#did banana flow will never

[fedoras-stuff]

replying to someone else btw

2 things that plague my mind all day but combined

[kpop---scenarios]

Reckless (1)

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Brothers best friend

Warning: Language, a little violence etc, smut later on

Word Count: 3k

“Jisung!” You yell from your room, covering your ears with your pillow. If he didn't shut the fuck up, you were going to lose it. “Jisung!” You scream again. Angrily, you crawl out of your bed, stomping your way across the hallway to his room. You try to open the door but the door is locked. You pound on the door, anger flowing through you.

“Open the door!” You yell, pounding even harder. Finally the door swings open, your brother looking annoyed.

“The fuck do you want?” He asks, rubbing his face.

“I have an exam tomorrow. I can't sleep with the fucking music coming from your room.” You yell. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Wear some headphones then.” Jisung scoffs.

“I swear to fucking..” you pause, as Jisungs best friends comes to the door.

“Feeling feisty tonight, are we?” Minho chuckles, moving past your brother and out of his room.

“Yeah I am, watch out.” You snap, stomping back to your room, slamming the door behind you.

Your parents had been gone for months for work, and unfortunately for you Jisung had decided to slack off at school despite school only being in for 3 months. He was partying constantly and having his degenerate friends over at the house all the time. Lee Know, or Minho was the worst of them all and he never fucking left.

He was an arrogant, annoying, selfish, violent, short tempered man who you disliked the most out of all Jisung’s friends. The two of them were a few years older than you, both supposed to be in University but the way things were currently going, you didn't know how much longer either of them were going to be enrolled. You however were in your first year at the same University and you were not going to take your opportunity for granted. You wanted to get out of this town and move away onto bigger and better things.

As the volume of the music is finally lowered, you get comfortable in your bed, easily falling asleep, finally.

The next morning you're up early, deciding payback was much needed for keeping you up half the night. As you're hopping around your room, singing along to your loud music, getting ready for class, you faintly hear a pounding on your door. You laugh to yourself as you make your way, ripping the door open, seeing an annoyed Minho standing there, shirtless with a pair of sweats on.

“It's 7am.” He deadpans.

“And?” You ask.

“I've been sleeping for 2 hours.” He groans. “Turn it down.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” you begin. “Also, last I checked, this isn't your house.” You smile, closing the door in his face before he can say anything. You head to your stereo, turning the music down, for a few minutes until you felt like he was comfortable in bed again, starting to doze off and you turned it up again. Not long after you turned it off completely, heading to the kitchen to grab a banana before you headed to the bus stop. You wanted to get to school a little earlier than usual, taking time to go over your psychology notes for your exam, one last time.

“Y/N.” You hear from behind you in the library. You turn around, seeing your best friend, Hyunjin, standing there with bags under his eyes, holding a mass amount of papers, and looking extremely uneasy.

“Hyunjin.. what happened?” You ask, trying not to laugh at the poor man looking so defeated.

“it's literally the 3rd month of school, and I'm going to fucking flunk out.” He gasps, sitting next to you.

“No you're not.” You chuckle, flipping over your notes to look at the backside.

“I tried to study all night but I kept falling asleep. Why did I come here? I hate it.” He pouts. You shake your head at the man, focusing on your notes.

“Well.” You sigh. “At this rate, I'll be failing with you. Minho was at my house again last night. He and Jisung were blasting music until all hours.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Minho was at your house?” Your other friend, Jisoo gasps, pulling up a chair beside you. “You're so lucky.”

“He's so fucking annoying.” You retort.

“But he's so hot.” Jisoo grins.

You ignored her last comment, you didn't want to vocally agree with her, because the last thing you needed was for your words to get back to him and inflate his head more than it already was.

“And to be honest, so is your brother. Is he single?” She asks.

“He's single. But I'm going to tell you not to go there because I don't want you to stop being my friend.” You laugh. “He's a terrible human being.”

“But he's hot.” Jisoo swoons, batting her eyes at you.

“Gross.” You sigh, looking at your phone. You gather your things off the table, dragging Hyunjin behind you to your psychology classroom.

“Please, Y/N.” He begs from behind you. You turn your head to look at him, giggling at the pitiful man who is usually so confident. This exam really has him fucked up. You turn your head again to look where you're going, and bump into someone, knocking your papers and bag to the floor.

“Ugh, I'm so sorry.” You sigh, bending down to pick up your things. You look up, seeing Minho glare down at you. You roll your eyes instantly, scoffing. “Actually I'm not sorry.” You say, finishing picking everything up. You stand up, Minho still staring at you but now smiling. Hyunjin comes up beside you, swinging his arm around your shoulders.

“Come on.” He says, pulling you away from Minho, who still hadn't said a word to you, but the smile never left his face.

“You got this.” You say to Hyunjin, your hands on his shoulders as you both take deep breaths outside your classroom door.

“So do you.” He breathes. “Drinks after?” He asks. You glance at your watch, 12:58pm. You should be done by 4pm..

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” You grin as the two of you make your way into the class.

3 hours later, you both emerge from the room, disheveled hair, sweat and tear stains present on both of you.

“How did..” Hyunjin starts. You put your hand up to stop him.

“Not yet. Shots..lots of shots.” You whimper. The two of you link arms, heading for the pub down the street from campus.

Hours later, you stumble home. As you stand in your yard you see lights flashing inside, and you can hear the bass thumping from the street. Jisung would throw a party on a random Thursday. That's just what he does. You quickly text Hyunjin and Jisoo to come over and party with you, both of them replying that they'll be there soon. You head inside, your brother spots you immediately.

“Y/N.. it's only just started. Don't shut me down.” He fake cries. You glare at him, seeing Minho walk up behind him. A few of his other friends were standing around, a lot of other people you didn't know also staring at you.

“Let's do some fucking shots!” You yell, making your way to the kitchen, hearing the cheers from the party goers. You walk past a chuckling Minho on your way to the kitchen. You glare at him before grabbing his sleeve, pulling him in there with you and a few others to take some shots. As you're about to do your second one, Hyunjin and Jisoo walk in. You were already drunk from your after exam drunks with Hyunjin, and now you were feeling it even more.

“Jinnie.” You squeal, putting your arms out for a hug. He grins as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly. Instantly you hear Jisoo’s flirty voice come to play, you break the hug to turn around and see Jisoo and Jisung tucked in a corner talking.

That made you want to vomit. You turn back towards the group taking shots, quickly pouring one for Hyunjin before you all take it. “Let's dance!” You yell, walking past Minho with Hyunjin in tow. You're dancing, laughing and just all around having a good time but you can't help but notice Minho standing against the wall with his arms crossed, eyes trained on you. They roamed up and down your body as he watched you dance, and you hated that the way he was looking at you, that the way he was biting his lip was turning you on so much.

“I'm gonna get a drink.” You tell Hyunjin, making your way to the kitchen. You feel a hand on your wrist, pulling you down the hallway instead.

“You looked really hot out there.” a guy tells you. You have no clue who this dude was, and frankly you were not interested.

“Thanks.” You respond, turning back towards the kitchen.

He grabs you again. “I wasn't done talking to you.” He half laughs.

You can feel the annoyance building up inside of you. “But I'm done.” You say, trying to walk away again. His grip tightens, pushing you against the wall.

“I'm trying to get to know you better.” He scoffs. “Don't be so rude.”

“I'm not interested.” You tell him, as if your current lack of interest wasn't enough.

He stares at you, refusing to move, not saying a word. You can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out what to say to you next. Before he can get his words out, he's shoved away from you, sliding down the floor of the hallway. Your mouth hangs open as you turn to look and see who your savior was.

Minho stands there, his eyes practically shooting daggers into the man.

“Are you fucking dumb, Changbin?” Minho asks.

“What the fuck, dude?” Changbin scoffs, scrambling up off the floor.

“That's Jisung's little sister you fucking moron.” Minho snaps, pointing at you.

“Oh shit.. I'm sorry! I didn't know!” He panics. Your eyes bounce between the two men, not sure why Changbin sounded so scared of your idiot brother.

“I'll let you off this time.” Minho starts. “If I catch you near her again, I will beat the fucking shit out of you.” He finishes. Changbin nods his head before running off into the crowd.

“You okay?” Minho asks as you rub your wrist. You nod your head.

“Yeah.. thanks.” You smile, returning to the party. The rest of the night, wherever you went, Minho was there, off in the distance watching you. You weren't uncomfortable from it but you did wish that he would go and enjoy himself. He didn't need to keep an eye on you, and as you got drunker, you decided to let him know.

“You.. keep staring.” You hiccup, placing your hand on the wall by his head. He smirks as he looks at you, barely able to stand up straight, eyes fluttering open and closed. You were a goddamn mess.

“Let's get you to bed, mhm?” He says, wrapping his arm around your waist to help you up the stairs. As you're walking up, you unfortunately see Jisung and Jisoo locking lips, making all the drinks you had all night threaten to come up.

“Get a room you sick fucks.” You slur, walking past them. Jisoo comes up for air looking embarrassed but only for a second before Jisung steals her attention back. Minho helps you to your room, you stand in the middle, your arms up high. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, wondering what the fuck you were waiting for.

“I can't sleep in my clothes.” You whine. “but I'll fall if I undress myself.” You pout.

Minho reluctantly walks towards you, grabbing the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you in a bra and your pants. He moves his hands down towards the button of your jeans. You hop back a little, almost losing your balance as you laugh, hysterically.

“Funny.” He fake chuckles, moving towards you again. You grab onto his arm, spinning yourself around to his back, sliding your hands up and down his body. You reach around to his stomach, moving your hands under his shirt, running them over his abs.

“Ugh.” You groan at the feeling.

He quickly turns around facing you once again, a smile spread across his face. You knew he wanted to be mad at you but he couldn't.

“Take your pants off or I'm gonna throw you down onto the bed and take them off for you.” He threatens. You blush, hard.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. Minho reaches out for you, grabbing you by the waist of your jeans, pulling you towards him. “It's a little of both.” He tells you as he tries to undo your button. You were having too much fun in the moment, you didn't want it to end just yet. You grab his hands, pushing him away from you, laughing as he runs his hands through his hair. He has never seen this giggling playful side of you before, and he was enjoying the fuck out of it.

“Y/N.” He says sternly, his hands on his hips.

“Minho.” You say, putting your hands on your hips, pushing your hip out, pursing your lips. He's trying to remain serious but he can't. He starts laughing as he rubs his face, groaning in frustration.

“Take off your pants!” He yells.

“Yes sir!” You giggle as you take off your pants, leaving you in your bra and panties. Minho hands you a pair of pj shorts that he grabbed from your dresser. You semi quickly put them on before turning around, facing away from him to unhook your bra. It slides down your body, onto the floor. You smile to yourself.

“I bet you're upset, huh?” You giggle, turning your head to look at him.

“Why would I be upset?” He asks.

“Cause you can't see my boobies.” You laugh, turning slightly to show him a little side boob. “I think you'd like them.” You say, looking at him. His eyes are focused down, looking at what you're showing him. “Tsk tsk, naughty boy.” You scold, slipping your shirt on, turning around to face him.

He stares at you, and you stare back. You examine his face, his large veiny arms and hands, his roughly tousled hair.

“Jisoo was right.” You whisper.

“About?” He asks.

“You.” You hiccup. “She said you were hot.”

“And what did you say?” He asks.

“I didn't say. Cause I don't need my words going to your thick ass head.” You giggle.

“If they wouldn't go to my head, what would you say?” He asks.

“That you're really fucking hot. But you're a little violent and hot headed.” You sigh. “Buuut you're not allowed to know that so shhh.. cause Jisung said you're off limits.”

“Since when do you do what your brother tells you?” He laughs.

“I listen to him!” you say. No you didn't. “Actually, never.” You hiccup.

He doesn't reply. He stands there, staring at you. You can feel your breath hitch as he moves closer towards you, the palm of his hand gently laying on your cheek as his face moves closer to yours. You close your eyes, the world is spinning as you feel his lips press against yours. You feel like you're melting into the kiss as your lips move against his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You could have sworn this was a dream, like his lips were perfectly made for your own. He slowly pulls away, turning to look at the door, and that's when you hear it.

“Minho!”

It's your brother's voice. “Lee fucking Know!” He yells.

“Go to sleep.” He says to you, turning and walking out of your room. You lay down in your bed, closing your eyes. The world only spins for a moment before you pass out.

**

“I'm never drinking again.” You gasp as you crawl out of your bed, desperately trying to make your way to the bathroom to get some water. Your throat was the driest it had ever been and you felt like you might actually die. Once you reach the sink, you shove your head underneath, drinking all the cold water you could get into your mouth. Fuck it tastes good. When you're finally satisfied, you drag your feet to change into some comfier clothes before heading downstairs. Luckily you didn't have class until the afternoon today, so you could try to recover this morning. You grab some food from the fridge, eating it cold, ignoring the passed out people scattered around your house.

“Morning.” You hear. You turn to look, seeing Minho walk into the kitchen, heading for the fridge.

“Morning.” You sigh.

“Hungover?” He asks you, grabbing some juice. You whimper as you nod your head. He laughs. You turn to glare at him, when suddenly you remembered. You think you remembered at least.

“Did..” you pause. “We.. um.. actually nevermind.” You say, turning away from him.

“Did we, what?” He asks, grinning.

“Kiss?” You whisper, looking around, making sure Jisung wasn't around.

“Me and you?” He asks, shocked. “Did you have a sex dream about me?” He gasps, placing his hand over his chest.

“What!? No! I just had a flash.. of something.. and we were kissing.” You try to explain.

“I feel so violated.” He fake cries. “I wasn't aware you thought of me like that.”

“Who's thinking of you like what?” You hear. Jisung walks into the kitchen, grabbing your food off the counter.

“Y/N.” Minho says. “I think she's into me.” He laughs.

“Yeah right.” Jisung chuckles. “Neither of you are dumb enough to do that.”

You look at Minho as he looks at you. Neither of you were dumb enough.. right?

[hiitsm]

Beneath the Surface: The Second Piece

Beneath the Surface is for 18+ only.

Angst & Smut is included in this Second Piece.

-

Other parts of Beneath the Surface: The Broken Heart Pieces

-

It's been two weeks now, and you still haven't heard anything from your girlfriend—or is it ex-girlfriend now?

You try to respect her wishes and give her the space she asked for, but it doesn't provide any answers.

The lack of clarity gnaws at you.

Why does she need space?

The thought that she must have been struggling in your presence without you noticing fills you with sadness. You feel an overwhelming sense of failure for not having been there to help her.

But that feeling of failure quickly gives way to your own sadness and anger.

She left you a letter.

You had been together for almost three years.

How could she just leave you with a letter?

You turn onto your side in bed, letting the tears flow freely once more. You've been isolating yourself from the world, unwilling to leave the sanctuary of your bed.

Everything around you reminds you of her, and you're not the type to discard those memories. You cling to a sliver of hope.

After all, she said she hoped to see you again when the time is right, didn't she? Or is it wrong to hold onto that hope?

Perhaps you should try to let go.

But even the mere thought of letting her go makes your chest feel heavy and your breaths come faster.

No, you can't bring yourself to let her go.

A couple of days ago, you ended up taking nearly all of your vacation days at work. Fortunately, none of your colleagues were on vacation, allowing you to get the time off.

This meant you could spend three weeks crying and isolating yourself in your apartment, avoiding not only the world but also the workplace where you had met her.

You quickly push that thought aside, remembering when the two of you first met, and finally summon the strength to get out of bed.

Clad only in a sports bra and boxers, you grab a rather large t-shirt from your closet.

It's hers.

Despite knowing you shouldn’t, you put it on anyway.

The fabric feels soft, and it still carries a hint of her scent.

It comforts your hurt, if only a little.

You walk to your kitchen and try to eat a banana, though your appetite demands nothing. Still, you know you need to eat something, so you slowly nibble on the banana.

When you're done, you walk to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. Not that it will help much. You've cried your eyes out for days and look like a wreck no matter what you do.

As you open the towel closet, a small book falls from the top shelf, hitting you on the head with a painful thud. You grunt a little while picking it up from the floor.

You hold your breath.

It's the scrapbook you had been making for your third anniversary with Alexia, which would have been in two weeks.

You had hidden it from her in the towel closet, knowing she never looks on the top shelves.

In the midst of everything, you had completely forgotten about it yourself.

You open it.

You shouldn't.

But you do.

And seeing the first page with the first picture makes you cry all over again.

It's not just any picture of the two of you together.

It's a picture filled with so much emotion, capturing a moment that holds a world of feelings within it.

It's the two of you in bed, just waking up from your first time just sharing the night together.

You know that for Alexia, this has been her favorite memory of the two of you so far.

She had woken up first and watched you, feeling you safely in her arms, a moment she wished she could wake up to every day.

But would it still be her favorite memory?

She insisted that you should be the little spoon. You remember her voice, urging you to take a picture, saying, "Come on, we should take a picture, Bebita. For our memories. Our first night together. it's a special memory, just for the two of us. It will look cute like this," and oh she was right. Because it did look cute.

You still feel so much love when you look at her in that picture.

It shatters your heart into a million little pieces all over again.

You close the scrapbook in a second, unable to bear the flood of memories and emotions that come rushing back.

But you couldn't push all the memories away.

They flooded back, overwhelming you.

And as you try to return to your bed, another wave of memories hits you.

A very special, intimate memory that you couldn't push away.

No matter how hard you tried.

-

Alexia was rolling her hips, slowly rocking into you.

Your girlfriend had proposed trying out a strap-on, something new for both of you. The fact that she had asked you and trusted you enough to explore new things together made you say yes in an instant.

Now that you were laying on your back, with Alexia and her strap between your legs, you still struggled a bit with keeping the stress at bay.

It was something new, and you weren't quite used to the stretch.

But it felt good, so good.

And the overwhelming feeling you got when you watched your girlfriend hovered over you and between your legs made you feel things you have never felt before.

Which is a little scary if you are being honest.

But with every soft kiss she gave you, you felt yourself being pulled back into the moment.

Being pulled back into her.

"You're doing so well, you're being so good to me," your girlfriend whispered softly into your ear, eliciting a small moan from you.

The room was quiet, bathed in the gentle glow of four candles placed in each corner of Alexia's bedroom.

"Are you still feeling okay, mi vida?" She always checked in on you, wanting you to enjoy this as much as she did.

You nodded slowly, still trying to steady your breathing, feeling the slight tension on the surface.

Alexia noticed, as she always did.

"Should I slow down a little?" She whispered softly, her gaze searching yours for an answer.

When you didn't respond, she stopped with rocking her hips back and forth completely.

"Amor, look at me please," she asked, and she gently tilted your head, trying to meet your eyes.

"It's okay if you want me to slow down. This is the first time we're trying this, and I know it's something new for both of us," she assured you softly, easing your nerves.

"I'm so happy and grateful that you want to try this with me. Whatever you feel, whether you want me to speed up or slow down, we'll do it. I promise that I'll listen to you." Her words enveloped you in comfort, and you tilted your head up slightly to meet her lips in a soft kiss.

You smile softly at her. "Thank you, amor. Lo siento. I'm just a little taken aback by how good it feels. How good you feel," you murmur, reaching up to kiss her neck softly.

Your gesture elicits a moan from your girlfriend's lips, her hand squeezing your right breast softly.

"Please, go on, mi vida. Make me feel so good," you whisper, kissing her earlobe gently.

All your stress melted away, replaced by a newfound confidence.

You reveled in her reassurance, knowing you could trust her completely.

As her hips sped up again, you both moaned in pure pleasure.

The tension built between you, both aware that you weren't going to hold back.

The edge was approaching, and you both knew you would take each other over it.

"You look so beautiful, Bebita," she urged, setting an even better pace, her fingers teasing your clit, just the right amount.

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt that familiar sensation, but even more intense.

"You make me feel so good. Come with me, amor," she whispered, biting softly on your collarbone.

You watched her, the rhythmic motion up and down, a beautiful sight that sent you right over the edge.

Together.

With her.

-

She was always so kind, so gentle, so full of love for you.

You could feel her love radiating from her, a constant source of warmth and reassurance.

Yet, you still couldn't understand how this could happen, how she could leave you.

Doubts start to creep in.

Maybe it was your fault.

Maybe you weren't enough for her as a girlfriend.

Maybe you needed to change things about yourself.

She had doubts, right? Maybe those doubts were about you.

Your mind spirals back into self-doubt, grappling with questions that seem to have no answers.

You try to close your eyes and just sleep it off.

And you're so exhausted that the moment your head hits the pillow, you fall asleep immediately.

-

Six weeks later you set foot in the stadium you have always loved so deeply once more. You knew it would stir old memories—memories of better days.

To be honest, you hadn't wanted to return to this place. But your friends insisted on dragging you out of your apartment, and after all, it was the Copa de La Reina final.

Barcelona would always hold a special place in your heart. And who would you be if FC Barcelona, especially FC Barcelona Femení, were not a part of it?

Your friends knew you had isolated yourself from the world for a couple of weeks now, but they didn't fully understand why.

You hadn't mentioned your girlfriend in a while, and they were careful not to bring it up. They understood that if you hadn't spoken about it yet, you were still trying to make sense of everything on your own.

But even if you tried, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it. How could you, when it still hurt too much to even think about?

But your friends wouldn't be your friends if they didn't try to help you in the ways you needed, even if they didn't know exactly what that was.

That's why they invited you to watch this match. And that's why you couldn't bring yourself to say no—because they were your closest friends, and they were trying so hard.

You were quiet, but your friends were glad you came with them. You were quiet because you knew every single detail about football, analyzing the match unconsciously.

A few years ago, you didn't even know what offside was. But then you met her, and everything changed. You wanted to understand everything about football because it was her passion.

And she was your everything. So you made it your mission to know every single aspect of the game.

You didn't notice a tear streaming down your face until one of your friends gently wiped it away. You looked into her eyes, and she gave you a soft smile, wrapping one arm around your shoulder in a comforting side hug.

The match ended with FC Barcelona Femení triumphing 8-0. You felt like a proud culé, swelling with pride for her.

She had played an amazing game, even though she hadn't started.

Despite the hurt she caused you, the love you felt for her remained undiminished.

You couldn't escape the overwhelming wave of love that washed over you as you watched her from a safe distance.

The safe distance was soon to be over as your friends wanted to move closer to the players to congratulate them on their fantastic performance.

You always thought it was a bit much, but seeing the happy faces of your friends, you couldn't resist. This time, however, you felt hesitant.

Still, you didn't want them to ask any questions, so you reluctantly went with them.

You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the grass, when you looked up and saw her. Your everything. The very essence of your heart, who had broke your heart into a million little pieces.

You knew right away, that coming to this match was a mistake.

You feel a panic attack coming.

You noticed that she had stopped in her tracks, shock evident in her expression upon seeing you there.

Emotions surged within you as memories flooded back.

Suddenly, you could feel her laughter against your neck as she hugged you from behind.

You could feel her gentle touch on your skin as she made love to you in your favorite way.

You could feel her strong hands on the sides of your waist when she was rocking you both slowly to the music inside your own apartment.

It was overwhelming.

You needed to escape.

You thought you had picked up a small piece of your broken heart when you set foot in this stadium.

But as you reached for the second piece, it slipped in your grip when you looked into her eyes.

Taking the first piece with it.

It hurts.

Sending your friends a wave goodbye, you rushed out of the stadium, leaving them slightly confused.

You didn't know that Alexia longed to come after you.

But she couldn't reach out to you, not right now.

You didn't know how deeply she regretted hurting you.

But she couldn't reenter your life with just an apology.

You didn't know how much love swelled in her heart when she saw you after so long.

But she couldn't act on those feelings, not yet.

You didn't know that she desperately wanted to make things right.

But she couldn't, not at that moment, because she doesn't know how.

-

Note: Thank you for taking the time to read my fics. I truly appreciate your support and hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.

Beneath the Surface: The Third Piece, will be out next sunday.

[queensunshinee]

His favorite toy- Part 2 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex, oral sex), super toxic relationship.

Word Count: 6.5k

(part 1)

His favorit toy- Part 2:

Two months have passed since the last time Art and I fucked. Although it wouldn’t be fair to call it that, because I don’t fully know what it was. I only know he said he thinks he loves me. Neither of us made the minimal effort to rekindle any kind of relationship. I kept sitting with Janet and Shane, and he stayed in his place next to the friend he invented.

Occasionally, if I focused, I could feel his gaze on the back of my neck, but maybe I was imagining it. Maybe I also imagined his declaration of love, maybe I lost my grip on reality for a moment. Maybe more water needs to flow under this bridge. Maybe Tashi Duncan needs to be his, like he is hers, so I can stop dreaming about him at night. How did I become so dependent on the emotions of a girl I have no desire to exchange a word with? How did I lose someone I’m not sure was ever mine? And more than anything- what made me spend so much time in this endless whining?

A few days after that party, Luke sat next to me in one of the classes we share. He looked so good that if I close my eyes, I can imagine it's Art. A remarkably pathetic thought, but it works. Except he isn’t cruel. He doesn't try to deceive me or lead me to the point he wants me to reach. He’s interested in me and my hobbies, and sometimes he walks me from class to class, but in these two months, he hasn’t made any move beyond placing his hand on my shoulder. Maybe he thinks I have lice. Maybe he thinks I won’t be good enough in bed to risk our boring conversations about the eco-intro professor.

Maggie, the girl I work with, canceled at the last minute, so I ended up alone at the smoothie station and the register. I took comfort in the fact that it's exam season and not too many Stanford students would prefer to stand in line for a smoothie instead of grabbing a spot in the library on a Sunday night. "The usual?" I heard Art’s voice and lifted my gaze from the book I was reading. I blinked at him a few times, as if trying to figure out if I was imagining his smug smile. Maybe it wasn’t smug, maybe that's just how he always smiles when he sees me. Like he knows a secret he’ll never tell me. "I..." I tried to hold onto the reality as I knew it, "I don’t remember," I smiled without showing teeth, half-forced.

"Peach—" he stopped himself in the middle of the stupid nickname. Apparently, he understood from my look that it wasn’t appropriate after two months of radio silence. "Almond milk, banana, pecan, and coconut," he mumbled. "That’s $4.50," he nodded. I wondered if he was surprised, because I’d never asked him to pay before. I’d always used the free smoothie I got during my shift on him. "How a—" he started to speak, and I turned on the blender, seeing out of the corner of my eye that he was smirking and shaking his head. "Fair," he muttered. "Here’s your smoothie. Goodnight," I handed him the cup after a few seconds, with the most forced smile I could muster. He rolled his eyes in response and sat down in one of the empty chairs.

"What do you think you’re doing?" I asked. "Sitting and drinking my smoothie, obviously," he spoke again as if I were two years old. Like I needed him to mediate reality for me because I couldn’t understand it on my own. "Do you see anyone else sitting here?" I asked. "Just because the tables are empty because it’s ten at night and you’re working in a cafeteria-" he began. "This isn’t a cafeteria. It’s the—" "Doesn’t mean I can’t sit at one of the tables and drink my smoothie. Or are there new rules I’m not aware of?" I rolled my eyes in response. Smug dickhead. I was definitely not going to give him a second of my time. I went back to the book I was reading for my philosophy exam, trying to ignore his presence but realizing I was reading the same sentence five times in a row.

"What are you studying?" he asked after a few minutes of silence. "Why are you doing this?" I threw the question back from behind the counter, sighing in frustration. "What am I doing?" The usual smirk was plastered on his face. "Why are you here on a Sunday night, Art?" If I could stomp my foot to express protest, I would. "Because you’re here on a Sunday night." The smirk turned into a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was sincere. I never know if he’s sincere.

"What do you want?" I rolled my eyes and sighed, realizing he wasn’t going to leave. I knew he was stubborn in an almost inspiring way (or nauseating, depending on who you ask) and that he was always at an advantage with me. He always had the last word. All I had left was to let him say it quickly and move on with life. "To ask how you're doing?" he half said, half asked. He sounded hesitant, but I knew he wasn’t. I knew he was as confident as any other day. He knew exactly what he was doing. "Amazing. Anything else?" I found myself crossing my arms under my chest and saw him, without shame, shift his gaze, well… to my chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Arthur!" I felt like I was his aunt as he shook his head, almost playfully. "I missed you, Peaches. Is that so hard to believe?" He chuckled, still completely shameless. "Well, I didn’t." That was the first thing that came to mind, and the face Art made, along with the eye roll, only emphasized how much he didn’t believe me. "Why are you so mad at me?" His voice was amused as he approached the counter with his smoothie, grabbing the book I was reading without asking. "What course is this?" "Philosophy," I snatched it from his hand, and he grabbed mine with the speed of an athlete who works too much with his hands. "Let go," I muttered, not sure if I wanted him to release my hand or release me. But I was scared he'd agree and disappear again, and that was so fucking pathetic. "Never," he replied, keeping his gaze on me and giving my hand a squeeze. "It’s not fair, Art," I hated how my voice sounded. "What’s not fair?" he asked, tracing small circles on my hand the moment he felt me relax the muscle that had been trying to pull away from his touch. "What you're doing right now," I sighed. If he weren’t in front of me, I probably would’ve started crying out of frustration. "What am I doing right now?" The smirk was once again plastered on his face. "Trying to convince me everything's okay between us," I hesitated, and he shook his head from side to side. "Nothing's okay between us, Peaches. I hate it. I actually hate it. I think about you 80% of the day. Every time I want to talk to you, you're either with your friends or with Luke." He wrinkled his nose as he said his name.

"Why do you know his name?" I asked, studying him. "Because I looked him up, and I'm telling you, Peaches, he's fucking weird—" "You're fucking weird," I shot back, and he laughed, trying to move the hair from my face with his free hand. "Well, maybe you like us weird, maybe you've got a type," he tried to joke, making me roll my eyes. "Who said I like you, Donaldson?" I tried to defend myself, and Art wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. He just looked at me, not letting me read his expression. His hand, which had been playing with mine, tightened its grip, and his gaze locked onto me as if I was on trial for the words that just came out of my mouth.

"Let’s study for the statistics exam together tomorrow?" He changed the subject, not breaking his intense gaze. "Art—" "Study for the exam. Just that. I won't pass it if you don't help me," he flashed his most charming smile. The one he fakes in seconds. The one he uses for interviews with the Stanford magazine and in photoshoots for the tennis team posters. "Study with Dylan," I suggested, raising an eyebrow, referring to the imaginary friend he chose to sit with instead of me. "You want me to beg?" he asked, poking my shoulder with his finger, causing me to shift slightly but still not letting go of my hand. "Maybe," I teased. "I can. My ego will survive if you study with me for statistics tomorrow." He said it quicker than I expected.

"I have a philosophy exam at eight. Can you do twelve?" I asked. "I can when you can. Where’s the exam? I’ll wait for you," he said. "Meet me at the economics library. There’s a room where you’re allowed to talk if you’re working in groups," I explained my choice. "That’s ridiculous. Let’s study at your place or mine—" "We’ll study at the library, take it or leave it," I stated firmly, even though the temptation to go to his dorm was strong since he never invited me. We always went to mine. "Library it is," he agreed. "What’s your philosophy exam about?" he asked, finally letting go of my hand, which had been holding the book I was studying from. "Aristotle and eudaimonia. What he thinks about happiness," I muttered, opening my notes again. "What does he think about happiness?" Art asked, leaning on the counter. "You wouldn’t get it," I smiled at him, and saw him nod with a somewhat thoughtful look, as if his combative spirit and desire to argue had evaporated the moment I agreed to study statistics with him. "Tomorrow at twelve, Peaches. Don’t break my heart and ditch me," he threw into the air, leaving the booth with the same dramatic flair he had when he entered. . . . I walked into the economics library, which was packed with people. Art was already sitting there, messing with his phone more than with the notes in front of him on the table. He hadn’t noticed I’d entered, giving me the chance to observe him. His blonde curls fell over his eyes in a way that likely bothered him. He was wearing his red tennis outfit (the one I liked the most, I should mention) and looked carefree. He always seemed too relaxed, maybe that’s how it is when everything comes to you with an ease that’s almost disgusting.

"You need a haircut," I muttered the first thing that came to mind as I approached, seeing him look up immediately. "Hey," he said, smiling from ear to ear, "I saved a spot because I knew it’d be crowded," he added. "How long have you been sitting here?" I asked as I took the seat next to him. "Since about ten," he chuckled, probably at himself, "How was the exam?" he asked. "Long. Have you gone over any of the material?" Yesterday, I decided I’d be practical. I’d promised to help him, and honestly, I always understood the material better myself when I explained it to him. And if Art Donaldson could take advantage of my knowledge in statistics, then I could take advantage of the situation too. Not just him. "A little, I pretty much lost track in the middle of the course." Art had taken this course as an elective. I always found it funny because who takes statistics as an extra class when it’s not even required for their degree?

"What, Kevin didn’t let you copy his notes?" I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he lightly tapped my shoulder. "You’re mean. Since when are you so mean?" he responded with a humor I couldn’t fully read, unsure if he was joking or if part of him actually thought there was some cruelty in me. Maybe it was the philosophy exam I couldn’t shake off. Obsessive thoughts about happiness and potential. "I’m going to get myself some coffee, want me to bring you something?" I asked, changing the subject. "Sit down, get settled, I’ll get it for you," he nodded toward me and stood up, not giving me a chance to refuse before he disappeared from my sight, leaving me alone.

Art Donaldson will be the end of me. I’m certain of it. "My brain is fried, Donaldson. I can’t look at any more averages," I summed up after two hours of studying. "Yeah? Already gave up?" he asked, amused. "I remind you that I had an exam today! I don’t think I’ve eaten anything other than my own brain," I tried to remember what I’d actually eaten today. "So let’s go eat something," he smiled. His eyes practically sparkled. "Art," I sighed, resting my head on my hand. "What? We can’t go have lunch?" he asked with mock innocence. Speaking to me again like I was a child. Like I didn’t understand what he’d already figured out long ago. "No, of course not," I wanted to smack him on the head as if he were the dumbest person I knew. "I can’t let you stay hungry, Peaches, my grandmother would be mad at me," he quickly replied. Where was your grandmother every time you humiliated me to the core? Every time you made me feel empty and stupid? So stupid. "Your grandmother will survive," I rolled my eyes. "She’s a very sick woman, you don’t know that. I’ll tell her I let you starve and she’ll have a stroke. You won’t be able to live with that on your conscience. You’ll drag us into lives full of guilt—" "Okay, you’re giving me a headache, God," I mumbled, standing up. Art Donaldson’s smug smile returned to his face in an instant.

That’s how I found myself sitting across from him at the fancy cafeteria for athletes, eating nuggets after the woman working there flirted with him and gave me a threatening look. "Don’t hate Rosie, she always gives me extra pie," he said after I pointed out that she looked at me like I was the reason the Beatles broke up. "Because she wants to sleep with you," I rolled my eyes. "So she has a reason to look at you like that. Makes sense," he replied with a chuckle. "Okay, what is this?" I dropped the nugget I was holding and pointed between us as I leaned back in my chair. "What?" he continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening. "What are you doing, Art?" I asked, feeling my leg start to shake out of frustration.

"I’m eating and making sure you’re eating," he replied, taking another bite of his food, as if we were having a completely normal conversation. "We’re not going to fuck again just because you invited me to eat nuggets at the cafeteria, you know that, right?" I blinked at him, trying to signal that he was delusional. "Of course not," he said, leaning back in his chair as well. "I have principles, Donaldson," I continued. "I know," he smiled. "I’m not some girl you found on the street that you can treat however you want, disappear for two months, invite her for nuggets, and she’ll take off her bra just so you can vanish again until the next time you’re horny," my voice rose a bit, despite my effort to keep it calm. I saw his jaw tighten, his expression shifting from amused to cold. "Is that what you think this is?" he asked, and all I could do was shrug.

"It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to think otherwise, Art," I looked at him and felt that if I stayed there much longer, I’d start crying. "I told you that I lo—" he began, but I stood up. "Thanks for lunch, it’s definitely nicer than the regular cafeteria," I forced a smile, and he closed his eyes. "You didn’t eat anything," he replied. If I focused, maybe I could have seen his frustration growing. But I was trying to focus on not crying. Art Donaldson’s ego didn’t deserve to see me cry over him again. "I’m really tired, I need to sleep a bit before my shift," I mumbled. "Will you come to my match tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "Art—" "You don’t have to, but I’m saving you a seat, okay?" he cut off my answer, not wanting to hear a refusal, maybe not believing there was a bone in my body capable of saying no to him. . . . And it’s a little pathetic how I ended up walking onto the tennis court the next day, giving up the last shred of my self-respect. I was surprised to see how many people showed up to these things, especially at the end of exam season and right before the break. The place was packed.

‘You came’ -A- I got his message and tried to look around, searching for where he might be. ‘Down on the court’ -A- I could practically see his smirk in the words. I glanced toward him and shrugged. ‘Front row, saved you a seat next to Patrick’ -A- he added.

‘What the fuck is Patrick?’ -(Y/N)- I replied, not moving toward where he told me to go.

‘A friend. Please sit there.’ -A- He answered shortly. ‘Want to lift my head and know where you are’ -A- And when he says things like that, I almost forget how cruel he can be. So I find myself rolling my eyes and walking toward the seat he saved for me.

"Are you Patrick?" I mumbled, feeling my cheeks flush from the awkward interaction with the guy sitting next to the empty seat. "Depends who’s asking," the curly-haired guy responded, flashing a mischievous half-smile. I can see why they’re friends. Fucking twelve-year-olds in the bodies of twenty-year-olds, how is that even possible?! "Don’t be a dick," we heard from down below, and I turned to see Art approaching us. "Who’s this?" the guy I didn’t know asked, as if I wasn’t standing right there—seriously, rude as hell, but whatever. "Patrick, behave," Art wasn’t joking, not even smiling, scolding him like you’d scold a misbehaving pet. "You came," Art looked me over, grinning from ear to ear. "Don’t let it go to your head, I had some free time," I muttered, sitting down. Art nodded. "Will you stay after the game?" he asked. I think it was the first time Art had to look up to talk to me. "I don’t know, I need to keep studying for statistics," I answered. "Me too," he replied. "We’ll study together," he shrugged, not giving me a chance to respond before he walked off, taking his position. Getting ready to serve.

“Interesting,” the guy next to me said. “What exactly?” I asked, rolling my eyes and still not looking at him. “You, of course,” I could hear him smiling. “What’s so interesting about me?” I kept staring into the air, unsure if I should focus on Art, who still hadn’t started playing, or the phenomenon sitting next to me. Arrogant, just like the blond guy who’s been emotionally torturing me for months. “Well, first of all, I’ve never heard of you. You’re a surprise,” he said as if it was obvious. And it stung a little, even though I knew the chances of Art talking about me were slim to none. “Maybe you’re the problem, Pete,” I muttered, snapping my fingers like I was trying to recall his name. “Patrick,” he corrected, laughing, making me look at him. He had a loud laugh, unapologetic. I knew his name was Patrick, and he knew I knew, but he still found it amusing.

“Maybe you’re the surprise,” I told him. “He doesn’t talk about you either.” I tried to sound unaffected, like everything was fine. The game started, and Art looked distracted. Maybe he always looks like that when he plays tennis- I’ve never watched his games before, he’s never invited me. “You’re supposed to watch the other side too,” Patrick whispered in my ear, causing me to roll my eyes. “Hey, Stats Girl,” I heard the familiar voice of Tashi Duncan just before she sat next to Patrick, cursing the day I decided to trust Art Donaldson and show up at his game. “The one and only,” I muttered with the best smile I could muster, feeling myself blush at the ridiculous nickname she gave me. “How’s he doing?” she asked Patrick. I wondered what their connection was. “He’s good, you know, as usual. Ice.” he replied, and they started talking quietly about the game, about Art, and about the opponent.

All I could think about was how good Art looked. He looked as if everything came to him effortlessly, as if he didn’t need to try for anything—everything just happened. And I knew that wasn’t true, I knew he worked hard, trained, ate properly, invested in his studies, and that he was probably a good grandson and a good friend. He was good to everyone except me. “Are you enjoying the game?” Tashi asked, pulling my gaze away from Art for a moment. “Huh?” I asked, not understanding what she wanted. “The game, are you enjoying it? He’s playing well,” she clarified. “Yeah, he’s really good,” I mumbled. I didn’t know what else to add to make it sound convincing. “Leave her, Tash. She doesn’t know anything about tennis, she’s his cheerleader,” Patrick answered her, snickering. I shot him a murderous look. “Patrick, don’t be rude,” Tashi said, “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know how to behave around people,” she turned to me, as if he wasn’t there. “It’s fine,” I replied, feeling my leg start to shake from the frustration. They went back to talking about the game, and I suddenly felt how pathetic it was, showing up to watch him play. To come and see him in his element, when he wasn’t part of my life anymore. When his friend sat next to me, mocking me to my face. “I’ll be right back…” I mumbled, walking toward the exit. I had no intention of coming back. . . . Two hours later, there were chaotic knocks on my door. “You left,” Art walked in without waiting for an invitation the second I opened the door. He looked angry. “I told you I didn’t know if I’d stay, I have an exam tom-” “Bullshit. What’s your deal? Why did you come?” He practically shouted as I closed the door. “You asked me to come,” I mumbled. “I also asked you to stay, but you left in the middle, so what was the point of you coming?” He crossed his arms. I don’t think I’d ever seen him this angry. He’s always calculated and calm. “Did he say something?” he added, asking a question. “What?” I returned, not understanding what he was talking about. “Patrick, did he say something to you? Why did you leave?” He asked again, speaking to me like I was a child. “He didn’t say anything to me. I left because I didn’t understand what I was even watching. I don’t know anything about tennis, Art, and I have an exam to study for,” I tried to justify. “Enough with that exam. I heard you studying for it yesterday, you know the material, we both know you know it.” He sighed. “I didn’t ask you to come to give tennis commentary. I asked you to come because I wanted you in the crowd. I wanted to see you in the crowd,” he continued. I could hear the effort in his voice to keep it together, to not lose control.

“Tashi was in the crowd; that should be enough for you,” I muttered, lifting my gaze to him, seeing that he was already staring at me. We had never talked like this about Tashi. She had always been this figure hovering above us. He talked about her constantly, unrelated to anything. He talked about her like she was a god. He talked about how she played tennis, about her training, how she helped him. He talked about parties he only went to because Tashi wanted to go. But I never responded in a way that would let him understand that I knew. That I wasn’t completely clueless. That I knew he was completely in love with her. That he loved her the way I loved him and that nothing would change that. “Oh, so that’s the problem. You could’ve started with that. It bothered you that Tashi was in the crowd?” He chuckled. He fucking chuckled. “Why did it bother you?” He moved closer to me, and I had no choice but to avert my gaze from his piercing blue eyes, which felt like bullets at that moment. “It didn’t bother m-” “Look at me.” He was close enough to grab my head and turn it back to face him. “I asked you a question,” he added, not letting me escape. And if there’s anyone I didn’t want to talk about, it’s Tashi Duncan.

“Why did you invite me? Why did you want me in the crowd?” “Because I wanted you to see me play,” he answered without blinking, as if it was obvious. As if there wasn’t a single question I could ask him that he wouldn’t have an answer for. “You love Tashi, Art. You lo-” His lips were on mine the second I said it. Again, there was nothing calm or calculated about this kiss. He was trying to prove that he didn’t, that I was wrong. While we both knew I was right. “You can’t say things like that, Peaches. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbled as he pulled away from me to catch a breath. “It’s okay that you love her. I’ve made peace with it. I just need you to let me move on, Art,” I sighed, trying to catch my breath again. “I don’t fucking love her.” He was angry; I could hear it in his voice. “What do I have to do to make you understand that you’re the only girl for me?” He kissed me again, and I could feel him getting hard from the way he pressed against me, causing me to moan into his mouth. “Yeah? Is this the only way I can get through to you? Is this the only way you believe me?” he asked, running his lips down my neck. "Art," it was half a moan, half a cry. My eyes closed, and as they did, I felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders, pulling me down until I was on my knees in front of him. I unbuttoned his jeans and quickly pulled down his boxers. I felt almost possessed as he sat on the edge of my bed, forcing me to crawl toward him. “There we go. Is this the only way I need to treat you for you to understand your place?” he muttered as I knelt before him again. I felt a light slap on my cheek from his cock, much more humiliating than painful. “I asked you a question,” he continued.

“N-no,” I mumbled. “Even your voice is annoying me right now,” he muttered, and without warning, I felt his cock in my mouth. He didn’t give me a moment to adjust, punishing me for leaving the match, maybe for bringing up Tashi, maybe for everything combined. You could never tell with him. I felt him hitting the back of my throat, and I tried to suppress my gag reflex with little success. Three months since he’d been in my mouth showed signs. “Shhh, you can do better than that,” he half-stroked my hair, half-held me in place by it. Then he pulled me back, leaving a trail of spit and precum. “You’re such a mess,” he chuckled, and again I felt a light slap of his cock against my cheek. I put my lips back where I knew he needed them the most, and this time, there was no gentle stroking of my hair. There was only a hand forcing me to stay in place as he used my mouth however he wanted. “Nothing to say now, huh?” he said, not very coherently, as I began to feel the warm, thick liquid spill into my throat. “Atta girl,” he patted my hair twice before letting me pull back.

I stood up slowly, trying to catch my breath. “Come here,” he mumbled, pointing to his thigh. I can’t refuse Art Donaldson, so I sat on his lap, placing my hands on his neck in an almost embrace, watching him smile. “Why is everything so hard with you?” he muttered, and his lips lazily found my neck. “I just don’t know what you want from me,” I responded, trying to focus on anything other than his lips currently on my collarbone. “I told you I love you,” he mumbled, his eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t mean that,” I shot back.

“Oh yeah?” His smirk spread across his face, and in seconds, he tossed me onto the bed as if I weighed nothing. He was above me. “For now, the one acting like a brat is you,” he said, his presence casting a shadow over me like a predator playing with its prey. “The one who left in the middle of my match is you.” His lips again left trails on my skin. I don’t even know when he took my shirt off. I felt a light bite on my nipple that made me moan. “Fuck, fa- Art,” I mumbled, unable to focus. “The one avoiding interaction with my friends is you.” His hand joined in, starting to torture my other nipple as his kisses moved further down. “I’m not,” I managed to respond, just as he easily removed my panties.

His breaths hovered over my pussy, short and hot, and if I didn’t know Art Donaldson so well, I would’ve thought he was looking up at me with almost a pleading expression. But he was in complete control. A small kiss on my lips, but not where I really needed him, made me shift my hips a little, and he chuckled- a laugh that was almost childlike. “Hey, ask nicely,” he managed to say, and I returned to the position I had before, legs around his head. “Please, Art,” I knew there was no point in arguing; he always got what he wanted in the end. “No problem, baby,” in seconds, his tongue was on my clit, starting slowly with circular motions and picking up speed with every moment. “There you go, you’re almost there,” he muttered, pulling back just before I could come. “What-” I tried to catch my breath again, craving the euphoria only he could give me at that moment. “I want to be inside you,” he answered without waiting for the full question, and in an instant, his cock filled me, making me moan. “Fuck,” I managed to mumble, feeling my eyes roll back. “Hold on a little longer, Peach,” he said, slipping his finger into my mouth like he liked to do, watching my lips close around it. “Now,” he muttered, pushing it deeper into my throat while he thrust into me, feeling me tighten around him like only an orgasm from him could make me do.

He fucked me stupid. There’s no other way to describe what I experienced, and as we both tried to catch our breath, I wondered how long it would take for him to leave this time and what his excuse would be. “Don’t you have practice tomorrow?” I quietly asked, trying to throw him off balance for a moment. “No, but I don’t know anything for the stats exam,” he admitted and chuckled. “Art! I taught you all the material yesterday,” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t concentrate when you’re teaching me.” “Then why did you ask for help?” It was my turn to laugh. “Because you’re the most beautiful when you’re in your element,” he shrugged like it was obvious. Like hearing me talk about statistics would make him fall in love with me. Like it wasn’t what I felt two and a half hours ago when he played tennis, until I almost choked on love.

“When are you going home?” he asked, probably knowing my last exam was in statistics. “I’m not,” I replied casually, and he quickly shifted positions. “Why the hell not?” he asked, and I saw a small wrinkle form between his eyebrows. “It’s no big deal, Donaldson,” I chuckled, “I picked up extra shifts, and I have a paper to work on. Speaking of shifts, I need to get ready for mine.” I added as I checked the time. He watched me as I walked around the room, trying to decide if I smelled too much like sex to push the shower until after work. “Are you coming to the study marathon tomorrow before the exam?” he asked, starting to get dressed too. “Of course,” I looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t think about skipping it, Art. You need it,” I said, knowing exactly who I was dealing with. “Okay, Mom,” his voice was amused, and I rolled my eyes, looking at him for another moment. We don’t get too many moments like these. Almost domestic. Almost mine.

"Hey, we're good, right?" he suddenly asked, holding my hand and not letting me continue running around the room. "Yeah, Art, everything's fine," I smiled half-heartedly, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Because I don't want another two months like these," he muttered, and I knew it was hard for him to admit. It was hard for him to say that the past two months had been strange, to say the least. Difficult, to be honest. "Me neither." I nodded at him. "When are you flying home?" I asked as we were both already outside the door, after I had locked it. "Four hours after the exam, I’m supposed to be on a flight," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wow, two weeks at home, excited?" I asked. "Not that much, mostly glad I get to visit my grandma. She follows my matches with her entire retirement home, it’s a big deal for her." "Ooooh, you've got fans, Donaldson?" I joked. "You know I do," he replied. "Seriously though, why aren’t you going home?" he added. "It’s not that deep, just an opportunity to make some extra money. Plus, my mom and I aren’t in the best place right now," I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. "Don’t you miss home?" he asked. "Not like most people probably do," I smiled at him. "I hate it when you smile like that," he said and suddenly stopped. "How?" I asked, looking at him as if he were crazy. "Without teeth. That’s your fake smile," he replied without blinking, as if it were strange that I was even asking. "I didn’t think you noticed," I mumbled. And I really didn’t think there was a possibility that Art Donaldson paid attention to details that, until now, I thought only I noticed about him. "I’ll see you tomorrow at the marathon?" he asked when we reached the point where I was supposed to head to the cafeteria and he to his dorm. "Don’t be late," I ordered, giving his face a small push, watching him chuckle and walk away from me. . . .

The next morning, I woke up with the worst headache I’d ever had in my life. I felt my nose was blocked, and I knew for sure I had a fever, though I had no way to measure it. 'Where are you?' -A-

'Sick, I’ll come for the exam' -(Y/N)-

'What’s wrong with you?' -A- I didn’t respond to that message, preferring to sleep a bit more before waking up for the statistics exam.

I got in the shower, and when I got out, I looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my flushed cheeks as a contrast to my pale face. There was no mistaking it when you looked at me- I wasn’t at my best. The auditorium was partially full when I entered, people chatting among themselves, and I looked around, seeing Art already staring at me before he approached, getting ahead of Janet, who shot me a questioning glance. "Well, you look like shit," he stated, placing his hand on my forehead. "Fuck, Peaches, you’re burning up," he muttered, looking at me with an almost angry expression. "How did you manage to start dying in the minute and a half I left you alone?" he said. "I’m talented, Donaldson. Can you not yell? My head hurts," I mumbled, sitting in the empty seat I found.

The exam went smoothly and ended faster than it began. I physically couldn’t wait for Art to finish, so I texted him, hoping he’d enjoy his time at home, and I went to sleep. Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door, chaotic like the one from the day before. "Hey," he muttered. "You’ll miss your flight," I replied, running a tired hand over my eyes. "I’m not flying," he said quickly. "What?" I asked, not understanding what he was talking about, seeing him take off his shirt and pants, left only in his boxers. "Art, I physically can’t have sex," I chuckled, not understanding what was happening. "We’re going to sleep," he declared, pulling me toward him, leaving me no choice but to get into bed next to him. "Your bed’s worse than mine. Tomorrow we’ll sleep at my dorm," he stated.

"You're going to get sick too" I rolled my eyes, "Why aren’t you going home?" I asked quietly, while his hand traced shapes on my shoulder. "It felt weird going home when you’re sick and staying here," he replied, not ashamed for a second. "Your grandma must be disappointed," I mumbled. "I told her my girlfriend is sick," he said. I wanted so badly to see his face, but I had my back to him. "She must’ve been surprised you have a girlfriend," I said the first thing that came to mind, feeling my heart race. "Not at all, I talk to her about you all the time."

. . .

So here it is. The second part I didn't plan. Hope you like it even tho I wrote half of it while being super sick and didn't check my own grammar at all, so bear with me (a reminder: English is not my first language). Let me know what you think. It's always the best part. Also, I think I'm up for some requests. Let's see what we can come up with. Love you guys

[hd-junglebook]

My Sunshine

Part 1 - rewrite of the original

Warnings - pregnancy, flirting, verbal abuse, gaslighting, slight mention of prostitution, unwanted pregnancy, abortion, crying, banana muffins

a:n I'm so in love with the way that this came out, I could literally faint. I want to this man. ferally. In the most respectful way that I can put it. Had me giggling like a SLUT. Like look at that face, come on..

Masterlist Link

GIF by jonasiegenthaler

Summary: Y/N reminisces about her past, the faint memory of her hateful mother as reality starts to really sink in. Along comes jack and his giddy smile, eager to get to know our dear sunshine.

Word Count ~ 4k

1 month later

10:00am

The doctor's voice cuts through the heavy silence, their tone professional yet laced with a hint of warmth. "While we wait for the results, can you tell me the date of your last menstrual period and any potential dates of conception?"

Y/N takes a deep, steadying breath, her mind instantly transported back to the haunting echoes of her mother's cruel words. The memories feel so visceral, as if the scenes are playing out before her eyes once more.

"I wish one day, you could see why I raised you the way I did. You're so weak, gullible, and always so goddamn sensitive. It's pathetic, really." Her mother's voice drips with disdain, the familiar sting of her judgement cutting deep.

Y/N can practically feel the weight of her mother's disapproving stare, the contempt burning in her eyes. "Just like your useless father, y/n. You've never been and will never be good enough, not like me."

"You will need me one day, when you have a baby, you're gonna wish I was the one there helping you, holding your hand. But I won't be, because you've always been a disappointment, a burden I never wanted." The thought of facing motherhood without the unwavering support she so desperately craves fills Y/N with dread.

"I hate you, y/n, and I wish I would've gotten rid of you when I had the chance. I never regretted anything more than letting your useless father talk me into keeping you. I lost my whole life raising you - I slaved and sold myself to put food on the table, all for you ungrateful little shits." The bitterness in her mother's voice is palpable, a raw wound that has never fully healed.

Forcing the memories to the back of her mind, Y/N provides the doctor with the requested information to the best of her recollection.

A knot forms in her stomach as the details flow from her lips, a painful reminder of the intimate moments with Jason - moments that had once filled her with such joy and hope, but now only serve to heighten her anxiety.

The doctor nods, jotting down the notes on their clipboard. They continue the conversation, their tone gentle and understanding, offering Y/N a sense of comfort in the midst of the emotional turmoil.

After what feels like an eternity, they excuse themselves to check on the test results. The room falls silent, save for the ticking of the clock – each second a countdown to the life-changing news that awaits Y/N.

When the doctor returns, they have a file in hand. Taking a seat beside Y/N, they meet her gaze, their expression softening with a warmth that puts her at ease, even as her heart races in anticipation.

"Y/N," they begin gently, their voice filled with empathy, "the urine test came back positive for hCG. Congratulations, you're pregnant." The doctor pauses, studying Y/N's face for a moment before continuing. "I understand this may be an overwhelming time, but I want you to know that we're here to support you every step of the way."

Y/N feels her breath catch in her throat, the news hitting her like a physical blow.

Part of her had hoped, prayed, that the results would be negative, that the at home test she took a few weeks ago were wrong, that she wouldn't have to face the daunting prospect of motherhood, especially without Jason's support.

But now, as the reality of her situation sinks in, she can't help but feel utterly alone, trapped in the shadow of her mother's cruelty. Following down the same path she did when she was 18 but only she was 23, grown, and by herself.

"What am I going to do?" she whispers, tears falling to the ground.

A sudden movement in front of her face snapped Y/N out of her trance, her body jolting in response. "I'm sorry," she blurted out, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes.

The doctor slid back onto his stool, a warm smile on his face as he handed her a stack of pamphlets. "I’m very happy for you," he said, mistaking her tears for joy. "Here are some resources for young mothers. I know this must be an exciting, but overwhelming time. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you have any questions or concerns."

Y/N stared at the man, momentarily confused, until the reality of the situation came crashing back.

…

11:30am

Y/N stood in line at 'The Brew' coffee shop, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping her like a comforting embrace, soft Russian music playing over the stereo. The rich scent of roasted beans mingled with the subtle sweetness of vanilla and caramel, instantly lifting her spirits.

As she waited patiently, her eyes wandered to the man next to her, who seemed lost in thought. He was engrossed in a conversation on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, creating a series of deep lines that etched themselves into his forehead.

He shuffled his feet nervously, the movement causing the light to catch on the polished leather of his shoes. His gaze flickered to the menu before him, a brief moment of indecision flashing across his face, and Y/N found herself wondering what could be troubling him.

Unable to resist the urge to learn more, she stole a glance at him, admiring the way the soft, golden light of the café danced across his features. The angles of his jawline were sharp and defined, a stark contrast to the soft, inviting curve of his lips that seemed to beckon her closer.

As if sensing her gaze, he suddenly turned, and their eyes met. In that instant, the world seemed to slow down, the bustling noise of the café fading into the background as Y/N was enveloped in a moment of pure connection. His eyes, a mesmerizing blue, held her captive, sparkling with a hint of mischief that ignited a spark within her.

A confident smile spread across his face, and he leaned away slightly, speaking into the phone. “Alright Lukey, I gotta go.”

"Hey, you're my neighbor, right?" he asked, the recognition evident in his tone. "You live on Baker Street?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden acknowledgment. "Yes, I do."

Yet, as she spoke, Y/N felt her shyness begin to melt away, like frost under the warmth of his unwavering gaze. There was a magnetic pull to this stranger, an allure that she found herself inexplicably drawn to.

"I'm Jack," he said, extending his hand towards her. His movements were fluid and graceful, his arm cutting through the space between them with a sense of purpose.

As he reached out, Y/N couldn't help but notice the way his fingers flexed, the tendons in his hand shifting beneath his skin like the strings of a finely tuned instrument.

Hesitating for only a moment, Y/N slipped her hand into his, relishing the gentle firmness of his grip. "It's nice to meet you, Jack," she replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth as she held his gaze, unwilling to be the first to break the connection.

He leaned against the counter, his gaze locked on Y/N, as if she was the only person in the crowded coffee shop. "I've been wondering when I'd get the chance to officially introduce myself."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush with heat, suddenly keenly aware of his undivided attention. "I, um, I'm not usually one for small talk," she admitted, her words coming out in a flustered jumble.

Jack chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Lucky for you, I more than make up for that." He flashed her a dazzling smile, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'm quite the chatterbox, as I'm sure you're about to find out."

Caught off guard by his confidence, Y/N found herself relaxing, drawn in by his easy charm. As the line moved forward, she fell into step beside him, her shoulders brushing against his as they approached the counter.

"So, what's your order of choice?" Jack asked, his gaze sweeping over the menu. "I'm a bit of a coffee connoisseur myself."

Y/N blinked, momentarily flustered by his proximity. "Um, usually anything caramel flavored, I think," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m leaning towards tea today though.”

Jack's lips curved into a grin. "Excellent choice. A classic, just like you."

"Can I have a banana muffin? And whatever she's getting, we're together." Jack said, flashing the barista a charming smile.

The barista nodded, punching in the order as Y/N stood there, momentarily stunned by Jack's gesture. She managed to give a small smile, her heart pounding erratically in her chest.

"After you," Jack said, gesturing towards the pickup counter. He placed a gentle hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine at his touch, her nerves alight. As they waited for their order, Jack turned to her, his sapphire eyes sparkling. “Just a green tea please. And a banana muffin too.” She added, meeting jack’s eyes for a second.

"Such a gentleman," y/n teased. Jack laughed, flashing her a wink. He turned towards the seating area, gesturing for Y/N to follow. "Come on, let's find a cozy spot."

Y/N felt herself being drawn along by his infectious energy, her feet moving almost of their own accord as she trailed behind him. He led them to a small table by the window, pulling out a chair for her before taking a seat across from her.

She didn’t know what to do with herself as she took the seat he offered, settling in across from him. The way he was looking at her, with such open curiosity and intrigue, made her heart race.

"So, Y/N, tell me - what brings you to this fine establishment on this lovely day?" Jack asked, leaning back in his chair and regarding her with a playful smile.

Y/N felt herself relax slightly under his warm gaze. "Just my usual coffee run, nothing too exciting," she admitted shyly.

"Ah, but any day that starts with a chance encounter like this is anything but ordinary," Jack countered, his eyes twinkling. "You've got nowhere else to be, right? No urgent errands or appointments calling your name?"

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "No, nothing pressing that I can think of."

"Excellent." Jack leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "Then you won't mind if I take the opportunity to learn more about the mysterious neighbor from Baker Street?"

…

Jack's eyes crinkled with delight as the barista arrived with their order, setting down a steaming latte in front of Y/N and a banana muffin alongside it.

"Ah, perfect timing," he said, flashing the barista a grateful smile. The scent of the baked treat mingled with the rich aroma of coffee, creating a tantalizing combination that did little to calm her already frazzled nerves.

Glancing down at her phone, she quickly typed out a message to her friend Heather, her fingers trembling slightly. 'You're never going to believe this, but this unbelievably gorgeous guy just bought me a coffee and we're sitting at a table together! I'm honestly freaking out right now - I have no idea what to do.'

She hit send, her fingers trembling slightly as she placed the phone back on the table, unsure of what to do next.

Y/N couldn't help but sneak a peek at Jack, who was leaning back in his chair, a warm smile playing on his lips as he took a contemplative sip of his own coffee. The way the morning light danced across his striking features only served to heighten his already captivating presence.

 "So, Y/N, what do you do for a living?" he asked, his gaze warm and curious. "I have a feeling there's more to you than just your 'usual coffee run'." His gaze latched back onto hers, his eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity.

Y/N felt heat rise to her cheeks at his words, both flattered and flustered by his obvious interest. "Well, I, uh, I sometimes write for a sports magazine," she stammered, her heart fluttering erratically. "And I'm also working on a couple of novels in my spare time."

Jack's face lit up with delight, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table as he studied her intently. "A writer, huh? That's incredibly impressive. What kind of sports do you cover?"

"A little bit of everything, really," Y/N replied, slowly beginning to relax under the warmth of his gaze. "But I do have a particular fondness for hockey as of recently. There's just something about the intensity of the game that I find absolutely captivating. The fighting, the crowd, just a mix of all of it."

"Hockey, you say?" Jack's eyes gleamed with unbridled enthusiasm. "Well, as it happens, I'm a bit of a hockey player myself. I actually play for the Jersey Devils as a defenseman."

Y/N's eyes widened in genuine surprise, her earlier nerves temporarily forgotten. "What! Well, tell me about it. Do you enjoy it?"

Jack chuckled, the rich sound sending a shiver down Y/N's spine. "Well, then I'd be more than happy to regale you with tales of my hockey exploits." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But only if you promise to share some of your own stories in return."

She extended her pinky, a silent invitation, waiting for him to entwine his with hers, sealing their promise in a tender gesture.

Jack gently raised his hand to the table, his eyes fixed on hers, as he tenderly entwined his larger pinky with hers, sealing their promise with a heartfelt gesture.

The two fell into an easy conversation, trading stories and sharing their passions. Y/N found herself captivated by Jack's easy charm and infectious enthusiasm, and before long, the lunch rush began to fill the coffee shop.

"Maybe I should let you get back to your day," Y/N said reluctantly, glancing around at the growing crowd, a twinge of disappointment tugging at her heart.

But Jack's eyes held a glimmer of pleading, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers in a gesture that sent electricity coursing through her veins.

"Or you could stay a little longer?" he suggested, his voice low and hopeful. "I'm quite enjoying our chat, and I'd hate for it to end so soon."

Y/N hesitated, her heart palpitating in its cage. This was all so unexpected, but there was something about Jack that made her want to throw caution to the wind.

Taking a deep breath, she offered him a shy smile, her nerves and excitement mingling in equal measure. "You know, I think I'd like that. And maybe, if you're free sometime, we could, um, grab dinner?"

Jack's face lit up with a dazzling smile. "I'd love nothing more," he said, quickly pulling out his phone. "Here, let me give you my number. I can't wait to take you out."

As Jack typed away, Y/N felt a surge of giddiness. This was all so new and exciting, and she couldn't help but wonder where this chance encounter might lead. One thing was certain, though – she was more than ready to find out.

Jack made her feel - seen, heard, and utterly captivated.

…

14:00 pm

I debated including this, but I felt so giddy and in love with writing I couldn’t help it. I’m just a sucker for some pure love.

***A gentle breeze caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of springtime The world around her seemed to burst with vibrant color - the lush, verdant hues of the trees, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

The myriad shades of pink and purple adorning the blooming flowers that lined the sidewalk, and the vast, azure sky overhead, dotted with wispy clouds that danced languidly across the heavens.

It was as if the entire city had been painted with a master's brush, each detail a testament to nature's radiant beauty.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out her camera, her fingers trembling with excitement as she began to weave through the bustling streets.

In the nearby park, she captured the laughter of happy families, their faces aglow with pure, unadulterated joy as they swung gleefully on the playground or tossed a Frisbee back and forth, their movements fluid and carefree.

Further down the path, a lonely man sat on a bench, tossing a well-worn tennis ball to his faithful canine companion. As the dog bounded after it, his tail wagging furiously, a warm smile spread across the man's face, his eyes crinkling with a contentment that seemed to radiate outwards, touching all who witnessed the tender exchange.

Y/N couldn't resist the urge to capture these fleeting moments, her camera shutter clicking rapidly as she sought to preserve the beauty that surrounded her.

Every step she took seemed to reveal another breathtaking sight - a young couple sharing a picnic lunch on the lush, verdant grass, their bodies intertwined as they leaned into one another's embrace, and a group of elderly friends chatting animatedly on a park bench, their laughter carrying on the gentle breeze.

Each snapshot felt like a love letter to the world, Y/N's heart swelled with a sense of wonder, her steps light and airy as she continued her walk home.

With each snapshot she captured, she couldn't help but see the reflection of Jack in the scenes that unfolded before her.

The joyful laughter of the families in the park reminded her of the way Jack's eyes had crinkled with delight during their conversation. The lonely man's smile as he played with his dog mirrored the warmth and kindness that Jack had exuded so effortlessly.

And the tender embrace of the picnicking couple evoked the gentle way Jack's fingers had brushed against her own, sending electricity coursing through her veins.

It was as if the entire world had conspired to remind her of the captivating man she had just met, weaving his essence into the very fabric of her surroundings.

Y/N found herself wondering what she and Jack must have looked like, huddled together in the cozy coffee shop, their heads bent close as they shared stories and laughter like old friends.

The thought brought a smile to her lips, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of giddiness at the realization that this chance encounter had the potential to blossom into something truly special. Jack's colors had painted the world around her, and she couldn't wait to see what other hues he might bring into her life.***

…

14:30 pm

Y/N closed the door behind her, the solid wood frame pressing against her back as she leaned into it, letting out a deep, contented breath.

A smile slowly crept across her face, unbidden and unwilling, as she buried her face in her hands, momentarily overcome by the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Slowly, almost reverently, her hands drifted down to her stomach, fingertips gently caressing the barely-there swell that held the promise of new life.

"Maybe this can be good for us," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more real.

Suddenly, a flash of self-consciousness washed over her, and Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. Had she really just been giddily daydreaming like some lovestruck schoolgirl?

The moment of levity was short-lived, however, as a familiar voice broke the silence, cutting through the haze of her thoughts.

"You just gonna stand there and be weird, or are you gonna come sit down?" Heather said, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Y/N's head snapped up, a sheepish look crossing her features as she nodded and made her way to the couch, her steps tentative and uncertain. "Sorry, I, uh, I was just..." Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to even begin explaining the maelstrom of emotions that had overtaken her.

Heather watched her fondly, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're being strange today," she observed, her tone laced with affection. "But I can't say I'm surprised, considering what you told me earlier."

Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she settled onto the cushions, her movements almost cautious, as if she were trying to contain the giddiness that threatened to spill out.

Unable to keep the grin from spreading across her face, she shook her head in a half-hearted attempt to downplay her excitement. "I know, I know," she said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's just... I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it’s exciting, you know?"

Heather chuckled, reaching out to give Y/N's hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes crinkling with warmth and understanding. "I can see that.”

…

19:47 pm

Later that night, Y/N ran her fingers lovingly over the smooth surface of her stomach, the gesture almost reverent as she finished her nightly cleansing routine.

Just as she set down her phone, the familiar chime of a new message caught her attention, and a giddy smile instantly blossomed on her face as she saw Jack's name on the screen.

Sinking into the soft cushions of the couch, Y/N eagerly opened the message, her heart fluttering with anticipation.

"Hey there, beautiful," Jack's text read, the words sending a flutter through Y/N's chest. "I was just thinking about you and that lovely smile of yours. How about we make it a date tomorrow night? I know this amazing little Italian place that I think you're going to love."

Y/N's fingers hovered over the screen, poised to type a response, but a twinge of hesitation gripped her. The news of her pregnancy weighed heavily on her mind, a secret that both excited and frightened her in equal measure.

She knew she should tell him, but doubt crept in, insidious and persistent. After all, she and Jack weren't even officially dating yet. Their relationship, while promising, was still new and undefined.

The thought of burdening him with this life-altering news so early on felt unfair, potentially derailing the tender connection they had begun to forge. What if the prospect of fatherhood sent him running?

Shaking off her doubts, Y/N decided to throw caution to the wind. "A date, huh? Well, you certainly know how to sweep a girl off her feet," she typed, adding a flirtatious wink emoji for good measure before hitting send.

Almost immediately, her phone chimed with Jack's response, and Y/N could practically hear the warmth and charm in his voice. "Only the best for my favorite writer," he replied, followed by a string of heart-eyed emojis. "I'll pick you up at 7 sharp. Dress to impress, beautiful."

Y/N couldn't help but grin, a giddiness bubbling up inside her. "It's a date," she replied, adding a playful wink emoji for good measure.

As she set her phone aside, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her.

Just hours ago, she had been a bundle of nerves, unsure of how to navigate this newfound connection. But now, with Jack's invitation in hand, she felt a renewed sense of excitement and possibility.

Sure, the news of her pregnancy was daunting, but she couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, this could be the start of something truly special.

After all, Jack had already shown himself to be a charming, attentive, and genuinely interested companion. Perhaps, with a little bit of courage, she could find the right moment to share this life-changing news with him.

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691 @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3

@snailss, @dasiysthings, @shawnshoney

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Good Intentions (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Good Intentions

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Yall know the drill by now. Chaos will update this part later 👀

author's note:

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE! Holy bananas! This chapter is four five months in the making! I know it'll take you just a few minutes to read it but keep that in mind loves! Chaos slaved over this chapter because life gave me a wedgie at every flippin turn! Joker was getting on my nerves not cooperating with the dialogue then I had a HUGE plot hole that needed to be filled and I bet everyone is wondering-

When will Joker give Y/n a night she'll never forget? Not in this chapter I'm afraid! I tried to add it in but it didn't flow well so stay tuned loves! Things are gonna be happening very quickly very soon. I'm so excited!

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

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The dawn was bright and a touch cruel for waking you up in such a manner. Its persistent glare left you no chance of falling back asleep. You blinked back the last dregs of your slumber and finally became aware of your surroundings. 

The first thing you noticed was Joker lying beside you, gazing at you fondly. Anything else besides him simply ceased to exist.  

Joker was devoid of any greasepaint, allowing you full access to his handsome face, scars and all. How dare he hide this from you? Joker didn’t think himself attractive, but the dusting of freckles along his nose amplified his beauty in your opinion. You began the tedious task of counting them one by one as he spoke.  

“My Bunny is finally awake.” He cupped your cheek, his touch warm and familiar— and bestowed you a kiss before reeling back and bopping you on the nose. You jumped slightly at the random action. You would never understand Joker’s fascination with your nose.  

You swatted him away to sit up further in bed. The surface itself gave you pause.  

The last thing you remembered was lying in the back of the SUV with Joker on the side of some Blüdhaven road. Not the best locale for sex but Joker made it memorable. “Where are we?” You asked.  

Joker snorted, “Why don’t ya look for yourself?” His eyes were like a hawk watching you glance around the room. 

Floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bustling streets of Gotham took up one wall. Back inside, two chairs and a couch in shades of sage and grey, sat before an electric fireplace, and a framed piece of fanart from your book series hung above it. The bathroom door was cracked open, and you could barely see the clawfoot feet of your tub peeking out from around the corner.  

You were in your guest bedroom. You were home. 

Not that you weren’t grateful, but you were still at a loss on the technicalities.  

“How did we get here?” You moved the covers back and noticed you were naked. “And where are my clothes?!” You shouted. 

Joker laughed at you scrambling to cover yourself.  

He didn’t see the point since he already had the pleasure of worshipping your body thoroughly. He had your body memorized and could navigate to the tiniest of scars with his eyes closed. Joker secretly enjoyed his Bunny acting all shy so he didn’t pull the sheet away from you.  

“Uhhh clothes? There ah.. somewhere. You didn’t need them.” Joker scoffed.  

You wished that Joker was cracking a joke. Granted that Blüdhaven wasn’t that far from Gotham City, you were still worried about optics. Cindy would kill you if any nsfw photos were leaked to the media.  

As if you needed more attention after your tabloid cover story with J was still circulating. You wanted to lay the secret lover rumors to rest not add more fuel to the fire.  

The morning sun flooded the room with its warm light and it illuminated your e/c eyes, effectively blinding your vision. “Joker please tell me you didn’t drive us back to Gotham with me naked in the passenger seat. What if someone saw?” 

You quirked an eyebrow at your distracted lover. J was looking at you, his mind however, was miles away in Metropolis.  

He was drawn in by your gorgeous eyes alit by the sun. Every day he questioned how he became so lucky to have your love. Someone so beautiful, so kind as you giving him the light of day? He was rendered speechless every time.  

“J?” you shielded your eyes from the sunlight, thus snapping him out of his daze. “Are you listening?” You asked. 

Joker blinked out of his fog to answer.  

“Ahem. I uh I’m the only one admiring the view, doll. The windows are tinted. Re-mem-ber?” Joker sang. Hopefully you didn’t catch his genuine stutter.  

You didn’t. “Oh right. Well at least we’re back in Gotham. Haven was irking my nerves.” 

“YuP. Some errr.. trip that was.” Joker noted as his hand hovered over your own. You nodded at his silent request. He began playing with your fingers one after another. You watched him, lost in thought. Neither of you knew how to address the elephant in the room.  

Joker was tracing the lines etched on your palm when he eventually caved in. “Your mom called.” 

“Huh?” 

J picked up the panic laced in your voice, “Calm down Bun. I didn’t talk to her.” 

He launched into the explanation as he mapped out the lines of your hand. “She left a uhh, voicemail. Your dad and uncle were dropped off, safe n sound, along with your cousin— albeit with heh.. bruised egos. See? Perfectly fine! Funny how life workss.” You winced as his long fingernail traced your lifeline.  

Intentional or not, it jogged your memory from last night and made you sigh in relief. “That’s good to hear. I’m glad they’re okay.”  

“You didn’t believe me?”  

You detangled your hand from Joker’s. It’s not that you didn’t believe him— he just made it hard to at the time. You couldn’t ignore what you saw. Joker shot your father and uncle at point blank range.  

You knew the kind of man Joker was. He killed without remorse and did it for fun. If he didn’t physically prove that the bullets were rubber, how were you to trust his word?  

“I.. Yes, I believe you, but please try to see it from my point of view! Y-You scared me last night. I mean, after you shot your own goon in front of me just a few days prior. How am I supposed to know what bullets you used? What if you mixed them up or something. I-I just.”  

You choked on your emotions and began curling in on yourself, if Joker didn’t stop the motion in its tracks. “Oh Bun none of that.” He turned you around to face him.  

You didn’t see him grimace at the fresh tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, but he brushed them away all the same. The gentle care he used made you look up into his troubled green eyes. Since when was Joker the affectionate type? 

“I never want you scared of me, doll. You should’ve never seen that err.. hic-cup at Bicchieri’s. It’s my fault for underestimating that a-nnoooying rat in my organization n' putting—” 

“What rat?” You echoed.  

Joker blinked twice as if he didn’t mean to share that bit of information with you. You saw the wheels turning in his head, desperate to backtrack that statement.  

“Ahh nothing to worry that pretty little head of yours!” He said with a smile but it was too late. His Light was a curious person by nature, and all it took was you stressing his name for him to groan in defeat. “Fiiiiine.”  

Up till now, Joker had done a great job at keeping you in the dark. He kept his lifestyle separate from yours to keep you safe but as of late, someone was making it their personal mission to change that and remove you from the picture. 

Joker remembered how shaken up you were after Two Face shot up your charity gala and then when he later abducted you from your apartment. The former District attorney was tame compared to the more dangerous threat this mole was creating.  

Joker exhausted almost every asset he had to wring out the traitor, all to no avail. Whoever was causing this high security breech was smart and resourceful.  

Joker thought traveling to your hometown would help narrow down his search, but it only led to more questions than answers. Keeping you naïve was no longer possible. He just hoped this latest news didn’t scare you away for good. 

You knew it was serious when Joker used your real name. He instantly had your undivided attention with a single word.  

J sighed, “You remember that manila folder ya found at the beach house?” He knew you remembered when your eyes widened, however your mind drifted to other things.  

“How could I forget?”  

He smiled knowing what you were referring to. The time spent in the Vineyard, (where you earned your namesake) was special to Joker as well. Unfortunately, it was time to hit you with reality.  

“Someone’s been following you, Light.” 

“By the paparazzi? I’m used to that, J.” You laughed, trying to lighten the mood but Joker didn’t join in.  

“No Y/n. Someone with ties to my organization is following you around, makin’ threats, and putting my Light in danger. They tipped Two Face off about your address and they were lurkin’ in the crowd at Euphoria that night you went with your friends.”  

Joker gritted his teeth before resuming, “They tooK photos of you, wayyyy too close for my liking and the message is quite clear. I meanT what I said that day. I don’t want you going anywhere alone for the near future. If I lost you Y/n I...”  

He couldn’t even finish the thought. You were shocked to see Joker get emotional however before you could console him, he snapped right back to normal.  

The drastic change of emotions was disturbing to witness, and Joker noticed how you eyed him warily because of it. “I’m fiiiine, Y/n. Your safety is just so im-port-ant to me, I will literally lose it if you were hurt under my watch.” 

It took one look into Joker’s deranged eyes for you to believe him.  

J’s hands were still shaking as he craned your neck backwards to kiss you. It started out slow and built up to the point of Joker pushing you down on the bed, if not for your phone’s alarm effectively ruining the mood.  

Joker groaned as your hand blindly reached backwards to turn off your phone. J was nice enough to charge it for you when he brought you in from the car and you could see the multiple notifications covering up the screen. You saw dozens of text messages but for now, the most important notif, was your timer going off for therapy.  

You had long since forgotten about it given your stressful trip back home. A part of you didn’t want to go despite it being the right thing to do. You needed help healing from your past to move forward with your future. There was much to discuss if you went, yet you didn’t particularly appreciate Dr. Quinn’s approach to healing. Therapy was a good idea but perhaps the therapist in question was the problem. 

Your thoughts must’ve been visible to your dark clown. Joker read you liken an open book. “Are ya going?”  

“I-I don’t know. Something doesn’t feel right about my therapist though it could just be my bias towards doctors.” You huffed. That wasn’t completely true. Sarai was an excellent doctor, and she didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. You pouted while mulling it over.  

J hummed on your shoulder. “Want me to handle it?” His offhand comment made you laugh and finally give him the attention he wanted. You swatted at his head and met his mischievous eyes.  

Wait, he was actually serious. 

“Oh my God Joker you can’t keep ‘handling’ every little inconvenience in my life. Leave the poor woman alone. I’ll just call Mama and ask for another recommendation list while she fills me on the drama that you caused. I have no doubt that phone call will take a huge chunk of my day.”  

You heaved out a sigh before falling backwards onto the bed.  

When you opened your eyes, Joker was hovering over you, biting his lip with a sheepish grin. His hair was a bird’s nest framing his face and the color of it caught your attention. You reached up and curled a strand or two around your finger and tugged. “Hey. I thought you weren’t dying your hair anymore around me.”  

What a way to deflect the conversation. Joker let you change the subject (for now) and followed your light tugs in a playful manner.  

“Not so harrrd Bunny! I had ta look my best for a night on the towns! First impressions are everything ya know. What would your folks think if they saw me all natural?”  

He grinned down at your unamused face.  

“Joker. Do you really think my parents cared what color your hair was when you shot someone in front of us at Vincent’s? Did my dad care when you riddled him with rubber last night?” 

When you worded it that way, perhaps he screwed up on the first impressions. He would do better in the future if he ever got the chance to meet them again— under better circumstances of course.  

But back to your question. “Uhhhh.” Joker stuttered.  

“Don’t answer that. What’re you gonna do for the day?” You raked your nails through Joker’s neon green hair. Despite being freshly dyed, it was in a desperate need of a wash, having the texture of wet seaweed. Still, it was therapeutic for both you and J, so you didn’t stop your hand movement.  

Besides, he was practically purring from your ministrations. Your nails felt too good, and he laid down on your stomach slurring his speech.  

“Mmmmm gotta check up on the idiots and let’s see… cause some mischief.” J whined when you stopped playing with his hair. “Ohhh, don’t give me that look, Sugar. I’ll be back before ya know it. Unless.. gasp do you wanna go with me?” 

You rolled your eyes and resumed scratching his scalp.  

There was no way Joker would let you tag along with him especially after he just confessed you had a deranged stalker running around. Joker would be too busy being a menace to society to look after you properly. Even if you wanted some alone time with Joker, work always came first. But before he left...  

“Do you want me to cook you something before you go?” you asked.  

Joker would never turn down your home cooking and as expected, he fell for the trap. 

His stomach cried out before he could. “I’d looooooove that my Light.” He moved up to peck you on the lips. “Can I have French toast with ahhh... extra.. Sugar?” One kiss turned into two then three until you were at his mercy, desperate for more.  

His kisses trailed further and further down your body until you understood J’s intentions. He rubbed his scarred cheek along your hip bone as he pushed the sheets away from your body. 

So this is what he meant by extra sugar. At this rate, Joker wasn’t letting you out of bed. And who were you to deny yourself this pleasure? Soft mornings with Joker were a dime a dozen so you laid back and let him kiss and touch to his heart’s content. 

Breakfast could wait, Joker wanted dessert first.  

An hour later, you turned the stove off and pushed a hot plate of French toast across the kitchen island towards Joker. His eyes were aglow with mischief as you made a show of sprinkling an obscene amount of powdered sugar atop the dish.  

His comical snort was light as you walked past him, grabbing your phone as you went. “I’ll be in the living room.”  

“Thanks for breakfast, Sugar.” He called after you.  

Which one? you almost fired back.  

Only Joker could make such an innocent comment about breakfast be dirty. You kept your flustered smile to yourself while you dialed your mother’s number.  

You needed a clear head for this upcoming conversation.  

As the line rang, you reminded yourself; Act surprised, you don’t know anything that happened back home. It only took four rings until Mama’s worried voice answered and it took longer to reassure her that you were fine. 

“Mama calm down.. I’m okay. I just wanted to go home and—yes ma’am, I’m back in Gotham City. I um..” your eyes darted over to Joker still seated at the island counter.  

He locked eyes with you as he licked syrup off his fork. Your clit jumped remembering when his tongue did that exact same motion to it a few minutes ago. He was doing it on purpose, his smug grin confirmed it. This madman would be the death of you someday.  

You snapped out of your thoughts by your mother calling your name repeatedly.  

“Y-Yes ma’am, I’m still here. I took the subway back. Yes, I know it's not safe that time of night, but Uncle D didn’t quite understand the part where I said I can leave whenever I want. So I did. Mama, will you stop defending him?!” You paused to give her time to fill you in on the events you were already privy to.  

It was time for you to perform.  

“DAD WAS SHOT?!” You screamed. Joker gave you a thumbs up on your ‘totally believable reaction’ and you almost flipped him off as a result. It would be nice if J sat there and ate his food instead of distracting you.  

“Mama, slow down and start from the beginning! They did what now? Are they stupid or is they dumb? They went to meet with who?”  

Joker had long since finished eating his breakfast, but he stuck around to watch you pace the living room while on the phone. You were a great actress, adding in your (fake) reactions and sprinkling the awkward silence with gasps and exaggerated comments to make it sound genuine.  

He couldn’t help but to eavesdrop on your current topic.  

“I’m glad Uncle and Dad got Jr. back from T-The Joker. Yes! I was just as terrified as you were! I mean— The Joker was talking to me. What was I supposed to do? I um.. n-never met him before—just heard about him on the tv and stuff. Yeah, he’s absolutely insane..” You trailed off.  

Your heart was beating wildly as you fiddled with a stem of a potted houseplant. They needed to be watered soon. It was simply a distraction to keep yourself from turning around and seeing Joker’s reaction.  

Hopefully, he understood that you were saying all this to avoid any suspicion from your mother. You hated lying to her and wished she changed the subject but for someone who hated the guy, she could not stop talking about Joker. She mentioned the events that occurred at Vincent’s restaurant again and you mentally groaned the longer she dragged on.  

“Y-Yeah I know. Super scary. I know! I can’t get his laugh out my head either and his eyes..” Hopefully you sounded terrified and not enamored. It was already bad enough that you stuttered saying The before Joker in an effort to make him sound more formal to you.  

You froze when Mom said something bizarre. “They are kinda hot huh?” 

Clearly you heard that wrong since it was the last thing you expected Mom to say, regardless of the reputation the females in your family had with bad boys. It was so far left field, that it caught you off guard.  

You couldn’t blame her though. Joker’s eyes were otherworldly, and he knew that you were obsessed with them. It was just another deadly weapon that he could charm you with.  

You couldn’t help yourself from replying truthfully. “I mean, yeah. They’re so freaking hot. I could stare at them all day.. wait! We shouldn’t be lusting after a known psychopath Ma!” 

Mom’s carefree laugh set your mind at ease. “What’s the harm in a little delusional thinking sweetheart? Sure he’s f__king insane but he’s still hot if you squint hard enough. You think he’s a dom?” 

Why, yes mother. Yes, he is.  

This conversation was embarking into dangerous territory. You had to put an end to it before you said something you couldn’t take back.  

“Okay Mama! We are not going down that road today. Speaking of, um, c-can you send me another therapist recommendation list? The old one you gave me didn’t have any good fits.”  

Thankfully that got her attention off of Joker and just in time too. You could feel his ego getting bigger and bigger from across the room.  

Mom’s loud reply made you hold the phone away from your ear. “YOU’RE GOING TO THERAPY?! Oh, honey that’s wonderful!” She squealed. Getting mental help was always her goal for you, and she was happy that you were finally interested. 

“Um well I went to a few sessions but they didn’t pan out how I’d like them to.” 

Her joy quickly turned into motherly concern. If you were still at home, no doubt she would have you wrapped up in a warm hug. “Really from that list? Huh. Perhaps you could give Dr. Crane a try? I think he’s still practicing.” 

“Dr. Crane? Why does that name sound familiar?” You spun around when you heard Joker drop his plate. It cracked into jagged pieces at his feet, yet he didn’t react. He just stood frozen, staring at the mess.  

You couldn’t risk calling out to him, thus announcing to mom that someone else was with you. She would have a field day and demand to talk to whomever it was. That was a can of worms you did not want to open. But the phone call was still active and she made her presence known again. “Everything alright dear?” Your mom asked over the phone.  

You disregarded J’s odd antics, “Yeah something fell over in the kitchen. Um I’ll check and see if Dr. Crane is in network.” You frowned hearing an incoming call buzzing in. The name made you arch an eyebrow. “Hey Ma, is it okay if I call you back?” 

Not like you actually would, it was simply a Blüdhaven saying to get someone off the phone. Mama recognized it and rushed through her goodbyes. “Alright sweetheart! Me and dad love you!” 

She knew her mistake the moment that word escaped her mouth. There was no way you would say it back. Your reply was curt. “Thanks. You too.”  

Would you ever say I love you again? The probability was unlikely. You ended the call and answered the next one in a sour mood. “Hello?”  

The person on the other end gasped in shock, “Y/n! So you are alive!” 

“Hey Cindy.” 

“Let’s try that again without the attitude. Did someone forget that GothCon is fast approaching, and failed to send over their itinerary for the event?” She heard you groan over the phone. “Mmhm, you really thought I’d forget, Y/n?” 

Her phone call wasn’t a social one. She gave you months to procrastinate but time had run out.  

Cindy’s job was to ensure these public events went smoothly and that her client was doing their part. You threatened to give her grey hairs before thirty.  

 “I have yet to receive anything from you, Y/n. I have no idea what project you’re unveiling if you are presenting anything for that matter!” She said.  

You whined as you wandered over to the sunroom’s large glass doors.  

You had been putting off preparations for GothCon ever since you met Joker. It was the last thing on your mind given the way your life had completely turned upside down. You couldn’t believe it was almost time for the convention and you hadn’t informed your manager of your intentions.  

You could only imagine the catch-up work Cindy was going to dump on you. “I told you months ago to just secure me a forty five-minute main stage slot. I’ll do a big announcement, follow up with the meet-and-greet stuff and my booth appearance.” You whined.  

It was Cindy’s turn to voice her disappointment, albeit more refined than you. You could picture the businesswoman drumming her pristine nails on her desk. Cindy was a chronic perfectionist; surprises were out of the question. She had to know something about your big announcement. 

“That sounds great, Y/n. Your fans will love it. Now, are you announcing the movie deal because Bruce’s legal team sent over the contract ages ago and its sound on our end. I’m just waiting on you to sign off on it. Honestly. Have you checked your email lately? 

No. Your long-forgotten laptop sat closed on your desk for the past few weeks, mocking you. 

Joker dragged you from one drama to the next with little time for reprieve. The last thing on your mind was checking emails or writing despite Joker being the current muse for your WIP. You felt like such a cliché letting a man distract you from work.  

Just because you talked Cindy out of your deadline restriction didn’t mean you could fool around and not work at all. 

You had to write something and you were working on borrowed time. You looked back towards the kitchen and didn’t see J at the counter. If he had plans for the day, so could you. 

“Um. How about I stop by and sign the contract in person? How’s that?” You suggested to Cindy. “We can make a day of catching up! I’ll order lunch and we’ll plan my Con appearance together in great detail and make up for lost time.” 

You knew she wouldn’t pass up a day of productivity.  

“I can agree to these terms. Do you want me to send a car for you?”  

Any other day, you would’ve accepted the offer, that is until you remembered the G wagon that Joker bought you which was parked in the apartment garage. “Actually... no. I’ll drive.” 

Cindy tried to mask her laughter, “Pffft. You? Drive? Y/n, do you even have an ID? You know what? This is Gotham. I’ll see you when you get here.” 

You tried not to take offense to Cindy’s comment.  

You had an ID, you just considered driving as a last resort. Walking and the public subway were all you ever needed growing up. Even now, just thinking about driving was a task you weren’t looking forward to.  

A small part of you wanted to see if Sebastian could chauffeur you to Cindy’s office—yet you didn’t know if J vetted the concierge driver or not. It was better to drive yourself until that got sorted out.  

Thinking about the father of two reminded you to talk to Cindy about securing VIP tickets for Will. You made a promise to the young boy and you wanted to deliver on it. However, before you could do so, you had to get dressed. Cindy would flay you alive if you walked into her office wearing pjs.  

Joker was kind enough to let you wear a shirt of his. The day you planned with Cindy would be productive yet causal and you wanted an outfit that would reflect that. Then you remembered a sweater dress you hadn’t worn yet in the back of your closet. It would fit the crisp Gotham weather just fine while remaining stylish. The better question was if you had the perfect shoes to go with it.  

Joker was stepping out of the bathroom when he saw you speeding down the hall, headed straight into your bedroom. His first thought was grim.  

Running to your sanctuary always spelled bad news. The phone call with your mother must’ve gone south. He had already made plans to visit a few key hideouts around the city and get back on track of his organization. He had no time to stay and worry over you.  

Much to his amusement, you soon ran out of your private bedroom, only to brush past him and enter the guest bedroom without a word.  

Just what was his bunny up to? You looked like a woman on a mission. 

J leaned on the doorframe to watch you fling the closet doors open and frantically begin searching inside. Good thing he wisely moved all of his stashed weapons and illegal goods to a better hiding spot days ago. He wasn’t worried about you finding something dangerous, but he was still rather curious on what you were actually looking for.  

“You uhh need some help, pretty girl?”  

It took you a moment to acknowledge his presence behind you and when you did, your jaw dropped. Sweet Gaia: how did you walk past that? 

Joker was still damp from his shower and the black towel around his hips caught the remaining beads of water that raced down his chest. You watched one in rapt attention disappear past his v lines in slow motion. Another droplet soon entered the race and just like that, you were hypnotized. The wondrous view drew closer and closer as Joker came to a stop in front of you.  

He pushed your jaw closed with his index finger. “Eyes up here Princess.”  

The saucy nickname made you snap out of your daze. You took your time traveling up Joker’s body, drinking up his physique before meeting his gaze. Words escaped you he was so fine. “I um. I was.. I’m..” 

He admired your big eyes looking up at him from the floor. What he would do to have you like this every day, so docile and sweet. It was every man’s dream.  

“Use ya words, Bunny. I bet ya know soooooo many being a err, author n’ all.”  

His thumb reached down to brush against your lips and your lashes fluttered closed at the sensation. Joker was clearly messing with you, yet two could play this game.  

You huffed and turned back around to resume your search.  

“Um if you want to help, I’m looking f-for my snake boots. I want my outfit to pop when I go out today.”  

You made sure to lean forward so Joker could see your back arch just the way he liked. The shirt left little to the imagination and your efforts didn’t go to waste.  

The low growl behind you meant Joker liked what he saw; although, you weren’t expecting him to join you on the floor and begin searching inside the closet. You blinked in shock as he opened a shoe box, grumbled in disappointment when it wasn’t snake print, and toss the box aside before resuming the process again.  

He ruled out four boxes compared to your meager two. You weren’t sure what to make out of it. “J, you don’t have to help. Don’t you have plans today?”  

“And?” He flung a sandal box to the side. He was really invested in this.  

You would never get used to a domesticated version of Joker. The media made him out to be this insane maniac who killed for the fun of it. And while that was true, moments like this were sacred. You were the only person to see Joker in such a way. He looked so normal helping you find a needle in a haystack. Not once did he comment on the hoard of footwear in your spare closet. 

You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice when Joker found the boots you were looking for. 

He read the brand name on the box and opened them just to be on the safe side. They were snake print but he wasn’t certain if they were the right ones you wanted. “Are these the— Y/n? Hey.”  

J snapped his fingers in your face. You jumped but he could tell you weren’t quite all there yet, so he nudged your leg with his foot. “What’s bothering ya Light?”  

Of course Joker would notice something was wrong. He was so perceptive; at times it bordered on being annoying. He would declare your thoughts silly, so you brushed them off.  

“Nothing. Thanks for finding my shoes. Um.. I’m going to Cindy’s office to go over the GothCon details. I-Is that okay?” 

Joker sighed to himself as he set the shoe box down. Just because he told you about your mysterious stalker didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to live your life. You didn’t have to ask for permission to do things. Joker refused to be your ex and trap you into another toxic relationship.  

You looked so shy, staring off to the side and biting your lip. That just wouldn’t do in Joker’s book.  

He knew you weren’t in a right mindset, and he didn’t want to trigger your PTSD with any sudden movements, so he held his hand up for you to see before caressing your face. “You can go annnny-where you want, no need to ask, mkay?” Joker calmly said. ‘I’m not him.’ he mentally added.  

You leaned into J’s calloused palm with a sigh, “If I don’t, then how will my security team know where I’m going?”  

Joker fixed you with a look. Surely you weren’t that daft?  

As if Joker’s security personnel needed to be notified in order to protect you efficiently. They watched over you like a shadow, as if their very life depended on it. Given that Joker was their employer, it probably was. The severity of how much Joker valued your safety hit you full force.  

His eyes in shades of jade and mint, bore into yours right there on the bedroom floor. Joker was doing everything in his power to protect you despite being the source of your troubles. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around why people labelled him a monster.  

Joker was a man with feelings just like the average Joe. He was capable of love and loving hard; a shame you were unable to reciprocate. Joker deserved someone who could match his devotion. He needed someone that wasn’t damaged like you.  

How ironic that Joker was the normal one in this relationship.  

The sudden swirl of negative thoughts made you feel worse than you already were about this torrid affair. Your eyes burned with incoming tears and Joker’s brows furrowed in concern upon seeing them. “Bun?” 

You cleared your throat and grabbed the shoe box off the floor, standing up faster than the Flash.  

The tables had indeed turned; you were now the one looking down at Joker kneeling on the floor. You felt the urge to flee the situation, and you wisely listened to your instincts. 

“I should take a shower and um.. head to Cindy’s office.” Each word was heavy with emotion and Joker was ready to cancel his plans to console his girl. You didn’t give him a chance.  

Joker called out your name but you were already halfway down the hall and the familiar sound of your bedroom door slamming closed echoed throughout the apartment. A sound that Joker dreaded more than anything.  

Joker thought the two of you were past hiding and poor communication, but old habits die hard. You shut Joker out and he had no other choice but to respect your privacy and hope that you emerged from your room in a better mood by the time he came home.  

The black wooden door of your bedroom was the Berlin Wall between you and Joker, and he would do anything to tear it down for the last time.  

Joker sighed in defeat before beginning to dress for the long day ahead. There was much to do and the quicker it was over, the sooner he could return and dote on his Light. 

The long drive to Cindy’s office gave you time to clear your head. You didn’t know what came over you back at the penthouse. Your emotions were all over the place and you didn’t mean to push Joker away like that.  

The morning started out well, amazing even, and you went and screwed it up all over nothing. You wanted to bash your head against the steering wheel for letting your past habits and mannerisms dictate your present love life.  

Just another example of how Joker didn’t deserve someone with your erratic and unhealthy emotions.  

Maybe it was a bad idea to skip therapy today. You clearly had a lot to work on. It was too late for you to try and make it now. You just had to suck up the fact that you were a terrible person and a horrible lover.  

By the time you got dressed and left your bedroom, Joker was long gone.  

You wanted to apologize in person but a well-placed note was left on the foyer table that caught your eye. Joker’s surprisingly legible handwriting was a welcome sight.  

Not mad at ya. 

A comic little bunny was drawn next to his initial and it made you smile just a tad. Joker knew how to lift your spirits, and you left the penthouse in a better mood.  

You pulled up to a red light and glanced through your rearview mirror. The unmarked SUV kept its distance a few cars behind you in traffic. It had been following you ever since you left your apartment garage. Joker’s goons were standing on business when it came to your protection. Not even congestion or other drivers cutting you off stopped them from performing their duty.  

You were a little scared the first ten minutes until they flashed their lights as a sign of peace. Much to your surprise, it was a modified green and purple LED before switching back to the standard white.  

You rolled your eyes at the lengths your lunatic lover would go to ensure your safety. Each sweet gesture made you feel guilty about your attitude towards J earlier and in general. You really had to do better.  

You shook your head as you reached the security gate at your publisher’s office.  

The security guard, TJ, waved at you in greeting and granted you access to the reserved parking area. The SUV following you had seemingly disappeared. You weren’t concerned since you knew they were somewhere lurking in the shadows, watching your every move.  

You turned off the engine and took a minute to collect your thoughts.  

“Clear your head Y/n. Cindy is like a bloodhound. No need to give her ammo.” You whispered to yourself.  

Just like Joker, Cindy would instantly notice something was wrong and pester you relentlessly until you fessed up, and you couldn’t let her find out about J. She’d have the police en route the second you uttered his name.  

Cindy was far too much of an upstanding citizen to even consider your views of Joker. She would question your sanity and label you a Stockholm syndrome victim if given the chance. You had to erase Joker from your mind if you were going to survive today.  

“Nothing is wrong. I am single and nothing is going wrong in my life. Alright, let’s do this.”  

With a confident nod, you stepped out of your vehicle and began walking inside. 

Parked further down the street, a hooded figure watched you disappear inside the building before reporting in. “She’s walking in now.” 

Across town, Joker was outside one of his various Burnley hideouts on a smoke break. Just because he was working did not mean he couldn’t multitask and dote on his Goddess. He expected updates on your safety in real time— now more than ever. He inhaled one last puff from his cigarette before flicking it away. “Good. Stay sharp.” 

It was time for him to head back inside and face his crew.  

Joker hung up and locked eyes with a man who was approaching him in the hall. There were perks of being Joker’s right-hand man. The most important one, Frost could say and do certain things that would normally get others killed. He nodded in greeting before walking alongside his old friend, silently but openly judging. 

There was much to do with the weekend fast approaching— however it was barely lunchtime. Frost wasn’t expecting to see Joker until sundown, if at all today. The fact that Joker was here was enough for Frost to give him the side eye.  

“Hm, I know that look. What’s err.. on ya mind Frosty?” Joker sang.  

“You are. What’re you doing here, Boss?” Frost asked.  

Joker cast a dark glare at his right-hand man. Frost was far too uptight to engage in idle chatter, so J saw right through the question. Not like he would delve in an honest answer. “Awww! Thinkin’ of little ol’ me? I’m uh flattered.”  

What a way to dodge the question. Frost snorted and jabbed the down button on the elevator panel.  

The abandoned warehouse looked decrepit on the outside, but years of money laundering and Mac’s excellent bookkeeping skills allowed the entire interior to be fully renovated. This particular hideout was the second best in the organization and Joker’s personal favorite to date. He was unable to secure his main location in the heart of Amusement Mile from the GCPC since there was still an active manhunt for him.  

They could look all they wanted. Joker was hiding in plain sight, and he had you to thank for such a feat. His Light provided more than shelter; you offered him a home.  

And Frost could see the positive impact that had on Joker.  

A calm aura had settled over the dark clown. Joker was slower to anger, and Frost could see a ghost of a smile peeking through the indifferent mask his boss tended to wear. You were a blessing for Joker and his volatile temperament.  

Showing up at the hideout during its current crisis would ruin your months of arduous work in seconds. It was in Frost’s (and everyone’s) best interest to ward Joker away. Going about it would prove to be difficult.  

The two men boarded the elevator, and Frost spoke up as the doors closed. “If I were you, I’d be spending the day with B, not cooped up underground, stirring up trouble.” 

“Watch it Frost.” J said in warning despite it being empty. Frost knew how far he could push J’s buttons so he went a bit further.  

“Just sayin’ boss. Today’s a good day to make up for a date that someone promised a certain someone. Something about a ‘night she’ll never forget?’ Some lie that turned out to be.” 

Quick thinking on Frost’s part prevented him from being punched in the face and Joker barely felt the white-hot pain of his fist hitting the metal walls. He was more upset that he missed than his busted knuckles.  

“I. Got. The. Message.” Joker growled.  

The elevator was a small space, yet Frost managed to create enough distance long enough for the doors to ding open and escape unharmed. He was wise to leave while he was still alive, yet he still had much to say. “I bet you do J. Mac’s in his office.” He said over his shoulder.  

Joker gave him a deadpan ‘so?’ look.  

Honestly, Frost did not get paid enough for this. Did he have to spell it out for the man? Apparently so. Frost sighed and did just that.  

“The master planner and the finance guy should be able to come up with something memorable for Y/n. She more than deserves it after everything you’ve done.”  

Frost sent his boss a knowing glare before he disappeared down the hall. Joker was left standing in the elevator, lost in the sea of his own thoughts.  

What if you found out about all the horrors that he’d done? Would you still love him? Was it all worth it in the end if you left him? Joker’s hands shook as he considered the unthinkable and his eyes quickly scanned the area to check if he was alone.  

No one could see him in a rare moment of weakness as he battled his inner demons.  

He mashed the button to close the elevator doors and struggled to catch his breath. Joker was smart. When he wanted something to disappear; it did. He covered his tracks and then burned all evidence to it. He shouldn’t have to worry about the what ifs, yet they suddenly hit him full force.  

In an ideal world, you would never find out what Joker did, nor would you accuse him if his misdeeds ever saw the light of day. There was nothing to panic about. He was just overreacting!  

God, he hoped he was just overreacting.... 

Joker nodded to himself, wiped the blood from his knuckles, and exited the elevator.  

Following Frost’s advice, Joker schooled his features and approached Mac’s humble office. Joker didn’t need to knock; he was the boss after all, yet he wasn’t expecting his bookkeeper to be preoccupied upon entry.  

J arched an eyebrow at the blissfully unaware blond twirling around like a schoolboy in his office chair.  

“Nah baby, you got enough flowers. Why don’t I pull up later and give you something we both know you want?” Mac smiled into his phone and was mid spin when he noticed his boss standing in the doorway. The sight could make anyone have a heart attack and Mac was no different. “Oh shhhh.. I’ll call you back!”  

Hopefully Morgana would forgive him for hanging up so abruptly. Right now, he needed to save face in front of his employer and avoid a premature death.  

Mac sat up and scrambled to look the poised, savvy businessman he was. His awkward wave was the icing on the failure cake. “Sup Boss.”  

Joker could care less. Morgana was an uncertain piece to Joker’s current dilemma. He expected Mac to hit it off with the florist after being assigned to shadow her. He didn’t trust her just yet and he wasn’t dumb enough to let her roam Gotham City freely after discovering you were dating The Joker.  

J was wise enough to manipulate his men into watching your friends on his behalf. The same precautions were enforced for Florence by Neo and Joker hoped that Mac didn’t repeat history.  

You would undoubtedly notice if Morgana went missing and with it, Joker’s credibility would shatter. He could not lose his Light. End of discussion.  

For now, J would have to starve off his need to cut loose ends.  

Your friend was safe until proven a threat and judging by Mac’s romantic pursuit, she wouldn’t be.  

He just hated playing nice with others. It was still a new concept to him. “Oh, do call her back, I insist.” J cooed. Today was a good day to start practicing.  

Mac was justified in being cautious. The eerie smile on Joker’s face put him on edge. “You— you want me to call Morgana back? Uhh why?”  

Blue eyes watched as Joker plopped down in the nearby chair and started fiddling with the various objects on the desk. Mac knew that Joker was stalling, it was his favorite scare tactic. When J picked up a costly paperweight, Mac had to interrupt.  

“Sir. Is there a reason, or do you simply wish to harass the poor woman further? I told you; Morgana will keep her mouth shut. She’s too loyal to Y/n.”  

“What’s loyalty hm? Soo~ooo easily bro-K-en.” Joker mumbled.  

He broke the trinket to prove a point and failed numerous times to place it back on the desk the way it was before. Mac had no other choice but to sigh in resignation watching his loony boss make things worse. That was a collector’s item reduced to scrap pieces.  

J knew firsthand how infatuation could blind people to the truth.  

Loyalty could be bought and sold as quickly as the wind changed direction. Soon he would put Morgana to the ultimate test but today, his request would be tame.  

If only lover boy would follow instructions.  

Joker finally got the broken pieces to stay still long enough to look intact. It fell apart a second later. Neither Joker nor Mac cared at this point. “Call. Her. Back.” Joker demanded.  

The room was silent as the two men engaged in a staring contest yet early on, it was clear who would win. Mac caved when the venomous green became too much to bear. He dialed Morgana back and put the phone on speaker— while silently praying the call didn’t turn sour.  

Just as he expected, she was not happy.  

“You got some nerve pretty boy calling back after that lil stunt! You can go ahead and kiss your rights to this pussy goodbye. Are you always this arrogant or is it generic with you snobby socialites? Hello? Oh, so now you don’t wanna speak? That’s fine.”  

Both men could hear her crudely cutting something in the background, most likely with her garden shears, and it didn’t sound pretty. Mac looked distressed the longer Morgana continued her one-sided rant. 

She added insults far more creative than Joker could ever imagine and he decided to intervene to save Mac’s ego.  

He started by clearing his throat, “Hi…..” There was a brief pause before Morgana groaned into the mic.  

“Oh. It’s you. Please don’t tell me you killed Mac and taken his phone? I can’t get a refund on our dinner reservations if he’s a no-show. Matter of fact... do you like Peruvian?”  

It was no wonder why you liked Morgana so much. She was so unbothered and detached from drama compared to your other friends.  

She boldly talked to the Clown Prince of Crime like it was an average day for her. Joker could get used to her sense of humor if he tried. Then he reminded himself that trying was his only option.  

“He’s fiiiiiine errr.. more or less. That’s noT why I called. Ya see, I need a favor and you’re just the girl to help.” He was offended by her automatically disagreeing.  

“I’m not Poison Ivy. If you don’t require my legal business or any help with Y/n, you got the wrong girl.” 

Joker licked his teeth, mulling over her audacity.  

Morgana was acting cheeky as if he wouldn’t harm her. It would not be a hassle to make the short journey to her storefront and teach her how people should talk to The Joker.  

Mac must’ve seen the idea forming in his boss’ mind, for he leaned over the desk and re-entered the conversation.  

“Hey baby. I never took you as someone to turn down a potential business deal. Just hear him out.” 

Morgana sighed knowing that Mac knew something she didn’t. To save her hide, she changed her tune.  

She put down her shears and retreated into her backroom, far away from any customer’s earshot. “Fine, what business does a known psychopathic murderer want with my humble flower shop?” 

Joker snorted. Morgana’s shops were anything but humble. Lavish maybe.  

She had a partnership with EverFresh, (a mega supermarket) for Pete's sake, but he wasn’t going to argue. All that was on Joker’s mind was the night he wished to create for his Light and he would do anything necessary to make it happen since he failed twice now to deliver.  

It would be easier to demand and steal to get his way, but his Light would frown upon that. Joker would have to do this the hard way and unfortunately, that would take some time. 

“I would uh li-Ke....” J glanced at Mac for guidance and the blond quickly wrote on a legal pad for his boss to read. “I would like to.. order a custom floral arrangement.” J read back robotically.  

Mac didn’t know if the delivery would be enough to sway the florist. Joker clearly didn’t make it sound believable.  

Tense seconds passed where both men waited for Morgana’s response, and it came in the form of her laughter. “Now you’re speaking my language!”  

You stepped off the elevator and was promptly greeted by a new secretary seated at the front desk.  

Someone higher up must’ve let her know who you were since she didn’t stop you and ask for credentials. You were free to walk in as if you owned the place. In a way, you did.  

You were the most successful author signed within the publishing house. None of the other contracted authors were killing the game like you. You were Cindy’s pride and joy, and she made that wildly known within the firm. 

You kept your eyes straight on the path to her frosted monogrammed doors. 

People roamed about the large office space, working and mingling, yet it was all background noise to you. The goal was to avoid any interaction and especially with Cindy’s brash and all-around creepy business partner, Thomas Ford.  

He was bound to be lurking around this time of day.  

All these years and he still did not get the hint that you weren’t interested. You thought Bruce’s brief relationship of sorts with you would end any future encounters, but alas, nothing would deter this guy.  

The second you tip-toed pass Thomas' door; it opened in earnest. “Y/n! Long time to see!”  

His booming voice must be the source of many headaches around the firm. Nevertheless, you were taught manners and (regrettably) stopped in your tracks to reply. You turned with a tight smile masking your displeasure. “Mr. Ford..” You said curtly.  

Despite being notorious for eloquent word play, your brain conveniently decided to short circuit now of all times. Words failed you, as if Thomas noticed or cared. He simply stepped outside his door, leaning on the frame. 

“Now Y/n, we’ve known each other long enough for you to call me Thomas, unless you have a thing for titles then I totally understand.” He blocked the way to Cindy’s office and sent you a sly wink.  

Was that supposed to flatter you? 

If he didn’t reek of sexual harassment, you would have a better opinion of the man. He was decent looking, like any corporate male in a suit and tie would be you supposed. Joker had truly corrupted your view of the average male. Normal just didn’t cut it anymore. 

In any case, you were tired of men not knowing how to accept rejection, especially Thomas. “Riiiight. Um if you would excuse me, I have a meeting with Cindy.” 

“I’m afraid she stepped out.” 

The sentence made you stumble a bit in your heels. Surely you heard him incorrectly, but he looked rather confident while watching your clumsy reaction unfold. 

You blinked a mile a minute trying to reboot your system and as a result, your Blüdhaven accent slipped out a bit. “Whatchu mean she ‘stepped out’? I just hit her up this morning!” 

Thomas was taken aback hearing the sudden dialect, but he replied after a brief pause. “Cindy left over an hour ago. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait here with me. If you want, we can catch a lunch together.” He stopped to leer at your body, “Or dessert.” 

Ew. “No thank you.” You said bitterly. You did not need this buffoonery this early in the day.  

You walked off and continued your journey, halfheartedly greeting others on your way to Cindy’s office when you couldn’t ignore them outright. Things seemed normal until you pushed the glass doors open and realized that the room was empty. She really wasn’t here.  

It didn’t make any sense to you. Cindy never left her office unless lunch wasn’t available for delivery and a runner was unable to pick it up. You jokingly scolded her once for not evacuating during a fire alarm so the notion that she just ‘up and left’ wasn’t clicking in your mind.  

Something wasn’t right here. You were about to dial her number when Thomas startled you from behind.  

“Is there something wrong, Y/n?”  

You yelped and faced the imposing male smiling down at you.  

You were used to his creepy behavior but today it was freaking you out even more. You weren’t expecting him to follow you in here and why didn’t you hear the door closing?  

You backed away, instinctively drifting towards the exit. “N-No, I’m just.. I’m calling Cindy.” 

“Why?”  

You fixed him with a sour glare, “Because! I don’t believe you and c-can you... please back up?” He ignored your request and rounded the decorative glass table holding published books to get closer to you. “Why? Does my presence bother you that much honeydew?” Thomas laughed.  

You froze in fear upon hearing the familiar nickname and your phone slipped from your hand, falling onto the floor.  

Thomas watched it fall and was about to tease you further for being a klutz when the office doors opened.  

Cindy walked in and immediately her eyes landed on her business partner. “What the…? Why are you in my office Ford?” She tossed her purse down and marched her way over.  

A few seconds passed before she noticed you kneeling on the floor with your hands covering your ears. “Oh my god, Y/n? Are you alright!?” She reached your side and looked you over. You were breathing erratically, shaking your head.  

When she received no response, she unleashed her ire. Her target was the man looking rather innocent while you slipped into a panic attack. “WHAT DID YOU DO?” She demanded.  

Thomas had the audacity to look offended. “Me? I didn’t do anything! I was just talking—” 

“F__k that. GET OUT. I’ll deal with you later.” She doted on you and gently smoothed your hair down but looked up when she didn’t hear Thomas leaving. He was still standing there watching you freak out.  

“Are you deaf? Get out or do I need to call security to help you?” Her threat pumped enough wind in his sails and she watched him go with narrowed eyes. Hearing your pitiful whimper redirected her focus back to you. “Hey. Y/n it's okay, he’s gone.” 

She waved her assistant away when they tried to walk in. Cindy didn’t want to anyone to see you in such a vulnerable state. She was completely out of her depth on how to handle this and needed reinforcements. “Is there anyone I can call for you?” 

You almost responded yes, but how would you explain that you wanted Cindy to call The Joker of all people to come to your rescue?  

He was the only person you wanted right now but his mere presence would only create more problems, so you shook your head in the negative.  

You knew you were scaring Cindy with your unusual behavior. She was used to your mellow and socially awkward nature whenever you visited the office but never this.  

You came here to work on finalizing your GothCon appearance not to have another mental breakdown in your manager’s office.  

These episodes were becoming increasingly more frequent, and you hated feeling powerless to stop them. Something had to change. You couldn’t let dark memories and harmless words keep triggering you like this.  

You had to take the initiative, starting now.  

You took a deep breath and started slapping your face to regain control of yourself. Cindy jumped, watching the assault take place. “Uh? Y/n?”  

“What? No, I-I'm fine.” You flinched away feeling her hand unexpectedly land on your arm. She noticed and let it drop just as quickly as she offered it.  

An awkward silence enveloped the room, and Cindy was the brave person to cut the tension. She didn’t know how to address this but pressed on anyhow. 

“Y/n? Did he?” She paused, not liking how you visibly bristled. “Did Thomas hurt you?” 

What a loaded question. Would she even do anything if you told her that Thomas, her business partner for years, was an overall creep and constantly harassed you?  

Cindy might be a close friend, but she was a businesswoman first, stuck in a man’s world.  

Men like Thomas were never the problem, instead it was the female who complained that received backlash. He would laugh off your accusations, calling it harmless banter and the trouble that went to speaking up, would only come back to haunt you. There would be awkward tension between you and Cindy and the executives of the publishing house—that Thomas was conveniently a member of.  

Ford took you as the type of male to abuse his power and you read many a tale about how the victims were scorned by powerful men. He would make your life miserable for daring to speak the truth.  

You refused to let Thomas ruin your career and life all because of a few ‘harmless comments.’  

You knew the system well enough to know unless things became physical, (with proper evidence) complaining would do nothing.  

With that mindset you were resigned to keep quiet but not for long. You had a special card up your sleeve.  

Cindy called your name and repeated her question on the off chance that you might’ve not heard it.  

Instead of answering, you brushed imaginary dust from your sweater dress and rose from the floor. “Anyhoo, I was thinking, a big movie announcement followed by a controlled Q&A slot. Maybe five to ten minutes and then round out the allotted presentation time with a new book teaser.” 

You made yourself comfortable on her meeting couch and continued to brainstorm aloud only to be interrupted. 

“Y/n.. I asked you a question.” Cindy was flabbergasted at how you easily brushed off her concern. In her eyes, your flippant attitude raised major red flags and after your visit, she would be investigating her business partner thoroughly to get some answers.  

Right now, she was worried about you. It wasn’t like you to dismiss things so casually. Although you made your intentions clear with a fixed glare.  

“Cindy... I am here to sign contracts and finalize the convention details. I do not have enough spoons left for anything else.”  

Your voice cracked about halfway through, and you could tell when Cindy understood just how close you were to walking out.  

You wanted her to stick to the script. As your manager she could play along and act professional—but Cindy considered herself your friend. She could tell this was seriously bothering you more than it should.  

It pained her to ignore the elephant in the room but if this was your way of coping, so be it.  

Cindy cleared her throat and went to grab her tablet from off her desk before joining you back on the couch, sitting across from you. “Right. Um... New book teaser! Let’s talk about that.” 

You were grateful for the change of subject and relaxed into your role as her client. Sure enough, as the hour passed, things settled into a good rhythm although Cindy still kept a weary eye on you.  

Lunch and mindless paperwork out of the way, she opened her arms for a goodbye hug, only for you to shy away and scramble out her office without a word.  

Cindy tried not to be offended; you were always weird about physical contact. She just thought today would be different. You looked like you needed a shoulder to lean on.  

Nevertheless, Cindy waited a few minutes for you to leave the building before she made a phone call. It rang for a bit until a cheery voice answered.  

Cindy didn’t waste anytime getting to the point. “Hey Barb. Something is wrong with Y/n. Fill me in on what you know.”  

[ravenmichaelisstuff]

Just thought about Ghost learning to enjoy small things (mostly food) in his life through coffee.

//Fluff

So here is the idea:

Ghost always preferred tea over coffee.

Tea was something soothing and calming, something he could drink to fall asleep easier. He enjoyed the taste which was kind of herbal and pleasant on his tongue. Even the process of making it, the routine of waiting for the tea leaves to do their magic, pouring just a bit of milk, waiting for the tea to cool off just a bit so it didn't burn his lips.

Tea was a luxury, something he did because he wanted to, but he also did it rarely for the exact same reason. He rarely felt the need to satisfy himself with things he just simply enjoy.

Coffee on the other hand was a necessity. Something he had to pour into himself usually boiling hot and straight out of the kettle. The beverage was bitter and heavy on his pallet, almost nauseating and leaving this awful aftertaste in his mouth.

But it was necessary for him to drink it. He needed it to wake up and get through the day after a night of terrors.

He for a long time didn't understand how Soap could enjoy this.

But then he noticed Soap making his coffee every morning.

Taking his time every morning.

Sometimes adding various syrups

chocolate,

ice,

and whipped cream.

Ghost at some points doubted if Soap was for sure still drinking coffee.

But he was curious, so one morning he asked Soap to make him a cup too.

And he was surprised when Johnny asked him "With what Lt?".

And Ghost realized that he had no idea what he actually enjoyed. He never paid attention to those things, he never actually bought anything for himself 'just because he thought he would like it' except tea.

So he told Soap to surprise him. And he actually did.

Because when Soap's coffee wasn't even close to his tea, he did enjoy it.

It was sweet, creamy and cool- maybe even refreshing.

So he began to ask Soap for coffee every morning. And with time he developed a taste for things. An enjoyment for a chocolate latte with whipped cream and brown sugar sprinkled on top.

Yes, it was atrocious and probably shouldn't even be called a coffee. But he liked it.

And he noticed that Johnny started to serve him small snacks with his latte.

Some he despised, some he liked and some became his absolute favourite. Soap would always get him more of those which made Ghost mutter in approval or close his eyes in enjoyment.

Soon Soap could vaguely say which snacks Ghost would enjoy.

They learned Ghost likes milk chocolate but not dark chocolate. He didn't like gummies and banana-flavoured things- it tastes artificial.

Soap cringed when he bought some liquorice candy for Ghost, just to fuck with him a bit just to realize that the bastard actually loved that black excuse of a candy.

But what was nice was the fact that when they were both on supply runs, Ghost began to... kind of look longer at things at the store. He never actually took those things himself- but Soap was always sure to snatch those things and put them in their cart.

Ghost silently appreciated that.

It was a long road for Ghost to learn that he can have nice things just because he feels like it.

But one special day in a grocery store, when he and Soap were already heading to check out. Ghost stopped and grabbed a pack of marshmallows and before he put it in the cart he looked at Soap like he would be denied this sweet snack.

But Soap only smiled at him.

"Didn't know you like marshmallows, Lt."

"I don't know if I do... I never had them."

"Well, it's a great time to try!"

And Soap smiled the whole way to base because Ghost finally wanted something for himself.

I don't know what I mean by that, I just kind of went with the flow. Sometimes I Just get the urge to write about those two, you know?

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Think of concept art, but in the form of a fic. This is Finn's OB concept fic, just a vague idea

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Paint

They were there. They were watching. Watching him. Watching, waiting, all eyes on him. Empty black sockets trained on him.

Paint them. Paint them, and you'll feel better. Yes, that's what he always did. Paint them, it'll make everything more bearable.

There was no colour this time. Thick, sticky, black paint was poured onto... something. Was it a canvas? Maybe. He couldn't remember.

The paint was too numerous and thick for the brush. It lay abandoned on the floor, dripping in black.

Fingers worked better. Faster. Caked in black paint that never seemed to run out, they raked across the rough surface in twists and turns, curves and loops.

Paint stained his hands and trailed up his arms. It clung to his hair and leaked down his face like thick, cold tears.

Crying. They were crying now. Ear-piercing, skull-splitting wails that were far from natural. This was wrong. They had never made a sound before. Only in his dream would they sob and whisper and wail.

His fingers left the canvas, and he covered his ears and slumped to the floor. He opened his mouth- to do what, he didn't know- only to find himself choking on pitch black paint that spewed forth wildly.

Stop. Make it stop. Make them stop staring, stop crying. Make the paint stop flowing.

Who was he asking? He didn't know. Someone. Anyone. Anyone who would listen. He just wanted this to end. He wanted it to be quiet. He wanted it to be peaceful. It was too loud. Too much noise.

They wouldn't stop crying.

...........................................

A/N: I hope ya'll enjoyed this experimental fic. There's a ton of stuff I cut from the original draft.

Tagging: @distant-velleity @kitwasnothere @cynthinesia @krenenbaker @jaylleoo14 @whspermy-name @theleechyskrunkly @officialdaydreamer00 @the-banana-0verlord @twisted-wonderland-but-gayer @jovieinramshackle @casp1an-sea

@ramshacklerumble @poisoned-pearls :P

[blingblong55]

gaaahh I love your platonic TF141 x reader!! I was wonder if we could get some more, but for a Gn!Reader?

for context I find it hard to swap pronouns when reading, but if not that's fine lol!

and if you want, have some writing prompts!

-Southern!Reader gets drunk, acting like a fool, they're accent the strongest it's ever been, and TF141 is just "wtf are they even saying?"

-general shenanigans with Gaz and Reader, pranking ghost >:]

-SNOW DAY! the boys have the day off, and it ends up with a snowball fight, soap, ghost, and reader VS. gaz, price, and könig (yes I added him I am a simp for this man)

-Reader gets hit on in public, and 141 acts like big brothers + father and beat the crap outa whoever was unfortunate enough to pick on Reader

-DAD PRICE. just. him teaching Reader things, giving pointers, and being protective off-field

anyways sorry for the long ask! hope your doing well :]

Sweet Creature -141+König

ofc! I always try to make my readers comfortable when reading so never shy away for asking this!

This is a collection of moments your boys have been through with you...(there is mentions of an American reader, but if you please it can only apply to the first one.)

GN! Reader, Plantonic! Relationship

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(I had to look up southern sayings so if this part doesn't make sense I apologize. (feeling too brit today..sorry))

After a much needed out in the town 141 had been deployed to, r/n decided it would be great to compete against Soap in a drinking game. Drink after drink, your once good basic American accent left your lips and was soon replaced with your souther accent. Price at first found it funny, until he couldn't tell exactly what you were trying to say.

Gaz: that was until I dropped it all

R/n to Ghost: That's 'bout as useful as tits on a bull, wouldn't ya'say?

Price: *chuckles* what does that even mean kid?

R/n: o' bless ya heart sir (apparently it means idiot,,,so don't come for me) y'dumber than a mule

*a woman passes by their table and Gaz starts checking her out*

R/n: look at him price, he's grinnin' like a possum eatin' a sweet tater

Price: seriously what does that mean?

Ghost: think they mean he looks like a dumb arse

Gaz stands up to try and talk to that woman

R/n: soap tell em somethin'

Soap: go get her tiger

R/n: No, no,,,you hold your horses now...she ain't even turn to ya and yo're hotter than hell al'ready?

Price: right...let's get you home r/n

R/n: I can take 'nother one....

Ghost: not today *he picks you up and off to base you go*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After an uneventful evening Gaz and r/n decided to annoy Ghost, a ritual Price had gotten used to, after Ghost came in to complain every week. Price would always discard them because he loved having his children smile and be young and happy.

There was one time where you placed syrup on his tea. Another time, you kept calling his phone, pretending to be some religious group, this went on for 3 months. One time you made him believe the whole base left him, you stole his phone and clothes, best believe you never saw the devil until that day.

2 weeks ago, Ghost was tricked into eating some expired MRE, that man got sick so easily, Gaz was tricked into taking the blame. Meanwhile you enjoyed some banana with soap as Ghost chased Gaz for 30 minutes, until you tripped Gaz and ran to price.

R/n: dumb bitch!*you ran so fast, soap swore it was you being chased*

----

This happened at 2 am, Ghost's room.

You and gaz know how much ghost hates dirty bed sheets. So you did this:

Gaz: r/n pass me the chocolate

R/n: why are we doing this again?

Gaz: its fun

R/n: how will this even work?

Gaz: it'll melt under his body and make it look like he shat himself

R/n: this is so cool

Gaz: shh

you two walked into Ghost's room, he was dead asleep, when he shifted to his left side, Gaz placed the chocolate near his bum, you two successfully ran out and waited outside all morning.

Ghost opens his door, anger flowing through him

Ghost: where are these little twats

That's when you and Gaz ran away to Price's office, he eventually caught up and complained to Price. (I'm picturing that office scene when Dwight and Jim are complaining to Micheal. Yes, the American one. )

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This time the team was deployed to Switzerland, for everyone it all felt like home, spring and summer was quite lovely, that's until Price was told this deployment would be longer that expected. Winter rolled in, everyone was prepared for a harsh winter, except you, who had never experienced snow. You had told soap how every year when you're away from home, snow has hit hard, and that you had never seen snow in real life.

This had become a perfect opportunity for him to show you how much you meant for the team. So once he had told price about the sad story of yours, they planned an entire day out.

Soap: c'mon r/n its time for your surprise.

He bought you gloves and a scarf,( he knows how easily it is to get cold.) Once outside, you ran around screaming in delight. "This is awesome!" you said as you tackled soap onto the snow.

Gaz was the one who started the snowball fight. Price took his side. Ghost and soap took yours. Poor König was stuck in the middle, deciding who to join, until price dragged him to his side and that's when the fight seriously started.

(Picture that SpongeBob snowball fight)

Soap tripped multiple times, your face was covered in snow because you couldn't stop laughing at him. Ghost did most of the dirty work, he seriously took this serious.

He pulled you both down, "right, so while I get price, r/n you get König, he'll feel bad for throwing things at a midget and quit, gaz will soon give up, so soap he is all yours.

"That was mean man" you said but all he did was push you to the floor, where you got stuck for 2 minutes. He eventually helped you up and continued the fight.

Even though he was a trained soldier, König never threw anything at any of you, he was too afraid of getting anybody injured. Best believe this man walked out and waited until things became friendly. He eventually built a snowman. The same one soap ran through. "awh, my snow friend" he sadly spoke. (please imagine this with his cute little Austrian accent and his giant figure just looking down and picking up the sticks and hat from his snowman..)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

This time around you encouraged the team to go out once more. It was September in some other country. After years of working with your boys you never expected them to be your guard dogs. You went up to the bar to order your drinks, until two people walked up behind you and sat at the stools beside you. (I'll let ya decided on the gender ;) )

"What is a cute thing like you doing around this place" one spoke, while the other got too close for comfort.

" Look whatever it is..I'm not interested" you answered,

The guys know you're able to fend for yourself, after all they've seen you kill men with your bare hands, but you had become their little sibling. They all swore to protect you no matter how big or small your problems were.

"You're just here by yourself love?" the other said, while reaching for you.

Price tapped that persons shoulder, "leave them alone," as price spoke to them, soap took you and brought you to the other side. "You stay here, understood?" he cupped your face in his hand.

All you did was nod. "good" he walked away and the four men took them out the back. "you don't touch them ever, or else I swear you'll go back home in a bag" Ghost towered over them,

"this is nonsense, they aren't even good looking!" one said.

(this is very...manners maketh man...vibes )

Price swung and hit ones jaw, "you fuck!" they said holding onto their face. "run you pricks" gaz threatened. "Soap hand me your gun"Price never took his eyes off of them. Ghost took out on of his pocket knives, he caressed it and looked at them. Gaz did too, man would he defend you.

But before soap handed his gun to his captain they had ran out.

Once inside, you sat there. Starring at them with those kind eyes of yours. They immediately went soft. "Got your favorite drink, kid?"

"yes, can I asked what happened out there?"

"nope...after this we can get some McDonalds, that's if you never ask about this again" man was he good at deals you thought.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(For this one I'll put you as a 23yr old, who specializes in hand to hand combat, and demolitions, as well as a training sniper, mainly bc i feel you need a little background.)

Price never understood how his colleagues could afford love for their kids. He didn't get how one little human would change their ways of being. That's until you arrived at base. Fresh off boot camp.

The day he met you, he understood why his friends back home retired after having kids. It went from him sparring with you, just to test your limits to making sure you were getting sleep, (this man for sure tucked you in)

"Sir, you're telling me that if I boil that liquid it will actually turn into a quality beverage?"

"How do I change my tire?"

"wait..how do I check for my oil?"

"price? are you sure I can go home? I don't want to be alone."

" can you please kill it? I'm scared man."

After teaching you from the most basic things in life a father should teach to what a military dad would teach, he grew fond of you.

Around December he found you roaming base, all alone. The rest of the team (except him ofc) was sent back home, to spend time with family and friends. Once you explain how you had no family to go back home to, he made you pack your bags and head to his. Funny enough, Ghost was already heading to his, it had become a thing between them.

He told you about his wife, how she wasn't able to conceive and how excited she was to met you. Later that week, she called you her child. You and Ghost had found a forever home with him. "These are my children." she proudly said to anyone who asked about the two socially awkward people standing next to her.

A week before Christmas, he took you and ghost hunting, that day he let you have a puff off of his cigar. "be careful now, don't inhale too much." he pointed at you, like he was talking to a child.

After the holiday, you were allowed to call him dad, pops when you were at his place.

Out at bars, he would keep you close. And when someone would clearly flirt with you, it was in him to remind you "no person will ever be good enough for you, understand kid?"

He even cracked dad jokes with Ghost and you. He made sure to update his family portrait from him and his wife to one of the four of you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tags: @thatonesimpyknow

a/n: I know It really long..but I hope you did enjoy it!

REQUEST ARE OPEN!!

[fredwkong]

I wonder what would have happened if Eric had taken the rembutan card. It would be nice too know since we had showen what peach and banana card did to him!

The day after he picks the Rambutan card, Eric notices some fine hairs growing in across his chest. He runs his hands up and down the short strands, enjoying the sensation. It’s a strangely erotic experience.

By the next morning, it’s clear that something supernatural is occurring. His chest hair has grown from a small patch at his sternum to a layer of short hair all across his upper chest, and his armpit hair seems to be getting longer. Even his pubes are growing out, the hairs poking through his boxers.

Eric’s never been much of a sweaty guy before. Suddenly, with this growing pelt of hair on his body, the summer heat is causing him to sweat way more than he’s used to. Somehow, the sweat seems to stick to the thickening hair, making Eric feel strangely sticky and warm all day. Before long, he can smell his body odour starting to build up.

When he gets home from class, Eric strips and goes to shower, but pauses. Dark brown hair is growing all over his body, from the tops of his toes up his slender thighs, over his ass and up on his shoulders. His chest hair is beginning to obscure the skin underneath. And his pubes are so long his soft cock is hardly visible.

A distinct smell emerges from Eric’s cock and balls, his ballsweat caught in the hair beginning to emerge. It’s an enticing scent, somehow, not disgusting like Eric expected. His cock begins to harden. If his crotch smells that good at a distance, Eric wonders, what would his hairy pits smell like at close range?

Pretty soon, Eric’s sitting on the floor of his dorm bathroom, huffing and slobbering in his armpit while he jerks his cock with his other hand. With each sniff, Eric’s hair grows longer and thicker, catching the sweat pouring from his overheated body to convert into this sexy, irresistible smell.

One of Eric’s floormates opens the door and stops dead. He looks like he’s about to scream at Eric, but then the thick scent of Eric’s man musk fills his nose and his eyes roll back. The warm, humid air, thick with Eric’s scent, flows out the door and begins to permeate the entire floor. Before long, every guy in the dorm is engaged in an impromptu orgy, while Eric roils in ecstasy from the sensation of men licking and sucking his thick, sweaty hair all over.

The box of cards vanishes from his desk.

[itaerae]

i love her — s. ricky

pairing: ex!ricky x reader

synopsis: you knew you weren’t ricky’s first girlfriend, but you sure thought you would be his last. except what happens when he occasionally thinks of her after promising you were the only one he loved ?

word count: 0.5k

warnings: angst, mentions of being drunk, mentions of infidelity, arguments, profanity ! fyi, this is NOT how i see ricky irl, this is just a work of FICTION. (not proofread)

authors note: lowkey haven’t written angst in a while so this might be dookie, please bare with me lol. happy reading loves ! ⟡

—

the clock struck midnight, yet your boyfriend was still nowhere to be seen. he’d promise to come around for your weekly home date, but that promise was near broken. you were getting fed up, but decided to have a little more patience. maybe he was caught in traffic ?

calling my love 🤍. . .

another missed call. you huffed, throwing your phone across the couch. where could he be at this hour without his phone ? just then, you heard a knock on your door. torn between wanting to open it and leaving it, you went for the former.

and there he was, standing right on your porch with a plastic bag in hand. “ricky ? where the hell were you ?” he reeked of alcohol, so much you nearly gagged. but he said nothing, just side-hugging you and pushed pass the doorway, making his way onto your couch.

this angered you, how dare he just show up to your house out of thin air without saying a word ? “sorry for being so late, but i brought your favorite snack..” he muttered with a slight smile, holding up the bag that was in his hand. you raised your eyebrows curiously and picked up the bag.

you pulled out what seemed to be a box of pocky. but upon seeing the label, you were a bit disappointed. “ricky, you know banana split is my least favorite—” then the realization hit you like a truck. had he bought his ex’s favorite flavor on purpose ? was this some sort of sick joke ?

“(name), what’s wrong ?” your eyes welled up with tears. you didn’t want to believe it, you couldn’t believe it. “ricky.. are you seeing her again ? are you cheating on me, please tell me the truth.”

his eyes widened, “(name) what are you talking about ? the only one i’ve been seeing is you, love. what’s going on ?” his words pissed you off. how could he be so sincere when lying straight to your face? did he have no shame ? “baby i swear i’m not seeing anyone else, please ! you can check my phone, anything ! you’re the only one that i love, (name).”

“no.. no i’m not. tell me, you still love her right ? you still think about her, don’t you ?” you were expecting denial or reassurance of some sort. but you had your answer by the way his faced dropped, forming a guilty expression. and that was enough to let your tears flow. “was i ever enough for you ? was this whole relationship just a joke to you ? did you ever love me at all ?” you screamed at him in heartbreak.

seeing how much he broke you had him in sobs as well. only this angered you further, and you lost it. “get out.. GET OUT NOW !” you saw the way he flinched and tried to move closer to engulf you into his embrace. “(name), please i—” you cut him off, “get out of my face, I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN !”

he shook, scared as he’d never seen you like this before. but eventually it dawned on him that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore. accepting his defeat, he made his way to your door. but he knew he had to make one thing known before exiting your life completely.

“i did love you, i truly did, (name). believe me. but i’m so sorry, i just couldn’t love you as much as i love her.” and with that, he walked out, keeping your wish to never to be seen by you again.

taglist: @kpoprhia , @wonswife , @cowsidfk

[corporatefrog]

╭₊˚ ๑︰Playing Mario Kart with Team Stan [headcannon + oneshot]

✧.* tags: college au

✧.* Characters: stan marsh, kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, butters scotch

a/n: i love mario kart so much. I'm kind of awesome at it not to brag or anything (literally no lmaoo) I usually play luigi with the sports bike but I'd probably play dry bones if he was taken

masterlist

Kenny plays Dry Bones or Shy Guy

Kyle plays Toad or Luigi

Stan plays Yoshi or like the male villager 

Butters plays Rosalina (ofc. She’s the best one fr) or fucking baby peach

“Butters why the fuck are you playing as baby peach. No one is playing peach. You can be regular peach.”

“But she’s just a lil fella going through the world!” 

“SHE LEGALLY CANNOT DRIVE”

Yall make your own grand prix with electrodome, music park, maple treeway, and super bell subway (coconut mall if you’re playing the Wii version)

Loser of each grand prix switches out and you keep racking up points until the end of the night

LOTS of smack talk

Through the open window of the upstairs bedroom of the Marsh house on Tegridy Farms, a war brewed. The sounds flowing out the window stood in stark contrast to the peaceful night. A silent breeze rustled the budding cannabis plants, a soft movement that seemed to snap in the other direction as a wave of shouts pushed against the calm wind. 

“Good to know Stan’s still in last place where he belongs” 

“Well at least I’m not Kenny who needs an extra lightweight character to be farther than 6th”

Zooming into the room, a chaotic scene stood in stark contrast to the peaceful night. Various bags of chips scattered Cheeto and Dorito crumbs across the ground to be pulverized into the rug by sock covered feet. A hand pushed aside one of the bags, sending another wave of crumbs onto the ground as they reached for a can of soda. 

Kenny lifted the can to his lips. He drank with one hand angled to the side of his face to keep his eyes on the television screen. Finishing the drink with a loud sigh, he returned the drink to the ground to refocus his attention on the game. And on shit talking Stan. 

“Sorry I don’t listen to people who still drink Svedka.” He remarked, leaning his shoulder to the side as the cart with Dry Bones drifted around a corner. The trial of the cart sparked orange then purple as the speed boost charged. Dry Bones shot forward once the curve ended and pulled ahead of the NPC Bowser kart. 

“That’s rich coming from someone who chugged a week old borg with mountain dew and pinot.” Stan retorted. 

I gasped from my spot on the bed, attention breaking slightly to give Kenny a disgusted look, “Ew dude! Why the fuck did you do that?” I asked despite knowing the answer. There’s only one person who would make Kenny do something stupid like that. The one person who hasn’t been invited to the monthly Mario Kart tournaments in years because he’s a stupid idiot bozo.

“Cartman bet me $50 I couldn’t do it without puking-” Kenny’s response shifted tone as a red shell sent his cart flying off the end of the track “HEY WHAT THE FUCK KYLE! I WAS ALMOST WINNING!” He shouted as the perpetrator snickered on the floor. 

“Yeah, because 4th place is winning- god dammit!” Kyle cursed as his own cart slipped on a banana peel. My character threw a fist in the air to cheer the successful sabotage. 

“I really don’t know why you guys care so much about what place you get,” I mused as my kart pulled across the finish line, the large 1st Place symbol in the corner of my screen announcing the victory, “You’ll never be able to beat a god anyway.” A comical evil laugh boomed from my mouth, my arms raising to the sky as though calling upon the heavens to thank for my continuous win streak. 

Butters jumped up from the beanbag to add another 15 points to my total bringing it to a strong 45 after I’d won the two races prior. 

“I literally sent three blue shells at you. How the fuck did you still win?” Stan complained as he fell back against the bed, control dangling loosely from the wrist strap wrapped around his hand. 

Butters jumped in with a finger raised, “Oh well that’s because they look on the reddit forums during our philosophy class-” I leapt from my spot, rushing to reach Butters before he revealed my secret. My hand covered his mouth as I gave him a pointed ‘don’t you even think about it’ look. 

Turning back to the group with a shaky laugh, I waved off what Butters had almost said. “A Mario Kart god never reveals their secrets. Can’t have the mortals trying techniques they can’t master.” I gave Butters a pat on the shoulder, adding a warning squeeze before returning to my remote. Love the guy but he’s going to be the death of me one day, I swear. 

“Yeah, yeah” Kenny rolled his eyes, “I was just warming up anyway.” He stretched his arms above his head with an over exaggerated yawn. Grabbing his remote in one hand and a soda can in the other, he readied himself for the final race of the first round. 

“Okay? Then get better already? I’m hoping for a little bit of competition this time. Stan might even beat you if you keep racing like shit.” I snapped back at him with a wicked grin. A middle finger pointed my way came from Stan alongside some grumbled comebacks that weren’t loud enough to be heard. 

We all readed ourselves for the final tack, hearts racing in sync as the counter ticked down

3…

I hovered my finger over the accelerator. Not yet.

2…

Four fingers simultaneously pushed down on the controller as wheels spun in place on the screen.

1…

Butters gripped the whiteboard marker in his seat, falling victim to the infectious adrenaline of the room. 

GO!

And we were off.

[genopaint]

We're already on week 40!? It's time to start October!!

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut

Daily Dragon #273 - Craggodon

Large dinosaur-like dragons that tend to live in large rocky areas without much plant life. They actually feed off minerals and geodes found inside rocks so you often see them eating boulders and cracking them into pieces for their young.

That's right! One more alt media dragon!! This time it's made of clay! Which is a HARD medium to work with. But it is fun for sure! This didn't come out at all how I wanted it but I think it's funny and cute enough to work lol

I've got maybe 5 more alt media dragons planned off the top of my head so we'll see whenever I get around to them. I love drawing but it can be draining to draw 200+ things the same way every day lol

Daily Dragon #274 - Ender Dragon

Did you know that despite having played the game for probably billions of hours and the fact that the final boss is a DRAGON I've actually still never beaten Minecraft? Feels crazy to think about. I should get on it one day.

Daily Dragon #275 - Dullahan Green

And of course, the first Dragon of Halloween season is this funny headless Dragon Girl :)

Daily Dragon #276 - The Dragon Knights

Of COURSE the winner for September was the dragon that was 4 characters in one... I mean- THANK YOU ALL FOR VOTING!! Seriously I'm glad you all liked these 4 so much. Just 4 regular high schoolers, nothing to see here!

Here's the results:

Dragon Knights - 4 Votes Blaze Baphomet - 3 Votes Cumulusaur - 2 Votes ???BAHAMUT??? - 1 Vote Decibadon - 1 Vote Greendragon - 1 Vote Dragon Czar - 1 Vote Tarnivore - 1 Vote

September was a pretty strong showing for dragons I think. My favorites are probably between Caimaul, Cave Dino, and Dragon Czar! I loved doing ones in different mediums and I'm excited to try even more in the coming months! It's Halloween month now which means I'll have to do some seriously spooky dragons ASAP! Plus, get ready for day 300 which is fast approaching, I'll need all of your help to make the final community dragon come together, so get the ideas flowing!!

It's probably obvious but I'm coming out of my hiatus. I'll just complain a little bit but it was generally a total failure of a hiatus lmao. I won't go into details but I gotta get back to work ASAP! So expect my commissions to reopen soon enough I suppose!!

Daily Dragon #277 - Plantodon

I've been a little obsessed with Venus Fly Traps lately in case it wasn't obvious lol. These dragons are actually fully made of plants, so they're incredibly weak to fire!

Daily Dragon #278 - Bananusaur

Large dinosaur like dragons that hide in tropical locations, attempting to blend in with bananas that grow in the area. While they can't get far, they can flap the back 2 peel-like appendages to fly short distances

Daily Dragon #279 - Raohgon

Large menacing dragons that typically live in grasslands and fields. They can use their wings to lift them off the ground and carry them through large fields quickly. The energy blast they fire from their powerful jaws is incredibly destructive!

[khaotunq]

i'm so confused that your ask didn't appear in my inbox but instead appeared only in my notifs. wild. ANYWAY I LOVE THIS GIF I'M KISSING U ABOUT IT

EDIT ur ask didn't actually appear on my dash when i posted it so i have cunningly screenshotted

ANY-ANYWAY. Since I'm a liar who said I was going to bed and then didn't, how about AkkAyan dressing up? It's THEMATIC. Also I made that little gif for my ask to you and ended up rewatching the Our Skyy eps in the background, then remembered I wrote this!

*

Wat threw a costume party. That’s how it had started. That was the reason all of Ayan's friends were mad at him.

  In his defence, Wat clearly hadn’t thought through all potential permutations of a costume party for his birthday. He’d given them the prompt of old Thai movies and left them to it.

  It had surprised Ayan how little convincing it had taken to get Akk into the ridiculously tight shirt and pants that predominantly made up his costume. He'd rolled his eyes and fussed and turned his single syllable nickname into a three second groan, but he'd let Aye pick, and he'd certainly voiced no complaints when Ayan had pointed out he’d be wearing something similar, just in black.

  It also shouldn’t have been possible to look good in a ridiculous all-yellow outfit. That was part of Ayan's defence too: nobody but nobody should manage to pull off being dressed head to toe in banana yellow in lieu of gold.

  Akk could, it turned out. Akk did. Ayan was man enough to admit that at least half the reason he'd taken the black outfit was that he knew he'd be entirely unable to control himself around his boyfriend in form fitting black. Akk, at least, could usually be counted on to act appropriately.

  Usually.

  Anyway, it was Wat’s fault. All of it.

  It was Wat's fault they'd even heard of The End of the Red Eagle in the first place. Ayan would have never paid it any mind were it not for Akk insisting that their friendship with Wat depended on it. Ayan did sleep through most of Wat’s suggestions and although Akk ragged on him for it, he thought Akk enjoyed it when he was curled up sleeping in Akk's arms rather than awake and pointing out logical fallacies in any given film just to annoy him.

  So, Ayan had little to no real idea what the plot of Red Eagle was, but Akk hadn’t seemed overly fussed when Ayan suggested the hero and villain as their costumes.

  Ayan suspected Akk had also fallen asleep. He did it more than he'd ever admit to, because Ayan had woken up to him fast asleep under him several times while one of Wat's recommendations played on his laptop next to the bed. Akk would never admit to it, and Ayan found it too endearing to challenge: he knew Akk's phone browser was full of tabs on for various movie pages so that he could refer to them if Wat ever asked.

  By the time they arrived at Wat's, Ayan had reevaluated every choice he'd ever made that had led to that moment. He loved Akk for far more than his physical attributes, but the costume was serving as a brutal reminder of many of those attributes. He loved Akk's legs, which were normally a mile long anyway but were at that moment torturously accentuated by the bright yellow fabric clinging to them.

  Akk's body was already something Ayan was used to thinking about - and wanting - but the frankly obnoxious belt Ayan had picked out had turned his hips and waist into features specifically designed to test Ayan’s ability to keep his hands on the wheel on the drive over.

  Ayan had to unclench and clench his fists several times to get circulation flowing through them again after they’d parked up.

  Akk caught him staring a couple of times and had just laughed at him. He’d leaned in as they waited on Wat’s doorstep and reached around to check Ayan's mask was secure, using the excuse to run his fingers through his hair.

  Akk had started it. That was for sure. It was all Wat’s fault, but Akk had started it by flirting with him so openly. Ayan would have been just fine if Akk would have just kept his hands to himself.

  Whether that was true or not, nobody could prove anything.

[enam3l]

love, lola / chapter seven / banana and the band (5.6k)

Summer is in full swing. As pregnancy occupies your time, Eddie finds his own groove. But will it lead him to a future without you?

a/n: happy ending eventually, slow burn, will they won't they, a lil angsty but never mean eddie! tw: if pregnancy details and adoption

ok guys if you hadn't been wondering where this story was going, i think this chapter might give you a clue! we are really getting going now.

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

The summer of '86 was so far, looking pretty sweet for Eddie Munson; a striking contrast to the events of the spring. On top of being a high school graduate, Eddie was now gainfully employed at The Hideout. Once graduating, for the first time in his life, he'd found himself swimming in free time. No school to waste his time, his drug dealing hat hung up and unfortunately, Corroded Coffin disbanded. The other guys occupied with summer jobs or preparations for leaving Hawkins behind for college. Adventures which were not on the horizon for the likes of himself.

Then, there were only so many times he could interrupt Steve and Robin at Family Video. Eddie had already been scolded for messing with Steve's precious returns piles and Keith was threatening a Munson-ban. As for the kids, they already had so much of their childhood stolen, Eddie wanted them to have the summer to reclaim some. The lanky presence of a twenty year old former drug dealer didn't aid that - which had became painfully obvious when he'd been mistaken for Dustin's dad by the shop assistant at 7/11. And of course there was you. 

Now, you did have the same endless free time as Eddie, yet he was terrified of imposing. Whereas previously, spending countless hours together wasting away the summer months had been second nature, it was no longer. The feelings Eddie first noticed when he was fourteen were bubbling back up to the surface with vengeance. During adolescence it had been easy to coexist with the love he held because being in your warm presence was all he'd known. The blissful ignorance of youth meant he hadn't quite grappled with the overwhelming nature of love. Then during those peak years of realisation from eighteen onwards, you hadn't been there.

The distance college provided was Eddie's saving grace. Allowing him to compartmentalise his feelings towards you and store them in a locked box in the attic of his mind. Two years later, you've now returned. Bursting through the attic hatch, wielding bolt cutters to break open the industrial chains he'd put on that dusty box to keep it sealed. Unwittingly you've now unleashed a lifetime of all consuming love. The kind that has Eddie no longer knowing how to be normal around you. Bubbles fizz in his stomach in your presence, pressure rising to the point he fears the cork will pop and every soppy thought will flow from his mouth. Like a lovesick teenager he feels his palms sweat as his uncontrollable hand itches to take yours. So if anything, Eddie needs something to occupy not only his time but his mind. Something to prevent the impulses that zap through him. 

So that's where Eddie found that for once, the universe offered him a sprinkle of luck. On a summer evening as he nursed a beer, longingly watching you twirl around with Robin, he was propositioned. From behind the bar, Carl, the owner of The Hideout croaked. 

'So, Munson, now you're a free man, take it you been finding yourself with a lotta time on ya hands?'

Eddie scoffs and nods, he doesn't know the half hour of it. Yesterday he took apart and reassembled Wayne's radio just for something to do - it now only plays stations in what they think is Portuguese. 

'Well, can always do with extra hands round here, man...' Carl shrugs. 

Eddie whips his head round, raising an eyebrow. 

'Carl, let's be serious, we both know I am not twenty one, right?' 

Carl cracks up. 

'No shit, kid. You don't think I can tell a Sharpie job on an ID?'

They both laugh, he'd lost the flawless looking fake ID you'd made for him whilst you'd been away. Resulting in him feebly attempting forgery. He quickly realised that fake IDs and forgery were not something he could add to his portfolio of criminal services a long with dealing. 

'Not gonna get your ass shut down for having someone underage kid working?' Eddie asks. Carl shakes his head. 

'Hell no, you think they send agents to check in at this shit hole? Pretty sure we're on file as going out of business a decade ago. Nah, man, your only problem would be Chief Hopper and he'd let it slide for you, right?'

Eddie mulls it over. It's the best offer he's been given... the only offer he's been given. He could get a few drinks for free, maybe use the stage and equipment to practice, see a few gigs. Do anything other than obsess over you. 

'Yeah, yeah, Hopper would be cool. What would you have me doing? Need some muscle on the door,' Eddie smirks, flexing his lean arms like Popeye. 

'Sure, I'll call you if the stray cats outside get rowdy... I was thinking more like the bar. Means I can stay in the office, means the girls we already got on the bar have someone to look out for em, plus you know all the wiring and shit better than me. Can sort all that out for the bands?'

Carl sees the smile spread across Eddie's face and offers out a hand. 

'We got a deal, Munson?'

Eddie's ringed hand grips Carl's aged tattooed one. 

'Fuck yeah.'  

By August you're four months pregnant and every morning is a nauseating guessing game even without the morning sickness. 

Once the creeping morning light wakes you, a ritual that started at the beginning of summer, starts. Five deep breaths, eyes squeeze shut, then you raise your duvet, open your eyes and see if over night your stomach has miraculously blown up like a balloon. Then you convince yourself that sight deceives you and obsessively probe your stomach to see if it feels rounder than last night. All this plotting and secrecy was pointless if your body betrayed you, the bump appearing and giving it away like a pointing neon sign. But thankfully, the universe had granted you a sliver of luck and the bump was barely bigger than the aftermath of a large dinner. Nothing anyone would notice. Nothing Eddie would notice. 

Still, there were other factors you constantly feared would give up the game. You wondered if anyone noticed your reluctance to enter the pool all summer. Both Gran's and Steve's remained untouched by yourself despite numerous days spent lounging around it with your friends. 

'The baby can't drown when it's inside you,' Steve had snorted. 

You knew that, having approached pregnancy as you would a school test. Meticulously revising in attempt to make pregnancy appear as something to learn about and not something happening to you. Swimming was listed as a pregnancy safe exercise. But you're sure the subjects tested weren't in a pool with a gaggle of sun drunk teenage boys and a lanky best friend who insisted on hurling you around. You don't believe it would be best pleased to find itself wobbling around on Eddie's shoulders as you wrestled Robin on top of Steve. Plus, wearing a swim suit that exposed your stomach, highlighting it to the world, felt like tempting fate. And a shallow lovesick part of you didn't want Eddie to see you in a bikini, skin exposed, unless you looked perfect. 

The other glaring giveaway was you weren't drinking and what was summer without boozy evenings with friends? This all became even trickier now Eddie was behind the bar at The Hideout. No longer could you pretend there was rum hiding in your coke when you were ordering from him. Luckily, Steve was a true friend and stepped up. A true friend who had never drank so much in his life. Making sure to always drink your decoy or order on your behalf. You were glad Eddie had got the job, had something to motivate him and get up for. The downside was now he was the Hideout's resident eye candy. Every night out you were forced to witnessed the girls flocking to the bar and pawing at him. Big lashes batting at him, asking for their fourth drink in the last hour; pouting that they'd spilt their previous glass. Infuriatingly, despite being a goof, Eddie was painstakingly charming; something he failed to realise. His natural charisma oozing as he smirked at the girls needing a replacement, 

'Oh it just fell out of your hand? Well we can't be having that, doll. 'Pose you want the same again?'

You watched the girls fluster, knees buckling and not just from the booze and heels, a reaction you'd had a plenty. It only grew worse once they found out he was talented eye-candy as they caught him on stage doing sound checks or providing back up when a band's guitarist had one too many.  The kicker was the female clientele of the Hideout were exactly what you'd imagined his type to be. Buxom heavy metal cover girls with smouldering eyes and a music taste much more in tune with his. A lethal combination of heartbreak, jealousy and fury bubbled inside, only aided by raging pregnancy hormones and again without alcohol to numb the pain. Your only comfort was Steve's protective reaction where he would slide you a warm hand to squeeze. 

That warm hand was there again when you finally caved and went to get your first scan.  Admittedly, you should've already had one but you had buried yourself in denial. Not wanting to hear that tiny pulsing which would cause you to crash land into reality. But at twenty weeks, you knew you had to, it would be irresponsible not to. The adoption agency you had been in contact with needed to know a due date and ideally a scan for prospective parents. It made you feel a little queasy, the thought of the now banana sized being inside you getting advertised. A little grainy picture used to grab the attention of the highest bidder, like a used goods flier pinned to a bulletin board at the grocery store. What could you do though? That was the process, this is what you had to do.

The appointment came round on the 22nd August, a Friday which was far too sunny when you felt so blue. Not even the air conditioning of Steve's BMW could prevent the sweat that beaded on your forehead; a mixture of anxiety and the abnormally warm summer. The car was silent in anticipation, thick with the looming sense of how real the situation you'd gotten yourself in was about to become. You stare at the backs of your moral supporters' heads. Gran staring wistfully at the blur of orange, blue and green outside. Steve's gaze fixated on the road as his knuckles whitened with his grip on the wheel. The blaring WHAM! tape a stark contrast to the somber mood. 

Steve's hand gripped yours in support as you reclined on the bed in anticipation for the nurse. Gran's firm on your shoulder. The two people who you knew were going to keep you grounded until this blip in your life was over. The nervous energy was interrupted by the chirping of the nurse. 

'Hi, Miss Y/L/N?' you nod, 'good morning! How we feeling today? Excited? Nervous?' 

You could tell she was good at her job, had mastered the art of talking to ease people. 

'How about you, Mom or I guess Grandma now? And Dad to be?' 

Gran winces. Steve's breath hitches. Oh crap, you think, I'm about to foil up this poor woman's routine. One top of that, the message that no one was going to become anything other than what they already were, clearly hadn't been passed on. The three of you look between each other grimacing. Your voice croaks nervously. 

'Oh urm, this is actually my Gran... and he's not the father...'

Steve gives an awkwardly cheerful salute 'Just a good friend.'

The nurse clearly looks as if she's about to say something nice but you have one final blow. 

'And, urm...' you squirm on the squeaking bed, 'I'm not keeping it. The baby - sorry. They're getting adopted.' 

For the first time, her kind smile falters as she flusters on her word. 

'Oh - oh god. I'm so sorry! There's usually a note and - oh, my apologies... well... shall we make sure they're all okay in there?'

You nod, making sure to put on a big smile to ease the nurse so she can get back into her rhythm. Carefully you roll your top up to reveal your belly... or lack there of. 

'I... don't really have a bump? Is that normal? Are they okay?' 

The nurse is quick to reassure, 'Don't worry! Bump size is different for everyone. Nothing to worry about but we'll double check, alright?'

Both Gran and Steve offer another soothing squeeze. Brandishing the gel, you’re given a warning.

‘Okay, hon, now this will be cold. You ready?’

You nod but the response is quickly cut off as the thick gel hits your stomach like ice sludge. An involuntary squeal escapes. Steve let’s out a snigger at your response and is met by glares from every woman in the room.

‘It’s not that bad, surely?’ He attempts to crack. 

The unamused look on your face should’ve warned him not to push it. Quickly, your free hand swipes up a glob of the gel and slathers it on Steve’s exposed forearm. The squeak that escapes him is far more girlish than you ever could’ve produced. You smirk at his frown. How was this the response from a man who has been mauled by inter-dimensional creatures? Gran and the nurse cackle as he untwines his fingers from yours to rub at the frozen patch of skin.

‘Ok… point proven,’ he sulks. 

After reapplying the gel, you all watch with bated breath as the scanner makes contact with your stomach. The smooth surface glides over the skin, searching. No one in the room dares to exhale. Now, your mind races with potential problems. You feel foolish for not being more concerned about the lack of bump. Despite everything, despite the colossal detour this baby has taken your life on, you want it to be there. You want it to be okay. 

The sonogram screen looks nothing but like static to you. Jarring flickers of black and white. Nothing your eyes can recognise as a life form. It's all silent. 

Then finally, a soft pulsing begins to echo out of the tinny speakers. The two hands digging into your skin finally relax a little. 

'There we go,' the nurse beams, 'looks like we have a little burrower on our hands.' 

The image stills and she pauses over the right spot. It's not exactly a breathtaking picture of what grows inside you. The edges are fuzzy, it's abstract. Like an impressionist painting of life. 

'C-could you point it out... I'm not sure where they are on screen,' your voice is laced with embarrassment. As if not being able to instantly recognise the baby made you a bad mother. But I'm not a mother, I'm not going to be you have to remind yourself. 

A blue gloved finger outlines a section on screen. 

'Oh,' you gasp. It's so obvious now she shows you. 'A little banana.' The internal musing manages to pass your lips and three sets of eyes look at you confused. 

'That's what the book said,' you stutter, 'by twenty weeks they'd be the size of a banana...' 

The nurse chuckles along with Gran as Steve remains fascinated by the little wiggling form on screen. 

'Yeah, that's about right,' the nurse adds, 'although I would say this is quite a little banana, but...'

She scans back over again to be sure, 'a very healthy little one!'

Gran leans presses a kiss to the side of your head. 

'I knew it, it's all okay in there. You've done good,' as it did when you were small, her voice still soothes you like nothing else. 

The question you've been dreading finally comes. 

'So, Y/N, would you like to know the baby's gender?' The nurse smiles. Before you can stop yourself and compose a more succinct answer you blurt out,

'No!' 

You're met back with surprised and alarmed blinking eyes. The nurse, Steve and Gran looking between each other to work out what just happened. 

'The adoption agency don't require it. Just as long as they're healthy. That's all, that's fine,' you attempt to reason. Gran tucks a finger under your chin, her sharp eyes analysing your own. 

'Are you sure you don't want to know darling?' She drawls out the 'sure' for emphasis. 

'I'm sure. We're done.' 

In the car home you feel embarrassed by your sharpness over the gender. Again you travel in awkward silence. One of the more exciting parts of pregnancy for most, just an uncomfortable experience for you. The open window causes the printed sonogram picture to flutter between your fingers. The motion causing the black and white haze to dance around like it had on screen. As if your banana size baby was hopping around. You wonder if they will start to bop around inside you, the nurse said they should start to move anytime now. Will they stay a little burrower or would they become a relentless little wriggler? Eddie's baby would definitely be a wriggler. You pinch your thigh for that thought. Thoughts like that now intrude daily, as if your own mind is trying to torture you. It's why you didn't want to know the gender.

The last thing you needed was another sliver of information that could paint a fantasy for you. Your imagination would only take the gender and run with it. It would allow you to truly picture the baby. What they'd look like, who they'd be or all the things they could've been had they been Eddie's. It feels cruel to say and it's why you didn't explain in the hospital room, but you don't want to humanise the baby. The more you pretend this is nothing more than a project or a transaction, the easier this will be. Already your heart hurts too much. 

Over at The Hideout, Eddie squints in concentration, pushing escaping strands of hair out of his face. Sweat drips down his neck, skin exposed due to the ponytail. The stage lights are hot on him as he toys with the wiring for the amps and speaker system.  All day he's spent setting the place up for a big gig. A few repeat guests supporting a once regular band that had gathered a lot of heat. Setting this night up made Eddie, for the first time, feel important and valued. A sensation that sent electric bolts through his body and not in the same way as earlier when an old wire sparked.

For a rundown bar in a dead end town, The Hideout had garnered a cult venue status for metal and rock bands dotted between Hawkins and Indianapolis. The headliners Kraven were familiar to Eddie, having played a few of the same shows as Corroded Coffin. More rock than metal but still good, very good. They had garnered a big hype, getting shows at real venues in the city and those getting rave reviews in magazines and the paper. Eddie had been pretty surprised they'd been down to come back to The Hideout for the end of summer event he'd organised. Carl had been impressed with his ability with the bar, quick to let Eddie become his right hand man. The ultimate approval was now getting granted permission to throw his very own event. 

'Shit, bro. You fuckin set all this shit up already?' Taylor, the lead of Kraven appeared beside Eddie. Tanned skin littered with tattoos and messy waved bleach white hair; the perfect image of a rockstar. 

'Um yeah, pretty much. It was no problem...' Eddie shrugs. 

'Wicked, thanks dude. So, you still playin yourself?' Taylor asks casually as he strolls over to his guitar. Fingers artfully tuning it. 

'No, not really. Band kinda broke up. They're all off to college and shit.' 

Eddie feels a little embarrassed under Taylor's confident gaze. Embarrassed to admit his band had fallen apart to someone whose was thriving. 

'Damn fuckin shame!' Taylor bellows into the microphone. His impressive voice echoing through the empty venue. 'You guys were pretty sick, y'know? Especially you bro. Fucking shredder!'

For a different reason now, Eddie blushes with embarrassment. But this time because someone like Taylor thinks he's talented. Thinks he hadn't just wasted his time with music. 

'Oh, shit, well... thanks! Means a lo-'

'Wanna play with us tonight?' Taylor casually asks like it's nothing. He must notice the bafflement in Eddie's face so he continues. 

'We're a man down. Lead guitarist ain't here. Was gonna just cover myself but... dunno, think it would pretty hardcore if you filled in?' 

Eddie feels his jaw drop; now he's really flattered. The thought is nerve wracking but god, did he miss performing. 

'Fuck... are you sure? I mean I don't even know your stuff?'

Taylor scoffs, 'Fuck yeah. Look you'd be doing us a favour and you're good, you'll pick it up easy over practice.'

The electricity running through Eddie increases tenfold. Who is he to refuse a guy as cool as Taylor? Plus, a desperate part in the back of his mind whispers a fantasy of you swooning seeing him on stage again for the first time in years. 

As the stage lights came on, Eddie desperately resisted the temptation to rub his eyes; now lined in perfectly smudged black kohl. The Kraven look was a little different to Corroded Coffin's, more Studio 54 than biker bar. The rest of the band all exposed glittering skin, tight leather and mesh. After rehearsals, Eddie had gone back to the house to rummage for anything that fit the brief. His chosen look of skin tight shredded black jeans, home cut vest and leather jacket was met with approval. 

'Let me just add the finishing touches,' the drummer's girlfriend had said. 

She sat Eddie down, hovering over his lap as she artfully smudged the liner. Her eyes fixated on his own whilst smearing a layer of glitter over it. The intimacy of his pre-show rehearsal caused his imagination to picture you instead. When he closed his eyes it was you straddling his lap, soft fingertips sweeping on his eyelids and wishing him words of encouragement. Just as he had in the dressing room, Eddie stood on stage wondering what you'd think. Would you like this new look? Would you find it hot? He knows you like Bowie. Then there were other concerns, you hadn't seen him play since you'd left for New York. He's pretty sure he became a much better musician since then. Losing himself in Corroded Coffin in a desperate attempt to fill the void you left. Eddie prays you like this. Prays you enjoy watching him perform. 

The spiralling thoughts are knocked out of Eddie as Taylor strums the first note on his guitar and the performance begins. 

When the stage lights illuminate the figures on stage, you cough up your swig of cranberry juice. There is one guitarist up there who you definitely recognise. You'd arrived with the gang earlier, excited for the evening Eddie had worked hard organising. He'd miraculously left out the part where he would be performing himself. Steve pats your back from your choking whilst the rest of the group gawp. 

'What the fuck?!' Robin shouts, 'is that Eddie?'

You nod feebly, still speechless. This band looked like a real band, Eddie looked like a star. Even from where you all huddled in your usual booth you could see him oozing effortless swagger. 

'Did you know he was playing tonight?' Nancy asks in bafflement. 

'No,' you reply meekly, 'not a clue...'

You hadn't seen Eddie play since you left for college. It appeared in the meantime he'd gotten even better. Argyle was up and rallying you all. 

'Dudes, this is fuckin sweet! Come on we gotta go up there!' 

Everyone was quick to file out the booth, weaving into the crowd to get closer to the stage. As if Eddie's guitar was a siren's call, you found yourself following them until a tug at your sleeve pulls you back. 

Steve frowns, 'what are you doing? Are you sure that's safe?'

'I don't want to miss it! It'll look weird if I'm not there as well,' you're sure your voice whines like a teenager. 

'Yeah but...' Steve's eyes full of worry flicker down to your stomach. 

'It'll be okay, you'll stay with me right?' A dramatic sigh signals you've won the argument. 

'Yes, fine, of course I will.'

Steve firmly grips your hand, shielding you as he pushes through the crowd until he finds the others. 

Only a few rows back from the stage, you now see Eddie fully. 

Framing his dark chocolate eyes are smudges of eyeliner and glitter that reflects the colourful lights. The make up makes his eyes even more intense. The two orbs seem to find you in the crowd and light up. Their magnetism making you feel like you're the only one in the room. His ringed fingers move faster and in more intricate ways than you've ever seen him do before. Fuck, Eddie was always a talented musician but he'd improved tenfold in the last two years. Not just him, however, the whole band look professional. All the members in perfect harmony. The songs not just covers or tunes thrown together in a garage, they're hits. You have no idea how Eddie has ended up a part of them, whoever they are but they're electrifying.  

It's not just you who thinks so. The whole crowd moves like a wave, losing themselves in the music. In the corner of your eye you see Robin, Jonathan and Argyle's hair whipping round wildly. The sheer energy in the room makes the air thick and sticky. You can't help the way your eyes fixate on the beads of sweat trickling down Eddie's thick neck, over his collar bone, past his pecks and disappearing under his vest. This was torturous. As the band stop whilst the lead singer talks, you watch as Eddie removes his leather jacket. Strong but lean arms revealed. 

When the band start back up a gasp sticks in your throat as he begins a solo. Damp curls falling as he concentrates on the notes he plays. Veins flexing under the taught porcelain skin of his arms. Like the rest of the crowd you scream. A family of bats dancing. You're unable to ignore the volume of female voices joining in on the cheering. Your blood boils with envy that others should be looking at your Eddie and thinking thoughts that slip out when you're alone in bed. You can't believe he's real. Yet, he is and painfully, he isn't yours. There's a room full of women here who he could go home with. Who aren't his best friend. Who aren't pregnant. 

When they finally finish and file off the stage, Eddie's heart is still going like a jackhammer. Adrenaline from performing still coursing through his veins. Holy fuck he'd missed this. The other factor causing his pulse to race is raw jealousy. The entire show his eyes burnt at the spot where Steve's arm was wrapped tight around you. Large hand possessively gripping your shoulder, tucking you in beside him. That is not right, Eddie fumes, Steve isn't your protector or comfort, that's his role. 

Congratulatory claps on his back shake Eddie out of his sulk. The guys from Kraven flocking round him. 

'Eddie, bro that was fucking hardcore!'

'You're a lifesaver, dude, honestly!'

'You were on fire out there, my man!'

Eddie's cheeks flush with the praise from people he can't believe like him - think that he is talented. 

'Oh, urm, thank you!' He stutters, 'thanks for letting me play! Look, I'm just gonna to see my friends, caught them in the crowd. I'll see you in a minute?' 

The guys nod. 

'No worries, bro. Just come back to the dressing room when you're done!' Taylor shouts after him as Eddie throws a thumbs up. Quick to run back into the bar and find you. 

It takes Eddie a matter of seconds to spot you in the crowd. He's certain even if this were Madison Square Garden and he was blindfolded, he'd find you. 

'Sweetheart!' He bellows over the chattering crowds and pulsing speakers. 

Instantly your head whips round to see him, stood there in all his sweat covered glory. You're quick to slip out of Steve's arms and run into Eddie's. 

'Ah I'm sweaty I don't wanna get you-' his protests are cut off as you slam into him. Oblivious and uncaring of his damp skin, you wrap your arms around his neck. Instinctively your fingers finding the damp curls at the back of his neck. He indulges and wraps his own tightly round your waist. 

'Teddy, you were so fucking amazing,' you pull back so you can swat at his exposed chest from the sagging vest. 'Why didn't you tell me you were playing!'

Eddie chuckles at your childish frown and pout. His now calloused finger reaches to smooth down the line in your furrowed brow. 

'Wasn't planned, sweets. They were a man down so I guess surprise...'

You let your fingers linger on his chest. Running your tips round over the hot smooth skin, a move that feels too intimate but you can't resist. It takes all of Eddie's strength not to groan at the feeling. He wonders if you feel how hard his heart beats under your touch. Wonders if you realise you're the cause. 

'You were amazing. I mean, you always were but... now. That was something else! How could you keep that from me!'

His cheeks flush at your compliments. They feel so much more meaningful leaving your lips. 

'You really think so?' He mumbles, 'guess I had a lot of time on my hands without you...'

The words pierce your heart. You knew the feeling, days became endless without Eddie. You didn't realise he'd felt the same through those two years. Pulling him back into a hug, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. It smells like sweat, smoke and his aftershave but it's all Eddie. It's home. 

'I'm sorry,' you whisper. Your lips move against his skin and he lets himself pretend it's almost a kiss. He closes his eyes in bliss having you close like this. One arm pulling you tight against him, fingers trailing up your spine. The other wrapped round your shoulder, his tired hands running through your soft locks. Eddie sees how far he can push his luck as he presses his lips and nose to the crown of your head. Inhaling your smell whilst lightly pressing a kiss. 

Back in the dressing room, Eddie is surprised to find the band gathered as if they're holding a meeting. A bizarre contrast to see such animated people wear such serious expressions. 

'Eddie, hey! Come sit,' Taylor waves him over, pointing to a chair.  

He sits down and looks around at the other guys awkwardly. All their eyes on him. It feels like a very strange AA meeting. 

'So... you guys good? Happy with the show?' He asks to try and break the tension. 

Keith the drummer chirps up. 

'Yeah bro, we're good, real good. The show was sick. That's what we wanted to talk about actually...'

Keith nods to Taylor as if to signal for him to go on. 

'Look, Eddie, I'll be real with you. Kraven, we're doing well. It's not been announced yet but... we're signed. We've been working on a debut album for a few months...'

Eddie's eyes widen. It does make sense, he wonders why they hadn't said though. 

'Shit, guys, that's awesome. Well done-'

Taylor cuts Eddie off. 

'That's not all... we may have come with ulterior motives. Our lead guitarist, tonight wasn't just a one off. He quit...'

Eddie's mouth forms a little 'O'. 

'He decided going pro, it wasn't for him. It's cool. So we've been looking for a new lead. Then you called offering the gig and it was like, fuckin' serendipity. We all remembered how hardcore you were with your band.'

The rest of the band nod whilst Eddie's brain feels like it's about to malfunction. 

'W-what are you guys saying?' He stumbles out. 

'Well... we knew you were talented. Then tonight just proved our theory correct. Eddie, bro... we want you to join the band.'

For the first time in his life, Eddie Munson might be speechless. The silence is filled then by Spike their bass player. 

'I know this sounds fuckin batshit brother but we were so good out there, together. You're better than this place, too talented to just be managing a bar in a random ass town. You could be doing the real thing with us, man. We've been out in Cali recording...'

Eddie scans the room, at the pleading faces before him. This feels like a dream. This can't be happening, shit like this is from movies, they don't happen to Eddie the freak Munson. And California? That's like a million miles away. He's barely left the state. It's a million miles away from you. From that New York plan he'd wishfully proposed. But then, what else does he really have? He can't just tag along on your life forever. Taylor coughs, interrupting his freak out. 

'So, what do you say, dude... wanna be Kraven's lead guitar?'

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

[shadowqueenjude]

Lucien finally loses his shit part 7

Lucien finds himself in a duel to the death with the male who dared to hurt his mate! Lucien knew it was only a matter of time before Azriel had him in a vulnerable position again. Still, he fought, tooth and nail, deciding if he was going to die, he was going to flip death off all the way to the end.

All of a sudden, the shadowsinger disappeared. Lucien whipped his head around, searching for him when all of a sudden, he appeared behind him. Lucien stumbled back, raising his sword to try to deflect the blow as Azriel’s knife arced towards his heart. Lucien tensed up, expecting a blow which never came.

As Azriel fell face first to the ground, Lucien stared at the arrow protruding from the center of his back.

He looked up, following the trajectory of the arrow to find Elain standing several paces away, bow in hand, looking every bit like a mighty immortal huntress. Her eyes were as fierce as Lucien had ever seen them. By the Cauldron, she was beautiful. His mate.

Lucien stared down at Azriel. He should end it. Slit his throat. But he hesitated.

His mate cared for him. Besides, he was a downed male. Smart as it would be to eliminate him, Lucien couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“The next time you come after me, I’ll kill you,” Lucien hissed. He stalked over to Elain, who handed him a bottle of some sparkly purple liquid. Lucien narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not poison,” Elain quipped, and Lucien smiled slightly. “Looks like it. What the hell is this?”

Elain only stared at him with clear, piercing eyes. “Do you trust me?”

I barely know you, he wanted to cry out. But he found himself saying, “Yes. Yes, I trust you.”

“Then drink,” she said, and tipped the glass into his mouth. He obeyed, swallowing large gulps at a time. It tasted like cinnamon and vanilla and banana and something else he couldn’t quite place. “It should help you restore your magic faster?”

“And how exactly,” Lucien said between swallows, “do you know that?”

Elain smiled slightly. “Cooking is an art. You’d be surprised how many magical recipes there are in those cookbooks.”

Lucien grinned. “Smart girl.”

Elain’s smile went a little wider at that. Lucien soon found she was right. Within a few minutes, he found much of his strength returning. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

Elain’s smile faded. “Why should I go with you?”

“Please,” Lucien begged. He’d get on his knees if he had to. “I’m not asking you to be with me. I just need to get you out of here. Someplace safe. Your sisters will be there too. Don’t you trust me?” he said softly. Tentatively.

He waited for the no that was surely coming, but she merely said, “Yes. Yes, I do.” Relief flooded through him at her words. “Then come with me.” He offered a hand. Elain took it with little hesitation. Her hand was so small in his. And so soft. Like a dove’s. He tried to ignore how perfectly their hands fit together, how beautiful her hair was flowing in the wind, her bright eyes as brown as a faun’s coat. He closed his eyes and winnowed.

When he opened his eyes, Graysen’s mansion was before them. There was no sign of the man, however, much to Lucien’s relief. He did not want Elain running into her foul former fiancé.

When Lucien arrived with Elain in tow, Feyre and Nesta instantly came running. Elain didn’t let go of Lucien’s hand until Feyre grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. Nesta hugged her equally fiercely. Then all three sisters gave him a big hug which left him blushing and a little bit tongue-tied.

All three sisters continued to fuss over him as they walked inside Graysen’s mansion, but all thoughts emptied out of Lucien’s head at the look on Jurian’s face.

“What is it?” Lucien demanded. Jurian was pale and sweaty, his anxiety most unlike him. He turned to Lucien at his words. His mouth was drawn in a thin line. “It’s Vassa. She’s gone.”

No. “What do you mean, gone?”

“She was taken back. By Koschei. I don’t know what happened to the deal their father struck, but he took her back.” Jurian’s voice was filled with pain for his best friend and lover.

No. “When did this happen?”

“Last night,” Jurian choked. He wiped his face, trying to hide his tears. “She left a note.” He tossed it to Lucien.

No no no no.

Shit.

He could’ve sworn he heard the Mother speak in his mind once more. Your woes are just beginning, son of Helion.