#fuck the side pages they're just not happening right now and

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

✧✦✧ Chapter 2 ✧✦✧

A New Reset, An Old Story

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: low qual English + corny/cringey usage of it, lots of cursing, emotional stuff, weird hallucinations, and bad editing I guess? was someone there before? Can someone pick me up? MC is being weird.

Note: a bit longer part this time

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 1 , 3 ...➣

NOW PLAYING ↻◁ ||▷↺ Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole lıılıılılılıılıılı

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How do you act when you feel like your day keeps repeating?.

Would you be content? to just go with the flow? to memorize each of your steps, actions or words?.

Or, would you go crazy? lose your mind and sanity? to see red dancing on the edge of your eyes if you keep remembering the shit that keeps happening to you?.

I would, especially if you went through what I did, all effort I did just gone with one bullet from a gun, from a high fall, a kidnapping gone wrong, get killed by a villian, a sword, a freak accident or maybe just one very very bad day.

Gripping my seatbelt I wait for Commissioner Gordon to open the car's door and let me out, stepping out of the police car with it's siren and lights off, I stand on the graveled road that leads to the stone steps of the old and dark mansion I knew too well.

A little scribbles pops in my vision roughly drawings and crossings on the mansion as if it's giving it an evil and snarling look of a giant man eating beast.

The older man gently stir me up to the porch and I watch as he ring the doorbell - The tiny mean words and drawings floating around the door flew away from the sound - on the side of the giant doors as we wait for anyone to answer.

Tensing when I heard someone's familiar shoes thudding on the otherside of the closed entrance, I step back as I grabbed Gordon's coat and braced myself to put up a new face again.

'By now Alfred should open the doors and be surprised to meet us'. a little tiny voice said by my ear as they hide behind my back- peeking over my shoulder as if they were scared even though they're not the one confronting them anyway.

As soon as they're guess was right, I observe the old event unfolding in front of me seeing Gordon hand Alfred a manila folder and show him what I knew was my DNA test, citizen papers and profile inside.

I stare blankly at Alfred who looked at me with slight pity and worry after he heard that Gordon personally escorted me here because I was supposed to be relocated to my biological father custody more than a few months ago.

'Would have prefer to stay there as well but the broody asshole insisted on one of the last resets and got my hopes up just to go back to becoming #1 fucked up dad on my list'

'Yeah! he's such an asshole!' The voice pipe up with a snort and a laugh while leaning on my shoulder.

I turn back to Commissioner Gordon one last time as he drove off as I sadly wave goodbye from the door before side eyeing the butler who was already watching me.

"Would you like some tea young master?". He kneels down and hold out a hand to me.

I stare at his face as I see glimpse of scratches around the air and scribbles on his face - crude lines to circle around his only slightly older look - a wobbly arrow to point at the small cracks of wrinkles on the edge of his eyes and a small older doodle of him from my old memories comparing his age before a glitch switching between a golden halo to devil horns floated above his head.

Blinking two times suddenly everything turned back to normal as I look at him again properly and I study his white gloved hand before grabbing it in a practiced motion as I keep on with the old scrip that I memorize long ago.

Walking close to him I follow as we pass long dark hallways that was only illuminated the flashing of lightning during the current storm and a few dark oakwood doors each one seemed taller and more menacing than the last as we entered a fairly large kitchen that I grew to love and spent most of my time in before.

He led me to an kitchen island with a marbled top so shiny I can see my face's reflection clearly along with a few stool chair with actual leather covers and I carefully climb before proceeding to watch him prepare me a tea and some of his prized cookies.

While waiting I got lost in my thoughts as I re-assess on what to do in this reset.

'What do I do now? does it even matter?'

'Do we even matter?' the small voice questioned in my ear.

I remember the times I try to use the past knowledge I have to get closer to them but........

'nothing really works for us anyway' again they reply with a murmur and lean on my shoulder.

No matter how hard I try, everything I sacrificed, anything I do nothing happens, sure there were some................. progress but I always get cut off by another death.

'We're just born to do this shit all over again' they spit out now with anger in their voice while I hear their teeth grinding together and their sharp nails digging on my skin.

If nothing else works then.......

Looking down at my bandage hand filled with little doodles from the other children in the orphanage and some cute yet old sticky cartoon bandaids, I relaxed my small hands on the flat marbled surface and breathe out.

I got nothing to lose, 2790 resets made me understand how dumb and starved I am for attention and love.

'So hungry and leaving us Starving-!' They groan and wail in pain before vanishing away.

Snapping my head up I see Alfred gently pushing a nice steaming cup of tea in front of me as well as some cookies on a plate.

I slowly reach out and take the cup before blowing on the warm tea then taking a tiny sip and relish the hidden memories that this tea have brought me.

As I stare at my reflection I see it ripples as my hands shake and my body soon followed as I sniffled and hiccup, Alfred the ever gentleman that he is carefully took a hold of the tea cup as I cry finally cry out.

I cry till my eyes are puffy, I cry as let all the pain I have endured for so long, I cry out and childishly try to wipe off my snot as I asked for my mother to come back.

I cry because

I can.

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After finishing my tea and the cookies Alfred asked me if I wanted to wait for 'my father' before I go to my 'new' bedroom.

I see them in the corner as the shadows collects on that side and rise up to reach the ceiling 'They' shook their head and blared a large rough 'X' in the air then disappear with a flash of lighting coming through from the large windows.

"No,...... it's fine maybe tomorrow". I said looking down before turning up to Alfred and set my plan in motion.

"Mr. Alfred?". I asked as I gently tugged on his slacks making him look down to me.

"Yes young master?". He angles down to me as he put away the dried dishes.

I see 'their' wide and sharky smile behind Alfred's shoulder before popping back down his back.

"Can I stay with you?". I asked tightening my hold on him.

'From now on, nothing else matters except you.........If we can't get a family out of this shitty one then We'll make a new one' They murmur down while twirling a small baby hair on my nape.

But first-

We'll have to prepare for a little reunion.

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U I A U I A A U U I I A

Taglist later because I'm now entertaining food coma bleh *dies*

[andhumanslovedstories]

There's so many horrible things happening in America right now that it has been interesting to see what individual horrors hurt me personally the most. I grew up going to the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts. Musicals, plays, concerts, that weird bust of JFK, playing around on terrace during intermissions, putting on a velvet dress that you're going to ruin dropping a milk dud in your lap and not noticing until it's fully melted, wearing the pinchy shiny shoes that are the training bras of women's formal footwear, operas I didn't like but did love, jazz I didn't understand but still fascinated me, red carpet, big stairs, the absolute nightmare amount of experiences I had as a new driver as I repeatedly got trapped in the Kennedy Center's fucking private DC island or whatever the hell is going on traffic-wise, free performances on small side stages, getting to see an enormous production on the Center's most enormous stage, all of which was accessed by walking through that a long, tall hallway lined with flags of the world that made you feel like a dignitary attending the most important even in the world.

And now Trump's taken it over. He fired its board. He appointed one of his loyalists to run it. I want to throw up.

Sometimes I miss DC so much. I love the Pacific Northwest and expect I'll live here for the rest of my life, but this isn't my hometown. I grew up the edge of the District. I've lost cumulative years of my life stuck in traffic on the inner loop and outer loop. Because of the Smithsonian, it used to be so baffling to me that anyone ever had to pay to get into a museum. I've used the Washington DC zoo as a shortcut to a different part of the city because it's free to enter. You couldn't count the amount of knockoff Spider-man popsicles that I've eaten sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. My reading tastes were molded by Kramer Books in Dupont Circle. I spent afternoons walking around the National Mall, normally just a big empty field until there's an event--book fair, country music program, international cuisine, whatever--at which point for a day or a weekend or a week it becomes a sea of tents and stages. I went to protests outside the Capital and the White House about the war in Iraq. I froze my toes off watching Obama's 2008 presidential inauguration.

It seemed like everyone's family touched the federal government in some way. Everyone's family had moved here because they were military or state department or a political consultant or worked with an NGO or some other reason that meant you had to be here, in the nation's capital. Plenty of people had connections to the federal government that we more hush-hush. Like kids in class straight up going, "I have no idea what my parents do for a living. They're not allowed to tell me." High schoolers regularly, accidentally drove into the CIA parking lot and got escorted out because the premises were that accessible. My family moved here because my dad is a reporter who ended up covering international trade. (Imagine how much his job sucks right now.) He switched beats one summer to cover the White House instead. He got to fly on Air Force One. He got official Air Force One M&Ms. I was SO disappointment my dad didn't work there for Bush to call on him by nickname.

Every day my family got The Washington Post. I read the comics and the kid's page, then the rest of the Style section, then Metro, then news. I learned to read from it. We wrapped our delicate Christmas ornaments with its pages. We used yesterday's papers to clean our windows because they didn't leave streaks. I took journalism in high school. You can't IMAGINE how much and how frequently we talked about Watergate. When Post changed its motto to "Democracy Dies in Darkness" after Trump's election in 2016 that meant something to me. I knew Bezos owned the paper now, but that was still my paper, and the motto spoke to something I fervently believed: if people just knew what was happening, they wouldn't allow it to happen. If you expose a problem, people will naturally agree that it is a problem and that we should do something to fix it. Flash forward to Trump's third fucking campaign, and the newspaper wouldn't endorse a presidential candidate. Chickenshit cowardice. Then they change the motto. "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." Eat shit. You're nothing now.

Politics in America is just telling everyone how much you hate Washington, DC so that they'll elect you so you can move to DC. Well, guys, the city fucking hates you too. Republicans will never give the District actually meaningful political representation because no one in that city would vote for them. It's not just the policies; it's the contempt. No one in the new administration loves the city they schemed and lied and stooped to take over. It's just iconography to them, and all they care about is taking that iconography for themselves. Trump doesn't give a shit about the summer program for the Kennedy Center. He has never seen a show at the Kennedy Center. When he was president, he never attended the annual awards. He's trying to destroy one of the most significant places of my life and I'm genuinely unsure if he has ever stepped for inside of it.

[rosedpetal]

Let's Try Something New

Summary: Outraged by the horrible smut you were reading, Robert shows you how BDSM really is.

Pairing: Robert Chase x Wife!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, light bdsm (sorry if it's inaccurate, I'm just a vanilla girl)

Masterlist

You loved him with all your heart.

Not only that, he was a dream come true. Tall, handsome, blonde, broad and with a heart of gold. If Robert was a dog, he'd be a damn golden retriever. With his innocent blue eyes and easy smiles and suffocating affection.

To his friends and colleagues, your husband was the personification of a boy-next-door type, now turned a man with a license to practice medicine. Everything that was probably expected from him when he was young.

He was raised as a Catholic, for fucks sake, even taking the lengths of beginning his studies at seminary school when he was sixteen. Everything in him screamed safe.

You thought it was ironic.

Robert wasn't one to criticize your choice of entertainment, and he secretly knew you've read a lot of smutty books and fanfics on Tumblr. Apparently it was a popular thing amongst women. He's heard nurses talking (and they talked too damn much).

It happened while you were showering, washing your hair throughly, blissful unaware of the fact that Robert saw your book unattended in the coffee table and his curiosity took the best of him. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

He flicked through the pages, snorting at how inaccurate and unrealistically these scenes were written. Not only he knew the anatomy and biology like a pro (he was a doctor!) but he used to practice the very same stuff that was so poorly written in your pretentious little book.

It was all so-wrong.

He was so immersed in the horrors he was reading that he didn't notice you walking to the kitchen with a towel in your head and wearing your pajamas, ready to cook dinner. You thought it was weird, usually, he'd acknowledge you first thing. When you turned to look at him, you finally realized, in absolute horror, that he was reading the book you bought on Amazon days ago.

"Rob!" You let out a sound that resembled a squeal. "What are you doing?"

He looked up at you, trying to fight his smirk.

"Is this the kind of educational literature you buy with my hard earned money?"

Your face flushed with embarassment.

"Hey! I bought this with my money! And that's besides the point, I told you before to not snoop on my stuff."

"Because you're embarrassed of it?

"I-" You stopped yourself, feeling your cheeks redden even more.

"I'm not mad that you're reading erotica. But babe, this is so poorly written. I'm actually disappointed." He put the book back on the coffee table, crossing his arms and looking at you. "It's all a load of bull-"

"Because it's kinky? Because it's BDSM?" You knew you were being defensive, but you couldn't help it.

"No. Because this stuff is not BDSM. This author has no idea what they're talking about and is trying to use the practice of BDSM to write their rapey scenes."

You tilted your head to the side. "Are you an expert on BDSM now?" Your eyes widened as you saw your very innocent husband's expression change to slight amused. Oh my-

"I've practiced it, years ago."

You couldn't believe it.

And he kept on rambling: "Well, first of all, BDSM is not something used to subdue women. Or to force kinky practices or shit like that. I mean, where's the fucking safe word here?"

"I'm sorry, when did your BDSM practice happen? Between leaving seminary and going to med school or..?" You couldn't help the question.

He scoffed at your little jab.

"Just let me know if you wanna see for yourself what the real thing is."

That had you speechless.

He was groping you aggressively, your little movie night turned into a heavy making out session the minute the credits started rolling in the screen. You whined, your breathing mixed, your cotton clothed core rubbing shamelessly against the tent in his sweatpants.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he quickly rolled you, your back pressing on the couch as he towered over you.

He kissed down your neck, lips trailing butterfly kisses on your feverish skin.

"I wanna try."

He froze. "Try what?"

You rolled your eyes. "You know what. BDSM. Now."

He sighed, pulling back and sitting on the couch. "Babe, it doesn't work this way."

"Come again?"

"Honey, we have to talk about this first. Do you know what BDSM stands for? What are your limits? We have to establish a safe word, or if we'll use the color system..."

You sit up, trying not to sound frustrated. "Okay, Mr. expert in BDSM. Just tell me you think I'm too vanilla to handle it."

Robert rolled his eyes. "There's nothing wrong with being vanilla."

"I can be kinky!"

"Do you want this to prove a point or are you really interested?"

"I'm interested. I wanna know if my smutty books are really that shitty."

He snorted at that, brushing a strand of hair off your face. "You're okay with being tied up?"

"Yes."

"And blindfolded?"

"Yes."

"Can you choose a safeword for me?"

"Cookie?"

"Oh, I'd love one."

"Robert!"

"Sorry, baby... Okay, let's take this to the bedroom, okay?"

He followed you inside your shared bedroom, rummaging through a drawer on his nightstand and grabbing a medium box.

You probably looked funny, sitting in bed, half naked and politely waiting for Robert to get whatever he had planned for you. He grabbed a pair of handcuffs and in a very serious tone, said:

"Lay down and put your wrists above your head."

You obeyed, feeling the cold metal close around your wrists, safely tied around the headboard. You couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle.

"Don't go Gerald's Game on me, please."

Robert's eyes lit up a little. You were so cute. He wanted to ruin you.

"Take your mind off everything else, and close your eyes for me, beautiful."

Unconsciously, you rubbed your thighs together. That voice and that accent? Should be illegal. The way he called you beautiful as he put a blindfold on you? Completely evil.

Robert hummed to himself as he dimmed the lights of the room and turned up the thermostat. He walked back to you, sitting down next to you, slowly trailing his fingertips on your body. You actually shivered, despite the room temperature.

He kissed down your body. Your neck, collarbones, your bare chest, your navel... Just as he was about to reach your panties, he kissed the way up again, wrapping an arm around you and lifting your torso slightly to kiss you.

It was surprisingly gentle, but still breathtaking, nonetheless. His lips slowly moved against yours, his tongue slowly making its way between your lips, and you let out a little whimper while he kissed you. He pulled back, his warm breath on you as his thumb brushed your swollen lips.

Then, the dance of kissing your body returned. This time, he gently bit on your nipple, giving your breast a small squeeze, lowering his mouth and licking your clothed core. It was embarrassing how soaked through you were, your panties ruined as he hooked his finger on the elastic and pushed the fabric to the side, his tongue finally making contact with your poor pussy.

"Open your mouth for me." He demanded in a rough tone and as soon as you obeyed, he stick two fingers inside your mouth. You moisted them with your saliva, and he retreated them, only to gently push them inside of you moments later.

Your chest was heaving as he kissed and sucked on your clit, rolling his tongue, curling his fingers inside you, the wet sounds music to his ears.

"Ow!" You gasped in surprise when he slapped your clit.

"Color?"

"Green..."

"Are you sure?"

"I was just surprised, okay? Green."

He chuckled as he could hear the pout in your voice, giving you another open finger slap on your swollen clit, his other hand scissoring you, making you arch your back.

Just as you were about to orgasm, he stopped.

"Wha-Why would you do that?" You asked, in an indignant tone.

"You didn't ask for permission, princess."

"Can I please, come?"

"You have to learn how to address me, too." Robert hummed, getting off the bed and taking off his pants, stroking himself. "Can you do that for me, honey? How do you call me when you're at my mercy like a whore?"

God, you knew you were gonna lose your goddamn mind.

"Hmmm, Sir?"

"That'll do for now." He says, towering over you, spreading your legs, making your stomach tighten with anticipation.

He aligned his tip in your wet entrance, his breath becoming irregular. Slowly, he rolled his hips, hands on your waist as he fucked you. The bed creaked slightly under your bodies, and he hiked your leg up, kissing your calf, never stopping.

"You always feel so good." He admits in a gruff tone, holding your leg against his chest as you desperately tried not to scream. "I can never get enough of you, baby girl."

"Sir, I need to come, please, please, can I come?" You cried out, already feeling it.

He'd let it slide this time. You were a beginner, after all.

"Yes, baby. Come for me. Show me what I do to you."

You clamped violently around him, squelching, wet walls milking his length, and he picked up his pace, the sound of your moans, your orgasm, all too much. His whole body tensed up as he spilled inside you, groaning, gently pulling out moments later.

He released your sore wrists from the handcuffs, taking the blindfolds off your eyes.

"That wasn't so bad." You jested, throat dry.

"Yeah, just you wait when I introduce you to the flogger."

The blush on your cheeks was rewarding as he pulled you in his arms again.

[mediumgayitalian]

It is so rare, for a day of peace. So, so rare. For the Apollo cabin to be empty, for siblings to be busy, for the sun to be gentle and the birds to be sweet.

"Hey, Will."

So serene. Truly. Cecil lounging on Will's bed, remembering to have taken his shoes off for once. Quietly flipping through a comic book. Will, suffering but willingly, with his Calculus III textbook on the floor. Actually making progress this time, gunning through practice questions.

And Lou Ellen.

It always has to be one of them.

Lou Ellen watches, velvet skirts tucked under her crossed ankles, dark eyes squinting in contemplation.

Will barely looks up, scrawling something illegible over the most graphite-smudged paper maybe in the entire world.

"Yeah."

"Can we kiss for a little bit?"

That works. The slowly shifting sun through the dusty windows pauses. The chisme plants turn, slowly, shifting their stems to the center of the cabin. Will takes a full seventeen seconds to visibly separate from his textbook, process the question, and erupt into a shade of red previously unknown to man.

"Um," he says, or rather squeaks. "Yes?"

Cecil snorts, turning a page.

"Bicycle."

"Shut the fuck up, Cecil."

"Just like your father."

"Shut the fuck up, Cecil."

"I just want to try something," Lou Ellen soothes, potentially hearing the lack of breathing happening in Will's general direction. "Like, for science. That works for you, right, nerd?"

"Science generally begins with a hypothesis and due process," says Will weakly. But he dutifully crawls over to her direction, settling in front of her. "Um. Now?"

"Now would be great," Lou Ellen agrees. She tilts her head. "So do you just, like, go for it, or...?"

"I mean. In my experience?"

"Which is about to go from two to three," Cecil adds.

This time, Lou Ellen and Will are in perfect sync:

"Shut the fuck up, Cecil!"

Cecil flips another page and promises nothing.

The determination has slowed some of the blush in Will's face, containing it high in his cheeks. Or, well, spite. Cecil-branded fury. That does a whole lot of activating every modicum of ADHD impulsivity in Will's soul.

"Okay," he says, nodding to himself. He meets Lou Ellen's wide, round eyes. "Okay, so I'm gonna -- lean in. And we gotta close our eyes or it's weird. And then I'm gonna kiss you, okay? And you test."

Lou Ellen nods, serious. "Got it."

She breathes in, then out. She purses her lips, leaning forward. Her hands rest, fingers spread, on her knees. Her eyes flutter shut.

Will exhales. He squeezes his eyes shut.

He leans in, gently, and presses his lips to hers, resting a warm hand on the soft curve of her jaw.

"Hm," says Lou Ellen, as they separate. "Hm."

Will shifts nervously.

"You smell good," he offers. "And you taste like orange shampoo. In a good way."

Lou Ellen narrows her eyes at him. She reaches her hand out slowly, like how you may approach a startled horse, and grabs Will's chin with the tips of her fingers.

"Why," Will says.

"Hm," says Lou Ellen, again. She moves his face from side to side, inspecting. Will does not protest, but does choose to make an entirely unintelligible gesture with his hands. "You are hot, aren't you."

"Gah??" Will says. The confusions shifts rapidly from his face; his eyes widen, pupils narrowing, he tries and fails to pull slightly away and generally makes a collection of noises that boil down to hey, pardon. "I'm??"

Cecil choses this moment in time to tuck his comic carefully away, facing his friends in full. He also chooses to take this time to appraise Will's slightly squished face, nodding smugly.

"Yeah, he's a babe."

"Right, okay, that's what I thought. It's the bone structure, right, it totally --"

"Yeah, yeah, and the pouty lips, that definitely --"

"--you're so literally right --"

"You ever watched his shoulders?"

"They're biteable! Biteable, and when he plays volleyball it's like --"

"--yep. And his legs are approximately the length of the equator."

"Freckly, too, it's so --"

"His eyes??"

"I know??"

"Honestly wild."

They turn to him, twin dark brown eyes glowing amber in the sun, appraising him from his golden hair to his bare toes. Will, unfortunately, seems to be right on the urge of passing out, so red he has begun to glow, so warm Lou is forced to let go, and so lightheaded he has begun to sway.

"Hngg-what," he mumbles, eyes far away. "Wha -- I'm --"

Cecil pokes gently at him with his toe.

"I think we broke him," he observes.

"I see," Lou Ellen agrees, chin in her hands. "That's kinda cute, too."

"Oh yah. He's like -- he's never not a smokeshow, you know? Like he's hot when he's mad."

"Smoking."

"And the whole -- it's diabolical to say, but he's like..."

"Movie star pretty when he cries. Yeah, yeah, I hear you."

They turn to each other, lips pursed in thought. They turn back to their slightly dying friend.

"Hm," they say, together.

Will begins to pray. His father, intrigued, only shifts to better the lighting on Will's face. Will agonizes, shifting to pray to his aunt. This too proves useless.

"You know," says Lou Ellen. She taps her manicured finger against her cheek. "We could always share him."

Cecil raises his eyebrows. "We could?"

"Do I??" Will gestures wildly, face now glowing so brightly he is kind of hard to see. "Get a say??"

Cecil and Lou Ellen look at each other. They look back at Will.

"No."

"Nah."

"That's! I am -- taken, okay! I!"

Cecil snorts. "A long-standing crush on greasy Gerard Way does not count as --"

"It's not his fault he's greasy!"

Lou Ellen observes the boys. She hums to herself, rocking back on her knees.

"-- and he's hardly ever here, you met him like twice --"

"Four times! And he's charming!"

Hm indeed.

"I have an announcement to make," Lou Ellen announces.

Both boys stop immediately. Lou Ellen nods graciously, sitting regally on Will's bed. Will pouts a little, but says nothing.

"I am considering converting to lesbianism," she says solemnly. "I'm not sure yet, but I have been presented with a case and it is compelling."

Will and Cecil shrug, making noises of agreement.

"Yeah, fair."

"I mean, girls. I get you."

Will clears his throat. "But, uh. No boys? For sure?" His pout returns. It is indeed very cute. "Did I do a bad job?"

Lou Ellen reaches over and pats him very gently on the head. Her bangles get in his eyes a little. He blinks them away politely.

"Aw, no. You just seem very hung up, and I'm not sure how well dating Cecil would work, and no one else will talk to me yet."

"Dating me is an amazing experience, I have references," Cecil says, at the same time Will says, "Wait, still?"

There is a pause. Again, they speak at the same time:

"Stop using me as a reference, Cecil, gods."

"You want me to vandalize their possession for you, Lou? I would love to do that for you."

Lou Ellen moves to pat Cecil gently and condensendingly on the head.

"I'm good. Thanks, though. Chiron says they just need time. And perhaps an ass-kicking, if I feel so inclined."

"Sage."

"Good advice, that."

They all nod at each other. Wordlessly, they stand, returning to their earlier positions: Cecil, reclining on Will's bed, having abandoned the comic book for a nap; Will, poking at his math; and Lou Ellen, passing a green spark around her fingers and carefully Observing.

It takes her several minutes of reflection to blink and realise.

References.

Her eyes widen.

"Hey, wait a second --"

[lo1k-diamonds]

Bubbles 💜 Part 4

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook's Entry

“If you want to be with me.”

PAIRING: Jungkook x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: Jungkook did change - he learned from his mistakes. Did you?

WORD COUNT: 7.4 k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: arguing, crying, angst, making up, semi-public, fingering, orgasm control/denial, begging, soft Dom Kook if you squint, nipple play, mirror sex, unprotected sex, confessions

PARTS: [1] [2] [3] > [4] <

A.N. And here we have it! I'll miss this couple, they're intense 😁 Sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy it! 💜 (Thank you @eerieedits for the cool banner 💜)

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad

“So what do I get for you?”

You barely noticed the girl whose name you couldn’t recall, waiting for you now that the conversation about Jeon Jungkook had ended.

“A porn star martini,” you bit quietly, eyes quickly drifting to the couple just a few tables over, at the bar. Cold sweats chilled your spine as you watched Jungkook laugh and thank the bartender for the beer, all while the girl with him all but drooled all over his bicep.

“Stay calm.”

Youngjoo was the voice of reason, and it stung you. “I am,” you bit at her, glancing at her before staring at the scene again. You couldn’t look away, both dreading and anticipating how that would unfold. “I recognize her,” you admitted, giving in to the anxiety lacing its claws around your heart. “She was at the party, hitting on him a week ago. She is a model.”

“Okay, and what did he say about it?”

You whipped your head, glaring at her. “I told you before, he laughed it off!”

Youngjoo rolled her eyes. “I mean after that. Haven’t you talked about it after that?”

You looked away. “No.”

Youngjoo turned to you with raised eyebrows. “Why not? Are you guys not talking?”

You shrugged. “We’ve sent a few texts. We’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been busy?” she repeated, skeptically. “I mean, of course you have, but it’s not that. You went from not leaving his side to barely not talking?” You could tell by her tone that she was incredulous. “You need to talk to him! You need to be on the same page about all this. Don’t let some misunderstanding happen again. If it’s not meant to be, then it’s not. Just talk to him first.”

You clenched your jaw, finally looking at your best friend to avoid glaring at the girl clinging to Jungkook. “If he wants his fuck boy life, then—”

“Stop putting words in his mouth! So what if some girl hit on him? He went home with you!”

“Actually, he dropped me off so he could help his brother with the roof of his place…”

“Oh, m— Won’t you stop it?! Since when are you this insecure about him?”

You glared at her once again, snapping in a caustic tone, “Since he has models grovelling on their knees, begging for seconds!”

“But he chose you.” You straightened back up on the sofa, and she continued, “He could have them if he wanted, but he chose you.”

Your eyes were locked with hers as you silently fought her without a word. You doubted she was right, and she reproved the way you were handling things. You could see it in her eyes — you promised Jungkook and yourself you wouldn’t make the same old mistakes. When Youngjoo had asked you about getting back together after you had hurt so much over the last year, you had assured her you were more mature now; you both were. So what the hell were you—

“Hi.”

You turned, shuddering with the sound of his voice before you saw him standing there, black leather jacket, wet hair curling over his ears, and a half-drunk beer bottle in his hand. 

“Hi, Jungkook. How are you?”

Youngjoo put you to shame with the way she effortlessly made casual conversation while you couldn’t even say something. Instead, your eyes were on the girls around you, who were casually listening in and ogling Jungkook. 

They threw quizzical glances at you — do you know him?

They gave Youngjoo looks, too — can you introduce us?

But Youngjoo ignored them, and you did the same.

You heard your name, so your attention was pulled into the conversation. “—that she was coming with you and a few friends to the SX tonight, and I thought I’d join you.”

“What a great idea,” Youngjoo praised, probably with more emphasis than she should have. Same as your best friend’s, Jungkook’s eyes were also on you, but unlike him, you couldn’t seem to hold his gaze. Your stomach twisted as you tried ignoring your sweaty palms. You felt like a teenager, the furthest from mature you had ever been. “How about we go get a round of shots? My treat!”

She clapped for the others to follow her, and although the girls offered resistance, Youngjoo managed to drag them along. You got up, too, ready to follow after them, but Jungkook’s presence kept you locked in. Not that he touched you or overtly expressed anything towards you, but his presence next to yours, his arm brushing yours, your hands grazing as his cologne reached your nose, made you stay, standing on shaky legs.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the floor as you took a deep, soothing breath. 

“What’s wrong?”

His question made you finally meet his eyes, only to have your stomach drop. A week ago, you thought it would be best to talk directly and clear things out, but now you just didn’t have the guts. Maybe Youngjoo was right — you were too insecure about him and yourself. You needed that conversation, but not now.

You knew what he’d tell you — you could already see his gentle eyes as he drew you close and said, I know those eyes.

So you took a deep breath and replied before he could.

“I’m just tired,” you explained, attempting a smile. “I’m going home.”

He placed his beer on a nearby table. “I’ll take you home.”

“Stay,” you insisted. “You're having fun.”

“Fun?” he asked, shaking his head slightly with a smile. “Nah, no reason for me to stay. Besides, you don’t look so good. I’ll take you home.”

He gave you a nod to lead the way, and you made your way through the crowd. Once in the lobby, you took your phone from your purse to text Youngjoo about leaving with Jungkook and followed him quietly out into one of the many streets in Itaewon.

Jungkook turned around to check if you were still following and slowed down so you could walk side by side through the Friday night crowd.

“How’s the apartment?” he asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Fine, it’s quiet,” you confirmed, meaning to reassure one of the first things he worried about after sleeping there with you the first weekend.

“Good, that’s good. Maybe we just caught a neighbour partying that weekend.”

You nodded and kept going, eyes lost in the partying crowd, smiling and laughing, unlike you.

“What about the washing machine? Still giving you issues?”

“No, the plumber you called fixed it. Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled at you. “You can always do laundry at mine if it gives you problems again.”

You smiled back, closing your coat a little more to stop the winter cold.

“Are the elevators working again?”

“Oh yeah, they fixed it the morning you left. It’s only been two weeks, but I’ve already noticed that they keep at least one of them working.”

“That must be annoying.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I live on the second floor; I take the stairs most of the time.”

“That’s good.” His voice sounded distant for a second. “What about work? Is that other department head still giving you a hard time?”

“I’m still adjusting…”

Your smile dropped from your face, and he instantly reached out to grab your hand. “It’s a phase. Just wait until they get to know you and how good you are.”

“Thank you.” You squeezed his hand and smiled genuinely, noticing the stars in his eyes the moment he stole a glance.

But then he had to let go of your hand to get into the underground parking lot, squeezing in the narrow corridor to allow the many people wanting to reach the street to pass you in the opposite direction.

You asked him to lead, as you didn’t know where he had parked his motorcycle, and he did, unable to talk to you above the noise of roaring engines and loud people, who were excited to party. The same groups kept both of you pressed against the wall as you went further down the stairs, until you exited them on the third level.

It was suddenly much quieter, with faint echoes and the occasional sound of cars driving along the parking lot.

The silence almost gave you whiplash, your ears ringing faintly.

“And the—” Jungkook’s voice was so loud it echoed. He cleared his throat. “The team? Your colleagues, are they nice?”

“Very nice, actually.”

He nodded quietly as he led the way to his red motorcycle. Once beside it, he pulled the keys out of his black leather jacket pocket, then twirled them once.

“Should I take you to a doctor instead?” he asked, and you raised your eyebrows. “I mean, you said you’re tired a lot…”

“No, I’m not sick,” you assure him, noticing his eyes avoiding you. Suddenly, the silence felt heavy again. “Why?”

“Am I… Should I… I mean,” he tried, grabbing his keys firmly in a fist. “If I’m bothering you, I can… give you space.”

You paled. “What?”

“It’s okay, I understand that it’s a lot with the moving back and the new job and… we have our issues, too. I’m sure it’s difficult, I don’t want to make it harder for you.”

Your blood ran so loudly in your ears that you didn’t know if you heard him clearly. Yet, this one word caught your attention. “Issues?”

Your eyes instantly teared up, and your guts twisted. That was it. You knew it, he was done with you.

“I don’t mean—” His wide brown eyes as he waved his hands tried to interrupt your thoughts. “No, I mean—”

“So things aren’t going well,” you thought out loud, feeling a chill up your spine.

“Wait, that’s not what I’m saying.”

In a split second, your eyes were full to the brim, and there was a sob about to shake you, and you instinctively spun on your heels to hide it. “We can talk about this later—”

“No,” he cut in and caught your arm before you could make an escape. Instead, he spun you around, making the back of your legs collide gently against his bike. “I’m never going to let you walk away without things being clear. Never again,” he promised, looking deep into your eyes. Your guts twisted for an entirely different reason. His eyes were puffy but firm, and suddenly your heart ached; you missed him so much. “I’m just… I’m worried. You’re quiet and distant, and I don’t want you to feel like you have an obligation to be with me or something.”

The blood drained from your face. “You— You don’t want to be with me?”

“Of course I do,” he scolded with a hint of a frown. He cupped your cheek. “What nonsense are you saying? Would I even mention it if I didn’t want to be with you?”

Your breath hitched. “You just said something about space.”

“If you need it because—” He looked straight into your eyes, drawing his thumb over your cheek in a caress. “Because I don’t want to be something you worry about.”

Your mouth opened to object — he wasn’t a problem, he was home — but then you closed it as your eyebrows drew closer together.

“So I am,” he said quietly. “Something you worry about.”

Your eyes lowered stubbornly, even as tears pooled again. But then his hand dropped from your face, and it unintentionally stung your heart.

So you raised your gaze sharply. “You’re right, you are, so I’ll just get it off my chest.”

As soon as you said it, you were breathless, watching his glistening eyes. The fear of everything falling apart froze you for a second, but then you swallowed dryly and decided to open up.

“I don’t think I’m a jealous person, I just— I think I have healthy boundaries, that’s all. In the end, I can’t, nor do I want to, control you or anyone you do whatever with. I don’t want to deny you freedom or whatever, either. But I don’t see how I’m supposed to keep quiet. If you need multiple women to give you attention and hit on you, then maybe restarting just isn’t a good idea.”

He just looked at you the whole time, not interrupting, not moving. He listened attentively to every word you said, until he raised an eyebrow. “Wait, is that the problem? You think I want that? Is that why you’re acting distant?”

You crossed your arms over your chest to hide the tremble. “I’m not…”

“Is that why you text me less and are tired so often?”

“I’ve been really tired…”

He took a step closer to you. “Is that why you don’t come to mine anymore?”

You pursed your lips, looking away. Now that he said it, you had to admit that, once again, you were a coward in many ways.

“Is that why you say you’ll come to a party with me and then don’t show up?”

Your eyes found his immediately, and your hesitation must have been evident in your face. By the way he looked at you, you knew there was no use in keeping secrets.

“I did show up. Remember Soyeon? She helped you with a class one or two years ago? She was there. And Haechan? He graduated with me. He was there too.”

Jungkook nodded slowly. “I know, I saw them.”

His patience was enough for you to know he was waiting for more, and you pressed your lips before letting it out. “I arrived before you did. I saw you arrive, and by the time I got to the kitchen, I overheard Seungkwan saying something about you needing to be free and not doing relationships and all that…”

Jungkook groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands for a moment before suddenly wrapping his arms around you to let his forehead fall to your shoulder.

“You gave me such a scare.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused about his reaction but happy to hold him, too.

“I thought you were giving up on us.”

You scoffed playfully. “And your reflex is to give me space?”

He snapped back up to look at you. “I don’t want to push you away!”

“Well, you are! Or would,” you corrected, biting your tongue. “Shouldn’t you be pulling me in instead of—”

He pulled you in by the waist. “I am.” You pressed your lips again, and he sighed. “Why would you listen to anything Seungkwan says? What does he know about what I want or do? I’m guessing you didn’t stick around to hear my reply.”

You blushed and looked down at his chest. “I… did not… So what do we do now?”

“About what?”

“About how I feel.”

He hummed, looking up as though recalling. “You mean about your jealousy?”

“Yes,” you said, still looking away. “Maybe I don’t even have the right to be jealous…”

“You do.” He pulled your arms around his neck. “If you want to.”

You scoffed. “If I want to be jealous?”

“If you want to be with me.”

Your mocking smile dropped before the seriousness in his eyes. “You know I do.”

He nodded. “I do, but… Can we be more?”

Your eyebrows quirked. “More than together?”

“Officially together,” he whispered, looking at you as your guts twisted again.

“We aren’t? I mean, I thought— We’re either together or we’re not,” you pointed out, swallowing hard.

“Right, that’s good.” He squeezed you closer. “No, forget I said anything.”

“No, that—” Your breath caught as you pressed your palms to his chest, grounding yourself. “What does that mean?” you asked, seeking clarity while your sight grew blurry. “I never thought of it in any other way, did you—” Your voice wavered with a pain you couldn’t hold back. “Did you— Those girls—”

“No. Look at me,” he urged, searching your eyes now full of tears. “No. I didn’t know how you felt about us, but—”

“We said we’d try again!” you exploded, the tears streaming down your face. “What do you think that means?!”

You were trembling, unable to keep your pain and fear from lashing out, but he didn’t even flinch. He kept you close and guided your foreheads to touch. “It means we love each other. I know that. It means you’re mine, just like I’m yours. I know that,” he insisted. “But I needed to know how you thought about it. I… You’ve been so distant for the past week.”

“You could have asked me about it.”

“We should have talked, clearly,” he instantly agreed, looking deeply into your eyes despite your snarky comment. “If you knew how much I want to be with you, you would never have gotten jealous like this. You would have never ignored me after you just saw me talking to someone—”

You smacked his shoulders. “Can you blame me?!” It was hard not to cry, but suddenly you were angry all over again. “I thought you were keeping your options open or regretting giving up your fuck boy life!” His hands were firmly on your waist as you tried not to sob. “You knew how I felt and still—!”

“I didn’t know you felt like this.”

“I told you!! And you laughed!!”

Jungkook frowned, about to shake his head and deny ever laughing, when suddenly it hit him. “You mean at my work dinner party? No, but I didn’t think you were serious!”

“What? Why not?!”

“Because there’s no way I’d ever look at someone else,” he deadpanned, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Not when I have you back in my life, it’s just— I thought you were joking!”

You caught your breath, realizing as he tried defending himself that you were crazy angry. You had tears on your face, red cheeks, were panting, and your throat felt rough.

“Well, I wasn’t,” you managed to mutter after calming down. Meanwhile, you could see Jungkook thinking about things as well, and he looked calm and sober, never taking his eyes or hands off you.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I can’t stop anyone from talking to me, but I have told anyone who asked that I was taken.”

“At the party, you introduced me as your friend.”

“That’s exactly why I wanted to make sure!” he blurted out, and as you frowned, he rushed to add, “Not because I’m not in it one thousand percent, but because I don’t want to put words into your mouth or go too fast! Remember? I don’t want to put you in that position again.”

Your lips trembled as your heart ached. You were clearly the one who hadn’t learned from her mistakes.

“And tonight? The girl you saw?” he continued. “She asked me if I was lying about being with someone because she hasn’t seen me with anyone in a while.”

Your jaw hardened as you grumbled, “Well, then. Let’s go back to the club and give her a show—”

“No,” he cut in and stopped you before you could leave the comfortable position you were in, between him and his motorcycle. “I don’t care about what anyone thinks, but I do care about us. I’ll just give your name next time, you fight it out.”

“You want me to fight her?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow as he hugged you.

He chuckled, “No, obviously. I want to walk in with you hand in hand and hug you and kiss you without worrying that you won’t like it because we’re going too fast.”

“You thought I wouldn’t?” You were in disbelief. “I’d always like it.”

“Always?” He looked into your eyes, and your knees were weak. You nodded. “You wouldn't think it's too fast?”

You shook your head eagerly. “No! I want to be with you, the whole deal, the whole package. It's not too fast,” you raised your hand to caress his cheek, “if anything, it's too slow. We need to make up for the time we lost.”

He nodded quietly, licking his lips. “Can we pick it back up where we left it?”

You grabbed his leather jacket and pulled him close. “Yes. Just kiss me, I miss you—”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you were never so happy to forget about whatever you were saying. You dove headfirst, showing him you were as desperate and crazy about him as he was about you. You could barely breathe, and all thoughts about where you were flew out the window. All you cared about was licking the lingering taste of beer still in his mouth while you grabbed his hair just as firmly as he grabbed yours.

The more he consumed you, pushing his tongue past your lips and sinking his fingers into your hips, the more heated you became. Your thoughts were clouded as you got intoxicated — his taste, his scent, his touch, the lip ring grazing your lip, his hair curling around your fingers. You weren’t thinking, you just had a visceral need to be his again. Not just to correct your wrongs, but to rewrite history.

His hand on your hip raked your dress up to squeeze your ass and you did the only sensible thing possible — you sat on his motorcycle. Instantly, your leg laced around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The hard-on grazing your core told you everything you needed to know; it was your carte blanche.

“Kook, don’t make me wait,” you begged once he gave you a reprieve and kissed down your jaw.

He wasn’t shy about humping you, gripping your leg around him so firmly you were sure it would bruise. “What do you want, bubbles?”

“Need,” you corrected, unapologetically grabbing his head and squeezing your tits between your arms in the process, hoping he’d notice what was right under his nose.

“What do you need?” he breathed, dragging his lips over your chest until he hid in the valley between your breasts.

The anticipation alone was making you throb and clench, gluing your underwear to you while you wished you had no clothes separating your skins. “You. Inside me,” you moaned, feeling his tongue licking every stretch of skin he could while he ground against you roughly. If he were inside you, you’d be undone by now. “Please,” you begged, your voice wavering as you writhed. You leaned in to speak as closely to his ear as possible. “I need to be yours again, please.”

Your voice faded into a whimper when he bit down on one of your tits, yet it wasn’t that that made you gush between your legs, bracing yourself for what you wanted most. He placed you on the bike more firmly, wrapping your other leg around him, then pushed your underwear to the side and skimmed your dripping folds ever so lightly. Enough for you to moan and for him to groan against your chest.

“Fuck… bubbles,” he sounded muffled but you didn’t care, proud that he knew you were more than ready for him.

You weren’t shy from incentivizing him to continue, whispering in his ear, “Feel that? For you,” you moaned, trembling from the sensations shaking you. “I’m so ready for you, you’ll feel so good, please…”

You squirmed, trying to make his fingers touch you more firmly where you needed them, but as usual, Jungkook did what he pleased. He chose to pull his hand away despite your request, and as your pleas shifted to whimpers, he pushed your coat over your shoulder. You shimmied, easily taking it off.

Then, he slid the zipper of your dress down your back and pushed the straps down your arms. Your skin tingled under his touch while you were dazed by the hickeys he was leaving across your chest. Even feeling him unhook your bra didn’t startle you; you only realized his goal when he pushed away all barriers and finally got a nipple inside his mouth.

You had to make your best effort not to let your moans echo in the parking lot. It was so hard, you started trembling, sinking your nails into his scalp, when his hips snapped forward as though he wished he were inside you right now. You showed him you wanted the same by helping him dry humping into you, the fraction of friction enough to have you begging yet again, but he had other plans.

He kept nibbling and torturing your nipple in his mouth while his free hand got under your skirt again, unabashedly going straight for your core.

Your efforts to suppress your moans made your very bones shake as his thumb gently drew circles on your clit. Every new motion elicited a new shudder, to the point you were holding your breath and letting your body unfold along with the pleasure. It was so singular and soft, immediately contrasted by his mouth suckling, making your toes curl.

“Kook, please,” you cried as soon as you could, surfacing to draw a quick breath before sinking into it again.

“What do you need, bubbles?” he asked again, nuzzling and pecking all over your chest as though he was so lost in you, he no longer knew what you needed.

As if that was possible.

“You. Inside me,” you managed to say through the shivers, making your lower belly coil. Every lap of his thumb was a threat to your sanity, pushing you closer. You sank your nails into his scalp and crossed your legs behind him so he’d stay as close as possible. “I need you, I missed you… Kiss me, please.”

Your desperation was obvious in your breathy words, and your heart thumped when his lips left your chest to acquiesce. His mouth was quick to slot in with yours, instantly seeking your taste with his tongue as though being inside you meant in every way possible. You kissed him harder, knowing it would bruise your lips. His thumb disappeared momentarily as he adjusted the clothes between your bodies, and you moaned breathlessly in anticipation. Only what suddenly invaded you was not his hard dick as you had hoped, but two fingers that he curled inside you.

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut further when he started playing with your slick, getting his fingers properly coated by pulling away and pushing back inside you multiple times.

“How— How could you—” you complained, finally managing to open your eyes.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as he kept you as close as could be with your foreheads pressed together. He chuckled sensually, and you throbbed around his fingers. “Did you forget where we are?” he asked. Your lashes fluttered as you tried to think, but it was impossible while he fingered you with that deliciously slow and consistent rhythm. “Besides, I have to make you a good girl. Make you earn it first.”

His playfulness made your stomach flutter, clenching around his fingers before you even realized how close you were. You gripped him harder, closer to you, so needy you couldn’t think further than him, right there, with you.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered, trembling with want. He ghosted your lips as you breathed, “Whatever you want, I—”

Everything happened so fast. Your mind was invaded with possibilities of what he might have wanted, from you getting on your knees to suck him to him turning you around and fucking you raw, either way covering your insides white. As if your fantasies weren’t enough, he raised his thumb, trying to give you extra friction. For a split second, you were sure you’d come in seconds.

But then the loud noise of a door slamming open broke through your haze, and everything stilled. Jungkook’s hand stopped as he hugged you closer, hiding your face in the crook of his neck with a possessive grip that quickly turned into a soothing caress.

You heard the laughter and steps of people entering the parking lot not so far from you while your racing heart calmed inside your chest. Jungkook’s scent and embrace were enough to keep you relaxed, but then his hand slid off you slowly, and you cried out quietly. His neck muffled it, but still.

“No…” You whined. “I was right there.”

“Sorry, bubbles.”

You sulked hard and pulled away abruptly to glare at him, but your chin dropped instead. He was casually licking your slick off his fingers while the group of people got inside their car a few rows behind you.

You blinked, befuddled, and before you could say something, he was already kissing you again. The way he pressed himself to you, hard, hot, and tasting of you, scrambled your mind entirely. Licking your taste on his tongue made you grab him close and press him to your needy core. It was enough to move your hips, dry humping him while his hands grabbed your ass and helped.

You were so turned on that the lightest touch was enough to set you ablaze. “Fuck, please… Jungkook, please…”

“I want to, bubbles.” He groaned, kissing down your jaw. “You drive me fucking insane.” You agreed eagerly, nuzzling him while your hands tried to search for his belt. “But I want to take you home.”

“Sounds perfect,” you agreed, unbuckling his belt when he stopped your hands. You faintly heard tires screeching as a car left the parking lot, but your mind was focused on Jungkook.

“Now,” he clarified softly, raising his hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I need to take you home.”

Suddenly, the lust dictating your every move receded. Your mind was brought to a conversation you two had one month ago, and everything was clearer.

I hate that I brought you here 'cause I wanted to see you here, in my home, as if that could bring back what we once were.

Jungkook always needed to bring you home because you were the woman of his dreams. The one he loved with his whole heart, whom he could never hate.

You cupped his cheeks and nodded, kissing him tenderly. “Take me home, Kook.”

His precious smile meant everything. He quickly helped you fix your clothes and put your coat back on before buckling his belt and giving you the extra helmet he always kept under the seat. Once seated behind him, you kissed the back of his neck before putting your helmet on and holding onto him.

As usual, as soon as the motorcycle engine roared, you let all thoughts fade from your mind. There were no more worries or doubts, just Jungkook taking you back home, as if you had never left.

The way to his home was paved with tenderness and care. He drove carefully, not too slow, not too fast, grabbing your hand on his chest whenever he had to stand still at a red light. You responded by pressing yourself flush to him, molding to his body like a blanket. You knew by the way he touched your leg sporadically or squeezed your hand that he loved every second.

When he parked in the underground garage of his apartment building, no words were exchanged. Not even all the way up to his apartment. You both moved in silent tandem, storing the helmets away, then holding hands and making way to the elevator. You stood close, easily curled up to his chest while you waited, and the familiarity of that moment soothed you. It was just like three weeks ago, just like one year ago; thankfully, nothing had changed.

When you entered his apartment, you hung up your coat on the coat hanger, the same one he had kicked to the floor in a fury one month ago, when you fought. When you drove him insane because, despite the words out of his mouth, the one thing Jungkook never wanted was for you to leave.

You smiled at the memory. “I’m home,” you sighed, stepping in.

His living room was just as you remembered; the blanket you used to snuggle on the couch was still there, as was your favorite coffee mug next to the coffee machine in the kitchen. 

Before you could turn around and tell him how much those little things made you feel at home, his arms wrapped around you from behind. And just like that, you were more than welcomed back, more than safe.

You pulled his arms further around your middle, making him drape over you like a blanket this time.

“Bubbles…”

His whisper in your ear was enough for you to turn around and meet his waiting lips. He didn’t relent his hold for one second; instead, he pulled you flush to him, kissing you gently before softly picking you up from the floor. You held onto him with arms and legs, sighing into his kiss as he carried you.

He placed you gently on the bed, and you were quick to get on your knees so your lips would stay connected to his at all times. You were so heated, pulling his shirt so he’d take it off and welcoming him straight after when he returned his mouth to yours, that you barely noticed his deft fingers sliding your zipper down. Yet as soon as you did, you peeled the dress and everything else as quickly as possible. The moment your lips connected once again, he was unbuckling his belt, and the very sound made you clench unapologetically. You wanted him so much you wouldn’t be able to think until all of him was all over you.

You tried to move, but your foot got stuck, forcing you to turn and look. Your heels were getting tangled in the sheets and you chuckled, sitting back on your butt to take them off. Jungkook smiled too, never taking his eyes off you as he stripped naked. Yet, your eyes drifted from him to the mirror behind him after throwing your heels on the floor. Not just because of the view of his round ass and sculpted back, but the whole image — you on the bed, naked, waiting for him. It reminded you of the first time you got back together, when he moved the mirror on purpose so he could see you.

Before he could put his knees on the bed and embrace you again, you got on all fours and reached out your hand to him. He grabbed it instantly, letting you guide him behind you to face the mirror too.

“I want you to see me every time you look into this mirror,” you told him, kissing his hand before putting it on your body. “Even when I’m not here.”

He brushed his hands down your curves slowly, admiring you in front of him as he got on the bed. Soon, his whole body was a blanket again, covering you from head to toe. His strong chest pressed to your back as his broad shoulders framed you, leaving nothing to the imagination, not even his excitement.

Yet your mind didn’t go there immediately. Instead, you basked in his sweet caresses and kisses as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “I always have, bubbles…”

Your heart thumped loudly inside your chest as you shuddered, knowing he was telling the truth. Knowing that was how deep you were for him.

Jungkook didn’t take long to trace, kiss, and nuzzle every bit of skin you left for him to find, taking pleasure in nibbling and tickling you so you’d squirm and chuckle. Meanwhile, you had no gripe with pressing yourself further into him, scratching his arms, and bucking your hips, trying to get him to align with you. 

At first, he chuckled, playing along, but eventually, he grabbed your hips. “Eager?”

“I’m a good girl, and we’re no longer in a parking lot,” you replied. He nipped your shoulder in retaliation, but you weren’t taunting him. “We’re home, so won’t you come home to me?”

He groaned, grabbing your hair to turn your head so you’d meet his lips. His mouth was needy, almost rough on yours, and you matched him. You were busy meeting his tongue and trying to lick his lip ring when you felt him pressing the head of his cock to your entrance.

Your chin immediately dropped, turning a needy kiss into a messy one, especially when he thrusted shallowly, trying to stretch you to his size. You both groaned, loving the searing pleasure climbing your spine as he bottomed out.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and you whimpered. His fingers started drawing gentle circles on your clit and your hips buckled against him. You could feel him sliding so well, melting under the strength of his arms and the sweetness of his lips. “You’re so wet…”

You bit your lip, letting the way he fit inside you override your senses. It was so easy to let go and forget everything when Jungkook kept whispering sweet nothings into your ear while he rubbed your clit slowly. His hips were even slower, barely moving while he stayed perfectly hard inside you, as though telling you how amazing you felt was more important than fucking you.

It drove you wild; the more gentle his touch, the more you needed more. The more he told you how much he wanted you, the more you craved him. To the point that when he bit your earlobe playfully, you snapped your hips back, making him reach deep and bottom out again.

His hand automatically striked your asscheek, but you felt it like a caress.

“Needy,” he whispered, nibbling your shoulder, and you sighed.

“Only for you.”

His hand darted from your ass to your hair, pulling ever so slightly so you’d arch your back. His hips gained a rhythm, snapping to yours more vehemently while he suckled and took nips at your neck. 

You grunted, dazed and happy. You wanted everything, from his kisses and teases to the way he rutted into you and caged you in like you were his. His fingers left your hair to your core again, knowing how to softly pave the way of your pleasure while your walls clenched around his length, feeling him slide into you so well. The sloppy sounds made you proud.

Until he slowed down and bit your ear again, knowing your squirms were because he was keeping you on edge for far too long.

You were about to call him out when he whispered, “I want to look at you.”

You raised your head to look into the mirror, having completely forgotten about it, and met his gaze. His eyes glistened sweetly, trained on you while his hips kept a sweet rhythm, and you sighed. This was all about you two, not whatever he did before he found you again.

So you raised a hand and guided his sweet lips to meet yours, telling him with a slow kiss that you loved him. You could always have hot, frenzied sex, but right now, you wanted that sweet loving only he could give you.

He understood you perfectly. He pulled out and sat on the bed, grabbing your hand to keep you close while giving you the choice of what would happen next. You rose to your knees and smiled at him, unable to hide how much your heart thrummed with his gentleness toward you. Then, you leaned back, splaying your hair on his pillow while pulling him over you. His eyes eagerly took in your silhouette, including your smile, as you spread your legs and welcomed him. You belonged in his bed, on his pillows, and he belonged to you.

He instantly crushed you to the mattress, sweetly wrapping your legs around him as he kissed you deeply. He didn’t just love you with passion; he lived it too.

Aligning himself with you took a second, and sliding into you, filling you whole, was instantaneous. You gasped as he pecked your cheek and moved with him, knowing this was it. He wasn’t just enjoying feeling you, nor guiding your pleasure in ways that blew your mind. He was looking at you with love and desire unfolding with every thrust. Every time your bodies pieced together, stealing your breath away between one moan and another, his starry eyes stayed on yours, locked together, strengthening the foundations of your commitments until you were ready to cry out.

“Kook…” you breathed, quickly squinting your eyes. You wanted to look at him, but as your insides coiled, ready to be released at any moment, it was harder and harder.

“I’m here, bubbles,” he assured you. He grabbed your hands, pressing them to the mattress next to your head, and you knew that look. Knew that angle, recognised the snap of his hips, and soon the burn stretched through your body, making you keen. He knew you so incredibly well that you weren’t surprised when he sharpened his thrusts. There was no hesitation, just pure want and something deeper and gentler.

Your nails sank into the back of his hands as you bucked your hips, helping him to the last of your strength. Your breathing changed, and so did your moans as you arched your back, and he sank into you. He searched for your mouth, kissing your lips once, twice, with the same cadence as his hips until you collapsed. 

You arched against him, unable to keep your eyes locked with his or that sweet kiss any longer. Your climax floored you, making you scream and tremble as you felt everything. The way he groaned as he hid in your neck, the way his body framed yours with as much gentleness as fucking that need allowed him, and finally, the way he throbbed inside you, releasing warm ropes of cum to make you feel complete.

His lips peppering your neck with kisses quickly reached your own, pressing gently before he lay beside you. 

He pulled you into his arms as you both caught your breath. You rested your head on his chest, and he grabbed your hand. 

“I love you,” he whispered, brushing your knuckles with his lips.

You could hardly be happier. “I love you, too,” you said, kissing his sweaty pec. 

“I need you to know it,” he insisted, looking into your eyes. “When you came back, I felt pathetic. You reminded me of how happy I was before you left me. Of how much it hurt to lose you. Of what I did to try to forget you and how it changed me. So much so, I almost lost you in this whole thing. Even when I knew, as soon as I saw you again, that I wanted no one else. That I wasn't happy with the way I was doing things. That I still love you and want to spend my life with you, even if you tore my life apart when you left.”

You frowned. “Kook—”

“No, I’m saying it because that’s where I stand. This opportunity with you is not just… a gamble or giving it a shot. I love you, I want you, my life isn’t complete without you. No one could ever take your place. It’s been two years since I met you, and this is still true. I want to be with you and be the Jungkook who loves you. Because when you’re in my life, I’m happy and strong enough to live as I dreamt. You're part of all this, of me,” he whispered, kissing your fingers again. “I want you to know that.”

“Kook,” you called, with tears in your eyes. His teary gaze met yours, and you jerked forward to hug him with all your heart. “I love you, too, and I want you too, so much! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I… I should have talked to you immediately. I let it all get to my head. It won't happen again, I promise.”

He nodded, petting your hair as he held you to his chest. “It's part of trying again, right? As long as we figure it out together, I'm happy. But you know what could help?”

You withdrew to look at him with a furrowed brow. “What?” 

He grinned. “A certain ring.”

He pressed his lips to your fingers again, unable to hide a playful smile, while you chuckled.

“One thing at a time.”

He chuckled. “Maybe next year.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

“Why did you ask me that?”

“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.

Whatever. 

There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.

The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week, and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves—not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening—plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes, and can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be happening inside of the building. Sadly, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle though, so.

He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.

He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.

Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten that Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.

Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.

Derek almost laughs at that.

The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.

“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 

“I—what?” Derek's caught off guard; always and only by Stiles. 

Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.

Oh, right.

“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.

Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looking as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.

It doesn't last.

Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.

Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.

An anchor.

Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around, so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.

His heart.

“I asked if you were alright because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye, which works, of course, because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 

Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.

“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 

Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way—self-preservation and all.

“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 

Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay, and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, let him tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.

“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add—after what is undeniably too-long a pause—“And yeah. Maybe I do.” 

Then they just look at each other.

Just—look.

Look and look and look and look.

They each keep looking at the other, for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.

Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.

Whatever happened to self-preservation?

Something is starting to happen, and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about it. 

Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.”

Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, adding—with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder—“Till we're not.”

The latter part is spoken like a secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice. That's not how he means it. It's more promise than threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like.

The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's and Derek could swear he hears every every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once, as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive; nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.

He feels utterly alive.

It's honestly a struggle not to keen and whine like a pup, and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because Derek would be so fucked right now.

He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.

Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit. Just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.

In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 

He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.

Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper.

“Till we're not.”

Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek, before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.

Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.

That's a lot of weird. 

Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.

He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 

He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”

Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.

Derek is memorised. 

Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.

“Everything, Der.”

.

for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)

[leefra98]

Phone call

PAIRING: bsf!heeseung x reader

GENRE: phone sex, fwb , pwp

WARNINGS: masturbation, degradation, multiple orgasms, hee is a perv

Heeseung's voice crackled through the phone line, the background noise of a bustling café a faint hum in my ear. "Hey," he said, the sound of his chewing echoing. "What's up?"

"Not much," I replied, my eyes scanning the room as I leaned back on my bed. "Just chilling. You're out?"

"Yeah, grabbing a coffee," he said, his tone casual despite the muffled sounds of a spoon clinking against the side of a cup. "How's the new book?"

"It's okay," I said, turning a page. "Couldn't say it's the best thing I've ever read, but it's keeping me occupied."

"You're always reading," he chuckled. "You need to get out more."

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "You know me, Heeseung. Besides, I don't think you're one to talk about going out."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a hint of playful defensiveness in his voice.

"You spend more time gaming than socializing," I teased. "When was the last time you even talked to a girl?"

There was a pause, the clinking of the spoon abruptly ceased. "Well," he began, his voice dropping to a whisper, "that's what you're here for."

I raised an eyebrow, confused by his sudden shift in tone. "What do you mean?"

He cleared his throat, the line hissing with static. "I mean, I don't need to go out to get my... needs met."

A warmth began to spread through my cheeks. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Heeseung said, his voice low and deliberate, "that you're my go-to when I need to unwind."

I swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. This was a side of him I had never heard before. "Heeseung, are you... are we..."

"Talking dirty?" he interrupted, a smirk evident in his voice. "Yeah, we are."

I could feel my heart racing, the room suddenly feeling much smaller. "But we're just friends," I protested weakly.

"Best friends," he corrected, the words sending a shiver down my spine. "Best friends who are about to share a little secret."

The line was quiet for a moment, the distant murmur of the café patrons a stark contrast to the silence between us. "Okay," I whispered, curiosity and anticipation warring within me. "What's your secret?"

Heeseung took a deep breath, the sound of fabric rustling faintly. "I can't stop thinking about you, Y/N," he admitted, his voice thick with something I couldn't quite identify. "Every time we talk, every time I hear your voice..."

The rustling grew louder, and it dawned on me what he was doing. "Are you... are you touching yourself?" I asked, the question barely audible.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice strained. "And now that you know, I want to hear you do the same."

My hand hovered over the phone, the realization of what was happening making my skin crawl with a mix of excitement and apprehension. "Heeseung," I breathed, "we can't..."

"Why not?" he pressed, the rustling now unmistakable. "You know how much I want you, Y/N. And now I know you want this too."

I bit my lip, the heat between my legs growing unbearable. "Okay," I said finally, my voice shaking. "Tell me what to do."

Heeseung's breathing grew heavier, the sound of his hand moving rhythmically over his cock growing louder. "Take off your panties," he instructed, his voice a gruff whisper. "Let me hear you."

I obeyed, my heart racing as I slid my underwear down my legs and tossed them aside. "They're off," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice a dark purr. "Now, I want you to touch yourself. Just like I'm doing to myself right now."

My hand tentatively made its way down my body, my fingers brushing against my sensitive folds. "Like this?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Mmhmm," he encouraged, his own breathing now erratic. "Now, tell me, are you wet for me?"

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. "Yes," I admitted, my fingertips slipping through my arousal.

"Fuck," he groaned. "I knew it. You're such a slut for me, aren't you?"

The words stung, but the sensation of his degradation only served to excite me further. "Yes," I whimpered, my hand moving faster.

"Say it,"

"What?"

"Say that you're my slut," Heeseung demanded, his voice growing more urgent with each stroke.

I hesitated for a moment before giving in to the delicious dirty talk. "I'm your slut, Heeseung."

The sound of his hand moving over his shaft grew quicker, his breathing more ragged. "That's it," he said, his voice a harsh whisper. "Now, tell me, are you going to come for me?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "I'm going to come," I said, my voice quivering with need.

"I want to hear it," he said, his voice a low growl. "I want to know how my words make you feel."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation of my own touch and the sound of his breathing in my ear. "I'm going to come," I murmured, my hips rocking into my hand.

"Come for me," Heeseung urged, his voice strained. "Come for your best friend, you dirty little whore."

The words pushed me over the edge, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. I cried out, the sound echoing through the room and down the phone line to him.

For a few moments, we were both silent, lost in the aftermath of our shared pleasure. Then, Heeseung spoke again, his voice slightly hoarse. "Again," he ordered.

I opened my eyes, my hand still working my sensitive flesh. "What?"

"Come again," he said, his voice firm. "I want to hear you scream my name."

I took a deep breath, my body already responding to his command. "Okay," I whispered, my voice a breathless moan.

Heeseung's voice grew more demanding, his instructions more explicit. "Faster," he said, his own breathing erratic. "Imagine my cock inside you, filling you up."

I whimpered, my hand moving in time with his voice. The second orgasm began to build, my toes curling with the intensity of it.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice tight. "Take it all."

I moaned, my body bowing off the bed as I climaxed again, my name leaving his lips in a guttural shout.

As the tremors subsided, I realized with a start that my cheeks were wet with tears. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice concerned.

"Nothing," I lied, my voice thick with emotion. "It's just... it's never been like this before."

He chuckled, the sound low and intimate. "It's just the beginning," he said. "We're going to have a lot more of these moments, Y/N."

The call ended, leaving me lying in a tangled mess of sheets, my body still pulsing with pleasure. The line between friendship and something darker had been crossed, and there was no going back.

[localcanadiancreature62]

Dipper and Mabel vs the Past au (title is a reference to an actual episode in the show) - Timestuck style au where instead of ending up in the time period where the Oregon Trail was being used in The Time Traveler's Pig,Dipper and Mabel end up 30 years into the past and end up uncovering secrets about their Grunkle Stan like WAYYYY earlier than they're supposed to (time travelers pig is s1,not what he seems is s2. they discover things Very Early in the timeline here). Mabel ends up with Ford,Dipper ends up with Stan. Now i know the usual portrayal of this au is "the kids being with their favorite grunkles" but i wanted to do something different cuz i LOVE exploring the dynamics of Dipper with Stan and Mabel with Ford sooo bad. I'm thinking this is set like... Paranoia Ford era aka the events culminating to Stan receiving the postcard,so basically Ford has literally just lost his best friend and also almost had his fucking tendons snapped and now he has to deal with a child who is apparently his great niece in the future while simultaneously protecting the child from Bill,Ford has a lot on his plate lmaooo.

Meanwhile Mullet Stan is down on his luck as he lives in his shitty rundown apartment while trying to avoid Rico due to owing him money that he currently doesn't have,he's miserable as ever and then a child with a hat as well as a striking resemblance to his brother suddenly appears in his car when he was out shoplifting groceries,having to take care of it when he can barely take care of himself. Angst and hurt/comfort + a few wholesome moments ensue. Ford finds himself getting attached to his young niece even when he's incredibly highstrung and feels that he can't trust anyone right now,seeing that such a bright and caring soul is worth trusting. Mabel eventually finds out about Bill after the bastard possesses Ford while she was trying to give him a better sleep schedule,and the girl makes it her mission to protect her other grunkle (like i said. they figure things out way early here) from that bastard after realizing that this pointy jerk wants to hurt him as evident from the fork stabbing and Ford's journal pages regarding him being tormented by Bill (bro the funniest thing is that Bill doesn't even appear yet in this current part of the timeline lmaoo. like dreamscapers happens WAYYY AFTER the time traveler's pig. so Mabel basically just saw a triangle dude that she knows nothing about and has never met and decided that she needs to fight for her life to protect Ford from him despite ALSO not knowing anything about her other grunkle either). Mabel helps Ford slowly get himself back together as Bill is biding his time to eventually get the portal started again one way or another,meaning that Bill is too busy planning things out to torment Ford,thus Mabel chooses self care for her Grunkle Ford and makes it his problem, trying to force Ford to get out of the house for groceries or at least give him a few minutes to touch grass rather than being cooped up in his dumb dork lab all day making him shower giving him a better sleep schedule and even making cupcakes for him so he can eat things besides moldy cheese or strange tasting alien cow milk (reference to that one real life journal 3 page with the weird cow). Ford is actually very shocked and touched by this gesture,because he has been spending weeks all by himself while being actively tortured without anyone by his side but now this girl suddenly makes his life a little brighter and he thanks her for that,despite him being strict snappy and moody most of the time due to being stressed from Bill and the portal (i can't really blame him for feeling that way. i too would feel my sanity slipping as the looming threat of the apocalypse going to be eventually caused by my former muse is getting nearer and nearer while said muse is also torturing me 24/7 all while juggling self care and research and taking care of a whole child to top it all off),bro is close to tears when he realizes that he's not alone after all and that he doesn't HAVE to be alone,and that he actually needs someone rather than not needing people like what he said,i.e "I don't need you. I don't need anyone!" and Mabel is right there to help him. Mabel ends up wearing 80s clothes as well as stops using her phone in public in order to not draw suspicion after Ford pointed out that people would get pretty confused by her glowing shoes and "advanced flip phone",meanwhile Ford tries to figure out how to find the time tape that the girl speaks of as he starts to study time travel and relearn the laws of time in order to help Mabel as he plans on possibly building a makeshift time machine to replace the tape in the case that they never find it.

So far Mabel is doing pretty well despite having to deal with her snappy Grunkle Ford and the fact that her Grunkle Stan was lying about her and Dipper being the only family he has left as well as the fact that she actively has to ignore every trick that Bill pulls on her including possession by using unicorn hair that is now a hair extension on her own hair (early discovery) while also trying to not die/get grievously injured at the hands of Bill or Bill possessed Ford and ALSO greatly missing her brother who is nowhere to be found as she can't find a way home to her time as she begins to experience literally disappearing very slowly as a result of a time paradox of her being in a time before she was even born,what fun! :D.

Dipper however,has worse problems to deal with than a demon triangle and a snappy Grunkle. He has to deal with being homeless and being even MORE anxious/guarded than he already was due to the fact that his Grunkle Stan's enemies could jump him any moment. He has to be Stan's accomplice in committing crimes like shoplifting or pickpocketing people for food and money. The fact that Stan is a criminal and that he has to commit crimes with the risk of getting caught or worse,killed by his Grunkle's old "friends" puts a lot of weight on the poor boy,and he was anxious as is with him generally being highstrung and now he has EVERY reason to be afraid due to him being a runaway criminal with Stan. Although having to live a hard life and commit difficult crimes even when it's wrong ended up toughening Dipper up,showing that dealing with the hard and fast life boosted his confidence tenfold. Dipper actually feels bad for his Grunkle Stan,even when the guy kept making fun of him back then (i.e Dipper vs manliness and the bottomless pit stories),as he had NO IDEA that his Grunkle lived like this before. So he makes sure to be as helpful and as less of a burden as possible,just to make his Grunkle Stan happy. Heck,he even becomes protective of his Grunkle despite his weak nerd arms and he has gotten injured for the grifter's sake multiple times such as the time he got a lot of scrapes and bruises from trying to rescue Stan from falling in a ditch as he ended up falling himself instead. Stan is glad to have a little buddy around him,especially when the kid is his future nephew and thus family,since he's been suffering all by himself for so long and he really appreciates the company. He really wishes that he could help Dipper regarding the whole time tape situation,but only Ford could know what to do as he's too dumb to understand time travel (Stan ur inferiority complex is showing). So he figures that the only way he could help is to just watch out for a weird looking tape measure with an hour glass symbol on it and steal it immediately from whoever has it (the time tape has actually ended up with Blendin after he used a spare time tape to look for the other one that the kids have [he needs to return those. he'll get in trouble for losing a single one],and he's been looking for the children for a while so that he could bring them back to their own time as their very presence in the 80s is a time anomaly and thus he wants to fix it before he gets in trouble with the time police).

Dipper ALSO forces Stan to take care of himself,although to a lesser extent than Mabel with Ford. He doesn't do any heavy duty self care work,but he more so reminds Stan to consider himself too whenever they have food or beds to share instead of just letting him have everything and sacrificing the little stability he already has for the kid. Dipper also tries to give them a better lifestyle at some point by convincing Stan to rent a house and also steal wads of cash from an ATM just to give him a taste of a normal life again since he feels bad for his Grunkle having to sleep in his car or a shitty apartment all the time,Stan literally cries from this gesture as he's so happy to have someone besides Ford finally care about him after 10 years of being alone. He discovers that he doesn't have to be alone and push people away despite wanting someone to care so bad,as Dipper is there to help him.

The two happily live in the rented house for a few weeks until they the landlord kicked them out for not paying rent and then they had to make a run for it. Sometimes,being with Dipper physically pains Stan because of how much he reminds him of Ford. He has the same bright curiosity and thirst for knowledge that his brother had,the same innocence and happiness that Ford had before everything happened. Stan missing Ford is so evident to the point of him occasionally calling the kid "Poindexter" because of how much the boy reminds him of his twin. Dipper finds out about Ford sooner or later because of this,plus he ends up discovering the old picture of Stan and Ford in front of the Stan o' War in his Grunkle's jacket.

He gets angry at the future old Stan for never telling him about his brother and that he had another Grunkle,but he soon realizes why after young Stan explains the whole ordeal he has with Ford regarding the science fair incident. Stan himself points that out too. "What the- You- You had a brother this whole time?!. How come your future self never told me about this?!. What other things is he hiding?. Ugh." "Well,kid. If i know myself,i wouldn't go around telling everyone about the drama i have with my brother y'know?. Especially when it still hurts *sniff*." "What?. What do you mean 'drama'?. Actually,is that the reason why you're living like this and you don't ask him for help?." "Uhh.. You see,my brother is a stubborn jerk. So stubborn that he decided to go to college instead of staying with me. And he let Dad kick me out because of what?. Breaking his dumb perpetual motion machine project?." Stan says in frustration as the resentment is oozing with his every word,as he still doesn't forgive Ford for what he did even with how much he misses him. "Oh.. That's awful. I don't really know the full scope of what happened between you two,but i can say that it's that bad considering that you ended up living on the streets soon after." "Ya think?. As far as i'm concerned,that nerd is living it up in a normal house with his dumb college money instead of sleeping out in a car all the damn time." "And kid,there's a reason why the older me didn't tell you anything. Whatever happens to us in the future,that bastard STILL didn't talk to me about our problems. As him- er me not talking about it means that the resentment is still simmering inside." "Ah,figures. I guess you really are Grunkle Stan instead of some random dumb hobo with how wise you are." "Can it Dippy. I wasn't the one crying over losing a hat yesterday." "Hey!. I- It's my signature accessory,i can't go without it" "Yeah yeah whatever". Also,Dipper and Mabel greatly miss the other. The kids' determination to get back to their twin no matter what cost reminds their respective Stans that they used to be like that too back then,always prioritizing their twin over everything else.

Mabel always makes little doodles of her and Dipper's adventures together in her new 80s scrapbook which Ford catches her doing,meanwhile Dipper rambles about how fun and supportive Mabel is to Stan whenever they have a break from being on the run. Stan feels conflicted over letting the boy constantly talk about how great his sister is when his own sibling is a good for nothing bastard but it also makes him think that maybe he and Ford can be like that again sometime whenever he finally gets the courage to call him or send a postcard to him,Ford on the other hand ignores Mabel's Dipper doodles and occasional rambles about her brother while making an excuse about him being "too busy" to hear about it despite the real reason being that he's too angry at Stan to keep being reminded of the fact that they used to be as close as his future niece and nephew. Both younger twins realize that they NEED to get their Grunkles to talk to each other since it's painful to see a set of siblings like them hate each other so much,especially when they're family, although Mabel is more insistent about it than Dipper due to the fact that Stan has bigger fish to fry than making up with his brother plus the girl is more optimistic than her brother who thinks that Stan and Ford's relationship is broken beyond repair and that there's no hope for them. But getting their Grunkles talk to each other is a job for another time,as they still have to find each other and also find the time tape as well as blend into the 80s until they get back.

(i made this au forever ago. but i forgot to finish it until like November or show it to anyone until now 💀)

[pseudophan]

“Don’t talk to me like that!!” The way I can just imagine their heated arguments in my head now LMAO very old married couple. Anyways period Phil, you tell him 😤😤

i'm obsessed with this insight into their arguments cause like.. both sides make so much sense bsdhjkfbskj personally i'm definitely phil, like sorry if i'm rolling my eyes or making a snarky comment that's NOT cause for you to start an argument sorry, it wasn't that deep and you should get over it. you're making it into a way bigger deal than it has to be. no i'm not disrespecting you, you're just taking everything super personally. omgggg get over it. etc etc etc. sorry i'm very annoying to have an argument with and evidently so is phil

genuinely though if i was to analyse this from a very very personal perspective that's definitely biased towards phil cause we seem to be on the same page - i think what happens is essentially, somehow someone says something that the other doesn't agree with, or otherwise in some way shape or form there's a discussion happening, they clearly don't agree on a topic, and dan is very determined and opinioned about something phil doesn't rly care about, and so phil, just wanting this to be over with, gets kinda bitchy about it, right? idk what he'd actually say but let's say he's like okay! since you're always right! sure! and he genuinely doesn't mean it that seriously, like he just wants to move on and he doesn't care all that much about the actual argument at hand. however dan DOES care that much, or rather he might not have been until phil was like Ok Since You Have To Be Correct Always, so now he's like. okay? bitch? fuck you? and phil is like omg. not that serious. i don't care. sorry. it was an offhand comment. and dan is like.. no please, elaborate.. and phil's like...... idgaf.......... but perhaps you have a tendency to sometimes. SOMETIMES. need to be right. and dan's like. no. and phil's like. yeah. and dan's like. . . .. . . no. and phil's like. ok no :) and dan's like >:( what are you saying. and phil's like ^_^ nothing <3 and then that continues for another like 45 minutes

my main point is i think a lot of their arguments stem from phil very seriously not thinking what they were talking about was all that serious whereas dan takes everything rather seriously, and so phil is like...... it just wasn't that deep.... and dan, unable to not see things That Deep, gets offended that phil isn't taking it as seriously. but phil genuinely just does not see it as a big deal. he's not trying to be rude they're just on different wavelengths when it comes to the topics at hand. yes this is based on every argument i've ever had why are you asking

[faecaribou]

on my knees asking for you to draw your interpretation of this

the whole team gets deaged by twenty years

most of them are a range of late teens to early thirties, but.

Scout and Sniper.

Spy gets a second chance at being Scout's dad + plus a bonus of raising Sniper too

Genuinely I could not get this out of my head. I spent hours on this and now literally every electronic i have is like at 4% battery and its 1 am. This is such a goated idea. Here are the mercs deaged, or what they would look like younger. I totally didnt have to google everyone's ages (visibly lying)

I feel like I did well with Heavy and Medic. They're the oldest in the group. Heavy when he was 26 was probably freshly dealing with escaping the gulag with his family. Visually I just got rid of his beard left him with the stubble though and gave him back his hair, which in the comics appears to be brown. For Medic, I think I spelt lisence wrong. Yeah there's a red line under it. Fuck. Whatever. I stole his muscles and also gave him back his hairline. Also, big glasses.

I'm going by age but I know what you want. Here's Spy. I wanted him to look as close to Scout as possible SO BAD but their noses are different and canonically his hair is much darker but I like to pretend the BLU Spy has that darker hair and RED Spy has more brown hair. Maybe someone's grandparents had blond hair (I swear I read a fic where Spy was like 'jeremy has my papas blond hair >m<') ANYWAY i dont think he's older than heavy and medic but also like. JEEZ. He just wanted to sleep with some MILFs or cougars he didnt expect children. L

The way that I'm actually obsessed with my own drawing for younger Engie. haiiiii. I feel like I would bump into him IRL on a college campus. Lowkey he reminds me of someone but I dont even know who.

I don't have much to say for Soldier and Pyro. I was getting some conflicting reports on Soldier's age so I just put him in the middle of the conflicting reports. He's probably already started his uh. killing rampage in Germany. I just deaged Pyro and left him in the same outfit because I dont actually have a fan design for Pyro outside the suit.

I gave Demoman the kilt and sash that his father's wearing in this one scene in the comics where there was like. A family photo of the DeGroot family. I definitely didnt study every single image of younger Demo in the comics. ha. ha. If I spent a million hours on just this drawing of Tav.

Side note, your ask totally reminded me of this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/60095656 which is all the mercs deaged by like 25 years and Scout is literally like a year old and its great and I definitely did not leave 8 million comments on this fic (stares off into the distance)

I accidentally drew Sniper looking too young (right-most drawing) but honestly the smile with the missing tooth gave me life. aaaahhhh He really shouldve been drawn with a hat since he's out there in Australia but oops. I gave him his mullet back <3maybe he should be 7

finally, Jeremy. I definitely didn't originally decide he was 5 and then for the sake of my sanity when I think of Spy's agechange it to 4. Yeah

Heavy's too busy helping his mom raise his sisters. Don't give Medic kids. So yeah it's up to Spy to step up and take care of Mick alongside Jeremy.

Okay I think I will eventually reblog this post with more art but for right now I'm done with drawing and just going to type endless paragraphs and over nonsense thoughts

okay so they get de-aged. how??? i could take a page out of that fic i recommended and blame magic/merasmus. I feel like Respawn Machine malfunction is a pretty common trope for de-aging just one guy in fics but imagine it malfunctioned and now they're all de-aged. damnnnnn they lost that battle against BLU hard AND this happened? L

I imagine it's like. Logically they know who they are, they know each other, they know their jobs. But also it kinda feels like yesterday they were off in Russia/Australia/German/Boston doing their own things. The younger 3 are especially having this problem. No one's sure if Pyro understands whats going on.

They're all in their red team merc outfits btw for Pyro's sake. But for the drawings they've taken like. their weapons off and gotten in clothes that either fit better or are more comfortable.

Medic is all like "ooooh! interesting >:3" and definitely wants to open SOMEONE up but he's scaring the hoes (children) so him and Engineer kind of separate to go deal with the Respawn Machine. Engineer may have to call his dad for help at some point. He is going to hate it hahahahahaah >:)

Demoman and Soldier and Pyro are just like. Having the worlds most disjointed conversation. "ARE YOU AMERICAN?" "huddah huddah" "(super thick scottish accent)" no one is understanding anyone. Pyro pulls out paper and coloring pencils and they are just trying to furiously communicate through drawings

Scout is four and since he on some level remembers Spy as a kid when he's an adult, he definitely recognizes Spy as both his dad and as ...Spy. Cue crying.

Mick is kinda scared. He definitely tries to retreat to his camper van but no one's gonna let an 8 year old sleep out there by himself so he's resorted to hiding in his room on base, which he just kinda uses for storage, which is where he finds the slingshot. Anyone who opens the door to talk to him gets a rock to the face I don't make the rules. Okay well except for Scout he's not going to pelt a four year old with rocks. The mercs will use this hesitation to their advantage to get him

Spy takes his mask off. He doesn't want to, he doesn't like them looking at his face, it just makes Jeremy cry more, people are asking him how old he is, someone said he looks a lot like Scout.

He one-hundred percent sees this as like. His chance to actually be Jeremy's dad. He was too much of a coward the first time around and sometimes the guilt eats at him. Something something if Spy and Ma had a second child Spy would completely ignore Scout to fuss over the 2nd kid because it would be a clean slate that he hasn't ruined. WHAT WHO SAID THAT. Anyway the driving force that leads him to take his mask off and pick up that screaming kid is that this is his second chance. I imagine he got some practice in with some of Scout's brothers and with baby Scout so he's not the best dealing with a screaming 4 year old but he's not the worst.

After like. A few hours of getting Scout to calm down, they have now upgraded to Scout is really really quiet and visibly upset but he only screams and cries when Spy goes to grab him. Ultimately Jeremy thinks that they might get put back to normal and once he's older again Spy will abandon him again so he is NOT letting Spy pick him up without trying to bite him at least once. Spy is slowly earning his trust.

This is also the point where Spy realizes that Sniper is hiding in his room with the slingshot. After like 3 different mercs getting pelted with rocks in the face Spy realizes he has to step up and dad this kid too.

Scout sees Spy extend even one iota of patience or kindness toward Sniper and is torn between "oh he's actually trying" and "HES GOING TO CHOOSE SNIPER TO BE HIS SON INSTEAD OF ME"

wait I'm just creating more conflicts rather than resolving anything. fuck its 2 am. look the (he's not crying, YOU ARE!) hug drawing would be when Scout finally lets Spy give him a hug and it would be SO SATISFYING and the crowd stood up and clapped and after Jeremy starts hanging off of Spy like a limpet Spy also successfully gets Sniper to come out of the room. why did I write an entire plot am I going to write a fic. oh no please no I'm busy with the time travel noooooo

[the-pen-pot]

Have u ever thought about Arthur time travelling instead of Merlin?

Not one with just Arthur, no. Hiraeth almost entirely scratched my time travel itch. That said, I'm actually writing (slowly but enthusiastically) one called "What We Might Be where they both end up back at the start with all their memories intact. It's a huge amout of fun!

It's basically about how this time they work together and maybe find that golden age (and do it a lot sooner!) It's posting on my patreon very slowly right now, but you can read the first chapter here (warning for angst)

Here's the synopsis from my fic ideas page below the cut to spare you all!

I made this post on Tumblr and it did numbers (I was thinking 4 people would "hell yes" me, not 2000)

"Not me sitting here thinking about writing a fic where we start with Arthur dying in Merlin's arms after Camlaan and it's all tragedy and then the magic rises and they both end up back at that first day, in the marketplace, Merlin with "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" dying on his lips as they stare at each other, fascinated, horrified, so fucking relieved because they both remember ALL of it and none of it's happened yet and this time they can maybe make it to a different, better ending.

And they can do it together."

BUT TO EXPAND

I want to explore how Arthur and Merlin would interact with each other having lived in one another's pockets for ten years, only to be sent right back to the beginning while retaining everything they are to each other. Merlin's magic newly revealed from the confession by the lakeside. The two of them standing there with every mistake in their future rather than their past and realising that maybe "two sides of the same coin" means "you need to work together, dumbass".

I want the two of them shocked by how young the other is. How different Camelot seems from what they're used to. How harsh Uther looks now that they know it can be different (though not as different as it should be, Arthur realises.) I want them correcting their mistakes (and each other's mistakes) and taking all that they know of each other and rebuilding their relationship (all their relationships, actually) on that honesty.

And the others don't remember. Morgana is still Morgana, still struggling but still hoping to be saved. Mordred's just a boy.  Lancelot never sacrificed himself and it's so clear in Arthur's eyes that Gwen loved them both but that she loved Lancelot first and best with all her heart.

The knights end up at Camelot earlier simply because Arthur and Merlin set out to find them earlier. 

("We need Gwaine." "Do we? Really?" "Yes, you great prat. Come on.")

And so much more.

[100-gar]

Okay these thoughts are destroying my soul from the inside so lemme explain exactly why this page is fucking everything to me.

Stan's endlessly devoted to Xeno. He's proven this time and time again, he'd go to the ends of the earth and personally burn it all down just for this man.

They lost the fight. They were petrified again. It could have very easily been their last moments alive. But he wakes up, and the first thing he sees is Xeno, looking at him with those big, excited eyes, giving him a job. He's unsure what's happened while he was stone, how long Xeno's been awake without him, at the mercy of the KoS. But Xeno looks good. Healthy. Clearly, for however long he's been "captive," Xeno's been safe.

Stan's first move is to grab him. He's so gentle as he wordlessly checks him over for any sign of harm, but there's none. In fact, Xeno's got this earnest brightness Stan hasn't seen on him in thousands of years, back when they were kids. Maybe it's the change of scar, but he seems so much lighter now. They so clearly treated Xeno well, let him do his science and gave him a purpose, let him fulfill his passions. They gave him some of his hope back.

Of course Stan's going to take this mission. It's the least he can do after all they've put these kids through, and they still were so good kind to Xeno. He owes them this much. (Though, if Xeno asked him to, he probably would have gone right back to the war room. Bro's devoted.)

And like, on Xeno's side, the touch makes his expression change completely. He drops his guard just a bit, because oh my science did he miss Stan.

Xeno says nothing. He understands that Stan needs this moment, this confirmation. And he absolutely needs it to, he's missed Stan so much. Holding himself back from reviving Stan has obviously been painful. He's visited Stan's statue often, taken care of him, but he hasn't allowed himself to bring him back. Not yet. Maybe he knew it would be too tempting, and he wanted to ensure he followed these kids' pipe dream to the end before he gave in and went back to the world domination plan. But their dream became reality, and now he gets Stan back, and he just looks so happy oh my god. Gen was right, even though the scientists aren't the type to show it, Xeno and Stan's separation has been eating the dr up inside. Somewhere along the way he gave up on conquering the world and he just wanted to do science and solve this mystery and get his knight back.

And the way he's so devoted to Stan as well, showing it not with mushy flowery words but with how he showers him with gifts, makes sure he has everything he could ever want or need, just as long as he stays by Xeno's side. Xeno knows he's a weight on Stan's shoulders, so he makes up for it wherever he can, but to Stan it's not a burden, it's his life partner.

Bonus panel cuz i thought it was adorable

Look at Xeno's lil necktie! And he hasn't been able to give Stan makeup yet. Stan looks so fond i just!!! They're so good your honor they love each other so much.

[keeksandgigz]

Hey Keeks! So I was day dreaming while I was looking at my ring that has a Lilith sigil on it and now I’m thinking about Witchy giving Eddie something like it

Im mixing these two @rebelfell hehe here's a little vignette, for some reason Eddie doing crystal shop deliveries makes me think of Kronk. <3

Hope u enjoy!!

You pick up the phone attached to the wall.

"Genesis Records. Eddie speaking, what's up?" you smile as you imagine him leaning against the wall, holding the landline phone between his ear and shoulder as he gets a pen and paper to take notes in case it's some important shipment information.

"Ed, it's me" you huff out, and you can feel the smile from the other side of the receiver, he likes it when you call him at work, his heart picks up- maybe at the chance that he might have to sneak off upstairs into his apartment when you happen to have coordinated lunch breaks.

"Hey, witchy, I'm about to go on my lunch, I'll see you upstairs in five-" you're quick to interrupt him.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, I'm not on my lunch. I called you because I need your help" you're overwhelmed and don't seem to be in the mood for his shenanigans. You can sense his smile dropping immediately, a slow cast of concern washing over his face.

"What is it, baby?" his tone is suddenly muted, like a child that got scolded for talking too much from his teacher.

"We're understaffed. It's just me and Naradea right now, we need someone to do deliveries, we're incredibly backed up with them" You purse your lips together, hoping for a decisive 'yes' "I'll send you a list of addresses and I'll pay for gas and stuff, you just need to drive around town and deliver some packages- crystals, potions, the works" you huff out, half- stressed.

It takes him a second to think about it "Matt can cover me, I'll be over in a second lemme grab my truck and I'll meet you in the courtyard?" and you exhale a sigh of relief as he hangs up and gets his truck over to the back entrance of your store.

You run out, a couple small boxes in your hands "Thank you so much for doing this, I'll uh... make sure you're rewarded plenty tonight" you whisper against his cheek, placing a small kiss where the warm air of your breath hit.

He grows red at the seductive invitation, slightly growing somewhere else as well, unable to keep his head from reeling at the thought of what would be waiting for him tonight.

"Consider me intrigued" he smirks against your lips, taking the boxes from your hands and giving you a delicate kiss as he fills up the back of his truck with boxes.

You show him a clipboard with the names of the witches and their addresses "See, you've got Arla on Lombard, Clemensia on Castro, Athena and Arachne both on Third street and so on. They should be placed in order so you don't have to go back and forth around the city" you point at the purple colored page.

"Am I gonna get hit on by any of these ladies, 'cause if I am you gotta warn me- can't be too charming if they're trying to fuck me" he snickers, you hit him on the arm "ow," he moans.

"'Kay then" you take off your ring, the one with the sigil of Lilith that sits on your middle finger "give me your pinky, this will tell them that you're already spoken for"

You slip the ring on his pinky finger "Witchy if you wanted to propose to me this is a weird way to do it, y'know?" he laughs "Am I just cattle to you?" he moans dramatically as he gets in the car, rolling down his window.

"Cutest cattle I've ever seen" you scrunch your nose as you lean in the open window to give him a kiss "I'll see you tonight at mine?"

"You bet, and you can tell me more about that reward you were talking about" he smirks, puckering his lips for a kiss.

"I'll go home to sharpen my knives, then" you joke, biting your lip.

"Mmm, kinky" he caresses your forearm "See you tonight, gorgeous" he says, before driving off.

"Hello Ms. Arla, my name's Eddie I will be delivering your goodies for all your witchy needs today" he says, in his charming tone, as he watches the old lady reach into her pocket to give him a candy that seemed to be at least 50 years old. Grandmas are all the same after all.

"My god, Clemensia you look divine today" he flirts with a close friend of your aunt Hilda as she blushes and lightly smacks his arm. He offers her the box full of her deliveries "your witchy goodies m'lady" he bows and is not allowed to leave until he's had tea with her.

During his rounds he's offered treats, biscuits, readings of all kinds as he politely agrees, unable to say no to these nice ladies who all seem to know him by name.

His last delivery is someone named Aphra- he's never met her before, maybe a new addition to the 'witch community' as he calls it.

She ordered two boxes of stuff. He carries them up a steep flight of stairs and rings the doorbell.

Aphra isn't old, she isn't young- she looks ageless, and that, for some reason, scares Eddie.

"Lady- uh- Ms.- your witchiness- Aphra?" he stutters in a bout of embarrassment as he continues "my name's-"

"Edward. You're the young witch's human boyfriend" she hums "She got in a lot of trouble for allowing you to be a part of our world" He remembers you being deprived of your magic until your trial. Two months of seeing you mope around your apartment.

He wasn't sure what to say.

"Despite that you stuck by her, even through your bout of confusion. Let's call it you being... 'lost'" she snickers as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket, extracting a token made out of black metal.

"Bring this to your witch, as a token of my appreciation. Have a good evening, Edward" she brings the boxes inside with ease, and closes the door behind her.

He looks at the black token. Ridged with the sigil of the coven- three indented stars.

Eddie plays with it on the way to your house, rolling it on his leg, wondering what it might mean.

When he gets to your house, much to his dismay, he has to stop you from jumping on him. The curiosity is eating him alive. He shows you the black token, and all color seems to drain from your face.

"Holy shit" you utter "Holy shit!" a bit louder this time.

"Wha- what? What is it, witchy?" he asks, as you guide him on your purple couch. Your breath seems to be knocked from your lungs.

"Aphra is the head of the coven" you're playing with the indentations of the token, Eddie mentally cringes at the absolute shit first impression he made with what appears to be the madame president of all witches, or something like that.

"This token is her blessing" you have tears in your eyes, Eddie's still confused.

"Blessing for what?"

"Blessing to get married" you shrill, and Eddie's heart almost falls out of his ass.

[pinkgy]

PB is fucking things up, but there's hope, and here's why

During the past hours i've gave different opinions about this whole mess that's going on with What in Hell is Bad, but this is my final opinion.

Please, don’t attack me for “justifying” PrettyBusy, because I’m not, I already expect bad reactions because of this post.

I decided to write this because moments ago I checked the game's Reddit page and well, i already knew that many people has been quitting the game for various reasons, like the constant bugs and the lack of new content, but within the past hours this number increased significantly and almost every player of What in Hell is Bad that has some kind of presence in social media related to the game has spoken up about this, and i'm glad this is happening. For change to happen people needs to speak up, but i think that by know, PrettyBusy already knows it. I talked about this in a reblog i did some weeks ago, but i'll say this again, PrettyBusy is a business, a small one, but a business, and they have and can keep track of many things that are going on in the game, and by now, they probably noticed that they are losing players even without having to check what's going on in different social medias, and my hypothesis is that there's some internal issue going on for them to have so many unfulfilled promises and so many things that are lacking in the game. But i don't mean to say that we should be considerate, that's something that's up to every singular person.

They know about what's going on, and if you ask me, i believe that by the end of the day we will have an update from them explaining everything, Prettybusy may be fucking up many things right now, but they are really receptive and i think many of us have noticed that with the past issues, the last one being when they deleted the mission that involved using Nightmare coins during the past Nightmare Pass when many of us started to complain about it, they had no need to fix that because it wasn't an impossible mission, really hard i must admit, but not impossible, but they still did and compensated us later. And no, i'm not excusing PrettyBusy, I’m just trying to see the positive side out of this. PrettyBusy is being greedy, not event the biggest dating games have 40$ cards, or even content that is worth that amount of money, and for a game that doesn't even have a year since it's release that is absolutely inconsiderate, my theory is that they noticed that those overly expensive cards were actually being sold by players so they thought that if they released others, the same would happen and the F2P players would just ignore it and keep playing, and they ended up making a mistake by saturating the game with paid content and neglecting those parts of the game that are actually important, the Main Story and the Organic Players. And surprisingly, this is a common mistake many companies do, but they usually end up fixing it, because at the end of the day, us, Organic Players of What in Hell is Bad are the best promotion for the game, or any game in question since this example can be used for many other situations, a singer can have the biggest billboards, the best music, the most expensive commercials, but the fans are always going to remain as the best promotion they could have EVER, and if they don't have fans, they won't be successful. And if me, a normal 19 year old college student can realize this, i'm sure a COMPANY, a BUSINESS, can definitely do it way better and quicker too. No game wants to lose players, yes, they're earning 40$ for selling those cards, but they’re losing waaaaay more by losing F2P players, and summarizing the last tho paragraphs, PrettyBusy needs us because we are money.

It makes me really sad to see many players lose interest in the game, and if any of you care, I'm not leaving, at least not for the time being, i know it sounds dumb to see the positive side of everything that's going on (Because it's definitely not positive at all) but i will keep doing it, I like the game but that doesn't mean I'm going to justify what PrettyBusy is doing, and I think that's a valid opinion.

To conclude this, I’m going to gaslight myself into thinking that PrettyBusy isn't dumb and they do know that what they're doing it's wrong, and they will search for a way to fix this as soon as possible, and if you think this is impossible, read again this post because that's the whole purpose of it. I hope I'm right, but if I'm not, then I’ll try to stay optimistic until they fuck it up again.

If you want to mail PrettyBusy complaining about this, I'm really glad you are! I'm working on a mail too, I recommend you read THIS post before you do it, and please, remain respectful.

Thank you so much for reading this long-ass post! I'll gladly accept any addition to this post or any comment, but please remain respectful, and remember, this is a personal opinion, I'm also a F2P player, and believe me when I say that I'm as mad as you are about this but I just have my own point of view of it.

[spiritsglade]

for the character ask game i would loooove to hear you go off about essence :))

[character ask game!!]

oh birdie you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent this in didn't you.

My first impression

I think I probably ran into her first in fic but I don't actually remember anything in that regard. First impression with the comic was that this was a character with a pretty design but somewhat... confusing of a storyline.

My impression now

God her canon portrayal is so annoying and inconsistent I SWEAR. Jason and her misunderstanding and misinterpretating what's going on and immediately jumping to kill each other has happened EVERY TIME and what is the point!!! Her backstory and motivations are so opaque and the flashbacks to their time together in the All-Caste keep on dangling the promise of an interesting story in front of me and then not delivering. Lobdell and Tynion IV when I GET YOU--

However I've thought about her too much and now I have brainworms. She is the side character I have adopted as my own. I understand her better than her creators ever will <3 (I have extrapolated a lot of conclusions from like 3 panels out of all her appearances. It is working out for me.)

Favorite thing about that character

The concept for her character. Particularly as a daughter to Ducra and one of the original Untitled. The fact she's been banished from the All-Caste apparently for not being willing to give up her "dark powers" when Ducra did? That's so interesting to me. It could be such a good parallel to how Jason's moral code causes a rift between him and Bruce. Tell me more. Lobdell you will surely explore this further, won't you? Lobdell aren't you gonna-- LOBDELL

Least favorite thing

Can I complain about Lobdell again. I will not. Instead I will complain about how her little like... intro narration box? You know the thing where comics will give you a little line to tell you who a character is if you don't know them already. Hers is that she's the "last human descendant of the All-Caste" which is just WRONG? She is the DAUGHTER OF THE UNTITLED. She is like, objectively not human at this point. JASON is the last human descendant of the All-Caste, maybe. Y'know, the first human they've taken in in over a century and the first in millennia to survive a cleansing? Y'know, that guy?? Also she literally reinstated the All-Caste at this point in the timeline why are we calling her the last human descendant. She's literally they're leader right now. I'm so mad I'm so mad I'msofmkgekmreklgm

Also I really don't like that her Blood Blades draw only the blood of the guilty or whatever like it does to Artemis in RH:O #45. Or the whole capturing souls thing in #35. I hate it I hate it I hate it girl please go back to fighting people with your smoke magic.

Favorite line/scene

I overall think the scene in RH:O #35 was bad but I do particularly like her lines here.

I have never wanted to lead the All-Caste... I am a soldier. Heart and soul.

Oh girl. Girl you are never escaping the legacy of your mother. Ignore the fact that Ducra is literally still alive even though we established that she died in the first issue and her ghost vanished back in RHatO v1 #27 I'm not mad.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

Her fight with Kori in RHatO v1 #22

I think using Tamaranean tech like this is very clever!! Essence is immortal, ancient, and very powerful, but alien tech was also a weakness for her back in Issue #7 and I think that's a nice touch.

Also the fact that Kori literally summoned her to try to talk and help Jason and they end up trying to kill each other for several pages is so funny to me. Like. In the next volume Essence also fights Artemis and possesses Isabel like... girl are you jealous that he's seeing other women? Is that what this is?

I think the thing with the amnesia arc where all of Jason's friends were trying to help him from different angles and with incomplete information and in the process fucked over each other's attempts forever could have been really interesting if written well.

Close runner-up:

Right before this Essence says:

We need to talk, Mother. About the great darkness that looms over all that lives. About a mistake you must at long last rectify.

It's giving the "I think we're gonna have to kill that guy" meme to me. And that was entertaining. These are the depths I need to sink to find hope.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

ISABEL ARDILA. Genuinely fucking impressive that Lobdell managed to write them literally sharing the same body and have them not interact at all. I don't even know how he did it. He deserves an award. How does Isabel feel about this arrangement? How does Essence feel?? Like Issy you chose on purpose to pick up the sword again and keep letting Essence use your body in RH:O #49. Let's talk about that--no we're not going to? We have to move on and do Duela's arc and Red Hood: The Hill now? Oh. Oh okay. That's fine then.

Anyway I think they could turn the bodysharing into a beautiful symbiotic relationship if they tried. Essence/Isabel as a ship is slept on I swear.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

Jerboa III/Boa from Wings of Fire. Her mother (Jerboa I) was an animus (basically a dragon that can do whatever magic except raise the dead) who created her and then basically kept editing her personality and existence for like 2,000 years so she could have the ideal daughter. Obviously this is very fucked up. Eventually Boa catches onto this, betrays Jerboa I and kills her, but not before Jerboa I curses her. We don't talk about what happened to Jerboa II. (We know that she "went wrong" and Jerboa I "disposed of" her.)

Do you see the vision. Ducra implanting "pure life" in Essence's body. Banishing her when Essence railed against what Ducra wanted for her. Essence's entire life being dedicated to this fight against the Untitled. Like we are very much getting into headcanon territory with Essence when I make this connection but Boa manages to escape her mother and also the entire fucked up legacy of animus magic and I think that is lovely for her. Manifesting that for Essence.

She's also Hornet from Hollow Knight just a little bit. To me.

A headcanon about that character

She is more headcanon than actual canon substance to me at this point. Um. She has mommy issues re: Ducra. Her banishment from the All-Caste was because Essence refused to purge the "dark magic" (The essence of the Well of Sins she carried in her, the bond that tied her to the other Untitled that Ducra had long cleansed from herself.) They'd been having disagreements since the beginning of time that just happened to be what finally made it boil over. I'm still a little vague on this but I think Ducra setting up the All-Caste and the truce with the Untitled had some long term negative consequences for the world (like how in RHatO #5 the Untitled in Middleton, Colorado had the townspeople under its thrall). Essence doesn't want to spend the rest of eternity waiting for the day the Untitled inevitably decide to take over the world, but Ducra is all 'this is your duty' about it. Also remember that the Untitled are Ducra's siblings and Essence's aunts/uncles.

Anyway Jason's admittance into the All-Caste was the trigger for Essence acting out against Ducra properly for the first time. Him being this fresh new perspective so hellbent on vengeance really helped her realize that she wanted more from her life than to be another soldier in Ducra's war against her siblings.

Do you see the parallels I'm shoving in here between her and Jason. I am just saying.

A song that reminds of that character

Alas I must expose myself as a non-music listener. I'm sorry. Random Gods from the Rain World soundtrack that's the best I can do.

An unpopular opinion about that character

Honestly I don't think anyone cares about her enough for there to be popular opinions but uhh. I think this panel is incorrect about her and Jason's relationship.

Boy and girl are always there for each other.

Are they? Are they??? God I wish they were. Goddammit.

Anyway. I think Essence building the All-Caste was actually the most boring fucking direction to take her character but I can't even be that mad because she was barely a coherent character to begin with. However, her recruiting for the All-Caste... where the fuck is she gonna get these recruits for this secret old as time warrior monk sect?? Why exist at all when all the Untitled are allegedly wiped out (i.e. the entire reason the All-Caste existed in the first place)?? Escape from the shadow of your family's legacy come onnn Essence you can do it I believe in you!!! AUGH.

Favorite picture

Shoutout to RH:O #35 for having some really pretty panels of her.

ANYWAY THAT'S IT FOLKS. If you actually read all of my inane ramblings, um. Thanks! I'm normal about Essence.

[user2772636]

Moon River

(And me)

No matter how annoying, rude, or diabolical he is, he's still Angus Tully, your best friend and the boy you've been in love with since you learned how to.

Angus Tully x Reader

Warnings: swearing

Moon River - Frank Ocean (Cover)

"I wanna go to Boston."

Angus Tully was a wildcard. He's rude. He doesn't think before he speaks. He can be a hell of a pain in the ass. One second, he's quiet and all by himself in a corner, then the next he's spewing out words from his mouth that'll make you wish you were currently six feet under.

But he's really thoughtful. All those times he spends by himself, he thinks. About life. About school. About people. How we came from where we're from. How we breathe air and feel the soil in our feet.

No matter how many failed classes, how many times he was set back, Angus Tully is a smart boy with loads of potential. You just wish he saw himself that way.

"Why?" You ask, flipping the magazine between your fingers.

You were almost the exact opposite of Angus.

You studied hard, aiming for Ivy League schools and doing as much extracurricular activities as you could. You prioritised school, your work, your reputation. You rarely get in trouble, only getting called in offices for the reports you've sent.

So, why out of all the people in Barton, the only girl there ends up being his closest friend?

To put it simply; when you heard about Barton accepting girls for the new school year, you wanted to go. One, because, as your mother said, "It would do your reputation good for being a part of the first batch of girls in Barton," and two, because your best friend Angus Tully studied there.

Yes, you got in the school. Yes, you're part of the first batch of girls in Barton ever. What they didn't mention was the fact you were the only girl in Barton.

"You know why."

Angus's dad was put in a hospital after something happened in their home. Apparently, he was sick. At least, that's what Angus's mom said.

"We can't exactly leave. Hunham's gonna kill you." You finally put your magazine down, folding the corner of the page you were in to bookmark it.

"Not unless he doesn't find out."

"You know for a fact he'll find out."

"He'll find out too late. I know that for a fact."

You roll your eyes, sighing. You shuffle to your side of the bed to his. You pushed both your beds together. The excuse Angus used was that it gets cold at night. You didn't really mind.

You settle your head on his chest, arm wrapping around his slender waist. You exhale deeply when his arm lowers to rub your back. It felt nice in moments like this; The dark room illuminated by the orange hue of a streetlight outside. The wind howling and blowing snowflakes towards the west.

"I know it sucks we didn't get to go with those guys to ski, but they're jerks anyway. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you." You tuck your head into his neck, closing your eyes as your tiredness encapsulates you, as well as the warmth of Angus's hold.

"Well, we're not exactly doing that." Angus clicks his tongue. "Wish it was just me and you. No Mary, and no stupid fucking walleye."

You groan. "You gotta stop calling him that. He seems to be trying his best, even when his "best" is annoying." Angus adjusts underneath you, lying both of you down and draping a blanket over your bodies.

"Yeah, whatever." He relaxes onto the bed, eyes closing as well. His breathing is still manual, you can tell he can't sleep just yet. There's something in his mind.

"Angus... you okay?" He moves a bit, arm still wrapped around you. He doesn't answer right away, but when he does, his voice is a bit strained.

"Don't you ever get tired of me? Even just a little?" You wouldn't have heard him if it weren't for your proximity right now. You stay still.

"Of course I get tired of you. Almost all the time." He scoffs when you giggle a bit. You open your eyes and peek up at him, seeing a small smile on his face.

From the light that barely lit the room, you could see his eyes were glassy. You sit upright, cupping his face. His hand goes up to hold one of your wrists, his cheek leaning into your touch.

"How do you put up with me?" He sniffles, leaning his head down. "I can't even put up with myself sometimes."

There was only one answer to his question. You knew well in your heart what it was. Maybe it was time to tell him.

"Angus." You whisper, caressing his face your thumb. "Look at me."

He looks up, eyes a bit damp from tears. You wipe them away gently, keeping your eyes locked on his pretty brown ones.

"You're my best friend, Angus. But I see you more than that." You can see the emotions shift on his face, but he stays quiet, so you continue.

"I'm serious about what I said. I'd rather spend my entire Christmas with you. Over anybody in the world." You smile softly, taking your hands off his face to hold on his own.

"I'd also spend spring break with you, summer, the weekends. It's gotten to the point that I'd spend the rest of my life with you."

"The thing is, I'm never gonna leave. No matter how annoyed I am, no matter how fed up. Because I love you, Angus. I've loved you ever since I learned how to. And I learned from you."

He only stays quiet after. You're afraid you said the wrong things. Maybe you shouldn't have told him that. He's simply staring off into space, eyes glued on you. You try to take your hands back.

"Wait." Angus says. He keeps his eyes on you. There's this spark in them, and you can't tell what it is. You've only ever seen it in times like this; when you're alone with him.

This is a lot more different, though. There was so much intensity that-

His lips felt plump against yours. They were so soft. You could even somehow taste the pink in them. You couldn't get enough.

The moment you lean in, his hands cup your cheeks, just like you did to him moments ago. You bet he could feel how warm they were.

He tilts his head to kiss you more, adding a bit of force that just highlights his hunger.

Your hand finds his lap, and you rest them there. He pulls away, hovering a centimetre off your lips. You feel the way he breathes against you.

"If you wanted to take my pants off, just ask." He laughs, trying to ease the heat of the room.

You lean in just a bit, lips brushing. He tries to lean in too, but you pull away only slightly.

"If you wanted to kiss me, just ask." It was your turn to laugh as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, can I kiss you again?"

You didn't even need to say a word. A curt nod was enough for him to go back to kissing you silly.

A best friend is someone you hold dearly in your heart. Your best friend is already far above that.

The love you hold for someone close is something you never let go of. You can make a choice of holding that feeling a little while longer or giving it to them with everything in your being. Trust me when I say the second option is better.

HOLA CHICAS I FINALLY WROTE SMTH FOR ANGUS!!! If u followed me way b4 yk i was talking abt this man and saying how them white boys r ruining me (tbh they still are but im not complaining) i love this boy sm I WANT HIM SOOOOOO BAD UGHH. Anw this is short asf but its all i got for now 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ HOPE U GUYS LIKED IT!!!