#i mean like yeah its been on air for over a decade it makes sense that the quality goes down and more of the rough edges show through

[lunariumarcs]

Hmm seems like season 17 is shaping up to be a very accurate microcosm of all of MM's writing problems over the years

[warmcookiepuff]

RESTART ( badly timed reunions suck ass when you leave your best friend behind)

— gn!reader, jason, wingman roy, mentions of dick

tw: curse words (many), jason dealing with his mental health and hyper independence (i hc he never properly deals with it)

p.s: raw writing skills after a year of retirement (it sucks).

p.s 2.0: Yes i rewrote this

---- ⭐ ----

"You've got a type," Roy jokes, lightly shoving his friend as he swivles his cup of juice. His eyes turning to the newbie vigilante across the room, stressing over the cups knocked over on the table.

"Yeah? What's that?" Jason rolls his eyes, adjusting himself on the wall. His eyes never leave your back.

"Scary," Roy hums, taking a sip of his juice as he watches you stack the cups again annoyingly.

It's been a while, you know. Probably a decade. Last you checked, he upped and died after getting adopted from the Alley you both grew up in. His shirt used to be as dirty as yours. Your smarts still match his, even more actually. Both were practically inseparable before--

Well.

"I don't know why you guys don't just talk," Roy muses. "It's not like you don't know each other."

"We don't," Jason answers harshly, his eyes looking away from you to his friend. "I'm not the kid that played mechanic anymore. Besides, I've got blood on my hands."

Its quiet. The house is still buzzing with friends and family. Wayne's mansion was grand as always. Jason always looks out of place in a space like this. Especially in celebrations, he typically never shows up. Not even for his own birthday. Much less Dick's.

Where he currently is.

The real question is: "Why is he here?"

Dick knows Jason won't come to the party. Everyone does. In typical Jaybird fashion, he'd send a text a few days late wishing his family a 'happy birthday' (if they're lucky).

He's a self-sufficient guy. The hyper independent, gruff, bad boy vigilante with a few screws loose. He does fine on his own.

So Dick brings in his screws; you. Jason fell for it like a sheep.

"How did Dick even--" Jason starts, feeling frustrated over the situation. Roy cuts him off.

"I told him."

"Honest to God I could kill you right now, Roy."

"In my defense, it sounded good at the time."

"I almost chopped their head off? What the fuck do you mean it sounded good?!"

"They threw like 15 bombs at you. Something tells me they don't just die easy."

"Christ, you're insufferable," Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. Needing silence above all else at the moment for the migraine that was shooting up his psyche. "i need some fresh air. DON'T follow me. I'll shoot your ass."

Jason leaves before Roy could say a word.

The balcony doors push open. Cold air pricks his cheeks and he takes a deep, deep breath of the polluted Gotham air. He rests his elbows on the railings, overseeing the city raining with crime.

Home.

There's a beat of silence. Before he sighs heavily, holding his head in his hands.

"Why am I like this," He asks himself in a low, tired voice. One he uses when he's sure he's alone. "Fuck's wrong with me. Can't be normal for five fucking seconds."

"Honestly, it was like 46 minutes but who's counting?"

Jason arms himself with his gun as swift as possible, his eyebrows furrow angrily as he makes sense of the silhouette standing by the balcony door behind him.

"Better than beheading, I'd say," You roll your eyes, walking up to him unfazed.

"You-- I-- Give me like 5 seconds," He locks in, immediately stuffing his gun in his holster. Fuck, since when did he stutter.

"Time's up," You answer smoothly, leaning on the railing with your body turned to his own rigid stance. "Speak, big boy."

"How'd you know I was out here?"

"You're a big guy," You answer, shrugging. "Also, Roy."

"Fucking ginger," He sighs, massaging his temples. "Don't do this to me."

"Do what?"

"Pretend we're talking. Like we're friends again."

"I'm not doing anything you don't want me doing," You put your hands up in surrender. "Talk when you want."

It felt like hours had passed by in the quiet that the cold had started to nick at your skin. Cars had passed, small amounts of people had left. For once, Jason didn't want to disappoint someone more than he already has -- he's stuck in his own head. He had to say something.

Anything.

Anything that isn't so fucking stupid.

"I... I missed... you," He says through gritted teeth, his eyes never meeting yours -- his heart pounding and nervous.

He should've died in the Pit.

The second of silence you left had him consider every escape option possible.

You snort loudly and burst out laughing. It catches him off guard. It was noisy, loud -- full of life. You grip the railing as you hold your stomach.

"I--," You heave, snickering through your words. "I-- I missed you too."

[navree]

this is dc twitter discourse at the moment so i thought i'd ask your thoughts on it do you think red hood jason hurting children is ooc/a bad writing choice???

And this ladies and gents is why I avoid DC Twitter because I don't think I've seen any good takes there ever, no matter where you are. Sometimes people post panel compilations that hurt my heart, that's the like the only good thing to come out of it, I don't even click on the MAWS hashtag if it trends while the show is airing because last time I did it was people bitching that 25 year old Slade did not look or act the same way that current in his forties Slade does (not to mention, how can you complain about MAWS Slade? he's the best part about the show how did anyone not just fall over laughing with delight the second he showed up and proclaimed himself to be literal Slade Wilson?).

With that said, yeah I would consider that to be a bad writing choice. Talking about characterization for comics is hard because, as I've mentioned, comics is an incredibly decentralized creative medium in a way none others are. Movies, TV shows, novels, they all tend to have a main core group of people or even just one solitary person in charge of the creative direction, and for a lot of them, a very finite "this is where we start and this is where we end" mentality that comics do not. These characters have had constantly changing creative heads, with new directions and ideas for characterization attached, since their inception, and they've all been around for a very long time. This is why comics are kind of the only medium where you can, in fact, really pick and choose your canon, because the canon has changed so much depending on who is in charge at a giant company. Like, canonical eighties Batman characterization would be considered super OOC for someone writing canonical modern Batman, and vice versa. So talking about characterization is hard, especially with Jason when nobody has had any idea what to fucking do with him for decades at this point. But, when it comes to Red Hood Jason, there is something I consider gospel canon, which is the Under the Red Hood arc, since that is what nearly all subsequent canon imaginings of Jason take from. That is our gold standard here. And based on UTRH, yeah, Jason harming children is out of character and it is bad writing.

When Jason comes back, he has two very clear goals. Goal one: the Joker's gotta die, preferably Batman kills him so Jason gets concrete proof that he was loved and mourned (Jason is not mentally healthy so his thought process doesn't make sense just roll with it), but Jason is fine killing the man himself, so long as he dies. Goal two: essentially fulfill Batman's mission in a way where it actually accomplishes his goals. Jason outlines this pretty specifically in Batman #641, he tells Bruce "You. I'll be you. The you you're supposed to be." Jason's goal as the Red Hood is to make Gotham better (in his head), safer, and cleaner, but unlike Batman he is willing to take that goal as far as he can and will kill if necessary. What he wants is to just take Batman's mission to its logical extreme. Eradicate the various elements that have caused suffering in Gotham throughout the years, just with more permanence than Batman does, and less of a focus on rehabilitation, because you can't rehabilitate a dead person. And as part of this, Jason does not act unnecessarily. When he kills, it is people who (arguably) deserve it, and it is never innocents. It is always the criminal element, and people he believes are past the point of no return, as well as those who might be trying to stop him in that. His mission statement is literally "Death will come to those who deserve death, and death may come to those who stand in my way of doing what's right." and he means that. This is not a character you've created to then go out and harm children, because kids have not done anything to deserve it, and they are not the cause of the issues that he is trying to eliminate.

There's also the fact that Jason, even in his early Red Hood days where editorial just decided that he's a straight villain now, was never someone who went after kids, but in fact actively tried to help them. He makes it a point to tell his people that they do not sell drugs to kids and that if they do, he'll kill them (along with telling them not to get previously clean people hooked and only sell to repeats, which also paints him as someone who isn't just hurting others willy-nilly). The first person Jason ever kills, as seen in Red Hood: Lost Days, is a man who was involved in child trafficking, and he does it specifically because he wants to save those kids and future victims from him, and considers him scum of the Earth as a result (I think his name was Egan? Egon? idfk I don't reread Lost Days because I find their whole "look at fully adult Talia fucking the mentally ill sixteen year old under her care who is reliant on her for everything, how sexy" shtick abhorrent, and using Talia as their child rapist doubly so). So Jason, even at his most villainous, at his most "this is a bad dude" characterized, is someone who deliberately avoids harming innocents because it's not compatible with his mission or his personal code, and includes children very specifically in that.

It is also out of character and a bad writing choice because of Jason's own childhood. You might think a rebuttal to this is "Jason wants to kill/hurt criminals, what if kids are criminals" well guess what Jason was a kid criminal! It is actually illegal to steal parts off of people's cars, even if that person can afford it because he's Batman (to say nothing of the multiple very heavy handed hints dropped that Jason solicited as a prostitute during his time being homeless, which is also a crime, it is illegal and he would have been picked up by the cops for it if found out). Unless you want to argue that Jason thinks he himself should have been taken out with a Glock at the big of age of eleven for doing illegal things in the name of survival, you can't say that Jason's philosophy would allow him to harm children and remain in character or decently written, you just can't. Like, your other gospel for Jason's characterization should be his original Robin run from the 80s, since that's literally what introduced him to this world in the first fucking place, so duh. And there's nothing in that characterization to suggest that he would harm anyone unnecessarily, especially kids. Like, Robin Jason spares Two-Face's life, after having found out days ago that Two-Face murdered Willis Todd in cold blood; he tries to save Sheila Haywood's life after she straight up helps murder him; this isn't someone whose characterization allows for him to hurt children later in life. Especially once you factor in his struggles as a child, and how that most likely just breeds empathy for other children, especially children who are having a hard time.

Now, I can guess that some of this comes up in discussions of one of my most loathed subjects, the stupid bad stupid dumb stupid attack on fucking Titan's Tower. Now, even beyond the fact that the stupid attack on stupid Titan's Tower is less about Jason wanting to beat up children and more his specific issues with Bruce and the concept of Robin that can't be transplanted to other people, the attack itself is bad writing. It is out of character for Jason. It does not jive at all with his stated characterization and motivations that he himself outlined (also the only other closest thing to that is his fight with Mia Dearden, where he's pretty tame in just warning her to leave vigilantism and straight up beats her twice before letting her go relatively unscathed of his own free will, just saying) and it makes no sense. His issues are that the Joker is alive and Batman didn't do anything about it. Why the fuck would he care about Tim? Tim means nothing to him, he never even met the little dude, he doesn't have an issue with him. He doesn't even have an issue with the idea of Robin being passed down because Jason literally said he was perfectly content to not be Robin and just be Jason, and his problems don't arise from Robin! The issues at the heart of Jason's conflict with Bruce hinge on the Bruce and Jason relationship of father and son, not Batman and Robin! And not fucking Tim! Tim means nothing, he is a nonentity. The only reason this fuckass plot exists is because DC didn't know what to do with Jason and threw shit at the wall to see what would stick, similar to what we saw with that dumb plot with Nightwing from this time that also has similar issues, in that why would Jason care enough to cause problems for Dick, he doesn't have an issue with Dick, he legit interacts with Dick in UTRH and he's fine! (a better writing decision would have been post-UTRH Jason immediately writing the entire Batfam off and treating them as hostiles whenever they wander into Crime Alley and them having to regain his trust back/him agreeing to let down more and more barriers as time goes on and they all reconnect, but I was like seven when all this was being written so DC didn't seek my input) The fucking dumb Titan's Tower thing that people are gonna use to prove that Jason hurting kids isn't bad writing isn't even about Jason, the only reason this shit gets trotted out again and again is because Tim Drake has a lot of fans who are absolutely convinced their poor uwu baby has suffered more than Jesus when the only person in the Batfam who's suffered less than him is, like, Alfred (although I can make the argument that Alfred has still suffered more by having had to put up with Bruce Wayne almost singlehandedly for most of his adult life). It exists in people's minds even tho it is objectively bad writing and out of character for one of the main players because fanon Tim has to be the most special boy ever (and also because these people wanna use it to make Tim interesting which is impossible because nothing can make Tim interesting).

Jason hurting children deliberately is, indeed, bad writing. It is, in fact, incredibly out of character. It does not compute to his explicit motivations and how he was characterized in the stories that have since been used as a jumping off point for his characterization ever since. And ultimately, the thing is this: if Red Hood Jason is just trying to do Batman's job better than Batman, who is he doing it for if not children? Who is he trying to clean up Gotham for, make Gotham a better place for, if not her children? And if that's the case, as it obviously is, why on Earth would him then harming her children be any kind of good character writing or coherent characterization?

TL;DR, yes it is.

[wandering-tides]

most of the movies iirc aren't canon so kaishin being cousins MIGHT not be true. but if it is honestly i think most people will straight up ignore it (i mean, its been 3 decades... some of the people who have been shipping this for close to a decade are in their final years of high school or a freshman/sophomore in college.) though i do feel like a hypocrite being a little worried if new fanworks for them will take a nose dive, since i personally am not comfortable with any form of inc*st. 😮‍💨

You are right, movies in det con aren't canon, and they aren't regarded as such until something in the movie is shown in the manga too later on. So yea, not all movies are canon. But i've seen people say that this particular info of the kudo's and kuroba's will show up in the manga too. Not sure about that tho, guess it will be confirmed only when it actually shows up in the manga, however long that takes...

I think its kinda hard to say anything too soon about what will happen to the kaishin fandom. Will many people leave? Or will people simply ignore and stay, what will be the majority choice?

There could be a chain reaction, like, if people start leaving, most would follow the majority not really thinking things through, or the other way around.

The choice, the kaishin fandom would take regarding this is still very much hanging in the air cuz a lot of people are trying to stay away from the movie spoilers, so no one can really say for sure about how this is going to end.

But I do understand where you are coming from when you say ince*t, cuz I hate it too.

But, I have been a kaishin shipper for over 10 yrs at this point and it's kinda hard to suddenly stop shipping them after shipping them for so long... this is probably the first time I somehow ended up shipping an incest ship, even if we did not know it would really turn out so...

So I am totally going to ignore canon, I don't always do so, but this is a special case I suppose. They are supposed to be cousins? Nope, it's just a wild rumor a refuse to believe.

People keep making fanworks for them? Go for it. If this was Gosho's way to turn the kaishin fandom into shambles, to highlight his canon couple, we gotta show him we won't turn into what he wants us to. (because what other reason could there be for revealing this after almost 3 decades?)

(Plus it's common in Asia, especially around south Asia where cousins marry each other so there's that too, cousin marriages don't raise eyebrows over there)

But yeah, I do have conflicting feeling about this... because, cousins.

So in that sense, I suppose, people who decide to stay in the kaishin fandom and ignore canon (like me), and don't really like incest could be considered hypocrites. But oh well, Gosho can fuck off. (Also, these are fictional characters so.)

Let's see what happens to kaishin shippers.

[thesinglesjukebox]

'WEIRD AL' YANKOVIC - "POLKAMANIA!"

"Weird Al"'s first Jukebox appearance... today, we have finally truly become the Singles Jokebox.

[4.38]

TA Inskeep: Oh look, vaguely recent pop hits set to polkas. <Miranda Priestly voice> Groundbreaking. </Miranda Priestly voice> [2]

Kat Stevens: There are a certain subset of songs which I've only ever encountered in "Weird Al" polka medley form: I have no idea what the original "Cradle of Love" sounds like, nor have I any real interest in finding out. So it spoils the fun a little when it turns out I know all the tunes already. [4]

Julian Axelrod: "Weird Al" Yankovic was one of my first favorite artists, which means I was exposed to some of the biggest pop hits in history via parodies and polka medleys. So while "Polkamania!" might disgust and confound the average listener, I find it charming that he's still committing to this incredibly specific bit forty years into his career. It's been a decade since "NOW That's What I Call Polka!", which means Al has a wide array of hits to cover, from the obvious ("Shake It Off") to the inspired ("Vampire") to the baffling. (My biggest laugh came not from his polkafied version of "WAP," but the censored rendition of "Thank U, Next" that immediately follows.) It's hard to judge this through a contemporary critical lens when it exists mainly as a funhouse inversion of pop's immediate past. Listening to a "Weird Al" polka medley in the year 2024 feels like returning to your hometown and finding out your favorite old haunt is still standing and still run by the same curly-haired weirdo, untouched by the evolution of taste and the passage of time. [7]

Katherine St. Asaph: A foil to Eminem: Em is crass where Al is gosh-darn unoffensive, dying to offend where Al is dying to please, but the two artists share a drive to present themselves as more chaotic than they actually are. (I interviewed "Weird Al" once, and he was so unwaveringly on-message that it felt like interviewing a career politician.) Their pop-culture medleys are as routine and unsurprising as holiday concerts, though Al's are more event managed: doing the press circuit, he was happy to break down all the logistics of the "Polkamania" assembly and approval process. In doing so, he critiqued the song better than I ever could: SZA ghosted him, but Lin-Manuel Miranda returned his call in like 30 seconds. [4]

Tim de Reuse: I'm sorry, Al. This kind of thing was your bread and butter, but we've pulled the rug out from under you. The genre-cloud of "recognizable song awkwardly re-rendered in different style" is the basis for a million clickbait YouTube thumbnails, ten percent of all videos on TikTok, and probably a quarter of all audio-based generative AI prompts. I've already heard all of these songs as Gregorian chant, as Norwegian black metal, Midwest emo, using the soundfonts from Super Mario 64, performed by a bad Kate Bush impersonator, in fucking "Negative Harmony" -- never of my own volition. This stuff is just in the air now, competing for my attention, and it all sounds the same as every cell phone ad. Wat's left here? Polka? Is polka still funny on its own merits? Was it ever? It's not you, Al. It's us. I'm sorry for what we did. [1]

Joshua Lu: "NOW That's What I Call Polka!" was a guilty pleasure of mine, operating as a genuinely catchy and humorous summation of then-recent hits made by a man with a palatable appreciation for pop music and a knack for taking on unserious tasks with the utmost seriousness. "Polkamania!" is mostly the same, and in being his first mashup since then (aside from some Hamilton thing I can't bring myself to listen to), he's had to distill over a decade of hits down instead of just a few years' worth. All of these songs included make sense, but every other song just instills a sense of "Oh yeah, that was a thing once," culminating in a Taylor Swift remake that surely would've amused me in 2013 but now just feels a dozen lifetimes old. It doesn't help that some of these songs are just kind of boring and don't offer much by way of humor, forcing pretty straightforward polkafications and awkward transitions.  [5]

Ian Mathers: Look, none of these will ever equal "Polka Your Eyes Out" to me, both because of the song selection there and because I was 10 when it came out. But I'm happy Al's out there doing his thing, and I hope he never changes. [6]

Mark Sinker: OK, back in April some clown called on him to become our beloved worm-man god-emperor, and now look what happened: “Brat Al” Yankovic! There’s a whole slab of cultural and music theory to be explored one day, about what happens when you convert modern pop into sheet music and then convert it back out again into your favoured local sound-style: what gets elided, but also what’s gained (not nothing)! And maybe some day someone will write it up — but that day is not today and that someone is not me.  [5]

Hannah Jocelyn: The polka medleys were never my favorites; it's almost always the same shtick and there's none of the cleverness of his usual material or his (underappreciated!) style parodies. There's inspiration here to be sure, "Weird Al" doing "Bad Guy" as klezmer gets this a positive score on those grounds alone. Maybe if he released this five years ago or in five years it would work and not fall victim to the Anxious Interval. But this is "Weird Al", long-reigning king of kitsch. Who wants him to be in touch? [6]

Nortey Dowuona: Both 10 years out of date and 10 years into the future. Welcome back, polka. (And "Weird Al," too.) [10]

Taylor Alatorre: I appreciate that there's a person out there who can get me to say with a straight face a sentence like "I miss when the polkas were more thematically consistent." [5]

Jonathan Bradley: "Weird Al" sucks. I feel so mean to say that: people love this guy who, let’s face it, is completely harmless and has been delighting (mostly) children for decades, and here I am telling you how appalled I feel that we celebrate such a pristinely executed vision of pure crappiness. And yet, here we are blurbing him, so: I hate the querulous insipidity of Al’s interpretation of pop music. His schtick demands familiarity with pop — otherwise the parodies make no sense — but shies away from the music’s flair and vision and emotion, as if the pleasure these things offer is too terrifying and too adult, and must be remediated through the lens of banality so as to be controlled. His jokes rarely riff on details of the texts themselves, the way a Lonely Island video might, but replace any intensity of feeling with artefacts of suburban triviality: crappy television, crappy minor medical ailments, and so much crappy, crappy food. Even the verisimilitude of his productions — his greatest actual talent — runs headlong into the crappiness of his adenoidal voice, reassuring us that he’s not so proficient at his craft as to be mistaken for a star. And then there’s his sideshow of playing covers with an accordion, which we understand to be a joke instrument, in the style of polka, which we understand to be a joke genre. Is his polka any good? None of his listeners care. Do they go on to explore more polka? Why would they? Do people who enjoy polka think Al is contributing anything to the music they love? Who cares; the incredible notion that someone somewhere might enjoy polka is part of the joke. Because the most desiccated and shriveled aspect of Al’s relationship with pop is that he can’t imagine it has its own jokes. Cardi B is funnier in “WAP” than he is here. Lil Nas X was a better troll on “Old Town Road.” Billie Eilish had better comic timing with her interjected “duh” on “Bad Guy.” And I understand how churlish I sound saying all this. I am Seymour Skinner; I am Ed Rooney. But I like jokes! (I’m not mad. Please don’t put in the newspaper that I got mad.) The problem is that there is nothing fun happening here! [0]

Alfred Soto: I'm happy Al exists. This song sucks. [2]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[burning-fcols]

hcppyhotel: 

it was a quiet drive through to the lust ring. after all the rush of emotions died down, it just felt... awkward. there was a lot the assassin wanted to tell the jester, but what could would it do ? they both had moved on and there still a lot that lingered to really try and move forward. but blitz found that talking things through really did mean something. and it felt... great, he would admit. after a pause that went on for so long, the horned imp spoke, ❝ despite it all, you know... at least you got some cool ass appendages, ❞ he says with a slight smile. there's an small laugh that leaves him, ❝  i mean, really, you... you look great, fizz. ya know, when you're not fire.  ❞ / @burning-fcols

「 ☆ 」 Now that he's GENUINELY safe— so long as no other earth-shattering plot twists happen; Fizz has experienced enough of them to last a lifetime —Fizz finally has a moment to breathe and contemplate today's events. Air that had felt cleared only a moment ago is now suffocating, heavy in the jester's lungs. Crushing anything he might want to say. Enveloped in an uncertain fog, answers to questions he hadn't even been asking only make the ones that HAD been plaguing him ring louder.

Blitzo— Blitz hadn't intended to hurt him. What should be nothing but a relief sits strangely in Fizzarolli's stomach as he stares out the car window. Not truly seeing the changing scenery, mind races with far clearer images. Blitz's face, contorted in what he could SWEAR was jealousy. Disgust. Twisted into hatred by the passing years; but even without that exaggeration, Fizz knows there had been something. Festering through their youth, tainting their relationship until it finally came to fruition on his birthday. Blitz might not have wanted him dead, but it still FELT like it.

And Fizz hadn't pulled that feeling out of thin air.

But how does one ask about past pains when wounds are finally given the chance to scab over? After over a decade of bleeding— however much Fizz hid it —he's desperate to heal. Rushed as it feels, now that adrenaline has made room for exhaustion... Incomplete, it may be. Brows knit, nose scrunching as Fizz reluctantly admits to himself that as long as he doesn't KNOW, he can't fully move on.

❝ Huh? ❞ Jolted from his stupid self-reflection— why can't he just disillusion himself into believing he's better? —head snaps in Blitz's direction, wide eyes flitting down to his robotic limbs. An awkward but grateful smile hints his features, conversation ironically distracting him from the one he can't bring himself to have, ❝ O-Oh, heh— Yeah. They are pretty great~ Soooooo much more useful than the boring-old ones I used to have. ❞ Meeting Blitz's joking approach, Fizz lightly runs his fingers over his sparking limb. Touch more genuine than his tone, he notes the slight pressure, Ozzie doing his best to ensure Fizz could experience even the smallest of change.

His robotic limbs can't feel in the same way his old ones did... Hot, cold, pleasure, pain— Those mean nothing in the traditional sense. PRESSURE, touch in its rawest form, has become so important to the jester. Helping him interact with the world, grabbing and navigating with even more ease than before. Offering intimacy that's new but no-less sincere, with each touch of his partner. Each time Ozzie presses his lips to a limb and Fizz FEELS it with a clarity unmatched. He might have no skin there to warm, no sensations other than Ozzie's presence... but it's enough.

Something he reminds himself of every day.

❝ But let's not forget about you, Mr. Fancy-Ass Suit. ❞ Fizz quips, openly studying the others attired with a playful raise of his brow, ❝ You're looking pretty SNAZZY. Did any hot plans get interrupted, or is this just how you dress now? Because not gonna lie, it's a bit much... ❞ Snickering at his jest, Fizz knows damn-well he's the last person to have any say in what's considered ❛ too much ❜. 「 ☆ 」

[the-only-ace]

Can you do a TaeminxReader where both the reader and Taemin are on The Knowing brothers and Heechul continuously flirts with the reader.

hello there~ i honestly don’t know if you still remember requesting this but here you go! i am so sorry for answering after such a long loooong hiatus. also, i am not really familiar with all the segments for the knowing brothers so i apologize in advance if some of them do not make sense. hope you still enjoy it nevertheless!

taemin scenario: just add jealousy

pairing: taemin x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: taemin and reader have been liking each other for quite a while now and promoting as a duo together makes their relationship even more complicated. maybe a sprinkle of jealousy would finally ignite the sparks between them.

warnings: none

send in your requests here!

taemin plopped down on a seat and loosened the black necktie he was wearing for the knowing brothers recording. he reached over the table to grab a new bottle of water and contently chugged down its contents. the shoot just wrapped up and the cold drink was refreshing especially after participating in a lot of the activities today. he already spent more than a decade doing variety shows but this one made him extra tired. maybe it comes with age? who was he kidding, twenty-seven is not yet considered as old. he can perform and dance for hours and gladly do it again the next day. comparing to that, a tv show guesting should be a piece of cake but why does he feel more than relief to wrap it up earlier than expected.

with a long heavy sigh, taemin tilted his head backward and close his eyes. he knows exactly the reason why he feels exhausted and also annoyed. it was because of his certain senior called kim heechul. 

a frown quickly formed across his forehead as the events a while ago replayed on his mind.

exhibit a:

“with your great chemistry on stage, fans keep on speculating if something is going on between you two. is there something we should know?” heechul asked as the cast talks about your debut single.

honestly, you were not that surprised with the question since it was quite a buzz across social media already. the other members of your girl group practically shoved their phones to your face whenever they saw comments regarding your performance. of course, their loud teasing comes next as if they were a package deal of some sort–which you don’t remember purchasing at all.

“no, we’re both just good friends.” you answered confidently with a chuckle. “i think my chemistry with taemin only comes from how much effort and passion we have put in our every performance. seeing such reactions from our audience makes both of us happy since it means that we did something great up there on stage.”

taemin was nodding silently beside you like a cute little puppy dog as he listened to your answer. he was quite proud of how well you handled the question on your own.

“so does that mean you’re still single?” the super junior member continued to ask.

“um… yeah, pretty much.” you laughed as you nod.

“then i can ask you out?” well, that one caught you off guard.

“hey, isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” taemin can’t help but interrupt your conversation.

“why is that?” the older guy snapped back and sounded a bit offended.

“because…” okay, taemin did not really think this through but thanks to his variety show experience, he was able to blurt out an entertaining response. “aren’t you a bit too old for her? wouldn’t that put you to… i don’t know, jail?” the comment earned laughs and more insults from the other members.

“look here, mister! she’s of legal age so what do you mean jail?” heechul stood up from his seat and started to point his index finger towards his junior.  "also, don’t you guys think it’s up to y/n to decide?“ he directed his look to you and raised an eyebrow. “so, what do think?” he tried to pull off a flirty look.

“well, they do say age doesn’t matter in love.” you shrugged as you went with the flow.

taemin knew that you’re also good on variety shows especially on how open you are to any situations that were thrown in your way. you always have the best responses and reactions. that is why people from the industry love to invite you over to shoot an episode with them. however, he kind of hoped that you have let go of the idea of flirting back.

exhibit b:

heechul pulled out the empty chair beside him and patted it, indicating for you to sit beside him. you removed the black backpack you were wearing and placed it on top of the desk as you gladly sat down next to him.

“so where should i take you for our first date?” his sudden proposal caused you to scoff and let out an amused laugh.

“well… i do love eating expensive steak in a fancy restaurant where i can wear a beautiful dress that you bought while thinking of me.” you teased with a sweet smile.

“isn’t that too much for a high school student?” he mumbled to himself before reaching out to brush the stray hair on your forehead. “okay, oppa will do it for you.”

you placed both of your hands underneath your cheeks and looked at him cutely. “thank you, oppa!”

“oppa? more like samchon if you ask me.” taemin looked back from his seat in front of you two.

“alright, what the hell is your problem today? did i do something wrong?” heechul replied incredulously with his eyes wide.

“he’s just probably jealous. he wants some steak too.” you playfully stuck your tongue out before pushing taemin’s head so he would look in front once again.

exhibit c:

all of you are now playing the whisper challenge and it was yours and heechul’s turn. he was the one guessing and you were the one mouthing out the words. both of you are going at it for a while now and it makes you a bit frustrated on the inside. you can feel the sore throat creeping in as you blatantly repeated the same phrase over and over. he’s great at a lot of games but this one is definitely 100-percent not his forte.

“ah… ah ah, i know it now!” he finally said confidently with his right first up in the air. “i love you…”

his answer made you cover your face and burst out into fits of laughter before waving your hands in front of you indicating that he guessed the phrase wrong.

“i love you!” he repeated with more conviction.

“no, that’s not the word!” you shook your head while giggling.

“yeah, i know that’s not the word. i just want to say it to you.” he nodded before giving you finger hearts which you immediately reciprocate.

both of you are playfully flirting for most of the recording but this one got to be the cheesiness lines you heard today. 

taemin was pulled out from his train of thoughts when he heard you snickering loudly from across the room and his head hastily snapped in your direction. there you were, wearing a high school uniform that matches his and he was not going to lie, he was stunned when he saw you wearing it the first time this morning. you look bright and youthful with the red checkered bow around your neck. your high-waisted skirt emphasizes your curves. your pair of black thigh-high socks were the perfect length to make your legs look longer. your hair was pulled up on a half ponytail which he doesn’t usually see on you so it was a sight for him to remember. there was a soft blush on your cheeks and across the bridge of your nose. the gloss on your lips was also mesmerizing as it catches the light every time you speak. that didn’t help at all given the fact that he often caught himself staring at your lips too much lately.

seeing you made him think that if you both met as high school students, he would have undeniably confessed to you in an empty classroom after class. he chuckled at the thought. he was not quite sure if you would have liked him back in high school since he was not confident in himself back then.

his daydreaming was cut short when he realized who you were talking to. it was none other than the kim heechul. he can’t help but observe as the two of you conversed animatedly with each other. he knew that heechul was a funny guy but he’s not that hilarous for you to laugh that hard. while listening to whatever story he has been conjuring, you were pulling your hair up in a quick messy bun since the studio was quite hot with all the lights around. 

what happened next almost made taemin fell down from his seat. a scowl immediately appeared on his face as he watched heechul casually wiping the sweat on your nape with his handkerchief. not that taemin was counting but that was the 9th time he flirted with you today and not to mention that it was already after the show.

he bitterly watched as you both bid your goodbyes and now you were walking towards him. he cleared his throat and took another gulp from his water bottle.

“what’s with the long face?” you asked in fluent english as you sat down on the desk in front of him.

“what?” he looked up with a confused face.

“i thought you were taking english classes?” you mocked him–this time in korean. you nonchalantly reach out for his drink and took a sip.

you and taemin knew each other for quite a while now, almost 4 years to be exact. you were on friendly terms with him even before debuting as a duo but after spending these past few months preparing together, you have gotten much closer with him. too close that it became complicated for both of you. it was quite obvious that you two were acting more than friends but no one clearly expressed their feelings yet. the tension between you and him when you were alone became heavier and heavier as the days went by. you always have this urge to bring up the situation you two are in but everytime you were about to speak out, taemin would suddenly open up a conversation about a whole different topic.

“so what were you and heechul-hyung talking about a while ago?” yep, lee taemin always has awful timing.

“he just wanted to make sure that he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable during the recording a while ago.” you shrugged.

“oh, how sweet of him.” taemin scoffed and straighten up from his seat. “he even has to wipe your sweat for you.” he muttured under his breath.

“what was that?” you already heard what he said but it was too faint and you just wanted to make sure.

“nothing.” of course he would deny it. what did you expect?

“so… are you like jealous of heechul or something?” you were only joking, well half-joking. you used this opportunity to slowly open up the topic and to finally know where do you stand in his life.

he held your gaze for a few seconds before crossing his arms across his chest. you were not fully prepared for his serious stare and for what he said next. “and what if i am?”

“huh?” your dumbfounded voice was a couple of notes higher than usual.

“i said,” he leaned forward and looked up to you under his lashes. “what if i am jealous?”

you sat there frozen. you helplessly stared back at his eyes and looked for any signs that he was just fooling around. except it was clear as day, he meant what he said. you always have waited for this. you imagined all the possible scenarios. you even prepared what you would say once this was brought up but why were you speechless now? why do you feel all clammy and nervous? why can’t you calm down your frantic heartbeats?

you took a deep breath and forced yourself to bring back the confidence you once had. “then why don’t you ask me out already so you don’t have to feel threatened with every guy out there.”

“you know what?” he stood up and suddenly he was now towering over you. his scent wrapped all around you and it made you overheat even more. “i might just do that.”

“then i might just say yes.” you crossed your arms and hoped that it can disguise your slight shaking. whether it was from excitement or not, you do not know anymore. everything was happening so fast that you were not sure if you were comprehending them properly. you felt light-headed as you waited in silence.

“so we’re doing this?” his low voice broke the stillness.

“yes!” you responded a little too enthusiastically for your liking. you’re a mess right now, you ain’t denying that.

taemin chuckled softly before discreetly slipping his fingers under yours. 

oh, god. you felt a shock and then a shiver from his touch. it was not like it was your first time to have skin-to-skin contact but this one was quite different. you can feel the tension slowly rising along with the heat on your cheeks. you can feel the frustrations that were build up every time you wanted to touch him in a not-so-friendly manner. you were willing to bet your life that he was currently feeling the same as you when you witnessed his eyes dilate and darken.

“look, as much as i want to make out with you right now. we can’t.” he took a step back and put his hands in the pockets of his black slacks.

you felt both relief and disappointment when he widened the distance between you two. you can now catch a breather at last.

“i mean we can’t… here.” he suggestively added before turning away. “i’ll be waiting in my dressing room.”

there goes your breath again. 

it took you a minute to recover after hearing his inviting words. you looked around while you fan your warm face with your hands as if it helped with cooling yourself off. you closed your eyes and relaxed yourself for who knows how many times already. you then hopped down the desk and made your way to the place you can’t wait to go to.

if this was what jealousy does to taemin, you absolutely cannot wait to see more of it.

[tomatograter]

New to the fandom, Could you explain June? 💯 Love and support her. But homestuck 2 doesn't have her and I'm just confused?

June Egbert precedes the concept of homestuck^2! I’ve seen a lot of people be confused about this because they weren’t active on the fandom at the time the epilogues dropped, when reading her as a trans woman got a lot of discussion going and eventually lead to multiple confirmations.

So here’s an attempt at contextualization:

Throughout Homestuck, a few key ideas about Egbert’s identity and motivation to push forward with her hero’s journey are dropped like breadcrumbs. She’s meant to play the default straight-man protagonist. Her defining traits are ridiculously… generic, when compared to how all the other kids present themselves and stick to exaggerated bits. She’s a perfectly normal, regular suburban kid with normal, suburban issues. 

She may not leave her room a whole lot. She may not have a lot of real life friends in the neighborhood. She holds a comical irritation for the concept of birthdays, even though her father is extremely supportive, and is delighted to see his son grow up nice and healthy. There’s no reason for her to be so irrationally upset at cakes and gifts, and that’s what makes the setup funny! June doesn’t even know why she’s annoyed with half of the things that annoy her, what the heck.

But under all that playing around there is a sense that her life is so normal, so blasé, so unexciting and limiting and hollow and fake that she’d give anything to not be herself, even if only for ten minutes. This goes way, way back. It’s why June needs SBURB to happen.

June lives as though her life hasn’t started yet. She’s stuck in the Tutorial stage. I would argue while most kids (and trolls) play SBURB to escape a shitty environment or the end of the world as they know it, June plays for a simpler reason: She needs to escape herself, and she needs to do it before it is too late. 

Being thirteen means crossing the homeric abyss between being a child with no care for the world sporting a generic hand-me-down identity and becoming a Teen (capital T) who needs to figure out how to cope with atrocious bodily changes while building the adult they’re meant to be AND deciding what the fuck they want out of life, and how they’re going to work to get it, forever and ever.

When you’re trans, and you don’t yet know you’re trans (or that this is a thing you’re even ALLOWED to be) the above feels a lot like serving a life sentence for an intangible crime.

You know what you’re supposed to do. You’ve seen it on tv, you’ve heard it from your dad, you know what are the normal trials and tribulations. You know you'll grow a few pimples and stubble and you'll need to learn how to shave, obviously, because it's basically a tradition in your family, and no one is really happy to be a teen. You know at some point you'll find a nice girl and you'll grow a hat out of your skull and then you will have to pay taxes and maybe you will have a baby daughter? You'd like it to be a daughter for no particular reason. And when you get a daughter you're going to name her Casey and she's going to be adorable and this is something you've dedicated a lot of thought to. Maybe its because you thought Nic Cage looked really cool with those long flowing locks in con air, the movie who featured a trans woman as a minor character for a few minutes (and she gets quite a bit of compliments, regardless of how the movie has aged), and he had a really exciting life, but goddamn did he love his daughter. There is no purer love than the bond between a father and his daughter. 

This absolutely has nothing to do with your father and you, or how you hold no excitement for becoming an adult man, or how your father's excitement for you becoming an adult man in your stead feels a little stifling.

But i digress.

June spends her time on SBURB mostly hassling karkat, and readily following the instructions of zany, dangerous, COOL girls that seem to know what they're doing. June lets Terezi lead her to certain death without blinking. June lets Vriska dress her up as soon as opportunity presents itself. June thinks its really funny to trick this troll Who Types Really Oddly into believing she's Rose, and also into believing that she's a very silly girl. You may even say Homestuck employs a few of jokes pertaining to how her name looks like EGG !

June has a ball playing this game until it starts to get shitty. She's never able to mend her relationship with her dad, as he's one of the first causalities. She has to spend a lot of time waiting around with jade on a ship until things get cool and exciting again, but she never stops growing during those three years. Its fine, though, because there's always more things to be done and more people to fight.

Until there aren't, and they make a new earth, and while everyone cheers and claps for the birth of a new planet June realizes all her excuses are over. Her friends begin to grow up. Rose gets married. Jade is living her best life. Dave has a not-boyfriend glued to his hip. Jane has a job. Jake is on TV for some reason. June doesn't want to leave home. June's birthday is around the corner again. Here come all the congratulations for becoming a strong lad for yet another year! Vriska is gone. Terezi is gone. SBURB is over. Wacky hijinks have been swapped for real-ass, boring-ass Regular life. We watch her unsuccessfully chase after the glory of days gone by when Rose presents her the possibility of going back into the game, when things were cool and mattered, or her flimsy decision to settle down with a nice girl she hasn’t really made an effort to know and become a father and be absolutely miserable for four decades as she asserts nothing is real, not anymore, and this is just how it is.

Depersonalization, depression and general apathy towards the world are all pronounced aspects of dysphoria that seem like unrelated incidents for someone who hasn't came out yet. June's trainwreck of a life post-game, specially her feeling of hollowness and chasing after anything that could fill it struck a chord with trans readers who left the epilogues to read HS again and discovered this has always sort of been here. June being a trans woman who doesn't have the proper vocabulary to express she is a trans woman makes a lot of earlier bits from the comic click into place, now in a broader context. We settled in the name "June" because it's what she imagines Vriska is calling her at some point, amid laughs, but even that was discussed for a lengthy period last year. What would she want to be called, what are possible tags for this, etc. But it was mostly for fun and games, because the prospect of the protagonist of a 10 year old beloved cult series being ACTUALLY confirmed as a trans woman just wasn't something that was done.

Until word got around to Andrew Hussie and he was reportedly so pleased with this interpretation of events he’d be making references to it, and some time later, a box of toblerones was left in a cave as a gift for fans to find. The first person to find a toblerone thought it would be funny to dedicate it to June, because now she was an ongoing reference that was fun to make. Instead of it ending there, Hussie logs on twitter for the first time in a long while to say 'Oh yeah, i'll make it happen' and that's when the whole thing exploded. I have a post detailing this made a year ago (with pictures!) so i won't keep you here.

In the year since, June has been vaguely alluded to in Pesterquest (in jade's end card, she's having her nails painted by rose.) Has been widely adopted by the community, those making their own fanventures and continuations, and the team behind Homestuck^2. In every way that matters, she's already thriving within the community that brought her to light a year ago. But her coming out in canon is something that will take time and a proper narrative arc to happen, one that is still being set up. We know it'll come eventually, the only question is “how”.

Not that the wind waits for anyone.

[chockfullofsecrets]

"If I'm not careful I'm gonna end up writing content for a character who literally never appears in 141 episodes"

I mean, you are more than welcome to. In fact, we will gratefully encourage this.

you encourage chock? you encourage chock like the author? oh! oh! tk fic for anon! tk fic for anon for Two Thousand Words!

(also, heads up that i am moving next week! have been working on Importance of Timing when i can, but the first chapter probably won't be here for another two weeks at least.)

---

Verin Thelyss, Essek knows, is a seasoned battle commander and strategist.

He’s also in possession of the instinct to tackle people when he’s excited, so Essek is well aware that it’s only those decades of training and experience that have his little brother pausing for the briefest instant as Caleb and Jester teleport him into the hold of the Nein Heroez before he launches himself at Essek in a dead run.

Veth and Caduceus are at their respective homes, Kingsley watching over the ship, but he is far from alone - Yasha and Fjord each have a supportive hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance from the tense minutes waiting for their friends to return from Bazzoxan. They swear in unison and scramble for their weapons as Verin screeches to a halt just shy of shunting Essek straight though the hull and yanks him into a rib-crushing hug.

He burrows into the junction of Essek’s neck and shoulder, made possible only by virtue of the activated floating spell that puts the coiffed swoop of his hair a full inch above Verin’s. “Thank the fucking Light, you’re not actually dead.”

“What the fuck, he’s like a swearing puppy,” Beau hisses. There’s a soft thwap as Fjord gently smacks her across the back of the head.

Essek is feeling out the edges of friendly intimacy, still, stumbling through every brush of fingers and shared look of exasperation, but even he does not need Jester’s frantic gesturing to prompt him to lift his arms and awkwardly wrap them around Verin’s shoulders.

It’s like wrapping a single thread of silk around one of Yasha’s biceps. Clearly he is not built for comforting.

Verin stiffens with a single sharp twitch of his ear against Essek’s collarbone . Essek’s thoughts flail wildly between an expectation of tears or a dagger to his ribs, but his brother just laughs, loud and hearty, and snuggles even further into his personal space. “I see someone’s finally taught you how to hug back - you should have written and told me, this is better news than any number of pages on den politics.”

Essek bristles. “Careful, or I will stop,” he huffs, somewhat more waspishly than he intends to.

Luckily, Verin has proven immune to his moods. “Oh, please don’t,” he insists, voice still crackling with glee. He grins, warm and wide enough that Essek can feel it against the side of his neck. “It just makes doing this that much easier.”

“Doing what,” Essek says reflexively, even as the tiny portion of his brain that he allows to remember his childhood starts to blare an alarm. “Verin-”

It’s far too late to realize that Verin’s hands have somehow been maliciously positioned just along the backs of his ribs.

Jester, standing with Caleb behind Verin, perks up in clear interest as the corners of his mouth start to twitch up. On second thought, Essek thinks he’d have preferred the dagger.

“Verin,” he hisses again, fighting back the anticipatory shiver crawling up his back. “Don’t - don’t you dare-”

It’s about then that Verin’s evil, evil fingers find the edges of his mantle’s arm slits and squeeze him even closer as they stretch to wriggle under his arms.

He snatches his arms back, but it’s too late - a dismayed giggle sneaks from his throat, then another, and then he’s beating helplessly at Verin’s shoulders as he dissolves into high, squeaking laughter.

Every single nerve between his armpits and his ribs squirms in unison - a bubbly, slippery sensation even more potent for how long it’s been since he last felt it. “No,” he shrieks. “I - ahaha! eeheee! - no tickling, no tickling, Verin-”

Jester looks thrilled - she’s bouncing on her toes, babbling something to Caleb that’s inaudible over the rush of his own laughter. Light, the Nein are going to tear him apart for this-

“Yes, tickling,” Verin protests, laughing right along with him. “All the tickling! You let me think you were dead! For months! I thought I was never going to get to watch my poor brother giggle himself to pieces ever again!”

He’s not, because Essek is going to kill him. “That - nahaha, hff, ahaaa! - that was - ha - it’s been decades - stop, stop, there’s people!”

“Yeah, people,” Beau says, loud and smug and far too close behind him. “Hey - Verin, was it? - does hotboi here have a worst spot?”

Oh no. Oh no. Essek squeezes his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to focus and does the only thing he can while laughing like an idiot.

With a shaky flick of his wrist, his floating dispels. Verin yelps in surprise as gravity takes Essek straight out of his grip.

The instant his boots hit the deck, Essek twists the rest of the way out of his grip and bolts.

There’s nowhere to go, really - the Nein have a room full of Counterspells, and Verin can run faster than he can, and he’s already tumbling halfway back into laughter in giddy anticipation of being caught. Still, it’s a surprise when he stumbles into a brick wall of leather and biceps that resolves itself into Yasha as she hoists him back into the air.

“Oh, where do you think you’re going?” She sounds admirably innocent given the soft, teasing smile she gives him.

“Noooo,” Essek giggles. Heat gathers in his cheeks as he tries to make himself stop - it doesn’t make sense, he’s not even being tickled anymore, but even the potential for it flutters light and fizzy at the bottom of his lungs. “I - I’m not ticklish anymore, I’m not-”

The Nein and Verin cluster around the two of them, bubbling with various levels of amusement. “Really?” Beau drawls. “It’s cute that you think denying it has a single fucking chance of working.”

The sarcasm helps him center himself, if only a little - he buries his face in Yasha’s arm and sucks in a deep breath that doesn’t do nearly enough to get rid of his blush.

He straightens as best he can while being bear hugged by a barbarian. “I am denying nothing,” he says carefully. Jester is still bouncing next to Beau, fingertips already twitching where they’re curled sweetly on her cheeks around a mischievous beaming smile, and Essek has to look away before the nervous snickers still wobbling on the back of his tongue can worm their way free. “I am well aware that Verin is - incorrigible-”

He hisses the last word in his brother’s direction - again, harsher than he intends, but he is so unused to being soft around him - and fails to contain a shy smile as Verin sticks his tongue out in retaliation.

Jester’s tail waves its way into the edge of his peripheral vision. He jumps and looks over at Fjord instead. “-but I, ah, I would ask for more respect from the rest of you-”

“You really shouldn’t,” Fjord says, grinning boyishly back at him. “I mean, you know us.”

And then, to Fjord’s right - “Essek?”

He’s been avoiding looking at Caleb. It is foolish, perhaps, to think that after all of the incredibly stupid things he knows Essek has done he will decide to judge him for this, but he cannot help the way his shoulders stiffen as he twists a little further to meet the gaze of the last link in their semicircle. “Yes?”

Caleb looks - focused, in an offhanded way, like he’s intent on something happening just slightly out of their current reality. Stunned might be a better word for it. He blinks for a moment before focusing those keen blue eyes somewhere near Essek’s eyebrows. “Ah - did you know that when you laugh, your ears -” He puts his hands up to his own ears and flaps them a little.

Drow do not run particularly warm, but that only makes it easier for Essek to feel the heat absolutely flood back into his face. “I-” he stammers. Nearly a century of politics is nowhere near enough to help him keep a straight face. “I - ah - eeh!-”

Caleb is close enough to reach out and run a questing fingertip over Essek’s left ear - it flicks wildly, trying to dislodge the unexpected tickle, but a surprised squeak still slips out.

There’s a moment of silence before Verin starts to snicker. “Oh, I like your friends,” he says merrily, beaming. “Go on, Light knows he doesn’t let himself laugh enough otherwise.”

“Don’t,” Essek gets out hastily, but Caleb is already reaching out for another go and Yasha’s grip is firm enough that all he can do is squeak again. “Wait - hm, hnn!”

Beau sidles up to Yasha’s side and gives him a self satisfied leer as she reaches out across their little group to pluck the feather from Fjord’s tricorn. “You got him, babe?”

“I do,” Yasha confirms and lets out a little squeak of her own as Beau reaches around her, no doubt squeezing something entirely inappropriate with company present.

“Hot,” Beau smirks, and reaches to flutter the feather over Essek’s right ear. “Aw, does that tickle? Thought you said you weren’t ticklish, man.”

Essek maintains some facsimile of composure for all of two seconds before his face crumples “Nnn - hehehe - eheehe - oh!”

His lungs are surely going to burst, with the way they’re shivering out desperate giggles as he shakes his head frantically between Caleb’s fingers and the teasing feather. He can’t move his arms, so he kicks his legs instead. “Please,” he begs, nearly incomprehensible even to his own ears. “Ah - aha, heeheehee! - tickles-”

Verin leans down and scoops his ankles up with one ridiculously sculpted arm. “Essek, you’re going to put a hole in someone with those boots.”

He looks up, raising his eyebrows teasingly, and Essek’s stomach drops like he’s cast something on it. “Here, I’ll fix that.”

Essek’s eyes, narrowed with laughter, shoot wide open. He doesn’t remember Verin being this evil - but then again, his brother’s never been egged on by five other people determined to render reports of his death more realistic.

“Verin, Verin, no-” he tries, but he’s giggling so hard that he can’t even get the words out. He twists as far away from Caleb and Beau as he can, flailing frantically, but Verin’s grip holds firm.

He pouts dramatically. “What? Is it my fault that my tiny, ticklish wizard brother insists on wearing metal-tipped boots that endanger everyone?”

Essek opens his mouth to reply and promptly dissolves into another frantic peal of laughter as Beau gets bored of his ears and shoves her feather in Caleb’s direction before jabbing a finger between his trapped arm and his chest to get at his armpit. “Your - shihihit, shit, ahahaaa, not there! - your arcanist brother is going to kill you just as soon as I can- hahaha!”

Verin just laughs, unlacing one of his boots and starting to slide it off. “Is that your attempt to convince me not to tickle your feet?”

Jester, practically vibrating, emits a sound that perhaps only weasels can hear. “Oh, that’s so cute! Can I have one of them?”

“One of his feet? Sure.” Verin hands over an ankle, grinning down at Jester. “You, I think you’re my favorite.”

As Essek gasps and struggles and falls further and further into a formless mirth that makes him feel so light he can hardly bear it, there’s a different sensation at his ear. A hazy portion of his brain identifies it as the rough bristle of chin scruff and an amused huff of breath.

“You don’t really want them to stop, do you,” Caleb murmurs. “I will help you, if you do.”

It’s quite unfair, Essek feels, to try and make him explain himself while he’s strung out and dizzy with laughter. He tries anyway, for a syllable or two, but Verin digs in between two of his toes and he ends up just tipping his cheek against Caleb’s and shaking, laughing too hard to make a single sound.

“Alright, then,” Caleb says. “In that case-”

He brandishes the feather with a flourish more suited to somatic casting, swooping it down the length of Essek’s nose before directing it back to his ear.

“Tickle, tickle...”

[ayamturd]

nothing│tommyinnit

summary: despite being decades apart, tommy and y/n are connect by a shared phone line; emotions stir and hope is cut. 

warnings: angst, nothing but angst imsorry

pairing: (requested) time!au (?) w/ tommy

a/n: please, huge credit and recognition to astr0nomika for her story “Flowers from 1970.” it’s so beautiful y’all, i recommend for all those that need a raw, heartbreaking story

as a side note, this is only an interpretation of the ending since i wouldn’t want to completely copy or follow astr0nomika’s original story

wc: (1.0k) - m.list

“Hey you.”

You gripped the phone tightly, desperately trying to ground yourself once hearing it ring. It was silent on the other end, and while you tried to fill the void with a greeting, you could barely hear him breathe. 

Glancing around the room and letting out a shaky breath, you closed your eyes to how vulnerable you felt. It had been days since you last heard from him, yet even then, you still were at a loss for what words to say.

“It’s been a while since you called, I missed hearing your voice.”

There was an inhale, and then a sigh. You unconsciously leaned closer once knowing he was actually there, actually present in the moment with you despite being decades some time before. 

“Tommy?”

He cleared his throat before answering.

“Hey y/n, it’s been a bit, yeah.” You closed your eyes at the sound of his voice, while low and slightly muffled through the line, it brought a sense of calm over you. 

In spite of the calm, you picked up on his sad tone, almost as if he seemed regretful or lost when talking. You bit your lip with anticipation and furrowed brows in concern. 

“Why do you sound upset? What happened, are you okay?” Tommy briefly wheezed as you rushed out your words. He found your worry endearing and gave a shake of his head in how much you cared for him. Dropping his eyes towards the ground, he attempted to reassure you. 

“No no, I’m alright. I’m great. I just… I missed hearing you too.” With a shy smile, you pulled the old telephone cord absentmindedly with your finger from his response. 

“Well I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”

There was a slight pause. Tommy audibly sucked in a breath, confusing you further to if he was truly okay. He was holding something back, you realized, and he was trying not to tell you. 

“What is it?” 

Tommy was reluctant, but from the serious drop your tone, he knew better than to lie. Bracing himself from his next course of action, he whispered gently to you, “I’m sorry, y/n.”

You froze, more confused but scared to his meaning. You felt stiff as you tried to clear the air and understand what he could possibly be apologizing for. 

“Tommy?” Your voice wavered in question, and you stared jarringly at the wall as if he could see your gaze.��

“Do you like me?” His question was so fast that you almost missed it; unfortunately, you didn’t. Your voice hitched, feeling exposed to the connotations. As you spoke to clarify, Tommy lost patience and interrupted you. 

“What are yo-”

“Do you like me, y/n? Like, like me more than a friend?”

At a loss for words, you nodded. You had barely accepted the fact for yourself, the situation of your current relationship with him already impossible to understand. You nodded, as if to officially allow the truth to settle before voicing them aloud.

“I do,” you whispered hesitantly, “I really do, yes.” 

You waited for his response, anxious from the weight of the words as it finally escaped you after so many months of communicating with him. As the silence continued to grow, however, you opened your mouth to speak, becoming accepting to the fact that he didn’t return the same feelings, when he cut you off again. 

“I’m sorry, but I- we can’t talk anymore.”

Panicked from his finality, you tried to fight with him hopelessly. Even if it wasn’t possible, you didn’t want to lose him entirely over something as trivial as your emotions. 

“No, wait please! I promise it’s nothing serious,” you expressed quickly. Tommy began to reason with you, driving you further to explain yourself. 

“Tommy, it’s nothing, it’s nothing if it means I loose you. Please.”

“It’s not nothing, y/n. You can’t tell me otherwise now.” You whimpered, hating the fact that he was right, and that you’ve never regretted anything as much as your admittance. 

“It’s nothing, Tommy,” you repeated, the dejection present in your voice, yet firm in argument. “It doesn’t mean anything, it’s never has and never will if you-”

Tommy practically growled from your defense before snapping. 

“It is when I like you back!” Tommy yelled. His outburst shocked you, and you barely grasped the meaning behind his words from the volume he screamed. He panted from shouting, the buildup of his own truth coming out and terrifying him further. 

“I like you too, y/n. More than a friend.”

While one would think you would feel elated to your returned feelings, there was something in the way he yelled, the way he carried his tone regarding the conversation. You blinked harshly to the burn of your tears, scared of what was to supposedly come. 

“Please don’t do this,” you rasped out, stepping forward in fear. You clenched you eyes shut, and used both of your hands to hold the phone closer, if humanly capable. 

“Take care of yourself, please.”

“Tomm-”

The dead line cut you off, your throat dry from the implications it brought. 

“Tommy?” you croaked out, waiting for his voice to come through again. 

It didn’t.

You were still in shock as the broken line continued to ring, its loud, dragging sound echoing around you. Eyes wide, you couldn’t even process the facts clearly enough to fully cry. You pulled the phone handle from your ear, and slowly, placed it back in its rotary hold. 

With a beating heart that pounded in your ears, you slowly sunk to your knees at the realization you were alone. You were alone, and held yourself at the fact that he never could. 

Unbeknownst to you, in the very same room, in the very same spot, a broken heart cried at the realization himself of what he had done years prior before. Scissors in hand, Tommy chucked the metal things across the room, eyes blurred from tears as he began leaning against the nearest wall and holding the cut phone close to his heart. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n” he cried out, his face held tight in anger from his own actions at the reality he forced you both to meet. 

“It was never meant to be.”

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling  my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach. 

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them. 

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone. 

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow. 

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling. 

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt. 

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is. 

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing. 

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled. 

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head. 

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered. 

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered. 

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered. 

She sighed. 

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.” 

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger. 

 The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. 

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced. 

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way. 

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days. 

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted. 

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.” 

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly. 

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out.  “ I shuddered. 

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing .  Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well. 

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind. 

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again. 

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about  with pretty feminine clothes . 

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me. 

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not. 

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes .  When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank. 

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him. 

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth. 

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over. 

The nerve. 

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up. 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.” 

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not. 

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. 

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped. 

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset. 

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard . 

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply. 

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing. 

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that’s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on. 

 “ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart. 

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists . 

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind? 

“Okay.” 

“Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me. 

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?” 

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look. 

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened. 

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance. 

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.” 

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly. 

Coward. 

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out. 

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly. 

 Ugh.

 “ They’ve asked me out before, yes.” 

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen. 

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly. 

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous. 

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently. 

My father’s gaze snapped to mine. 

A small frown made its way to his face. 

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench. 

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile. 

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth . 

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him. 

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me. 

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face. 

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter. 

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly. 

My father was slightly slack jawed. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is  my  neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon. 

Daughter, my ass. 

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly. 

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?” 

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded. 

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon. 

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong. 

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare. 

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away. 

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.” 

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “ 

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned. 

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately. 

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “ 

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.” 

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered. 

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed. 

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned. 

Jungkook groaned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As luck would have it,  my friend cancelled . 

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently. 

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged. 

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.  

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him. 

And I couldn’t forget that. 

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked. 

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head. 

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow. 

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed . 

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan.   “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips. 

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence. 

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.” 

“He loves you.” I breathed , “  You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden. 

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted. 

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop. 

I had to tell him this. 

 “ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest. 

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well. 

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called. 

I groaned. 

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently. 

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.” 

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine. 

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.” 

And just like that the wall grew between us. 

His kids and my kids. 

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me. 

He would never be for me. 

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry. 

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. . 

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[honey-dewey]

Between Old Friends and New Lovers

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: blood, biting, mind control, but it’s all very minor.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell​

A/N: This is my first time making a header of sorts for my fics! I quite liked how this one turned out. 

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

The manor was always cold. Not that you minded much, but sometimes the ever-present chill in the air drove away your guests. Again, you didn’t mind all too much. Guests were never your forte. But he, well. He was always different. 

“Your Grace?” Your lady in waiting, Camille, came into your study, bowing her head down. “You have a visitor.” 

“Is it his visiting day already?” You asked, checking your date book. 

Camille nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. It is.” 

You smiled, putting down your pen and moving from out behind your desk. “Thank you kindly Camille. Send him to the sitting room and inform him I shall be down momentarily.” 

Camille left, and you hummed to yourself, straightening out your papers and setting your pen back down next to its respective inkwell. As you worked, you reminisced on the day you had met your favorite human being. 

Two years prior

You sighed, listening to the rain slam against the windows as you worked on a few neglected pieces of paperwork. It was mostly finances, but it all had to be done, and so you were doing it. Tonight was supposed to be horribly rainy, with scattered thunderstorms and no sign of stopping until the sun rose. You didn’t mind. It made hunting harder, but you didn’t need to hunt for a while. 

A sharp bolt of lightning lit up your study, and you finally shut your accounting book, deciding your work could wait until after the storm passed. You stood, pushing your chair back in. Office work was annoying at best. You’d much rather see people in person, share a cup of tea, and continue to build your reputation as the mysterious gothic Duke/Duchess who lived almost entirely alone. But paperwork, it seemed, was easier to send, and it meant most people could avoid your often intimidating presence. 

“Camille!” You called through the manor, shutting and locking the study. “Camille?” Usually your lady in waiting was somewhere nearby, working on her own work within earshot. But now, you had to tune your hearing up past what was normal to hear Camille’s pattering heartbeat and nervous breaths. Why was Camille nervous? She’d been serving the manor for three years, she’d stopped being nervous in the old building last year. 

“Camille!” You shouted, moving towards the sitting room she was inhabiting, worried for her safety. She should’ve alerted you immediately to a guest, and you were starting to grow concerned. Her heart rate spiked, only for a moment, and you heard her rushing footsteps coming towards you. 

“Yes, Your Grace?” Camille asked, rounding the corner and looking up at you through her eyelashes. “You called?” 

You nodded, dialing back your hearing so Camille’s close voice didn’t overwhelm you. “Have we got a visitor?” 

Camille bowed her head, nodding slightly. “I was just setting him up in the sitting room,” she said quickly. “I was about to come get you as soon as he was settled.” 

Smiling at the reassurance, you began to walk to the sitting room, where Camille had just come from. “Walk with me,” you said, and Camille hurried after you. “Is the man lost?” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said, walking a pace behind you. “He said his car broke down and he saw the manor. He asked for shelter from the storm.” 

“How is he?” You asked, already envisioning the man settled in your sitting room. “Healthy?” 

Camille nodded, her face going pale. “Yes, Your Grace,” she responded. “He’s young and seemingly in good health.” 

The sitting room doors came into sight, and you smiled, turning to Camille. “How do I look?” 

“Perfect,” Camille responded, glancing at the ornate silver-backed mirror in the hall. Only she showed up, standing beside the silhouette of your clothes. You straightened your collar, running your fingers over the two neat lines of shining buttons before adjusting your gloves and pushing the sitting room door open.

Immediately, you noticed the smell. Deep and foreign, you had to dial your senses back further than you normally would to stand it. Leather and cologne and a deep internal lust mixed with the smell of the city. He was from New York City, you could practically taste it on him. He looked odd, but no odder than you, decked in all black and leather, every bit of metal on him glimmering in the low lamplight as he moved. You took a breath, but no silver. You were safe. 

Looking the man up and down, you tried to silently determine whether he was one of you. You knew that the younger generation preferred to stay in cities, and called themselves goth in order to maintain the aesthetic. But despite his unique, timeless features, the man smelled organic and human, and you could hear his heart beating, a steady constant in the back of your hearing. 

Your guest stood, and you smiled politely. “Welcome,” you said sweetly, clasping your hands in front of you. “I apologize for not welcoming you to the manor myself.” 

The man smirked, looking you up and down. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “Nice place.” 

“Thank you.” You sat in a chair in front of the fireplace, crossing your legs and gesturing for your guest to sit beside you. “Family estate. Would you like a fire?” You noticed the man was wet, and you assumed he’d been caught in the storm. 

“I wouldn’t mind one,” the man agreed, and you gestured Camille over. 

“Camille, would you mind starting a fire?” You asked. “And when you’re done, I would love some tea.” 

Camille nodded, exiting the room and leaving you alone with your guest. 

“May I have your name?” You asked politely, turning your full attention to the man. 

He nodded. “You can call me Dio.” 

“Dio.” The name turned over like a fine wine on your tongue. “A bit of a presumptuous nickname, don’t you think?” 

Dio raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said slowly, in a tone that told you he knew exactly what you meant. 

You stood, moving to stand in front of the fireplace. “I mean, calling yourself a god. Albeit in a different language, but still. Even I wouldn’t go that far.” 

“Even you?” Dio questioned, leaning back in his chair. “Explain.” 

“Well.” You gestured around at the ornate sitting room, at the dark embroidered seat cushions and the deep wooden surfaces surrounding you. “It does seem rather on brand for someone of my status, does it not?” 

Dio’s smirk returned. “Of course,” he said, digging through his pockets and pulling out a box of cigarettes. “Instead you call yourself Duke/Duchess.” 

“It would be improper of me to not,” you pointed out. “It is, in fact, my title. You, however, have no title, Shane Morrissey.” 

Dio’s face went pale and the cigarette dropped from between his fingers, hitting the carpet below his feet with almost no noise. “How-“ 

At that moment, Camille pushed the door open, rolling in a cart with firewood and a tea tray. While she busied herself with the fire, you sat back down, taking Dio’s cigarette from the floor, lighting it on Camille’s match and handing it back to the stunned man. “I usually don’t allow guests to smoke,” you said casually. “But I suppose I can make an exception. Just this once.” You pushed an ashtray across the table, smiling. “You were saying?” 

Dio blinked, wide eyed. “How do you know-“ 

“Your name?” You finished for him, accepting an empty teacup from Camille and nodding to her when she set the tray on the table and left once more. “I could see your identification card in your pocket when you reached for your cigarettes. But if you would prefer to be referred to as Dio, I will do so.” 

Dio seemingly relaxed. But he was still on edge as you poured yourself some tea. 

“It’s a lovely black currant tea, if you’re interested,” you said, not even looking up as you poured the thick black tea into your cup. “I see Camille brought two cups.” As you spoke, you took the cream jug and poured a splash into your tea, setting the jug aside from the rest of the set. “I promise it isn’t poison,” you added sweetly, taking a sip of your tea. 

Despite your humorous remark, Dio still seemed cautious, waiting until you had taken a sip to pour himself a cup of tea. He didn’t add sugar, simply sat back and cradled the cup in his hands. You wondered if he was still cold. But the fire was going and you could feel it warming your skin, even if the feeling of warm and cold were long since lost to you. 

“So, Dio,” you said, watching Dio take a sip of his tea. “You live in the city, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” Dio’s voice was guarded, hesitant. He was scared of you. 

You hummed, nodding to yourself. “I haven’t seen the city,” you admitted. “Do you enjoy it?” 

Dio shrugged. “It’s alright.” 

You sighed. “Dio,” you said firmly, forcing his attention to snap to you. “Do I scare you?” 

“What?” Dio asked, surprised. “I mean.” His eyes went glassy as you waved your hand, forcing him to tell the truth. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Dio’s hand shook, spilling tea over his skin. “I-“ he faltered, blinking a few times, face pulling tight. “I don’t know.” 

You waved your hand again, releasing Dio from your hold. “Maybe I should explain,” you said, standing and setting your cup down. “I am (F/N) (L/N), sole heir to my name and the last remaining Duke/Duchess of this land. I have held my title and estate for over twelve decades, and I am a vampire.” 

Dio was silent, so silent you had to wonder if you had broken him. But eventually, he nodded slowly, setting his cup down. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.” 

“You’re not dreaming,” you added helpfully. “Nor is this a hallucination caused by the tea.” 

“Yeah,” Dio agreed quietly. “What about Camille, is she?” 

“Oh of course not!” You said, sitting back beside Dio and picking up your cup again. “No, we don’t keep preternatural staff anymore. Her family has been in service to my family since long before I was born, and she seemed happy enough to have the job once I reached out. I do pay quite well.” 

“Anymore?” Dio wondered out loud. “Tell me more about vampires. I want to know.” He leaned forward in his seat, and you grinned. It was rare you revealed yourself to a guest and were met with anything less than terror. But Dio seemed downright enthused. So you poured yourself a new cup of tea, adding a generous amount of cream this time, letting Dio see that it was not cream, but blood.

“Well. Where to start?” You mused. “I come from a long line of vampires, one of the longest in fact. My family, my bloodline if you will, was once well respected, but during the witch hunts, most of my kind died out. My mother survived and lived in this manor, alone, for centuries until she found me. I was lost, a wandering child, and she took me in and cared for me, turning me when the time was right.” 

“So where is she?” 

“Long dead,” you said, peeling your gloves off and setting them aside. “I’ve been the master of this estate for, oh, I guess it must be almost ninety years now. Yes, I inherited it during the depression.” 

Dio nodded, his cigarette long since forgotten in the ashtray. “So, how do you survive? How much blood do you need? Are you like Dracula? Do you have any powers? What-“ 

“Dio!” You cut him off with a raised hand and a chuckle. “I cannot possibly answer your every burning question right now.” You stood, looking out over the storm, which was fading. “Here. Let us make a deal. I will send you home safely, with no complications, and in turn, I will entertain you once a month, on the first Saturday, and I will answer one question. Only one, until you are satisfied.” 

Dio nodded, glancing out the window. “How do I know you aren’t just messing with me about the vampire thing?” He asked softly. 

You smiled. “Come with me.” 

He followed you out into the hall, where you guided him to the mirror just outside the sitting room. “Look,” you said, gesturing to the mirror. “It’s an old heirloom. Silver-backed, so I don’t appear in its surface.”

Dio gently reached out, touching the mirror with feather-light fingers. “You’re not,” he breathed. “It’s real.” 

“It is,” you agreed. “Now, get going Dio. I’ll see you in one month. Don’t be late.” 

Two years later

You opened the sitting room doors, seeing Shane sitting in his usual spot, right by the fireplace. He was already cradling his teacup, your cup sitting on the table, perfectly set up to your liking. 

“Shane!” You said happily, and Shane stood, allowing you to hug him tightly. “You’re on time.” 

“When am I not?” Shane asked, pulling away and sitting back down. “Shall we?” 

You laughed. “We shall.” 

Your cup was full to the brim of blood, no tea this time. It was a feeding day, and as much as you hated it, Shane promised he didn’t mind. 

“Actually,” you decided, setting your cup down without taking a sip. “Perhaps we should do this a different way.” 

“What do you mean?” Shane asked, worried. “Did I make it wrong? Camille brought me the teapot. She said it was your favorite.” 

You shook your head. “No Shane,” you said. “You’re perfectly good. In fact.” You stood, offering him your hand. “You’re more than good.” 

Standing, Shane let you lead him to the window, looking out over your night-darkened estate. “I don’t understand.” 

“I don’t want some stranger’s blood,” You purred softly, pushing Shane’s shirt collar down. “I want you, Shane. I want to taste you on my tongue, to have your life filling my belly and making me warm.” 

Shane gulped, his skin heating. “Really?” 

“Would I lie?” You asked, almost pouting. “My love, I would never. Say the words, and I will make you feel amazing.” 

Nodding, Shane put a hand to the window to brace himself. “I give you permission,” he said, voice wavering. “You may feed from me.” 

You smiled, putting your mouth to his neck and kissing, trailing to the perfect spot. He shivered, moaning softly when you nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. Curving your lips up at the shameless sounds you were eliciting from Shane, you finally found the sweet spot and dug your fangs in. 

If you thought Shane was vocal when you were just teasing, you were in for a surprise. As you lapped at the blood pooling on Shane’s skin, he writhed under you, moaning and breathlessly whining your name, both hands pressed fully to the window to keep stable. You licked a warm stripe up the curve of Shane’s neck, chuckling as he breathed heavily. “Do you like that, my love?” 

“Yes,” Shane gasped out. “Yes, I do, Your Grace.” 

You hummed, running a finger through the smeared blood and turning Shane around so he could see you suck his blood off your finger. “You taste exquisite,” you moaned around your finger. “So perfect.” You moved in again, licking up the last of the blood. 

Shane breathed loud against you, his breath disturbing your hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “More,” he begged as you pulled away. “Please.” 

“No more my love,” you said, wiping your mouth on a nearby towel. “I will not push you, especially on your first feeding.” You gently pressed the towel to Shane’s skin, occasionally pulling it away and checking on the wounds. Two perfect little puncture holes, still seeping the tiniest bit, marred Shane’s smooth skin. “I’ll call Camilla, have her clean you up properly.” 

While you two waited for Camilla, you lay beside the fireplace, Shane laying in your lap as you held a book, reading aloud to him and stroking gently through his hair. 

“I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck, she actually licked her lips like an animal.” You smiled, flicking the page and watching Shane’s eyes slide closed. “Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat,” you read softly, urging Shane to sleep, to rest as you read. 

Camille came in, carrying a tray of healing supplies. You gestured for her to leave them on the table, and she did, smiling at the sight of Shane in your lap before she ducked out of the room. 

“My love?” You asked, laying the book down and grabbing the bandages. “My love, may I see your neck?” 

Shane reflexively turned, showing you the side of his neck you’d fed from. You carefully dressed the wound, humming to yourself as you did so. 

“I never got a question today,” Shane murmured, startling you. 

“Oh.” You set down the roll of bandages, carding through Shane’s hair again. “What do you wish to ask today?” 

Shane leaned into your hands, grinning slightly. “Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked softly. “In a strictly non-vampire way.” 

You smiled, nodding. “Of course, my love,” you answered. “Of course.” 

As Shane’s eyes fluttered shut once more, you picked up the book, determined to finish at least this chapter. With Shane in your embrace and the warmth of the fire surrounding you, you continued to read your newly christened boyfriend to sleep. “I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with a beating heart.”

[icefire149]

30! Deancas, its cold so cas insists on a scarf instead of his tie

Char I'm so sorry this took a million years to write. Work and life kept me extremely busy, and then this lovely fic kept going in a different direction (which seems like a theme in every prompt I tackled). I really hope you enjoy this one, and have a lovely day :D

#30 - I love you mumbled into a scarf

Dean had his head buried so deep in thought about the impala’s winter maintenance that he almost missed the familiar foot steps breezing past in the garage. His eyebrows pressed together as he pulled his head out of the car. “Cas, buddy, where are you going?”

Cas stopped dead in his tracks, and turned on his heels. “Oh, Dean.” His gaze nervously glanced around the garage. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Are you okay?” Dean leaned against the side of the impala now, and crossed his arms. “You look kinda spooked.”

Cas’ gaze flitted around the car. “Do you happen to have Jack with you?”

“Nah,” Dean answered, scratching the back of his neck. “He went on a grocery run with Sam about a half hour ago.”

“Oh,” Cas exhaled, and visibly relaxed some. “That’s good. He’ll enjoy that greatly.”

“Did you need him?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

Dean walked around the car and stopped closer to Cas. “I’m gonna need more than that. What’s up?”

“I need to go Christmas shopping.”

Shaking his head slowly, Dean blinked. “Are….are we celebrating Christmas this year?”

“I’d like to,” Castiel confessed. “I know you and Sam have your own traditions and this is your home, but I’d like to give Jack his first Christmas since….last year he wasn’t here.”

“Oh.” The word tumbled out of Dean’s mouth. He was going to need time to process every verbal hit Cas pummeled him with. In a daze, he pointed at the impala with his thumb. “Do you want a ride?”

“Yes. Yes, of course,” Cas answered genuinely surprised. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He was still sorting Cas’ words when he found himself opening the impala’s door.

The angel slid into the front passenger seat, and they were off in the direction of the nearest shopping mall. It wasn’t until they hit their second red light that something finally clicked into place in his brain. “Is that why you tend to disappear around the holidays?” Turning, he kept his eyes on Cas long enough to see the twist in his expression.

“Maintaining customs, holiday traditions in this case are incredibly important to humans. I didn’t want to overstep or interfere.”

“You do realize I leave probably a dozen voice mails the closer it gets to Christmas, right?”

“Yeah, it’s quite irritating having my phone going off so often when I’m trying not to take from your time with Sam.”

“Cas,” Dean said exasperatedly. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, but the blaring honk of the car behind him momentarily cut off his train of thought. When traffic settled so did Dean, “I already get enough of Sammy, and I’m sure he’s more than sick of me too, especially around the holidays.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, I’ve been wanting you to join us….since forever. Seriously.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pained tone in his voice that startled Dean down to his core. He shivered involuntarily. Glancing over at Cas, he saw that the angel had his eyes glued out the window. It bothered Dean not being able to pin down what was bothering Cas. It felt like so much more was hidden in that apology.

Turning back to the road, Dean reached a hand out blindly until it connected with the sleeve of Cas’ coat. “There’s nothing to be that upset about, your heart was in the right place.”

Cas didn’t respond, and Dean didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he tightened it, but spoke with a note of levity. “And how many times do I gotta tell you that the bunker is your home too?”

“Once more, perhaps?”

Dean could feel the constriction in his chest loosen at the faint smile he could hear in Cas’ voice. He shook his head. “Giving Jack a real first Christmas is a great idea. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it months ago.”

“I think we’ve all been a bit too preoccupied.”

“Yeah.” Dean withdrew his hand and turned the car down the nearest exit. “You’re not wrong.” Basically since Jack was born they’ve been non-stop busy. The past few months in particular were miserable, for all of them.

“I know things aren’t one hundred percent safe with Michael still out there,” Cas started. “But I’m glad that you’ll be home for Christmas. I fear I would’ve ruined Jack’s holiday if you weren’t here.”

“Nah,” Dean argued, feeling his eyebrows pinch together. “My presence shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“Dean.” He could feel the angel’s stare sliding under his skin. “I left Jack with Sam so I could chase every whisper, blade, bullet, and trap that might lead to you. And from what I’ve gathered, Sam did much of the same passing Jack off on whoever was willing to keep an eye on him. That wasn’t fair to him, and I’m not proud of my behavior.”

“Hey,” Dean tried cutting through Cas’ frustration with himself. “You had no idea what Sam was gonna do.”

“Jack was never meant to be Sam’s responsibility. I-”

“You did the best you could at the time.” Cas didn’t answer, and Dean couldn’t risk taking his eyes off of traffic in that moment. “I mean it, and besides we’re well past that tunnel now. And we’re gonna give Jack a real Christmas.”

“Thank you.”

Dean hummed in response, and spotted what he was looking for: the sign for the mall. “Don’t tell Sammy, but-” He glanced at Cas’ curious expression. “since we found the bunker, I’ve always wanted to make it look like Christmas threw up all over the place.”

And to Dean’s genuine surprise, Cas laughed. It was happy and light, and when Dean turned for a heartbeat, the image of Cas with his head tilted back was branded into his memory. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin. “After growing up watching every Christmas special imaginable as a replacement for actually celebrating the holiday normally...I think it’s like making up for lost time if we go overboard.”

Another hearty laugh rocked Cas. “Makes logical sense to me.”

“Besides the kid will get a massive kick out of it.”

“I hope so,” Cas muttered, as the car came to a stop in the parking space.

“Oh trust me, he will,” Dean said throwing an arm behind the back of his seat and turning to face the angel. “Soooo….where to first?”

Cas observed their surroundings before letting his stare rest on Dean. “I’m not sure.”

“Well we can just check out whichever store is closest and work our way around. Sound good?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled softly.

Dean’s hand rested on the door handle, but the movement next to him made him pause. He watched Cas dig a hand into his jacket pockets until he pulled out a long, dark blue scarf. “Traded the tie out for a new accessory?”

The angel snapped his hands to his chest in order to hold the scarf tightly. “It’s new,” he said defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Dean grinned. “Did you go out of your way to buy something the same exact shade as your favorite tie?”

Cas’ eyes trailed down to the fabric between his fingers. “Maybe,” he answered after a short, meditative pause.

“It’s nice,” Dean said pushing his door open. “I was wondering where the tie was today.” He got out of the car and Cas quickly followed him on the other side.

Cas hooked the scarf behind his neck. “It felt redundant.” His expression quickly twisted in frustration as his hands failed to wrap the scarf in a way that would be comfortable.

“Need some help, buddy?”

The angel’s gaze pierced him like a knife, but that didn’t stop Dean from circling around the impala to stop directly in front of Cas. He held his hands out. “Just let….”

Cas’ hands fell to his sides, and the frustration slowly smoothed out of his face. His gaze locked onto Dean’s.

“-me help.” Dean started wrapping the scarf properly so Cas could duck the lower half of his face out of the chilly, winter air whenever he wanted.

There was something magnetic in Cas’ demeanor. As it circled and grew in his eyes, it filled Dean with a soft warmth that drew him a step closer. His skin burned, but on his brother’s life he couldn’t remember in that moment why he would normally never let himself get this close.

Dean could feel the puffs of Cas’ breath caressing his face, sending goosebumps across every inch of his skin. Despite this, he reached forward and finished laying and puffing the scarf up.

The apples of the angel’s cheek’s appeared pinker when Dean’s gaze slid up from the blue fabric that was still caught between his fingers. Cas’ bottom lip twitched for a second, and then he sunk his face into the scarf.

Thoughts slid back into Dean’s head. Louder than ever. The tips of his fingers clung a little tighter to the scarf. This feeling wasn’t new. Everything that had to do with Castiel, it was like a Gordian Knot. There was too much to sort and untangle. The fragile thing they had was too important to him to destroy completely. The solution was simple and staring him in the face, but he’d been teetering on that decision for a decade now.

Before he could move, a simple vibration resounded up his fingertips. And before Dean could ask what the angel had said, Cas broke the moment.

His hands slowly and shakily unhooked Dean’s grip, lowering them. The scarf slid down Cas’ face as he momentarily glanced around the parking lot. Dean quickly forgot about the brief indescribable look in the angel’s stare, when a glimpse of Cas’ teeth caught his eye.

The tension eased in Cas’ shoulders. He released Dean’s hands with a widening smile. “Let’s go. I’m not sure what would be suitable for a Christmas tree. Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, losing himself in this new moment. “We’ll have to go elsewhere and grab your truck, but I have several ideas.”

The prompt was from this list. I'm not expecting any more prompts from this one, but if there's one you really want me to try please ask! (and specify the prompt list).

[ohmygoodnessgraciouss]

Reality Check - Chapter 6

Summary: Y/N and Wanda were very close after returning in 2023.  The two bonded over the loss of their partners.  It wasn’t enough to keep Wanda grounded after she found Vision’s body though, and Wanda wants the best for her friend.  Unfortunately for Y/N, this means she’s going to be thrown into a reality she wasn’t expecting.

Notes: Thank you all for your love and support!!  I love you guys so much and your feedback makes me smile.  It’s hard to reply to everyone but I’m keeping tabs on the taglist as much as possible.  I’ve noticed a few usernames are not being tagged on this post, so I’ll be sure to contact them.  Tumblr decided not to tag them I guess lol!  

Anyway, enjoy this new chapter.  I changed things a little bit.  We’re going a little off course of what I had before, hence the reason why this is late.  The chapter I had written at first is only being stocked away for the next chapter, which means it’ll be out sooner than this one did.  I promise! 

Happy Falcon and the Winter Soldier day, everyone! 

“Well Wanda, I gotta skitty before Loki starts wondering where I’m at,” You chuckled nervously.  Watching her fix the wall was incredible.  It was unlike anything you’ve seen before.  So unusual yet so familiar. 

Wanda smiled lightly at you.  “Alright, I understand.  But please feel free to come by anytime.  Whatever you need,” She said.  You smiled back at the woman. 

“Of course!  Maybe I’ll swing by in a couple of days to see the boys!” You waved goodbye to her and opened the door. 

You took your leave, closing the front door behind you.  Vision turned to see you come outside moments later, a confused look on his face.  “Vision?  What’s wrong, buddy?  You look paler than a ghost.” 

Vision turned to look back at the fence, where Herb and Agnes once stood.  The two had left a while ago, but he seemed frozen in place.  “It’s nothing,” He smiled.  

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking back at the fence that he seemed to stare at before he looked at you.  It was cut nearly in half.  From what, you couldn’t tell. 

“Absolutely.  I suppose I’m just rather nervous about becoming a father.  It feels like it happened so quickly.” 

“Well, I’m sure it did, Vision.  You’ll be fine though.  You’re a good man and remember, Wanda’s going to be there too.  Like I said before, it’s not like you’re doing it alone.  You’ve got this whole town.”  

“That’s true.  This town seems to be quite... Supportive.” 

“Sometimes too supportive.  It feels like everyone’s connected sometimes!” You two shared a nervous laugh. 

“Oh yes, everyone here is quite connected.  Sometimes it is almost concerning.  This town is nothing like I have ever seen before.  I feel as though you can’t keep any secrets around here.” 

“Yeah, I know how you feel.” 

~

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, trying to figure out what’s going on.  The blade was pressing against his skin, close to piercing it.  His eyes scanned the man’s face, unable to determine who he was. 

“I won’t ask again.” 

“I don’t even know who you are,” Loki replied, now glaring at the man.  

Scott revealed himself to Loki, green magic engulfing his form.  He wore the same suit as he did before, but his hair was longer now, reaching down to brush his shoulders slightly.  His green eyes were sharper now, and his face was far more defined.  Loki watched as the man morphed into a mirror image of himself.  “Do I look familiar now?” He spat out, annoyed by the impostor.  

“Quite,” He said stiffly.  Loki pushed him back while “Scott” wasn’t paying that much attention.  He walked to the other side of the room, giving the two of them space between one another.  “I am Loki.  But who are you?” 

“That’s impossible,” Scott said.  “This reality’s version of me was supposed to die in 2018.” 

“2018?” Loki questioned.  “The year 2018?” 

“Yes, the year 2018,” Scott rolled his eyes.  “What other year would I mean?” 

“What year is it now then?” 

“2023.  You’ve been dead for 5 years and yet you’re here.  The T.V.A didn’t tell me about this.  Of course they wouldn’t.”

“The T.V.A?” 

Scott ignored his question.  “Now I’m stuck in the Scarlet Witch’s fake reality with another version of me.  But they told me he died.  Is it possible?” He was thinking aloud, causing Loki to grow even more confused. 

“What are you talking about?” 

Scott shook his head.  “It doesn’t matter.  I have a mission to carry out if I want to get out of there.  Plans have changed.” 

~

Ten minutes later you found yourself walking to Ellis Avenue.  It was close to the edge of town, and very few people lived there anymore.  The sun may have been shining and birds may have been chirping, but you felt like the air was icy as you got closer to the border.  The sign “Leaving Westview: We hope to see you again soon!” looked old and rundown, as if no one had touched it in decades.  An image of a family playing in the park was shown next to the lettering.  Perhaps once upon a time it was a cute sign.  Now it seemed ominous. 

A sense of dread and misery started to seep in as you continued walking closer to the end of the road.  It was like you couldn’t control your own thoughts anymore.  Or perhaps, it was the other way around.  For the first time this week you felt like you were gaining control again.  

Making your way to the border, you noticed that there was not a single person in sight.  The road continued on, making its way through the forest that was only a mile away.  The trees swayed with the wind soundlessly.  A part of you almost seemed to beg to leave the town.  

So you kept on walking. 

It felt like some sort of energy was trying desperately to pull you away from it.  You couldn’t understand what pulled you to this town, what kept trying to pull you back into it.  You hardly remember anything before Westview.  What was on the outside? 

You were abruptly stopped by a barrier.  It was glowing red, much like the other objects you saw a few days ago.  The vibrant color seemed to pulse and move as you walked closer.  It was an electrifying feeling, being this close to the magic that kept everyone trapped inside.  Some part of you begged, screamed for you to stay back.  The other part of you asked for the exact opposite.  

You touched the barrier, a shock running up your arm when you did.  You almost pulled back instantly, but something protected you from it.  You stared in amazement as blue shockwaves seemed to surround your hand.  They disappeared, fading off into the red barrier.  

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby.  No one seemed to be in sight, but you felt like you were being watched.  You turned back to the barrier, pushing your hand further in.  It hurt, but something egged you on, daring you to cross it.  

You took a step in, watching the red engulf your entire body.  You couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn’t even see anything that was going on.  You had two options: Go back into the town that you’re trapped in or see what’s on the outside.  

It seemed to last forever, but it was probably because you could hardly move while you were in it.  It felt as if you were frozen solid.  Whatever it was didn’t want you to get out.  Memories were starting to seep in though.  Memories of the distant past, and memories of what had happened only two weeks ago.  

You gained feeling back in your hand again.  You had to be close to the end if you could feel it.  In just a split second you were thrown out of the barrier.  You collapsed onto the grass, taking a deep breath.  It felt like someone splashed cold water on you.  

Lights began to blind you as you heard voices all around you.  “Put her in custody, and someone get a doctor!” You heard one say.  It was distinct, clear, loud.  Whoever it was sounded like the leader. 

You felt several people pull you up from the ground, placing you on a softer surface.  A gurney, probably.  You blinked several times, squinting to see where you were.  Someone familiar stood next to you.  It was Geraldine.  Was that her name?  

At that point it didn’t matter.  Your head was in too much pain from everything else that was going on to care.  

“You’ll be okay, Y/N.  We’re going to get you checked out,” The woman reassured you.  She smiled slightly and you tried to smile back at her. 

You started to doze off, choosing to sleep and recover from the traumatic experience you just had.  For the first time in a long time you were able to dream.  These dreams weren’t normal though.  

They were memories. 

Memories of everything before Westview. 

Scott watched Loki’s body slowly disappear.  Clearly, he was just an illusion.  Something set up by the Scarlet Witch to keep Y/N in control.  He contacted the TVA on his communicator, sending them a message as he watched the body dissolve.  

He was told that this reality was created by the Scarlet Witch and that he had to get the timeline back on track.  They never told him about Y/N being involved.  They didn’t even tell him that an illusion of himself would be in it too.  

The plan would have to change if he wanted to make sure this worked.  They didn’t even give him an idea of how to set the timeline right.  Now that he knows what’s going on, he has an idea. 

And now, he’ll make sure he gets out of here in time. 

And he’ll be sure to give the Time Variance Authority hell.  

~

Wanda smiled down at Billy, sitting next to Vision who held Tommy.  She felt something turn in her chest.  Something was wrong.  Her eyes widened, and she looked out across the room, zoning out.  

Vision noticed that she seemed distracted, trapped in her thoughts.  He reached over slightly to touch her hand, bringing her back.  She turned to him and smiled.  

“Is something wrong, my love?” He asked. 

“No, nothing at all.  Everything is just fine.” She said, looking down at Billy once more.  

She wasn’t going to concern him with the fact that she knew something was wrong. 

.

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.

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@emberfulclass @momoneymolife @high-priestesss @hailey-the-heathen @mochminnie @dpaccione @intricate-melody @lindseyrae20 @storminateacup15 @ilovemollyweasley @bookgirlunicorn @chims-kookies @austynparksandpizza @yikesdameron @littleladdty @three-eyed-snail @kymera-casterwill @justsomerandompersonintheworld @followthepastelcloud @11mb0 @carolinesbookworld @from-hel-i-with-love @grimalkynslee @boywivlove @prettysbliss @youreobsessedwithmarvel @th3gl1tt3gram3roff1c1al @luthien-t @lokilove3000 @treblebeth @weclassygirl @justfangirlingaround @drpepperobsessed @how-does-this-work @prideofnewberk @matterdontminduntildone

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - Afternoon Delight (Rated M)

Summary: When Aziraphale invites Crowley over for some 'afternoon delight', Crowley daydreams about finally making love to his angel. But there's a chance that Crowley may be misinterpreting Aziraphale's invitation. (1576 words)

Read on AO3.

"Crowley!? My boy, are you there? Are you all right? What was that frightful noise?"

"It's... it's nothing! I'm all right!" Crowley rambles as he drops to his knees and scrabbles for his phone. It slipped from his grasp after Aziraphale extended an unexpected invitation, and in response, Crowley blacked out for a few. "Could you just... ?" He knocks it with his knee, sending it careening across the marble floor like a hockey puck. With a growl and a frustrated snap of his fingers, he puts the call on speaker, then sits nearby, feeling it safer if he continues this conversation while planted firmly on his bum. "Could you repeat wot you said? So I know I've heard you right?"

Aziraphale sniffs in mild annoyance but cheerfully repeats, "I thought you might like to stop by for a little afternoon delight!"

"Yeah. That's wot I thought you said." Crowley swallows hard, his mind spinning in a dozen directions as he tries to sort out an appropriate response. Since he didn't foresee himself being in this situation today, he doesn't know where to begin. Left to its own devices, his brain lands on the least important, and the most ludicrous, reaction: how does an angel who doesn't particularly like bebop even know that reference? 

"Ungh... now?" he asks in disbelief because, well, now? After all the time they've known one another, there hasn't been a single mention of them having sex. Not a nibble. And now, all of a sudden, all at once? With no pretense, no awkward explanations, no negotiating?

An outright invite as if Aziraphale were speaking on something no more extraordinary than afternoon tea.

Not that Crowley hasn't thought about it. He has definitely thought about it, and at length. He just wasn't certain Aziraphale had, naive bastard that he is.

Well. Now he knows. 

"Yes, now," Aziraphale replies, getting huffy. 

"You want to share an afternoon delight... with me?" Crowley can sense Aziraphale growing short and becomes anxious that he may renege on his invitation, but he has to know that this is what angel means. 

"Yes! An afternoon delight with you! I know it's going on supper, but the opportunity has arisen, and I'm too excited to wait till tomorrow!"

"Are you really?" Crowley asks, warming up to the idea of driving over to Aziraphale's bookshop to satisfy his angel's spontaneous desire for sex.

"Oh yes! I thought I could wait, but the more I think about it, the more I need to get it in my mouth immediately!"

"Ngk!" Crowley's cock, twitching with interest, rockets to full attention. He's thankful he made the decision to leave his phone on the floor. The way his hands go tingly and cold, it was destined to fall again. "Okay, then. I'll come over straight away... for an afternoon delight."

"Great!" Aziraphale says, sounding immensely pleased. "Do get a wiggle on. After all the effort I put into beating it stiff, it would be a shame to see it soften."

Crowley responds with only a guttural noise after that as he chokes on his tongue.

***

Crowley drives to Aziraphale's bookshop as if God Herself is hot on his heels, threatening to hose him down with Holy Water. Normally he delights in the chaos he creates while speeding through the streets of London, weaving in and out of traffic, sending pedestrians scurrying for safety. But not today. Today, his mind is installed elsewhere.

Between Aziraphale's thighs, for one - his lips lingering on the delicate skin behind angel's knees before Crowley spreads his legs apart and...

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Slow down, for God's sake!"

"Arsehole!"

That last one, coming from a bent old lady eighty years older than Moses, breaks him momentarily out of his daydream and makes him chuckle. But, quickly, he's transported back to the magical realm of Aziraphale's corporeal form, starts to sweat at thoughts of kissing Aziraphale's plump, bitten lips, his soft moans filling the air with lusty amalgamations of Crowley's name. He's heard Aziraphale say his name hundreds of times before in as many different ways, though mainly in exasperation.

Begging would be a new, delicious addition to that collection.

Crowley parks his car out front, half-on/half-off the curb. He leaves it up to his Bentley to lock up and barrels up the steps of A. Z. Fell and Co., bursts through the double doors without contemplating the best way to make an entrance. Aziraphale opted for the direct approach with his invitation.

Crowley decides to follow suit and do the same.

And he's greeted by... nothing. Musty air and silence. But that doesn't stop him. He's there for a purpose, and with Aziraphale's express permission.

To finally make love to his angel.

"Aziraphale? I'm here!" Crowley calls, snapping his fingers to lock the doors and pull the shades. "I've arrived! Where are you?" He unbuttons his shirt, undoes the fly to his trousers, and begins to undress, searching the stacks and shelves. He sheds each article as he stumbles through, leaving them in his wake. If he weren't a demon, his dry cleaning bill would be atrocious.

One of the perks of his job.

But, honestly, he couldn't care less. He's waited for this moment for so damn long he can taste it, sweet on his tongue like candy floss. In his head, he feels Aziraphale and only Aziraphale, knows he's somewhere close by and alone. 

Waiting for him.

Crowley imagines the level of undressed Aziraphale may be as well. No bow tie and with his top button undone? That right there is enough to make Crowley’s mouth water - hints of pale, perfect skin peeking out from beneath his baby blue shirt. Or will he go further? Jacket gone, waistcoat hanging open, shirt buttons opened to part way down, sleeves rolled up and showing off his impressive forearms?

Oof.

Crowley stops walking to take that thought in, let it wash through him and feed his erection instead of disrupting it prematurely.

And what about the state of his trousers? Button unbuttoned, zip lowered, waistband shrugged to his hips, waiting for Crowley to reach out a hand and take the next step, trembling fingertips sneaking underneath the smoothest cotton fabric known to man…

“Good lord,” Crowley murmurs, stuttering to a halt one more time as he steps into a ring of light. His eyelids flutter shut as the light glows brighter, and another voice echoes his with its own utterance of, “Good lord.”

Crowley grins. He recognizes that voice.

“Aziraphale?”

“Who else were you expecting?”

Crowley opens his eyes and finds angel… slightly more dressed than Crowley had anticipated.

Aziraphale stares at Crowley wide-eyed, a flush of rose climbing up his neck, his holy aura as blinding as his cheeks. "Crowley! Why on Earth have you taken off your clothes!?"

“Uh… I don’t know?” Crowley looks Aziraphale up and down. Not only is he fully dressed, but he’s wearing an apron to boot.

So more dressed than usual.

“And you’ve tossed them all over.” Aziraphale tuts, shakes his head. “They’ll be ruined.”

Crowley is tempted to agree, gather them all up, put them on, and blow this off like one big joke. But he’s so genuinely baffled, he can’t force himself to act. "I... uh... might be confused. Why am I here again?"

"For some afternoon delight!"

Crowley nods, his head pounding from a loss of blood that’s causing other areas of his human-shaped form to throb. "And you know wot that is?"

"Of course, I do!"

"And you don't think that undressing might be in order?"

"Heavens no! Unless you're concerned about getting your clothes dirty… ” Aziraphale leans to one side and peeks over Crowley’s bare shoulder “… not that that makes much difference now. But you've always been a tidy eater."

Crowley's back teeth clench around a whine. Eat! Yes! Eat! Isn’t that what he’s here for (among other things)? "Eat wot, exactly?"

"This." Aziraphale gestures proudly to a round table in the center of the room, urging Crowley, with eager blue eyes, to investigate. Crowley shuffles over, too curious to be concerned by his nakedness. He looks down at the dessert sitting on its silver plate, surrounded by Aziraphale’s tea service, and quirks an eyebrow. 

“A cake?”

“Yes.”

"That's not wot afternoon delight means, angel."

"Of course, it does."

"How do you figure?"

"It says so right here in my cookbook." Aziraphale grabs a book from the table, its cover worn from decades of man-handling and food spills. He opens to a page marked by a tattered red ribbon and clears his throat. "Five-Layer Afternoon Delight: a strawberry and chocolate mousse confection divided by layers of pecans and meringue atop a light-as-air angel food cake slathered with sweet cream."

"That does sound scrummy," Crowley says, whimpering at the mention of angel food slathered in cream.

"Doesn't it?" Aziraphale sets the book aside so he can cut a slice for his companion. "Besides, I thought it would be the perfect prelude."

"Yeah?" Crowley snaps his clothes back on and takes a seat, reaching for his plate. Dusty and humiliated, he crosses his legs to kill his erection. He picks up his fork and prepares to tuck in, resigned to the fact that this is the only angel cake he's going to get his lips around. "Prelude to what?"

"To sex," Aziraphale says, grinning like a beast when he hears the China plate hit the floor.

[dat-town]

wish you were here

Characters: Mark Lee & you

Setting: wish dragon au (and a bit of aladdin because mark even has a tiger in their garden like jasmine did. don’t ask why, just blame the regular mv), childhood best friends to lovers (at least there’s potential?)

Genre: fluff and humour

Warnings: mentions of a sick animal and a wild animal kept as a pet in a huge garden (just like jasmine’s tiger, it’s very tamed)

Summary: A magical teapot, a dragon that wants everyone to be happy and an old friendship being revived. Oh yeah, have I told you that you have 3 wishes?

Words: 6.4k

For @restlessmaknae​ 💕

When your mother told you you got delivery to your childhood home, you certainly did not expect this: a brown box as big as a small watermelon with your old Canadian address and MARK LEE scrabbled next to your name as another recipient but no sender. Not to mention, the first stamp on the thing was dating back to the early 2010s. Where the hell was this package for 10 years? And what would you and your old neighbour slash best friend have gotten together?

Okay, first things first:

You and this clumsy, kind of cute kid, Mark had been quite tight while growing up. You were born in the same year, only a month apart, and his family lived in the house next to yours in the suburbs of Vancouver, so it was kind of natural. You two might have been against the world kind of comrades, playing hide and seek when you were six and wondering about whether time travelling was possible through black holes at twelve. But no matter how close you used to be, you fell out of touch when Mark's family moved to the other end of the world, back to Korea, their roots when you were fourteen. You slowly forgot about him, and started university in the city, moving away from home, so nothing really reminded you of him ⎼ and your stupid, big fat crush on him that you had no courage to tell him about in middle school ⎼, nothing until this box.

You put the delivered package on your kitchen table while you make some dinner for yourself out of what you have gotten during grocery shopping earlier just before you picked up the mysterious stuff at the post office. You eye it suspiciously over your pasta, really not wrapping your mind about what it could be but instead of annoying yourself with this pointless curiosity, you put your fork down and stand up to open it. It’s a struggle at first, the box being secured with multiple adhesive tapes over the years but when you finally get rid of all that and can look inside of it, an intense feeling rushes through you… immerse disappointment.

“A teapot? For real? What were we thinking?” you furrow your brows taking the small, green and pretty old teapot into your hands. It looks like a piece of a traditional Asian set with its jade colour and dragon pattern. It couldn’t have been in a much better shape 10 years ago either seeing how wayworn it is but still, you expected something more… exciting? Something funny that might or might not give you an excuse to look up Mark Lee on the internet and message him for the sake of old times. But how lame it would be to befriend him on Facebook only to tell him that you got delivered a teapot under both your names. Hah, you would rather not embarrass yourself like that.

You shoot one last glance at the teapot before leaving it on your counter and going back to your food, you successfully forget about the whole ordeal. You carry your life on with only one small difference: Mark Lee back on your mind after long, long years.

It was just a small crush, you tell yourself, sighing as you look into the mirror, absentmindedly wondering how he’s doing. Does he think of you sometimes as well? Did he go to music college like he has always wanted? Is he happy? You wish he was even if he’s half a world away and with that thought you think it’s time to go to sleep despite the upcoming weekend days. You don’t want to mess up your sleep schedule over some boy but as soon as you pull the blanket over your chest and close your eyes, something explodes in your kitchen.

You jump out of bed faster than lightning, in slight panic over the fact that your neighbours will hate you for bothering them late at night and your landlord would kill you if you managed to blow up your microwave. But the sight that welcomes you is like no other that you imagined. The whole room is covered in thick pink glittery smoke. Like your worst Barbie nightmare.

“What the⎼” you cough, waving your hands to clear the air and once it dissolves into nothingness with its weirdly cotton candy smell, there’s a boy in the middle of it all, sitting cross legged on your kitchen counter so casually as if he owned the place. His pink-ish purple hair hangs into his eyes and he seems to find your coffee machine strangely interesting. You grab the first thing you can ⎼ a blender ⎼ and hold it up in defensive before yelling at the boy: “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

The stranger’s mouth pulls up in a charming smile, his eyes sparkle as he turns his attention to you, hopping off the counter. He’s all thin and long limbs, so you hate how you hate to look up at him as he walks towards you before bowing ceremoniously.

“Hello, sorry for the sudden appearance, I just couldn’t wait any longer! I’ve been stuck in that teapot waaay too long. I didn’t mean to be rude or anything. My name is Taeyong, I’m a wish dragon and you’re my new owner,” he smiles and what he says makes absolutely no sense.

“A wish dragon?” you mumble in shock, looking around to see if this is just another prank of Johnny. You wouldn’t be surprised to see him jump out from under one of the cupboards. Or maybe you just fell asleep and you’re dreaming. Yeah, that seems like a realistic scenario.

“Ah, yes! I know I don’t look like it but modern times require modern solutions. Most people freak out because of my dragon form, so human it is,” the boy who seems only a few years older than you grins as he’s chatting and you have to give it to him, he takes this role pretty seriously. “You have three wishes as my owner. You can ask for anything as long as it’s not about death or love.”

So you got yourself someone who thinks he’s basically a genie? Oh gosh, is he that drunk?

“Aha, very funny. I’m too tired for this prank, so I would appreciate it if you left the same way you came...” you point towards your window because there’s no way he came through the door. Putting down your blender because the guy looks pretty harmless despite his crazy blabbering, you move to go back to your bedroom.

“No, no, no, I can’t do that,” the boy, Taeyong as he introduced himself, appears in front of you within a second and grabs your shoulder as if he could shake some sense into you. He looks pretty desperate. “I can only get a new owner if I fulfill all wishes of yours. It was super stuffy in that box the last decade, you know.”

At that excuse you let out a laugh.

“You don’t even fit it the⎼”

“You were saying?” Taeyong is suddenly nowhere near ahead of you but instead a small creature, supposedly a dragon, in the size of your palm flies in front of your eye level. “It’s magic!”

Okay, now that sight makes you feel like it’s you who is drunk. Or worse.

“Am I dead?” you have to ask in a small, uncertain voice, trying to think back what could have happened. Maybe that explosion literally blew your apartment up? But it hurts when you pinch your arm and turning back into his human form, Taeyong wants to prove the very same thing. Not the hurting but the not dead part, obviously.

“No, you’re very much alive and a happy owner of a wish dragon. Not permanently, of course, but still,” he tells you as he drags you onto your couch in the living room. As if sitting down could help processing all this.

So you have a wish dragon in your home, a magical creature that can casually switch between its dragon and human form and he says you should wish for three things, so he could leave and you could go back to your old, boring life without magic and things that scare you to death at 11PM.

“Can I ask… why? Why me? I’m not really owner-material,” you whisper because heck yeah, you even managed to kill your cactus before. Taeyong purses his lips as he sits down, a hand at his chin.

“Well, it’s unusual indeed to have a peasant girl, no offence, as my owner but as far as I know, you and your friend asked for a sign that magic was real.”

Oh, you remember that, being so obsessed with shooting stars and other stuff like that, you two used Mark’s brother’s computer to browse the internet, trying to find evidence about all that. You were kids wanting to believe in a world beyond the one you knew. But...

“That was like 10 years ago,” you furrow your eyebrows, not getting the timing.

“Well, sorry, you weren’t put on the top of the Heaven wish list and the shipping from Shanghai to Vancouver isn’t the fastest either,” Taeyong shrugs as if it was supposed to be natural. As if that was the most unbelievable thing. Well, delivery services are sometimes a pain in the ass, that’s true but getting a wish delivered by Heaven was something you would have never thought of and it all drains down on you. Strangest realisation of your life.

“So… it’s all real,” you whisper ahead of yourself: magic, dragons and all that. You could basically see your old best friend’s I told you so smile and let out a soft chuckle. “I wish Mark could meet with you, too.”

At that the guy ahead of you claps his hands and rubs them together, creating the same purple smoke from before. You look at him alarmed.

“Your wish, my command,” Taeyong grins and lifts his hands and before you could make a sound of protest because gosh, you didn’t mean it literally, you feel the ground move under your feet and you’re falling, into the darkness but despite shutting your eyes automatically, fearing the impact of the crash, nothing comes. Only the smell of soy sauce in the air and warm sunshine on your skin… Wait, what?

Your eyelids fly open and you notice in shock that you’re not in your flat anymore, ready to sleep. Instead, you stand in the middle of a goddamn street somewhere in Korea based on the signs still in your PJ shorts and tee. Oh my gosh! You hide in an alley right away and yank the seemingly proud Taeyong with you.

“I didn’t tell you that I meant right now! I can’t meet Mark in my PJs and I need my phone and wallet to function anyways. Not to mention, I don’t speak Korean at all...” you ramble panicking, the realisation that you’re indeed on the other side of the Earth due to some magic is yet to register. But the awkwardness from the stares you have just gotten has already turned you bashful.

Listening to you, the wish dragon seems sheepish and slightly embarrassed as he scratched his nape, his colourful hair falling into his cast down eyes.

“Oh… sorry. I got so excited over the wish that I didn’t think about it! It’s been a while since I did teleport magic but hey, I still have it in me. Anyways, sorry. Phone and wallet, you said? Here you go,” he pulls out something from his pants which magically seems to be indeed your belongings. That definitely makes things earlier.

“Uhm, thanks. Where are we exactly?”

“Ah, well you mentioned your friend Mark Lee, so we’re here. Well, one bell away because I did remember that it’s rude to intrude other’s houses without permission first,” oh now, you know, you snicker internally and gulp because hell, even if you wanted to see Mark, you wouldn’t have thought that the meeting would come so soon. You didn’t have enough time to prepare yourself mentally.

“So… you’re telling me that this… is where Mark lives?” you point at the impressive apartment complex on the corner of the street but Taeyong shakes his head.

“Nope, This is where your Mark lives,” he says and before you could object about the ‘your’ part, the dragon points at the other side of the road at a luxurious house with a huge garden, basically a palace. Seeing the beautiful fountain, the modern and yet traditional Korean style building beyond the fences makes your jaw drop.

“Hahaha, alright for a magic dragon you must have made a mistake. There’s no way the Mark Lee I know lives here,” you look back at Taeyong finding it funny that the kid who used to wore his favourite tees until his mother basically threw them out would live at such a place.

“Mark Lee, korean name Minhyung, supposed to be 22 years old internationally soon. Bad eyesight, contagious laugh, clumsy but has surprisingly good reflexes, gets embarrassed easily. Sound familiar?” Taeyong crooks a brow at you as he reads the information off from a parchment he just took out of his pants. Everything he listed is just so Mark that you’re left in disbelief.

“Uuh… that sounds about right.”

“His father hit it big in 2016 with a tech company, their net worth has too many zeros to count,” Taeyong explains, seeing how surprised you were over the fact that he lived a lavish life like this. Not that he doesn’t deserve it! Mark is such a sweetheart, so of course, you would only want the best for him but as if half the world wasn’t enough, now you have another huge gap between you.

“Gosh, I really can’t believe this. How am I supposed to just ring the bell and say hello after so much time?” you sighed with your head in your hands. “Argh, I need to buy some clothes and change.”

Taeyong approves the idea based on how enthusiastically he hollers, you wonder why nobody on the street seems to pay no attention to him. Maybe only you see him, just more reason for you to be crazy.

“Good idea because we’re having dinner with Mark!”

“What?” you look up in shock, not following through. Taeyong grins down at you, flashing a giddy smile and with a twirl he’s changed from his baggy, casual clothes to something more chic but still laidback.

“Your wish was him meeting me, so I arranged everything. I can't meet him without you and the teapot there, you know,” he explains as if it was supposed to be obvious. You aren't ready yet though.

“You just want to eat all the fancy delicious food he has,” you squint at him suspiciously and the dragon stays silent, so you must be right. He laughs nervously.

“Maybe, but can you blame me? I haven’t had a feast since a literal decade!” he hollers and somehow you really cannot find it in yourself to be angry at him. You are in Seoul for god's sake after all and magic is real, you can put up with the inconvenience of buying clothes and making yourself look decent before dumping all this surprise on Mark.

An hour later you stand in front of the gates of the Lee mansion and nervously you wipe your sweating hands into your dress. You can totally do this, you just say hi to an old friend, it's not like you're afraid he wouldn't remember you, hah, of course not–

"Y/N!" 

You whip your head at the call of your name to the source of that all too familiar voice. Sure it's deeper than you remember but there's no mistake in whose it is. Plus, who else would call your name in South Korea of all places.

"Mark, hey!" you wave the boy who just got out of one of the fanciest cars you've ever seen in your life. And yet, despite the Prada suit and expensive shoes, styled hair and Swiss watch on wrist, Mark Lee still has that goofy little smile and the doe eyes that used to make you weak in the knees. Hah, who are you kidding? They still do.

"Oh my god, dude, you… you got pretty," Mark jogs up to you and having no filter like always he blabbers immediately only to stutter as his ears turn red. It was so him talking before thinking, so you didn’t really mean to dwell on his words. Although you felt your cheeks dusted with pink soon enough. "I mean, it's really good to see you! I was so surprised to see your name in my calendar for today's dinner! You should have told me you were coming to Korea, I would have picked you up at the airport."

His calendar? Ah, of course, he must have been busy and all that. You wouldn’t have been surprised to see an assistant run after him at this point, so you wonder how your wish dragon magically put you onto his list of important people to meet. Gosh, it was so weird.

"Ah, I have a funny story about that…" you chuckled to yourself but before you could have get out anything, even a please, can we go to a more private place? Mark’s eyes zero on the guy next to you and his eyes grow comically wide.

"And uhm, who is your friend?" he points at Taeyong who waves him in exchange with a kilowatt smile. He looks back at you with his mouth agapé. "Oh my god, you came to invite me to your wedding?"

He says oh my god way too many times for an eloquent rich kid, he really is the Mark Lee you knew.

"No, never! I mean, of course, I would invite you but Taeyong and I– I literally met him on my way here," you explain hastily cursing yourself for the silly lie. You came to tell him the news not to try to make it believable. 

“I heard there’s food,” the wish dragon pipes in very helpful and you shoot him a disapproving glance he doesn’t notice. Luckily, Mark doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course, dinner! Come on in, let’s get you two settled,” he grins albeit a bit awkwardly as he leads you through the gate after opening it with his card.

On the way through the very, very, very big garden, he’s chattering about how he misses the Vancouver weather, especially on humid, hot days like this and talks about how he thinks the fountain in their yard is a bit too much but his mom loved it and then before you know it, you sit by a huge dining table with fine food in front of you. Suddenly you can’t decide whether you're grateful for Taeyong’s shameless presence – he digs into the jjigae right away – because at least the situation isn’t awkward because of your silence or you’re annoyed by it because you must seem like a weirdo because of him. That’s why you decide to rip off the bandage and tell Mark as soon as the last maid has disappeared too.

“Okay, so actually I came here because I have a surprise,” you speak up, probably too serious because the boy almost chokes on his food due to how fast he turns his head towards you.

“More surprise?” he coughs out and you offer him a glass of water which he takes with a smile.

“You literally won’t believe this one!” you assure him and wait until he gulps down the drink. Only then you point to Taeyong and tell him that your childhood wish has come true. 

Mark almost falls off his chair this time.

Not after you tell him that though. He laughs at that with that wheezing laugh of his as if you told the joke of the century then pats you on the shoulder murmuring That was a good one, bro and turning back to his food. But then you look at the magic dragon pointedly and Taeyong puts down his chopsticks with an exaggerated sign. Then he flexes his magic: turning into his dragon form among additional sparkles and Mark suddenly looks like he’s about to faint. He reaches out to tap on your shoulder while not taking his eyes off the wish dragon.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers and honestly, you totally get his reaction while Taeyong mumbles something about ‘people these days not believing in dragons’ as he shows off all the things he could do: gift riches, make one stronger than they are, giving skills of whatever one wants. He starts rambling about how this one Chinese emperor became wealthy thanks to this, how that one actor in martial arts and all this before changing back to his human form and he continues eating his pasta like nothing ever happened.

“I can do this all day,” he shrugs as if he didn’t just perform the coolest magic tricks.

“This… this is the best thing ever!” Mark exclaims with those sparkles in his eyes you missed so much. He was always so excited about new things and it automatically makes you smile how he bombards Taeyong with million questions like: ‘So you are the wish dragon that grants wishes?’ or asking him about his scales, his unique color, how it feels to live in such a small teapot, how old he is and the dragon glows under all the attention. Can’t blame him but Mark has always been so curious about the world, it’s endearing.

“So your first wish was to meet me?” he turns to you after long minutes of interrogating Taeyong and suddenly, under the spotlight you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can feel yourself blushing because you didn’t necessarily mean to wish for that but it’s not like you’re regretting it, it’s just… you don’t want him to misunderstand.

“I thought you should meet him, too, after all the package was delivered for the two of us,” you look down, trying to sound nonchalant while picking your food, avoiding Mark’s gaze. No matter how open armed he welcomed you, you still aren’t convinced that it’s okay to be here because the more time you spend with him, the more you would like to stay a part of his life. “It’s just… I wasn’t really sure we could ever meet again. We didn’t keep contact after you left.”

With dropped shoulders, you try not to sound too downhearted because of what happened because you know all too well, it wasn’t his fault, it was a family decision and look at him, it did good for him! He seems happy, they live in a practically mansion but most importantly, he didn’t seem to change with the wealth. He might wear expensive clothes but under it all he’s still the boy with the most loveable smile.

“I… I was thinking about you a lot, I just thought you forgot about me,” Mark admits with a sheepish smile, tucking his hair behind his ear shyly. He really still is the same and it’s playing silly little games with your heart. If this was a cheesy Disney movie, a slow bgm would start to play as you look into each other but your moment is broken when Taeyong accidentally kicks into his chair as he stands up. At first he looks alarmed but then giggles.

“I will just… go. Don’t mind me,” he disappears like smoke with a wink, leaving you two alone at which Mark lets out a woah. You chuckle at his cute reaction, heart doing somersaults in your chest.

You thought it would be awkward, just the two of you alone after long years but Mark has this thing that he makes people feel comfortable around him, so it’s actually quite nice. You catch up on everything and anything that comes to your mind: old neighbours, studies, friends, what are you doing now and what would you like to do, too.

After finishing the delicious dinner, Mark offers a home tour which you would never refuse and you jaw drops at the huge crystal chandelier in their living room as well as their swimming pool but your favourite place in the whole mansion is Mark’s room because it’s just so him. You can’t describe it well but the moment you step inside, it feels like home. It’s cozy to the point it makes you want to cuddle a pillow. It has colours of pastels, a synthesizer here, a guitar there, posters of singers framed on his wall and vinyl records hanging down. His window has a view of sunset and Namsan above their green garden and although you haven’t been in Seoul before, you’re pretty sure it’s your favourite place in the whole damn city, too.

“Wait, there’s someone I would like you to meet,” Mark suddenly exclaims while you’re looking through his pictures and he pulls you out of his room, out of the house, into the garden: You giggle all the way as he’s being so secretive about it but then your steps halt unexpectedly and the hand you have in Mark’s yanks him back.

“Mark… why is there a tiger in your garden in the middle of Seoul?” you ask as quietly and as immobile as you can. You don’t want to attract the sleeping animal’s attention to yourself. But to your biggest surprise, the boy just laughs, his thumb caressing your skin soothingly.

“She’s Jasmine and she won’t hurt you,” he reassures you but needless to say, you’re not too calm and you’re pulled close to the wild animal that lifts its huge head towards you lazily. “She was abandoned by her mother as a cub and she was outcast in the zoo because she’s a bit sick, so she has always been weaker than her siblings. Dad made a donation and we have raised her since she was young.”

You hiss when Mark reaches out without fear but the tiger basically purrs as he strokes down his fur at the neck. You watch in awe as this big wild animal becomes a soft cat under the hands of Mark Lee. When the boy encourages you to pat her too, you hesitate but he promises you that it’s gonna be alright and you take a leap of faith. 

“What’s her sickness?” you wonder aloud as your fingers get lost in the soft fur of the tiger. You hope she’s not in a lot of pain.

“It’s an immune system thing, not sure what exactly but she wouldn’t have survived this long in the wild,” the boy tells you and his mouth curls up in a smile when Jasmine licks your hand. It seems like you’re tiger-approved. You look into its warm brown eyes and your heart churns at the thought of her condition.

Mark tells you stories of Jasmine, about that one time she crashed his birthday cake or how much she likes to swim with him in their pool during summer and gosh, you could listen to him go on and on forever. You’re only reminded of the reality, that all this is just a possible one-time thing, a weekend getaway with magic when Taeyong shows up in swimwear, ready to crash in said pool.

“I guess he might have been bored in that teapot,” Mark laughs, not minding at all. He even offers you to join but you have a better idea.

“Taeyong, I have my second wish!” you call out for the wish dragon who’s suddenly much more excited about that than the water. He’s beside you in a moment, beaming and curious. You glance at Mark with a soft smile before looking at your personal genie confidently.

“I wish Jasmine would be healthy,” you whisper, playing with the tiger’s furry ears which she seems to enjoy. You were a little bit afraid the dragon would say it’s not possible, that he can’t cure sickness but to your relief, he just grins.

“Your wish, my command,” he nods and puts a hand over the animal. Nothing but a smoke of purple signals the magic being done but you believe in it and so does Mark by the looks of it. He reaches out for your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“Thank you,” he smiles and you smile back. He used to be your best friend after all, it’s the least you can do for him.

Mark convinces you to stay the weekend and there’s no way you could tell no to him, not when he clears his schedule just for you. He never complains about how busy he must be working for his father’s business while being a music major at a local university. All he ever talks about is the places he wishes to show you and he takes you around Seoul as if he was your certificated tour guide. It’s lovely how enthusiastic he is about it while what really matters to you is the time you spend together. He makes sure you two take a million photos to remember by, Taeyong posing on half of them since he joins you on your little trips and sometimes it’s just the two of you watching the wish dragon being genuinely in awe by modern technology, 10 years is a long time after all.

On the last day before you have to go back to Vancouver (thanks to Taeyong’s kind offer to take you the same way you came back since he misunderstood you, you don’t have to sit through a 10+ hours flight and you have more time), Mark not only tries to make you breakfast despite having an in-house chef (his eggs are ugly as heck but you appreciate his efforts and can’t help but coo at his dreamy smile under that grey hoodie when you tell him it tastes yummy) but he also introduces you to his friends in Korea. Of course, they tease you (mostly Mark) about where he has been hiding you but it’s all chill and fun you’re not quite ready to say goodbye. But you should go because the more you stay, the more you don’t want to leave. You’re lucky enough for this chance to reunite with Mark but all good things end eventually.

“Let’s not disappear from each other’s life again, okay?” the boy grins at you as you’re ready to go, Taeyong already working on his magic.

“Yeah, let’s not,” you agree easily, looking forward to your video chatting and constant texting even if it’s from the two opposite ends of the Earth with a terrible time zone difference.

You glance at the wish dragon who’s drumming with his fingers while pursing his lips as if he was waiting for something and you let out a huff before working up the courage to actually do something about these feelings inside of you. You might have regretted not confessing in middle school, you have spent years wondering about the what ifs, so you don’t want to make the same mistake twice but still, you want to give Mark a chance to ignore it all if he wants to. So you step forward and wrap your hands around him as you hug him close. It’s obvious that your action takes him aback, he suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands and his body tenses under you but it all melts as you say those words that have been threatening to fall from your lips all this time:

“I have missed you.” you confess, honest and based on the hitch in his breathing, Mark must be surprised. You can’t blame him though, you just wanted him to know. You step back with a weary smile, his big Bambi eyes on you but before he could say anything you nod at Taeyong and you feel yourself falling, purple fog pulling you in. A few moments later you’re back in Vancouver, in your apartment, without him.

The first few days pass in a blurr, you can still barely believe what just happened. Your weekend with Mark feels like a too good dream but Mark kept his side of promise and texted you almost immediately as you left. He sends you selfies, songs that remind him of you and you talk about your days like you never did before. Still, it feels like you’re dancing around certain topics which are basically the elephant in the room and maybe that’s why Taeyong tries to cheer you up in his own way. Though, he soon realizes that you not being happy isn’t the problem, you are happy, you just… miss Mark more than you ever did.

“Enough of moping, you still have a wish left!” Taeyong exclaims, throwing himself onto your bed. “Come on, close your eyes, imagine what you want the most in the world and make a wish!" he singsongs. However, before you could even just indulge him, your phone pings with a new notification.

fullsun00 tagged you in their post!

You click on it right away, wondering what Mark’s friend Donghyuck is doing online at 1AM. The uploaded post turns out to be a photo of you and Mark when you all hang out near Han river. You were too busy at the time laughing at how the boy almost lost his whole scoop of ice cream before he could have had a single bite to notice his smile while looking at you. Based on his caption Donghyuck apparently wasn’t.

fullsun00: just old friends, they say. friends my ass @buttercupyn @onyourm__ark

You click your tongue wondering what Mark thinks of the callout but you press like on the post anyways. You put your phone aside before you could see how his other friends join the teasing in the comment section.

“Actually, I do have my third wish,” you speak up as you turn to Taeyong before he could make a remark on your tinted cheeks.

You’ve been thinking a lot about it during the past days. You could wish for anything but you’re at a point of your life where no riches or fame would make you happier because you’re happy enough just the way it is. It might not be perfect but you don’t want to be selfish and you want to make decisions you won’t regret: like catching up with Mark, curing his tiger and bringing happiness into the life of somebody who only ever served other people in his life.

“Ooh, what is it?” Taeyong claps, giddy as if he was waiting for this to happen. He probably did.

“I wish you would go on a vacation and enjoy life,” you tell him but unlike his usual reaction, this time the dragon’s smile fades and he blinks at you, confused.

“You could ask for anything in the world and that’s what you want? Are you sure?” he furrows his brows, not quite believing your words but you just smile, knowingly.

“Yes, Taeyong, I’m sure.”

“Your wish, my command,” he bows with his hands put together and with a twirl suddenly he’s in a Hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, looking as ready for a holiday as one can be. You chuckle and tell him to just go, you’ll be fine.

You’re fine, you really are. Life goes on, you study and work, you laugh with your friends, you video call with Mark regularly and his friends are regulars on your social media, too. It’s just sometimes the feeling of missing something hits you harder than other days. Especially when you’re looking through the pictures you have from your Seoul weekend.

“I wish you were here,” you whisper ahead of you at one particularly good photo of Mark and the sunset, smiling at you behind the camera. You miss his smile, the cute wrinkles around his eyes when he crunches his nose, the sound of his laughter, his hand on your wrist… you miss him.

Ding-dong.

You stand up startled at the sound of your flat’s bell, running to the door to open it even though you have no idea who it could be so early on a Saturday morning. Not having a better idea, you expect it to be either a neighbour of your landlord but on the other side of your doorstep stands a boy who you thought was a continent away. He’s dressed semi-casually this time, his shirt tucked in his jeans, hair lightly falling onto his forehead and a nervous smile on his thin lips.

“Mark! But I⎼ I don’t even have more wishes,” you blink, taken aback, looking around to look for Taeyong in case he came back. But your behaviour just manages to confuse Mark instead.

“What?”

“I just wished you were here,” you blurt out without thinking, your words only processing later in your brain and it’s then when heat creeps onto your cheeks. Mark tries to but can’t really hide his growing smile at that.

“Really? I’m glad then. I just took my new private plane on a test drive,” he says bashfully, a silly excuse for real.

“All the way to Vancouver?” you tease, watching Mark fumble with the hem of his shirt. Your heart beats overtime just because of the fact that he’s there. 

“Well, what can I say? I did miss the weather here,” he plays along with a shrug but he’s more serious when he looks deep into your eye and adds: “And you left without letting me answer.”

Oh yes, you did. You were kind of afraid of his reaction but seeing how he was ready to travel across the world just to see you, maybe there’s no reason for you to be so afraid. It feels like deja vu but a reversed one in a way as Mark gently pulls you into a hug, his lips grazing your hair with a whisper that makes your heart skip a beat: “I have missed you too.”

You really wouldn’t wish for anything more.