#i have started on backgrounds but they look a bit shit so far so i removed them for this hehe

[cozmowrites]

Hidden Among the Shadows

arranged marriage au

====

The faint hum of the heater filled the spacious living room of the apartment. It was modern but lacked warmth, much like its current occupants. Bakugou Katsuki sat at the far end of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the wall as though it had personally offended him.

You sat across from him, perched on the edge of an armchair, hands folded neatly in your lap. The silence between you stretched thin, so taut it felt like it might snap at any moment.

Your eyes darted to the steaming cup of tea on the coffee table. You'd made it for him as soon as you arrived, desperate to do something to ease the tension. But he hadn't touched it.

"I..." You started, voice soft and barely above a whisper. You felt your cheeks heat up as his crimson eyes flicked toward you, sharp and unyielding. "I'm sorry if the tea isn't to your liking."

Bakugou's eyebrow twitched. "What the hell are you apologizing for?"

You flinched slightly at his tone, your fingers clutching the fabric of your skirt. "I— I just... thought—"

"Stop," he cut you off, leaning forward with a sigh of frustration. "You didn't do anything wrong, so quit saying sorry for every little thing. It's annoying."

Your gaze dropped to your lap, and you nodded quickly. "S-sorry..."

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "This is gonna be a pain in the ass."

You bit the inside of your cheek, the words stinging even though you had expected them. You knew Bakugou wasn't thrilled about this arrangement—neither were you, if you were honest with yourself. But this was the hand you'd been dealt.

Your families had decided this was for the best. A strategic alliance, they called it. Your quirk, Umbra Manipulation, allowed you to control and solidify shadows, an ability that paired well with Bakugou's explosive quirk. Together, they said, you'd have powerful children. You thought quirk marriages were old fashion, but your parents didn't care.

Not that you had any desire to become a hero. You weren't like Bakugou—confident, brash, and full of fire. You preferred the quiet, the background, where you could avoid conflict and simply exist.

But that wasn't an option anymore.

"Hey." His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to find him staring at you, a scowl etched into his face. "You always this quiet?"

You hesitated, unsure if he wanted an answer or if the question was rhetorical. When his eyes narrowed, you quickly nodded. "Y-yes."

"Tch. Great," he muttered, leaning back against the couch. "This is gonna be real fun."

You shifted uncomfortably, the urge to apologize bubbling up again, but you bit it back. Instead, you tried to focus on the room around you. The apartment was clearly his, with minimal decorations and a stark, utilitarian design. Simple, modern. The only personal touch was a shelf lined with All Might memorabilia that you'd think would be kept in his room.

"You don't like talking much, huh?" Bakugou asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You shook your head, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. "Not really..."

"Figures." He crossed his arms, his gaze scrutinizing you. "You better speak up when it matters, though. I'm not dragging dead weight around if we're working together."

The implication made your stomach twist. "I'll... try my best."

"Try?" His voice rose, and you flinched. "There's no try when it comes to this kind of shit. You either pull your weight, or you're useless."

His words hit like a punch to the gut, but you nodded meekly. "I... I understand."

He clicked his tongue in irritation, running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. "Whatever. Just don't get in my way."

The conversation lapsed into silence again, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at him. The weight of his presence was suffocating, like a storm cloud ready to burst at any moment.

"I... I can cook dinner," you offered hesitantly, desperate to fill the void. "If you'd like..."

He glanced at you, skepticism written all over his face. "You can cook?"

You nodded quickly. "Y-yes. I... I've been told I'm pretty good at it."

He huffed, leaning back against the couch. "Fine. Knock yourself out."

Relieved to have a task, you stood and made your way to the kitchen. It was as sleek and modern as the rest of the apartment, with shiny appliances that looked like they'd barely been used. You began gathering ingredients, thankful for something to focus on other than Bakugou's piercing gaze.

As you worked, you felt his eyes on you, though he said nothing. You tried to ignore the pressure, concentrating on chopping vegetables and stirring the pot. The rhythmic motion was calming, a small refuge in the storm.

"Smells decent," he commented after a while, his tone begrudging.

Your lips twitched. You weren't sure how to feel so you just nodded. "Thank you..."

When dinner was ready, you set the table and placed the dishes down carefully. Bakugou joined you, eyeing the food with suspicion before taking a bite.

He didn't say anything, but the fact that he kept eating was enough to ease some of your nerves.

"This is good," he admitted gruffly, barely looking at you.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. "R-really?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he snapped, but his tone lacked its usual bite.

You nodded quickly. For the first time that day, the tension in the room seemed to ease, just a fraction.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

(Edit: A continuation of this IS a fic.)

(Link to the Wattpad of this fic: https://www.wattpad.com/story/386015240?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=lotusdotpng )

(Link to the AO3 of this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62753884/chapters/160653781 )

[beautifulf-art-galaxy]

Lilia, Agatha All Along E7

animation study WIP!! though tbf i started this ages ago and haven't touched it since

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Underutilized bit in LOTR, I feel, is how deeply out of his depth Boromir is within the Fellowship.

And by that I don't mean that he's the weakest or the stupidest or any of that, but rather that –against all appearances– he is the sole member of the Fellowship who is a Regular Normal Human, and he would have such a shocker slowly figuring all that out over the course of their journey. I mean:

Age. Legolas and Gimli wouldn't surprise him, since the lifespan of elves and dwarves seems commonly known to be way longer than humans, but Gandalf? The hobbits? None of these ages work as advertised and when he goes down to sit and commiserate with Aragorn about being the only Men in the company and how weird this all must be for them both Aragorn has to cough into his fist and mutter "Eighty-seven." "WHAT?!" (Yes, I know that Gondor keeps records of their Númenórean ancestors and said ancestors' extended lifespans, but consider this: the blood has thinned so much in Gondor that practically nobody lives longer than regular humans nowadays, and Boromir is canonically the jock in a family of scholars. He had to look up what/where Rivendell was after he got Faramir's Prophecy Dream, for god's sake.)

Bilbo. The entire Fellowship except Boromir has a personal relationship with Bilbo, and Boromir has neither seen nor heard of this creature in his life. Everyone else is starting off this quest with significant background knowledge of Bilbo's life and The Hobbit, whether having been told by Bilbo himself or having had family members personally involved at the time it occurred, and Boromir, again, has no clue what they're all on about.

Moria. Dwarves presumably have some built-in sensory adaptions for living underground, elf eye physics are bullshit, hobbits are stated to be far more comfortable/better navigating underground than most races, Gandalf is an Istar, and Aragorn has been hunting and tracking in various ungodly locations for most of his eighty-seven years. This means that, once again, Boromir is the only Normal Person trying to Normally Navigate a mostly-pitch-black cave system while everyone else side-eyes him for bumping into walls all the time.

Elves can sleep with their eyes open. This is admittedly not the most common thing among the Fellowship, but please imagine Boromir, still struggling to understand the fact that he's surrounded by nonhuman beings who have no shared concept of the passing of time, rolling over at 2AM to see Legolas bluescreening contentedly up at the sky, and then everyone acts like he's the weird one when he starts freaking out about it because all of them are used to traveling with/know more about elves than he does.

Even just remembering stuff off the top of my head, Boromir must have had such a weird time adjusting to being the only normal human being among the Fellowship before he, y'know. Died.

(Plus I can totally imagine Merry and Pippin giving him shit for "Well, if you're the only normal one amongst nearly a dozen people, then that's not very 'normal', is it? Maybe Men are the odd ones out and everybody else is normal.")

[kamiversee]

˗ˏˋ My Love Note ´ˎ˗

7 | What's it gonna take

❧ Synopsis | In which Choso Kamo, your asshole of a best friend, starts to change after you get involved with a rather cheeky cashier, Gojo Satoru.

❧ Content | language, fluff, teasing, dry humping, sexual tension, etc.

❧ Word Count | 5.6k

❧ Pairings | Choso Kamo x f!reader & Gojo Satoru x f!reader.

| Chapters mlist |

——The next morning you wake up with your cheek pressed against something warm, an oversized t-shirt clothing you and one of your legs resting atop something. You quickly find out that the something in question happens to be none other than the man you had sex with the night prior, your best friend, Choso Kamo.

Laying on his naked chest, before your eyes even peel open, you relish in the gentle smell of his cologne. Surely you don’t remember either of you showering last night and yet here he was smelling as though nothing had even occurred. But hey, you’re pretty sure you passed out at some point so you wouldn’t be surprised if he cleaned himself up while you were sleeping.

The sound of a phone dinging oddly close by makes you finally crack your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is a phone in Choso’s hand not too far away from you. Since you were lying slightly on top of him, you could feel the deep breath he took due to the most recent notification. 

In the background was the faint sound of The Weeknd— you’ve got no idea what song was playing but it was there somewhere, sounding a bit far away. That aside, instead of focusing everywhere all at once, you center your gaze on Choso’s phone and watch his thumb linger over that recent notification.

You had to blink a few times to read it but the most you got from the text there was a ‘Hey, can u call me when u wake up? I wanna talk about last night…’ from someone named… Hori? You’ve got no idea who that is but the message is swiped away and blatantly ignored before you get to think about it any further.

Choso then swipes through the rest of his messages, answering some recent texts from his family members up until one message catches your eye yet again. It was something from his Uncle and the only reason it caught your eye is because your name was mentioned. Allas, before you could read anything past the words ‘Are you still,’ Choso was swiping out of the text thread entirely and you were soon spotting your contact.

Choso, being the total sweetheart he is, has your name happily saved as ‘Idiot #1’. You wouldn’t expect anything more or less from him but reading that made you scoff, which alerts him that you’re awake.

Followed by his realization is his heavily husked tone hitting your ears, “Well, good morning to you too.”

You almost smile at his voice alone. Something about it had your heart twinging in an unusual way and your lips twitching before you shifted your head up to look at him, “Mornin’ Cho.”

Choso’s gaze softens as it meets yours and you catch the way his whole expression and vibe seem to come at peace all at once. “How’d you sleep?” Holy shit the rasp in his voice was making your legs twitch against him ever so slightly, your eyes fleeting elsewhere.

“Fine, I think,” You hum, glancing around his bedroom until you spot the TV, “You?” As you ask that, you’ve located the source of lowly volumed music.

“Better than I have in a while,” Choso sighs as his eyes remain on your face, “How do you feel?”

You turn to him again and tilt your head, “I feel okay but uh, better than you have in a while?” You repeat with a lift of your brow, “Good pussy gave you some good rest, huh?”

He rolls his eyes at that question immediately, “Oh but I’m the ‘cocky bastard’.”

A smile graces your face and you shrug, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yeah,” Choso replies simply, “I guess you could say that.”

You chuckle at that and let out a little hum, to which he grins at you. Was there something in the air? Because Choso was staring at you like you were the only thing he’s ever cared to lay his eyes upon and you couldn’t get yourself to break away from his gaze for a long moment.

“Cho,” You hush out, watching as his brows lift, “Why’s my name saved as Idiot number one in your phone??”

Annnnd moment ruined.

Choso chuckles, “Cause’ you’re idiot number one, duh.”

“Why the number? Are there more idiots you know?” You muse, smiling slightly at the man.

“Two things; one, if there were, would you be jealous? And two, did you just willingly call yourself an idiot?” Your brown-haired best friend huffs out in jest, intrigued by your questions.

You shrug, “One; no. And two; yes.”

Ah, he’s full-on smiling at you now. Something was definitely in the air because Choso hasn’t felt this banter with you in forever and his heartfelt weird experiencing it again. 

Then he’s shaking his head at you, “You’re a dumbass.”

“I have my moments, I suppose,” You hum before slowly moving to sit up. The second you try moving, there’s a throb coming from just about everywhere— more specifically your thighs and back, which causes you to wince and pause in your movements, “Shit.”

Choso’s sitting up along with you and he tips his head to the side, “I asked you how you felt ‘nd you said you were okay.”

You scoff, “I was before I-“

He doesn’t even let you finish before he’s reaching over to his nightstand and grabbing something for you. Then he’s handing said unknown items to you and earning a confused glance from your face.

“Ibuprofen for your pain,” Choso explains, handing you one of two pills, “And uh, morning after for your uh-,” He awkwardly clears his throat as he processes a few things in his head, “So you don’t get, y’know… Since I uh-“

“Fucked me full of your cum last night?” You say bluntly, making his entire face heat up.

“Y-Yeah,” Choso stutters as a very prominent shade of red spreads across his face, “Since I did that.”

You smile at how shy he’s being before taking those pills from his hand, raising a brow at the man as you gesture to them, “So, am I supposed to throat these pills raw?”

“I’m sure you could if you wanted to,” He comments casually while reaching over for a water bottle, “But if you need me to stretch your throat out beforehand just say the word and I’ll-“

“Christ, Choso,” You gasp as you slap your free hand over his mouth. He smiles against you and hands you the water bottle he was reaching for. “How do you get shy from the thought of last night but then all bold two seconds later??” You huff before taking your hand off his mouth and grabbing the water bottle.

Choso shrugs, “Cause’ I almost got you pregnant last night,” He says reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, “But I can’t get you pregnant if I fuck your throat.”

You roll your eyes at him before taking the given medicine swiftly. Choso’s smile widens a bit and he quietly watches you gulp down the water and two pills, his eyes unknowingly focusing in on your throat for longer than intended. The way you effortlessly swallow-, which should be expected, you’re only drinking water but…

That small little ahh you let out as the bottle is retracted from your lips, the way you managed to cause a slip of water to escape your mouth, followed by an innocent glance in his direction, and then your eyes are on his and his eyes are on your lips and he just-

“You want to?” You ask casually, earning even more of his undivided attention.

“Want to, what?” Choso murmurs with a soft furrow of his brows.

You chuckle and lean closer to him. Then, you lean down a bit so he can look into your eyes and not at your lips, “Fuck my throat.”

Choso swallows thickly as he gazes deep into your eyes, “Right now?”

You scoff, “No, idiot. I’m sore enough everywhere else-“

“What’s one more place?” He cuts off, suddenly all too interested in the mere idea of face fucking you.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips, “Choso.” You murmur sternly.

“I’ll be gentle,” He whispers back, slowly reaching for your waist and carefully pulling you closer to him.

And then you’re on top of him all over again, your thighs spread and straddling him comfortably.

You shake your head, “Cho-“

“I promise,” He urges as he leans back and pulls your upper half with him until he’s resting against his headboard and your face is less than an inch away from his, “I’ll ease my cock in, take it nice ‘nd slow with you if that’s what you want, princess.”

Your body heats up at both his words and how gentle he’s already being, “Choso… We like, just woke up.”

He flashes that stupidly sexy but lazy smile at you, “Not a big fan of morning sex?”

“I actually am but,” You pause for a minute. Your eyes just linger on Choso’s and you feel his hands trail down to your hips, then your thighs, and then he’s squeezing slightly.

Choso leans in, “But…?”

“I’m sore,” You whisper.

“You’re sore,” He echoes as if to say it more to himself than to you. With that, he lets off a little nod before slouching back, “Right. Well, can I at least get a kiss?”

“S’that all you want?” You hum while leaning forward and slipping your arms around his neck.

Choso nods again and his eyes greedily drop down to your lips, “Uhuh.”

His hands start sliding up again, as if he just can’t get enough of touching and feeling you. You grin before your lips are slotting into his, his grasp on you tightening all of a sudden. He feels you whine into the kiss and bites back a smile as his hands continue to slip upward.

Choso’s fingertips dance just barely under the fabric of the shirt you’re wearing (his shirt) and you soon feel him hold onto the bare skin of your hips. His hands weren’t exactly rough but they weren’t the softest either. Choso’s skin was an odd mix of both, some areas were more calloused than the others and you could always tell he used his hands quite a bit.

He slides up again with his touch, holding onto your waist before tugging you even closer and kissing you passionately. You hum against him before he starts easing his tongue into your mouth.

And then the kiss is getting hotter and he’s gasping against your lips when you unintentionally rock your hips against him. 

Choso pries away and drops down to your neck, planting kiss after kiss and relishing in every sigh you let out. “Thought you were sore?” He hums into your skin.

You smile, “I am,” Then you’re tilting your head to give him better access and his hands are dropping back down to your thighs.

“Where?” Choso asks softly while caressing the top of your thighs and still kissing tenderly at your neck.

“The back of my legs, kinda,” You explain quietly with his hands moving the moment you speak, “And my back-, b-but mainly under my thighs.”

“Mh,” Choso hums and then he’s sliding his fingers underneath your thighs and pressing into your skin, earning a noticeable wince from you. “Here?” He whispers.

You nod and he kisses under your jaw, his hands focusing on those sore areas of yours as he massages them carefully. 

This goes on for a while up until your head ends up resting on his shoulder and he massages your legs while you remain seated on top of him. Gasping every time he presses into your skin just right and whining while he soothes your tired muscles, you find your eyes squeezed shut as he touches you.

“Right there, Cho,” You whine, to which he rotates his fingertips against the most recent area he was in.

Choso turns and presses his lips into your neck, “You make this sound so sexual, y’know,” He teases.

You roll your eyes, “It just feels good, a-and I’m not doin’ it on purpose.”

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckles.

Then, the two of you simmer back into that comfortable silence of yours, his hands working your tense skin with care as you remain as still as possible.

· ───────── · ꨄ · ───────── ·

Roughly ten minutes go by until you seem to be a lot more relaxed under his touch. The same artist that’s been playing lowly from the TV can still be heard, Double Fantasy by The Weeknd being the song filling the still air of the room. 

At some point, Choso decides he can start teasing you again and he moves his lips to your ear, “Where else are you sore, pretty girl?” He whispers way too affectionately.

You quickly pull your head away from him and shoot him a pointed look, “I told you my back…”

He meets that little glare of yours with a smirk, “I really did a number on you, huh?” Choso teases while sliding his hands up to your back and soon pressing his fingers against your spine.

You sigh and your lashes flutter in relief, “Uhuh.”

Your best friend continues to soothe you, skillfully running his hands all up and down your back to relieve the tension. And it felt nice to be cared for like this by him. Usually, if you were sick or ever feeling bad— he’d shrug you off and tell you to thug it out (affectionately).

But now? Choso was the sweetest you’ve ever experienced from him. You wondered how long this would last-

“Choso,” You breathe out, having felt his hand wander off.

“Hm?” He hums innocently.

You almost laugh at the man, “That’s my ass.”

He bites back a laugh of his own, “Yeah, I know. You’re not sore here?” Choso questions while he palms and squeezes at the fat of your ass.

“No, Choso,” You snicker, “You just wanted an excuse to touch my ass.”

“Noooo,” He drags out playfully as his smile begins to mirror yours. You raise a brow at him and he quickly folds, “Okay, maybe. But I dunno, I couldn’t help myself. You’re sittin’ on top of me and lookin’ at me like…”

Your head weighs to the side as you search his eyes for an explanation, “Like what?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know how to describe it but it makes me crave you.”

“C-Crave me?” Your lashes bat in surprise and he nods.

Choso’s naturally sleepy features remain neutral as he peers into your eyes, “Mhm.”

You try to laugh his little statement off, “One night with me and now you’re obsessed?”

“Addicted, maybe.” Choso whispers so faintly you almost miss it.

Almost, “Seriously?” You utter in response.

He swallows, sitting there just staring at you while his hand continues mindlessly squeezing your ass. He has such a mellow expression with you right now. You’ve felt comfort with Choso before but never to this degree. Everything about the way he’s looking at you right now is making your heart feel odd.

“No.” He eventually says in a firm tone.

You scrunch your brows, “Cho-“

“I was joking, shut up.” He cuts off— feeling distant with you all over again.

“No you weren’t,” You refute, scoffing at the man, “You really are addicted to me now, aren’t y-“

He’s cutting you off with another kiss, to which you freeze completely. Your brain simply halts at the feel of his lips on yours again. So soft and gentle with you, like he’s been waiting years to do this and wants to sink into this feeling forever. Hell, maybe he has been waiting for years.

It’s nowhere near the first time he’s ever kissed you but, something about your lips on his makes his mind lose all sensible thoughts for a minute. Which is why both of his hands are dropping to your ass and he’s pulling you impossibly closer to him.

He pushes against you a bit harder and you gasp at how needy his hands are on you. Your lips part against him and he gifts your ass with a smack, earning a faint moan from you.

“Fuck,” Choso sears in between your lips, gripping and grabbing at all of you.

Your chest is pressed tightly against his and because of his tight grip on you, you can’t help the gentle rock of your hips against him.

Seconds, it takes mere seconds for you to feel his cock poking up at your unclothed cunt.

Then Choso’s snatching his lips off of yours and dropping to your neck again, “Don’t stop,” He groans, “Please.”

You moan at the way he shifts one hand to your hips and constantly tugs you against him, grunting hotly into your neck as he feels your bare cunt rub against his cock— one flimsy layer left between the two of you.

“C-Cho, we shouldn’t-,” You’re cut off by him gently lifting his hips against you, a soft gasp escaping you instead.

“Why?” He breathes, moving to grab your ass as you grind against him a bit harder, “We have the whole day to ourselves,” Choso whispers.

You toss your head back and he starts sucking on your neck, careful not to leave a mark. “B-Because… we just, hah, we shouldn’t.”

He scoffs, “Scared of noise complaints?”

“No?”

“Should be,” Choso hums as he bites back a throaty groan from the way he feels you right against his tip. “Shit, did you-, hah, notice what I did to the wall yet?”

Your brows twist up before you turn and catch sight of a rather large hole in the wall, one caused by Choso’s previous roughness with you and the bed knocking into it a little too hard.

“Choso!” You gasp, “How the hell did you-“

“I knew I heard somethin’ last night too,” He chuckles, “I was just too wrapped up in you to care.”

“You-“

“I’m sorry,” Choso breathes out almost finally before reenacting his acts from last night and swiftly flipping the two of you over, pinning you down against his bed and rolling his cock down hard against you.

You gasp, “Oh fuck-, why’re you s-so…”

He tilts his head, the veins decorating his arms flexing, “So what?” He breathes.

“Fuckin’ hard,” You nearly laugh, smiling a bit at the man, “We just woke up not too long ago. H-How do you get turned on so easily?”

Choso chuckles as if to taunt you, “You do know I can feel you right?”

“Huh?”

“I’m not the only one turned on,” He scoffs, leaning down to speak while his lips graze yours, “I can feel how wet you are, idiot.”

You gulp, “I…”

Choso nibbles on your lower lip and tugs for a moment before whispering, “Let’s jus’ make it quick, yeah?”

“Choso.” You utter sternly in protest.

“Promise,” He pants, “I promise it’ll be quick-, maybe I’ll jus’ put the tip in, c’mon.” His hips mash down against yours, causing the outline of his erect cock to push further against you.

You moan, “Mgh, but-“

“I need you,” Choso groans, sounding almost pained, “Jus’ a little bit more of you, please,” He whines.

“Fuck, o-okay, fine-“

And then he’s kissing you again, rutting his clothed cock against you over and over while he messily reaches his hands down to his sweats. Snatching at his drawstring, eager to remove the tiring layer of clothing, Choso’s kissing you like his life depends on it.

You’re such an idiot— giving into your best friend for yet a second time in a row. Were you addicted? Isn’t this wrong? Choso’s your best friend. Your best friend.

He’s just about to pull his sweatpants down before he’s rudely interrupted by the ringing of the apartment doorbell.

You both freeze, panting heavily as if you’ve been caught doing something you had no business doing. Gulping, Choso lets out a long and frustrated groan before dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Can we just ignore them?” He asks you.

You giggle, “No, it’s probably one of our neighbors.”

“Oh,” Choso practically smiles at that, “You’re right. They’re probably here to give us an earful about our noise last night. Or well, your noise-“

“Shut up and go answer the door,” You scoff, “I’ll probably be here when you get back.”

“Probably?” Choso questions as he sits up and slides out of his bed.

You shrug, “I might run back to my room while you’re distracted so uh, be quick.”

A wink is sent to the man and he fights the urge to just stare at you in awe. You probably have no idea how you look right now, wearing his shirt, one of the many hickeys he left on you poking out from your collarbone, laying in his bed all tired but horny because of him-

Okay, enough of that for now. Choso shakes himself out of his little reverie and glances around his bedroom floor to spot a different pair of sweats to slip into. He swiftly does so, groaning in discomfort while he turns his back to you and debates on putting a shirt on.

You lay in his bed staring at him, your eyes widening at his back profile and the numerous bright red scratch marks decorating his skin. Damn, did you do that last night?

You almost smile at the sight but in the corner of your eye, for whatever reason, the lyrics to the song from earlier seem to catch your attention. Said song was over by now but the last end of the hook was fading out. Brightly reading the words ‘Even though it’s wrong’.

Now, it’s just a song but you can’t help but find it funny considering you just had sex with Choso last night, and almost again just a few seconds ago. It’s almost like you were forgetting something-

“See what you did t’my back last night?” Choso’s voice tugs you from your mind and you look at him.

Scoffing, “Looks like you were attacked.” You comment teasingly.

Choso tosses the shirt he was considering putting on and shrugs, “Does it?”

“Yeah,” You sigh, laying on your side and watching him glance into his bedroom mirror.

The man turns around briefly to admire the marks left on him and he grins, “Holy shit,” Choso breathes, smiling at the sight, “I looked at it a bit last night but fuck, you clawed at me like crazy.”

“…Did you not feel it while you were fucking me down into the mattress ‘nd telling me to ‘take it’ for like twenty minutes straight?” You ask dryly.

He pretends to think for a long moment and opens his mouth to say something snarky but another ring of the doorbell cuts him off.

“Better go get that,” You hum playfully.

Choso groans, clearly annoyed by the constant interruption before swiftly exiting the room. Entering the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen, and soon approaching the door.

He lets out a yawn as he unlocks the door and soon opens it, “If this is about the noise last night, I jus’ wanna cut this short by sayin’ I’m-, oh,” Choso cuts himself short as he makes eye contact with the person awkwardly standing at the door.

The man in front of him furrows his brows, “I uh-“

Choso interrupts by putting a hand up and glancing back inside the apartment, “Door’s for you!” He shouts back to you. Then, he looks at the person in front of him one more time, sizes him up, and scoffs, “She’ll be out in a sec'.”

The man opens his mouth to reply but Choso rudely slams the door in his face.

Frustrated, and with his mood almost completely ruined, Choso groans again as he makes his way back to his bedroom. As he walks in, he spots you sitting on the edge of his bed looking down at something on the floor before you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What do you mean the door’s for me?” You ask softly, “And uh,” He watches you lean down to pick up a tarnished piece of fabric, “When the hell did you rip my panties?”

“Last night, duh,” Choso huffs out rather sassily before brushing past his bed and heading toward his bathroom.

“You owe me a new pair,” You tell him with a pout on your face.

With no emotion in his voice, “I’ll buy you twenty.” He says curtly before disappearing into his bathroom completely.

You scoff at his sudden attitude and dismissal of your first question, moving to stand on slightly wobbly legs as you extend your arms into the air to stretch. Sighing, you glance around to find your shorts, soon spotting them and slipping into them before exiting the room.

Every step you take, you feel faint soreness but you think the medicine and massage Choso gave you helped your body not to feel too bad. As such, you steadily make your way to the front door— wondering if there’s a package for you or something. You still get the feel you’re forgetting something but between that and Choso’s sudden grumpiness, you just-

Every thought of yours comes to a sudden halt as you swing open the door.

“S-Satoru?” You breathe.

Oh, so that’s what you’d been forgetting. Gojo Satoru, y’know, the guy you’ve been getting along with better than you ever have with any other guy you know, the guy who’s nothing but a gentleman to you, the guy who you were literally dancing with less than twenty-four hours with, the-

Yeah, you get the point. Either way, you’re left staring up at the man with your eyes as wide as ever and your breath caught in the middle of your throat. Staring into Gojo’s kindhearted and dazzling blue eyes, feeling an abrupt rack of guilt lump up in your chest as your mind scrambles for some way to process your situation.

Swallowing thicker than ever, you slowly step out into the hall with him and shut your apartment door behind you, “What uh-, w-why-, what’re you doing here?” You stammer out with the faintest shake in your voice.

Gojo moves to scratch the back of his neck, “If I’m being honest, I’m not too sure myself.”

Blinking in confusion, you tilt your head, “What?”

“I just-,” Gojo sighs, “You didn’t respond at all last night or this morning, so I got a little worried…”

“So… you show up at my apartment?” You question further as you raise a brow at the man.

He winces, “Is that weird-, this, is this weird?” Gojo asks as he gestures to his being here.

Maybe if you weren’t guilty of sleeping with your best friend it wouldn’t be…

“U-Uh, no?” You huff out almost awkwardly, “I just wasn’t expecting you, sorry. My phone died on me last night and I never plugged it up.”

He nods before glancing to the side, “Busy with other things?” 

You choke on your own guilt all over again, “I-I’m sorry?”

“Your roommate said somethin’ about a noise complaint,” Gojo recalls simply as he looks at you once more.

Your brows go up, “Did he? Well, that’s probably from whatever he was up to before I got home.”

Gojo tilts his head at you and you feel as though he could see right through you, “Riight…” He hums, “Anyway, I just came over to make sure you were okay.”

“I appreciate that Gojo but what could’ve possibly have happened to me from last night when you dropped me off to this morning?” You point out to the man with a little laugh. Sure, regret and guilt were eating you alive right now but that still doesn't explain Gojo’s sudden appearance, “I live with someone I’ve known for like eight years.”

“I don’t know-, wait, you’ve known him for eight years?” He redirects as he narrows his eyes at you.

“I met him during my freshman year of high school, Satoru,” You chuckle, “He’s my best friend.”

“Is that all?” Gojo blurts out.

You blink, “Huh?”

The man gulps, having not meant to ask that so suddenly, “Like, are you two just best friends?”

“That’s what I just said, yes.” You reply straightforwardly.

“I-“

Quick to snap back at the man for questioning you in an accusing manner, “Aren’t you and Geto just best friends?” 

“Yeah,” He murmurs.

“Is that all?” You ask with a smirk.

“Of course-,” He cuts himself off with a scoff, “Okay, I see what you did there.”

“Mhm,” You hum, “So if that’s all then uh,” You slowly begin to motion toward the door behind you.

Gojo reaches a hand out, “Wait, are you free today?”

You pause, “Depends on what for.”

“Me,” He shrugs.

“Am I free for you today?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmmmm, I dunno, I gotta check my schedule, Satoru.” You say teasingly as you lean left against the doorframe, “I’m a busy woman, y’know…”

Those pretty rose-tinted lips of his curve into a smirk, “Oh are you now?”

You smile, “Mhmm..”

Gojo takes a little step closer and lifts his shoulders, “Can’t you spare some of your time for your favorite barista?”

“I can consider,” You tell him before eyeing the man up and down, “What did you wanna do with me anyway?”

“Jus’ hang out.” He explains simply.

“That’s all?”

“Mhm.”

Clicking your tongue, “I would but, I was planning on taking a bit of a rain check today.”

“Oh,” Gojo hums, his brows lifting in surprise, “That’s uh-, that’s cool. I mean, yeah, no, that’s-“

“Satoru,” You snort.

He stops himself from making even more of a fool of himself, clearing his throat and meeting your gaze, “Yes?”

Lifting a finger, you gesture him to come closer and he shuffles his feet toward you. Then, you reach up for his shirt and carefully pull him down to you.

“Stop being such a dork,” You sigh with a smile on your face. Then you plant a kiss on his cheek and hug him, “And thank you for coming to check on me.”

Gojo’s body goes still for a moment while you wrap your arms around his neck and push up on your toes to hug him fully. After which, his arms are engulfing your waist and he’s letting out a sigh as he reciprocates your hug.

“Anytime,” He murmurs, his hands caressing your back, “Sorry if I made things weird…”

You chuckle, “You’re fine, Satoru. You jus’ surprised me, that’s all.” You slowly retract from the hug and meet his eyes one last time, “So… I’ll see you Monday morning?”

He nods, “Yeah.”

And with that, the two of you are steady to say your goodbyes to one another— soon parting ways as you watch him leave before disappearing back into your apartment and letting you the heaviest sigh ever.

Silence engulfs you as you stand there at the door for a moment. What are you? Some kinda slut? You literally had sexual interactions with not one, but two men on the same night.

Christ, what the hell got into you last night (aside from Choso)? Now the guilt was really settling in. It hit you earlier when you first laid eyes on Gojo but now that you’ve spoken to him, it’s like you feel even worse.

How could you completely forget him last night? The guy went out of his way to show up the next morning just to make sure you were okay and yet there you were, having just been pulled away from having sex with your best friend for a second time. This was so beyond fucked up-

“Y’know if all else fails,” The sound of your brown-haired best friend speaking tugs you out of your thoughts, “You should really consider acting because that was-“

“Oh my god, Choso,” You instantly let out a long groan, turning around to glance at him standing in the nearby kitchen, “Please shut the hell up.”

He frowns, “What’d I do?”

A sigh of frustration is let out, “Me. You did me, and that’s the problem.”

His face contorts to confusion as your statement hits his ears, “How? It’s not like you’re dating the guy.”

He makes a rather good point there but that doesn’t stop you from feeling guilty about forgetting about him and lying to him. “But I like him.” You argue.

Choso rolls his eyes, “So? What does that-“

“A lot,” You emphasize.

Your best friend cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms, “You like him ‘a lot’ but you let me fuck you last night?” 

At that, your breath is caught in your throat, “I…”

He heaves out a really heavy sigh, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t say anything to him.”

You meet his gaze with thankful eyes, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Choso shrugs, “We had sex, who cares. Why would I go out of my way to tell him that?”

“Because you hate me and find joy in my suffering,” You comment jokingly.

He laughs, “I don’t hate you.”

“Debatable,” You argue, “But anyway, thanks.”

Then, you move away from the door and slowly start walking in the direction of your bedroom.

“Mhm,” Choso hums, his eyes following you, “So, are we gonna pick up where we left off or-“

You’re quick to cut him off and not allow yourself to let him have his way with you yet again— you feel shitty enough as is, “Not in the mood anymore, Cho.”

Choso, not fazed by your rejection in the slightest, merely nods, “Another time then?”

The last thing you say to him is a crisp, “No.” Before you disappear into your bedroom and shut your door behind you.

There’s the slightest panging felt in Choso’s heart at the sound of that but he ignores that feeling entirely. ‘No’, you said. He scoffs, yeah right, let’s see how long that lasts…

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[inumkii]

mha boys working at a bakery

included: bakugou, kirishima, denki, shouto, and a little dabi feature

okay this prompt except its not awwww cute baker au! inspired by my old job, it was a bit miserable but i try to look back on it fondly

bakugou’s one of the bakers, almost always opening at 6am. there's a rare occasion where you're scheduled to open with only him and he's there early, prepping the dough with faint classical music playing in the background. opening shifts with him (and shifts in general) can be quite nice because he tends to mind his own business while you cover the counter, but you have walked in to him yelling at denki for leaving the scones in the oven for too long. i would say he’s pretty quiet when he bakes as long as no one else gets in his way. feel free to talk about whatever as he bakes because for you, he’ll silently listen. for anyone else, he’s complaining that they’re distracting him- unless! two people are talking mad shit or gossiping on the clock, he’s secretly listening in.

saturday morning opening shifts are your favorite because the two baker and two counter combo is almost always bakugo, kirishima, mina, and you. the reason why you put up with the miserable opening hours is because kiri and mina loveeeee to gossip about everything they’ve learned throughout the week between your coworkers and bakugou chimes in with additional information that no one else knew. you guys are surprised every time but he just shrugs it off.

kirishima is a sweetheart who does all the tasks that you don’t want to do. ask him to cover mopping tonight? done. need the stack of 50 sheet trays carried to the back? he’s taking care of it. he’s normally baking in the morning but he’ll close from time to time and you always know you’ll be out early when you see his name on the schedule.

denki takes closing shifts more often because he likes to call dibs on the pastries that didn't sell that day. he works at the counter more than baking,,, we all know why.. but he insists he can do either!! for everyone’s sake, especially the customers, you stick him behind the register.

i do think large group orders freak denki out so you have to stand next to him and help him ring them up every time. you really can't tell if he's pretending for the sake of having you by his side or if he genuinely can’t do it. (its a bit of both)

you guys have a closing checklist where you have to sign your name next to every cleanup task after completion but you and denki both hate doing the same things. so he’ll be a pain in the ass and sign his name prematurely on random tasks so you’ll get stuck on mopping duty. sorry. this is getting self indulgent but your personal favorite task is to take the chalk board advertisement for the bakery back inside at the end of the day. after a 7 hour shift, its a nice thirty second walk outside. somehow denki finds out that you love that task so he starts beating you to it. its gotten to a point where someone will innocently ask if anyone's taken in the sign for the night and there's a split second where you guys look at each other before immediately racing out the front door to see who can get to it first.

shouto is a gentleman!!!!!! he’s always there in the daytime, takes the 9-4 shifts mostly. hired as a baker but he took the counter once and he really charmed those old ladies popping in for their morning muffin so he’s kinda been defaulted to the front. you’ve been guilty at handing the phone to him when a wholesale order has gotten too confusing and he’ll kindly take over. he’s become the face the regulars see the most when they walk in due to the nature of his shift times.

you mostly catch shouto for an hour or two when you work closing shifts, coming in around 2. some nights, by the time you realize you need to take out the trash, its already dark outside. the dumpster walk isn’t necessarily far, but its not pleasant nor does it feel very safe. but when you go to check the trash, you realize shouto silently took them out before he got off his shift a few hours ago so you didn’t have to walk out in the dark. he’s never scheduled closing shifts, but if someone needs it covered + he sees that you're the other closer, he’s quick to offer. walks you back to your car too.

there’s a coffee shop in the same shopping complex that your bakery is friendly with. by the end of the night, any leftover pastries get put into a ziplock and handed over to them in exchange for a free coffee. the mysterious barista who’s name tag reads ‘dabi’ is always the one to thank you for bringing over the treats and making your latte. he knows exactly what you're gonna get every time he sees you walking up to the front of the cafe. he sends you off every night with a wink and your coffee in hand

(you aren’t aware that dabi is related to shouto at all. its never been brought up and they're mostly on different shift schedules. so when shouto hears about your closing night exchanges, he starts shifting his schedule just so he can accompany you. and to keep an eye on his brother to make sure he’s not going to pull anything funny.)

-

additional all might as my boss: early morning opening shifts are your worst enemy just because you cannottt be bothered to wake up earlier than noon, so when you do, you come in having just woken up ten minutes before. your boss catches you one morning and stops you for a ten minute rant about how you should be more confident with your bare face! and makeup is a social construct, so feel beautiful with yourself!! and you think its sweet but you didnt even notice how you weren’t even wearing the usual makeup look. thanks greg. i guess. he means well.

[er-osion]

Stay (in my life)

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader

summary: Red Hood comes back to your apartment for a patch job again, but his injuries are a bit more severe this time so he accepts your offer to stay over

word count: 4.3k

warnings: blood, fairly detailed descriptions of injuries, fluff

author’s note: sorry this one’s a little long ya’ll, i got a bit carried away. hope you guys enjoy. you can read part one here.

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

“Holy shit, you look terrible!” You gasp as you take in Red Hood’s battered form as he clumsily steps over to your couch.

“Thanks, you look great too.” Hood grits out in reply as he slumps into the cushions. You hurry to grab your med kit and rush over beside him.

“You’re getting blood all over my couch, Hood.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m really good at getting stains out.”

“I hope you’re also really good at surviving what appears to be multiple stab wounds and severe burns.”

“You’d laugh at that statement if you knew my background.”

“We’re gonna have to move this to the bathroom, I need better lighting and access to the sink.”

“I just sat down.” Hood exasperated.

“You know it’s not far.” You rolled your eyes at his words but couldn’t fight the rising anxiety at his condition. On instinct, you got up and held out your hand for him to take. Hood moved his head to look at your hand.

“Considering my size and condition, I don’t think you’re gonna be much help getting me off this couch by yourself.” He noted, unimpressed.

You narrowed your eyes at him but kept your hand where it was, “It’s more the sentiment. However, in your condition you might very well need all the help you can get walking the short distance to my bathroom.” Hood paused but set his gloved hand in yours. It was dirty with dust and what you assumed was blood and gripped tightly, probably more so than he realized, but you paid no mind with your thoughts wrapped up in Hood’s less than favorable state. The vigilante got up slowly from your couch and he wobbled to and fro once he was on his feet. The two of you started to move carefully to your bathroom, which was just down the hall, but Hood seemed to be more injured than you initially thought because his knees suddenly became weak and you both had to make a combined effort to catch him.

“Did you hit your head tonight?” You ask as Hood tried to restabilize himself.

“You asking if I have a concussion?” Hood responded.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking, yes.”

“It’s highly probable. I was thrown against a cement wall pretty hard.” Hood moved and wrapped one of his large arms around your shoulder for more support, immediately putting more of his weight onto you. The man was heavy beyond belief, but he did his best not to pile his muscle mass on top of you. The arm around your shoulders was secure and his hand gripped the fabric of your t-shirt tightly. Hood groaned while he settled more into you and you began walking again. Despite your rampant mind, your heart hammered in your chest at the contact and you felt the skin touching his arm dance. By some miracle, the two of you made it to your bathroom, and you did your best to help Red Hood down onto the floor in front of your bathtub.

“Can you just start listing off all your possible injuries while I get all my supplies out?” You asked Hood while you opened the first aid kit. Hood complied, and started listing off all the places he suspected was injured during his patrol tonight. You noticed, though, that his words sometimes got slurred and his sentences kept drifting off —in other words, he didn’t seem all there. “Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” You probed.

“Told you, it’s very possible. What do you think, doc?” Hood shot back.

“In all honesty, I suspect you have a concussion. Maybe not a severe one, but a concussion is still bad no matter the level. How does your head feel, where it got hit?”

“It hurts.”

“No shit Sherlock, but I was hoping for a more detailed answer.”

“I guess it’s kind of a dull pain? Not like a migraine, but it also hurts in my neck and back of the head.”

“Okay, I think we need to deal with your head first.” You stopped when you realized the implications of your words. You’d need his helmet off to examine his head for any open wounds, you’d never seen Red Hood with his helmet off. Hood seemed to realize this at the same time since you saw him tense suddenly. Neither of you moved or said anything for a couple seconds, trying to figure out how to proceed. You quickly tried to remedy the awkwardness, “Look, I know I’m not supposed to see your face, I’m just concerned about your head but the last thing I want to do right now is push your boundaries, so if taking off the helmet is a no-go we’ll figure something else out.”

Red Hood shook his head, “No, you’re right, as usual. I trust you won’t go mouthing off about what the Red Hood’s face looks like.” He teased as he moved his hand up toward his helmet. You heard a clicking noise and a quiet hiss and felt your body still with anticipation. Hood slowly removed the helmet and you saw him peel off a domino mask underneath.

When his face was bare and uncovered in front of you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He’s beautiful. Red Hood was the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. His eyes a mystifying swirl of green and blue, dim with exhaustion but there was still this inexplicable unnatural glow to them. His hair —while slightly matted from the helmet— looked deliciously soft, the color of the night sky with a bold white streak at the front. There was a long thin scar connecting one of his eyebrows to his pale pink lips. You were speechless as you took in Hood’s face, trying to wrap your head around how someone could look that goddamn beautiful. It really wasn’t fair. Your heart was racing out of your chest and you were having trouble maintaining a steady breath while you gazed at his features. Red Hood noticed your stare and shifted a little uncomfortably under your gaze, his gemstone eyes gluing themselves to the ground.

“You gonna stare at my face all night, or are you gonna fix me up?” His voice snapped you back to reality.

“Right right, sorry. I just… wasn’t expecting to finally learn what you looked like tonight… got caught up in the surprise I guess.” You tried to cover your embarrassment and scooched closer so you could examine his head. You looked around and felt very gently for any bumps or wounds. “Hood, you’re bleeding at the back of your head.” The worry in your voice was prominent.

“That would help explain the dizziness.”

Your lips pulled into a line and you started to clean his head wound as carefully as you could, and then wrapped it gently with a bandage. You then made the vigilante promise not to fall asleep on you while you worked on the rest of his injuries. The rest of his body made the head injury look like a splinter. Multiple abrasions were littered across his torso, the molested skin was red with blood and irritation. You could see small bits of debris lodged in the surface of his cuts and abdomen. The slashes on his arms were in a similar state. As if the knife assaults weren’t enough, spots of his body were marred with blistering burns the color of bright red and white. Your heart stung at the obvious pain your hero must be in. No one deserved this, especially not Hood. Your eyebrows furrowed deeper with concern and your frown carved further into your face.

You were startled out of your thoughts when a thumb brushed between your eyebrows, forcing the furrow to even out. You blinked, and shot your gaze up to the owner of the hand. Hood was looking at you with green eyes that were clouded with emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. He had been frowning, but when you locked eyes, the edge of his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. “Keep that face up and you’ll get wrinkles before you’re thirty.” He teased as his thumb once again brushed between your brows, to further his point.

You huffed and shook your head slightly, but not too much to force his hand off of your face. “Keep coming here on the brink of death at 2 am and I definitely will.” You fired back with the ghost of a smirk. Neither of you felt the need to say anything more, Hood’s hand lingered at the top of your head for a brief moment before he retracted it back to his side. You instantly missed the contact. But, you turned your attention back to the task at hand and began caring for Hood’s various other injuries. You used tweezers to fish out the pebbles that had burrowed into his skin and then cleaned the subsequent areas with water and your saline solution. You looked at each cut to determine if it needed stitches or not. For the ones that did, you warned Hood of your plans each time and made extra careful work of numbing the areas before stitching his wounds neatly and efficiently.

Jason watched you in a daze. He could never get over how well you handled everything. Even though he knew you were worried and filled with anxiety, you worked calmly and with composure. You were focused and didn’t let your fears rule your movements, something he greatly appreciated as the one with the injuries. Jason hadn’t planned for any of this to happen. He hadn’t planned for tonight’s ambush to go so wrong, he hadn’t planned to hobble into your apartment nearly blind with pain and dizziness, and he certainly hadn’t planned to take both of his masks off in front of you. Sure, the two of you had been getting closer as of late. After your offer to host him even on nights he wasn’t injured, Jason had been showing up to your apartment a couple nights out of the week to make dinner and watch tv with you. In the past few weeks, Jason had been relishing in the change in your dynamic. Just existing in the same space as you put Jason’s head into a flurry, but in the most exciting way. The best part of his day has been visiting you these last few weeks. And of course, each time he’s entered your place he’s thought about removing the helmet and allowing you to get closer to him in a way he hasn’t let anyone in years. But each time, he’s stopped himself in fear. Fear of what exactly? Fear of putting you in danger, fear of scaring you, fear of disappointing you. Jason Tood would not be able to handle it if any of those things occurred. But there’s no time like the present, as they say. At least you didn’t flinch when you saw him. He couldn’t exactly figure out what you were thinking (whether it was positive or negative) but it wasn’t disgust he saw on your face, so a win is a win.

The black-haired man is suddenly overtaken with words and spits out without realizing, “I’m Jason, by the way.”

You freeze and look up at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Jason.”

“Oh! Okay, Jason…” You test the weight of his name on your tongue, “Jason, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You conclude with a genuine smile.

Jason’s entire stomach has just done at least 20 flips. His heart is beating so hard and loud in his chest he hopes you don’t hear it. The man never knew a person could say his name so sweetly. He never knew his name could be uttered without any hint of malice by someone outside of his family. Your pronunciation of his name is echoing in his mind like bells to a dizzying effect. He’s been a fool. He’s been such an idiot. How could he let fear prevent him from lifting his helmet and telling you his name, when he could’ve been hearing the beautiful way you say it all this time? Jason realizes he’s left you verbally hanging for a good minute just staring, so he clears his throat and adverts his eyes. “The pleasure is all mine.” When Jason looks back at you, he sees your smile is still plastered on your face and it gives him a strange sense of pride.

“I want you to know though, I know the mask was probably a lot tonight. I don’t want to force you to say or give up anything for my sake, I’m the one treating you. I’m so glad you trust me enough with your face and name, but I don’t want you to think I need it to help you, Jason. I’d fix you up even if you came in here one day as a bat-Frankenstein.” You’re worried you might’ve pushed him too far tonight. You don’t want Ho—Jason, to think you’re only out to discover his secret identity. You want him to understand that you’d care for him no matter the circumstances, whether you knew his face and name or not.

All at once, Jason felt his throat close up and tears brimming his eyes. Do you know what your words mean to him? Do you know how instantly you make him feel loved? Jason is so certain he is undeserving of your kindness and understanding, but here you are giving it to him freely. Will you ever understand the effect you have on him? How you heal pieces of his soul he thought long shattered. Jason’s full, pink lips quiver into a small smile. A smile of profound gratitude, appreciation, and sadness.

“Angel, it’s long overdue. You’re right on one thing though, I do trust you. I trust you far more than my colleagues would probably advise, but I do so anyway because I can’t do anything else. I keep invading your life in sharp broken pieces and asking you to pick me up off the floor, even at risk of hurting yourself. Yet, you do it each time with a grace Shakespeare wishes he could write about. The fact I want you to understand is that; if I didn’t want you to see my face or know my name, you wouldn’t. End of story. But that’s not the case, so it isn’t the end of the story. You’re not pushing me. And to know that you’d fix me up even if I did end up a bat-Frankenstein, is some of the most relieving news I’ve had all month.” Jason had to end his monologue with a small tease, worried his vulnerability would be too obvious without it. You listen to his words with so much intent you’ve forgotten the rest of the world. An invisible hand is squeezing your heart to the point it hurts. You can only take shallow breaths and you feel as though you might tear up.

“Well then, let’s finish fixing you up.” Your words come out barely a whisper and you go back to tending to his wounds. But neither of you can ignore the change in the air. The swift shift into a heavy lull that keeps a smile on both of your faces. You realize you’ll be done treating him soon and a wave of panic rises in you. He can’t leave now, not after everything we just left unsaid. But he leaves every time I finish taking care of him, without wasting a second. Then, an idea comes to mind. One you’ve conjured up multiple times in the past but never really entertained because of its unlikeliness to occur. It’s a risk, for sure. It’s very possible you mess it up and ruin the evening, but things have gone smoothly thus far and the success has given you a boost in confidence. Plus, you are still majorly concerned for his health, so you brave the question once you’ve completed the last bandage.

“I’m done wrapping your injuries, but that in no way means you’re recovered. I know you’re probably anxious to get back to your safe house or whatever, but you’re a severe liability in your condition.”

“So what do you suggest?” Jason asks with a skeptically raised eyebrow.

“…Um well, I was going to offer —and it’s perfectly acceptable if you say no— but I was going to offer you stay over here for the night, to have somewhere to lie down without having to brave Gotham at night with a concussion and several broken ribs.” You refused to meet Jason’s eyes as you offered him to stay the night, so you missed how they widened in surprise and then lit with anticipation.

“Yeah that— um, I—” Jason coughed awkwardly, something you’ve never seen him do but find endearing, “I mean yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Not sure I could make it a block without collapsing. But you uh— you sure you don’t mind?” Jason’s voice softens in volume at the end of his query.

“I wouldn’t be offering if I did.”

“Fair point.” You smiled at his acceptance of your invitation, secretly giddy at the idea of him spending the night. “But um, I don’t really have anything for you to change into.”

“Understandable. I have my compression shorts on though so I’ll be fine.” Jason assures you and you nod your head. You then help him up off of the bathroom floor. Jason once again lays his arm around your shoulders for support and your stomach twists into knots. The two of you say nothing as you move toward your bedroom. Jason helps open the door with his free arm so you can shimmy your two bodies through the opening. Jason suddenly feels very awkward and misplaced inside. He’s never seen your room before, and to do so now feels so intimate it makes him light headed. This is the most personal space in your entire apartment and it is just now striking Jason that this is where he’ll be sleeping since you don’t have a guest room. Too lost in his racing thoughts, the vigilante doesn’t notice you’ve helped him to sit down on the edge of your bed. You reluctantly pull away from his grip around your shoulders to go turn on your bedside lamp, immediately feeling the absence of his body heat. Jason is pulled back into reality at the loss of contact and is hit with the need to say something but he searches for words with no avail.

It’s you who breaks the silence in a quiet but firm voice, instinctively not wanting to ruin the quiet air of the room. “You can sleep in here tonight. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything. If you get thirsty or hungry please help yourself to anything in my kitchen. The bedroom door locks too, just in case that’d make you more comfortable. Like I said though, if you need anything just come grab me, I’ll be on the couch.” You turn to leave him in privacy, but Jason quickly speaks up.

“You’re gonna sleep on the couch?” He asks incredulously.

“Well that is the only other option.” You affirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“No no no. It’s your house, you can sleep in your bed. I’ll take the couch.” Jason started to get up, but you could see him straining with each movement. You rushed over and gently but forcefully pushed him to sit back on the bed.

“Yeah, no. You are the one who’s severely injured, I’m not letting you sleep on a couch in your state. I really don’t mind anyways, it’s just one night.”

“Well I refuse to make you sleep on a couch in your own home, you already sacrifice enough just letting me in here.” You were about to protest his use of the word ‘sacrifice’ before Jason continued, with a suggestion that made you still. “We could… we could share the bed? I mean— it’s big enough for two people and we’re both apparently too stubborn to let the other one sleep in the living room.” Jason’s lake green eyes scanned your face for any sign of disgust or hesitation, his palms felt sweaty and he suddenly felt like an idiot for even suggesting such a thing.

You were frozen, the cogs turning in your head at the implications of his offer. Your heart was racing. The two of you sleep in the same bed? You had just learned his name, and now you two would be sharing a bed? You tried to stop yourself from feeling so excited at the idea. Jason took your silence for uncertainty and continued blabbering, “We’re both adults, right? I don’t mean anything by it, I just— I don’t want you getting a bad night's sleep on your couch, and your stubborn ass clearly won’t let me sleep anywhere that isn’t a real bed so… I don’t know, maybe it was a dumb suggestion. You can forget about it, I’ll take the couch—”

You interrupted him with a burst, shaking your hands in front of you to keep Jason from getting up. “Oh, no no no. It’s fine, it's fine. Really, it’s cool. We can— we can share the bed I don’t mind. It’s a smart idea. Just, ya know, be careful with your stitches and bandages. I’d hate for you to worsen any injuries in your sleep.” You tried to sound calm and collected, but really you were shaking with excitement and nerves. Jason just nodded slowly, still looking a little unsure at your agreement, but he moved to step out of his armor anyway.

You walked over to your side of the bed, and started fiddling with random nick nacks on your nightstand to try and appear busy while Jason got undressed behind you. Lord almighty, it was taking every ounce of your strength not to look behind you and oogle at what you knew were rippling muscles. “Focus, gotta get through this night without making a fool of yourself.” You thought as you felt the bed dip on the other side, signaling Jason was ready to sleep.

With that, you turned the lamp off and slipped underneath the covers. Jason copied you wordlessly and you both laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling in silence. The air was so thick with tension it was near suffocating, but the two of you were too scared to speak and break the spell of the night. You unconsciously let out a little sigh and turned on your side so your back was facing Jason. You closed your eyes to try and force yourself to sleep, but your mind was hyper vigilant at this point. You could feel the bed dipping to accommodate Jason’s gigantic form on the other side. You weren’t used to sharing this space with anyone, and the fact that you could feel his breath through the mattress had your mind in a frenzy. You were fighting every fiber of your being that was telling you —no, begging you to move closer to the man beside you.

Jason was pleading with the universe in hopes that you couldn’t hear how his heart was thundering in his chest. For someone who’s lying down, his breathing sure is quick. Jason thought this would be enough. Just having you near by, occupying the same space, he thought that’d be enough to satisfy his urge to be near you. But for some goddamn reason, it’s making it worse. How can you be so close yet so far? How much closer can he get before he crosses a line? Jason blames his exhaustion for his next move.

Out of nowhere, you feel something heavy curl around your waist. Your eyes pop open in surprise, and you have to force your body to be still. Jason uses the arm draped across your middle to pull you closer to him. Your back presses against his solid chest and you forget what it was ever like to be cold. You can feel warmth seeping into your skin from every point of contact between the two of you. You can feel each breath Jason takes pushing into your back and you can feel the speeding rhythm of his heart, which you’re sure is close to the speed of your own. Your lips have curled into a smile and you’re fighting off a sigh of contentment.

“Is—is this okay?” Jason’s question comes out in an unsure whisper. If you hadn’t been so close you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Yeah, this is okay.” You reassure at an equal volume, worried that being any louder would shatter the moment. Your smile has evolved into a full on grin.

“Okay.” Jason mutters and then presses his head into the curve of your neck. His muscular arm tightens around your waist and his hand grips your shirt gently. You subconsciously shuffle further into him, though, you didn’t think there was anyway you could physically get any closer. Still, any space left between the two of you was eliminated. Your two breaths became one as your heartbeats synced up. You could feel Jason’s warm breath against your neck and it sent shivers down your spine. Jason felt so warm and happy, here with you in his arms. Holding you felt like a reward he didn’t deserve. He only hopes he’ll be able to do this again…and again, and again, and again.

You’ve never felt so safe as you do in Jason’s arms. It’s almost euphoric, being like this with him. You never want this moment to end, but the warmth of Jason’s embrace is quickly dragging you under the spell of sleep. You hope you wake up with him in the morning, you hope this isn’t a dream. You two have probably crossed some sort of line tonight, not that either of you care right now. The unclear nature of your relationship with the vigilante is something for you to wrestle with in the morning. For now, you’ll fall asleep wrapped in Jason’s arms, with the happy thought that he’ll surely be coming back to do this again.

[digonthis]

Catered Audience- Pt. 3

Spencer Agnew x f!Reader

2.2k words

( ᴅᴍ ᴏʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴀɢ :] )

slow burn-ish, fluff, mutual pining, all that shit

part 1 part 2

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧♡‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

You were honestly surprised by the amount of friends you’d made just from catering for Smosh. At Mythical you had a few people you’d stop and chat with casually, just regular small-talk stuff. But every time you showed up here you seemed to make at least a few new friends, the kinds of friends you could actually see yourself hanging out with regularly.

That day, you had caught some guy inspecting the order receipt. Thinking you’d messed up, a conversation started and soon enough it was casual chit chat, something like what old friends would do. He said his name was Alex, a good friend of Kiana who had apparently brought you up one or twice in conversation the last little while. He was happy to answer your somewhat silly questions about what his job was like as you finished up your work, but a question of his own stopped you in your tracks.

“Have you seen the little moments of fame you’ve had on the channel lately?”

He brought it up as casually as you would the latest news report or a change in the weather, but the topic had your heart beating a little faster. “I think it’s absolutely hilarious, and between you and me I did think that Spencer guy was super funny!” 

You lean on your cart as you bring Spencer up, the truth was that you’d been watching Smosh in the background during all your cooking lately, primarily videos where he’d been present. That was only a little bit on purpose. “I mean like- in the video I watched you guys film. I love Limp Bizkit, so the impression killed me. And he was so funny and full of energy, even if he sucked at darts! I was cheering for him the whole time, even though it was pretty obvious he wasn’t gonna win-” You cut yourself off suddenly, realizing you’d started to ramble about a guy you’ve never met to a complete stranger.

Alex, sensing he’d really caught your attention, proceeded to hype Spencer up. Coolest guy in the office, super nice, super fun to be around. Absentmindedly, he crumpled and uncrumpled the catering receipt in the pocket of his jacket as he spoke. You were pretty much hooked on every word, all the while trying and failing to keep a casual look about the whole thing. “It’s pretty impressive, you know. The amount of credit you’re getting without even being in the studio. If people didn’t already know you for the bangin’ food they definitely know you now…” He says, and you sense a small ulterior motive behind his words.

“Hell, you could come to the office Christmas party and nobody would even bat an eye…” He says slyly, sipping his drink as wheels turn in your head.

“Uh… I dunno about that much, hm. Wouldn’t want to cause a fuss or be out of place or anything…” You say, the social anxiety already creeping up on you. What would you even say? What would you do? Who would you talk to? What would you wear? You noticed your hands moving a little more quickly and messily as you packed everything up, barely listening as he continued. “I’m sure everyone would be happy to see you, you know. No pressure or anything, just an idea.”

He left the room after dropping that idea, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of being nothing more to Smosh than a one-off joke was a little saddening, especially after enjoying conversations with people as much as you had. Fading to the background now would mean likely losing a lot of that interaction, but the alternative was arguably worse, crashing a company Christmas party and hoping people like that plan. If they didn’t… well, the idea sent a shiver down your spine.

You spent the next few weeks as usual, scolding yourself internally as the christmas party came to your mind more than a few times. You busied yourself in your work, prepping excessively and way too far in advance, just as an excuse to give your mind something to do other than think about it.

In one of the videos you watched as you worked, a ‘who knows me best’ starring Spencer, Angela mentioned you again. You refused to look at the screen, not even wanting to see how anyone reacted, but like any other video it was only minutes before you were rewinding the video, pausing and zooming and analyzing people’s reactions to you. Giggles were audible behind the camera and Angela had a big shit-eating grin on her face, but Spencer was what you really cared about. 

The way he pursed his lips, shoulders shaking to give away his quiet chuckle before he finally broke into a small smile. You told yourself the light blush across his cheeks was the lighting, and forced your eyes away. Back to work, a blush forming on your own cheeks as you continued.

As you finally sat down on the couch, you felt your phone buzz from your pocket. Fishing it out, an email from Smosh was the first thing you saw. You immediately perked back up, despite your exhaustion. and cracked open a redbull. A gigantic and fairly extravagant order, definitely meant for the holiday party. You were surprised at the quality of the ingredients they were springing on, nothing like golf leaf or caviar but a lot of high-ticket products that made you cringe when sending over the price quote. 

Within minutes they had agreed without protest, and the redbull had already been downed. You decide against watching any more Smosh for your mental health’s sake, so you throw on some vinyl and get to work.

After a few days of non-stop work, you were glad to have a regularly scheduled dinner delivery to Smosh, as a break from being alone and doing nothing but baking. The christmas party order had an insane amount of sweets, so you’d been making plenty of cakes, cookies, squares, bars… thinking about it too long makes your head hurt.Wheeling your cart into the studio as usual put a smile on your face quickly though, as you immediately met Angela’s eye.

“What’s for dinner today?” She asks, falling into step with you as she attempts to peek under the foil of the containers. “At least let me put them on the counters first!” You giggle, quickening your pace a little to tease her. “Whatever it is, it smells so good…” 

As the two of you walk along and chat, you lock eyes with the same guy you’d met last time. The one who suggested you come to the christmas party, Alex. He smiles, waving to you and Angela. “What’s up? Did you convince her to come yet?” “Come to what?” Angela asks. “I just tracked her down now, haven had time to ask anything yet…” She adds mischievously, a smirk on her face.

“I just meant the christmas party” Alex returns pointedly. It felt like there was something in this conversation you couldn’t fully understand, but you didn’t have time to ponder this as Angela’s hand shot to your shoulder, an excited glint in her eye. “You gotta come, it’ll be so fun! The girls are planning matching outfits and there’s always great drinks and people and something crazy always happens, it’s such a good time…” She continues her rant on and on until you’ve got all the food set up and people start making plates. The only thing that seemed to stop her tirade was the idea that something would run out before she’d get to eat.

You sigh and lean against the wall, finally having a moment of peace. You still found it to be a horrible idea, like crashing a party you weren’t meant to be at. Alex seemed to read your mind, leaning next to you.

“She has a point, somewhere in all that rambling. People would love to have you there, but… no pressure.”

He seemed apprehensive at the end of the statement, pondering something to himself before deciding to stay quiet. Needing to break it, you voiced your own opinion.

“It’s just so foreign to me, I guess. I’m not technically part of the company, or really ever been part of a company. It’s always just been me working for me, I have no clue how to act at a work party. It’s not my party to go to, and it’d just be too… weird.”

To your surprise, Alex didn’t argue your opinion. Just nodded and shrugged. “You’re not weird. Nobody would think you’re weird. From what I've seen, you have a knack for getting people to favour you, especially when you throw in a freebie with the order.”

With that strange anecdote he left the room casually, leaving you to think. What did he mean? At least it was good that people liked you but what freebies had you-

oh.

oh.

Why the fuck did he know about that???

You were a little glad he had left the room and wasn’t witnessing your little freak out, packing your things quickly and getting out of there as fast as possible. Selina caught you by the door before you can leave, your frazzled expression worrying her. “Who is Alex… close friends with?” You ask awkwardly as she tries to get you to spill whatever is on your mind. “Ah, he’s a super friendly guy but he’s definitely closest with Spenc-” “Nope!” You cut her off blankly, carting your shit out of the building without explanation leaving poor Selina confused and worried for you.

Alex must’ve talked to Spencer about you. Spencer must’ve talked about you to Alex. He took that receipt. How much does he know? What is there to know at all? Why did you tell Alex, a whole stranger that much the other day? You stand in front of your car door, weighing your options.

You could storm back in there, track him down and make him swear to secrecy. Search his office for the receipt, and threaten him for any information he had about you.

You could… drive all the way to Canada, change your name and start a new life?

You could grab a pint of ice cream and watch movies alone on your apartment until you fall asleep…

You went with the third option.

Ben and Jerry weren’t the best at giving advice but they sure did provide a comfort that you needed, until your phone buzzed with a instagram DM from Selina checking in. You assured her you were fine, but she wanted to know more. Within minutes you caved and sent paragraphs upon paragraphs of everything, from initially seeing Spencer to making the stupid cupcake to Alex and the receipt to the christmas party, and all Selina had to say in response was… laughing emojis. You threw your phone against the wall and fell asleep promptly.

Soon enough, it was the day of the christmas party and you were in a bit of a craze from all the cooking and baking you’d been submerging yourself in to forget about your feelings. You couldn’t help but feel proud as you looked over the vast expanse of food you’d made, the intricate and huge gingerbread house the star of the show. 

Once everything was packed into your car, you felt a slight pang of dread. It would be the first time going back to Smosh since Alex’s little comment and your realization that Spencer probably knew more about you than you thought, but you quickly shook the feeling away. You had planned for this, it would take you a long time to set everything up at the venue so you’d given yourself plenty of time, enough so that you would be out the door and gone before any partygoers even show up. Keys in ignition and brave face on, you headed out.

The venue was just as extravagant as the catering order. It took you a few trips to get everything in, the only other person already there was Ian himself, and you insisted you didn’t need his help bringing things in. You hadn’t had the chance to speak with him much prior, but he was really nice and very complimentary to your work, especially the gingerbread house and gingerbread cookie of himself. You were having a great time talking to him, pleasantly surprised with his interest in the process of making everything, until you were tackled from behind with a hug.

“Thank God you decided to show!” Shrieked a voice so energetic it could only be Angela’s. “I knew you would, I did! I should have got you the dress to match, shit! This is gonna be so fun, don’t even worry-”

Ian looked at you confused as you gently pried her off, trying to quiet the excitement down so you could get going. “Show… for what?” He asked, catching Angela’s attention. “The party! I told her to come but she insisted she wouldn’t, but I think Alex changed her mind…” 

“Um, no. Sorry… I was just dropping the stuff off…” You interject awkwardly, gesturing to the tables of food and dessert you’d just finished arranging. Ian took the brief silence as an opportunity to make you an offer that had your stomach dropping.

“Whatever we’re paying you for all this food definitely isn’t enough. The least I could do is let you eat some of it! Since it seems you’re friendly with the cast, it only makes sense.” He says casually, a completely oblivious smile on his face.

The only thing worse than intruding on a party was rejecting an invite once you’re already there. With Angela looking at you so hopefully and Ian sharing such a gracious offer, you really couldn’t say no without being insanely rude, so you nodded and smiled, your brain going haywire.

“Thanks, I hope I'm dressed okay, I really didn’t plan on staying…” You smooth your slightly wrinkled shirt down before Angela places a hand on yours. “Have you ever seen our costume department?”

The grin on her face tells you that you would be seeing it soon.

(A/N- ɪ ᴘʀᴇᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ɪғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ғᴡ ᴛʜɪs ! ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀs ɢᴏ ᴜᴘ sᴏ ɪғ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs ɪʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ! ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴊᴜɪᴄʏ ᴋɪss ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛs ᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ )

Part 4>>

[thevoidstaredback]

Every man has his breaking point. Danny's is just a bit higher than everyone else's because he's a king and has a high tolerance for absolute bull shit. No matter how strong that bar is, though, one can only bend so far before snapping.

Unfortunately for everyone around him, Danny has reached his breaking point.

"I wish I could get drunk," he stared into his drink longingly, "Or high. But mostly drunk."

"Why do ya say that?" Billy asked, tilting his head curiously to the left.

Danny sighed, "It's a long story."

"I've got time." he shrugged.

"Are ya sure?" Danny raised an eyebrow. "You don't think any emergencies are gonna crop up? Nothing you'll need to go take care of?"

Billy backed off a little, folding into his seat. "What're you talking about? I'm just some kid on the street. I ain't going anywhere."

Danny rolled his head from side to side. "Mostly, I'm talking about the JL meeting the both of us are gonna skip out on tonight."

"What-?"

"C'mon, Captain, it won't do to talk here," he stood, picking up his coffee and waiting for Billy to do the same.

Billy's eyes narrowed as he looked Danny up and down. "I don't recognise you," he whispered, "Who are you."

Danny produced another calling card from his sleeve as he sipped his drink, holding it in front of himself but not handing it over. When Billy was looking at it, he flipped it over. The white background turned matte black, all the runes in the Ouroboros turning so white that they glowed. The DP in the very middle tinted blue, pulsing with toxic green energy, slightly cold to the touch. The edges started to frost over.

Quickly, Billy pulled the card Danny had given him before from the inner pocket of his jacket. It, too, had changed to match the one Danny held, though there was no longer a DP in the middle. Instead, it said 'Phantom' in fancy calligraphy.

"No way," the kid muttered, his expression awestruck, "Phantom? That's you? No shit?"

Danny chuckled, tucking the card away again, "No shit, kid. Don't tell anyone, though. You're the only one who knows."

"Really?" he squeaked.

"Really."

***

Having someone know his whole story was refreshing, just as he's sure Billy felt good to have someone know his, too. That didn't stop him from feeling bad about dumping it all on the poor kid.

"I still wish I could get drunk," Phantom lamented."

Constantine looked up from the book he was reading. "You can't get drunk?"

"Nope."

"How'd ya figure that one out, kid?"

"Please don't call me a kid."

That's not good. The blond marked the page before setting the book to the side. Phantom had never actually asked him to stop calling him a kid. "What's wrong?" He didn't normally do the whole 'feelings' things, but the was an exception.

Phantom sighed long and sad. He didn't look up from the carpet. "I told you they were going to ask invasive questions."

"Who was it?" It was more of a demand then a question.

"Red Robin,"

"Red- I thought you would've skipped town when we were done there? I sure as hell did."

"I know you did, but I decided to stick around for a bit. Wander, y'know? Red Robin caught up to me and would leave me alone."

Oh, oh no. Those were tears. Were they? Yeah, shit, they are! John is not equipped to handle this!

Phantom sniffled. "He asked me how I died."

Fuck.

John Constantine is not easy to anger. Sure, he gets tired, and irritated, and a whole slew of emotions, but he is very slow to anger.

Phantom, he knows, is not a child. The ghost can very much take care of himself in basically every way one could think of. He saved the world on his own, several times, when he was fourteen. He became a King and Protector when he was fourteen. He died when he was fourteen.

Right now, all he could see was the child who hadn't ever been properly laid to rest. It was hard not to call Phantom a child when he seemed so small, seeking comfort from anyone. Phantom was crying. He'd retreated to the House and locked himself in Constantine's room, only talking when he was ready to, but he'd waited to cry.

Phantom didn't like crying. Every person in the JLD knew this.

No. John Constantine is not quick to anger, but he is scary when he reaches that point. Batman might be the night and vengeance and all that shit, but John Constantine was wrathful.

He sat beside Phantom and let the ghost lean into him and cry. He didn't like dealing with feelings, but this was a child in need of comfort and he was the only one around to offer it. "Do you really want me to stop calling you 'kid'?"

A sniffle and a small head shake. "No."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"...sure."

"How old are you really? As a ghost, not as a human or a halfa. How old are you?"

"Fourteen." he mumbled, "I'll never be any older than fourteen, John," he was getting a bit hysterical now, "I'll never be any older than fourteen! I-I died and-and now I have to rule and-and people keep asking and no one believes me and-!" A sob cut him off, heavy with grief and wet with tears. He cried for hours, giving up on trying to form words. Constantine let him, ignoring the wet patches on his shirt. Eventually, Phantom's sobs died down into hiccups. "I didn't...I'm- I'm sorry."

"It's alright, mate," he meant it, really and truly.

Phantom rubbed his eyes, "I'm gonna go hide somewhere."

"Not gonna share where?"

"No, I want to be alone for a while." He paused at the door, "Whatever you're gonna do, will you leave Captain Marvel out of it?"

Odd request, but, "Alright," he nodded, "I'll talk to the others." And by 'talk', he means lecture. There are boundaries that one shouldn't cross, and not asking the dead how they died should've been obvious! With his League issued communicator, John called an emergency meeting in one hour, required attendance, barring Captain Marvel. First things first, though, he needed to talk to Deadman.

Part 7 Storyboard

Tag List:

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[possiblylando]

HTP; Ghoul Lore Audio Log Spoilers/Analysis/Discussion

Dude holy shit uh Spoiler barrier and then all in cause

Okay Okay fuck where to begin this episode literally changes everything okay I guess lets start at the Draught. Based on what we know about this unique Draught, it means Grimal might not be the ghoul?? If the ghoul potentially has this Draught (which I vaguely doubt will come into play in this arc specifically) it could mean anyone could be the ghoul so long as they were only in a place without 1 other person. Atleast I assume so because if they could use this high power Dominate on multiple people simultaneously then this whole operation would be cooked from the start. While I was very mixed on the idea of Gloria as the Ghoul previously, I think its far more possible now. This high level Dominate (Lets assume 4 dots) This ghoul could have access to Rationalize or Forgetful Mind, Or any others in that category. If Grimal is was being commanded to act that could explain why everything is so suspicious around her. Have someone else go in and take care of Occam while the ghoul sits with someone else and has the perfect alibi. So now I think the possibilities for Ghoul are; 1. Grimal is the Ghoul (The Draught is a red herring and simply setting up something in a future arc instead of this current one.) 2. Gloria is the Ghoul & has this Draught; this is based more on Vibes and the fact Gloria doesn't actually do too much in part 1 outside checking Occam's pulse. If she's the ghoul and commanded someone (Namely Grimal) to attack Occam, she would have a vested interested in knowing if the attack was successful. Okay thats about it for my thoughts on the Ghoul right now. Onto the far more important bit of this episode. Because this was not simpyl a Ghoul Lore episode, THIS WAS A MARCKUS LORE EPISODE TROJAN HORSE.

But before the deep Marckus shit- Markus was 12 in 1988. Door was present and seems to be in his 20s or 30s. Boy has not been born yet and Boy is 11 in 2006 so he was born in like 1995. So I think its reasonable to place door as being in his 20s here, having Boy in his 30s. This means Door is probably 8-15? (Maybe) years older than Markus which would make him roughly 40 in modern day. D does look markedly younger in these photographs but I'm not sure if thats art style or actually because he's aged. It does put a damped on my thoughts about D being MUCH older than he seems. But we do know his previous Ex-Wife Rozalia (The Ghoul) is roughly 108 in modern day. It seems to be implied D had met & later married her after she was pretty deep into being a ghoul so there probably was a large age gap already. But it still kinda stands out to me. D is very afraid or Marckus becoming a Ghoul because he sees himself in him. I don't necessarily think D was a ghoul (thought it could explain his weird age). Thought all this might be confirmation Bias as in the more recent episodes D's hair has been more consistently colored with grey streaks when compared to earlier episodes where it was more like a sheen in his hair. It just feels like D has done too much to only be roughly in his 60-70s and very fit. While older people can certainly be in good physical condition it doesnt seem like D has suffered any real negatives from aging? He's MINIMUM 18 years older than Door who is in his 40s but again that's a low ball. I don't know. Alright time for the Marckus stuff. So its rather basic background knowledge that HTP's main cast is inspired by the cast of Warhammer 40k TTS. Now up until this point I had thought it was mostly a baseline thing. Only really carrying over personalities and vague relationships between characters while having the freedom to change them with that background knowledge. But based on this episode it appears to be more relevant.

Whatever the fuck Marckus managed to summon, It was something not even D understood. This is in directly parallel with 40k's Magnus who Marckus is based on. For those who don't know about 40k lore (I don't blame you its VERY long.), Magnus is a Primarch (Emperor's special kids) who ended up being manipulated by 40k's god of trickery and ended up fucking up literally everything because of his lack of thinking things through and the influence of said trickster god. Gods in 40k are manifestations of humanity (and alien's) collective subconscious minds and often take the forms of their most volatile negative aspects. They're entited formed from 'The Warp' which is the source of magic in 40k. Magnus is very naturally tuned to the warp. Almost all the issues in TTS (and 40k) relating to Magnus are because he has a MASSIVE complex. He craves parental affection and affirmation but in TTS every time he thinks hes denied it, some shit goes wrong. When he actually gets that parental affection (Earlier season 2 iirc) he mellows out alot until finding out the only reason the emperor (D's counterpart) brought him back was so that Magnus would act as a pawn and decoy in his 5d chess game to deal with political enemies. Magnus is not happy about this. With all this background information, whats present in this episode slots into place. Marckus seems to have forgotten about the incident yes. The better case is that he blocked out the memory due to trauma. But the worse possibility is that a seed was planted. One that's been festering within him since that time. D may be planning to tell Marckus everything in a few months, But I get the feeling before those months are up, That seed will sprout. In one form or another, Marckus will be given the option to go down the same path of darkness as his predecessor. I don't think Marckus would go for such a path without a push but the one providing that push might be D, even if unintentionally. D is so focused on the forest that he's missing the trees.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Summer Breeze 3

Warnings: age gap (reader is 22, Andrew is mid 40s), dad’s friend, Andy being Andrew, other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

Despite the late night, the rest if the house, even your sad, wake up before noon. You would have rather headed down to the beach sooner but you didn't want to be rude. You are a guest after all. 

Jacob and his buddies take a frisbee out in the water as Andy mentions jet-skis to you dad. He offers you to join but you decline, waving your book and towel at him. You know your dad won't appreciate the tagalong and you don't think the whole jet-ski thing is for you. 

You spray yourself with heavy spf and hunker in to get into the meat of the novel you've barely been able to nibble on. The sand is hot under the towel, the sun beats down, and the water softly laps over the silt. It's like an ad for a resort. 

You flip your sunglasses down as you recline, shielding yourself further with book. You're quickly enraptured as Jacob and his friends fade into the background and the distant tear of engines waft over the lake. The only thing you're missing is a proper drink. You brought a water bottle as you didn't bother to bring any coolers with you. The thought of drinking around your dad is still weird. It feels almost like condoning his bad habits.  

You flip the pages, melting into your towel as the heat roils through the air. The frisbee flies onto the sand and Jacob runs up to grab it. Taylor yells at him to hurry up. 

"Hey," Jacob waves at you, "wanna join?" 

You peek over the top of the book. You should enjoy the water for a bit. Besides, you're starting to feel a bit ostracized. 

"Sure," you mark your page and stand up. You peel off your crochet cove-rup and lick your flip flops away. "Monkey in the middle?" 

He chuckles as he turn to the water, though you don't miss the none-to-subtle peek at your bikini. 

"Just flinging it around," he shrugs, "you looked bored." 

"Toss it, Jacob," Van snaps, "jesus." 

Jacob hurls the frisbee, making his bossy friend run for it. You space yourself out to join the lazy catch and glide. You're quiet as you listen in on their conversation about third year. They're a year behind you. 

"So, never been to your campus," Taylor says, "are the girls hot?" 

"Charming," Jacob rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, but so are the guys," you stick your tongue out, "heavy competition." 

Taylor frowns as the other three laugh at him. You wouldn't say they aren't cute but definitely not the type that stun at first sight. Average but average isn't so bad. You're about the same.  

"Damn," Taylor mutters.  

The conversation shifts to the game they were talking about last night. Some role play. They're going to a festival or something? You're not too sure. 

As you toss the disc, you hear something across the water. You squint as one of the engines suddenly silences. There's a lull and another rips through the air. You tilt your head and lift your sunglasses as you try to see across the distance. It's only dark specks. 

The frisbee lands a foot behind you. You got to get it and hurl it between Taylor and Cam. The motor quiets, a low putter, and you find your gaze drawn back to the scene. You can't make it out but you have a weird feeling. 

As you stare out, the engine roars again. The small dot gets bigger and bigger, closer and closer. The jet-ski cuts up towards the shore, near enough that you feel the ripples but far enough not to be a hazard. You gasp as you see how your sad is draped over the front of the seat in front of Andy.  

You push through the water and yell out. Holy shit. As you get to the sand, you notice the red smeared over your father's silver hair. No.  

"What happened?" You shriek as Andy climbs up and grunts as he tries to haul your dad down to the ground. 

"Told him to slow down," Andy pants, "he wouldn't listen--" 

"Is he-- shit! Is he okay?" Your eyes glisten as your voice trembles. 

"Dad," Jacob comes up behind you. 

"Boys, go back to the house," Andy snarls. 

"Wait! What--" 

"Just listen. Go inside." He snarls and turns his attention back to you, "we gotta get him to the car." 

You can't think, you can barely see as tears rise with your panic and disbelief. It can't be real. There's so much blood. So much. 

"Dad," you quaver as you step closer. 

"Goddamnit, someone help me with him," Andy barks, "Taylor, you're strong. Get over here." 

You blink as time slows and the daylight blurs to obscure sounds and streaks. This is supposed to be a vacation. What's happening? 

[romanarose]

hey! i just saw your supportive logan fic for writer gf, and i was wondering if you would be open to writing something for chronic pain? the (gn! if possible!) reader having severe chronic pain, mostly in their legs, that prevents them from walking sometimes when a flare up is particularly bad. the reader just kinda feeling hopeless and so tired because there’s no cure to their condition. just really soft cuddles and comfort, ya know?

totally chill if this isn’t something you’re up for writing or isn’t the vibe! <3

thank you!!

Hi friend!!! I suffer from fibromyaglia and i fucking SUCKS so yes, I'd love to write this for you! GN read is 100% good, i'll write all kinds of readers.

Here you go!

Supportive Logan Thoughts: Chronically Ill Partner

Logan Howlett x gn!reader

Summary: Logan takes care of you

Warnings: Chronic pain

************

When Logan came in after work, the house looked exactly the same as he left it, from the banana peel on the counter from breakfast to your shoes you always took off in the middle of the hall, which (lovingly) drove him a bit insane. It's not that he expected you to do housework while he was gone or anything, but it was a sure sign that no, you weren't feeling better.

"Honey?" Logan called.

"Upstairs!"

Logan opened the bedroom door to find you in the dark, only lit by the dim glow of the TV playing reruns of your favorite show. He took a seat down on the bed, brushing the apple of your cheeks. "Hurting pretty bad, is it?"

You give a little nod, looking up at him. "Sorry, I didn't get anything done..."

"Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

A little whine escaped your mouth, lip quivering. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have too, Lo, you just worked a ten hour day-"

With a playful smile, Logan pinched your lips together, making you giggle a little. "I'll survive doing a few dishes. You rest, I'll make dinner."

With a little kiss to your forehead, Logan did his best to prepare something you'd like. He was no chef, but after being alive all these years he was no idiot, and could cook pretty well. Plus, this was far from the first time your pain and exhaustion mad it hard to do anything. You liked to cook for him, but Logan liked to return the favor too. He liked taking care of you. He liked cooking for you and helping you bath and nursing you when the days were too hard.

"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey!" He enters the bedroom again. "I lied, there's no eggs. Or Bacon. But I did make soup."

"Soup!" You exclaim, happily sitting up.

"There yuh are..." Logan smiles at seeing you animated again.

After you eat, Logan carries you into a warm bath, gently rubbing down your soapy body in a massage, careful with the tender spots. He works on your legs where he knows it hurts the most, making sure to massage the feet too, where he knows pain can start.

"You're really sweet, you know." You mumble sleepily. Doing nothing all day really takes it out of your when your own body feels like it hates you. "I know you pretend you aren't. But you are."

"Oh, I know." He teases. "You should see me at work. I can't get shit done because I'm smelling every damn daisy out there. I've been written up 3 times."

You can help but laugh at the idea of your big, hunky boyfriend laying on grass, kicking his feet as he smells a wild flower, his boss in the background shaking his fist.

"Oh I bed. Do you also break for butterflies?"

"Every damn day. Can't go a block without hitting my breaks. Hard to get anywhere."

You're giggling now, feeling better as Logan drains the bath. He starts to towel you down before picking you up and carrying you to bed.

"Thank you. For all you do for me." You snuggle up next to him watching your silly little shows. The pain is a little better, but still hurts.

Logan's lips are kissing your neck and face. you know he's not trying to initiate sex, just showing how much he loves just existing with you. "I like doing it, baby. I know it seems like I'm bullshitting you, but when it's for someone you love... really there's nothing easier."

*********

Thanks for the ask!!!!!! feel free to send more in!

[so1arso1stice]

can u write bottom!ningning x fem!reader? Any plot you have in mind 🥹

ofc i can!

VERSACE PRINCESS

———————————————————

f!bottom!idol!ningning x fem!switch!reader

summary: ningning was gone the whole day at a Versace event, and she had missed her girl so SO much ;)

warnings: smut, tongue play, sloppy kisses, overstimulation (ish), freaky shit in general, fingering, pet names, praising, after-care, a bit of fluff at the end

an: YESS IM SO HAPPY MY FIRST ASK IS A NINGNING SUGGESTION!!! ningning my girl frfr

the ending kinda sucks ik that im bad at writing endings from time to time so give me peace 🙏🏾

———————————————————

it was 9pm, and you were on the couch watching tv, not! the tv was only just background noise to you, you were only looking at the door to see if you girlfriend, ningning had gotten back from her Versace event yet. at this point you’ve been waiting for around 2 hours for her and you’ve started to think that she’ll just come home in the morning. so you decide to try and actually find something good on tv to actually watch and you managed to find a show that’ll keep you occupied. after a couple minutes your eyes were glued to the tv.

until you heard keys jangling and the door rattling open, with an exhausted ningning walking into the house. you ran up to hug and kiss her “babe! i’ve missed you so much!” you said. you really, truly missed her; BAD. she did kiss and hug you back but they were more sloppy than her more classy, organized, kisses. you paid it no mind, it wasn’t the first time you guys were sloppy kissing.

ning says, in a more tired tone, “get on the bed, i have something for you.” she then whispers something in your ear,

“i want that pussy of yours so bad…”

you had a slight breath hitch. all you could do is just nod, go upstairs and get on the bed. you were contemplating on taking off your pants or waiting for ningning to do so, but you decided to take them off for her. (so kind of you 😊)

she walks into the bedroom and you were already on the bed, in a cute little pose for her. “damn,” “all dolled up for me?” she smirks “you really want to get ruined, huh?” you could only nod. you loved days when ningning was dominate!

she gave you a little pat on the head “mmm, my cute girl..” she sat down on the bed next to you and couldn’t stop looking at your already dripping wet pussy. she went to go and put her fingers in first, which already caused you to start opening up your legs. all she could do was lightly snicker. she loved whenever you acted like this, easily submitting to her. the sight was perfect in her eyes. she started to pump her fingers in and out, harder and harder. you couldnt help but start spewing out moans. this filled ningning with pure happiness, her favorite sound is your moans. she continue to pump her fingers in and out and you continued to moan those stunning moans.

“baby, i-im close…” you said. around this time, ningning was only fingering you for 8 minutes, that’s by far the quickest she’s ever made you cum. you could see her smirking. you could tell she was enjoying every second of this “cum for me, baby” were the only thing she said. without warning she added a third finger, very eager for you to cum “i can believe you’re about to cum so fast”

the third finger definetly you did leave you in some shock. you honestly felt like you were about to cum all over her. “your the only one who makes me feel like this, that’s why” you barely managed to speak out. you felt a pure state of joy. ningning has never really fingered you like this before, it seems like she’s extra eager to see you cum.

“ning, baby—“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you cummed all over her fingers. you could see her smile an actual smile of happiness. “good girl. let’s see if i can make you cum again” she smirks as she goes to face your pussy. again, without warning, she sticks her tongue up your pussy, eating up all of the excess cum still on you. you honestly felt like you could just cum again by the feeling of this. never ever has ningning been so eager to eat you out. (she had a long day so it’s ok 😄 )

ningning honestly felt like she could die at this moment. she was keeping her dominance but inside she felt an indescribable state of bliss. she didn’t even notice how fast and deep she was licking up your insides. she was pumping her tongue in and out, occasionally touching your g-spot.

again, you felt close “baby…” ningning’s eyes were closed and she could barely even speak. she just made a little “hm?” sound, with her mouth not daring to leave your cunt.

“i’m close… a-again” you could feel ningning smirking at you. you felt kind of embarrassed but didn’t really care, she knows what she’s doing.

ningning lifted up your legs, holding them up in the air. this sight was beautiful for the both of you. your pov: had ningning beautifully eating you out. and ningning’s pov: had her eating out the girl of her dreams.

“baby, i’m gonna cum again” ningning could barely even react. you hot cum had came slowly into her mouth. finally, she had backed up from your pussy to look at her beautiful, fucked out girl. “awh baby, you tired?”

you nodded. you felt kind of ashamed because you usually last longer. the ashamed-ness quickly washed away with your beautiful girlfriend giving you praises such as “my sweet girl” “i love you” “you did great”

“i’ll be right back my sweet” she then goes to get a towel and cleans you up. “awh baby! you shouldn’t have!”

“i wanted to, you deserve after care” she goes to kiss your forehead before getting into bed next to you to cuddle.

“my versace princess” you say as you kiss her on the cheek, eventually falling asleep in her arms.

[charliehoennam]

forever home

a/n: i rewatched the office and it was that episode where jim buys pam a house 🥰

pairing: william miller x f!reader

warnings: none (i think. i suck with tags, sorry), just fluff, not proofread so sorry for any typos

It's almost 11 p.m.

You're sat on the couch, trying to keep your tired eyes open as you watch a rerun of Hell's Kitchen.

With Gordon Ramsey's yelling and cursing in the background, you lift your phone once more to check for any new messages but there aren't any. You open up the chat with Will on the messaging app and reread his last text.

"Having one for the road. Be home in 20. Love you 💚"

You don't want to be one of those nagging fianceés, but the urge to text or call him is just bubbling inside. That was almost an hour ago and you're starting to get worried.

What if something happened to him on the drive home? What if he got into a fight at the bar?

It would be a surprise, but it wouldn't be the first time. Despite the progress he's had through therapy, you know how he can be impatient at times and a little hot-headed too. And maybe a little cocky too, although he would only let that side shine through at Benny's matches.

The trust you have in each other is the one of the main foundations that you've built your relationship on. Opportunities like these are essential to remind, not only you, but also himself of how far he's come.

You remind yourself of that when you hear a car pulling into the condo's parking lot downstairs. It takes all of your willpower to refrain from racing to the window to make sure it's really him. Truthfully, you just want to know if he's alright.

Will's tired legs slowly his heavy body up the single flight of stairs that led up to your small and shared condo apartment. His arms are so sore that he can barely hold the keys in his hand as he unlocks the door. He's never felt so tired, even on his deployments.

For the past 3 months, Will and his team have been working on a new house. He'd gotten into the business of buying and flipping houses which has been working out really well for him.

He loved being able to work with his hands and there is something just so gratifying to him about seeing something come together so beautifully after lots of sweat, work and a little bit of blood whenever he's accidently hurt himself. Will was usually very cautious, but accidents can happen to anyone.

You always supported him and his career since he'd expressed his desire to get into the business. You're thankful he did. Will's really good at what he does and he genuinely loves being so handy.

One of the other perks is getting to watch him in action. There's something so attractive about watching your fiancé slam a sledgehammer to a wall. Will knows you like watching him too, so he'll flaunt his muscles off whenever you come around to bring him some materials or sweet treats for the team.

However, this specific project has really been taking up most of his time and you just cannot wait until it's done and sold.

As usual, Will and the guys get together every Friday night to catch up, watch a game and shoot the shit. It's their own way of making sure everyone - particularly Tom ever since the divorce - are still hanging in there.

Opening the front door to the apartment, he steps inside and locks the door with a tired sigh before near the open plan kitchen to set his wallet and keys on the breakfast counter.

"Hey, baby. Sorry I'm late. Tom got a little carried away with the beers and I had to give him a ride."

"It's alright, honey," you yawn. "Did the guys get home alright?"

You look over the back of the couch and watch him kick off his dusty work boots at the door. His work jeans are tattered, splattered with dried old paint and wood varnish. The faded tan jacket is peeled off his body and hung up on a hook.

A mental note is made in your mind to convince him to buy new clothes when you go out the next time, although you know that'd be a bit of hassle since he's too stubborn to waste money on himself. It's nothing a batting of eyelashes can't handle.

"Yeah, sweetheart. The other guys just had a couple beers, but you know Tom," he struts over as he shares with you, bending down to kiss you hello and plops himself on the couch beside you, manspreading his legs as a arm drapes of your lap, hand stroking your thigh. "He's really going through it."

"I can imagine. You been talking to him?"

"I have, yeah. Invited him to the support group, but you know how he can be."

You nod adjusting to lean closer and thread your fingers through his hair. His blonde eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, instantly melting under your touch.

"Yeah, I know, baby. But don't give up. You never know. He might just show up one day."

"I know, sweetheart," he smiles before opening his eyes as his head turns to face you with a gentle squeeze to your thigh. "How was your day, beautiful?"

"Just the same ol'. Made your favorite for dinner though" you smile watching the exhaustion in his eyes slowly fade.

"Pesto chicken alfredo pasta?"

His blue gleam with hope. His pretty pink lips stretch into a wide smile behind the golden whiskers of his beard. You chuckle at how happy he gets when it comes to food.

You know it stems from the lack of indulgence during his deployments. Will's no fussy eater, but when he's home, he indulges when he can to make up for the barely edible chow he and the guys had to eat. Although tasteless and sometimes expired, Will never had any problems with it because he knew the purpose wasn't to be good, but to keep him alive.

That's why he quickly back up on his feet and striding towards the kitchen to heat a plate up for himself, leaving you to snicker at his excitement. If there's one thing that the Miller brothers share, it's their appetite for food.

"How's the house coming along?"

"We finally fucking finished, babe," he grins plating the cold food. "It looks so good though. I cannot wait for you to see it. You are going to love it." Of course. He built it with you and your tastes in mind. "Tomorrow, I'm taking you to see it."

"Really?" you grin.

Your opinion is very important to Will and he always comes to you when he's got doubts and is in need of a feminine point of view, so it's not exactly uncommon for him to bring you to his projects for a look-around.

The next morning, you find yourself in his car listening to No Excuses by Alice In Chains.

With nothing else to do, you sing along to the song as Will drives steadily

“Can I please take this thing off?” you ask adjusting the blindfold he’s got on you. “I don’t want cops pulling us over thinking you’re kidnapping me.”

“Baby, no one’s gonna pull us over” he chuckles at the thought. “We’re almost there.”

You try to focus on the sounds beyond the car in an attempt to locate where you are, but the catchy tune playing from the stereo makes it impossible. The only thing you know for certain is that you’re not in the city. The familiar salty scent strikes you as clear as day.

“Are we at the beach?” your voice fills with excitement.

“You’ll see soon enough. We’re here. I’m gonna help you out of the car, hold on.”

You can hear the smile he’s got plastered on his face. Will finds it cleverly adorable how you figured part of his surprise out already. it's not enough to ruin it though.

Just as promised, he opens the car door and takes your hand to carefully help you out of the car with kind instructions. You hold onto his hand as you settle on the stony driveway. Although from a distance, you can still hear the ocean waves quietly splashing on the shore.

"Take a look," he grins anxiously untying your blindfold.

Your eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright light of the blue sky but, once it does, you freeze in awe of the house before you.

The mediterranean-style house is simple but large and elegant. Red Italian tiles and cream-colored paint exude a rustic and mysteriously familiar feeling that makes you feel at home.

Colorful flowers strategically planted grow in the grassy front lawn. Behind it, potted flowers sit on the low wall that encloses the small garden along the gated pathway to the door.

You and Will had talked about buying a house for a long time. Little did you know, Will had made a list in his precise mind of every little detail that you desired in your forever home.

"Will, this house is beautiful. You might have finally outdone yourself!"

He chuckles filled with relief and joy as he listens to you swoon over every small and carefully thought out detail of the exterior.

"C'mon, let's take a look."

He takes your hand and leads you up the pathwalk to unlock the door. You step inside the empty home and marvel at the space.

"Wow... It looks small from outside, but it's pretty big huh?"

"I thought so too. I kinda liked that about it."

"I love it! It's like a little illusion and then, you come in and it's just so much space," you grin roaming around each room slowly to take everything in.

"Do you like the windows?"

"Yeah, they're lovely. They really add to the mediterranean/contemporary vibe you got going on here. Can we see the kitchen? You know how much I love kitchens," you giggle excitedly.

"Of course. It's right over here."

"The floorplan is really nice and open too, huh? Oh, the sink! You installed the farmhouse sink! Undermount, too! The owners will love that."

Will smiles as he gazes at you, watching your reaction lovingly as you wander around the house and notice every tiny detail that Will spent countless hours pondering over to ensure you would have the house of your dreams.

The project cost him a pretty penny, but every single cent and drop of sweat he had spent investing into this home was certainly worth to see your eyes light up with every nook and cranny.

He led you to the backyard compete with a pool and beautiful stones and bright green plants that made it feel like your own little personal lagoon, with a wooden pathway that leads to a private gateway to the beach behind the house.

In truth, you feel like you're in paradise. You could spend every day in this house without the urge to leave it.

"So? What do you think?" he smiles holding your hips.

"I think this is your masterpiece, babe" you grin holding his strong biceps. "Do you have any buyers yet? I bet this will be the most expensive house you've sold yet."

"Actually, someone's already bought the place... This is ours."

You stare up at him in shock.

"A-Are you serious? You bought this place for us?"

"Mhm," he nods with a shit-eating grin. "The farmhouse sink, the red italian rooftop tiles, the little garden... It's everything that was on your list."

As tears fill your eyes, you hug him tightly and sniffle as your arms tighten around him. You want to thank him, but you're too speechless to say anything although your reaction says everything he needs to know.

You think back to all the long pillow talks you've had, where he'd casually asked you about little bits and pieces he should add to the project. You would have never guessed the project he'd been working on was your new home together.

The mere fact that Will had gone through so much trouble to make this house perfect to every desire makes your swell. Being designed by the love of your life is the finaal cherry on top.

"Thank you, Will," you mumble still stunned as you stare at your new backyard.

"Welcome home, babe."

[bandgie]

okay but could you do a gamer beomgyu and fem reader trying to distract him?

a/n: I literally can, I love this prompt thank you

synopsis: Both you and Beomgyu tend to get a little competitive when playing against each other. There's nothing you won't do to make sure you win.

warnings: MDNI 18+, handjob and boobies or whatever

1.3k words

Tetris is a fun, simple game. You're given randomized shapes one at a time to fit perfectly in a line within a confined area. If you run out of space, you lose.

Beomgyu and you love playing against each other. Even if he's your adoring boyfriend, he never goes easy on you. His competitiveness gets in the way of that even being an option, but you never minded it.

You now do though, considering that he's perfectly placing the blocks in strategic positions. You always thought yourself to be above average at Tetris, but Beomgyu quickly diminishes your confidence.

Both of you are seated facing his PC monitor on separate gaming chairs. It's torture like this, you're basically forced to watch Beomgyu climb up to your highest score while doing nothing about it.

You've already begged him to take it easy on you, but he just gave you a shit eating grin instead.

Fine then, two can play at that game.

Beomgyu can see out of the corner of his eye that you're adjusting your shirt. At first, he thinks you must be getting uncomfortable from sitting for so long. Then he sees you take off your top. Okay? Maybe you're just hot and wearing a tank top underneath.

"Hey Gyu...look."

He turns to you for a brief second before going back to the screen. It takes less than a second for it to click in his brain before he does a double take.

You're completely nude from the top, breasts bare for his viewing. Hands and fingers grope at your tits, pushing them together. You even jiggle them a little for extra effect.

Beomgyu can hear the game music in the background, but it's all becoming white noise. You can see him practically salivating at the sight. Just when you think you have him, he forces his head to swivel at the PC.

"I know what you're doing," he manages to choke out. "It won't work."

He's lying. It is working, even if it's just a little bit. His fingers stutter on the arrow keys as he misplaces a block. "Fuck."

"I'm not doing anything Gyu." Yet you are. You let your thumb roll over your nipples, pulling a soft moan out of yourself. You catch your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, gently pulling on them.

"Just wanna play with myself while you're playing with that. Is that bad?"

Beomgyu's adam's apple bobs as he thickly swallows. He remains silent.

As cute as it is that he's caught between being too flustered and too focused to reply, you decide to amp it up a bit. One hand remains at your chest while the other travels down his torso. Beomgyu squeals at the contact, looking at you exploring his body before he snaps back to the monitor.

He shivers and shifts in his seat when you dip lower. Fingers finding the band of his sweat pants and quickly going underneath them.

"You said you were going to play with yourself," Beomgyu is quick to remind you.

You hum in response, feeling his growing erection through his briefs. "Wanna play with this too."

Beomgyu is hardly focusing on the game at this point. He's continuously missing his chances to place the blocks correctly. His fingers moving either too fast or too slow.

His hips move in circles when you start palming over his underwear. Your hand moves up and down in a fluid motion, even dipping far enough to cup his balls. He whines when you give them a squeeze, hair falling over his eyes from moving so much.

"You're so mean," he pouts.

You stop your movements briefly, "Should I stop then?"

"I never said that."

God, you love him. There's no ounce of retaliation when you slip Beomgyu's cock from the slit of his boxers. Though you can't see it directly, you can see the tent form in his sweatpants.

It's tempting to reach down with your other hand and play with your folds, but you would get too distracted from your real mission. You'll have to settle with playing with your tits for now. Still, you're dreaming about being on Beomgyu's lap. Humping against his groin to relieve some of the pressure growing between your legs.

The feeling of Beomgyu's cock in your hands makes a whole new rush of arousal go through you. Your nipples harden from anticipation, and you satiate them by giving a harsh pinch to your chest.

Despite having your hand down his pants and softly stroking his cock, Beomgyu is heavily concentrating on Tetris. The veins on his neck are popping out and he's letting soft moans leave his lips, but his eyes are trained on the screen.

You grip him tighter, pumping him at a faster pace. Your thumb slides over his tip to collect some of his arousal to use for lubrication. You make sure to pull his skin down with every move of your hand.

Beomgyu is never quiet when you jerk him off, and that's ever present even now. He groaning more than anything, biting his lower lip in concentration rather harshly. One of his hands is gripping the underside of his desk while the other roughly punches the arrow keys.

"After I beat your stupid fucking score, I'm gonna fuck your stupid little cunt," he threatens.

Rather than feeling intimidated, you find yourself moaning at his words. There's nothing more you want than for Beomgyu to do that, but you can't give in. Not yet.

"If you beat my score," you correct.

He laughs, though it sounds strained, "When."

You glance at the screen to see that Beomgyu's right, he's awfully close to reaching and potentially beating your score.

Now you're nervous. Your pre-cummed hand stroking him with determination. His tip is sensitive. You can tell when he hisses every time your hand engulfs it.

Both of your hands now find their way to his cock, one on top of the other. You squeeze the crown of his dick forcefully, earning a cry from him. It's tempting to make fun of the way his hips keep jerking upwards, matching your strokes. However, that's working in your favor.

Beomgyu is using your hands as a fleshlight. You're not even moving your hands at this point, just watching him rut into your palms eagerly.

"Oh good boy," you purr. "You're gonna cum all over your pants aren't you?"

That drives him over the edge. Beomgyu completely abandons his game and uses his hands to move yours. He's guiding you to his liking, uncaring for how messy it's getting inside his sweatpants. Your hands are so sticky, so warm that he's moaning at every drag of your hands.

You feel his cock twitch a few times before he cries out, his sweatpants collecting a dark patch where his crotch is.

His hot cum slides down your hands, onto his boxers. His hands fall limp by his sides, letting you coax out his high. You give Beomgyu slow, tender strokes to his cock, careful to not overstimulate him.

Once his hips start stuttering you pull your hands away. You spread the cum over your chest, slipping some fingers into your mouth to get a taste of Beomgyu.

He moans at the sight, his hand reaching for your boob to further spread his arousal on you.

"Sucks you didn't beat my score. Least you got to cum." You say, sucking off the remaining orgasm from your digits.

Rather than seeing a pouty, upset Beomgyu, he smiles wickedly at you. "Nuh-uh. Look at the score."

Your heart drops when you see the final result. Yes he was close, but you didn't think he'd actually pass you. With a score of 342,019, Beomgyu beat you by three points.

Three fucking points.

He howls with laughter, finger pointing at you mockingly. It's even worse that you're totally topless and covered in Beomgyu's cum, but that doesn't stop him from taunting you in the slightest.

He wipes a fake tear from his eye and lets out a loud Ha-ha before settling down.

"Alright babe. Lay on the bed so I can fuck that stupid little cunt."

a/n: I hope I captured beomgyu's personality right??? I know he can be a little shit and that he's super competitive.

[bookyeom]

pairing: dino x reader word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, alcohol, kissing and the barest of suggestive content (it’s hardly there, but it’s insinuated) 

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

false alarm by matoma, becky hill

i heard sirens in my head  from the first time that we met thought it was a false alarm  yeah, we started as a spark didn’t think we’d come this far but here we are

now I’m burning in your arms  endless fire in my heart  no, it’s not a false alarm

A/N: Happy Birthday to our Makdoongie!!

*****

Everything is currently a bit of a blur, but a pleasant one. 

You’re sufficiently buzzed, the thumping of the bass vibrating through you as you wait in line at the bar. You sway contentedly to the beat as you manage to slide onto an empty barstool, waiting as the song changes to see what the new vibe is. You’ve just opened your mouth to order from the frenzied bartender when you register the first few beats of Bruno Mars’ Finesse, and you squeal. You stand up abruptly, nearly falling off the barstool as you do so, and whirl around to face the crowd.

You push yourself up onto your tippy toes, eyes scanning the room frantically. You’re on a mission now. Everyone and everything is a blur in the dim light of the club, fading into the background until you find exactly who you’re looking for. He’s already looking back at you, both hands in the air as he points in your direction. He’s too far, and the music is so loud that you can’t hear him, but you know he’s shouting your name. 

You push through the crowd towards him, one half-finished drink order and a confused bartender forgotten behind you, your own hands raised in the air as you whoop and holler. You’re practically vibrating with excitement as he weaves through the huddle to meet you halfway, and when you meet in the middle, you’re absolutely euphoric. 

You both immediately drop it down. 

You’re not a bad dancer, and Chan is far from it. You’re sure that the two of you are being stared at as you take over the floor, fake twerking and throwing your hands in the air. The movements are absolutely ridiculous but you’re hitting the beat, feeling the music — honestly, you’re absolutely killing it. All you can see, all you care about, is Lee Chan next to you with his head thrown back, laughing and having the time of his life. You can just barely hear his laugh over the pounding of the bass, but you know the sound of it by heart, anyway. You’re beaming, inhibitions thrown to the wind as you find your rhythm with him right there beside you. 

You never feel as happy as when you’re with him. 

This is something that you’ve come to acknowledge as truth. It’s also something you don’t allow yourself to dwell on — because the implications of what it means is terrifying.

The song has just reached Cardi’s rap part when you catch Chan mouthing something, and your eyebrows raise in question. He tries again, and you shake your head. I can’t hear you, you try and mouth back, gesturing, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ in understanding. Then he’s leaning down, lips by the shell of your ear. 

“This song is the best,” he yells, a hand finding your hip to keep you steady as you’re jostled by the ever-moving crowd, and you nod, turning your head to reply. 

“It’s our song!” You yell back, and he pulls away just enough to grin down at you, nodding furtively in agreement. His hand is warm where it’s still settled on your waist. 

You think time stills for a second when your eyes meet. His gaze is unwavering as he beams, and you can’t help but feel like the only other person in the room when he looks at you like this. 

Shit, he’s beautiful. 

It’s not the first time the thought has hit you without warning. You’d blame it on the alcohol if it wasn’t something you catch yourself thinking almost every single day now — that he’s beautiful, your friend Chan. That he’s beautiful and warm, and all things good, and that he’s one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

He still hasn’t let go of you when the song changes, but the moment between you ends so quickly that you wonder if it even happened at all. You hear the opening notes of J.Lo’s On The Floor and Chan cheers again, his hand slipping from your waist to find your fingers. He moves to twirl you and you oblige, letting him spin you out and back in. You belatedly realize what a poor decision you’ve made when you end up with your back flush against his chest, bodies pressed tight together. His arm is snug across your chest, holding you to him as he sings the lyrics into your ear, swaying you dramatically to the opening lines. You think it can’t get any worse — and then the beat drops. 

You are wholly unprepared for the way Chan begins to move against you. Both of his hands drop to settle on your waist as he begins to move his hips back and forth to the music, and your breath catches as your eyes flutter shut. 

Shit.

There’s a reason you never dance seriously with Chan, and it’s because you know the damage he can cause. You’ve seen him dance, seen him do it all from hip hop to contemporary, and you just knew that his body could move against yours in ways that would make you blush. 

You were right.  

Don’t panic. Don’t make it weird.

You’re grateful for the drinks you’ve downed because with the liquid courage, you somehow manage to swallow your nerves and allow your friend to guide your body along with his as he dances. Your head falls back against his shoulder and your fingers reach up, searching for his hair, his neck, anything that will help anchor you to him. He responds by pulling you even closer, his breath warm in the space between your neck and shoulder. You can feel him everywhere, can feel his body pressed against yours, can feel your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. But you don’t hesitate, don’t let yourself think, don’t question anything. You just let yourself feel it all.

Until he abruptly comes to a halt, the song not even halfway through, and brings you to a stop with him. 

It feels like you’re moving in slow motion as he turns you to face him. Gone is silly, giggly Chan, and in his place stands serious, pensive Chan, staring down at you like he’s trying to figure something out. He’s so close, your hand falling to rest on his chest as the two of you remain frozen in the middle of the dance floor. You have absolutely no idea what to think, or say, or do, as his eyes wander across your face in the haze of the flashing lights. You’re not sure how long it takes but he decides what to do for you both, taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You hold on for dear life, not daring to let him go. 

As soon as you step into the cool of the night air, Chan turns around, backing you up gently against the wall of the building. You’re sure you’ve been floating for the last ten minutes. You can’t see or hear or think about anything or anyone but him, and how gorgeous he looks in front of you, hair messy from dancing, cheeks flushed. His hands find your face, his forehead falling to rest against yours, and it’s all you can do to just breathe. He’s so close, and all you can think about is how you want him even closer. You swear you can hear his heartbeat — or is it yours? You’re not sure. You’re in a daze, because of the alcohol and because of him, and you’re desperate for him to do something. Anything.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “Do you want to—”

“Yes,” you cut him off almost immediately. He inhales a sharp breath at your hasty response, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments, and you wait. Then he’s taking your hand again, pulling you to the curb, and hailing a cab. 

You don’t let go of each other’s hand the entire way back to his apartment.

You’ve been in Chan’s apartment many times. This shouldn’t be new.

But it is, because his hand is in yours as he pulls you through the threshold, and then his hand is finding the middle of your back to pull you in, and then he’s backing you up against his front door.

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath this long. You feel fuzzy, untethered, a little bit insane as he looks at you. You don’t think he’s breathing, either. His free hand finds your face, and his thumb is brushing your jaw, and you wish you knew what was the right thing to do.

You know what you want to do, you just don’t know if you should.

“Y/N?” 

When he says your name, you let out a breath. “Yeah?”

His eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s struggling, too. “Do you… Um, do you want to shower?” 

You almost laugh, because that was not what you were expecting him to say, but you suppose he’s right. This was probably a terrible, awful, horrible, no-good bad idea. That doesn’t stop your heart from sinking, though.

You nod and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. You try to clear your thoughts, try to calm your racing heart as you follow him to the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything else, just hands you a clean towel from the cupboard with a soft smile. You thank him quietly, and the door is almost shut behind you when he says your name.

“Y/N?”

You turn, embarrassingly quickly. “Yeah?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for a moment. Then he tugs on the towel in your hands, pulling you closer and nearly causing you to stumble. His forefinger and thumb catch your chin, holding you steady as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

You don’t remember much of your shower after that. You’re in a daze, hot water streaming down your face, when you hear a soft knock and you jump a little.

“Yeah?”

Chan's voice sounds softly through the door. “I just put some clean clothes on the floor outside, okay?”

When you get out, you take your time drying off, trying desperately to wrap your head around what’s happening. You pull on the t-shirt and shorts he’d left you, taking a deep breath before heading out and into his room. You don’t miss the way Chan’s eyes widen as you enter the room, the way his eyes give you a onceover, or the way his fingers brush yours as he passes you on the way to get a shower of his own.

The air is tense when he re-enters. You’ve already crawled under his sheets — which, again, should be nothing new. What’s new is the way he hesitates, his eyes meeting yours as he towel dries his hair. 

“You can get in with me,” you say softly after a moment of quiet, and he nods. He seems to hesitate for a moment anyway, hand lifting to run through his damp hair. Then he’s climbing in next to you, and you can feel your heartbeat roaring in your ears as his warmth joins you under the covers. 

Are you allowed to touch him? Are you allowed to want to? 

You decide that there’s no going back now. He’d kissed you first — it’s your turn. 

You inhale a breath, and then you’re rolling onto your side to face him. He looks at you in surprise, and it gives you some sense of relief to find that he looks just as nervous as you feel. Before you can lose your nerve, you close the space between you, your head finding his bicep as you curl up into his side. You can feel it as he lets out a breath before he relaxes next to you, his arm sliding under your shoulders, and you goosebumps erupt across your skin. You move to wrap an arm around his waist. You can hear Chan let out a quiet laugh when you do, and you look up at him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows, almost as though you’ve challenged him to something, and then he’s pulling you in and turning his body into yours so that he can tangle your legs together.

Alright, you think as you roll your eyes at him fondly, you win this time, Lee Chan.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Your head is clearing itself of alcohol more and more as the moments pass, and everywhere he’s touching you has your head spinning for an entirely different reason now. His hand has found the space where his shirt has ridden up on your waist, just above your shorts, and he’s begun to trace gentle circles against your hip.

“Chan?”

You break the silence. He hums from his place beside you, fingers stilling.

“Yeah?” His voice is just above a whisper, hushed in this sacred space between you. Like he doesn’t want to break whatever bubble you’re currently trapped in. You don’t blame him. 

“I’m not imagining what’s happening here, right?” You finally say, and you can feel his body tense up. Your voice is quiet — you’re just as terrified as he is.

After a moment, Chan moves his arm from under you and props himself up on his elbow so he can look down at you. His other hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently as he responds. “No. You’re not.” 

You pause, biting down on your bottom lip, and Chan’s gaze follows the movement. Then you admit, as soft as ever, “I’m not really drunk anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

There it is. 

For a moment, all you can hear is the background hum of Chan’s air conditioner and the beating of your heart in your own ears.

“So…”

“I’m pretty sober now, and I know exactly what’s happening,” he says, trailing off before adding quietly, “and I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay with it, actually.”

Oh.

“Me too,” you murmur, and then he’s smiling, his gaze on you so soft and warm that you almost want to look away for fear of melting under the affection of it. You don’t.

“Long time coming,” he says, and if your heart wasn’t skipping beats yet, it is now. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Way too long.”

He smiles, head falling back to the pillow. It’s quiet for a moment as you just look at one another. 

“Please let me kiss you again,” he says after a pause, voice even softer than before, and you feel your entire body alight with electricity.

“Absolutely, yes.”

The wide smile you’re rewarded with is worth its weight in gold. The hand on your hip slips around to the middle of your back and he pulls you in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he finally, finally presses his mouth to yours. Once, twice, three times; he kisses you, deep and warm and slow, and you can feel it all the way down to your toes. 

You can’t help but chase his mouth as he pulls away, which feels embarrassing until you’re rewarded with the sound of a soft, breathy laugh full of pure joy from his lips. His nose brushes against yours, foreheads pressed together as you both catch your breath. 

“Why’d you stop?”

The laugh you receive this time is loud. It’s one of your favourite laughs; it’s the one that comes out when he can’t hold back just how happy he is. 

He doesn’t waste any more time. His lips meet yours, and you find yourself on your back again as he kisses you breathless. You find yourself taking mental notes and pictures of it all, just in case. You want to remember how he kisses just like you always imagined he would, soft and slow; how his hands are gentle in their wandering, just like you always knew they would be; how his mouth moves languidly against yours as his hand finds the side of your jaw. Tender, and as warm as the sun.

You don’t know what this means for the two of you, but you don’t think you ever want to forget how it feels.

When you break apart again, you can’t place exactly how you’re feeling. You feel shy, and nervous, and excited, and a million other things all at once. His eyes lazily wander across your face, thumb brushing your jaw.

Minutes pass. He doesn’t look away, so you don’t, either. 

You both know that there’s so much more that needs to be said, but you’re terrified to let anything ruin whatever is going on right now, so you don’t say any of it. Neither does he. Instead, you let yourself relish the feeling of his thumb against your cheek, let him look at you, let him lean down and kiss you one more time. His fingers are warm against your skin where they’ve slipped under your — his — shirt, and you hum against his mouth as he squeezes your waist gently.

“I think kissing is all I want right now,” you whisper, and he nods, brushing his nose against yours. 

“That’s okay,” he murmurs, leaning down to find your mouth once, twice more, before he’s rolling off of you. He turns away from you, and you panic for a moment, fingers reaching for him a little desperately, because space is not what you wanted. That’s not what you wanted at all.

“Please don’t go too far,” you say, and you would regret the desperation in your voice if you weren’t rewarded with the softest look from him in return.

“I’m just turning off the light so we can try and get some sleep,” he explains gently, fingers finding yours and squeezing. He doesn’t let go, even as he reaches for the lamp with his free hand, pulling you back and into his side as soon as the room goes dark.

You want to stay like this, to stay awake, to kiss him some more. But when there’s no more light and you’re wrapped in his warmth again, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut.

It’s you that wakes up first. 

You know where you are as soon as your eyes open. You’re in Chan’s room, which is nothing new. What is new this morning is the way he’s got his arm draped over your waist, and his face is right next to yours on the pillow. And also that you kissed last night. A lot.

You panic a little when it all comes back to you, but your overthinking is overpowered by your need to pee. You manage to get out from under him with minimal damage. You try not to freak out as you wash your face, your brain reeling with what all of this might mean. You don’t regret it, of course you don’t, but does he?

You fight against everything in you that wants to run, to leave his apartment and pretend nothing happened. Because it’s Chan, and he’s a good friend, and you owe him that much, even if you’re a coward.

You’re grateful that you don’t have to wait for him long, because the longer you sit there, the more you want to throw up. You hear when he stirs in the other room, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment in order to steady yourself. You wait with bated breath on one of the stools in his kitchen like a robot, rigid and tense, until you finally hear him enter. 

“Hey,” he says softly, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice just as quiet, and you meet his eyes. He smiles tentatively, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful like this, you think, when it’s early in the morning and he’s on his way over to you, eyes a soft brown in the sunlight that streams through the kitchen window.

”Did you sleep okay?” 

You think he knows you were staring when he speaks and it takes you a second to react. You blush, abruptly turning your head away from him. 

“Yeah, I slept well.” 

“Hey,” he says, and you can practically hear him trying not to smile. “You can’t hide from me after you kissed me like that last night.”

“Chan!” You’re absolutely scandalized as he uses the bottom of the stool to turn you back towards him. Your hands lift to cover your face, and he laughs. You wince as his laughs subside, but you don’t fight him as he gently pulls your hands away.

“Hi,” he says again, and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for teasing you.” The smile fades from his mouth as his expression turns serious. “We should talk about it.”

You nod, even though you’re so nervous you don’t know if you can talk at all. 

“Do you…” He trails off as he lets go of your hands. He leans against the counter next to you, and you wait for him to continue. “I mean, would you want to do that again?” You furrow your brows, and his eyes widen. He’s quick to speak again, stumbling over his words. “God, I meant… Did you enjoy it? Kissing me and everything? Do you, um, do you want to do this?” 

His eyes squeeze shut as he finishes his sentence, and you can’t believe how flushed he’s gotten. 

“Do you?” Is all you can manage.

Chan’s eyes open again, and he blurts out, “I asked you first.” 

That’s fair.

“Well,” you say softly, “my head’s definitely a lot clearer now.” You watch as Chan deflates a little.

“Oh.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you clock the look of disappointment on his face. “Wait, no! I meant that — what I wanted to say is that even though I’m sober now, I still want to kiss you. Of course I wanted to kiss you last night, too. I wasn’t that drunk —” It’s your turn to flush crimson red now, and you force yourself to take a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that of course I want this, Chan. I have wanted to be with you for so long, and I —“

Your surprised gasp is muffled as he pulls you into him, squeezing you so tight around the waist that you think he might break you. He buries his face in your neck and murmurs, “You should have said that first, oh my god. I have liked you for so long it’s embarrassing, so you need to stop talking before I literally explode.”

It takes a second for everything to process. Then he’s pulled back to look at you again, your legs moving to let him stand between them, and he presses his forehead to yours. Your hand lifts to his face, and you’re flooded with affection when he leans into the warmth of it.

“So,” he says softly.

“So,” you repeat.

He gazes at you, warm, and you bite your lip.

“Us?” You finally ask, and Chan nods with a smile.

“Us.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fourth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Channie’s birthday. I know I just posted the Woozi fic yesterday, but it’s Chan’s birthday. What can I do?

Also, this fic in particular is very important to me, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[brucewaynehater101]

i absolutely love your jane doe au and i was just wondering where steph, cass, and babs are in this

Hi!! Here's a link to more posts

Tw: SA, underage prostitution

Imma just go over their backgrounds with Tim for this AU. As far as where they're at before or during any reveals? No clue.

In the og post, Cass is mentioned to be the "good sibling" to Jane and the one who managed to escape Gotham (but still visits on occassion) [in the perspective of the other sex workers]

If you're wondering: "How did Tim manage to hide Jane Doe from Cass?" He's been doing it since before she arrived. There was nothing new in his body language for her to pick up on. It's an established part of him. She might pick up on him having trauma-based responses to sex (particularly after she saves him from SA), but pretty much the entire batfam has some history of sexual harassment [if not assault]. They've also witnessed fucked up shit that's bound to give them second hand trauma. The Bats are also notorious for hiding shit from each other with Tim being known for his ability to lie or redirect.

So, yes. Cass loves and pays attention to Tim. She may or may not know *something* is up with how he gets his info, but also no one else questions Tim. As long as he can prove it, they don't question it. Why should she just decide to up-end a set family habit?

For Steph.... This is an intriguing and tricky one. She and Tim dated at one point and presumably had sex. This could indicate that she is clued into him having some trauma/peculiar reactions to sex. On the complete other hand, there's a few factors working against them.

One: They were young and inexperienced when they dated. Neither had significant examples in their life of what a healthy relationship/partner should look like. They kind of were just trying to fumbling around with their efforts and youth to fit their relationship into what they thought it should be. If Tim and Steph had started dating after he becomes RR, Steph would have had more perspective and understanding on Tim's behaviors/habits (and, after she finds out [besides the pain and heartbreak and grief she feels for Tim], a lot more of their past relationship started to make sense)

Two: Steph and Tim come from different socioeconomic statuses. A lot of his weird insistences, ideals, behaviors, etc. could be waved away as a weird rich people shit (Examples: He keeps buying her gifts after every time they have sex, him keeping an arm around her shoulder or wanting her to hold his arm when they are in public, trying to take her to fancy places for dinner and buying her outfits beforehand, offering an allowance, apologies with sexual favors, etc).

Anyways, Tim might draw from his Jane Doe encounters on what "dating" should look like. So... Maybe Steph (because she's smart and also a detective too y'all) thinks that Tim has some sexual trauma from some weird rich people shit.

Now Babs!!!! I've been thinking about this one. At first, I didn't quite grasp how Oracle wouldn't have known about Jane Doe (not that Tim is them, just that a sex worker is obtaining/hoarding information and performing some type of vigilante work). Jane ends up getting a bit of a reputation, so there's no way they slip under her radar.

And that's the point. Of course she knows about Jane. Jane would have to be an informant of Oracle. They don't work *for* Barbara, but with her. They are a third-party contact that occasionally chats up Birds of Prey or Oracle herself. It allows Oracle and ear in the streets and provides Tim and avenue to pass on information Robin can't reasonably obtain/explain.

Barbara knows that Jane is young, but she doesn't quite know how young. When they first start working together, she assumes (and hopes) they are at least eighteen. She offers them resources and a life out of sex work, but Jane doesn't take it. Barbara also has Black Canary and Catwoman train Jane to at least protect themself [Tim: "Free training?? In heels???? Fuck yeah."]

By the time Tim becomes RR, they're practically friends. Not as close as Barbara and Tim (natually), but still a decent relationship.

[And of course this means that Barbara frantically pours over all her files on Jane's past cases and client when she finds out. She vomits and screams until her throat is hoarse when she realizes how young Tim was, that Tim thought this was a *necessary* cost of the cape, and that Barbara unintentionally encouraged and benefited from it]