#i need to decide where to put some of these

[wosospacegirl]

Nice try - Alexia Putellas

Summary: Alexia thinks buying Y/N clothes is a love language.

Word count: 1.9k

..

Y/n was on a mission.

A quiet, stealthy, slightly ridiculous mission that involved tiptoeing out of their house in a hoodie three sizes too big–Alexia’s, obviously–wearing the one pair of jeans she had left, which was now very much ripped across the knee and suspiciously breezy in the back.

She couldn’t let Alexia see her like this. 

If Alexia so much as sensed that Y/n needed new clothes, she would materialise out of thin air with a platinum credit card and the entire spring collection of three different Spanish designers. 

She had done it before. Alba had mentioned once that she liked a certain purse, and boom: three purses, delivered, and a casual “I thought this one looked better on you” from Alexia like she hadn’t just dropped €2,000 for fun.

So no. Y/n was not about to become the next victim.

She waited until Alexia left for training, counted five extra minutes–just in case she forgot her water bottle and came back, because that had happened before, too–, and then bolted.

Half an hour later, she was crouched behind a rack of trousers in a little boutique downtown, trying to decide between two identical pairs of black pants. Y/n could only afford one, and god forbid she buy two- otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to treat herself at the super overpriced coffee shop near her university."

She pulled out her phone to check her bank balance. She looked at the number and sighed. Maybe she could give some tutoring? She could make some extra money off of that.

Just as she was about to put her phone away, a text appeared.

Alexia: Where are you?

Y/n blinked. Hesitated.

Y/n: uni

Alexia: You don’t have any classes on Wednesdays.

Y/n: I do

That was weak. She knew it. Alexia definitely knew it.

Alexia: You left your location on, amor.

Y/n froze, eyes wide. Her thumb hovered uselessly above her screen. God, she was so bad at lying. She needed to delete Life360 or whatever tracker Alexia had installed under the guise of “safety.”

Then another text:

Alexia: I love buying things. Why didn’t you wait for me? I wanted to go too.

“Shit,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder like Alexia might already be walking in, designer sunglasses and euro bills in hand.

..

Y/n stood in the fitting room, staring at the two pairs of pants and two shirts draped over her arm like they weighed a thousand kilos. 

It felt indulgent. Excessive. Reckless, even. 

She’d been holding out for months–mending ripped seams, rotating the same three outfits, saying it was trying to create a minimalist approach to life–but now her last decent pair of pants had betrayed her with a dramatic rip, and here she was. 

Four items. Four. Her chest tightened like she had just maxed out a credit card. It didn’t matter that they were basics or on sale…Just the idea of buying more than one thing made her skin crawl with guilt. 

Alexia would’ve walked in and cleared a whole rack without blinking, but Y/n wasn’t like that. She could already hear her own voice in her head: 

This is too much. You don’t need all this. Put one back. Put two back. Hell, put all of it back and make peace with your tragic wardrobe.

Still locked in that mental spiral, Y/n approached the register like she was walking into a courtroom, bracing for judgment. The cashier scanned the tags with a chirpy rhythm that made her stomach twist, and then, just as she reached for her card, he smiled brightly.

“Looks like you’re all set. Mrs. Putellas already paid for everything.”

Y/n stared at him like he’d just slapped her.

“Excuse me?” she asked, blinking slowly.

The man at the counter, mid-30s, smiley, clearly unaware of the emotional warfare he had just triggered, tilted his head. 

“Mrs. Putellas has already paid.” He said louder, as if Yn didn’t hear him the first time.  “Isn’t that sweet?”

Y/n’s right eye twitched.

“She what?” she asked, her voice flat, her soul leaving her body.

He grinned, still clearly thinking this was a romantic surprise moment.

“She paid remotely. It happens all the time- oh, and she left a note! Said to tell you ‘nice try, amor.’”

Y/n’s mouth dropped open.

“I...” she muttered, absolutely seething. “Fuck Alexia.”

“Would you like me to pack it as a gift?” he offered weakly, now aware he may have stepped into a silent couple war.

Y/n took a deep, cleansing breath. Then she smiled, the type of smile that would have made Alexia very nervous had she been present.

“No,” Y/n said sweetly. “But do you sell running shoes? Mrs. Putellas gonna need them.”

..

Y/n didn’t slam the front door, but only because she knew Alexia had expensive taste in hinges.

Storming into the living room with her shopping bags like they were the physical manifestation of betrayal, she found Alexia exactly where she expected her to be: lounged on the sofa, one leg tucked under her, hair in a clip, and eyes glued to the TV where a replay of Barça’s last match played in glorious 4K.

Alexia barely glanced away from the screen as Y/n stepped in front of it, blocking the entire view. 

Her response? A contented little sigh and the casual press of a warm hand to Y/n’s waist.

“Hola, amor,” she murmured, gently leaning over and kissing Y/n’s belly over her shirt. “Can you just take one tiny step to the side so I can see Patri’s goal again? It was so clean–”

“No,” Y/n said, not moving an inch. “Alexia. What the hell?”

Alexia blinked up at her, all wide-eyed and falsely innocent. “What?”

Y/n lifted a shopping bag and shook it gently. “How many times have I asked you not to buy me things?”

“I didn’t buy you anything,” Alexia replied, with the slow, smug calm of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. “I just paid for them. It’s different.”

Y/n gaped. “It’s not different!”

“It is in my heart.” Alexia gave her a cheeky smile and tugged gently at her waist to try and coax her aside. “Also, you picked them yourself. So technically, I just… assisted.”

“You hacked the store’s payment system.”

“I used Apple Pay.”

“Same thing,” Y/n muttered, flopping dramatically onto the sofa beside her, pout on her face.

Alexia leaned in, voice low and teasing. “You really think pouting is going to stop me?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re welcome, amor”

Y/n buried her face in a throw pillow to muffle the sound, leaving her body.

The game carried on, with Y/n begrudgingly sinking into the sofa next to Alexia.

Every now and then, Alexia’s eyes would flicker over to Y/n, a smug little grin tugging at her lips, especially when she could feel the weight of Y/n’s tension beside her. 

But for the most part, they watched the game in comfortable silence–well, as comfortable as it could be with Y/n trying not to think about how Alexia had yet again spent her money on her.

As the final whistle blew and the game wrapped up, Y/n sighed deeply, finally leaning back into the sofa. 

She didn’t look at Alexia, didn’t even glance at her. The silence was only broken when Alexia’s grin widened.

“Amor,” Alexia whispered, urging Y/n to sit on her lap, which she did. 

Alexia’s hand naturally found its place at Y/n’s waist, then slowly moved up to her ribs, her thumb gently brushing over the soft fabric of Y/n’s shirt before it lingered on her breast.

Y/n gently took Alexia’s hand and placed it on her own lap, giving her a tired look. “No.”

Alexia’s grin faltered, her hand staying still on Y/n’s lap as she tilted her head in confusion. 

“No? Por que?”

Y/n sighed, shifting to face her, a soft but serious look in her eyes. 

“I don’t like it when you buy me things. I don’t want you throwing money at me like that. I don’t want you to do that, Alexia.”

Alexia’s eyes softened, brows knitting together as she reached out again, this time brushing a lock of hair from Y/n’s face. 

“Amor, I don’t… I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I just love you, and I want you to be comfortable. To have things you like. To have what you deserve.”

Y/n looked at her, her chest tightening, feeling the warmth of Alexia’s hand on her face.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep doing this for me. I don’t need it. I just want you.”

Alexia leaned forward and kissed her–just a soft, grounding peck on the lips. Nothing flashy. Just presence.

“I hear you,” Alexia murmured as she pulled back slightly, eyes scanning Y/n’s face. “I will ease up on it”

“Ease up?”

“Yes,” Alexia nodded, ever-so-slightly proud. “I will not buy as many things.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Good.”

There was a beat of silence.

“But what if…” Alexia started, tone far too casual, “We settle on an amount of money?”

Y/n stared at her. “What?”

Alexia’s fingers danced lightly against Y/n’s side, like that might distract her. “Like, I’m allowed to spend up to a certain amount on you. Weekly.”

“…Are you giving yourself an allowance to spoil me?”

“Sí,” Alexia replied with a completely straight face.

Y/n groaned. “Alexia. That is not how allowances work.”

“It is now,” Alexia said brightly. “Like a budget. Very responsible.”

Y/n slumped forward and buried her face in her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Alexia! How can you be so stubborn!”

“Not stubborn, just full of love,” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s temple.

Y/n didn’t move. “What’s the allowance, then?”

“€1000.”

Y/n pulled back, eyes wide. “That’s a weekly allowance?!”

Alexia shrugged, totally unfazed. “It used to be unlimited.”

Y/n stared at her in exhausted silence.

“Would you like to negotiate?” Alexia offered sweetly.

“I’d like to remove myself from this financial arrangement.”

“You can’t, mi amor. I used my allowance to buy exclusive rights.”

“Alexia.”

Alexia grinned. “I like spoiling you. Not my fault.”

“It’s totally your fault,” Y/n said deadpanned.

“You’re like…my spoiled puppy,” Alexia teased, gently cupping Y/n’s jaw.

“No. No puppies, no allowances, no—stop looking at me like that.” Y/n pointed an accusatory finger as Alexia batted her lashes and tilted her head. 

“This is serious.” Y/n insisted. “You’re literally bribing me with clothes.”

“I’m investing in your happiness,” Alexia corrected smoothly.

Y/n squinted at her, voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to make you regret this.”

Alexia just smiled. “You’re so pretty when you’re mad, bebé.”

“You will regret this,” Y/n muttered as she stood, snatching one of the shopping bags. “Every time you see me wearing these, I want you to remember I almost bought them myself.”

Alexia watched her go, the proudest smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n turned back just long enough to glare. “And no sending me shoes to match!”

“I already pressed 'order,'” Alexia called sweetly.

Y/n’s groan could be heard from three rooms away.

Alexia just chuckled to herself, collapsing back onto the sofa.

“Worth every euro.”

[sarunohadaki]

A Tiktok video of jamesismiling.

Transcript: Message from other trans girls that are like, “Hey I love what you’re saying but I just wish you would put in some effort and like put on some makeup so you don’t make the rest of us look bad” And I think that’s really fucked up

In a way I get why it would piss you off because when you’re sitting there putting on a full face of makeup everyday so you don’t get clocked, so you do pass, and then here’s this other tranny yapping to half a million people being like, “Haha I don’t care that I didn’t shave today,” I’d be like, what gives?

And what gives is my fucks. I don’t have them anymore!

My transition has been about setting myself free, not about finding another set of gender norms to adhere to.

Passability is not gonna save us, devotion to white supremacist beauty standards is not gonna save us.

Remember the like “Acceptable gay” movement from like the AIDS crisis almost through Obergefell about like, “These gays are just normal people and let them into society, they’re just like us.” At the beginning it was helpful in opening people’s minds but it ultimately sanitized queerness to the point where folks are still homophobic and they haven’t interrogated it. If we can’t look at clocky dolls, it we can’t look at bricky girls, if we can’t look at girls who haven’t shaved and still love them as women we will never set ourselves free. We won’t.

If you find yourself adhering to gender norms and subscribing to beauty standards it’s probably worth interrogating: Why? What are you getting out of this?

Back to the original point, I’m not making you look bad. I’m just a different kind of girl than you are. And that actually speaks to how much our community has grown and evolved. And I think that’s a good thing.

Three twitter screenshots.

Nikki Clark: As a cis woman with PCOS who grows and shaves her own facial hair. It’s really refreshing to see another woman with a 5 o’clock shadow look so good! Gunna skip shaving today f the norms!

Disdainjayne: It sort of feels misogynistic. Telling you how you should be. Tons of cis women have visual facial hair.

Jesse James Rose (creator) replies: And I love them all!!!!

Common Jay: The way people are offended when I, trans masc, don’t try to act more masculine, or when I decide to wear makeup present fem, as if it affects their gender identity…

Jesse James Rose (creator) replies: Sometimes ur just being a lil femme gay boy and ppl need to let you do your thing!!!!

OP's pronouns are she/they.

[purrincesskittens]

@muffinlance I see your Zuko gets adopted by old sweepy and propose to you Zuko gets adopted by a random scholar at the Ba Sing Se University.

Look in Yuka's defense she has a lot of siblings, and Zuko at a quick glance could pass as her youngest brother. Yes, he should be at home still nowhere near Ba Sing Se, but her siblings end up in the strangest of places so she wouldn't put it past him to show up randomly. Doesn't help she already wears thick lens glasses, and her eyesight is just getting worse from all the reading in the dark she does. Also, she was deep in her research for the paper, and the kid she mistook as her brother was really useful at finding her just what she needed for her paper. He was also apparently an expert on Avatar research, able to spout off all kinds of facts and quotes where he got that research from. By the time she realizes this kid isn't her little brother, she's decided to adopt him anyway, and she will absolutely fight the Di Lee for him. He is her new research partner, and she'll list him as one of her sources if she has to. Then they can't take him as he is an integral part of the development of the culture of Ba Sing Se. Besides, the kid sucks at hiding the fact that he is a fire bender and needs someone to take him under their wing. Half her family are firebenders anyway. She may be small and mousy, but she can be mighty when it comes to her research. She is totally willing to throw hands with the Di Lee if it comes down to it.

Zuko isn't sure what to make of the small mousy scholar he accidentally stumbled upon while trying to find more research on the Avatar. Nor is he sure how he became her research assistant. All he knows is she started calling him Koji and talking to him like she knew him or rather knew this Koji and handing him scrolls to put away and requesting more works on the Avatar some he hadn't read before as Ba Sing Se was the one place he hadn't been able to break into until now. Then he starts spouting off his Avatar knowledge between what he knows of the current Avatar and what he read in old books and scrolls she just jots down what he said without ever once looking up at him. By the time she realizes he isn't this Koji person, she has apparently decided she is keeping him. She escorts him home or to the tea shop when she is done picking his brain for the day or treats him to good food and makes sure he gets enough to not only fill his belly but also to bring home to Uncle. When he gets fired from the tea shop for fighting Jet, she hires him permanently. She even argues that Jet is clearly delusional and needs help not to be carted off by the Culural Police. He is clearly scared so badly he can't see he is safe and that there is no war in Ba Sing Se. So Jet gets an involuntary stay in one of Ba Sing Se's finest mental hospitals with his own personal Joo Dee to look after him. It's around this time that Uncle realizes he may have to fight this young lady for custody of his nephew. At least he is staying out of trouble and expanding his intellectual knowledge.

[b1asho]

Wof ocs: land-dwelling seawing and grounded skywing (aka Kelp and Osprey). It’s not like they Can’t swim or fly, but it’s a lot harder for them than the average joe.

I don’t have a whole lot of plot for them; they mostly just travel together avoiding the active battlegrounds and maybe help escort an ailing Mudwing kid to her family at some point. Par for the course with my ocs, they’re both losers. They initially only really hang out together for the mutual benefits: Osprey is intimidating enough to ward off most bandits by looks alone and has a more realistic approach to setting goals and general direction (filling in a leadership role and balancing out Kelp’s lack of a backbone or stranger danger sense and curbing her absurd fantasies ) while Kelp knows a little more about *how* to actually get things done and has a better approximation of people skills (filling in Osprey’s considerable gaps in knowledge about anything that’s not farm animals or military tactics and balancing out his aggressively distrustful demeanor that prevents him from asking for help. She’s also the one who can talk their way into and out of situations) they eventually figure out they’re a good team and more or less hang around each other

Right now I think the two are somewhere on the coast near the Diamond spray delta????(google map of Pyrrhia idk)

Some general info related to what’s on the page:

Every tribe has a lot of regional variety in terms of physical appearance. For skywings, the northern ones are the most populous and have united the other major aeries under the goal of pushing for imperial expansion on the side of burn. Northern skywings have the most dimorphism between males and females as well as the brightest colors out of the skywing region types (females have a very distinct reddish orange coloring while males have duller browns and yellows, as opposed to ospreys group where it’s switched to darker brown f vs lighter brown m) This is because they have the most unbalanced parental care system, where the male raises the chicks alone while the female leaves. No matter the type of physical difference, the social separation is ever present and more or less as extreme (completely matriarchal). An aerie is a nesting area for a group of related individuals, where there is one dominant female, a pool of married-in males (one is chosen every season to be the matriarchs pair), some other female subordinates, and the matriarchs kids (including some adult males). Females are leaders, hunters, and providers while the males do menial labor or domestic, and craft tasks. Among all skywing ethnicities, there are cases of males being born with female coloring or vice versa. Males with female coloring do not have a place in society according to their rules, since they look like a female but can’t lay eggs (meaning they are ‘broken’ in the eyes of their peers. They can’t even participate in making eggs because that would look gay and I’m deciding that theyre homophobic for fun/because of the sanctity they put on the hetero-ness of their everything). They’d normally just be driven out in bigger northern aeries, but Osprey is an exception because of his slightly different culture and because his group needed every worker they could get to survive on their land (he was kinda just treated like a defective female that has to work with the males. Not fun). A female with male coloring is more tolerated ONLY if they stay celibate and out of the way of the “real” females (often, they are just put in all-female homes as an attendant). Ospreys aerie was a small and rural one that practiced subsistence herding/hunting, so it wasn’t hard for a northern recruiter to strong-arm them with a little military coercion and cash into giving up their eligible youths for the draft. He didn’t really feel a particularly strong bond with any of his family group due to their previously described sentiments towards his condition, but it’s still a blow to the ego to know that they sold him off to die for not even one iron ingot. He got lucky with the force he was taken into (they got bronze swords and leather armor, which is more than some other skywing soldiers) but not so lucky with the area he was sent to (Sandwing ambush). After being badly wounded and finding out he was the only survivor, he fled rather than going back to a northern base and has been evading capture (and execution) since. The lack of depth perception/decreased vision in general means he can seriously mess up landing and taking off in crowded areas like a forest, and can’t do a lot of complicated maneuvers anymore. Despite already being jaded and cynical at his big teen age, he’s not really equipped to be on his own at all and has been thrown off the deep end in terms of experiencing the world for the first time.

Seawings live in pods of family members and some outsiders. Unlike other dragons, they are actually led by a pair-bonded male and female rather than it being a female-led harem type thing. This pair are the bulls, and they’re bigger than everyone else because of hormones (they’re the only reproductive members. This is enforced to varying degrees between pods, some larger more organized ones even have legislation about it. Homosexual activity is encouraged to prevent threats to the bulls (aka new kids or a new mating pair). Through interacting with other tribes, some of the more powerful “superpods” made up of multiple family lines have adopted a more female-dominant system where there are still physically distinct bulls but only the female does any governing. For trade and other stuff, too, pods will normally only send their female members since no one else would respect a male. Kelps pod was a mid-sized one that was technically a part of another super pod’s domain, but they only really interacted through some resource taxes and occasional new laws being delivered. Kelp was on the bottom rung of the social ladder and chafed a lot with her pod because of her general weirdness and lack of strong allegiance to her bull (her mother). She still feels sentiment towards them because they raised her, but was never able to fit in. The superpod they were under was allied with blister, making their territory a target for mudwings and skywings. Eventually, Kelp’s pod was affected by this when an ongoing battle between the superpod’s troops and some mudwings spilled into their land. The superpod forces lost and Kelps home was looted, in the process she was burned and separated from the others. For about a week she hung around tending to her own wounds to see if her pod would regroup somewhere, but eventually left to find a real doctor (trying not to think about the implications of them not coming back) it’s been about a month since then, and she has somehow been stumbling by using her craft skills. Shes been robbed several times and has only gotten away with her life thanks to the good ol tail slap+ massive seal teeth jaw strength combo (other than that all her health problems are 100x worse because she’s on land most of the time to avoid Mudwing-patrolled rivers and the hostility of other pods.) She’s never been outside her pods range before and the world is not so great, but she has a positive outlook (some might even say a foolishly optimistic one).

[the-ocean-is-trans]

hey this was so egregiously fucked up that i couldn't scroll past and not say something. I'm going to break down piece by piece why i think this take is hot garbage.

the graphic: I feel like this should go without saying but you have an image equating the nigerian prince scam, a scam that is driven by financial motivation/greed, with porn bots, which aren't even scamming you but are just an inconvenience on this site, to.....people asking for money to survive genocide????????????? im going to get into why its problematic to assume that gazan fundraisers are scams at face value in a moment, but even if they *were* scams I would rather be scammed out of $20 every once in a while than have literally every single person who is experiencing unimagined levels of hell and danger have to worry about being seen as illegitimate because of the actions of those who would capitalize on a tragedy. and if you can't afford the $20 guess what? you don't have to donate and you can keep your fucking mouth shut for free!

I would like to do a line read of your text, starting with "if a stranger comes to your inbox or slides in your DMs asking you for your money with some sob story, no matter how tragic and convincing the story is, they are a scammer". hey op, have you ever had to fundraise to cover a medical procedure? housing? if you havent, you maybe don't know the level of desperation, hopelessness, and fear that come with knowing that your continued ability to survive is in strangers hands. now, again, if you do not have the ability to donate, shutting the fuck up is free, but how would you feel if one of those strangers decided that they were so offended that you even deigned ask for money that they decided to cast suspicion not only you and your needs but anyone else in a similar situation who had to raise money in this manner?

and now let's get to "especially if the story is obviously copied and pasted, formatted in the exact same way" where i will return to what i said in point 1 about unimagined levels of hell and danger. imagine that said hell and danger is being caused by a nation that subjugates the rest of the world for resources to build and hoard wealth. imagine if you asked for money, even the smallest amount helps, from people who lived in that country that has been profiting off of your destruction for generations, and the people who lived there said "the way you asked for money is too similar to how the other people in my inbox have asked for money for me to believe you need it". whether you intend to or not, you are implying that the people of Palestine have to put thought and attention to changing up the message they write asking for help each time they send it, precious time and mental space people surviving genocide do NOT have, so that YOU can feel better. once again, i will reiterate, you personally do not have to donate if you are unable, or frankly even unwilling. what is particularly heinous is you using your platform to say that anyone raising money in this manner should be assumed automatically to be doing so in bad faith. how are you not ashamed of yourself?

one day you will be in need of help from people, some of whom you may not know. this is the society we live in. we are interdependent whether we like it or not. on that day, i hope you are treated in the manner that you have treated others in their moments of vulnerability and need.

sorry to have to tell you this but if a stranger comes to your inbox or slides in your DMs asking you for your money with some sob story, no matter how tragic and convincing the story is, they are a scammer — especially if the story is obviously copied and pasted, formatted in the exact same way as the other 100 bots in your inbox

[talon-the-hawk]

Yandere! Batfam x Neglected Streamer! Reader

Previous

Chapter 2: Entertainment

TW: I mean...kinda yandere behaviour...but it's a yandere fic so like if you're not into that why are you reading this far into the post? 🥲

It started off small.

A hushed giggle from Garfield as he watched something on his phone just out of Dick's line of sight.

An amused snort as Roy scrolled his phone in boredom when chilling at one of Jason's safehouses.

Konner and Jon commenting on "a new stream they saw" while over at the manor, leaving Damian and Tim confused and oblivious.

Your popularity in the content creation community was growing rapidly by the day, with your range of viewers extending out of Gotham and moving world wide. You gained a steady community of fans, with some even sending you gifts and letters. Of course, you made sure to use a P.O box to conceal your address in case someone somehow linked you to your past life as Bruce Wayne's child. Through maintaining a semi-regular streaming schedule mixed with uploading to youtube every month left you with quite a chunk of cash in your pocket. So much infact, that you soon decided to drop the couple of college courses you were taking to pursue your content creation career full time.

With the added fame came opportunities to collab. Soon enough you were streaming with the people you used to idolize. It was almost a power trip, the way you ended up being a figure that was adored so commonly.

Adored. Shown affection, unlike when you were with them.

Surprisingly enough, Damian was the first to find out. Damain: the little brother who had taunted you endlessly, mocked you in front of everyone, and showed little remorse for any of it.

Jon was giggling on his phone, eyes stuck to his screen as he watched a youtube video of some sort during one of their many hangouts.

" Tch, can't you put that device down for one moment?" Damian huffed, looking over at the boy.

"Aw, lighten up. Come watch with me." Jon chirped, motioning for Damian to sit down next to him. He reluctantly agreed, posture still slightly too stiff as he sat down on the couch next to Jon. The youngest Kent propped his phone up in his hands, eager to show his friend the newest content creator he had found. His finger hit the play button, and it only took a couple seconds for Damian's eyes to narrow in recognition.

Surely not.

It sounded like you. There was no mistaking it, the same soft timbre that he would make choke up with tears now rang out confidently in an enrapturing way. Each word seemed to catch the complete attention of everyone who watched, bringing a sort of comfort that settled itself in his ribs.

When did they get so popular? Does Bruce know his child is building a reputation anonymously?

It was clear to Damian when he looked over at Jon that the youngest super had no idea it was you, and he supposed that made sense. Often times when Jon came over Damian made a bigger show of ostracizing you from the rest of the family. Now that he really thought about it, he realized that Jon had never really heard you speak in person. You had always tried to get out of Damian's vicinity whenever you spotted him, especially when he was with Jon.

Jon clearly saw he was lost in thought, snapping his fingers in front of Damian's face.

"Hello? Earth to Damian?"

Damian's gaze just slowly returned to the small device.

"I need to go find someone, I'll be back."

For Dick, he was doom scrolling on instagram one night after patrols when a certain reel made him pause. It was a clip one of your viewers had taken from a stream a while back, one where a fan of yours had made a huge donation. The donation requested you to share some sort of talent you had, and as per your usual antics you focused your camera on your new bedroom (still wearing a mask and sunglasses to keep yourself as unidentifiable as you could) and prepared.

"God, this is embarrassing. I actually learned how to do this a while back in order to try and impress some of my family, but that's a story for another time-" You snorted, before flipping over to walk on your hands. You did a little lap around your space before eventually standing back up, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of your nose to make sure they didn't fall.

There was no mistaking it was you, he'd recognize his baby bird anywhere. But what he wasn't prepared for was your small show of talent. He tried to recall any previous instances of you showing an interest in any sort of acrobatics, but his mind came up blank. Matter of fact, he was struggling to come up with a recollection of any of your hobbies.

Surely you've talked to him about something you were interested in before, no? He was your older brother, he should know about your hobbies.

Dick racked his brain, trying to come up with any memory of even holding a proper conversation with you, and his guilt seemed to increase every time he came up empty. He vaguely recalled a time you had asked to show him "something you thought he would like", but he had brushed it off as it was close to the time he was set to patrol.

He bit down on his bottom lip in guilt, clicking on the caption of the reel and trying to see if the person had tagged your official account. They hadn't (which honestly he found insulting, the clip was your hard work and this pathetic internet leech couldn't even be bothered to give you credit-) but in the hashtags he found what he assumed to be the same you went by on most platforms. He quickly typed it into his search bar, letting out a gasp at just how popular you seemed to be.

His baby bird was really taking after him in the entertainment industry. Although it wasn't really the same thing, Dick couldn't help but feel like he was part of your inspiration to become a famous personality.

He spent the next couple of hours carefully combing through your content, memorizing every reoccurring joke you held with your audience and how you acted as a safe space for your community.

God, he really needed to go find you and tell you how proud he was of your success.

Author's note:

Hey y'all! Dw, dw...Jason and Tim's reactions are coming soon lol :p hope you guys enjoy the chapter and please lemme know what you think! Ooh, also if you have any title recommendations for this fic, that would be baller because I've been really struggling to find one hehe!

Taglist: @vanessa-boo @jjsmeowthie @cxcilla @itsberrydreemurstuff @trashlanternfish360 @starsswaggy @legolas-the-homeschooled-elf @nickithearticorn @hallahella @lettucel0ver @kittzu @cssammyyarts @ryuushou @welpthisisboring @neverdead2 @mallowryblog @lingxio @the-dumber-scaramouche @oxionsworld @raini-sanchez @jellyedkazoo @alishii @bellethesleepypotato

[prcttyfairies]

mississippi delta, elias 'stack' moore & elijah 'smoke' moore

pairing: elias 'stack' moore x cicely 'angel' james x elijah 'smoke' moore

content: cicely james mother gets the courage to leave her father and heads back to the mississippi delta, where her brother and the twins wait on their arrival at the train station.

warnings: mention of child abuse, mention of human trafficking, strong language, racial slurs.

an: so i did end up seeing the movie again. the movie theatre by my house sells tickets for $5 on tuesdays so i went again. and i wanted to alter the story a little bit, but i want you guys to decide which one i should stick to. my first one or this one. i'm gonna put a poll out so you guys can decide.

Mississippi Delta, 1921

Cicely James was born in Clarksdale, Mississippi, spending six years of her life in the Delta before her parents made their choice to claim the land her Daddy, Otis James had back in Georgia. He had used his skills of farming, taking care of animals, selling crops to the best of his abilities, to care for his family. Yet, when the time came, and it had, his drunken habits often haunted Cicely at night. However, an innocent mind like her own always managed to forgive when morning came and his apologies filled the room for his foul behavior.

But for Clayton James, he wasn’t that easily persuaded. His Daddy left bruises on him, his mama, his sisters, the time came when he just couldn’t suffer no more. It all couldn’t be forgotten no matter how much he tried for the sake of them. And he had made his decision, and he had begged and pleaded his mama to make a decision not only for herself but his sisters. Seraphine James was close to it. But she couldn’t leave her husband. That loved disguised as fear being too strong for her to make a bold move like that sending her boy on his way.

It seemed as years passed, all she needed was a strong push.

Cicely hadn’t known what was happening. She woke up, scared out of her sleep with new bruises over her body from the night prior. She thought it was Otis coming back to lay on more punishment, but instead it was her Mama, Seraphine’s' voice shaken, as she whispered slowly for Cicely to rise with haste. She had done the same to Lily-Mae, the youngest of the three children the women had birthed.

With keys taken from her father’s coat jacket, her mother put as much as they could carry in the motor, just to drive away from home and not look back. Lily-Mae found herself resting whilst Cicely couldn’t allow sleep to take over her until she got answers from her mother. The truth.

And the truth was what Seraphine reluctantly gave her; “He was gon’ sell you girl,” words that Cicely never thought she’d hear, “A man willin’ to pay a lot of money to have you as his housewife, I couldn’t allow that.” She shakes her head as her emotions take over, jaw clenching, with tears glossing over her rage filled eyes, “Not my baby, not my Cicely.”

The rest of the drive to the station was quiet. Cicely holding her mama’s hand through her tears until they stopped. When they arrived, Seraphine did the smart thing, selling the motor for some money to buy their tickets and get them to where they needed to go. Back to Seraphine’s home where she was raised and never should’ve left. The Mississippi Delta.

Cicely was curious about what their plan was. What were they going to do? Who were they going to stay with? As far as she could remember they didn’t have much when they left so she didn’t think they’d have anything upon their return, twelve years later.

On the train Lily-Mae could barely even rest. Seraphine scolded her youngest to stay seated and do as she was told afraid she would disturb the folk around them. Even made the mistake of almost falling on a woman, a white woman at that.

Cicely eyes had widened, moving to grab her sister's arm, “I-I’m so sorry, Ma’am, she should’ve been watching what she was doing.” She was quick to apologize for her sister's mistakes keeping the ten year old at her side.

Instantly the women shook her head, couldn’t had been any younger then Cicely, brunette hair pinned into a bob with a beauty mark on her right cheek, “Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin’, kids her age gotta find a way to let out that energy of theirs,” she smiled kindly, reaching over as she brushed a strand of Lily-Mae’s curly hair out of her face. Cicely was surprised by her kindness but it was appreciated, “Might I ask what y’all names are, you do look quite familia’”

Cicely hesitated for a moment before she answered, “My name is Cicely James ma’am, and this here is my younger sister, Lily-Mae.” She introduced them.

The woman's eyes widened, her smile expending a length of joy as a small gasp escaped her lips, “Cicely James?!” the spoke of girl brows furrowed in confusion at how she spoke her name as if it was a reminder, “Well I’ll be, it’s me! Mary Boone.”

At the name being spoken aloud, Cicely allowed it to click in her head, “Mary?!” she sounded just as surprised as the women in front of her. She was grown just as she was, letting it sink in that the last time she had seen her she was six years old, but thinking now the resemblance she was ashamed that she couldn’t see it before, “My god, I didn’t even recognize you,” Mary had stood from her seat on the train pulling Cicely into a warm embrace taking her by surprise, even having Lily looking between them in astonishment.

“Well, don’t you worry about it now you know who I am and we can sit and catch up,” Mary says through small laughter in joy. When she pulled back she looked down at Lily-Mae, “And you I hope I have the pleasure of get to knowin’”

Cicely placed her hand on her sister’s shoulder, “Lily-Mae was born some time after we moved to Georgia,” she explained, Lily only ever growing up around the folk in Georgia having no memory of those in Delta, only the stories that she was told, “Mary, we used to be good friends with before we moved to Georgia,” Cicely informed her sister

Lily still frowned slightly up at Mary, “but she a white woman,” Cicely’s eyes widened at her sister's words causing her to nudge her, and Mary laughed.

She nodded her head, “Yes, but when you are young and raised by some open minds, you seem to forget the differences that others manage to always pay attention to.” Mary sent Cicely a smile, and she returned, “So, what y’all doin’ back in Delta, where’s ya mama?”

Cicely gestured towards the back of the train, “Back there restin’ her eyes." she gestured back with her head, "I guess she missed Mississippi too much, and Clay.” At the mention of her brother's name Mary seemed to perk up.

"Yo brotha," Mary smiled in a way that could say she was smitten. Clayton always seemed to have that effect on the lady's, even the pale skinned ones, "He been hangin' around the boys, got people calling him Ace," Cicely's brows furrowed at that, "You remember the boys, right? Elijah and Elias Moore?"

Cicely's eyes widened, "The twins?" Mary nodded in confirmation. Cicely remembered them, her brother inseparable from them. She could only guess it's from him being the only boy, "I'm surprised they still in the Delta. Always dreamin' about making it big. At least for eleven year old minds." she recalled as far as her memories would take her. She was only six when they left but she still remembered them and their ways.

"Oh, they're still here alright," Mary replies in a tone that leaves Cicely curious at what they've been up to, "They go by Smoke and Stack now. People in Delta fear them just like they fear Clay."

Cicely was shocked by this information. She hadn't seen her brother in six years, but she never thought he turn into someone they feared. He often was a sweetheart, always wanting to take care of those around him in the best way he could.

Granted, their fathers violence against them had in all likelihood had a party in his change along with his part in the war that left men becoming their worst selves. Cicely knew that at some point her memories of the night of pain and cries were going to weigh her down eventually with the constant reminder of what she and her family had gone through managing to creep up on her. She didn't want it to, trying to stay reflecting on the good recollections that hadn't been completely out weighed by the bad. But it was getting there.

"My brotha?" She asked, trying to make for certain that she was referring to Clay and not some other Clayton.

Mary once again nodded, "Yep, Ace, and the Smoke-Stack twins." she voiced their title with a bit of a bitterness behind it as she glanced down at her kitten heels.

Cicely wasn't one to pry, especially into business that didn't involve her. But she seemed to understand now that there was some unresolved tension with someone among the trio with Mary.

She seemed to have shaked herself out of whatever path her mind was taking her down, looking back up at Cicely and smiling, "So are y'all just visiting? Where's ya daddy?" Mary found herself curious having not seen the man resting beside his wife.

At the question Cicely felt herself shift in discomfort for the reminder of their return. Mary noticed that. She also seemed to finally pay some close attention to Cicely's features, having allowed her to see the girl again, completely blind herself to what was right in front of her. The bruise on her face, it appearing over her deep-golden brown skin, her tight curls surrounding her face nearly helped distract her from the clear evidence of abuse.

Mary didn't want to ask further, she didn't want to trigger anything for the girl that she wasn't already thinking about, "Well, no matter what, y'all gotta come an' visit mama. All she ever talks about is how she missed y'all and wished she didn't have to see y'all go."

Cicely found herself nodding her head instantly, "My mama would love that, familia faces is what she could do for right now," she touched her sister's hair who oddly stood still whilst they conversed.

The wheels of the train screeched against the tracks, the convoy coming to a step letting everyone who needed to get off know that they were at their destination. Cicely gave Mary a smile, excusing herself grabbing a hold of Lily-Mae's hand as she walked in the direction her mother was in, not too far. Cicely crouched down, shaking her mother slightly, waking the women up letting her know they arrived at the station.

Meanwhile, outside Clayton James stood, the twins on either side of him as he waited for his sisters and his mother. A week ago he had received a letter from Seraphine. One that he had been shocked to be receiving. Guilt had ate at him since the day he left, regretful of leaving his family with a man he wished never had call his Father. God only knows what more that man put them through since he'd been gone, and he didn't want scenarios in his head making him feel worse about his decisions.

His mother had told him to meet them at the station. They needed somewhere to stay and he got it. He made sure to be prepared for them, knowing that this was their moment of escape and some peace and safety. He wasn't going to mess that up.

He paced back and forth in nervousness believing his movement would be subtle, however, the twins looked at him as if he had three heads. It was Stack who had stopped him, grabbing his arm bringing his movement to a halt.

"Relax, muthafucka, you makin' me sick," his accent thick when he spoke, toothpick in his mouth, gold crown that aligned the edge of his teeth visible. He had pulled Clay back into his spot in between them.

Clay searched, eyes moving over all the faces hoping to see the familiar ones, "Y'all see 'em?" he asked the twins, getting skeptical if they actually ever got on the train.

"We ain't seen Mrs. Seraphine and ya sista in twelve years, Ace, what makes you think we gon' recognize they faces?" Smoke retorted with his usual stone expression, it rarely ever cracked.

"And what if he got 'em? What if they ain't get on the train?" Clay found himself thinking the worst, bodies coming off and boarding the train and still, no one came into view.

Stack placed an assuring hand on Clay's shoulder, "Then we'd go to Georgia and get 'em back. It's time yo daddy know what it's like to get a beatin'" he declared ready for anything.

Smoke and Stack didn't take well to finding out that Clay along with his sisters and his mother had been getting abused. When he arrived back in Delta, they asked him why he didn't take them with him. "Can't force 'em to walk away. My mom too muthafuckin' loyal to leave, and Cicely and Lily-Mae wasn't leavin' her.'' It was just a truth they couldn't bother to be angry at. It took five years for Seraphine to come to her senses, Clay just wanted to know what it took to finally lead her there.

He continued to search, dark eyes fighting through the bodies just for them to land on them. Clay sees Lily-Mae first, the girl having grown a bit since he last saw her. He could tell it had been a while since his mama had cut her hair, it had stopped at her mid-back, long and curly. She wore a green dress stopping just a little ways below her knees and black flats that were covered in dirt no doubt from her running around chasing the goats like he remembered her always doing.

His mama was next, holding Lily's hand whilst holding a bag in her other one. As she looked around like he had just been not long before, from he could make out her facial features she seemed exhausted, the bags under eyes being a dead give away. She wore a grey beret that she no doubt made herself when she had the time, hair binned into a small bun. A blue dress she wore, with a white collar that came together in the middle forming a loose knot at the center of her chest. There was no doubt that his sisters always had clothes, with their mama being a seamstress and all, she always made them something nice to wear, even if it was just for around the house.

Whilst he looked at her frozen, trying to control his emotions as best as he could but knowing he was going to fail, the older woman's eyes had finally found him. Seraphine smiled in relief in her son's direction before she bent down, whispering something in Lily-Mae's ear and pointing in his direction.

She followed her mothers finger, scanning over the area quickly before she found him. Lily-Mae instantly smiled, face lighting up with a joy that he always missed seeing on her face before she began to run towards him, "Clay! Clay!" she shouted his name at the top of her lungs, grabbing the attention from nearly everyone as she dodged bodies on her way to him.

Clay laughed, opening his arms wide allowing the girl to run right into his middle, arms wrapping around his waist in a strong embrace. He hummed in happiness this squeeze mending the ache in his chest just a little bit more, "Well I'll be damn, look how big you got!" he pulled her back to look her over. He pushed her hair out of her face, "Mama let you leave the house like this----lookin' like a wild child."

Lily-Mae smiled up at him, "Mama says I am a wild child. Everyday she can't go without tellin' me that she would've pray to god for a boy if she wanted one." she speaks, winded from her run over to him.

"I guess we can call you her karma, huh?" Clay speaks as he looks her over, dropping to her knew where she had a bandage around it, "And let me guess..." he pointed towards the securely wrapped wound, "Chancin' dim damn chicken's, wasn't ya?" It wasn't a constant thing she had done when she was old enough to start walking.

She laughed in agreement, "Cicely always said it may scare the eggs out of hens," Lily-Mae brushed her hair out of her face as she finally took notice of the two men, with the same features, just didn't color accessories; blue and red. When she took notice of the blade slightly peakin' out her eyes widened, "Wow! Look at that!" she moved to touch it, Clay grabbing her hand.

Stack chuckled at her amazement of blade, "Girl, you can't just be goin' around touchin' a man's blade like that," Clay slightly scolded his sister.

"Don't worry 'bout it, mane," Stack assured him, taking the blade out with a brass knuckle ring for the handle, "This blade right here, ain't for a lady."

Lily-Mae scoffed at his words, "Good thang, I'm far from a fuckin' lady," she cursed taking Clay by surprise, and causing Stack to cackle loudly at her boldness. It even made Smoke's mouth twitch with a smile.

Clay was about to say something to her about her mouth just for another voice to beat him to it, "Lily-Mae James, you watch that mouth of yours or you'll be goin' over ma knee," Seraphine's sternness had caused the gentlemen's eyes to come up and look at the women.

Lily murmured a "Sorry, mama," before she found her eyes going up to Stack who playfully stuck his tongue at her, in which the young ten year old glared at him.

Seraphine then smiled up at her boy. He looked like a man, dressed like a man, but he was still her boy in her eyes. Her first born that she missed everyday since she watched him walk away, with no urge to stop him and attempt to get him to stay.

When he had told her he was leaving, she left him with nothing but this, "One of us gotta make it out, I'm just happy it's not in a box." he cried on her shoulder that night and when the sun rose he was gone and then it was Seraphine's turn to weep, tears of both loss and joy.

Tears had already begun to brim her eyes, as she reached over, adjusting his suit jacket, fine and tailored brushing over any lint. Her hands then found their way up to his face taking in his features that had changed since she had last seen him. He had matured in a way she wasn't expecting, but appreciated. To see him standing here in front of her instead of him dead somewhere in the trenches.

"Look at my boy," her voice cracked, tears falling as she pulled Clay into strong embrace leaving him to do the reciprocate. His own emotions couldn't contain, feeling the burn he felt like hadn't felt in a long time, followed by a wetness sliding down to the tip of his nose.

They stood right there for a moment, Lily-Mae standing once again going to reach for Stack's blade just for him to distract herself from the sentimental moment just for him to quickly grab her hand. She gave him a challenging brow, before going in with her other hand just for him to do the same. Lily laughed, finding it funny to mess with the man who was basically a stranger to her, however, the way he stood at her brothers side, Clay must've trusted him.

Smoke stood there, silently, looking around not paying them any mind. As always he was on high alert, eye searching around as if he was looking for some form of threat to come their way. Maybe Otis James made the dumb decision to follow them and was lurking, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

He didn't see anyone approaching that appeared threatening. Instead his eyes fell to a woman who cared bags in her hand, her hair blowing in the soft breeze causing him to take notice of her features. Specifically the bruises. She held the same similar features of Clay, hair like the young one toying with his other half. She wore a white dress that stopped before her ankles purple flowers decorating it, the clothing tight around her rib cage whilst the rest of the dress fell loose.

A beautiful women she was. Eyes holding an innocence that he hadn't seen in most women in Delta. She almost looked like an angel, pure and untainted. But if she was who he thought she was, she had been through things. Similar to what he had been through and just like him, it must've haunted her.

"God, you look like a man," Seraphine had pulled away from her son's embraced, exhale heavily as she wiped her face and went up to wipe Clay's.

He laughed gently, "Because I am a man, mama," he retorts, adjusting his jacket.

Seraphine hit on his chest gently, "Stop trying to impress yo lil friends boy," she gestured to the twins, "And who might boys be?" she asked, sniffling from her tears as her eyes fell on between both of them.

"Mama, it's Elias and Elijah Moore," Clay informed his mother, setting her down memory lane as her eyes widened, eyes snapping between the two of them.

Lily-Mae had stopped her toying around with Stack as the man shifted his attention to the women he had remembered from when he was younger. Smoke hesitantly moved his eyes to Seraphine as well, a little afraid that if he took his eyes off the women that stood not that far from them she'd disappear into thin air.

"My god, you Bethanne's boys, aren't ya?" Seraphine inquired but she could see it now. In their eyes, they had them. She could see the women that was once her best friend before she passed away.

"Yes, Ma'am," Stack found himself confirming for her.

Seraphine laughed taking a step back to observe them, "I guess y'all really ain't boys no mo'," she looked over all of them, "Cicely, come look at 'em!"

Clay had snapped his gaze behind his mom at his sister who stood there with their luggage at her feet. She wasn't liked Lily. She didn't run to him displaying her joy of reuniting with him. Instead she looked more of angry. He could understand that. He had left without saying goodbye. Lily was too young at the time, and whatever mama had told her was easier to persuade her then it was for Cicely.

But instead of timidly acknowledging her as if she was ticking time bomb prepared to go off, he started off with his usual batter, "So ya just gonna stand there like a brat, or ya gonna come give ya big brotha a hug?" he opened his arms before they fell back at his side.

"I'm just fine where I'm at."

Seraphine looked at her daughter taken aback at how she was acting, "Cicely James! You get over here and hug ya brotha," she demanded her, but she didn't move from her spot, "You can't just ignore him."

Cicely rolled her eyes, "Oh please, ma, it ain't like it's nothin' he ain't done befo'" she retaliates. Clay tried to laugh through her words, acting as if it didn't sting to see her treating him like that. He couldn't be upset, he deserved it.

He scratched at his nose, taking a step forward, "You ain't gon' make me chase you, is you Cicely James?"

Her eyes narrowed, "You ain't got the balls, not in front of all these people," she gestured around, "We don't want no one in Delta thinkin' they Ace has gone soft, now do we?" Stack laughed. He was amused, entertained by this girl, this woman, Cicely James. A face of an Angel, but with a smart mouth.

"How you hear dat name, Cicely?" Clay asked his sister, knowing that news like that wouldn't have travelled all the way to Georgia.

Cicely rolled her eyes, not answering. But Lily-Mae had one, “Some white lady on the train, said she knew you and that you roamed around like’uh gangsta with the Smoke-Stack twins,” the youngest one amongst them glanced between two men opposite her brother, “You must be them.”

Clay thought about it for a while before he laughed rubbing his head, “Mary-fuckin’-Boone,” his history with the girl creeping up on him. It was a fucked up situation that he wished he could forget and have the urge to go back and think twice before getting involved with her, but he couldn’t. And his decision to keep his distance from her upset her to no extent, “You think I care ‘bout what they think?” He questioned her, she didn’t answer, “Nah, I’m just glad that y’all home, so…” he trailed off, approaching her causing Cicely to take a step back every time he took a step forward, “Cicely, girl!" his legs being longer then her own with long strides, she could barely get more then four steps in before his arms wrapped around her frame.

She released a squeal, "Let me go, Clayton!" Cicely tried to free her arms, kicking her legs as he lifted her up, "Put me down goddamit!" feeling a bit of pain as he lifted her, but tried to suppress it.

"Not until you forgive me, girl," Clay huffed, holding her close to his side. His hat had fallen off his head, Lily-Mae having picked it up, dusting it off. She let out a breathless, humorless laugh shaking her head, "What you want me to say, huh? That I messed up? That I'm a coward fo' leavin' y'all behind?" Cicely shoved at him again to get him to let go over her but he didn't budge, "I thought about y'all every day, ya hear? I wished I ain't had left y'all behind, but I can't change what I did. All I can do is make up for it," he paused for second, a pregnant pause fill the air between the, "Let me make up for it."

Cicely took calming breaths as she thought about his words. When she woke up to find out he left, she cried. She had cried for days wondering why he had left. Specifically why he hadn't taken her with him. She was heartbroken. Her brother was always there, defending her to the best his abilities would take him. And when he left, she thought he given up on them. And the fact that he hadn't visited, not even a letter, broke her heart even more. That sadness over the years had turned into anger, betrayal at his choice.

And now here he was, holding onto her for dear life asking for her forgiveness. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she missed him. Cicely couldn't say their relationship was going to be like it was before he left, but he could come back to it. At some point in time.

"Fine."

Clay smiled, slowly unraveling his arms from around her, allowing Cicely to stand up straight. He then opened them wide the proper way, to which she reluctantly gave in engulfing him in a hug. Clay felt another wave of tears about to hit him and he fought to them back, them rimming the underlid of his eyes.

Cicely pressed the unharmed side of her face into his chest, taking this in for herself, having her brother back. She could feel the wetness of her tears slide down the side of her face. Being the first pull away, she sniffled and wiped her tears away with her palm.

He looked down at her. His 6'3 frame towering over her 5'3 body. He laid his hand on her shoulder causing her to look up at him. Clay's jaw clenched at seeing her face. Fighting his words to ask how long ago she was given them. Instead he just pulled her into his side and turned to face his mother, sister, and the twins.

"Y'all so dramatic," Lily-Mae retorts, causing her older sister to glare at her.

Stack's eyes focused on Cicely who moved to grab the bags, "Woah, Woah," he instantly step forward, taking ahold of the bags before she could, "I got that for ya, Angel." she looked at him a little surprised.

Cicely shook her head, "No, it's okay, I can carry 'em," she protested hand moving out to grab their belongs.

"Don't you worry 'bout it," He assured her, "We wouldn't be gentleman if we let y'all ladies carry y'all luggage," Stack gestured his head to the bag that Seraphine held, looking at his brother.

Smoke adjusted his coat jacket, taking the bag from Seraphine, "We got the car all ready fo' y'all."

"We takin' a motor?!" Lily practically yelled, practically bounding on her toes from the excitement.

In the small motor car, Cicely sat up front, smooshed into between the two Smoke-Stack twins. Her mom and sister sat behind her, Lily-Mae in Clay’s lap since the back seats were so confined. On the journey to wherever they were taking them, Cicely fought it as hard as she could, but her eyes continued to drop. The exhaustion weighed in on her having barely slept a few hours on the train, the rest of time her rest she neglected for her own selfish reasons. Her mom needed the sleep and she couldn’t have Lily-Mae up bothering folks.

Without her holding back much longer she allowed her eyes to close, attempting up hold her head but the deeper she got in her sleep, the less she was able to fight it. Her head fell onto Smoke's shoulder, taking the man by surprise. He glanced down at her, moving the toothpick around his mouth as he observed her features now at peace while she rested. He shifted his gaze back to the road.

“I’m sorry ‘bout that, she ain’t sleep much on the train.” Seraphine apologized to the man that she had known since he was nothing but a baby.

Instantly Smoke brushed it off, “That’s just alright Mrs. James, she must've been exhausted.” It being the first time they had actually heard him speak since they had gotten off the train.

Clay bit at his thumb, a question eating up at him that he didn’t want to ask Cicely, not wanting to ruin a moment special, “When she get those bruises, mama?” He questioned out loud, just wanting to know how recently his daddy had put his hands on Cicely. He had done it to her most, for reasons only he and his mama knew of and for Cicely's sake they mama had kept it a secret from the girl with the fear that she’d grow to hate her too.

Seraphine sent her son a side glance before she released a heavy breath, “The night we left.” she answered with a pain in her tone, “Tended to her wounds, let her rest up for a bit. Bastard passed out on the couch so I took that chance to start packin’ our bags.” she had never moved so fast in her life, and as quiet as she possibly could.

“And that last hit finally gave you the strength to leave 'em, huh?”

The women was too afraid to admit, to under the words that she knew were true. That it wasn’t the hit that broke the camels back, “Sadly, no. It wasn’t that.” The information that she had discovered had finally trigger the fight or flight mode in her head , “He was gon’ sell her,” Clay snapped his head in his mama's direction, face contorted in a rage that she had never seen her son have. Granted it had been five years since has last seen him but no memories of him holding this murderous expression she seen in this moment, could she find in her brain, "A man wanted her for a housewife, to raise his kids since his wife died, Otis was gon' go through with it."

Smoke and Stack sent one another a side glance. They hadn't seen Cicely James in years. They didn't have to for the gears in their head to turn and just like Clay, they felt a murderous rage at the fact that Otis James was going to sell his daughter.

The eldest james child released a humorless chuckle, Lily-Mae too young to understand the situation, glancing in between the two adults, "And let me guess, the muthafucka still breathin'?" he didn't need his mama to answer for him to know the truth. He could only shake his head, the flame of anger in him only burning brighter, "You seem to fo'get, mama? That man know you like the back of his hand, so how long you thankin' it's gon' take for him to track y'all back to Delta?"

It wasn't going to be long, Seraphine knew that much. And the thought had sat with her the entire train ride back to her home. She couldn't even embraced the familiarity of it all, her thoughts clouding her mind as she did ask herself the question that her son had voiced out loud.

"What makes you think I'd have the strength to kill him?"

Clay scoffed, "Out of all the years he been slowly killin' y'all, I don't know how it wasn't already there," a pregnant paused filled the air, hearing nothing but the wind caused by the accelerating speed, blowing past their ears, "All I know is one thing, mama," he began, looking at the women once more, "He come knockin' at my door, imma shoot him where he stands." he declared allowed with not a waver in his tone.

Seraphine closed her eyes at her sons threat, his promise. She took a break as she questioned, "You'd kill yo daddy?" her eyes fluttered open as she directed her gaze to Clay. He was already looking at her.

His green eyes that he had gotten from her father stared right back at her. No emotions present on his face, with no hesitance he responded, "No, mama, I'd kill a man," he shifted his attention, back to the cotton fields that they passed as he added, "He stopped bein' my daddy a long time ago."

[inuiiwonderland]

PARENTS?!

You knew something was off the moment you woke up a few minutes before your alarm went off and how you and grim were able to have a peaceful morning without chaos.

Words: 2k

Heartslabyul x gn reader!

I just combined the word mama + papa and got MAPA so yeah…..

-

Something about today didn’t feel right

For starters, you woke up a few minutes before your alarm went off, you and grim were able to shake off the sleep and actually got out of bed without a fuss for once!

And then, the two of you actually got ready on time and even had time to eat some breakfast before heading out to class. For the first time in forever!

Then, the whole walk to class was peaceful and no one came by to disturb the peace. In fact, you two barely saw anyone on your walk to class.

Which was….weird

You and grim for once made it on time to class, 10 minutes early to be exact!

Okayyyyy…..maybe the sevens are finally giving you a break!

As you and grim chatted, you couldn’t help but look around.

“Hey, where’s Ace and deuce?” Grim also looks around before shrugging.

“Don’t know and don’t care! Anyways, we should definitely have tuna salad for dinner-“

Suddenly the door slams open with a loud BANG

Both you and grim yelp and turn to see who the culprit was behind the loud noise.

There by the door stood a boy who seemed to be a student at heartslabyul huffing and puffing as he tried to catch his breath.

“What is the meaning of this?” Crewel says sternly. One perfectly trimmed eyebrow raised as he waits for the poor student to explain why he nearly knocked out his classroom door from its hinges.

“S-so *GASP* S-Sorry - professor *GASP* crewel!”

“Mind explaining?”

“T-the p-prefect! We need the prefect!”

Ah, there it is

You knew it was too good to be true

“Why?” You asked. Both confused and a little annoyed.

“It’s urgent! The housewarden has requested you to come to the dorm!” The boy says. You look at crewel, the man just sighs as he gives you the go ahead. You pick up grim and walk down to where the student stood.

“Lead the way…”

-

Every step you take as the boy leads you to the chamber of mirrors causes the pit in your stomach to grow worse and worse than before. You have absolutely no idea what type of trouble awaits you in the heartslabyul dorm.

Was it another overblot?

Did someone accidentally lose all the hedgehogs and decide to put the blame on you???!

Did Ace and deuce do something that caused the whole dorm to be in ruins and have riddle ask for you specifically because you’re their friend?!?!?!

You don’t know, and you’re not ready

Upon arriving at heartslabyul, you were confused by how calm and peaceful the dorm was in. No ruined hedges, the roses are painted red and aren’t dead or ripped apart, the maze or anything isn’t on fire, no one is running around with a lost head!

The dorm looks to be fine

So

What’s the emergency?

You turned to the first year, confused.

“Uhh….the dorm seems to be fine? What is the emergency-”

“Follow me!” He quickly grabs ahold of your hand before YANKING you inside the maze. You and grim both yelp and you quickly try to match his pace as he expertly moves through the maze.

Jeez this is one of the more confusing mazes in the whole dorm and this first year already knows it like it’s the back of his hand!

You noticed some muffled voices in the distance, the closer the three of you got the more clearer it became. You could make out both Ace and deuce! Seems like they were running after something or… someone by how loud they were and the sound of “stop!” And “get back here please!” Left their mouths.

Oh sevens help you

“I brought them!” The first year shouts.

You could not believe your eyes

It was like a scene from a cartoon. Ace running around after what seems to be a- KID?!

Wait wait wait-

EVERYONE IS RUNNING AROUND TRYING TO CATCH MORE THAN ONE KID???

You see Ace chasing after a 8? 7? Year old boy while deuce seems to be holding something- wait no he’s holding a freaking baby!! Deuce is holding a baby in his arms while he chases after another little kid.

And then there’s cater. He’s busy running around trying to catch the two little girls who currently have his precious phone in their hands. The two giggle while cater prays to the sevens they don’t drop or break his phone.

Trey is busy listening to the little girl yap about the different baking techniques that even HE didn’t know existed and you swear he’s taking notes.

And riddle? Actually you don't see riddle anywhere. But you do see two children awkwardly standing near a corner as they watch everything unfold before their very eyes.

“What the actual fuck is going on” Everyone stops at the sound of your voice. The first year that was standing beside you gulps before BOLTING out of there. Not before whispering a small “good luck” on his way back to the maze.

Now with everyone’s eyes on you, you feel uneasy.

“Henchmen….I think we should also run back inside the maze” Grim whispers as his eyes don’t leave the scene in front of him.

“Yeah…good idea” You whisper back. You take a couple steps back, ready to also bolt out of there but was stopped when all the kids screamed and RAN their way towards you.

“MAPA!!!” They all scream. Both you and grim also scream but in terror as you both were tackled straight to the ground by the little mob.

“Mapa mapa! Where were you?!” One of the kids screams excitedly. She has bright orangish hair that reaches her back along with very interesting eyes. Both her and what you assume is her twin sister because of how eerily similar they look, they each have different eye colors. Similar to the leech twins.

One of them, her right eye was a beautiful green and her left was a nice e/c, while her sister's right eye was e/c and her left was green.

Yep definitely twins

“W-what? Mapa? W-what’s going on?”

“Mapa! I'm so hungry! Can we go home and eat?”

“Mapa, I’m tired. Can we go home?”

Mapa mapa mapa

Sevens you are going to go crazy!

And then when you think it can’t get worse, you hear a loud and whiny cry.

You turn to deuce who yelps and quickly tries to calm down the crying baby in his arms. One of the kids that was one of the reasons you got tackled quickly got up and ran towards deuce. She made little grabby hands signaling him to give her the baby. He gently gave her the baby and she was able to calm down the poor little boy as she rocked and hummed him a lullaby.

Yep that’s older sister right there

“Okay….seriously what’s going on, who are these kids, and where is riddle because the only reason I’m here is because of him who rudely requested me!”

“Yeah! Also where did that freshman go? He’s about to get a good a-”

“You’re a parent now”

“WHAT?!” Both you AND grim screech.

You look down to one of the kids. He eerily resembled Ace but the one thing that made you pale was the sight of his eyes.

Then you turned to the two more quiet children. They both had the same striking red hair along with the cute heart shaped strand on top of their heads.

Okay…

You then turned to the last one. She had short green shoulder length hair and the cutest dimples ever. She stared at you worriedly.

“Mapa are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost”

“I-I think I did”

After a very long and confusing conversation, from the kids and the others. You have come to terms that you are now officially a parent.

Eh you were hoping to wait until you were 26 but I guess it’s okay.

From what the other have told you, you now know who the kid’s fathers are.

Ace: one 8 year old son named Aiden

Deuce: two kids, one 7 year old daughter named Evelyn and a 3 month old son named Luka

Cater: two twin daughters named ruby and Amelia, age: 9 years old

Trey: one 7 year old daughter named Emma.

And lastly, riddle: two kids. One 9 year old boy named Felix and a 7 year old daughter named Alice.

“Mapa, have you seen father?” Felix asks quietly. Alice stands behind him with the same look.

“Ah! Uh no I haven’t….where is riddle?” And just like that, the housewarden was summoned.

He looks puzzled to say the least. His eyes scan the area before stopping to look at the kids that were in the room.

“What in the great sevens is going on here?!”

“Father!”

“Papa!” Both Felix and Alice say. They were excited to see their father and quickly jumped to hug riddle.

“F-father? What-” Ace whistles as he watches the flustered housewarden.

“Fatherhood is looking real nice on ya housewarden” he teases. The housewarden face turns a bright red as he tries to form simple sentences.

“I-I w-what?!”

“Father, when are we going home?” Felix asks curiously.

“Yeah when? I’m starting to get hungry!” Little Alice chirps.

“I think we should feed them something first. Half of them have complained that they are hungry” You suggest. You carefully took baby Luka from Evelyn as you could tell she was getting a little tired. You smiled down at the small cute bundle in your arms.

He had the same bluish hair and cyan eyes just like his father. While Evelyn was the exact carbon copy of you.

Cute

-

“So you’re telling me you have no clue on how they got here?”

Crowley stood behind his desk with the biggest grin ever as you, crewel, and everyone from heartslabyul gave him the most deadpan look.

“Wellllll I do have a small theory! Oh look how cute they all look! This one looks exactly like you my dear!” Crowley beams. You rolled your eyes.

He has no clue

“Is there any way to get them back home? I’m sure their parents are freaking out” Riddle says.

“We all know you are” Ace mutters. Deuce nudges him with a small glare as Ace just shrugs.

“What’s your theory?” Trey asks the headmaster. He tries not to sigh in annoyance as Crowley begins to coo and play around with his quote on quote “grandchildren”.

“Ah! Didn’t the kids say they all saw a bunny before waking up here?” You frown.

“Bunny?”

“Rabbit!” Emma corrects.

“All the kids have mentioned seeing one” Trey says.

“Do any of you guys remember what else happened?” You ask. All your kids turned to you. Some think and others just as confused.

“I-I remember” You all turned to Felix who slowly went a bit red after seeing everyone’s attention on him.

“Oh now thinking about it, the bunny did lead us somewhere!” Young Alice chirps.

“Where did it lead you my dear?” You ask softly. She smiles as you caress her hair.

“The bunny led us to a hole!”

“A rabbit hole” Felix adds.

“Ah! So some sort of portal!”

“Did all of you also get led to a hole?” Deuce asks curiously. Emma's eyes light up as she nods.

“Yeah!”

“The rabbit had my ball! So I went after it” Aiden says. Slowly all the kids tell their side of the story before being transported here.

“But I don’t get it, how do they go back?”

“Mm, seems like there must be something else to this” Crewel says. Brows furrowed in deep thought.

“For now, I think it’s best that you guys take them in and care for them while me and Crowley find a way to return them safely at home” He says.

“So we’re babysitting?!” Ace screeches. Deuce smacks him upside the head as he scoffs.

“That’s your kid! Maybe you should’ve wrapped it before tapping it”

“Deuce!”

“What? It’s true!”

Now then…..these next few days are gonna be interesting.

To be continued?

[keen-li]

All Aisle Ever Need | jjk

chapter: 1/ ?

summary: You decide to take a risk and sign up for a program where you marry a complete stranger. You’re surprisingly okay with the idea—excited, even—though the occasional nerves still creep in. This could either be the best or worst decision of your life. Still, the mystery of it all feels thrilling, and you've made peace with not knowing the man you’re about to marry. No matter who he is, you’re ready to go through with it.

But on your wedding day, as you walk down the aisle, something makes you squint. There’s something familiar about the man standing at the altar. And then it hits you… you know him. You've made promises to yourself before, so many of them broken. This won't be any different...shit.

pairing: Jungkook x fem reader.

story type: series.

genre: There's-something-i-don't-like-about-you to lovers, second chance au, slow burn, angst, fluff, smut.

rating: m. Mdni

wordcount: 8.2k+

warnings for chapter: troubled parental dynamics/figures. It's implied that they are both grown, Jungkook is older than reader(the age is subjective). cussing. found family. none really from here on.

A/n: though of this whilst watching MAFS. i've been in a burnout and this got me out of it?. please don't ask me if it's a happy ending story(i'm not saying it is or is not.) I just feel if you ask me that then you're not really interested in the story.

anyways I hope you enjoys it.

date: 25/04/25

story under cut.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You've always bought the same type of clothes, jewellery, produce as well. Why would you need anything else when you enjoy what you have.

And maybe that’s why you’re in the position you’re in now.

You should’ve been smarter and known that emptiness would follow you soon enough.

 If you had taken the leap sooner--stepped out of the one-way route to love--you’d already be where you’re trying to force yourself now.

You would’ve realised that maybe what you’re looking isn’t in the men you find pleasure in.

You'd be getting married conventionally, and not having to sign up for some program.

Comfort comes cause the type of man you want is hard to find. He’s either already married or behind his desk overworking himself.

There is a little ego-death, just a little. Having to confront yourself on the type of man you want when you're at your limit is humbling. It should be something you know about yourself already.

You're not best at caring of yourself of late. When was the last time you had a self-care? You're still alive so it's fine.

Just like your type; you've been stuffing yourself behind your desk any chance you get.

But before your wedding you swear you’ll have a day to care for yourself. Physically at least.

You’ve been shaking your head for coming to this point, but your solace is in hope.

Putting your chance at love in someone else’s hands—someone trained, someone professional—might actually be the smartest move you’ve made in terms of relationships. That way, your own traits that have gotten you nowhere won’t come into play.

None of your past relationships have ever seen daylight because of how dumb you end up feeling for indulging in them, for believing they could be more.

They could never see the sun, let alone could they see the conversation of marriage.

You’ve tried to bring up the topic of marriage, and immediately they turn it down or change the subject. After that, you never bring it up again.

Honestly, after experiencing enough of that, you quit on the idea of commitment. Maybe you were stupid for wanting that.

What does marriage have that you can’t get from a simple relationship bound by an unstable verbal agreement.

You could definitely survive on that, right?

That’s what past you got by saying to herself.

You gave up on getting attached. It was just hook up and get out. None of them ever wanted anything serious, so you became that too. But it was never fulfilling, you thought that would be your answer. But it's not who you are.

You went on and it wasn’t long until you felt the emptiness of it all. And you had enough.

But still, somehow you still got stuck with the bro type. You'd like to blame lust but your therapist would like to blame your fear of being alone. You get her point but you don't think it fits your case well. You've never felt lonely or been afraid of it.

Anyways, you’ve dealt with that type for so long and you conclude if was just lust.

So, many of the guys following your frontal lobe development, have told you that you were too much. But all that meant to you was you knew what you wanted and they were not in the same frame. You have goals.

Now you want something serious and someone serious too. Someone who knows what they want and where they want to be in the future. Someone who’s going to have a plan immediately they see you. Because you do.

“I have to tell you guys something.” You clear your throat calling for your friend's attention.

Taehyung's head snaps to you. Jisoo on the other hand meets you with her eyes first.

You’d been hanging out normally, just chatting, laughing and catching up.

No moment was perfect enough to say what you wanted to, so you waited. But you’d been laughing and getting carried away with connected stories that the moment was not getting perfect enough.

For a moment you contemplated procrastinating the news. But if you procrastinated this any further you’d end up having no one at the venue.

So, being presented with the opportunity when a silence settled. It was now or never.

You want lie that it’s excitement, but there’s nothing exciting about the dryness in your throat.

You watch taehyung, seated on a stool elbows leaning against your island, and Jisoo standing next to you, walking from the fridge to the sink. Shit you have their attention.

That’s what you wanted. Speak.

You’ve been friends with Taehyung the longest because you were at the same high school, and you met Jisoo in university because you were in the same dorm and happened to be doing the same program. You all got along as a group and stayed that way. So, being there for each other through most life events, you have to tell them no matter how nervous you are.

And knowing them, what you’re about to say is far from  what they expect.

Due to the serious and nervous undertone in your voice, they stare at you closely, inspecting your awkward tucking in of lips. Normally, Taehyung would be quick to say something witty about your behaviour, but he’s silent, only making you more nervous.

You release your lips and suck in a breath. “Okay... promise not to judge?” You warn, watching them both, but focusing more on Taehyung.

“What the fuck are you 'bout to say?” He narrows his eyes at you like he does when investigating you about a boyfriend. Does he think that’s what you’re about to say?

“You’re not going to judge?” You ask once more for good measure but it serves to irritate them. You chuckle like it’s amusing. Nothing is amusing, not after you tell them.

“At this point, we will.” Jisoo exclaims with a laugh, and Taehyung follows.

"Yeah, we might just."

Feeling the non-existent pressure on your neck, you pull your mouth open. “Fine.” You mumble to yourself for encouragement. There’s no going back; you’ve already told them there is something to be said. “I’m getting married.” It comes out quick and rushed, if they hadn’t known you like they do it could’ve been sworn you had just spoken gibberish.

They look confused. Do you repeat yourself?

You probably shouldn’t have started it that way. You could’ve started with  explaining  the program. Cause now they think you’ve lost your mind.

The two stare at your empty ring finger, then at each other, and then back to you, hoping you’ll clarify with a mocking laughter at their foolishness.

“What?” you say fumbling with the finger. They look at you like you’ve finally lost your last marble.

“To who?” They thunder in unison, confusion dripping from each syllable.

The reaction doesn’t shock you, and you don’t judge the question either. But little do they know you’ve been wondering the same thing as well.

“Well, I don’t know that part, but...” you feel a little ashamed to say it because they will think you’re definitely crazy now. You’ve never been the type to do something like this. They knew you wanted to get married, but not this much.

“Do we need to get you on medication?” you're not on any medication but the words still spill out of Jisoo’s mouth with concern and shock.

Your news has, Taehyung sitting up with folded arms, his eyebrows knit so hard they could touch.

“You barely have a boyfriend, what do you mean marriage, babes?” You turn your head away from Taehyung’s eyes. This is embarrassing.

It’s true for them it’s quite the jump, but if you could just explain yourself...

“You're hiding a boyfriend?”

A boyfriend? it’s comical.

After your nervous laughter dies down, you elaborate. “No. I signed up for this thing where you get married to a stranger.” You explain, your hands waving as you speak. It’s something you always do when you’re defending yourself.

As you process the words to use, you realise it does sound not like you. You’d definitely react like the same. “It’s called Married at First Sight.”

“Wow.” Is all that you get back. What the hell do you do with that?

“I got picked, which means I’m getting married.”

“To a random guy?”

 You nod, lips folding again.

Telling your friends makes all this feel so real. You still can’t believe you signed up for this, let alone that you got picked. Something in you hoped you wouldn’t get picked because 1. what are the odds? And 2. maybe if you didn’t get picked, it would be a sign from the universe that you should just sit your ass down.

Your fingers fumble with the marble of your counter. As much as you’ve seen their reaction, you still don’t know what they think and it's making you feel more embarrassed. If they don’t support you or want you doing this, what the hell would you do? What if they think it’s stupid. “What do you think? You’re making me nervous.”

“I mean—how do you feel?”

“I’m okay." You scoff. “But I’m going into this so blind. And I kind of hate the feeling. But it’s nice to have the weight of finding a match out of my hands.” But having the control out of your hands is not like you, so that’s where the nerves are coming from as well. Cause what if they don’t give you what you want?

“Why’d you sign up, though? could’ve set you up with this guy I know.”

You appreciate your friends setting you up on blind dates; you really do. But they never go well, which is not on them but more on the guys. Surface level, they look like a match for you, but mentally and emotionally, they couldn’t be further from what you want. Maybe you need to look deeper than the superficial, which is honestly what this program is doing for you.

“Those don’t go well for me. You know that.” They do.

Did you mention that Jisoo is engaged? You’ve never seen her happier. She wasn’t even this happy when she graduated.

And you want that too. You’ve always thrown yourself into school and work to suffice for the love you weren’t able to feel. And growing up you always relied on academic validation. But it could only carry you so far after you hit every milestone and still felt nothing. The only thing that came close were the relationships. Situationships.

“You really want to do this?” jisoo coos.

“it’s not so bad to try"

“If they give you what you want.” Taehyung intersects.

You hope they do. “I wrote in detail, so they better.”

You have no clue what criteria they go by, but it couldn't be something contrary to your asks.

You get excited thinking of the perfect man for you standing at the end of the aisle. Like, gosh, you’re going to be so happy. Your stomach flutters already.

“They probably know what I need though.”

“Yeah. But you still want the basics, like—” Jisoo doesn’t even have a chance to finish when you cut in.

“Oh yeah... tall, smart, a man with a plan type of thing.” You feel so childish for being so excited about this. But it’s more about the excitement of having the perfect man for you. You try not to picture his physical appearance because you might end up disappointed if you linger on it for too long.

Taehyung and Jisoo smile, listening to how excited you are. If you’re happy, they are too; that’s all they care about. That what what think of and not that this is the most conventional way to go about it.

Returning to your cooking, you decide to dig more into their thoughts. “What do you guys think I need?”

Feeling experienced, Taehyung takes the lead to share. He’s heard and seen a fair share of your crushes and boyfriends and how it's ended, so he feels like he knows what you’d like. “Definitely a business-style, you know. Sleek back hair, tall, nerdy.”

“Is that what I give off?” You chuckle a brow raised. Embarrassed. You've definitely grown into that assumption.

You do. You’ve always been the academic type and Taehyung’s parents always trashed him for not being like you. Even though he wasn’t even a bad student. You always made him look bad. But that's all to say you’re smart and a work focused person,  so you need a man who is the same.

You also like to be control. Whether that’s knowing all the tiny details of an event, or planning all the trips. As much as he benefits from it, Taehyung is definitely sure you use it as a coping mechanism for something.

“You need someone who can take control.” He adds.

"But still obsessed with her." Jisoo chirps in and Taehyung couldn't nod harder.

It would be nice to have someone to do things with. But an obsessed man? You're not sure. You want him to love you but shouldn't be too overbearing.

“I feel crazy for doing this.” You bite your lower lip, letting your worries out a little. “Like I’m seriously going to get married to a stranger.” You believe it less the more you say it.

“It’s not the conventional way, but you know we’ll be there for you no matter what.” You warm into Jisoo’s rub on your back. You’re trying to mask your true nerves with excitement; you doubt it’s fully working, but you’re trying. “As long as you’re happy And he makes you happy.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Taehyung promises, sounding more like a threat to your groom.

You seem serious about it and it must be if you got picked. So the only power he has is to be there for you as a friend. Its honestly not such a bad thing, if he wanted to get married he'd think of doing it like this too. It more thrilling. And there’s nothing Taehyung loves more than thrill.

Having your friends feels comforting, and it’s all you need. Really. But with how serious this is, you’re going to have to call your family soon, and you’re not ready for that. The idea raise the bile in you.

Unlike your friends, you have no clue how they’ll feel. You haven’t spoken to them in a while but the last thing they’d be thinking to hear from you is marriage. The last you remember none of them thought you were marriage material.

It's out of courtesy that you’re even telling them. But no matter what they say, you’ve already been picked, and you are getting married.

“it's still crazy though.” this isn't how he imagined this going. But he should be the last person calling you crazy when it’s the only thing he knows. But you get it; it’s out of your character to do something like this. But who knows you could find what you’re looking for outside of your comfort zone. It’s not 100%, but you’re ready to take that risk. “Imagine you marry an ex...”

Taehyung is not helping soothe you. The thought has crossed your mind before.

“Don’t scare me,” you brush off the thought with a hand on your chest, and they both can’t help but laugh. It would be so funny if you walked down the aisle and it was one of your stupid exes. Gosh... you’d walk out immediately, no question. “Don't think they would be serious enough for marriage.” They’re all probably out there still being reckless and whatever.

“What if he doesn’t like something that you like?”

“Don’t know" you chuckle "But I’d be damned if he doesn’t want to listen to my playlists.”

“Ouu, he’d be a gone man if he didn’t like your mugs too.” You know Jisoo’s being sarcastic; for some reason, everyone dislikes your mugs. The designs specifically. But you like them, so he would be damned if he didn’t like them.

“I mean, we have 3 months until we decide whether we want to be together or not....”

“Would you want to get divorced?”

You don’t even want to think of that. Divorce is not something you think about or want to think about. You know how much you hate it and how it affects children. You don’t have kids with the man, but still, you just hate divorce. It feels too much like failure.

“I hope not, but if he’s completely unreasonable, then I’ll have no choice.” You wouldn’t want to fight for something that bears no fruit. But you pray that’s not going to be the case. It shouldn't be too bad.

“I just want to like him, and I hope he likes me too. I would want this to work out.” You stare blankly at your hands. “I don’t know if I’d be able to look for love again after this.”

You’re being to dramatic but that’s because this feels like all you have.

“In that case, let’s pray he’s the one.”

You all go quiet for a second. The pot on the stove starts to bubble.

“This is real,” you murmur.

And somehow, that thought is both terrifying—and thrilling.

--

“Namjoon, what do you think?” He’s the only one who’s been quiet about what just came out of jungkook’s mouth.

It’s not the idea of Jungkook getting married to a stranger that’s concerning (Though that’s its own thing.) It’s more about the idea of Jungkook getting married in general.

“I mean—do what makes you happy. It’s not the conventional way...” Namjoon begins, and Jungkook can’t help but roll his eyes at how serious his friend is being. He’s not surprised, though; Namjoon has always been the more serious and mature one between the two. Unlike Jungkook, Namjoon has always known what to do and when to do it. He is the kind of guy with structure, but Jungkook, on the other hand, is more of the go-with-the-flow kind of person.

He does things on a whim, reckless with who he goes out with. Relationships have always been fun for him; he never took them seriously. That was until he sat with himself and looked around. All of his friends were settling down and were not available to go out. One was having a child, the other was getting married, and standing at the altar as a groomsman so often, had him worried about what he was doing.

He watched his friends fall in love and be so happy; he wanted that too. Could he have it too? The bro lifestyle he was living was not going to give him that.

He hid behind hookups so much that he hadn’t realized he did want to settle down, find a nice woman, and live that picture-perfect life, he saw his parents have.

And it was time for that. So, by chance and through his coworker, he stumbled upon this program and signed up.

He wasn't going to get picked, so it wouldn’t be so bad if he did try.

He never had much hope in it; like, how would some experts know from a form who to pair him up with? It was a scam to him. His plan was to go out and meet ladies the usual way, but even they didn’t see him so seriously; he was just a hookup to them too. It did hurt him. But honestly, they weren’t wife material anyway.

Jungkook has always liked doing stuff that people would call crazy; it made him happy. So being told that a match was found and he was going to get married to a stranger didn’t make him nervous at all—if you exclude the seriousness of marriage though.

“Come on, hyung...”

“I wouldn’t put this past you, so I’m not surprised. I’m just worried if you’re ready for this. I don’t think you realize how serious it is.”

It’s not shocking that Namjoon stares at Jungkook with such distrust; he himself doesn’t trust himself fully. But he wants to. Because how can a wife trust him if he doesn’t?

 Nothing will convince him or others that he is serious and growing, other than through actions. And that’s what he intends to do. Namjoon may not trust him now, but when he sees how serious he is, he will.

“I’ve grown, hyung, don’t you think?” Jungkook sips his beer, staring at his friend. Having this conversation at a bar may not have been the best, but it was the perfect moment to do so. Though jungkook has never cared about perfect timing.

Namjoon lets out a puff of air. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s not supportive. “You have, but this is a serious commitment, Kook.”

He doesn’t need to be told once more how serious this is; his brain can do that just fine.

 “I know. But I’ve reached that point where I want to settle down. I’m ready to get serious.” It’s definitely something he never thought he would say. “I want to show that I can be serious, you know? I want to be like you, Seokjin.”

He pats the man on his shoulder, and he can’t help but feel honored to be an inspiration. Seokjin was one of the first to get married and is now expecting a child. Jungkook envies that—the ability to feel stable enough to bring in another life. He wants to be stable too. Have a little mini him to play around with.

Who the hell has he become.

“I think it’s good you want to settle down, Koo. I just hope you’re doing this for the right reasons and not just to prove yourself,” the oldest begins. Seokjin doesn’t think he’s some wise man, but he can confidently say he has the most knowledge on this among all of them. He does support his friend and thinks it’s great he’s doing this, but something in him fears he’s in it for the wrong reasons. “I mean, it won’t only be you. You’re merging your life with someone else—someone you don’t know to add. I wouldn’t want you to drag her feelings into a journey of trying to prove yourself.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Because the truth is, part of him doesn’t know truly why he’s doing this. And not knowing is something he hates nowadays.

This is where Jungkook’s second thoughts root even further. He fears that—fears dragging someone along into his flawed perception of self. But it’s not what this is about, and even though he doesn’t mention it, he does want to find someone to love and someone to give the love he hasn’t been able to give his past lovers.

“I get what you’re saying, hyung, and I promise that’s not the case. I do want to care for the person too.”

Seokjin nods, taking a sip of his drink. “That’s good. You are growing,” he mocks, and they all laugh.

“The not knowing what’s ahead is a little off putting, I’ll be honest.” Jungkook doesn’t stare at his friends but rather analyses every bubble of air in his drink that rises to the surface. They rise fast, then disappear. Like everything he used to think love was.

“Do you think you can do it?”

“I think I can... I want to.” He finally looks up to stare at nothing in particular.

“The first step is the commitment, so if you have that, then you’re good.” Jungkook nods; he should probably be taking notes on what Seokjin is saying. “Oh, Namjoon, you’re going to be the only single one.” They all laugh, but Namjoon only chuckles.

“It’s scary how you’re still single.” His friends see him as the perfection of what a woman wants: tall, smart, a man who knows what he wants. It’s all what women describe, but still, the tall silver-haired man has never taken dating seriously, nor does he hook up. It’s concerning.

“It’s because I want to,” he replies, taking a drink of his beer. And that’s all they’ll ever get from him.

“So what are you looking for, Koo?”

They shouldn’t even get him started on this. He’s never really known because he’s never really thought about it. But of late, the answers have been coming in like ants—tiny but a lot. “Um, just someone outgoing, you know... likes to have fun.” He won’t burden them with all he’s been thinking because some are just stupid stereotypes. “Someone who likes to go out and try new things, likes to have fun.”

“Jungkook? a party girl?.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes; maybe his previous preferences slip into his ideas of who he wants, which is not good. He wants something new, something he’s never had. Because what he’s had is not what he needs. So maybe this will be different.

“No... listen. I like going bowling and stuff like that, you know? So I hope she would want to do that with me.” He smiles, trying to defend himself. “When I get married, I’ll quit the club too.” The additional sentence causes a roar of laughter among his friends, drawing attention from other bar-goers. Seokjin does go out occasionally, but the difference (especially with his wife’s due date approaching) has been significant.

The laughter dies down.

“Look at him acting like he’s grown.”

“I am grown... I’m going to be a husband.” It’s surreal for him to say.

“She needs to be strong to handle you.”

“I’m not that bad..”

--

The most exciting thing about this whole thing is finding your dress. You’ve been looking at dresses for a long time so you would like to say you know what style you’re looking for, you’ve been thinking of this since you were in middle school so you should know. You’re grateful your taste has grown out of the poofy ballgown phase.

Cause of the context of the wedding you want something simple. Clean. Intentional.

 And Jisoo knew of the perfect store to go to.

Most women find their dress months in advance, but you’ve got a week. A week. So this has to be it. Today  should be the day.

Picking out the dress is the only part of this whole process that feels like you have control over, so you’re throwing yourself into it. And with that comes nitpicking. A lot of it.

You step out of the dressing room in your fourth gown and face the mirror. It’s a beautiful dress. You loved it on the rack. But now, wearing it, something’s... off.

“Why don’t i feel something?” you ask, running your hands down the dress draping your figure. You turn to your friends, looking for validation. “I’m supposed to feel it, right? Isn’t that a thing?” you aren’t sure if it was a myth, but you’ve heard that when you find the right one you’ll be able to feel it.

“You should.” Jisoo says gently, sitting up straighter at the sight of your face. She knows how sensitive this moment is for you. The time pressure, the stress, if you spiral now, it’s over. “What don’t you like about it?”

You stare at the mirror. Tilt your head. Bite your lip. Try to search for an answer.

“i don’t know i just dont feel like a bride in it.” You continue to feel over it trying to convince yourself but still nothing.

Maybe its cause you have no romantic connection with this man and hence you don’t feel like the conventional bride who can actually feel like she’s dress shopping with a purpose.

“Then we try another,” the stylist says with an encouraging smile.

You hope you don’t sound like a bridezilla because this is the fourth dress you’ve tried on and don’t like. Your stomach churns.

What if you don’t find one? What if you end up walking down the aisle in something you hate cause you weren’t able to find ‘the one’ in time. You can’t wear something that doesn’t feel like you. You’re not a person very particular about clothes but this is your wedding dress in question. It has to be perfect.

“Hey...” Jisoo comes to your side, her hand warm on your arm. You feel your shoulders drop just a little. “Don’t pressure yourself. We can come back tomorrow.”

You nod, but the thought makes your chest tighten. You don’t want to come back. You want to feel it now.

“Can I try a few more first? Just in case?”

“Of course,” she says, like she never had a doubt.

You head back into the dressing room. One more. Just one more.

Walking back into the dressing room and getting into another dress. You’re praying this will be the one or good enough at least.

“Fucking hell yn...” Taehyung whistles.

That’s new. He didn’t react like this for the others.

“You look so gorgeous babes.” Jisoo adds with a blushing smile as you walk onto the pedestal to finally see what they see.

The dress in terms of material feels great. It’s soft on your skin and it pours down your body like liquid. Without even looking at it you’d say you feel comfortable.

Once you take in your figure in the mirror, you can fel the tears sting the corner of your eyes. You definatlety feel it. You feel that feeling.

With the other dresses it felt like they were wearing you, but for this one, you’re definitely the one owning it.

“Gosh.. it’s almost too perfect to be marrying a stranger in.” You state still enamoured and not believing that the reflection is you.

“if this dude doesn’t cry or fall to his knees when he sees you i’ll beat his kneecaps in.” Taehyung expresses and when you look at him through the mirror you catch him tabbing a tissue at his eyes, jisoo too. Gosh now your tears are falling too.

“Come on guys.” You try to say through  a sniffle. “you’re making me cry.”

Sniffling and patting at your eyes with a tissue you try to collect yourself.

“on a serious note. You look gorgeous.” Taehyung says, folding the tissue in to his palm. “you look beautiful. I should’ve married you instead. This guy doesn’t deserve you.”

You choke out a laugh, knowing he’s joking. You and Tae never looked at each other like that.

“If we were getting married, I’d wear sweats. Jeans if I’m feeling fancy.”

“Ouch,” he gasps, clutching his chest. Jisoo snorts. “Is that all I am to you.” He’s way more than that. He’s everything you'd ever want to dream of in a friend.

“i hope this dude realises how much he’s won with you.” Jisoo says softly.

“If he has two eyes, he will otherwise we’ll fight.” Of course it’s tae saying that.

“Why do you hate him you barely know him.” you say causing the man to pull back in defence.

“I’m just setting boundaries.”

He’s always been protective. You can’t blame him.

“But how do you feel?” Jisoo asks.

You take a breath. Let the silence hold for a second. You take in the weight of the dress, the way it fits, the way it makes you feel like maybe this whole thing won’t be so terrible after all.

“i love it.” It comes out soft but it says all that’s needed to be said. “i think it’s the one.”

Cheers erupts in the room the room, and your heart feels light for the first time in days.

You laugh through your tears. “I’m gonna be a Mrs. Something.”

“I just hope he’s got a good last name, at least.” Taehyung grins.

You hope so too.

But that’s one of the many things you’re choosing not to think about. Not yet.

--

Jungkook has never woken up early for anything. And the last thing he ever thought he’d be waking up early for was his wedding.

“You ready for today?” Seokjin says bascally aready dressed while Jungkook walks around in his sweats.

“As ready as i can ever be.” His eyes don’t leave the suit hanging on the wall. Gosh how would he have found one if he didn’t have his friends.

“You sure? You’re too calm.”

“Not everyone’s gonna be in panic.” Namjoon chimes in.

Seokjin’s wedding morning was definitely chaotic cause of how the man panicked.

 Though at the time he never thought of it seriously, Jungkook worried that it was custom to panic like that and he’d panic too. But even still he feels too relaxed, last night’s drinks might have something to do with it. When Seokjin and namjoon had gone to sleep, and jungkook couldn’t, he's only solace was the liquor cabinet. He hopes it’s not obvious. Cause he can fool his friends but his mother might be able to catch it, no matter how hard he’s brushed his teeth.

“it’s good to atleast show some of your nerves.” Seokjin moves to the counter to pour some drinks. Jungkook gags at the smell of spirit. “You can’t be perfectly relaxed.”

Can’t he? It is possibe for him to not be worried about anything. He doesn’t have to be having doubts and fears for this to be real. He doesn’t.

“I’m fine.” He groans, rubbing his face and reaching  for the suit hanging on the door of his room. He's fine...so fine.

Seokjin doesn’t dig in deeper. And one thing the older does know is that no matter what, Jungkook must be feeling something and his silence about it might be proving what Seokjin thought. Thinks.

“Did you send the gift?” he turns to namjoon worried about one thing.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook wanted to make a good impression so he hopes the gift does some apologising if you’re able to notice he's fucked up face.

“Can you help me with my tie?” He knows how to do it. Has been doing it for school for so long. But for once he just wants to feel like she’s involved in something he's doing. Something positive.

The drooping look on her face is discouraging enough, but he tries.

“You’ve been doing it for so long. Do you really need my help?” She says not even looking at him, and yet again he feels the embarrassment.

Clearing his throat, he turns to do it himself but his dad replaces his hands. “I told you guys, you didn’t have to travel for this.” He says lifting his chin up a little for his dad.

He was fine with them not coming, and seeing that they lived so far away it would’ve been an inconvenience. And it’s not like its a wedding his mother would want to attend anyways; so he didn’t  want to waste their time.

He was perfectly fine with them not coming.

“it’s your wedding why wouldn’t we come?” His father says patting down the tie and arranging his collar. It's almost as if it’s his first day at school and his graduation again. He hopes he can do this for his son one day too.

In a whisper away from anyone else his father speaks. "I want you to enjoy today. And whoever she is I want you to give her your all. Love her more than you love yourself, more than you’ve ever loved anything.”

His eyes are sincere as the words are spoken. His father isn’t emotional so even that soft fall of his brows is a lot. And it’s all Jungkook can ask for. “She's gonna love you too, I know it. You’re a good kid.” He pats his shoulder.

He can cry...no. So he sniffles the waters away.

His father has always been a good husband. And that’s who he wants to be as well, no matter who he marries, no matter how difficult she could be.

His parents have been the ideal couple in his life for a long time. And that doesn’t change no matter what.

Everything is silent for a moment as jungkook sinks into what’s about to happen today. It’s only until a voice breaks his serenity.

“Namjoon!” his mother calls out playfully with a glass in her hands, she doesn’t even drink.

Namioon flinches and turns to her smiling awkwardly.  He's never known how to act around her. “When are you getting married? Sure there are so many woman dying to be hitched up to a perfect guy like you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and tells namjoon he doesn’t have to answer.

But his mother won’t let that be.

“Not anytime soon Mrs jeon.”

The laugh she releases is sharp and demeaning. But it’s not directed to namjoon. “You see? People who wait to find a girl the right way.”

When Jungkook’s gaze meets hers, he has to remind himself she's the woman that birthed him.

“You didn’t have to come you know that?”

“Come on. You want me here, I’m your mother.”

Contrary to popular belief...

“You’re such a handsome boy, why do you want to get married. You’re wasting your time.” She starts.

She should be praising him for seeing the value in getting married and maturing to the idea. But no...

Jungkook puffs out a breath. The room has been silent since his mother began speaking. And he drowns in it. There's a lot he could say.

Instead, he throws the jacket on and teases at it a little in the mirror. Some are unnecessary touches but he does them anyways. Feeling ready enough he steps away but before he walks out further he looks at the woman sat on the couch.

“If you can..,try your best not to speak to her, okay?”

--

“Did they call?” Taehyung’s voice is almost none existent in your field of thoughts.

It’s only when he repeats that you catch what he said. "no.”  You say no energy in your voice. “but it’s fine...their loss.”

You toss your phone on the couch a little too harshly, just wanting to forget it. Forget everything.

You won’t and can’t beg for people who don’t want to be in your life. Informing them was just a courtesy, you didn’t want him here anyways.

Though it would’ve been great if they could just put their pride aside for you for once.

Taehyung wraps his arms around you. “Their loss. Just know you’ve got us.” He nudges at your temple with his nose.

“Yeah, you’ve got people who care and that’s all that matters.” Jisoo hugs you too and now you’re sandwiched between them. It reminds you that no matter what, you still have people around you who do care and want to support you. So if those people who you thought would want to see succeed didn’t want to be here then it’s not on you. You have your friends.

“let’s finish getting ready guys.” They brush them away playfully and immediately your hairstylist is quick to working on you.

 “So bossy.” You roll your eyes at the remark. “Gonna give this guy a run for his money.”

It doesn’t matter. You cheer to yourself.

Nothing else matters today, you’re getting married and you don’t need to cloud your thoughts with negativity. You wouldn’t want your husband to see you all gloomy. That’s not gonna to be your first impression.

You smile.

All you want to do right now is walk down that aisle. Nothing else matters.

“Did i mention a little something came in for you in the mail” jisoo’s voice comes in excited but you aren’t able to turn cause you’re on your final steps of getting your makeup done.

“huh?” when she stands in front of your eyes fall in the object in her grasp. “What’s that?” you eaxclaim with a smile taking the box onto your lap.

“Open it.” She exclaims, more excited than you.

The tiffany and co logo on the box is evident when you unwrap it. You can’t help but smile from ear to ear. You haven’t met him yet and he’s making you smile this hard? Once it’s open you’re met with a silver locket and bracelet. You’ve gotten gifts before but you have no clue why you’re blushing so hard for this one.

“oh my gosh these are so cute.”

“tiffany and co too...” Jisoo adds, immediately rushing for you to put it on cause it would look good with your dress.

Taehyung watches from across the room, already dressed. “Anybody can buy that.”

“hater...” you and Jisoo choir.

--

Seokjin made it clear for him to behave when he sees your family. He has no clue what he thought he would do, because as much as he’s outgoing, In front of the in-law's he’s a dove.

He’s trying to be calm and act like he’s ready and been ready, but he can’t deny the cold sweats that threaten to run and mess his suit. This is the most trust he’s put into anything. All he’s praying is that it works out.

He’s a fucking groom.

Jisoo sits watching him closely, he is handsome and somebody you would find handsome too. But something she knows you’ll be worried about is probably his personality. He looks like the opposite of what you want and all you’ve been running away from. But who knows with you nowadays. He could be a good guy though.

“Hello.” Jungkook waves to your side. From all he can see, there’s a woman probably same age as him, could be a sister? Friend? Next he sees is an older lady probably the same age as his mother. That could be your mother. The rest of the crowd is filled with 2 people.

Not many people, but t doesn't matter. He wouldn't invite anybody too, if he didn’t have to. Maybe you're too embarrassed to be marrying already.

He's eyes can't stay on one spot. He tries but it's painful.

When he turns to his side, Seokjin and namjoon smile at him, it helps ease whatever he’s feeling but immediately his heart tightens up watching the person sat next to his father whisper into his ear..

What the hell is she saying? Is he standing up straight? Is he smiling enough or too hard.

--

This is the craziest thing you've ever done. The bravest too.

And—God, you hope—it’s the last wild thing you’ll have to do for a while.

Breathing is something your body usually handles without question, but now it needs supervision. You have to consciously pull air into your lungs, or you won’t make it down this aisle walking.

You have no idea what’s waiting at the end of it.

What if you’re not attracted to him?

Worse—what if he’s not attracted to you?

What if you’re not what he’s been hoping for?

“This still feels like a dream,” you mumble, looping your arm around Taehyung’s. He smells like cologne and nerves. What the fuck is he nervous for.

“You ready?” he asks gently.

No, but you nod. “Yeah.”

The gentle music of a live plays as people  stand and you walk, still not in view yet cause if the infrastructure. Its a small venue but sill manages to make you feel like you’re drowning.

As you walk and get closer you try your hardest not to look at the one thing you’re most curious about.

So your eyes choose to scan the venue instead—the warm fairy lights, the soft music, the flowers. You knew the production team would go all-out, but you didn’t expect them to go all out for you. It’s perfect.

You’ve never felt this special in your life. Twelve-year-old you couldn’t have imagined this moment. Even though this isn’t the love story you thought you’d get, the feeling is still here, blooming in your chest.

Who says he can’t become the love of your life?

Jungkook's eyes are wide when they land on your.

From your soft smile to styled hair amd the the dress that falls down your body carefully, he watches every detail. He can’t look anywhere else. He swears his heart was just in his chest a moment ago.

Jungkook watches the person walking you down the aisle, he’s a younger guy. That’s interesting. A sibling?

From all that he’s imagined he could get, you were not on the card. But he'll take it.

You’re more than he bargained for.

You walk slowly, soaking it all in. Nearing the arch, you finally allow yourself to look at the man chosen for you.

And—shit.

He’s… handsome.

You eyes squint.

He smiles as you approach, so at least he doesn’t seem horrified. That’s something.

Taehyung shares a nod with the man, nothing warm or cold behind. You hug him before he walks to his seat, clinging for just a second too long. Then, it's just you and him—your groom. You can’t meet his eyes for more than a second. And it’s embarrassing.

You’ve been on debate teams, presented in University projects and in meetings at work. Basically you’ve had eyes on you before and it was manageable...but these? They burn.

“Hi,” you say, voice small.

 You glance toward his side. A good amount of family. One person stands out—tall, silver hair. Probably a groomsman.

Your groom is attractive, sure, but not your type. Tattoos?, the way he stands—he looks like someone you tried to avoid.

You hate how superficial that sounds. But the thought won’t leave.

At least he’s taller than you.

“Hi,” he replies, equally nervous. Then leans in. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You look nice too.” You eye him down, eyes narrowed.

If this were a blind date, you’d already be knee-deep in awkward small talk. But this? This is… bigger. It requires bigger questions.

“Let me take that for you.” Jisoo’s whisper interrupts. She takes your bouquet and you almost refuse, needing something to keep your fingers occupied.

“I see you got the jewellery.” His voice is as light as the pale blue sky. It’s odd to compare it to a colour but that how it feels. His voice reminds you of the blue sky you’ve stood under so many times wondering if your soulmate died. There’s still a possibility of that.

You glance down. You’d worn it and forgotten. It had become that comfortable. That familiar. But now with the recognition, you can feel the cold silver touch every part of you. You can feel it sway and graze you every turn you make. Even the smallest action causes movement.

“Oh yeah. Thank you.”

“You’ll have to thank my groomsman too. He helped me pick it.”

He looks over at Namjoon, who immediately looks like he wants to disappear.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. It might sound like he couldn’t handle it alone. But truthfully, Namjoon just knows more about…well, this kind of thing.

“Thank you, groomsman,” you direct a more warm smile to the man.

Namjoon mumbles something, but you don’t catch it.

Turning back, you stare a beat longer when your eyes catch he's features. You bite the inside of your cheek. His face—it’s not common. Not forgettable.

And yet…

The officiant steps forward. Time for the official part.

“Yn, meet for the very first time, Jungkook Jeon. Jungkook, meet for the very first time, Yn Y/l/n.”

His name hits you like a church bell.

“Jungkook?” you repeat sounding a little shocked, like you didn’t hear it right the first time.

He chuckles nervously. “That’s me.” Do you not like his name?

Your stomach drops.

You know him. The name. The face. It clicks.

Your nose works over time pulling in air. You can't open your mouth, cause you might just puke.

Shit—does he know you? He doesn’t seem like he does.

Is this real?

The man you remember wouldn’t be standing here right now. Does she have some polar opposite twin or something?

You rub your arms and wish you could blame the AC for the chill. But that's all on him.

Glancing at your friends. They have no clue what’s happening inside your head right now. They don't know how fast the room spins.

Where do you put your hands, what do you hold onto?

None of them know about him. He’s the only one you've never told them about. And they sit there waiting for you--with smiles and excitement--to marry him.

You made them come here. They smile for you. They support you.

You asked them to be here for you. You wanted to do this.

What a waste of time. You should’ve known.

To add-on, as you look at your friends for a second time you stop at a face you were not expecting and hadn't noticed. How did you miss that? A face that had told you she didn’t want to be here, well not her specifically but mainly on behalf of your father. But what the hell is your mother doing here? She said she couldn’t come.

What the fuck is going on. Collect yourself,  you don’t want to look like you’re about to faint. Even though the overwhelming review of information could just kill you right here.

But it’s okay. You still have time to walk away. Walk away from everyone.

You thought this was going to go well.

You hoped it would.

But now?

This is not what you wanted.

-

-

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/n: 😏😏 what did you think? I hope you liked it. Please don't ask me if it's a happy ending story(i'm not saying it is or is not.) I just feel if you ask me that then you're not really interested in the story progression. I will try my best to post frequently (I've been working on 2 as well) so just hood your horses.

anyways I hope you enjoyed.

same time next week?

Lets discuss in the replies 🖐😊

taglist: @lovingkoalaface @granataepfelchen @jksusawife @notsevenwithyou @llallaaa @kmpj9 @lryf @smileyshaven @dragonflygurl4

note: to join taglist just inbox.

every note, reply and reblog is appreciated.

let me know what you thought of this chapter. do you think she'll marry him?

[gatorbites-imagines]

Sinners Remmick x male reader (preferably poc) where is a singer at the juke joint and Remmick sees him and tries to seduce him lmao. But male reader is low-key insecure of his singing tallent + kind of shy and Remmick finds out and is like "????? what do you mean" because male reader is like so good at music, and Remmick has to uplift him lmao.

you can make thiss smutty if your up to it

Remmick x POC male reader 

Headcanons 

Hate to admit, I dont know much about POC culture in America. I'm European, and we barely even mention America in history class. This also means I don't know a lot about African American culture, especially during the 30s and in the south. 

This means I won't be mentioning a whole lot about the times, cuz I don't know enough about it, and I wouldn't want to be disrespectful. I would love to read about it though, if yall know any good sources. 

Not as smutty as I had hoped, but hope it's good anyways 

You knew the Smokestack twins, as much as anyone around here did. Maybe you even knew them a little more than most, enough to know the truth about their father. 

Music had always saved you when times got tough. It started out as you simply singing to yourself, humming tunes that came from somewhere deep within. Then it became a harmonica that Stack had stolen as a gift. 

From there it advanced further, flutes, a banjo, a guitar, over the years you even learned the piano, and more devilish instruments, if Sammies father had to be believed. 

Music was all you had though, be it during the war you were drafted into it, and when you returned to the state to learn your mother had died, leaving you on your own. You didn't sing much anymore though, in public at least. 

You were still close with Annie after all this time, and you two would sing together at times. There were times she invited you over to sing for the very fact that you seemed to call only the good and wanted spirits. 

Part of you wanted to be mad when Smoke and Stack appeared, dressed as finely as they were and speaking of opening a juke joint of all things. For leaving, and all that. 

Stack had always been able to sweet talk you though, and when Sammie jumped into their truck, you followed, lugging your own guitar with you. It was old and patched in many places, but you loved that thing. 

The party was in full swing, and everything felt so alive. When you and Sammie sang together it felt spiritual, like something you couldn't put into words. It was an otherworldly experience. 

One that left you sweating and your legs shaky. It was easy to stumble over towards where Annie was serving up drinks, to let Sammie embrace all the attention for now. 

You were already known as the guy who could play most instruments, and could sing like his life depended on it, but that was all you could do. And even then, you never felt like it was good enough. 

You had been distracted with your drink and conversation to know what had happened at the door, of the white folk who claimed to hear your singing and had felt compelled to join. 

You hadn't caught how Remmick had craned his neck, trying to look above or around the group blocking his vision, trying to find “that other beautiful voice”, after he had paid attention to Sammie. 

Whatever Smoke saw on his face, he didn't like, and he had been itching to grab for his gun. It made an uncomfortable clammy feeling run down his spine, like it was something he wasn't meant to see. 

When the strangers left, the party returned to what it had been before, for the most part. You were still sweating and woozy, your shirt sticking to your back under the strap of your guitar. 

It was then that you decided that you needed some fresh air, all these people were making you itchy, and everything was starting to be too much. 

You waved at Stack and Mary as you passed them, giving them both a look up and down as if saying “just get on with it you two” as you trotted outside. Cornbread patted you on the back as you passed, as in his words, it had been too long since you let yourself go like that. 

Seeing the three white folks seated out by the front made you slow down though, there was something off about them. You were still far enough away so that you couldn't see Remmick's nostrils flare, or the way his pupils expanded at the sight of you. 

You were always weary when you knew you needed to be, you couldn't play white like Mary could. Somehow you still found yourself waved over, sitting down on the log beside the man you learned was named Remmick. 

“You must've been that other voice we heard all the way out here. You have a real gift” he said, voice almost reverent as he leaned in just a little closer, eyes boring into you in a way that made your hair stand on end. 

“Oh, nah. I'm not that good, it's all Sammie” you laugh, feeling flushed as you look down, hands messing with the strap of your guitar. Compliments always made your skin crawl, it didn't feel like you deserved them. 

“No, it was all you. Compared to him, you? You were like an angel” he exhaled, voice raw and raspy like a church goer who had been praying all day and night, Remmick's hand touching your upper back. 

Joan and Bert melted away into the night, not that you noticed, too busy staring at your feet as Remmick saddled closer, both his hands sliding over your body as he came so close. 

His breath was strangely metallic, it reminded you of the smell of old nails, or how it felt to chew on a fork for too long. “You bewitch me, how do you do it?” was murmured, his voice feeling... more. 

You should have gotten up, yelled, ran back inside the juke joint, anything. Not only were the both of you men, but he was white, it just made no sense. 

But still, Remmick's lips brushed against your neck, a shaky audible groan leaving him as he inhaled you. You couldn't have known that he was also feeling your racing pulse against his lips, and how it made him yearn and ache. 

“Sing for me?” he asked, voice thick like honey as he started kissing down your neck, Remmick's hands pulling your guitar into your own. It was sensual, the way he guided your fingers to the strings, intimate and heady. 

It was almost impossible to form words, this all felt like some kind of wild dream as Remmick's hands so expertly undid your belt and buttons, the Irishman sliding to his knees in front of you. 

Your eyes flicked from his burning look, towards the juke joint not that far away, but even as Remmick kissed at your growing hardness, nobody seemed any wiser. 

“Come on. Please? I'm on my knees beggin you and everything” he rasped, tongue flicking against your wet tip like one would a popsicle. 

All you could get out was a breathless yelp as he swallowed you down whole. Some sick part of your brain reminded you of a time where you saw a snake swallow a rat whole, that was the fervor he gulped you down with. 

Remmick held you there, throat flexing around you as he stared up at you, eyes so intense and unblinking, waiting for you to do as he asked. Sing, give him what he wants and needs so badly. 

Your fingers were shaking as you strummed the strings of your guitar. This was all wrong, this couldn't be real, but Remmick's mouth was so slick and hungry around you as the shaky words left your throat. 

If you had had any past experience, you might have noticed that his tongue was too flexible, or his mouth was too cold. It wasn't icy, but clammy, like waking up with a cold sweat.  

And it was wet, so incredibly sloppy and wet. Hearing and feeling him try to slurp up all his frothy drool around your length as you struggled to form verses and play your tongue was downright demonic. 

It seemed the more you sang, the hungrier he got. If you hadn't been shaking in your boots you might have worried about Remmick choking himself with how he gagged you down, his hands gripping the back of your thighs like a lifeline. 

There was no way the noises you were letting out sounded good, and the clumsy twitching of your fingers ruined any tune you tried, but it lit an unseen fire inside the man sucking the soul out of you, so you kept trying. 

Had you not been sitting down, you would surely have collapsed as you tumbled over the edge, your fingers scrambling at your guitar as your body locked up, a half-formed verse melting into an embarrassingly loud moan. 

But no matter how loud you got, nobody inside or outside the juke joint seemed to notice what you two had been up too, even as Remmick audibly gulped your release down, moaning like it was ambrosia and honey mixed into one. 

You hugged onto your guitar, like a blanket you would hug for comfort, as Remmick pulled back, moving slowly enough that you could feel the tight clenching of his throat a last time. 

“See? Gorgeous. Perfect” he gurgled against your thigh, looking at you the same way a cat looked at a mouse, licking your seed of his spit-soaked lips as he rose to his feet. 

“You just need to see it from my point of view, then you will see how great you are. Hold still for me” he whispered, moving closer until his lips hovered above your neck again. 

“W-whuh?” you get out, head still all steamy and thoughts all jumbled, your soft spit shiny length still hanging out of your slacks, trying to understand what had even just happened. 

You barely felt his lips kiss your neck before he struck, tearing into your sweaty salty neck like a vulture upon a carcass. Your scream as cut off with a gurgle as he pushed you back, pinning you against the ground as he feasted upon you. 

You should have trusted your gut, as much as you loved Smoke and Stack, they always brought trouble. It had never been like this though, being feasted on by a man who had just feasted on you in another way, just to hear you sing. 

A thought passed through your mind as everything was turning dark. Would you still be able to sing after the way Remmick ripped into your neck? But that was a dumb thought, you wouldn't need your voice anymore after you died. Right? 

[starseclipsing]

ִֶָ࣪☾. | Sinister.

ᥫ᭡. Part two! (Part 1 here)

Tags: canon-typical violence, pwp (porn with plot), cunnilingus, oral sex (f receiving), interrupted sex, sinister mark is his own warning.

Silently, you read on your soft, large bed. The one that you’d told Mark to get you after he had kindly snapped the last one’s framework in half.

Afterwards, you’d tried to convince him to sleep on the pull-out couch downstairs. Unfortunately, he had thought you were making a less-than-clever joke. 

Even with the window closed shut and the curtains drawn, you could still hear the destruction and the screams of agony from outside; and it was creating a serious detriment to your train of thought. You can’t focus if you’re rudely interrupted by a cry or a pained scream after reading a single sentence. 

You let out an annoyed groan when you hear a goddamn gun go off, and decide to take matters in your own hands. Or rather, dump them on Mark. 

You place your bookmark with little cats on it in the page you’ve stopped, a paw extending to point to the last sentence you read. Then, you hop off the bed to draw open the curtains and open the window. You don’t bother to direct your gaze downwards, where the murder and destruction occurs. 

“Mark!” You call out loudly. You wait for a few seconds, keeping an eye on the sky as you wait. Your expression warps to a more annoyed the longer he takes. “Maaaark!” 

Amidst the polluted sky, you see something like a sonic boom approach from far away. When he’s a couple hundred meters close, he steadily slows down, angling his feet forward to slow himself further. Till finally, he’s face level with you. 

“Yes?” He says with a grin. 

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting here forever.” 

He sighs, “Baby, I was in Rome. You know how far away that is?” You roll your eyes, “Pretty damn far away.” 

He leans in through the window and plants a kiss, “If you want, I can take you with me right now.” He says musically.

You shake your head and smirk, “Lovely offer, but no.” Then, a frown takes place on your lips, leading you back to the reason you called him, “Mark, I can’t pay attention. I'm trying to read that stupid book, but I can't.” You gesture to your ears, “Everything is so loud.” 

In that exact moment, an explosion goes off. Mark genuinely thinks about it for a moment, offering a solution, “So, do you want to live somewhere more remote?” 

“No. I don’t want to live in a wasteland.” 

“So do you want me to kill everyone here?” 

“But then who will I talk to?” You complain. 

He sighs, “Can’t you just deal with it?” You frown, and he eats up his words, “Okay. Fine, fine.” You can practically see him roll his eyes, even with his ridiculous goggles. “But I want pasta for dinner.” 

You pout, “That’s what we had last night!” 

He grins, “But not from Italy.” 

He gives you a last, parting kiss, and then darts away. You nearly tip over at the force of it, then wipe your lips with a groan. You close the window and shut the curtains. 

For a few, particularly annoying moments. There’s nothing but annoying loud noise. You try to keep your mind off of it by plugging in your headphones and listening to the songs you’ve saved. 

You walk over to the bookcase in the room, pristine and untouched. After the fiasco a few nights ago, you refused him when he wanted to put it back in its original spot in the living room. Instead, you decided on keeping the nook close to your heart, and you. In the bedroom. 

You run your fingers across the rows of books. By the time you find that same, slightly tampered with book, the noise has dispelled, leaving you in a comforting silence. You hum along to the song as you open the book. 

The book that you are fairly sure that you hadn’t possessed before your fight. You don’t know what had compelled you to look for a book you didn’t own that night. But somehow, you knew you needed that book, and you knew it was just within your reach. 

For some strange reason, the man that had opened a portal to your dimension –Angstrom Levy– was not keen on grabbing your Mark by the scruff and chucking him to a lovely reality he can ruin for his own enrichment. Or, that’s what you thought the idiot’s thought process was. Who the fuck knows what he’s thinking, really. 

The book is on how dimensions work, how people that can open realities do that, and most importantly, how people who can’t inherently create a hole in the fabric of reality, learn how to. 

Interesting stuff. 

On the armchair near the bookcase, your legs are pulled to you and you drape a blanket over your lap. You take a sip of your warm cup of tea and set it down on the small coffee table next to you. 

You open to where you stopped, and begin to read. 

You have read this book more than a few times over the last couple days since you discovered it’s existence. During that time, you’ve found it’s less been a long read, and more a tough read. You’re trying your best to wrap your head around the idea before you even begin to attempt it. Because you only really get one chance. One chance to get rid of your Mark. And if you fail? Well, then you can kiss kicking Mark’s ass out of this reality goodbye. 

The entire late afternoon, you spend it in your reading nook, repeating over and over what you have to do to open a portal to a different reality. 

When seven o’ clock strikes, you hear the familiar click of the front door. And before you could even lift your face to see, you’re met face-to-face with Mark. 

He sees the book you’re reading, “I see you’re making good use of your time.” He kisses your cheek, “I’ll take a quick shower and meet you downstairs. I won’t take too long.” You suppose the last part was meant to be a threat. 

***

At the dinner table, you twirl your fork around the spaghetti, then push the spikes of it into a meatball, before putting it in your mouth. As you chew, you hum pleasantly. 

He watches your expression with a keen eye, a grin on his lips at his triumph. “See? I told you it wouldn’t be cold. You just like to complain.” 

You swallow. “It’s a little cold.” You don’t want him to think he did an amazing job and get too full himself. 

He throws his hands up and furrows his eyebrows at you, “No! It isn’t!” You just shrug. 

The rest of the dinner continues to be a series of cutlery clinking with each other as you silently eat. Per usual, Mark’s face is screwed up into a frown.

“So,” He tries to start, “How’s the book you were reading going along?” You look at him with an eyebrow raised, and he groans, “The one with the angsty guy.” 

You sigh and correct him, “Angstrom.” You take a sip of wine, it’s painfully good. “And I already told you, I can’t open a portal. It’s impossible. You have to be born with it.” 

You fall into yet another uncomfortable silence. And the cycle continues with Mark trying to speak up, “Well, what about those other books you were reading? The one with the dragons and princesses and whatever.” 

Each time, you respond as curtly as physically possible, and the dinner ends with you throwing the dishes in the garbage. Because who does dishes at the end of the world, anyway? 

Without needing to be told, you hop on the marble counter and let Mark slip between your legs. He holds your hips as gently as possible (for him, anyway) as he kisses your lips. But as the kisses become more heated, his grip on you tightens, and you repress an annoyed sigh. He’s such a goddamned brute it’s almost aggravating. 

He picks you up by the back of your thigh without cutting off the kiss, a show of his strength. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him kiss you on the table where you were eating at. You let him suck at your lips against the living room couch, and you let him mark your neck against the stairs, before finally carrying you up into the bedroom. 

Along the way, there is a mess of a trail of clothes. He throws you onto the bed and takes his underwear and pants down in one go. He kicks them away and crawls to you, planting kisses down your neck. 

“You’re so fucking…” He grabs your waist tightly, “bitchy without even trying.” He bites the column of your neck harshly, then again on the other side. You yelp both times. “You know how goddamn annoying you are?” 

He’s taking his frustrations out on dinner, and every dinner, on you. And you won’t have that. You slap his back, he shudders, “Either do it right or get off of me.” You grit. 

He just groans, “God, I hope that leaves a mark.” He kisses down your body. Starting from the middle of your chest, to your stomach, all the way down to your pelvis. With how impatient he is, it doesn’t take long before he plants a wet kiss directly on your folds. Your thighs instinctively cage his head. He snickers. 

“Oh…” He chuckles breathily against your cunt, making your spine shiver. “Missed this fucking cunt.” 

You don’t, or rather can’t, comment on how it’s only been two days since the two of you last had sex, because he decides to put his face directly into your pussy, licking at it. His mouth finds your clit, and latches on it, sucking. 

You immediately grip his dark hair, moaning. Your breath turns ragged as he leaves your clit a sensitive, puffy mess. “D-Don’t tease.” You grumble, but it sounds more like a whimper. 

He licks a stripe along your folds in response, “Baby, I’ll do whatever the fuck I want, ‘cause this is my pussy. You fucking got that?” He licks along your folds insistently, making you squirm. 

When you don’t reply, he slaps your hip, “You got that?” and you nod immediately, amusing him. As a reward, he slips a finger inside your wet core, and your breath is caught in your throat. 

Without bothering to let you get used to the feeling, he starts to slip it in and out. The lewd squelching sounds please him, and he returns his attention back to your clit. 

“M-Mark–” You barely say, your leg jerking, “Wait–” 

He takes that as an invitation to slip a second finger inside of you, making you gasp. He crooks them, trying to find your most sensitive spot, and he catches it when you scream. 

Determined to make you cum, each thrust of his fingers lands on your g-spot. Your head thrashed against the pillow, and your body jerks, trying to get away from him. But you’re pretty sure you’d cry if he did. 

He takes turns sucking on your clit, and marking your inner thighs. Every movement and jerk makes you flex, and he grips your thigh, “Stay fucking still, yeah?” 

You try, but it’s asking the impossible. Mark goes down on you again, eating at your pussy with renewed fervor. Curse viltrumite stamina. Or bless it. 

You feel the feeling in your stomach boil over, and you barely have time to warn him before he makes you come with a scream. You cry, and your cum lands on his mouth, making a mess, and he eagerly laps up your release. You breathe quickly, your thighs squeezing around him so hard his skull might bash in if he wasn’t superhuman.  

Eventually, you come down. Though your breath still comes in sharp inhales as you try to calm yourself. You realize it’s impossible with Mark still in between your legs. You try to push him off you as he licks at your inner thigh, “Mark—” You whine, “Enough. Stop. It hurts.” 

With one last lick, he finally gets up from between your legs. His tongue darts from his lips to clean them of your release. He crawls on top of you and kisses beneath your jaw, his hands going to feel your body up and down.

“Well it’s about to hurt a lot more. Because you’re such a sweetheart, and you’ll let me finish inside of you.” He squeezes your waist, “Won’t you?” 

Your cunt automatically pulses like a sleeper agent, and you feel the waves of arousal come back to you in an instant. Yes, the fuck. You are a goddamned sweetheart. The sweetest, even. 

You can’t help yourself from wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, which he responds to with a pleasant moan. He grabs the side of your head and sucks at your lips, like he’s trying to eat them. But you don’t care. You want to have him. And you want him right now. 

His tongue slips between your kiss-bitten lips, and you feel his hardness push against your inner thigh. So close, yet so completely far away. 

“Mark.” You moan, “Mhm?” he says back, and you take a second to lay back down, looking up at his sickly sweet puppy eyes. Pretty eyes that are clouded over with lust. 

You let out a sound that’s like a whine. “Please? Now?” He chases after you like a puppy, immediately connects your lips again. 

“Yea, mmm, fuck. Yeah, okay.” 

He rubs his cock against your inner thigh, and it barely grazes your core, making you whine. You’ll die if you don’t get to have him inside of you right now. You wrap your legs around the small of his back, letting him know. 

He continues to kiss you like he’s starved, practically trying to melt your lips into each other as he humps your inner thigh. 

You feel sweat cling to your skin and Mark’s breathing becomes more frequent. 

He sits up on his haunches and strokes the underside of his cock, his eyes rolling back atthe pleasure. You swallow, enraptured by his display as he pumps his dick right in front of you. “You want this?” 

You look into his eyes with as much desperation as you’re trying to convey: yes. Oh my god, yes. 

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, and he brings your thighs around his hips. You help him without hesitation. Your body racks with nerves and anticipation as you eye his dick. Excitement bubbles up in your core. 

Just as you think he’s about to slam into you as roughly as he always does, he’s suddenly snapped out of his lusty haze, his face becoming more alert as he glances around the room. He quickly turns his head up to look at the window. Wordlessly, he jumps out of bed with speed and peels back the curtains. 

You know better than to even call out his name, so you lift the covers up to your chest and try to see what he’s seeing, sitting up. 

From the exact opposite side of the room, there’s a crackle, and an otherworldly sound fills the room as a bright green portal opens up. Instantly, it casts the room in its unrealistic, brilliant green. 

It continues to swirl in on itself, as it had done that fateful night. 

Mark looks at you, as if you’d done that, and you snort, “Yeah cause i’d have enough concentration to warp reality while we have sex.” 

He groans, not at all pleased with the turn of events. “Well, if you’re soo concentrated, close it back up again.” 

“And what the hell makes you think I can do that?” 

While the two of you bicker, a figure emerges from the portal, and your eyes flit to it on instinct. Meanwhile, Invincible’s instinct is to pull back his fist, ready to kill. 

Your jaw falls open as what emerges from the portal is not like anything you’ve seen. It’s a man, with a large, gross-looking head. He wears an inelaborate suit with a dramatic red cape. You turn your head and frown in distaste. 

You’ve always associated Mark with being some kind of freak accident, but this guy clearly takes the cake for being a mutant abnormality. 

“Invincible.” He declares, and in your opinion, ridiculously. “I have a proposal.” 

So it seems that’s what mutants say instead of ‘Hello.’ these days. 

You squint your eyes at the man. He seems familiar, but at the same time not at all so. 

“Angstrom?” You say, before Invincible almost punches through his guts with a yell. 

Instead, he catches himself and merely shoves him to the wall opposite, creating a crater. He looks back at you, “This guy?” He asks incredulously. You can only nod. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, I'm sure you’re known for it.” Angstrom groans after being struck. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask against your better judgement.

“Well, I wanted to give you guys some privacy so you can finish up.” He looks to Invincible, “But I don’t have all day for you to get off, too. And it’s as they say, ladies first, anyway.” 

You could not believe what your ears had just heard and what information your brain just relayed to you. You’re pretty sure your vagina just shriveled up and died right there. 

It’s only then that you notice Mark stands with his dick hanging. Just like that. Just…like… that. 

Perhaps it is just a way of life that you will never understand men.

Angstrom relays to invincible the deal that had slipped out of your mouth the night of your fight. To no one’s surprise, he instantly agrees. And faster than you can blink, he changes into his black and yellow suit. 

The man with brains for a head goes through the portal without further delay, confident Invincible will follow anyway. 

Invincible floats in front of the portal, looking back at you with his usual, cocky grin. You must look like a fish out of water. 

“This probably won’t take longer than a few days, you know?” 

You nod, not sure what to say. 

“And it’s what we want, to expand the empire.” 

You nod again, wordlessly. 

Satisfied, he flies through the portal, and it closes up behind him without delay. Instantly, the room is free of the portal’s glimmering green glow, and it’s shrouded in the complete darkness it was in.

Seems that mutants don’t say hello, or goodbye. 

You get off the bed sluggishly and put on your underwear and your shirt. You go to your small reading nook that was only made recently. The book Angstrom had given you is still laid on top of your thin blanket. You take it, and drop it into the trash can. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

a/n: sorry to edge, next part will have p in v, yay.

Tagged: @onlybatsyy

[hawkinsoutcasts]

AND DONE! This took longer than it was supposed to, due to me getting distracted. I really like how this came out. :D

I'm gonna put my ramblings about my AU version of season 3 under the cut, so if you wanna read feel free to continue. Hope you enjoy!

So in the Hawkins Outcast AU, Season 3 goes in a different direction from canon.

-The Russians still come to America and build Starcort as a front for their experimentation with the Upside Down, but it goes horribly wrong. They fuck around with Demogorgon DNA and accidentally create a zombie-like creature that starts infecting people. This leads to a Demo-zombie breakout within the mall and forces it to be closed, with everyone trapped inside.

-While all of this is going on, The Party is trying to get through the summer, but fractures begin to form within the group. Between the kids becoming hormonally-strung out teens, and dealing with trauma from the past two years, The Party struggles to stay together.

-Mike's emotional issues become more prominent, and he struggles with his masculinity and sexuality. He tries to prove he's not some dirty homo and a "Real Man" by obsessing over girls and bottling up his emotions. He tries to pursue Eleven, but this falls flat. He also becomes uncomfortable with his confusing romantic feelings for Will.

-Will becomes moody, withdrawn and bitter due to his trauma from the Mind Flayer. He's unable to move past the pain and fear, and struggles to deal with the clusterfuck changes that come with adolescence. Between this, and realizing he's gay, he becomes an emotional time bomb.

-Lucas finds himself torn between his true self and who he wishes he was. He grows tired of being labeled a loser by bullies, as it affects his self-esteem. He becomes subconscious of his love for horror things, especially zombie movies. Using his enjoyment of basketball as an excuse, he begins distancing himself from the geeky things he loves. His insecurities affect his relationship with Max, as well as the others.

-Dustin tries to keep The Party together, though it becomes difficult after he learns about the Russians and the Upside Down nonsense hiding below the mall. He spends more time with Steve and Robin, more or less as a way to escape the oppressive drama within The Party. He also becomes preoccupied with his long-distant relationship with Suzie.

While it'd need to be fleshed out more, my idealistic version of Season 3 would still be themed around relationships, but focus more on the ideas of relationships changing. The zombie shenanigans at the mall forces everyone into a confined space where they have to confront their issues with each other, for better or for worse. In the end, after Starcort burns down, Hopper and Joyce decide to get together and leave Hawkins, feeling just slightly tired of the bullshit their families keep going through.

There's more I wanna share but ugghhhh I'll have to come back to this because this post is already way too fucking long. If you read all of this, I hope you enjoyed it <3 I'm gonna figure out a way to put together my AU in one place...Maybe make a google doc idk. We'll see.

[bwobgames]

She decides to hang out with a friend!

Which is. A bit of a shame since everyone seems to be somewhere else.

Which is why, the wonders of technology!

She looks at her phone and sees a clear lack of signal. So that’s how it is huh.

But, she also sees some unread notifications from a dear friend.

She puts the phone close to her ear and hears the first of multiple voice messages.

“Hey girl! How are things going? Please tell me if the train is any good I’m dying for a quick escapade. If I hear anyone else try to explain to me how the stock market works, I’m going to be on the news.”

“Is my baby okay? Did he shave that awful moustache? Please say yes.”

It’s Eva! Her friend from work!

A fellow young mind wanting to live it up in the world of business, although unlike Mari, she had some family capital with her already.

Probably why she always managed to stay cheery even while taking difficult business decisions.

Before Nina stepped in, Eva was her one ally in the rough path of maternity, picked up the slack when Eugene got bored of taking care of his pregnant wife, as he does. Although due to her international responsibilities, she wasn’t available as much as she wanted.

Until Eva suddenly showed up with a baby of her own.

They made a glorious system. When Eva had to travel, Mari and Nina would take care of Owen. And when Mari and Nina were too overwhelmed by work, Eva would look after them.

And of course, they all got to have play dates together!

She’s a bit envious on how easy Eva could take care of 3 children. The second Nina was out of the picture Marigold started to struggle.

It seems that pure unfiltered love is not enough to stop children from chewing cables.

It takes a village, truly.

Of course, someone of Eva’s calibre could’ve just paid a nanny, but she wanted Owen to grow in an environment full of friends.

And when he already got those friends, boarding school it is. A boarding school the three of them got exact knowledge on who the teachers, the directors and even the janitors are.

At this point, those kids have 3 moms now.

“By the way, tell Nina her cake recipe is a godsend. I fought myself not to eat more than one piece of it and I lost. That wife of yours is gonna give me diabetes!”

For a long time, Eva thought Mari and Nina were already married. Which made for a very interesting situation when she finally saw Eugene at the house.

She called the cops.

Eva doesn’t know what happened at the mansion.

And if it were for Mari, it would stay that way.

Owen himself might tell her someday, but secretly, she hopes he doesn’t.

Eva already lost her husband; she doesn’t need to know her son died too.

Died under Marigold’s supposed watch…

She lied to her. She said she doesn’t know where Owen’s sudden aggravation of his storm fear came from. She said she can trust her with her son.

She refuses to break that promise again.

“Also, also, did Vivi go or not? If she did tell her I said hiiiii! If she didn’t tell her I said byeee! Oh, the two lovely boys as well!”

Ángel got along with her, he even played matchmaker with a friend of his! That cheeky little man.

“Bring me something yummy! Bring cheese! And meat! And many many drinks because I have gathered so much gossip you wouldn’t believe!”

She needs that information now.

“Alright I’ll leave you be, I’ll be watching your stocks from the sidelines, don’t worry. And! I booked a trip for the telescopes I was telling you about! This time I will not be stopped by sudden emergencies I swear! We will have a fun star gazing bonanza I swear!!”

“Okay byeeeee! buy me something nice, eat well, don’t let Owen convince you I allowed him to drink, don’t attack people and relax for once!!”

She’ll try.

But first, time to respond

“I need that information. I’ll get any and all drinks necessary, I need it. And I’ll be holding onto that promise, I want some stars!”

“Also, the TV show you recommended? I watched it all in 3 days. Amazing. The second I get signal and a private room I need to discuss it with you, or I’ll explode”

“Currently Owen still has that moustache and I’m afraid his mind is not going to change anytime soon. My condolences.”

“Everyone says hi and they miss you! If they don’t say it, I’ll make them.”

And for a final message, something important.

“That is all, I’ll call you later!”

It’s always nice to catch up with friends, even with both of them being busy working women, they always find time for a tea break.

Which sounds like a great idea right now! Relaxing tea adventure!

Until a pink haired creature finds her.

<PREV START NEXT>

[bumbled-bees]

Getting Close Was What Set Me Free

(Or: Why I Do This Work)

So I've come to realize that getting close to Lily was what set me free. And by that I mean: the reason I was able to finally see Lily for who she really is wasn’t because I stumbled across some damning document or a big exposé. It was because I got too close to her to keep lying to myself.

I was in her server from June to September 2024. Three months. Not long in the grand scheme of things, but long enough to change everything.

Before that, I was just a casual fan. I watched her videos, nodded along with a lot of her takes, maybe rolled my eyes at a few. But I still trusted her. I still believed in the version of herself that she presents—the version that’s loud, unfiltered, “honest to a fault,” as she might say. Someone who’s rough around the edges but ultimately good-hearted. Someone who "says what everyone else is thinking." That’s the version she wants you to see.

And for a while, I bought into it. A lot of people do. Especially if you’re neurodivergent, LGBT+, or otherwise looking for a voice that feels like it “gets” you. She markets herself directly to us—those who’ve been overlooked, who’ve been hurt, who want to believe that someone loud and confident must know what they’re talking about.

But once I got inside that server, once I was in her space every day, I saw the real Lily. Not the polished version, not the performance. The person.

It started small. Subtle acts of condescension toward her own viewers. Passive-aggressive remarks she clearly expected people to just “get.” The way she acted offended if someone asked a question she didn’t feel like repeating herself on. That kind of thing. It wasn’t abusive in an overt way at first. But it chipped away at you. It created this atmosphere where you always had to tiptoe around her mood. And if you didn’t? Well, you were either ignored, mocked, or quietly exiled.

What really changed things for me was realizing how much effort she puts into controlling the space around her. That’s what it comes down to. Control. Everything is about control—what people are allowed to say, what kind of questions are allowed, what “tone” you’re supposed to use when addressing her. And the more time you spend in that environment, the more you realize that nothing you say is ever just a question. It’s a potential offense. A potential threat. Every interaction with her is a test you can fail, and she gets to decide the rules.

The incest game folder is when I started going back to old allegations, to posts I’d brushed off as “haters” or “drama.” And suddenly everything clicked. It wasn’t just “cancel culture” or “jealous ex-friends.” These were patterns. These were consistent behaviors. And they matched exactly what I was now seeing firsthand.

That’s when I got out. But that’s also when I realized how dangerous her grip really is.

Because if I’d stayed a casual fan? I wouldn’t have looked any of that up. I wouldn’t have believed the claims. I would’ve kept assuming that anyone who criticized her was just bitter or couldn’t handle a “strong personality.” And that’s what scares me most. How many people are still in that mindset? How many people are still where I was?

That’s why I started documenting. That’s why I made this blog. Not to “get back at her,” not to cause drama. But to lay out the patterns. To name them. To put them in the light. Because they are recognizable—and not just in Lily. The same red flags show up in other online spaces, in other creators, in other parasocial relationships. And if this blog helps even one person get out of a toxic space, or recognize that they’re not crazy for feeling like something’s off? Then it’s worth it.

I do this because I’ve been there. I saw it up close. And I got out. Now I want to help others recognize what I did—before they get pulled in too deep.

This isn’t a callout blog. It’s a flashlight. And I’m just trying to shine it where it’s needed.

[asteroshearts]

Postpartum Confinement

[Xavier (Shen Xinghui 沈星回 ) + Caleb (Xia Yizhou 夏以晝)]

In Chinese culture, mothers stay and rest for a month or more after giving birth to properly recover (zuo yue zi).

Warnings: Yandere themes for Caleb's

Zayne and Sylus

Xavier (Shen Xinghui 沈星回 )

The Yue Sao (postpartum care nanny) and her little assistant, Xavier.

You and Xavier decided to hire a Yue Sao recommended by one of your older coworkers at the Hunters Association, and now Xavier could always be seen shyly shuffling behind her around the house, ready to get you anything and everything you needed at a moment's notice.

Your coworker told you that she heard many horror stories about Yue Sao or in-laws being opinionated or strict, but she told you that this woman always asked her what she wanted first.

It was true, this woman was an angel to you, so patient, asking for your opinions, making jokes with you, saying things like, "Oh, you don't want to? That's fine!"

But with Xavier...she was Gordon Ramsay, and he was her sous chef.

No more midday napping for him.

While you rested or nursed the baby, you could always see him in the background mopping, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen, the bathroom, up and down the entire home.

Whenever his path would cross yours on his crusade, he'd always shoot such sad bunny eyes at you two... he wanted to nap with his baby too....

But the Yue Sao said you already did the brunt of the work, creating the baby for nine months, pushing them out, and experiencing the most pain you had ever felt in your life, what Xavier had to deal with was a molehill compared to your mountain.

But when she tried to teach him how to make you a postpartum soup...

["Um..." he answered awkwardly, "I don't think I should."

"Xinghui!" she scolded, and if he had bunny ears, you could imagine them drooping by now. He had normally been so above and beyond for you, so what changed? "What will happen when I'm no longer around? Who will make your wife soup?"

Those bunny ears seemed to sag even more.

"Are you going to make the mother of your child get up and make her own soup?"]

One hour later, you and your baby woke up with a jump when a loud BOOM came from your kitchen.

Your Yue Sao later apologized and swore to never let him cook again.

She later recommended some places you could order delivery from for meals specifically for postpartum women.

For some reason...why do I feel like he'd be really good at the massages meant to help you with lactation?

When the nanny tried to teach you the massage, you easily called Xavier over to learn too, as you trusted him.

He wouldn't find it awkward or weird, and would take up her lessons with seriousness.

He'd be the perfect mix of gentle and nimble, but he'd stare at your face as he'd do it, catching any microexpressions for any ounce of discomfort or pain. If the pressure was too much, he'd slow down or switch techniques immediately.

Being a nanny, your Yue Sao had seen far too many lazy, distant, or ungrateful fathers, so she was so glad to meet Xavier, who waited on you hand and foot.

As she mentioned that to him, a small smile appeared on his lips.

He didn't mind. As a knight, he lived devoted.

Caleb (Xia Yizhou 夏以晝)

A tradition where you aren't supposed to go outside, not meet with anyone else, and where all attention was on you and the ultimate proof of your love, and that you would never leave him, your child? Oh, he's over the moon.

Why should the zuo yue zi only be a month? He's telling you to make it three—five, in fact, you could stay like this forever.

Despite this, however, he doesn't trust anyone to properly take care of you and your baby. Not a random postpartum nanny, not any of the care centers, and you two had no in-laws.

He might not trust anyone, but that doesn't mean he would dare deprive you of any resource or help.

He puts it on himself to fill in the empty spaces and throws himself into learning about postpartum care, taking classes while you were still pregnant and constantly researching.

Some may say it takes a village to raise a child, but Caleb is all you need, hm?

Since it's just him doing all of the work, he wants to make sure that no stone is unturned, and falls deeply into believing postpartum superstitions and traditional medicine.

Feeds you bitter herbal stews and constantly talks about keeping the "heat" in your body.

You have to debate and argue with him that nothing will happen if you turn on the AC for just a bit in the summer, and can he please stop feeding you pork trotters!?

He's a bit sad too, though. It's just as hard for you as it is for him. Postpartum women aren't supposed to eat overly salty, oily foods, and he loves making you his famous braised chicken.

Washes your hair for you, cooks you every meal, and we all know that he's a pro at doing your laundry 😏, so the second the baby throws/spits up on you, he's there in a second with a fresh shirt and wiping you down.

It may seem excessive, but he'll say in his sweet voice that keeping clean is good for your mental health and how you view yourself.

But he'll love you no matter what. Even if you smell like baby vomit.

He takes over the night shift completely with your baby without you knowing, so much so that, for a while, you believed that your baby just didn't wake up in the middle of the night like other kids.

You had full eight-plus hours of sleep for months, and you were none the wiser that Caleb would wake up at the slightest hint of a whimper or cry from the crib beside your bed, feed the baby, rock them, and change diapers, all while you slept peacefully.

You didn't catch on until one of your calls with Jenna, she told you that it was improbable that your baby didn't wake up at all during the night, and perhaps one day, you should pretend to sleep to catch the act.

So that's why he asked you to pump so much.

Some women may beg for at least a 50/50 relationship with the father of their children, but for Caleb, 50/50 isn't enough. If he weren't human, and if he were made of machine and metal, he'd want to be built just for this. He'd make it so that you wouldn't have to lift a single finger, and he'd take care of everything.

[concreteangel92]

Can I please, please request a one shot from your post below, I need it biblically😂

https://www.tumblr.com/concreteangel92/778950918927433728/this-is-mean-dom-im-sick-of-you-acting-up-noah

Thank you, you’re amazing! 💕

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: mean dom!Noah, dom/sub relationship, degradation, PiV, recording someone during sex (consensual), brat taming, edging, spanking, slapping, slight spitting but not much

Thank you 🖤

This kind of request is always right up my street, mean dom Noah is my absolute favourite 🥵

Permanent Taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @bloody-spades @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou @concretejunglefm @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @xmads-omensx @chey-h @xxkittenkissesxx @lyschko666 @rumoured-whispers @renegadebirch @floodflameschosen @ami--gami

Let me know if you wish to be added!

Masterlist

You had been warned. More than once but you didn’t listen.

You’d gone to the studio to meet Noah as you were going out for lunch together.

But Noah being the perfectionist that he is, just had to get a few of the tweaks sorted on one of their recordings, he said it would be hour tops.

That had now turned into nearly 3 and you were annoyed and hungry.

As you were bored, you started to wind Noah up, it was small at first. Asking questions when he was trying to focus, pulling on the back of his hoodie playfully while he was talking to his friends, watching videos on your phone with the volume fairly high.

He warned you once with a low growl under his breath. “Enough”

And again with a sharp look over his shoulder, his own hands gripping onto his thighs in annoyance. You only smiled sweetly at him.

The rest of the band and crew appeared oblivious to what was brewing between you both, something you took full advantage of.

The final warning came after you sat on his lap to listen to the recording with him, grinding yourself subtly on his half hard erection in his joggers, you felt his hands digging almost painfully into your hips to halt your movements as he tried to hide a low groan that slipped from his throat causing Jolly to ask if he was ok.

That was it, you knew you’d gone too far.

Noah made a comment about being tired and that they should finally take a break.

Everyone cleared from the studio to go and grab some food apart from you, you went to walk out and you felt Noah’s hand gripping onto the back of your neck and bringing your body into his chest.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stood holding you in place and reached forward and locked the studio door. The silence was heavier than any yell.

You felt yourself being turned around to stare up at him, his gaze intense and fierce.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

“I…I thought we were going for lunch?”

Noah let out a small chuckle.

“Did you now? We would have been going for lunch but then, you decided you wanted to be a brat and act up in front of my friends. And what’s my number one rule baby?”

He was being so condescending, so arrogant.

“Don’t play up in front of them?”

He nodded. “That’s right. And what did you do?”

You shrugged casually, not being able to stop the bratty attitude.

“It wasn’t my fault that you didn’t keep to your word and kept me waiting like a dick”

*Smack*

Noah slapped you across your cheek, not enough to hurt but enough to put you back into submission as he threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled your head backwards so you stare up at his tall frame more.

“This attitude of yours is becoming very tiresome, seems I’m going to have to teach you a lesson in respect”

Noah turned you both around and pushed you face down into the mixing desk.

You gasped as your body hit the surface, the cool edge of the equipment digging into your skin. He kicked your legs apart with his foot, one hand holding you down by the back of your neck, the other sliding up under your top, nails scraping.

“Look at you,” he sneered. “Bent over like a fucking toy in my studio. That what you wanted? Attention like a needy little slut?”

He pressed his hips against you, just to feel you squirm. “You make one sound without permission and I’ll drag this out for hours.”

You bit back a moan as you felt him moving around slightly behind you.

He slid your leggings down slowly, deliberately, knuckles brushing your thighs like he had all the time in the world. But you knew better, he was playing with you. Cruel and calculated.

“No panties?” he murmured, amused. “Of course not. Couldn’t even behave for one fucking hour, why would I think that you could dress yourself properly?”

His fingers slipped between your legs, teasing, barely touching, never giving you enough. You whined, hips twitching, but his palm slammed down on your ass, sharp and unforgiving and no doubt leaving a red mark in its place.

“You don’t move unless I say. Now I’m going to record this little punishment my angel, is that ok with you?”

Your brows frowned. “Why?”

“You wanted to be such a disobedient brat and a distraction today that I figured you’d like to help me now, I want to record every sound you make so I can use it in the next recording”

You felt your core clench at the idea, Noah was no stranger to mixing random every day sounds into his music, but he’d never once asked you for this. The thought was intoxicating.

“Yes I’m ok with that Noah”

You felt his hand rub the skin on your hip lovingly, a far contrast to what was coming.

“Thank you baby, I knew you’d want to be a good girl and make it up to me”

You heard his phone being put down on the table not far from you and then heard him pushing his trousers down his legs.

His fingers came up once more to tease your folds as he leaned more over you.

“You’re already dripping for me” he whispered, dragging his tongue along the shell of your ear. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

He shoved your face down against the cold metal, your cheek pressing into the control sliders, the edge of a knob digging into your skin but he didn’t care. Neither did you.

Noah pulled back and you heard and felt as he spat directly onto your core and used his fingers to rub it in, causing a moan to fall from your lips.

*smack*

The slap to your ass cheek burned beautifully.

“Did I say you could make any sound yet?”

You shook your head.

*smack*

You bit back another yelp as he spanked you again even harder.

“Where are your manners princess?”

“No sir”

“Much better”

Noah then slipped himself inside your warm walls with no warning, stretching you out sinfully as he groaned low.

“Fuck…you’re so wet, you really are my needy little slut aren’t you?”

You pushed your hips back slightly.

“Yes, all for you”

Noah kept one hand in your hair and the other on your hip as he started a fast and brutal pace, his hips smacking into yours with each thrust, causing the controls to dig into you more as you tried to hold back your moans.

“Let me hear you now baby, I want to hear every sound”

Noah’s movements were relentless, each thrust harder and faster than the last, his hands gripping your hips as if he were holding you in place just to break you further. The heat of him filling you, the way his body slapped against yours, was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body trembled, the pressure in your core building to an unbearable point and you couldn’t stop the noises you were making even if you tried.

“Please…” you gasped, hands desperately gripping the edge of the mixing desk as your body rocked against it. “Noah…fuck…I’m so close…I’m going to…”

Noah suddenly pulled out and pushed away from you leaving you feeling cold and empty.

A sharp cry of frustration left your lips, your body aching, aching for release. “No!” you whimpered, turning your head to look back at him, eyes wide with desperation.

He stood there, his chest heaving, watching you with a dark grin.

“You think you deserve to cum after everything you’ve done today?”

He was teasing you, enjoying the power he had over your body, savoring the frustration as he tucked himself away and made himself look presentable again.

You felt tears in your eyes with how frustrated you felt but you knew better than to push him further when he was in this mood so you nodded submissively to him.

Noah came over to you and leant down to give you a tender kiss and stroked your cheek.

“You know I hate being so mean to you angel, but you have to be taught don’t you?”

You nodded.

“That’s my good girl, if you behave for the rest of the afternoon then I promise I’ll reward you later”

You felt a smile tug on your lips at his words and you nodded again and pulled your leggings up and tried to straighten out your hair that was no doubt a tangled mess.

Noah picked up his phone and you suddenly heard your own cries echoing around the room, your cheeks flushed red.

“That’s my girl, so cock drunk for me always aren’t you baby? I can’t wait to use this for the next record”