#i should think its no surprise that the first thing i draw while trying to wade through what feels like the end of my burnout is my sona

[glowettee]

✧・゜: how i'm learning to trust my creative intuition :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

i've been thinking a lot about creative intuition lately, that quiet inner voice that nudges you toward certain ideas or projects. for the longest time, i was absolutely terrible at listening to it. i'd get these little sparks of inspiration and immediately talk myself out of them. "that's been done before" or "you don't have the skills for that" or my personal favorite: "who do you think you are?"

sound familiar? thought so.

the thing is, i've slowly been learning that my intuition actually knows what it's talking about. those random ideas that pop into my head at 2am or while i'm in the shower? they're not random at all, they're my creative compass trying to guide me toward what truly lights me up.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ recognizing intuition vs. fear ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the first big challenge was learning to tell the difference between my intuition and my fear. they can sound weirdly similar sometimes!

my intuition tends to feel like excitement mixed with certainty, like "yes! this!" even when it makes no logical sense. it feels light and expansive, like opening a window in a stuffy room.

fear, on the other hand, feels heavy and contracted. it comes with a lot of "shoulds" and worrying about what other people will think. it's the voice that compares my chapter 1 to someone else's chapter 20.

i started keeping track of when these different voices would speak up, and slowly got better at recognizing which was which.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ creating space to listen ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

intuition doesn't shout. it whispers. and in our noisy, constantly-connected world, those whispers can get completely drowned out.

i realized i needed to create actual space to hear myself think. for me, that looks like:

morning pages: three pages of stream-of-consciousness writing before looking at my phone

solo walks without podcasts or music (just me and my thoughts)

intentional boredom: staring out windows, lying on the floor, letting my mind wander

reducing input before trying to create output (no scrolling before creative sessions)

it's amazing what starts to bubble up when you're not constantly drowning it out with other people's voices and ideas.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the "stupid idea" notebook ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

one of the most helpful tools has been my "stupid idea" notebook, a judgment-free zone where i write down every creative impulse, no matter how ridiculous it seems.

the name is intentionally silly to remind myself not to take it all so seriously. some ideas truly are stupid, and that's perfectly fine! but some turn out to be the beginnings of something meaningful.

the rule is simple: write it all down, evaluate later. this creates a safe space for intuition to speak without immediately being shut down by my inner critic.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ small intuition experiments ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your intuition is like building a muscle, you start small and work your way up.

i began with low-stakes creative decisions: which color to use in a drawing, which topic to write about in my journal, which route to take on my walk. when something felt intuitively "right," i'd go with it, even if i couldn't explain why.

gradually, i started trusting my intuition with bigger choices: which project to pursue, which opportunities to say yes to, which creative direction to explore.

with each small win, my confidence in my inner guidance grew stronger.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ embracing the "wrong" turns ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

here's the thing about intuition: sometimes it leads you down paths that seem to go nowhere. i've followed creative impulses that resulted in projects i never finished or ideas that didn't work out.

but i'm learning that these aren't failures, they're necessary detours. every "wrong" turn teaches me something i needed to learn or leads me to connections i wouldn't have made otherwise.

intuition isn't finding the most direct path; it's finding YOUR path, with all its twists and surprises.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ letting go of external validation ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

perhaps the hardest part of trusting my creative intuition has been detaching from external validation. when you follow your intuition, you might create things that don't immediately resonate with others or fit neatly into what's trending.

i'm still working on this one, honestly. but i've noticed that my most intuitive creations... the ones that felt most aligned with my inner voice, are ultimately the ones people connect with most deeply, even if the audience is smaller.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ a gentle practice ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

trusting your creative intuition isn't a destination, it's an ongoing practice. some days i'm better at it than others. sometimes fear still wins. but each time i choose to listen to that quiet inner knowing, it gets a little louder, a little clearer.

if you're struggling to trust your own creative voice, start small. create tiny spaces of silence. write down the whispers. follow the sparks of excitement. and be patient with yourself when you forget.

xoxo, mindy 🤍

[hattiestgal]

Sometimes you just gotta draw your sona all cute n done up for gender purposes

[sugawhaaa]

🥀HAN ONE-SHOT🥀

🍄•♡°[ trust me ]°♡•🍄

Warnings//genre:: SMUT! Mentions blood, Virginity loss, FLUFF, oral (f rec) fingering (f rec) handjob, body exploration, body worship, sm praise bro, protective hannie, protected sex,

Pairing:: SOFT!dom!Han x sub!virgin!fem!reader

A/N:: bro I wrote this in like...three hours but I think it's the best fanfic I have EVER written. Like he is so fucking sweet I wanna kiss him

Skz masterlist:: 💕

🎧::

Things between you and Han progressed surprisingly fast throughout your entire relationship thus far. You thought Han would like things to be slow paced but, once again, surprisingly he was the opposite. That's why you weren't overly shocked when he abruptly asked about having sex.

"I know this is kind of abrupt but we've been dating for a while so I was thinking maybe we could try..." He's very tense as he asks you, nervous to see your reaction. "Having sex? If you wanna," The way he asked made you feel so important somehow, like this wouldn't happen without your enthusatic consent.

"I mean I'd love to, but," You pause for a moment and Han looks intruiged, showing that you have all his attention. "I'm a virgin," You sigh and Han looks taken aback.

"Really?" There's a long pause as he processes what you said. "That is surprising..." He chuckles and you laugh at his comment. "I just thought, you know, you're so beautiful and attractive that some man must've approached you by this point," He explains and you shrug, not bothering to touch on the subject of other men. "I don't mind by the way! I could be your first, show you the ropes, and I'll be oh so gentle," He promises with a confident nod. "But I will wait until you are ready,"

"I never said I wasn't ready," You smile and he looks at you, wide-eyed, and his cheeks flushed.

"So...Do you wanna..?" He smirks, trying to contain his excitement. You nod and he smiles sincerely. "Okay, wow this is exciting okay," he chuckles nervously and shifts on the bed to face you. He takes your hands tenderly in his. "Are you sure?" He confirms and you nod.

"Absolutely," you smile and he blushes softly. "I can't think of another person I'd want to be my first, experiencing something like this with you has honestly been my dream, my fantasy, everything," you blush and look down as you confess your inner feelings. "I trust you," you keep eye contact with and he smiles sincerely.

"Thank you Y/N," he lifts your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. "Let's get you nice and comfortable first," Han gets you to stand up while he fixes the bed, making sure the sheets are flat without a single crease. He then turns the lights out before turning on the fairy lights in the room, creating dim and warm lighting for an intimate and romantic night. He then turns to face you again. "Now, shall we undress?" He smiles and you can't help but blush at his care for your first time, all his efforts to make you comfortable. "I'll start," he takes off his shirt and tosses it aside in the pile of laundry. He holds your hips and guides you to sit on the bed as he finishes undressing. "Should I go all the way or just to my boxers?" He smiles down at you and you giggle.

"Mmm all the way," you smirk slightly and he laughs.

"Alright my little minx," he kisses your forehead quickly before pulling down his sweatpants. You watch as the baggy fabric falls to reveal his toned legs, his thighs muscular from lots of training, but what draws your attention the most is the bulge in his boxers.

You had seen his bulge before, whether it was intentional or not. Almost every morning it's hard to keep your eyes off his crotch. "Do you wanna do the honors?" He offers and you blush, a little flustered by the offer but you can't deny that you want to. You hook your thumbs on the waistband of his boxers and pull them down, watching his cock slip out of its confinement. Your face flushes as you see him for the first time, your lip subconsciously tucking between your teeth.

He rubs your head teasingly, ruffling your hair. "Like what you see?" He jokes and you huff at him. "I'm teasing," he caresses your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the squishy skin he loves so much. He then sits down beside you. "Would you like to...touch me a little or undress first?" He puts a hand to your back, offering comfort.

"I guess I'll undress a little," you nod and take off your shirt and pants, leaving you in your undergarments. You notice hans eyes chasing your breasts as you set your shirt aside.

"Fuck..." he mutters softly and it draws your attention. "Sorry, sorry," he puts his hands up in surrender as his cock follows suit, standing up. You chuckle softly, brushing him off.

"Don't apologize, I like it when you get flustered," you nod before your eyes flutter down to his length, standing proud and tall as it twitches against his stomach. "Is it okay if I touch you?" You bring your hand to hover over his most intimate area.

"Y-Yeah, of course, baby, I'm all yours," he leans back a little, his arms propped up behind him, exposing his cock to you. You hesitate before making contact with his cock. You can feel the throb of his heat, the silkiness of his skin, the wetness of his arousal, it's all so erotic and enticing. He moans softly, his head tossed and hair falling back, before chuckling softly. "Your hands are so soft...I've waited so long to feel you baby," he smiles blissfully as you continue to explore him.

You feel around his hardness, taking in the size and length of it, and watch it twitch in your palms. You then shift your hand into an O shape and slip his cock through the hole. He lets out a shaky breath before smiling. "That's good, yeah," he moans lowly, his voice raspy in pleasure. You felt your blood rushing at the sight of him like this, hearing his moans and praise got you so excited. He brings a hand up to your head, playing with your hair. "You're so good to me," his eyes fluttered shut in bliss. "Go a little faster, please," he chuckles in embarrassment at his request. "Fuck, yes like that," he praises as your hand moves faster, effortlessly gliding thanks to his precum.

You began to feel more bold and confident in your performance thanks to his praise and reactions. Before you know it his body is twitching and acting on its own. "Keep going," he encourages, gripping the sheets next to him hard. You weren't sure what else to do so you just kept jerking him off faster and faster until he started letting out these guttural groans. "Shit! I'm cumming baby," he cries out his head thrown all the way back as his back arches, his legs twitching slightly.

Cum spurts out onto your hands and a rush of excitement courses through you. The lewdness of feeling someone else's cum on your hands and seeing him reach such a high peak due to your ministrations was indescribably arousing.

Eventually, he calms down, his breathing evening out as he chuckles sincerely. "You did so fucking good babygirl," he holds the side of your face to kiss you deeply as a reward. At first, the kiss catches you off guard but you fall into it, bringing a cum coated hand up to his shoulder. Your tongues mingle and twist around each other as he leans in closer to you. He rubs your thigh softly with his free hand before pulling back, his hand still lingering. He looks up into your eyes and you can tell exactly what he'll ask next. "You ready?" He tilts his head, his fingers drawing closer to your panties.

"I'm ready, more than ready," you blush, the puddle of wetness in your panties now obvious. He throws your thighs around his waist and he picks you up. He sets you on the bed, laying back against the plush pillows he coordinated to support and comfort you. He gently helps you remove your undergarments, making sure you feel worshipped along the way.

"You have such perfect tits," he admires your breasts after removing your bra, gently cupping the soft flesh. "So soft," he kisses your nipple softly making you release a little squeak at the new sensation. After giving your tits a little attention he moves lower, giving tender kisses to your tummy. He peels off your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside. You reflexively cross your legs, hiding your vulnerability. "Hey, hey, don't be shy now baby," he brings his hands to your knees, prying your legs open.

"I'm embarrassed," you admit and he stops, looking up at you sincerely.

"Why babygirl? I've been waiting for this for way too long," he whines and you chuckle softly.

"I just...I didn't shave or anything because I didn't know we'd be doing this anytime soon..." you explain and Han sighs, thinking of how to respond.

"Listen...I don't really care," he explains, instantly making your expression change. "If it makes you feel more comfortable to shave you go right ahead baby, but if you're shaving on my part or if you are simply embarrassed because you haven't shaved, don't," Jisung nods determinedly and you blush, a smile creeping upon your lips. "Now, can I please see this pretty pussy?" He looks up at you with lust-filled and desperate eyes. You nod with a smile and he smiles back, proud that you are now comfortable with him.

He pulls your legs apart to reveal your dripping cunt, he doesn't even pay mind to the curly hair there, more focused on the slickness of your folds. "Fuck baby," he moans before running a finger up your folds. "Look at this," he says in awe, loving the way you respond to him. "So wet, so cute," he brings his thumb up to your clit, rubbing little circles on it. "What do you want me to do babygirl? Finger you or eat you out?" He tilts his head, resting the side of his head against your inner thigh as he continues to play with your clit.

"Maybe...both?" You smirk playfully and he chuckles.

"Should've guessed huh?" He places a gentle kiss to your clit making you gasp softly. "Don't be afraid to pull my hair baby, I know you're gonna want to," he slithers a finger down to your slit, guiding it between your tight folds. "Deep breaths baby," he encourages, his words slightly muffled by your pussy. You nod and take in long breaths. His finger trails in deep, roaming around your insides, familiarizing himself with your tender spots.

He takes a long time, taking a lot of care into finding all those spots and paces you like before actually fingering you.

He curls to fingers simultaneously against that squishy spot that makes you squirm as his tongue flicks your clit but he takes a pause to speak. "If it's too much just tell me okay?" He quickly resumes his ministrations as you whimper and sob.

"O-Okay," you tug on his hair, the silver strands lacing around your fingers. You let out a loud whimper and blush at your own sounds, sounding so pathetic and lewd.

"Keep doing that, moan for me," he groans, getting lost in lust and falling drunk to your cunt. He fingers you faster, a bit harder as well, seeking more music to his ears. You finally cave in, embracing your lust and moaning into the quiet room.

"Jisung, I-I think..." you bite your lip, unsure of how to confess such a sensation.

"You getting close?" He finishes your statement for you and you nod, your lips quivering as your brows curl up. He sucks on your clit, the room filling with slurping sounds and the sound of your pussy sucking in his fingers. You feel this warmth trickling up your body as your head goes fuzzy, your body lightly twitching from the sensation. Your hips buck up reflexively and Han pulls you through the orgasm, drawing out every last strand of pleasure, before pulling back. "How was that?" He smiles and you're left panting, your head reeling.

"Fucking...insane..." you pant out and laugh softly, the rush of hormones making you feel above the clouds. He laughs at your fucked out state before kissing your forehead.

"Such a good little minx," he pats your hip softly, a form of praise. "Do you need a break or shall we keep moving?"

"I wanna keep going, I've never felt so good," you explain and Han creeps up closer to you, hovering above you.

"I'm so glad angel," he caresses your cheek. "I'm so glad I get to see you feel like this for the first time. The way your lips part, your body twitches, your eyes squinting shut, your little cries, they're everything to me," he rests his forehead against yours as he speaks softly. As he speaks you feel his cock nudging against your lower abdomen, hinting that he's growing impatient but he will always wait for you.

"Trust me Jisung, I wouldn't change a thing in my life as long as I got to be with you," you kiss him softly and he smiles bashfully.

"Please Y/N...let me please you," he reaches over to the nightstand, searching through the bottom drawer for a condom packet. He sits back on his knees, his cock standing up and front. He holds the packet between his teeth and tears it open, tossing the wrapper somewhere in the room, before rolling the condom on with ease. "It may hurt a little at first but I promise I'll take it slow," he lines his sealed cock up to your slit. "Ready?"

"Mhm," you nod, eagerly waiting for the impending sensation to take over you. He gently pushes his hips forward and the two of you moan in sync.

"Fuck," he curses as his cock makes it only about halfway through your pussy. "How are you doing?"

"It kinda hurts but I can push through," you nod, gripping his shoulders tight. He takes one of your hands, intertwining it with his.

"Squeeze it," he nods before pushing his hips forward again. You let out a cry, squeezing his hand hard as you feel him filling you up.

"Fuck," you curse loudly. "It hurts but it feels so fucking good," you throw your head back, your hand trembling as you squeeze his hand.

"Deep breaths babygirl," he then thrusts forward, his cock filling you up. You jump, back arched, at the sudden increase in intensity. "Shh, Shh, it's all in baby," he kisses your lower jaw softly. "You're doing so good," he rubs your thigh. At first, Jisung moves slowly, allowing you plenty of time to adjust, but the condom helps lube you up a lot and soothe the muscles. As soon as he begins to slowly thrust your head spins.

"Is it supposed to feel this intense," you chuckle as sweat builds along your forehead.

"I know it's a lot at first but trust me, I'll make you feel so good," he promises softly as his hips skillfully roll against yours. You claw at his back, your nails digging in as you fall to the overwhelming pleasure. You let out cracked moans and Jisung finds it hard to hold back, craving you more and more as he thrusts into you gently, but the he hears the most reassuring words he could possibly ask for in this situation.

"Faster~"

Your voice was soft, a quiet yet desperate plea and Jisung is not one to deny a lady of her wishes. He moves his hips faster, falling to his own lust. He thrusts harder, deeper, faster, all the things to make your head spin. Your body begins to shake as you let out squeals of incoherent lust and everything just comes pouring out of the two of you.

"Oh yes fuck baby!" He groans as he unloads into the condom, hips twitching into yours. The two of you ramble incoherent lewd words at the overwhelming pleasure before slowly coming down together. "So tight," he groans.

"Fuck Jisungie," your body goes limp against the bed, your body still trembling from the intensity of the orgasm. He pets your head sincerely, feeling the softness of the locks.

"You did so good," he breathes out. "I suppose I should pull out just in case," he chuckles before pulling out, you could hear your pussy clinging to him as he eased out. He removes the condom, tossing it in the bin next to your bed. "I'll throw that out properly later, way too fucked up right now. Besides I need to take care of you," he smiles before noticing the cum dripping out of your slit, a hue of pink in it, but you were unaware. "Um this is kind of awkward but just so you know you're bleeding a bit," he says as he sits up next to you, pulling you into his lap.

"Shit really? You think it's from my hymen?" You blush, hiding in his chest.

"Don't be embarrassed, and probably," he nods and you sigh. "Let's get you in the shower, kay?" He scoops you up in his arms and you gasp at how effortlessly he lifts you. "Maybe I can please you some more in there, hm?"

[rafesslxt]

unknown number

pt. 1/2

SUMMARY: not only you are surprised when you get a drunk text from your brother that you should pick him up from a party - Topper's just as shocked as you are.

WARNINGS: Thornton!reader, brothers best friend trope, bickering, tension, quick deep talk with Topper

WORD COUNT: 1,7k

NOTE: english is not my first language | thank‘s to everyone for reading and supporting, comments and - are highly apprecaiated <3

🥥 🍋‍🟩 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 🥭 🍍

Your body tried to make its way through the sweaty crowd dancing and drinking around you, the air thick with the scent of weed and expensive perfume. This wasn't on your agenda for tonight, getting your drunk brother out of a party, that's for sure.

"Hey sis, can u get me? I'm drunk as hell."

You weren't surprised, though. After Sarah had ditched him for John B, which was more than understandable for you but hey – Topper never wanted to listen to your advice, he seemed to try drowning the pain and hurt ego away by drinking and smoking.

The house you currently were in was familiar to you. Since Sarah's your best friend you spend a lot of time here but never during these party's, cause most of the time Rafe was the host and well - let's just say you tried to avoid any chance of being in a room with him together.

Because besides the hatred for their sister's trying to live the pogue life, Topper and Rafe had one thing more in common. They fell for the sister of their best friend. The only problem was, that Rafe never acted on his feeling. While Topper may be a complete idiot, he at least showed Sarah some kind of feelings, trying to wrap her around his fingers. But for Rafe? Bickering and hating was his way.

But Rafe apparently had a new way of drawing you into his space.

"Hey, did you see Topper?" You asked a guy which's name you could never remember no matter how often your brother tried to tell you. You just knew he often hang with them together. "No, sorry. Ask Rafe, he was with him a while ago." You instantly rolled your eyes but smiled at him and nodded in a way that was supposed to tell him 'thank you'.

You made your way further through the people until you reached the living room where you saw Rafe sitting on the couch, talking to two girls on either side of him.

Not bothering that you may interrupted something, you walked up behind him, not even caring enough to wait until he might realize you were standing behind him. "Have you seen my brother? He told me to come pick him up."

You looked down at his head which bend until it laid against the backrest, his pretty blue eyes meeting yours. Pretty ? No, you meant blue. Just blue.

"Oh If it isn't the princess of the Pogues, gracing us with her presence this night.", his voice dripped with sarcasm. "And to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" You rolled your eyes at his irritating words and crossed your arms in front of your chest. "Did you see Topper, Rafe?", you repeated.

His smile widened before he sat upright again, took a beer that was probably his from the desk, turned around and locked eyes with you again, walking around the couch towards you.

"Someone's in a grumpy mood today." he remarked, taking a sip of his beer. "Rafe If you don't-" "No need to be so uptight princess. The party just stared." You scoffed. "Well, apparently not If my brother's texting me to come pick his drunk ass up."

"Give him some time, he's trying to heal from a heartbreak. I mean I told him my sister is never hanging around for long but- well you know him. Had to try for himself."

You were slowly getting tired of the conversation and Rafe seemed to notice. "And as for where your brother is; I saw him with Kelce in the kitchen a few minutes ago. Just before you arrived, I think."

Without giving him a second more of your time, you turned around, walking towards the kitchen. Why didn't he just tell you 'Hey, Topper is in the kitchen.' ? Why does he always have to bicker with you and beat around the bush. Ugh.

Sarah always said he liked you but before Rafe Cameron actually had serious feelings for you or even anyone, hell would freeze over.

You walked into the kitchen of the Cameron's, immediately spotting your brother and Kelce, laughing loudly between some shots they were taking.

"Wow. You're really setting the bar lower and lower." You scoffed, making their heads turn towards you. "Y/n? What are you doing here? Aren't you with your little friends?" "Oh, hey pipsqueak." Kelce chuckled from behind Topper, waving at you with a drunken grin.

"Come on Topper, I don't have all night." I sighed, already about to leave the kitchen when he looked at me as If I had torn apart his favorite teddy bear apart that he hid under his bed whenever someone came over. "What the hell are you talking about?" "What the hell do you mean what the hell I'm talking about? You texted me to come pick you up because you're too drunk."

Just as he was about to answer, Rafe entered the kitchen and stood beside you. "Topper, why don't you listen to your sister and go with her, you've had enough for tonight."

Feeling betrayed, Topper was too stunned to speak, looking at Kelce for some backup. "Hey man don't get me into this." he replied to his look, throwing up his hands and spilling some of the liquid that was inside his shot glass.

"I didn't text you!" he exclaimed, reached into his pocket and searching for his phone. "Shit.. can't find it." You rolled your eyes, your patience slowly but clearly wearing off. "Topper.." "I swear I didn't!", he swore while continuing to search the insides of his few pockets. "Damn no really, where is it?", he asked himself.

"Come on man." Kelce chuckled and threw an arm around his friend, slowly guiding him outside the kitchen and towards the front door where you parked your car.

You stepped aside to let them pass, your gaze landing on Rafe who was already looking at you, licking his bottom lip before speaking. "Here." He reached into his pocket and handed you Topper's phone. "What? Why do you have my brother's phone ?", you asked him, as It didn't hit you yet what was going in.

"Thought he might need someone to pick him up before he would be a complete mess.", he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and looking away for a short moment.

Your eyebrows shot up as the realization finally hit you."You texted me to come pick him up? Why would you do that?" He chuckled and looked down at you. " Like I said; I was worried about my friend." "Bullshit.", you called him out right away. "If you were worried about him, you would have told me where he was instead of beating around the bush."

"Just wanted some conversation." he replied simply, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes while doing so, trying not to let him get under your skin. It would only please him.

"Good night, Rafe." you smiled at him before turning around and pushing through sweaty crowd again, reaching your car where Kelce and Topper were already waiting for you.

You pressed the little button on your car key, allowing them to get in while you were still a few meters away. Kelce jumped into the back seat, and Topper settled next to you in the front.

You slid behind the wheel and closed your door, glancing over your shoulder at Topper’s friend. “Should I drive you home too?” you asked, reaching for your seatbelt and securing it right after.

“Sure thing, pipsqueak,” he grinned, his eyes heavy and his body slumping down onto the back seat. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in the last thirty minutes and started the engine, pulling away from the property.

A few minutes into the drive, you looked over to your right. “You’re lucky. Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight,” you smirked slowly, trying to lighten the mood since he was still your annoying brother. Annoying, but family.

A scoff escaped his lips as he stared out the window. “As if they’re ever home.” 

You sighed quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “Well, it’s still better than having to explain why you’re drunk and high.” 

“They wouldn’t understand anyway. They never do. All they do is scream and complain. They don’t care.” He turned his head toward you, studying your face. “But honestly, I don’t know which one of us they’re more disappointed in,” he chuckled.

“Yeah… Mom’s worried I’m drinking myself into a coma, while Dad is worried you’ll run off with Maybank or some other pogue.” The car fell silent for a moment before you both erupted into unexpected laughter. 

"Honestly, I don’t know which one is worse,” you giggled, gripping the wheel a little tighter as you turned onto your street. "Not sure who's setting the bar lower now, huh?" Topper smirked.

“I guess we should take him with us tonight before his parents have a heart attack,” you suggested, nodding toward Kelce, who was snoring in the back seat.

“Yeah…” he glanced at his friend and then back at you. “Thank you for picking me up, even though I didn’t text you. It’s good to know I can still count on you.” He smiled softly at you, placing his hand on your shoulder.

"No problem, Topper." you smiled back at him before turning off your car and finally parked in your garage. "Let‘s get him inside.", you grinned, eager to get out like Topper, when your phone suddenly vibrated in your purse.

Hm, probably the pogues asking If everything‘s alright after you left so quick with only telling them it‘s an 'family emergency'.

You opened your little white purse Sarah had given you on your last birthday and rummaged through it, fishing out your phone. You had a few messages from JJ and Sarah, asking you when - wait.

What was that? A message by an unknown number.

unknown number

i took the liberty of grabbing your number while I had the chance to.

was nice seeing you tonight, hot and bothered like always..

sweets dreams, angel.

xx rafe

That son of a - wait, why were you smiling together with your heart beating faster ?

masterlist | taglist | navigation | valentines day special

tags: @supernaturaldawning @cardibre91 @aegonsslxt @juliet-017

xoxo sarah <3

[flwrkid14]

hey, so for your “Love, in All its Impossible Forms” can you put Tim and Danny in a scenario where Danny has to either choose the world or Tim, and everyone and I mean everyone is telling Danny that he has to choose the world while Tim is staying quiet because he believes no he knows what Danny would choose. Danny, ever the hero would choose the world he so desperately fights to keep safe. Tim is okay with being the other option, he has only ever been the other option.

But what Tim doesn’t know is that Danny has never fought to keep the world safe. No, he fights to keep his loved ones safe, he fights so his family is safe, so Tim is safe.

Now that Tim is being threatened? Well Danny has never felt sentimental about this world, he’s sure Tim could adjust to a new world. After all, what’s the point in Danny being the ghost king if he can’t even do as he pleases?

And Tim? Tim would follow Danny no matter what he chooses, because that is love. Love isn’t conditional, not like how the batfam’s feel, not like how his parent’s felt.

(Take your time!)

anon, you saw into the softest and cruelest part of this story. the part where the world calls Danny a hero, demands he live up to the myth they made of him—and the part where Tim quietly prepares to be left behind.

because that’s what love is supposed to do, right? love chooses the world. love lets go.

but Danny’s never played by those rules. and this time… he doesn’t want to.

When the world begins to end, it’s quieter than anyone expects. No fire, no screaming sky—just cold calculations. A choice. A question with only one right answer.

Danny is called to the center of it. Not as a boy. Not even as a ghost. But as a king. As the King. The one being with enough power to fix it. To rewrite entropy itself if he just agrees to the terms.

All he has to do is choose the world. The millions of people who’ve never known his name, who would never thank him. The strangers who will live because of his sacrifice.

Or—

“Or,” they never say. Because there isn’t supposed to be an “or.”

But Danny feels it.

He feels it in the silence where Tim should be begging. He feels it in the way Tim stands just behind the gathered voices, distant, steady, waiting. Not asking for anything. Not even hoping.

Because Tim’s not the kind of person who gets chosen.

He’s always been the fallback, the extra, the strategic loss. Even in his own family. Even in love. And Danny—Danny is the kind of person who saves the world.

So Tim prepares himself to be left behind. Quietly. Without resentment. Because he understands. And he’s not surprised.

But Danny is.

Because Tim doesn’t know. Doesn’t know that the only reason Danny’s ever fought at all was to protect the people he loves. He’s never been sentimental about the world. He’s never even liked it all that much.

He fought to keep his family safe. His home. His people.

And now—

Danny looks at Tim. At the boy who never asks. Who loves so deeply and quietly he assumes that love means sacrifice. Who isn’t trying to make Danny choose. Because he already thinks he’s the thing that gets left behind.

And Danny can’t. He just can’t do it.

Because what’s the point of saving the world if it means losing the reason you were saving it in the first place?

What kind of king protects an empire and lets his heart die on the battlefield?

So Danny says no.

He turns to the council of ancients, to the army of heroes, to the crying civilians and the trembling ambassadors. And he chooses Tim.

And it’s not fair.

It’s not heroic.

It’s cruel in the way all real love is cruel—because it draws a line between “everyone” and “someone,” and then crosses it without apology.

The backlash is immediate. Gasps. Rage. Horror. They call him selfish. A monster. A failure.

And maybe he is.

But he looks at Tim, and for the first time in his life, he isn’t afraid of being selfish.

Tim stares back, disbelieving. He hadn’t prepared for this part. He hadn’t prepared to be wanted more than the world.

“I don’t understand,” he breathes.

And Danny says, “You don’t have to.”

Because Tim would follow Danny anywhere. To a world that will hate them both. To a universe where no one knows their names. To an entirely new timeline where there’s no pressure, no expectation, no family holding him back. And that's exactly what Danny asks him, to follow him to a future they make themselves. One the world may never forgive them for.

Tim nods.

And that’s love, too.

Not the conditional kind. Not the kind that’s earned or tested or weighed. But the impossible kind. The cruel, human kind.

The kind that lets the world burn because one person mattered more.

[requinoesis]

⭐The Magic Drawing Pad! 📱✨

I was surprised to receive a Tablet from XPPen in exchange for a review. Here’s my experience! 📝✨

Initially, I thought the tablet's design, meant for drawing away from a workspace and outdoors, didn't suit my lifestyle. As an introvert who rarely leaves the house or is socially active, I decided to review it from a homebody’s perspective.

I've never drawn on a display tablet before, only on regular digital tablets like the Wacom Bamboo and my current Huion Inspiroy Ink. Now, I have the XP-Pen Magic Drawing Pad to try out!

At first, it was frustrating! Everything I drew looked crooked and ugly, and I felt like a fraud. But it wasn't the tablet's fault; it was like learning to draw all over again since I was used to the computer and had abandoned traditional art.

I was rushing, thinking I should be perfect immediately. I took a deep breath and remembered that learning a new tool takes time and patience. Once I gave myself the time to adapt, things started to work out.

I only explored the tablet's basic functions, but its interface is similar to an iPad or cell phone and works well. I transferred files to my computer via Telegram, but Google Drive could also be used.

There are several illustration apps available. I chose Infinite Painter first because it is similar to Procreate. I found it amusing that the process of creating art was recorded while I was drawing!

In conclusion, I find the Magic Drawing Pad to be an ideal tablet for beginners venturing into screen drawing for the first time. It offers a practical and enjoyable experience!

Feel free to ask any questions about this tablet, and I'll do my best to answer them!

They also told me to say that there would be up to 45% off during the Prime Day event on the Amazon store and the official store from July 16th to 17th! 🛍️✨

⭐ - US store: https://amzn.to/3L08x36 ⭐ - CA store: https://amzn.to/3VanP9W

They also recommended this keyboard!

⭐ - ACK08 smart keyboard: https://bit.ly/3VCgAYv

Thanks a lot to the XPPen team for their patience and for the opportunity to try out this tablet!❤️✨

---

I did this little speedpaint experiment too if you want to see! The function of recording while drawing is a very cool experience!

That's it, I hope you like it!✨

[proqhetic]

Could you write your head canons for what dating Lottie would be like? Sorry it’s basic this is my first time requesting 😅

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ ꪆৎ ˚ ⋅ dating lottie matthews hcs

cw: nsfw at the bottom, blood

when your relationship is just starting out, i think lottie would be extremely shy or reserved

i don’t think she has a lottttt of experience (compared to say jackie or nat), and she’s always kept to herself more, so she’d be extra cautious about not messing this up or making you uncomfortable in anyway

trusts you with the “weirder” sides of herself that she’s usually too embarrassed to show around others and you only love her even more for it

she’s so cute WAAAJSHAHSKFHAGJ

will do the pinky thing when she wants to hold your hand where she just lightly pokes your hand with it before you just full on take her hand in yours 😭😭

“lottie, we’re already dating. you can hold my hand.” “i just— i wasnt sure!” she defends herself while grinning, taking your hand in hers

her main love language is definitely gift giving!! she’ll gladly shower you in gifts and presents everyday if she knew it would make you happy

if you mention in passing about an expensive pair of shoes you’ve been eyeing for a while now or a funko pop of one of ur faves just dropped, expect to see it nicely wrapped in a bow on your bed by the next day <3

expect her to go ALL OUT for valentine’s day, christmas and your birthday in terms of surprising you with presents and parties.

matching halloween costumes are also on the agenda

cannot cook to save her life this point should just be canon (will try to cook breakfast in bed for you and fail miserably)

sleepovers at her house after soccer practice!!! you’d sit on the bleachers and watch her during practice with heart eyes like those cheesy high school movies while you wait for her

so. many. forehead kisses. (that height difference mmm)

light sleeper — (esp pre-dating) frequently wakes up in the middle of the night and has trouble falling asleep. your presence alone has been such a help,, she’ll have an arm wrapped around your waist or fall asleep tucked into the crook between your neck and shoulder while u play with her hair > <

but the second you crawl up to pee in the middle of the night you come back and see her awake and staring back at you all groggy and pouty hhjshdjehs

asks nat how to create a mixtape just so she can create one for you with all the songs that remind her of you

slips you those stupid post-its in class with the checkboxes that are like

“ hey.. i think ur pretty cute :) date tn? ▢ yes!! ♡ ▢ no :( ”

even though it’s been like a good few months into your rs

⚠️ — nsfw

secretly a freak but wbk… let’s be honest here!!!!

loves whispering the filthiest things in your ear when you guys are out with your friends just to see you get all worked up and flustered

that paired with her evil grinnn oh when her fangs poke out MMMMNNCMSBV i’m going insane

speaking of fangs… biting your lip/neck until she draws blood (vampire!lottie you will always be famous)

sooo whiny. non stop whimpering. even draws them out because she knows how much hearing her turns you on

needs to build some confidence around you and get over that embarrassed start but could definitelyy be the dom one if she wanted

sleepy sex is her favourite >_< waking up to two of her fingers already inside you as she greets you with a drawled “good morning babyy” and a chaste kiss as she adds a third finger in

[leconcombrerit]

This thing had been rotting in my files for a year (minus three weeks but that's basically a year). It was a redraw of one of my first ever pieces for this fandom, and I still find it quite okay if a little stiff in places, so I thought I might as well share it since I don't draw that much anymore.

And then I had second thoughts, which obviously led to me posting it anyway, as you can see, but I realized I've almost made it a point not to draw anything related to Sasi anymore. As in at all. I can't, and I don't want to, and even sharing old art feels a bit 'meh'. It's too directly linked to my long going art block.

What I mean by that is that if I took all the followers I have out there and asked them what they know me or initially followed me for, you might have a fair amount of Lis 2 and the occasional Desert Bluffs afficionados, but you'd get an overwhelming majority of Sanders Sides. Sanders Sides fashion posts even. I was by no means famous for it or anything, but at my small artist scale, it was the biggest success I had.

And it makes it much harder to go back to it at all now. One, because I don't give a damn about the show anymore. Two, because I haven't been properly obsessing over anything in a while (there was a series early this year but given the actual emotional distress I get thinking about it I'm ruling it out). I haven't had real engagement from my own brain, nor real engagement from a broad audience -which makes sense, I'm not posting for anything that will reach a broad audience. But it takes its toll regardless.

Even when I finally finished writing a long fic, I couldn't help but feel 'all this for what ? Ten people or so and two hundreds have dropped it ?'. Which is a bad way to think about stuff you write for your own enjoyment but, you know, the brain gets happy with external validation even if you pretend really hard you don't care.

And so it feels tempting to go back to the golden goose just the time to get the creative juice pumping back, and I try, and I always end up frustrated and angry and feeling even less like making art that before. I'm not having fun with Sasi. Like an old friend you have nothing to say to and yet you have so much to say otherwise, so you get a bit frustrated, you know ? Not sure I'm making much sense, but that's how it feels. I want to have something like that again, but it won't be with Sanders Sides, and I somehow just want if off my radar.

It was left hanging, then lost its spark, and then I stopped caring altogether and I most likely won't even watch the finale when it does come out. I'm over it. I wish I wasn't though, because it does feel like the artistic spark won't come back all on its own this time, and the buzzing community made it so much easier to bounce back and do shit when your brain got wired all wrong.

It sounds like I'm just bawling after love and likes and stuff, and I guess that's part of it, in a way ? Like I'm in no place to do things for myself, and seeing the one thing I used to use to get back in the flow giving me a bored sense of dread doesn't feel too great.

Yet this drawing is still good ! I find it good ! I don't remember everything, but I can tell from the looks of it that I spent a while on it ! It's nice ! I should celebrate that. So I'm sharing it. I think it will be the last piece of Sasi I ever share, though. I'm not watching the finale when it comes out. I don't care about it. I'll just keep doodling my OCs and characters from cool books every once in a while. I'll write little things.

I just really, really need to stop trying to go back to it when it's clearly not working and not even for good reasons. It was a fun ride though ! So yeah. Basically. A whole ass rant for a one year old piece of art. I'm in my bi-annual depresso mood, nothing too surprising there.

[cinnamon7girl7]

"THROUGH THE SILENCE, I WILL RETURN TO YOU – PART 5."

♡ — Summary: I thought I had it all — Satoru’s love, Megumi’s warmth, and Suguru’s trust. But even the strongest love can break when truth hides behind silence. One betrayal changes everything; pain drives them apart, yet memories and a love still alive won’t let them go. Now, Satoru fights for a second chance, and she must decide if, after all the hurt, love is still worth it. ♡ — Author's note: This is the fifth part of this story. I recommend reading the first four chapters (one, two, three, and four) so it makes more sense. This is the final chapter of this story, I’m very happy that you liked it as much as I did. I’ll be uploading the epilogues. Also, if you want, you can send me story ideas. Enjoy the last chapter!

Chapter 5: Returning to You

The rain hammered against the windows as if it knew what was happening in your chest. Outside, the world kept turning, indifferent. Inside you, time had stopped at the exact moment you closed that door, leaving Satoru with eyes full of tears and a shattered heart.

Seven days had passed.

Seven days without hearing his voice.

Seven days without his laughter slipping between the sheets in the morning.

Seven days without his clumsy attempts to make breakfast for you and Megumi.

Seven days... since everything broke.

And yet, every corner of your house brought him back.

You sat on the couch, a blanket over your legs and a cup of tea in your hands. Megumi was in his room, drawing silently. He hadn’t asked many questions since that night. He just looked at you with those eyes that said more than any words could. It hurt to see him so quiet. It hurt to see that even he, who was just beginning to heal, had felt the crack that had opened between you and Satoru.

You were the one who had taught him that love was trust. That bonds couldn’t hold on secrets.

And now you were the one trying not to break completely.

The days passed, and although you didn’t answer his calls, Satoru’s messages kept coming. Some short, like a whisper that didn’t dare to raise its voice:

Just tell me you’re okay.

I miss your voice.

Forgive me.

Tell me how I can make it right.

Others longer, disorganized, as if he wrote them in the middle of desperation, guilt, and the love he still had for you.

But you didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Because you knew that if you did, a part of you would want to run back into his arms again.

And it still hurt. It still burned that he hid something so important from you… him, who had always promised there would be no secrets between you.

And yet… every night you wondered if he was okay.

If he was sleeping.

If he was eating.

If he still wore your ring hanging from that little chain he never took off.

One ordinary afternoon, Suguru knocked on your door.

You were surprised to see him. With his black scarf covering part of his face, his hair tied back, and his eyes downcast, as if it was hard for him to look at you. You had always trusted him. He had always been more than your best friend; he had been your brother in this strange life, so full of battles and curses. But he had also kept silent. He had also been part of that deception.

— Can I come in? — he asked softly.

You nodded.

He sat on the sofa, facing you. For a few seconds, silence enveloped you both. Only the soft ticking of the wall clock could be heard.

— I’m not here to defend him — he finally said, with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together —. I know what he did was wrong. Very wrong. But… I think you should know some things.

You stayed silent, waiting.

— Satoru never wanted to marry anyone else. He never considered it. He only went to those meetings because the clan pressured him. He… just wanted to protect what you two have. He thought if he gave in a little, they would leave him alone. And for a while, it worked. But he never had the courage to tell you. For fear you would think he doubted you… or believe he was capable of betraying you.

You looked at him with your heart tight.

— Suguru… — you whispered, barely.

— He was a coward. I know — he admitted, not defending his friend —. But he never stopped loving you, Tiny. Not for a second.

The name only he used made you close your eyes for a moment. As if the pain felt sharper hearing how he used to call you when things were simple.

— And why didn’t you tell me? — you asked softly, but with a sadness that weighed heavy.

— Because it wasn’t my story to tell — he answered honestly —. And yes, I was a coward too.

You tilted your head, watching the steam from your tea fade away. You wanted to hate them both. But more than hate, what you felt was that damn mixture of disappointment, pain, and love. Because yes… you still loved him.

— I’m not here to convince you of anything — Suguru continued, standing up —. I just wanted you to know the whole truth. What you do with it… depends only on you.

Before leaving, he put something on the table. A white envelope. It didn’t have your name on it, but you recognized the handwriting. It was from Satoru.

You didn’t open it.

Not yet.

That night, Megumi curled up next to you.

— “Mom?” —he called you in a soft voice.

You looked at him, gently running your fingers through his hair. He still called you that, even though the world felt upside down.

— “Do you think Dad loves you?” —he asked, with a seriousness far beyond his age.

Your throat tightened. Every word hurt.

— “Yes,” —you answered, swallowing hard— “but sometimes… love isn't enough.”

He hugged you tighter, as if he were afraid you might disappear too.

— “Then teach him how to love the right way,” —he whispered, leaving you speechless.

The next day, you didn’t know why you did it, but you opened the envelope.

Inside, there was a letter. And something else: a photo.

It was a snapshot of the three of you — you, Satoru, and Megumi. You were at the beach. Megumi was laughing, his face covered in sand, you were holding a melted ice cream, and Satoru was looking at you as if the entire universe lived in your smile. That photo… Suguru had taken it.

The letter was handwritten. Shaky. The ink was smudged in some places, as if there had been tears on the paper.

My love: I don’t know how to begin something that hurts even to think about, and yet here I am, writing to you with trembling hands because spoken words are no longer enough, and because the fear of losing you forever is stronger than any pride I might still have. I failed you. I can’t disguise it, I can’t justify it. It doesn’t matter if I believed I was protecting you, if I thought it was better for you not to know. Silence is a form of hurt too… and you didn’t deserve any kind. Since you came into my life, everything changed. You taught me what calm feels like in the middle of chaos, warmth in the middle of winter. You are the only person who has touched my soul without fear, who has loved my light — but also my shadows. You are my home. You have been since the very first moment, even before I understood it. And sometimes, when you love someone so deeply, you think hiding the storms will protect them. But I was wrong. I kept something from you that you had every right to know, and the worst part… is that I hurt you when all I wanted was to protect you. You know? They gave me the ring the day you left. I didn’t know how to give you something worthy of you. I imagined a thousand ways to ask you: at home, with Megumi, surrounded by everything we’ve built… or in one of those places where the world seems to stop when we’re together. But in the end, I gave you nothing. Not because I didn’t feel it, but because I ruined it. I want to marry you. I want to see you wake up every day, I want to fight with you over silly things and then make up laughing. I want to raise Megumi by your side, watch you be a mom, and also just be you. My partner, my best friend, my love. And even if you say no. Even if you can’t look at me the same. Even if your eyes no longer shine when they see me… I’ll wait. Not because I deserve your forgiveness, but because there’s no one else in this world I want to give all that I am to. Thank you for loving me. For staying so long, for every mochi you made even when the first ones turned out bad, for every tender look, for every night when you were my peace. And if one day you decide to come back, I won’t ask for explanations. I’ll just hold you, and I promise I’ll never hide anything from you again. You are my most sacred truth. Always yours, Satoru

Your chest burned. You didn’t know if it was from rage or from love. Maybe both. Because it hurt. Everything hurt.

And yet…

There you were, reading that letter over and over again.

And you knew something was about to happen. You could feel it. You could sense it.

And you weren’t ready.

But at the same time… you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Three days later, you got a message.

It wasn’t from Satoru. It was from Megumi. Well, from his number, but you knew there was no way your son had written something like that without help.

“Mom, I want you to come with me somewhere. It’s not far. It’s not dangerous. I just want you to come. Please.”

And a dropped location.

You sighed. Your heart beat as if it had a memory of its own.

You didn’t know if you were ready.

You didn’t know if you wanted to go.

But you knew you had to.

You arrived at sunset.

It was a park you used to visit when Megumi was little. A hidden one, with tall trees, wooden swings, and an open field filled with wildflowers that grew without permission. That place held memories in every corner.

In the distance, you saw him.

Satoru was standing with his back to you. He wore his blue jacket — the one you liked the most — and the wind tousled his white hair like it was an open page.

When he heard your steps, he turned around. He wasn’t wearing the blindfold. His eyes, bluer than ever, shimmered with fear… and hope.

—Thank you for coming —he said, voice low, almost broken.

You didn’t reply. You just looked at him. You waited.

—I don’t want you to think this is a trap. I didn’t come to convince you of anything. I just… I want to give you something.

He pulled a small box from his pocket. It wasn’t a ring. It was older, made of wood, with hand-carved inscriptions.

He opened it. Inside were small folded notes.

—They’re memories —he said, voice trembling—. Things I wrote about you… since the day I met you. I wanted to give them to you before. But I was scared. Today, I’m not afraid to say what I feel. Only afraid of losing you for good.

He handed you the box and took a step back.

—I’m going to stay here. You can leave if you want. I won’t stop you. I just wanted you to know that everything I lived with you was the most real thing in my life.

You looked at the box again. You picked a note at random.

“Today I saw her laugh as if the world didn’t hurt. I felt saved.”

Another one.

“She taught me how to make mochi. I burned myself, made a mess, but she laughed so hard I wanted to fail again just to hear her one more time.”

And another.

“Megumi called her mom. She cried. And in that moment, I knew she no longer belonged only to me… she belonged to the entire universe we were together.”

Your hands trembled.

Your heart shattered and rebuilt itself with every sentence.

Satoru was there. Waiting.

And you… you didn’t know what to say.

—Why did you do this to me? —you asked finally—. Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start?

—Because I’m an idiot —he said, with painful honesty—. Because I thought I could handle it all on my own. Because I was scared of losing you if I said something you couldn’t bear to hear.

—And what did you do? You lost me anyway.

He lowered his gaze.

—I know. But even if I have to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve a second chance… I will. Because not a single day goes by that I don’t regret that silence.

You stepped closer. Your eyes were shining. He extended a trembling hand, but didn’t touch you. He just left it there, waiting.

—I broke you —he whispered—. And if you tell me no, I’ll understand. But if there’s a part of you… even a small part… that still loves me… then I beg you, let me come back to you.

Your breath caught.

You looked at the box, his eyes, his hands, his tears… and you remembered everything.

The beginning. The hugs. Megumi calling you “mom.” The fights. The kitchen covered in flour. The beach. The letters. The pain. The love.

—No —you said, and Satoru broke.

—Please… —he whispered, falling to his knees—. Just tell me what I have to do.

—No, Satoru —you repeated—. I don’t want to go back to that.

He closed his eyes. His heart dropped to the ground. But before he could say another word, you leaned down, cupped his face in your hands, and added, with tears running down your cheeks:

—I want to come back to you… but to the real you. No lies. No silence. No fear.

And then you hugged him. You hugged him so tightly that you nearly took his breath away.

Satoru sobbed into your neck, whispering “thank you” again and again, as if he couldn’t believe it.

—I love you —you said.

—And I love you —he replied, burying his face in your hair—. More than anything. More than everything.

And when Megumi saw you from a distance, sitting on a bench, he smiled in silence.

His family was whole again.

Satoru took your hand and led you to the very place where you had kissed for the first time.

There, surrounded by flowers and with the sky opening between the clouds, he gave you something else. A little box, this time with a ring. But not like before. Not an engagement ring. It was one engraved with a word that meant more than any promise: Trust.

—I don’t want this to represent a future. I want it to represent the present. What we are now. What we’ve built, and what we can still keep creating. Will you walk with me, one step at a time?

You took the ring. You put it on your finger. And you kissed it.

—Always.

[calebsmoocher]

After an argument, MC begins to navigate Caleb's 'lockdown' regime. When she thinks the coast is clear, she finds him half dressed. Should fit into the main story. Angst after a shaky reunion. Word count: 1.5K A/N: Yipee my first real tumblr post. My mind has been consumed by Caleb. Anyway, just a short bit of angst while i figure out how to use tumblr and get used to posting. woohoo

The glare of sunlight roused her from a night of intermittent sleep. She sat up with a wince, clutching her head as the sun’s harsh rays felt like a panging taunt. She fiddled with the curtains in between her fingers. They were wide open, a rare occurrence as Caleb was always the one to draw her curtains each night. But last night he didn’t, or rather he couldn’t, as she had shut him out before dinner. Slamming and locking the door. She rubbed her temple. She had lashed out at him for insisting he accompany her everywhere while she was in Skyhaven. 

“I don’t need your constant surveillance-”

“Surveillance!? You’ve been in Skyhaven for all but two days. And you think you know everything that’s out there. This isn’t the DAA; you’re not staying on a campus for God’s sake.” 

“So what?” She cried. “I’m a competent Hunter. I can hold my own ground. Why do you always diminish that?”

He scoffed, rubbing his jaw. “I never said you weren’t a good Hunter-”

“You implied it.”

“Let me finish.” His gaze hardened and she knitted her brows together in frustration. “There are things here unlike Linkon. Unlike anything you’ve probably encountered at the association. Fleet guards can barely hold their own as is.”

She shook her head. “Like what? What’s out there that’s so dangerous?” He looked past her into the kitchen, then checked his watch.

“Come on, dinner’s ready. You can help me set the table.”

She scoffed as he walked past her, throwing her hands up. “You won’t even answer me,” she yelled.

She hadn’t managed to get him to break at all. He would just ignore her or change the topic. Treating her like she was the same dumb kid from their childhood.

Her stomach growled. That’s what she got for having the argument right before dinner. The devastating weight of shame dwelled in her stomach, overpowering her hunger. She felt like a brat. Like the dumb kid she was so adamant she wasn’t anymore. Even if he was being considerably overbearing, she knew he was trying to protect her. The familiarity just let her lash out at him easier. Show him all the ugly sides to her that she hated so much.

She checked her phone. 7:40 AM. Surely he had left by now. She’d rather starve than have to face him at this moment. She’d apologise tonight, after she’d had time to reflect and cry about it. Rehearse something to get back into his good graces. 

She opened the door slowly and its hinges whined out. The house was eerily silent. So far so good. Stepping out onto the cold tiles, she peered around every corner till she made it to the kitchen. He really had left. She felt an inexplicable pang in her chest, but she brushed it off as her being on the brink of starvation. Pacing around the kitchen, she began opening each cabinet. Where did he store the bowls again? Much to her surprise, each cabinet was full. He had enough crockery, containers, and cutlery for a family of six. Did he regularly have guests over? Someone special maybe that stayed here for long durations of time? That same pang ached in her chest again. She really needed to find a bowl soon!

“Ahem…” 

She jumped, turning around at the sound. Caleb stood in the doorway, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He was wearing the grey button-up shirt of his uniform and his white pants. 

“...” She couldn’t speak. She felt like she had been caught red-handed. A silence enveloped him, both of them admiring the interior until their eyes caught onto each other. Now, neither could look away.

“Good morning,” he offered. 

“...Morning,” she replied. She rubbed her arms. “I thought you had left already.”

“Is that why you-” he bit back his words, sucking in a breath. “Are you hungry? You didn’t have dinner last night. Let me make you breakfast.”

She gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. You’re going to be late.”

“I’ll call in. Please, let me make you breakfast.” 

Another pause.

“I’m…sorry for last night. I was…I was being irrational. And I lashed out at you.” She dug up the courage to look at him, but he looked equally apologetic.

“I’m sorry as well. You’re a brilliant Hunter. I didn’t mean to undermine you.” She smiled at his words, shaking her head. An awkward fog of tension still surrounded them. 

She tiptoed towards him, closing the distance. He gave her a once over. She was wearing a thin shirt and a skirt. He took her wrist into his clasp, rubbing over the goosebumps on her flesh.

“Your feet are cold. Let me…” He turned, exiting the room quickly. When he came back, he was holding a pair of slippers. He kneeled down, guiding her feet into them. That was strange. They were pink. And they fit her perfectly. Was the person who he was having over a girl?

He had always made her play the role of his pretend girlfriend when they were younger. Was it now that her role was no longer needed?

“So…Porridge? Or how about pancakes?” He gave her a warm smile, fighting to fill the silence.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get breakfast with a friend. I don’t want to make you any more late.” She returned his smile, gesturing for him to finish getting dressed. She had a few friends from school who had moved to Skyhaven. Surely one of them would be up for a last minute breakfast. 

But Caleb remained still, his smile faltering. “You’re going out?”

She furrowed her brows, trying to gauge his reaction. She sighed. “Are you serious?”

He let out a strained exhale. “Come on, I’m just looking out for you.” He was still on about this. Now that she thought back to his apology--and hers as well--neither of them had claimed to be wrong. 

She closed her eyes, turning to walk back to her room to get dressed. 

“Hey, wait. Wait.” He gripped her arm, moving in front of her. He gaped desperately at her, struggling to find words that wouldn’t push her over the edge.

“Are you really going to keep me in here?”

“No, I…” She searched his eyes. And in turn, he searched hers. She was unwavering in her resolve. He could see that. Would they really fight again? After they had just supposedly made up? He sucked in a breath before slumping his shoulders. “...Help me with my tie, won’t you?”

She blinked.

He picked up his tie from where he had laid it on the table. It was black and silky, and cool to the touch. He offered it to her, eyes pleading. After a moment's silence, she took it, their fingers brushing against each other.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know how to tie a tie?”

He shook his head pathetically. She smoothed out the fabric, hooking it over his neck.

“I wonder how you managed to get by without me,” she murmured under her breath, playing into his trick. As she tucked the fabric under his collar he lifted his hands to hold her arms, thumbs rubbing over her elbows. She was careful not to let her cold fingertips graze his neck. Every swallow, sharp breath, and rustle of fabric was amplified. It made her ears prickle. It made conscious of her every breath being so close to him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again. “I keep…messing up with you. It’s like everything I say and do is wrong.”

She sighed, looping the tie around itself. “No, Caleb. I know you mean well. It’s just- well I need to be my own person.” He nodded, hands shifting to smooth over her upper arm. 

“I’m not trying to control you. I just can’t trust anyone but myself to keep you safe.” She finished looping the fabric, pulling the tie tightly into position.

“Not even me?”

He didn’t reply immediately. And she sighed before bringing her hand up again to loosen the tie slightly. She smoothed out his collar. Then brushed down the fabric of his shirt.

“All done.”

Before she could leave he held her back again. He was always at a loss for words with her.

“...Thank you.”

She shrugged in his hold. “Have a good day at work.” But her words were bitter. And she sunk out of his grasp as soon as his grip loosened. He gave her cheek a parting pinch, offering an unrequited smile. Just like that he was back to his cheerful self. The walls around him hardening like steel. Impenetrable and unyielding.

“Okay, pancakes it is.” 

[algea]

Ghoul School (pt 2)

prompt: when you get out of the hospital, Lars has put it onto himself to take care of you until you're healed. I can confirm that there is a big chuck of text where you're really pissed off at him before he gets his shit together!

warnings: tbh i literally dont even know. umm yeah your shin is broken and you're concussed so. things may or may not get a little steamy...cussing duh

a/n: im super mega surprised all my Lars stuff has gotten popular; i think it’s very insanely unhealthy how much i love James Acaster.

~ there are a LOT of little secret references to James in here, comment what you picked out ;)

~ also this is probably longer than the first part idk, but its officially the longest post ive written @jesssuperwholock03

~requested by @thestralluvr

Lars visited you everyday. Every morning, every evening after work, sometimes even over his lunch breaks, like clockwork. You were beginning to think it was seriously unhealthy. You were lying in the hospital bed, 4 days after the incident, with your eyes closed. You heard a soft click of the door and you cracked your eyes slightly. You, being oh-so-surprised, were met with the tired face of your crush colleague and work partner. He wore his jumper tied around his waist, a dark colored button up adorning his body. His hair looked disheveled, which could only mean he had just finished a job. He looked so tired, more tired than you've ever seen him be. It was annoying, honestly. Annoying how attractive he was without even trying. 'Why can't I look like that' you thought to yourself, mentally frowning. You decided to acknowledge his presence, seeing how he took time, again, out of his day to come and visit you.

"Lars." You stated, turning your head look over at him. Lars froze, gazing down at your solemn face. You started to reach out to him, but thought otherwise and rested your hand back on the crisp sheets. You watched as he pushed his glasses up and pulled a chair to sit beside you. Lars rested his forearms on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped.

"I was told that you'll be able to get out of here today." He whispered, his tired eyes searching your face. He was desperate for you to come back, back to how things used to be, where he would tease you, and you would always find witty comeback. But he knew you couldn't, not for a while at least. Lars was so scared you weren't going to be able to work for Ghost Corps anymore, especially since the concussion you got really fucked up your head. Not to mention your shin, which was a huge impact on you.

Lars let out a shaky breath. He unclasped his hands and ran one through his hair. You reached out, more confidently this time, and rested your hand on his. He didn't move his hand; he was scared if you let go, you'd disappear.

"Lars." You said again, your face flashing with worry. Your other hand softly touched his chin, holding his face so delicately.

"I'm scared that you're not going to come back." Lars stated, grimacing at the words that flew out of his mouth.

"Why wouldn't I come back? What made you think this?" You asked, your eyebrows drawing together in a sad furrow.

"I want things to be the same, I don't want things to change." He whispered quietly, his eyes cast down.

"I think you and I both know that it won't be the same, neither of us want to admit it. Normally, you don't go around kissing people and pretend like you hate each other for the rest of your life." You explained, searching his eyes for an answer. His eyes glanced back at you as his cheeks burned with pink. You tipped his head to the side ever so slightly, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone.

"That's unfair, Lars. You can't expect me to leave you alone after that." You pleaded.

"Can we just drop it? It really doesn't fucking matter right now.” Lars snapped. You drew your hand away from his face, hurt flashing across your face.

“What I meant was that we should focus on getting you out of here.” He frantically explained. He reached for your hand, but you pulled away again. Lars had never felt an emotion like this. His ears were ringing and his brain was hazy. It could’ve only been described as embarrassment. He wouldn't cry, no, that's not what he wanted to do. He wanted to apologize over and over again until you'd forget he ever did anything or said anything.

“I think it's maybe time for you to go. When I get out, do me a favor and send Lucky and Pheebs to get me.” You muttered, looking down at your hands. Lars sat there for a few moments, his jaw clenched. He wanted to say something, anything, to make you understand how he felt. Instead, he got up and, with a longing gaze down at you, left.

You felt hot tears sting your eyes, which you allowed to fall down your cheeks. If he wanted to play that dumbass game again, you could do it, just not like you used to. You didn't realize that you were holding your breath until he walked out of the door, not looking back. You slammed your hand down on the bed in a fit of rage, which turned into a soft cry. You wished that you could make better sense of it all, but your wishes never came true.

It was only 2 hours after that you were discharged. Lucky and Phoebe, just as you had requested, rushed in to see you as soon as they could.

"Y/N!" Phoebe exclaimed, running to you and giving you a big hug. You smiled and hugged her back, or at least as much as you could with your crutches. Lucky joined in on the hug before you parted and started making your way to the car.

"Everyone is so happy you're coming home! We've all been super worried." Phoebe smiled, giving you a big smile.

"I'm so happy I get to see you guys again, Pheebs." You grinned back, ruffling her hair. Your mind wandered to Lars as you crutched your way to the car.

"Has um..." You started, realizing that the words were harder to get out of your mouth than you thought.

"He's not here. I haven't seen him since we went out this morning." Lucky explained, catching on to what you were about to ask. You looked down and nodded. 'Of course, how could I be so goddamn stupid.' You thought. Phoebe helped you into the car while Lucky set your crutches next to you. Trevor was driving, which was a whole other risk to be taking.

"Since when did they let you drive?" You asked, grinning at Trevor.

"Since Lars bailed at the last minute. I'm a great driver, so I have no idea what you're even talking about." Trevor bragged. 'He bailed at last minute? He never does that...' You thought sadly. He could've just been working really hard on whatever science thing he was studying. You really didn't know, but it did cut a little.

You didn't know you were carsick until you let Trevor drive you home. You thought Lars was a bad driver, but you quickly realized that Trevor was on the list of 'Never-Ever Drive Me Again,' along with Gary and Ray. You made a mental note of that as you struggled to stand to get out of the car. Trevor quickly rushed to your side to help you, easily pulling you up. You casted your gaze up, which fell on the Firehouse. 'Oh good, he won't be here.' You thought, as a feeling of relief washed over you. You hobbled in next to Phoebe and Trevor with Lucky trailing in not far behind. Callie and Gary stood right after the door, waiting for your arrival. As soon as you entered the Firehouse they were by your side, giving you warm 'hello's' and 'I'm so happy you're back and ok.' You were quick to hug them, hoping to talk to them about your situation with Lars.

"Alright kiddos, time to let the adults talk." Gary clapped, shooing away the smaller kids.

"Hey but I'm not-!" Trevor started, but was dragged away by Lucky. You three sat down around a table. It was silent for a moment as you tried to say what was on your mind.

"Did he come see you?" Callie asked, leaning in close.

"He came and saw me everyday. Sometimes up to three times." You whispered, your hands clasped together. Callie and Gary looked at each other.

"But when he came and saw me this morning, he was different. He was super moody, and got upset when I tried to confront him about kissing me like you said for me to do. I don't know if he doesn't like confrontation or if he, yknow, might be seeing someone else." You went on, nervously biting your nails.

"Y/N, I seriously doubt that there's many women who actually like Lars, much less want to even date him." Gary said, using his left hand to talk. 'Is he right? But I'm sure women think Lars is attractive.' You thought, scrunching your eyebrows together.

"I'm pretty certain that you're like the only woman he's ever talked to in a romantic way, probably even the only woman he’s ever even talked to." Callie confirmed.

"Either way, he likes you. We all know that." Gary finished. You were really hoping he was right, otherwise you were a fool being played.

You chatted for a little while longer, mostly about anything and everything that came to mind. After a while, you told them that you were ready to head home.

"I'll drive you home." Callie said, standing up and grabbing the keys. The ride home was filled with you and Callie singing awful 80's songs, the vast majority of them by Tears for Fears. That was something that cleaned your soul and freed your mind a while. Callie helped you into your apartment before she left with a hug and a warm 'see you soon.' You were seriously hoping that your torture would end.

After a day, you got restless. So restless that you decided to go back to the lab and start working again. Yes, it was idiotically stupid. No, you weren't going to listen to anyone and take a break. Honestly it was going to happen anyways. You walked into the lab the first day, partially hoping that Lars was going to be there, but alas he wasn't. You felt disappointment but you were hopeful that you'd see him tomorrow. Except you didn't. More days past by and you hadn't seen any sign of Lars in the lab at all. You were starting to get more and more worried.

It had been more than a week and you hadn’t seen Lars since. Concern was growing and you were growing weary waiting for him to return. It was extremely hard taking care of yourself, especially since you had to trek a long ways to get yourself to your car outside of your apartment. Finally, you decided it was time to go see Lars. It pissed you off so much that you were running to him, instead of him coming to you. You knew his place, mostly because you, Phoebe, Trevor, and Lucky would sometimes prank him by doing something so absurd he would tremble with anger. That was back when you had your little schoolgirl crush on him, before you realized that you loved him.

You decided to walk, opting for the fact that he knows your car all too well. You weren’t even sure if he was there, you really didn’t even bother checking to see in your group FindMy. You didn’t even bother use your crutches because they were stupid anyways, you could walk just find even though you had a little limp. God you just wanted to fucking punch his stupidly handsome face. He made your blood boil so much.

You were only a few blocks from from his house when it started to rain. Not just a light rain, but a pour. You grew a little worried for your cast, but continued on. You were completely drenched by the time you were on his doorstep. Even worse, it was cold out. You stood on his doorstep for a minute before you started to knock on his door. You breathed out, seeing your own breath in the air. You were so cold. No one answered, which was pretty typical for Lars. He was probably standing in the kitchen, not going to open the door.

"Lars!!" You yelled, knocking on the door some more. Water dripped from your face and you shivered again. The door still didn't open. You sighed and started walking away, the pouring rain drenching you again. You started to tread back to your apartment when you heard a loud bang and turned your head. There Lars was, standing in the doorway, eyes wide as he stared at you.

"Y/N!" Lars yelled back, meeting you in the rain. He craned his head to look down at you, his hands flying to meet your face.

"What are you doing here?" He said, his thumb swiping at your cheek.

"I came to see you. Where the fuck have you been, Lars Pinfield?!" You boomed, your right hand gripping the front of his shirt. His head dropped and he closed his eyes.

"I...I couldn't face you after that dumb shit I pulled. I wanted to apologize, really I did, but I couldn't bring myself to face you." Lars explained, his breath creating a misty cloud. All that either of you could do was stare at each other incredulously.

“Are you fucking stupid? I’ve wanted to see you all week, but your dumbass wouldn’t show up. Jesus Christ Lars, do you have any clue how much I’ve missed you? You’re so goddamn unfair you know that?!” You screamed, pounding on his chest. Lars’ hands moved from your face to your waist, holding you steady while you angrily punched him. He could only see you through his hair, which now stuck to his forehead, and his rain covered glasses which were fogging up. He was freezing, but all he could ever think about was you. How cold were you? Why would you sacrifice your time, hell, your health to come see him. He really couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t comprehend why someone would ever do that for someone. You would think with him being such a genius he would figure it out, however some people can be dense. But he realized that you were giving up all your time to invest in him. So, he decided that he needed to do the same.

"Do you think, maybe, that you'd want to spend the rest of your life, with me, maybe not just hating each other. And maybe not while hating each other, you'd like to be with me, y'know, for a long while?" Lars whispered, causing you to stop throwing punches. You looked up at him, in all his rain drenched glory. God, he looked so beautiful. You began to tremble, your hands lifting to capture his face with them. Lars breath quickened, his large hands gripping your waist. His hazy blue eyes captured yours, holding you in his everlasting gaze.

"Lars..." You murmured, swiping your thumb across his bottom lip. It was soft, softer than you thought it would've been. You found yourself daydreaming again about kissing him, though you'd never let him know how many times you've done it. You realized how close you were after you felt his breath against your cheek. You leaned in closer, pressing your chest against his. It was like something out of a movie, the way time stopped then. When your lips pressed against his, your body shuddered. It was like fireworks went off inside of you, making you all jittery and excited. Lars' hands slipped from your waist to your ass, softly gripping the flesh there. You slipped your fingers into his blond locks, tugging lightly. You heard a light groan rumble from his chest as he pressed into you further.

You weren't sure if the rain mixed with the cold had made you delirious, but after Lars had pulled away, it made him look even hotter. His tousled, wet hair, his lips that were red after the kiss, the ruby flush that adorned his cheeks and ears, and his half-lidded eyes made him even more beautiful. You found yourself feeling heat creep up through your neck to your cheeks as he stared down at you.

“Shit, right, you need to get inside, now.” Lars commanded, dragging you towards the door.

“Lars—!” You exclaimed, eyes widening as he basically picked you up. Your hands fly to grip the shirt on his back as you hoists you over his shoulder. He muttered a few things under his breath as he strolled to the door, obviously not caring that the rain was coming down harder. Lars opened the door, set you down, and shut the door with the heel of his shoe.

“Give me a second.” He commanded, leaving you standing in the foyer. You shivered and looked around, noticing some things that seemed quite out of place. Lars had multiple different band posters framed and hung up around the house, most of them signed. You could pick out a few like Pindrop, Temps, and the Timewasters. You also found multiple different movie titles like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and other things. ‘Interesting’ You thought as you took in your surroundings. Lars appeared again with a towel and some sort of clothes he had found for you to wear.

“If you fuck up my good clothes, I’m kicking your ass to the curb again.” Lars sighed, throwing the towel at you.

“Whatever, brainiac.” You bit back, trying to hold back your grin as you shoved past him. That earned a scoff and an eye roll from Lars.

“Washroom is down the right hall, second door to the left.” He called, peaking down at you as you went to change.

Lars had never had a girl in his house before. Other than the times his mother and sister had come over from Britain, obviously. His “outside” friends insisted that he bring a girl home, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to when he could only think of you. It made him a little giddy knowing that you were here with him. It was like a fever dream, if he woke up it all would be gone. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure that there was a way to prove that this was real. Lars found himself wondering if you liked how his house was decorated, the clothes he brought you, even the way the house smelt. At the thought of these, he began to worry that you didn’t like it here. Those thoughts were denied when you waddled back from the bathroom, furiously rubbing at your hair to dry it. It was silly, really. Lars thought you looked a little too good in his clothes. His Temps T-shirt was too big for you, and his plaid pj pants were rolled a few times to even try and fit you.

“You look stupid in that.” Lars scoffed once more, looking anywhere but your face.

“Hey man, you picked this out. Don’t blame me for your shit style.” You tried back. A hint of a smile could be found dawning his face. You smirked and poked his cheek.

“Is that a smile I see? Is the Lars Pinfield smiling in my presence?” You giggled, covering your mouth with your hand to fake gasp.

“No, it isn’t.” He replied, the smile growing wider on his face.

“It so totally is!!! Lars Pinfield is literally smiling right in front of me!” You exclaimed. He shook his head.

“Shut up. Anyways, I’m getting changed, don’t fucking break anything.” Lars sighed, sliding past you.

“You can put on anything, just as long as it’s not some stupid BritCom.” He added, shutting the door to his room.

“Who even watches BritComs…” You muttered to yourself. Walking back into the main foyer, you sat down on the sofa, which was surprisingly nice compared to how you thought your scientist boyfriend colleague lived. You sat down and flicked through the channels, stopping on whatever stupid romcom movie was on. You sighed and put your chin in your hand, anticipating the snappy response of ‘this is the shittiest movie I’ve ever seen.’

“Hey.” You heard from above you. Looking up, you saw Lars resting his elbows on the top of the sofa next to you.

“Hi.” You peeped back. Secretly, you were gawking at him. Lars wore a pair of white sweatpants and a black shirt. You’ve never seen him in casual wear, but you were absolutely loving it right now. His glasses weren’t pushed up, loosely sitting below the bridge of his nose, and his hair was still damp. If this wasn’t heaven, you didn’t know what was.

“What’re we watching?” He asked, glancing down at you. You shivered when his eyes locked on to yours.

“Some stupid romcom, you probably won’t like it anyways.” You answered.

“You’re right, I’ll probably think it’s super shitty, but I’ll watch it anyways.” He sighed, tipping his head towards you. You reached up and placed a kiss on his lips. Lars scrunched his eyebrows and sighed. After you pulled away, you patted the seat beside you, beckoning him to sit down. He all but scrambled to get next to you, plopping down with another big sigh.

“How’s your leg?” Lars asked once more, motioning to it with his eyes.

“It has definitely seen better days.” You replied earnestly. He nodded in sincerity, then turned his attention back to whatever you were watching. You looked over at him again before reaching over and slipping your hand into his. He didn't move, so you considered it a win. Taking matters into your hands again, you slid closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder. Lars' head rested on top of yours immediately and you smiled as he snuggled in closer. You could smell whatever cologne he was wearing, a citrusy, vanilla smell.

"You smell good." You muttered, looking up at him through your lashes. Lars didn't reply, but you could definitely imagine the look on his face. That little embarrassed smile with a scarlet blush dusting his cheeks. You found yourself becoming a little sleepy as you settled in. Blinking a few times, you tried to wake yourself up, but that only made you even more sleepy. Unintentionally, you started to fall asleep. As you drifted off to sleep, you could hear Lars mutter something to you, but you didn't respond.

Somehow, in the middle of the night, you had moved from the sofa, to Lars' bed. Now you only had 2 options as to how you got there. 1. You sleep walked to the bed and magically laid down, or 2. Lars had carried you there. You groaned and opened your eyes, lifting a hand to rub them. You blinked a couple times and sat up. No, Lars wasn't in here. So then, where was he? You slipped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen, finding that he wasn't there either. A cup of coffee and some breakfast was left on the counter, along with a note saying,

'I'll be back later, got a couple things I need to work on at the lab. I left you some breakfast and I'm sure you can fend for yourself for lunch. Please don't burn the house down. - Lars' You smiled and picked up the coffee, finding that it was still steaming. You noticed that Lars had made the coffee the way you liked it, which meant he definitely paid attention whenever you ordered it.

After basically spending the whole day exploring Lars' house, you settled into the sofa once more with a random book you had picked out of his bookcase. Hearing keys jingle, you lifted your head from the book and saw Lars venture in. You slowly got up, minding both your head and leg, and made your way over to him.

"Hi handsome, how did work go?" You smiled at him, leaning against the doorway.

"It was...eventful. I got thrown up on by pukey." Lars sighed. You laughed and patted his shoulder.

"That was probably hilarious. I'll make dinner while you take a shower." You said, pushing him along to the bathroom.

"Mmmm, fine. But..." He started before he swooped down and kissed you. Your hand flew to his hair, giving it a nice tug. With that came a loud groan. Lars' gripped your waist and pushed you against the wall. His tongue swiped at your lips, which you gladly accepted. You snatched his glasses and tossed them away, squirming slightly as his nails dug your waist. When he pulled away he grinned,

"Looks like I'm not getting my shower in tonight."

[dp-marvel94]

Real -Chapter 6

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

First->Previous -> Next

Also on AO3

The chapter count is gone since I've stopped trying to predict how long this story is going to be. At this point, I think I'm just going to keep writing it until I'm out of idea. That's what I get for starting without a plan. 😅

Jason leaves the apartment and Danny’s core aches. His hands tremble now that the danger, the explanations are over. He just watched Jamie melt into ectoplasm. He… he almost lost his twin. Now Jason knows about both of them being ghosts and about his brother being a clone. Jamie lied to the vigilante about his origin. And….

A spike of anxiety lashes from Jamie’s cold spark, lodged just below the half ghost’s sternum. The quiver of emotions draws the boy out of his own growing fear. He exhales; he needs to keep it together, needs to focus on the tasks Jason gave him, needs to make sure his twin is okay.

Danny’s hand rises to rub where he feels his brother’s almost-core. “How are you feeling… other than the obvious?”

Scared. Tired. The clone sounds it, his mental voice shaking. Can Jamie sleep?

Danny blinks, surprised by the question. A traitorous part of him wonders if it’s an excuse to avoid the questions buzzing at the edge of his mind. But… the fatigue wafts from the younger ghost, lapping at Danny through their bond. Almost dissolving into ectoplasm surely is exhausting.

“Yeah.” The half ghost nods. “You can go to sleep.”

At least in this there is no fear. After all these weeks, Danny has no doubt Jamie will remain, even if his energy quiets and stills, mind lost to sleep.

The clone’s presence settles, the sensation unfortunately like Jamie rolling over in bed to stare at the wall and avoid Danny’s gaze. Still, the half ghost offers what privacy he can, even while again having to share a body.

True to his word, Danny sits down to eat dinner. He packs a bag with clothing for both himself and his brother. He tries not to let himself spiral into anxiety.

His twin is there, the half ghost reassures himself. Jamie is still there, still present. His mind and emotions are stronger than ever, in no danger of fading despite the recent destabilization. And yet….

Jamie’s cold spark pulses faintly in its familiar spot. And it is just that, a spark. Not quite a core. Perpetually refusing to solidify.

Hum? Danny’s mind whirls. Is that the cause of the instability, the unformedness of Jamie’s core? And why? Why has it yet to take permanent shape?

At the same time…. The fear holding Jamie’s tongue, influencing him to lie to Jason. Again, Jamie started melting after he panicked over telling Jason the truth.

The clone’s unformed core, his anxious avoidance of the truth, and his instability… these three things must be related.

Shaking his head, Danny puts the thoughts away. He can worry about that later, try to question his twin once he’s awake.

Soon enough, Jason returns. “Are you both ready to go?” Concern still wrinkles his brow ever so slightly.

“Yeah.” The half ghost shrugs the bag onto his back. “So, we’re going to the BatCave? That’s like Batman’s headquarters, right?”

“Yes.” The vigilante nods. “And actually, we’re going to Wayne Manor.”

“Wayne Manor… because your adopted dad, Bruce Wayne, is Batman.” Danny blinks for a long second, letting the impossibility of that statement take him.

Not that he should be surprised. Despite how sparce Jason had been with his past, the half ghost had learned very early that Damian was the man’s brother through adoption. And the tween was nothing if not proud that he was the “only blood son” of the famous prince of Gotham, even if he was at the time annoyed at his father for grounding him. After meeting Jason as Red Hood, Danny had already suspected that the man’s family were the other Gotham vigilantes. The pieces weren’t exactly hard to put together.

Dismissing the surprise, the half ghost’s expression shifts into something touched. “You’ll really trust us with everyone’s secret identities?”

“Of course.” The man steps forward and ruffles Danny’s hair. “You’re both good kids.”

Despite his nerves, the words are comforting, the action pleasantly familial. “Thanks.” The half ghost can’t help but blush.

Jason says nothing on that, though the hint of humor in his eyes says he saw that blush. Instead, he continues. “I was going to take us on my motorcycle. Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yeah.” Danny nods. “I’ve ridden a motorcycle. Actually….” He offers a playful grin. “I might have stolen one of my rogue’s bikes before.”

Jason chuckles. “You’ll have to tell me that story later. Is Jamie okay with taking the motorcycle too?”

“He should be.” The half ghost says. At the man’s pointed look, he explains. “Jamie’s actually asleep right now.” He frowns. “I don’t really want to wake him up to ask. Almost…. Uh… that took a lot out of him.”

The vigilante’s expression softens. “I can see how it would.” A flicker of worry again. “But you’re sure he won’t freak out if he wakes up and we’re riding a cycle?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Danny nods. “We’ve got a lot of experience with this body sharing thing. More than I’d like.” Frown deepening. “But Jamie’s used to sleeping while I go to work and do my own thing.”

“Alright.” Jason let out a sigh, apparently accepting the words. “Let’s go them.”

The man leads the half ghost and spectral passenger downstairs, to where his bike is locked up. He dons a helmet, red in color though fortunately not that of the Red Hood, after offering Danny his own to use.

The ride to Wayne Manor is decently long. Out of Crime Alley, passed the park near Danny’s work, and into unfamiliar parts of Gotham. The buildings grow taller and then shorter again, eventually spreading out and leaving the crowded streets behind. Blocks of apartments become suburban neighborhoods, and finally massive, gated lots with mansions.

Just as twilight is darkening into dusk, Jason slows down at one of the gates. The wrought iron bares a W as wide as Danny is tall. An intercom crackles, a metallic click as the gate unlocks and swings open. The vigilante drives forward, coming to a stop soon after at the bottom of a set of stone steps which lead to the wide front doors.

Three figures stand at the bottom of the steps: Damian Wayne, a salt-and-pepper haired man whom Danny assumes is Bruce Wayne, and an older man in a butler’s suit.

At Jason’s lead, Danny dismounts the bike. “Uh. Hi.” He waves shyly.

The middle-aged man offers a warm smile as the two approach. “Hello. You must be Danny.” He holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Bruce Wayne.”

Danny accepts the hand with some awkwardness. “It’s uhh.. nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Just Bruce is fine.” The man shakes Danny’s hand, gentle yet confident. “I know you’ve already met my youngest, Damian.”

Danny releases Bruce’s hand, turning to look at the younger boy.

Damian scowls, distrust wrinkling his brow. “Where is the other one?”

“Master Damian.” The oldest man cuts in, voice ringing with disappointment.

“No, it’s fine.” Danny tries to wave off the prickliness, addressing the man. “It’s fine, mister….”

“Alfred Pennyworth.” He gives a slight bow. “The Wayne family butler at your service, Master Danny.”

“You don’t have to call me that.” Danny blushes, again trying to wave off the words. “And…” He turns back to Damian, a nervous flicker of the eyes to his neighbor. “Did Jason not tell you about the uhh… overshadowing?” At the preteens continued hard look… “Jamie is here too.” Vaguely, the half ghost motions up and down his own chest. “We’re sharing until he's better.”

Damian’s face softens slightly, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes. “And what exactly does that entail?”

“Stop interrogating the kid.” Jason finally cuts in, pointing at the now scowling preteen. “And you, old man.” He narrows his eyes at the tellingly quiet man. “Don’t even start.”

“Master Jason is correct.” Mr. Pennyworth adds. “Master Danny is our guest. As is Master Jamie, whom we’ve rudely yet to address.” Another slight bow. “Greetings, young sir.”

Danny lets a slight smile part his lips at the exchange. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to meet you when he wakes up.” At the questioning looks… “Jamie’s asleep so you know… not aware of what’s happening now. I’ll see if he wants to talk or anything after he’s done.”

Mixtures of curiosity and suspicion paint Bruce and Damian’s faces at the explanations, belying their desires to press. Wisely, neither say anything.

At the same time, Alfred nods graciously. “I see. We will look forward to your brother’s presence once he is rested, then.” He steps to the side, motioning to the door. “In the meantime, can I interest you in a cup of hot chocolate?” His lips turn up. “I just finished a batch of cookies as well.” More than a hint of humor flicker in his eyes.

“Cookies!” Jason’s eyes light up at the word, Damian perking up with a similar look. The man quickly swings his legs back over his bike. “I’m gonna go park this. And I mean it.” He points again. “Don’t grill Danny while I’m gone.” Then, a more playful narrowing of his eyes. “You also better save me some of those cookies, demon brat.”

Damian turns up his nose, trying to look offended. Still, the excitement for cookies sparkles in his eyes.

The exchange is enough to make Danny chuckle. He turns back to Mr. Pennyworth just as Jason speeds away. “So you’re the Gramps, with the war starting cookies.”

Something touched and proud flickers in the butler’s eyes. “I suppose I am.” He steps towards the door, holding it open. “Shall we?”

Danny follows the other three into the mansion and down winding halls. Bruce points out notable rooms. The family game room, the library, his own office. They pass a massive ballroom, a dozen guest rooms, an indoor pool. The half ghost would be more awed if he hadn’t been to Vlad’s castle many times before. Still… his eyes widen, taking in all the sights. He’s definitely going to need a map.

Soon enough, the group arrives in the kitchen. Danny stops a few steps in front of the door, while Mr. Pennyworth approaches the fridge. The half ghost’s eyes flicker around the countertops and appliances, taking in the room. Then… a flicker of nervousness returns. He shifts foot to foot, unsure what to do with himself.

Before the anxiety can build too much, the older man turns to the half ghost with a gentle smile. “Master Danny, you may take a seat while I prepare your hot chocolate.”

With a grateful nod, Danny does so, sitting down on a bar stool at the kitchen island.

The butler continues. “Master Bruce, Master Damian, would you like a cup as well?”

“Yes please.” Damian agrees, taking his own seat.

“No thank you.” At the same time, Bruce refuses. “I would enjoy one of those cookies, though.”

Mr. Pennyworth motions to a metal tin on the island. “Of course, Master Bruce.”

Bruce lifts the lid, grabbing a powdered sugar covered cookie. “I will be in my office.” He turns to the two seated boys. “Don’t hesitate to ask if you need something, Danny.” He finally takes a bite of the cookie. Letting out a pleased hum, he nods gratefully at the butler before leaving the kitchen.

Damian takes a cookie as well and at the two Waynes’ leading, Danny finally takes his own. “Wow.” At the first bite, the boy’s eyes widen, breathy with awe. “These are incredible, Mr. Pennyworth. Thank you.”

“You are very welcome, Master Danny. And really, just Alfred is sufficient.”

Danny doesn’t say anything on that, finishing his cookie and then taking another. His anxiety is melting away, comforted by the treat and the hospitality even as Damian studies him curiously. Still…. The preteen keeps his peace, enjoying his own snack silently. Soon enough, Alfred presents the two boys with coco. The half ghost sips his, humming pleasedly at the rich taste.

Alfred quickly cleans up, putting the sauce pan in the dishwasher before dismissing himself to set up a guestroom. After his absence, the kitchen is quiet for the next few minutes, just the gentle sound of mugs clinking, of the dish washer churning. Then, two other teenagers arrive.

A shorter boy, black-haired and blue eyed, enters through the door. “Bruce said you would be in here.”

Recognition tickles Danny’s mind. “Tim. Hi.” Tim Drake he knows as a regular at his coffee shop job, caramel macchiato with seven pumps of espresso. And the other…

“Hi Danny. I’m Duke. We talked on the phone last week.” The second teen, dark skinned with short cropped hair, introduces himself.

“I remember.” The half ghost nods; he had recognized that voice. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”

“B said something about your brother being hurt.” Worry shines in Duke’s eyes. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” A knot forms in his throat at the reminder. “He’s okay for now.”

“That’s good.” The meta looks relieved. Then, his brow wrinkles as his eyes search the room. “Is he here too?”

“Todd said not to interrogate him.” Damian cuts in, clicking his tongue.

“It’s okay. I can answer a few questions.” Danny offers. “I guess I’ll tell you guys what me and Jamie told Jason….”

The half ghost explains in brief, Jason returning about a minute in. He’s a ghost, a former vigilante on the run from his ghost hating parents.

“Oh… and a ghost hunting branch of the US government called the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny scowls at the words.

Surprise flickers on Jason’s face before turning to protective anger.

Before the man can say anything, Tim cuts in. “How didn’t we know anything about this?” He whips out his phone, typing intently in a way that achingly reminds Danny of Tucker.

“And your brother?” Duke redirects before questions about the GIW can be bombarded at him. “Who’s apparently hurt and still not here?”

“Actually he is here.” Danny shrugs. “Just currently overshadowing me, also asleep.”

At the confused looks, the halfa continues. Jamie being a clone of him, his twin almost melting this afternoon, the boy acting as a ghostly passenger in Danny’s body to keep him stable.

After the explanations, Duke offers the first question. “So that’s why you were asking about undocumented metas…”

“Yeah. Jamie wasn’t exactly born in the typical way so-”

A pulse of energy just below his sternum, followed by a comfortingly familiar sleepy mutter cuts off Danny’s words. His eyes widen, expression suddenly brightening. “You’re awake!”

“What?” Tim and Duke both blink at him, confused.

Jason picks up on what’s happening more quickly. “Jamie’s awake?” He offers a comforting smile. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Danny snorts at the greeting. He places a hand over where he can feel his twin’s forming core, attention turning inward. “Hey, baby bro. We’re at Wayne Manor, with Jason.” He looks up, eyes falling on each of the other vigilantes. “You remember Damian. That’s Tim; you met him that one time you visited me at work. And Duke… I talked to him on the phone about the Meta Human Foundation.”

Damian, Tim, and Duke offer their own greetings with various degrees of unsure awkwardness.

A blink of confusion from Jamie. Then… a startled jolt. With a gasp, Danny’s body turns intangible and he falls through his seat, his elbow impacting the floor.

“Ow.” The boy complains, rubbing his sore funny bone. “Been a while since that happened.”

Then his legs shift out of phase. Jamie’s voice mutters in his head.

“I can’t understand what you’re saying.” Danny responses, too relieved to be worried.

Another full body shiver of intangibility. Why can’t I separate us?

The clone sounds more confused that startled, the pure bewilderment making Danny chuckle. “I think you’re getting some wire crossed, buddy. You just want to turn yourself intangible, not all of us.”

Another whole-body flicker. Then… a rubber band pulling, like the familiar sensation of making a duplicate. The feeling leaves Danny panting. “Not like that.” The half ghost shakes his head. “I don’t think you have enough energy to separate, Jamie. Just stay put for now.”

No. But… want to. The clone whines, again turning their shared form intangible.

Danny sighs, ready to ask his twin to stop again, when Jason squats down in front of him. “Jamie, you should listen to your brother. We’ll keep you safe until you’re ready to be on your own again.”

The flickering stops, Jamie’s attention shifting. Danny feels the clone looking through his eyes. Jason?

“Yeah, we’re at Wayne manor with Jason.” The half ghost again explains. “Now,” He chuckles, raising an eyebrow at his brother. “Are you going to stop trying to un-overshadow me long enough to get off the floor?”

Yes. Jamie says bashfully.

It’s okay. Danny presses the words across their bond, a sincere comfort to counter the embarrassment. I’m glad you’re awake.

The half ghost pushed himself to his feet, again taking his seat. Then, he notices Duke, Tim, and Damian staring at him. “What?” He blushes.

Tim shakes his head, the corner of his lip turning up. “You weren’t kidding about the possession, were you?”

“It’s called overshadowing. And nope, no kidding.” Danny laughs, trying to dislodge some of the awkwardness.

“And the phase-shifting was Jamie trying to reverse the overshadowing but not having any luck.” Duke says. Then, looking almost impressed. “You took the random power bursts surprisingly well.”

“Sadly, I’m used to it.” Danny shrugs. “My powers were like that first few months, going off all the time. It’s definitely better to know why it’s happening now.” He smiles teasingly. “I can tell the culprit to knock it off.”

A flicker of teasing in kind comes from his brother, with the impression of a sound that might be blowing a raspberry.

Danny slicks out his tongue, just as jokingly petulance. “Love you too.”

Despite the audience, it feels so good to joke with his brother.

“I assume James is able to speak to you without being heard externally.” Damian cuts in, eyebrow raised.

Ew. Jamie complains at the name.

At the same time, Danny’s nose wrinkles. “Ew. Don’t call him that. It’s Jamie. But...” The somewhat mock disgust melts away, replaced with something sincere. “Yes, I can hear him in my head, hence the saying random stuff.” Another embarrassed blush. “Sorry. I probably sounded crazy just then.”

“No, you didn’t.” Jason says plainly. “We get it.”

“Yeah.” Tim adds. “We get it.”

“Good. Because it would be annoying to relay everything he says-“

Hey! Not annoying. A grumble from his head-mate.

“Okay, not annoying.” Danny put his hands up disarmingly. “You know what I mean, Jamie. I would be a lot to relay everything you say.” Not that you want me to say everything, am I right?

A muttering begrudging agreement from his brother.

Danny continues, looking back at the four vigilantes. “And it would be even more confusing if we switched out who used our mouth.”

Brows wrinkles in confusion, taking a moment to process before Tim and Duke’s expressions morph into surprise. Jason does not look shocked, of course, having already seen the twins cutting each other off out loud. Damian though… appears startlingly unphased.

“Tsk.” The pre-teen tisks. “I do not know why you are surprised, Drake, Thomas. It figures in case of possession the possessor can control their vessel.”

Tim narrows his eyes at the younger boy. “It’s not like we’ve dealt with possession that many times, let alone it being consensual.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you. We’re weird.”

In a good way? Jamie asks shyly.

Yes, in a good way.

The vigilantes trade looks, partly unsure how to respond to the comment and another part debating what to ask next. At the same time, Danny reaches for another cookie.

Jamie notices, excitedly perking up. Cookie?

The half ghost pauses. Yeah. Want to try one?

A wordless mental nod from his twin. Danny let himself sink deeper inside himself, letting the other ghost rise to the surface.

Now in control, the clone lifts the confection towards his mouth.

“Hey Jamie.” Jason takes notice. “You’re trying one of Alfee’s cookies?”

The younger boy stiffens, curling in on himself slightly at the sudden gazes. Danny hears a brief wonder. How did he notice? But with the change in posture and the green eye light softly bathing their hands, the switch must have been obvious.

Jamie nods. “Yeah. Can’t taste it unless Danny lets Jamie take control.” Still wary of the studying eyes, the clone takes a bite. In blink though, the unease disappears. “Wow.” He chews, covering his mouth with one hand. “These are great.”

Jason chuckles. “Told ya. Danny reacted the exact same way.”

“Oh…” Jamie blushes, a hint of disappointment.

At the comparison… Danny silently wonders, shielding the words from his brother.

“Everyone goes starry eyed at Alfred’s cookies.” Tim says, the soothing undertone suggesting that maybe he picked up on the source of that disappointment too. “I’m Tim. It’s nice to see you again, Jamie.” He smiles, a sincerity in the words. “Danny told us your backstory. I’ve got a friend who I’m sure would love to meet you. He’s a clone too. Do you want to see about meeting?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Jamie shrugs, finally taking another bite of the cookie. His eyes roll back exaggeratedly, his enjoyment obvious.

Then, he turns to the dark-skinned boy. “And you’re Duke. Can… can the Meta Human Foundation really help us?”

“Definitely.” Duke nods enthusiastically. “And now that we know everything B will definitely want to help.”

“Father cannot resist helping a teenaged vigilante.” Damian rolls his eyes. “And with his tendency to adopt youth with black hair and blue eyes, which you both have-”

“Wait.” Jamie’s eyes widen, startledly interrupting. “No one said anything about adoption! Besides…” He shakes his head. “We don’t really have black hair and blue eyes.”

“Those eyes might glow green now,”  The preteen scoffs. “But I am not blind James… Jamie.”

The clone pouts, arms crossed his arms. “No, really!”

The raise of Jason’s brow says that he knows what Jamie is talking about. At the same time, others look something between confused and dubious.

Danny catches a whiff of frustration, the outline of an idea as Jamie’s almost core reaches for his. Wait, what are you… He trails off as the clone triggers their currently shared body to transform. Huh. You can still do that? The half ghost muses curiously

Jamie  has no time to respond. In a flash of light, the glowing white-haired form of Danny Phantom floats above the floor.

“What the-.” Tim jumps back, startled.

Duke covers his eyes, shouting about the brightness.

“Damn kid.” Jason shakes his head. “Warn a guy.”

And Damian pulls a knife. “Pit demon!”

Eyes popped wide, Jamie flickers back, hands raised. “Don’t!”

“Master Damian.” A chastising voice sounds from the door. All eyes turn to find the Waynes’ butler standing in the door, one eyebrow raised disappointedly. “Is there a reason you are holding our guests at knife point?”

Damian instantly lowers the knife, looking surprisingly remorseful.

Jamie takes a relieved breath, lowering his arms. “You weren’t joking about stabbing.” He frowns. “Wasn’t very nice to threaten Danny, the first time we meet.”

The preteen says nothing, simply scowling in response.

“Master Jamie, I presume.” The older man interrupts the tense moment. “Alfred Pennyworth at your service. Are you enjoying the cookies?”

The clone’s eyes literally brighten, nodding excitedly. “Yes! They’re really good!”

“I am glad to hear it.” Alfred smiles gratefully. Then, turning to address the rest of the group. “I believe some of you have nightly activities.”

“Oh yeah. We’ve got a… thing in B’s office.” Tim points a thumb in the direction.

“They know about us being the Bats.” Jason says, eyebrow raised.

“Right.” The shorter teen chuckles. “I’m still a little dazed from that light show.”

“Yeah.” Duke lowers his hand, squinting at the ghost. “You’re really bright.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Jamie blushes.

“Don’t worry about it.” Their neighbor offers. “Just warn everyone next time?”

Damian clicks his tongue. “That would be wise.”

With that, Jason, Tim, and Damian excuse themselves.

“We’ll see you in the morning.” Jason says, eyes softening. “Tell Alfred if you need me. I’ll drop whatever I’m doing for both of you, okay?”

Shyly, Jamie nods. “Okay.”

The vigilante ruffles the white hair. “Good night Jamie, Danny.”

“Good night.” At the second name, Jamie lands on the ground. “Uh Danny? Do you want to…”

Understanding the request, Danny switches places, taking back control of his body. His posture straightens. “It’s Danny again. Good night. And thanks Jason, for everything.”

The three vigilantes leave for patrol, Duke dismisses himself to go to bed, and the half ghost and clone are left with Alfred.

“I’m going to turn human so… you might want to look away.” Danny says.

The butler does so. After the light is passed… “May I show you to your room?”

With a nod, Danny agrees. A few twists and turns down vaguely familiar hallways find the three in front of an unassuming wooden door. Alfred opens it

“There are two beds, should separate sleeping arrangements be necessary. You will find an on-suite bathroom stocked with anything you may need. The closet and drawers also have a wide selection of clothes. Feel free to borrow anything you like. You may also leave your dirty articles outside the door, and I will have them washed for you.” He motions to the box on the wall. “You may call me on the intercom should you need anything.”

The half ghost gives a nod of understanding, stepping inside the room.

Alfred offers his own comforting nod. “Master Bruce said his waiting to hear back from Justice League Dark contacts but will have an update by the morning. Rest assured, young masters Danny and Jamie, the family is doing everything in its power to help you. All that is required of you is to rest. And try not to worry.”

The words provide some comfort. Still… “We’ll try.” Danny smiles dimly, anxiety creeping.

“Goodnight.” The butler offers one last kind smile.

“Goodnight.”

With that, the door closes and Danny and Jamie are alone.

Notes:

I've started on the next chapter which will be a conversation between the twins. I need to think about it some more though, figure out exactly how much of Jamie's thought process needs to be revealed to Danny before Bruce's Justice League Dark contact shows up. 🤔 This story is really making me think for something that was supposed to be a fun little tangent. 😂

[sxcret-garden]

ღ NCT Dream Jeno x fem-bodied!reader ღ words: ~2.5k ღ genre: college AU, roommates AU, a bit of humor if you squint, smut ((subby) perv!Jeno, a bit of humiliation, handjob (idol receiving), masturbation, voyeurism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms) ღ warnings: none ღ prompt: “How many times have you jerked off to me?”

It’s a Thursday afternoon like any other - you arrive at home at around 4pm after the end of your last class, you’re slightly exhausted from having a busy day, and you’re craving nothing more than some alone time with your laptop and some comfort food.

Except that you didn’t expect to hear your roommate moan your name upon entering your shared flat. You think you misheard it at first - maybe you’re more tired than you thought and you’re so out of it that you’re having hallucinations? - but then you hear it a second time. Jeno, most likely in his room, is calling out your name loud and clear, followed by a groan that causes blood to rush to your cheeks. You’re a little embarrassed about it at first, but at the same time you find it strangely amusing. And so, you make the most immoral decision in a while, and you draw closer to his room as quietly as possible to eavesdrop.

“Mmmh… feels so good, Y/N…” you hear him mutter. “Your pussy… so tight…” You raise your eyebrows as you're caught off guard by the dirty things leaving his mouth, but at the same time a huge grin appears on your face. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he’s into you - you’ve known that something’s up for weeks, and even your friends who occasionally come over when you’re both home have noticed that he has a crush on you. He hasn’t made any clear advances on you though, and neither would you for as long as you’re stuck living under the same roof. You don’t mind that he obviously treats you differently than his other friends, that he smiles more to himself when he’s around you and that sometimes he stares at you a little too long when he thinks you’re not looking. However, the thought of attempting to date someone you’re already living with would’ve never crossed your mind either.

And still, here you are now, listening in on Jeno getting himself off to what you assume is a very detailed fantasy about you, and you’re somehow not repulsed by that at all. And so you bite your lip in excitement as you hear him groan your name over and over again, spelling out bits and pieces about the mental image in his head. 

“Ride me… yeah… just like that…” An uncontrolled moan escapes him, making you think he’s about to cum, and you wonder whether you should announce your presence before, after, or not at all. “Ah… your tits… I love your tits bouncing like that…” And then it happens. You crack up. You make a noise. And at the same time he stops making noise altogether. You’ve given yourself away, and in order to spare him the suspense that you imagine is killing him at this very moment, you step through the half open door. Standing in his doorframe now, your gaze finds his huge hand wrapped around his cock in all its pre-orgasmic glory, and then also his wide open eyes, quivering lips, and deep red cheeks. He gapes at you, opening and closing his mouth like a fish under water, and you almost feel a little sorry for him.

“Excuse me, but would you let me in on the fun or am I supposed to keep pretending I’m not here while you’re getting off to my bouncy tits?” Jeno remains speechless. You’d have thought he’d immediately try to hide, try to talk himself out of this situation, but none of the likes. He just keeps sitting there, at the edge of his bed, frozen. 

“What day is it?” That’s the first thing he says when he finally speaks.

“Thursday?”

“Fuck. Sorry. Oh my god. I thought it was Friday. Shit.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest as you lean against the doorframe. Friday is when you would’ve had an evening class, so it makes sense that he thought he’d be undisturbed for another while. However, this also makes another burning question arise - almost as burning as Jeno’s deep red ears.

“How many times have you jerked off to me?” Jeno looks around the room, obviously in a panic, and somehow his hand is still wrapped around his exposed dick.

“U-uhm… like… today?”

“Lee Jeno, my god. I didn’t think you were such a huge pervert.”

“I… I’m sorry?” Now he grins abashedly, like a five year old boy that has just been caught preparing a prank on someone, which makes quite the contrast to the rest of the position he’s in.

“At least it’s not on my bed…” you comment, and when he seems to run through another circle of internal panic at your words, you immediately brush them off, gesturing wildly. “You know what? No, let’s not talk about this.” Though, if you’re perfectly honest with yourself, on second thought it somehow turns you on to think he’s secretly snuck into your room just to get off on you there.

“I… can I have a minute or two? And then we uh… talk about this?” Your roommate gives you an apologetic yet mischievous grin, and you profusely shake your head.

“No. No, you can not have a minute or two.” And then you push yourself off the doorframe, and you take a few steps to his bed until you’re standing right in front of him. You see him gulp as he looks up at you, and a single drop of sweat makes its way down the side of his face. Perking up an eyebrow, you slip out of your shirt, throwing it to the ground somewhere next to you. 

“So… how many times?” You pose the question once again as you put your hands on his shoulders, and a knee between his legs. 

“T-today it’s… the first time…”

“And overall?” You lean in and you let your lips ghost over his neck. “Be good and tell me the truth.”

“U-uhm…” Jeno stutters, unable to bring himself to answer. You find it kind of cute, and when you nip at the skin below his ear and you let a palm glide down the shirt covering his stomach, he becomes even more flustered. You decide to tease him for a while, running your fingertips back up and raking them into his hair as you take your sweet time scattering kisses all over his neck. He leans his head back a little, allowing you better access, and you have to grin at how needy he is.

“Been close?”

“Huh?”

“Were you close to having an orgasm when I barged in?” you clarify, and you lift your head to get a good look at his face. 

“I-…”

“Just tell me. Maybe I’ll help you out a bit…”

“V-very close…” He’s still embarrassed that you caught him. You can tell by his stammering and by the way his cheeks are still dusted pink, but when you put your hand over his, slowly sliding it towards the tip of his cock in order to take over for him, he relaxes with a sigh.

“Now… how many times?” You stroke him slowly, watching him melt under your touch with a groan.

“F-faster…” he mutters under his breath, and you huff.

“Then answer my question.”

“A few times…?”

“Oh really?” You apply some pressure when going over his tip, and another desperate gasp escapes him.

“M-maybe every Friday… for… some time…”

“You are such a perv,” you say, but at the same time you speed up the movement of your hand. Jeno throws his head into his neck with a groan, digging his fingernails into the bedsheets at his sides.

“I heard you call my name too,” you say. “Wanna let me hear that again? Right in front of me?” If looks could kill you’d be dead by now, but when you cock your head to the side and you stop moving your hand, he’s quick to give in.

“Y/N…” he moans, “keep going. I’m begging you…” You smirk at his request, and you give him what he wants.

“It’s really cute how much control you can have over a guy once you have his dick in your hand.” You say that, not thinking much of it, but it seems to be doing something for him, as he squeezes his eyes shut and moans your name again.

“Y/N… I’m gonna-” His load spills into your hand as he clenches his teeth and a strained groan escapes his throat. You stay like that for a few seconds, drinking up his blissful expression that none other than you is responsible for, and then you get up to grab a tissue from beside his bed to clean yourself up.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry, I-” Jeno gets ready to apologize, pulling his pants back over his softened dick, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“What are you doing?” you ask, unzipping your jeans and slipping out of them. “I’m not doing this for free. Also, I thought you wanted me and my bouncy tits to ride you?” He blushes again at how nonchalantly you say this, but when you also rid yourself of your underwear, now standing completely naked in front of your roommate, he merely gapes at you in disbelief. 

“Get naked,” you prompt. “Or are you telling me you’re gonna miss out on this chance?” Jeno doesn’t think twice, and he hastily slips out of all his clothes as you watch him with a victorious smile on your lips. You let yourself marvel at his toned, well-trained body, and once he sits down on his bed completely naked, you crawl on top of him, pushing him back into the blanket by his shoulders. 

“Now, tell me again what you almost got yourself off to.” Again, he’s shooting daggers at your wicked grin and your words, but you can also see a certain thrill in his stare as he begins to talk.

“You… on top of me… like right now,” he begins to explain reluctantly as you run your hands down his chest and abs. However, the more your palms roam his body, the more confident he becomes. “I was thinking about you riding me… my hands on your hips, like this.” Jeno grabs your hips at once, giving them a squeeze, and then you allow him to guide them to his core. You roll them in his lap once, and you feel your folds grazing his hardening length.

“You’re already getting hard again just at the thought of it?”

“Aren’t you getting wet at the thought too?” he challenges you, and you can’t exactly deny it. Not when you feel the heat rushing to your core so clearly.

“So? What’s next?” You ignore his attempt at teasing you, and instead you keep rocking your hips, feeling him grow against your slick pussy. He sighs at the friction, and you raise an eyebrow, throwing in, “My boobs?”

“Y-yes…” he answers, and suddenly his stare is glued to your chest. He brings one hand up to squeeze your right tit, and you moan at his touch. It fits into his hand just perfectly, and you too find yourself throwing your head back at the way he gropes you. 

“You’re so perverted…” you hum, and then you lift your hips off him for a second. Aligning yourself with his full grown length, you prepare yourself to take him in. And then you let yourself glide down on him, taking in just the tip to tease him, but in that same moment you can clearly feel just the tip isn’t enough for you either.

“Fuck…” you mutter under your breath, hands propped up on his chest.

“Well, you’re the one currently having sex with that perv, so…” Jeno comments. You come back up, having him slide all the way out, before lowering yourself onto him again. You repeat that process a few times, each time taking him in a little deeper, until eventually you both run out of patience, and he takes control with both hands back on your hips. Guiding you all the way down, you gasp at the way he stretches you out, and Jeno gives you a few seconds to adjust to his size. And then, you begin to bounce on top of him, and you find his lustful eyes fixated on your breasts.

“Perv,” you mutter, but that only seems to turn him on more. 

“You’re enjoying it,” he throws back, and you can only moan in response.

“Maybe…” But who could blame you, when he feels so good inside you, and when his hips meet you so perfectly every time you sink down onto him. You feel him pressing his thumb against your clit, and it causes you to groan, becoming more eager in your movements.

“You gonna get off on that perv’s cock, huh?” Jeno teases you, directing his full focus on pleasing you. You whine in response, feeling your high approaching at light speed. Something about this situation makes you unbelievably horny, but you currently don’t have the means to figure out what exactly that is. Instead, you focus on moving your hips in just the right way to maximize your own pleasure.

“Fuck, Y/N… you feel so good…” You moan in appreciation, and through a string of curses falling from your lips, your high crashes down on you. You feel yourself clench around his cock, and your thighs tremble as you keep rocking your hips even past your orgasm. You bring Jeno’s hands up to your boobs, letting him squeeze and play with them as he pleases while an expression of utter bliss appears on his face. 

“Mmhh… this is even better… than I imagined…” he groans through gritted teeth, and now you feel heat rushing to your cheeks as well because of his boldness. You feel him twitch inside you as your hips keep bouncing on top of him, and then eventually he shuts his eyes tightly and grunts your names as he cums inside you.

You crawl off him, knees still shaky, but you do your best not to let him notice. Then, you collect your clothes, tucking them under your arm.

“I’m going shower,” you inform your roommate, who’s following your every move with his eyes. You can tell he’s unsure what to say, and you’re at least as speechless as he is about what you just did, but you’re a bit better at seeming unbothered. You walk out of the room, and just as you’re right in the doorframe, he calls out to you to make you halt.

“We should do that again sometime,” Jeno blurts out, and you fail to suppress a dirty grin.

“Maybe,” you say. “If I catch you getting off to me again I’ll think about it.” You throw him a wink, and before you can fully register the smirk on his face that’s supposed to tell you he’s accepted your challenge, you leave the room for a nice and hot shower.

[majorasnightmare]

being so fr i genuinely think that the dead three are an excellent case study in Divine Madness

like im not well versed in forgotten realms lore by ANY means but i DO enjoy veering into headcanon worldbuilding territory sooo. take everything with a grain of salt and only keep what u feel like skdjskdjsnfj

we all know bhaal is like. kind of COMICALLY self destructive and stupid, shooting his pawns in the foot at the drop of a hat seemingly just for the sake of pointless cruelty, and is obsessed with murder even to the point of sacrificing his other domain of ritualized death for the purpose of killing the world (orin should NOT be as penalized as she is for how strictly she does in fact adhere to bhaal's doctrine). and while this can be explained as differences in writers portrayal and sympathy for the character of bhaal (larian in particular seems to take a dim view of bhaal, and of gods in general), spinning it into a consistent character is a fun writing challenge

and personally i think its just a long form example of how mortal minds are not innately prepared for the leap of being an autonomous individual capable of making personal decisions and having complicated nuanced feelings about a variety of ideologies to becoming a Conceptual Embodiment responsible for a fundamental force present in the world at large. like you stop BEING a person, you stop being able to change your opinions on certain things because... well, you ARE those things. can the wind stop feeling like the wind?

so bhaal achieves divinity and inherits aspects of jergal and it utterly rends his mind asunder. his erratic behavior is a result of his human mind trying to cope with divine power, and so its no surprise that he turns to that same coping method many angry dissatisfied violent people turn to: familial abuse. bhaal has a direct line of connection through blood ties to his spawn, and its a line he can draw on whenever he pleases to influence their behavior or communicate with them. every progeny hears him as clear as a cleric, regardless of their will or feelings towards him, as long as that blood connection remains. its why hes so obsessed with producing spawn despite being a god of murder: on a personal level, he embodies those cycles of abuse and how they keep perpetuating themselves, not as a divine aspect but as a personal choice as a result of his own actions and the consequences bhaal experiences. on a broader scale, you CANT redeem bhaal, not just because he is an evil aligned god of murder, but because redemption would require bhaal to meaningfully confront that his ambition to pursue divinity has ruined his life, and that temporary relief like exerting power over his family cant actually solve the core problem that he isnt actually capable of handling the power and responsibility he sought out. so he would prefer to keep driving his spawn to slaughter and self destruction and ruining his own schemes because that maintains the illusion of bhaal being an influential powerful deity in control of his emotions. the success of his schemes actually doesnt matter nearly as much as that illusion.

it doesnt matter that the dark urge was on the brink of achieving his self described final goal of killing the world, because they acted outside of his control through allying with a baneite and enacted a scheme they came up with themselves. it doesnt matter that bhaal explicitly encouraged orin to betray them, bhaals goals are falling short of success so the dark urge needs to get it together and finish the scheme they started in his name. this is an absolute nonsense train of logic, because your punished twice over, first for making a plan that benefits bhaal, and then AGAIN for BEING PUNISHED THE FIRST TIME! if the end goal was actually achieving the death of the world via the absolute, this is a totally fucking stupid way of going about it, but it makes sense as an extension of an abusers inability to cope with life stressors outside of inflicting abuse.

we need to remember that there is no inherent series of personality traits that defines an abuser, only actions. there is no circumstances that make an abuser an abuser, and there is nothing a victim does to justify or deserve abuse. an abuser acts like they do because abuse benefits and rewards them, and they are unwilling to actually surrender those benefits to treat their victims with the dignity they deserve, because thats difficult and hard and not as immediately rewarding. and generally, the most common reward for abuse is stress relief. abusing a victim feels good for the abuser, it relieves anger, it passes blame away from them onto a subject they can act on (instead of taking personal responsibility or acknowledging depersonalized systemic forces), it relieves stress, its an exercise of power and control in a world where those things are not easily accessible. understanding bhaal as an abuser provides the thread of consistency that makes a series of incoherent actions and reasonings reflect a mindset a person could conceivably have, and the stress he is trying to relieve has an easy source in the form of the very divinity bhaal sought after so greedily

to a lesser extent, this aspect of ruining divinity is, i feel, present in all three of them, its just that bhaals manifestation of it is exceptionally explosive and violent. bane seems completely and utterly consumed by his aspect of tyranny, to the extent that little remains of his personality that isnt a cunning, ambitious power seeking manipulator who accrues and hoards power at all costs, even consuming his son in his entirety for his own resurrection. that myrkul inherited so much of jergals portfolio and has increasingly mimicked jergals personality is no coincidence. the three adventurers who challenged jergal all those centuries ago have been annhilated utterly, the people they once were swallowed entirely within their divine aspects. its ruined all of them, to varying degrees, but its bhaals obsession with maintaining himself at any cost, his awareness of his own precarious position and tenuous grip on his own divinity that has him acting out so aggressively

[itacats]

Part 4 - A New Distraction

FT: Price x Reader (Detective AU)

Warnings: Stalking, obsessive behavior, psychological manipulation, graphic violence, and mature themes.

Word Count: 2,207

SUM: After your painful breakup with Liam, you seek a distraction through online dating and begin conversing with Mark, a seemingly perfect match. However, his attentiveness quickly turns unsettling as he begins sending gifts and messages that feel invasive. Meanwhile, you’re consumed by a serial killer case, where the killer seems to know you personally. As Mark’s behavior grows increasingly disturbing, you begin to fear that your new connection may be tied to the killer, and the lines between personal danger and professional chaos blur.

A/N: Okay, folks, this just got real. 😬💀 Can’t decide if I’m more scared for you or for us reading this. Let me know what you think—are we in too deep now?

Love Kills Masterlist

After Liam, the ache in your chest feels like an endless hollow void, sharp and unrelenting. Every corner of your life seems touched by the breakup, from the quiet of your apartment to the songs that once brought you joy. The case files piled on your desk don’t help—they’re a relentless reminder of lives shattered, of a puzzle you can’t seem to solve.

You need something—anything—to fill the void.

The decision to try online dating feels impulsive, reckless even, but you’re desperate for a distraction, and you convince yourself it’s harmless.

Creating a profile feels strangely vulnerable, like baring a piece of yourself to strangers. You agonize over the details, editing and re-editing until the words seem to form a version of you that even you don’t entirely recognize. It’s just a distraction, you remind yourself, hitting “submit.”

Days pass in a blur of monotony—swiping through profiles, exchanging half-hearted greetings, and deleting messages that don’t spark interest. Then, one evening, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Mark-ed4Luv: “Hey there! Love your taste in music. Want to talk about it?”

The message is simple, almost casual, but something about it cuts through the haze of your day. You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing a reply.

Cupid’sDetective: “Sure! I’m really into indie and alternative—what about you?”

His response is quick, thoughtful, and surprisingly specific:

Mark-ed4Luv: “Those genres have so much depth! I’m into them too, but I can’t resist a good classic rock playlist. Have you ever tried journaling while listening to music? It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

A small smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. His words are unassuming yet genuine, carrying a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

Mark becomes a constant presence in your days. At first, it’s harmless—friendly exchanges about books, music, and life. But as days turn into weeks, his messages take on a more personal tone, filled with thoughtful observations and surprising attentiveness.

“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he admits one evening. The words linger on the screen, their sincerity both comforting and disarming.

It’s not just his words that draw you in; it’s the way he remembers the smallest details. The novels you mentioned only in passing, your favorite coffee blend, the lilies you once said were beautiful but fleeting. His thoughtfulness feels like a balm, soothing the wounds Liam left behind.

When bouquets of lilies and handwritten notes begin arriving at your doorstep, you’re caught off guard by their sweetness. Each gift feels like a piece of him, deliberate and intentional.

But soon, the sweetness turns cloying. The attention that once felt comforting begins to weigh on you, like a coat too heavy for its season.

“How did you know about the mints?” you text him one evening, staring at the small tin he sent—your favorite flavor, no less.

Mark-ed4Luv: “I pay attention,” he replies, his words deliberate. “It’s the little things that matter most.”

His response should be reassuring, but instead, it feels calculated. A pit forms in your stomach, but you push it aside. He’s just thoughtful, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

Meanwhile, the serial killer case spirals further into chaos. Another victim is discovered, their life extinguished in the same gruesome pattern. But this time, the killer leaves something new: a note addressed directly to you.

You still haven’t caught me. You never will.

The words feel like a slap, mocking your efforts and twisting the knife of doubt already lodged in your chest.

When Price calls to relay the details, his voice is tense. “This just got personal,” he says grimly.

You meet him at the precinct, your hands trembling as you read the note for yourself. The handwriting is deliberate, almost playful.

“You’re not yourself,” Price says, studying your face. “What’s going on?”

You shake your head, your mind racing. “I’m fine,” you lie, but the strain in your voice betrays you.

“Look,” Price says gently, “this killer knows you. They’re targeting you. And whatever’s happening in your personal life? It’s bleeding into this case.”

You nod, his words barely registering. Your thoughts are elsewhere—on Mark, on his uncanny attentiveness, on the unsettling coincidences piling up around you.

Mark’s messages continue, each one more intimate than the last.

“Hey, I found this little trinket that reminded me of you. Can’t wait to share it!”

His enthusiasm should feel endearing, but it sends a chill down your spine. The gifts, the attention, the perfect timing—it’s all too much.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you decide to confront him—gently, but directly.

“How do you always seem to know what I need?” you text, your fingers trembling.

His reply is immediate:

“I just listen. Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone who truly listens?”

The words feel like a mirror, reflecting your own desires back at you. But they also feel like a trap, wrapping you in a net of your own making.

Meanwhile, the killer’s shadow looms larger. Each new victim is a message, a cruel reminder of their power. And the line between the case and your personal life blurs further.

Late one night, your phone buzzes. An unknown number flashes on the screen.

“You’re closer than you think,” a distorted voice says before the line goes dead.

Your heart pounds as you stare at the phone, the room suddenly too quiet. The call is a taunt, a game, and you’re the unwilling player.

You begin piecing together the connections late one night, your apartment a labyrinth of crime scene photos, timelines, and scribbled notes.

The killer targets people with public-facing lives—an artist, a teacher, an accountant. People whose routines were predictable, whose lives were exposed in small, seemingly innocent ways.

The next morning, Price calls you into his office. “We’ve got something,” he says, sliding a folder across the desk. Inside are surveillance photos from one of the victim’s neighborhoods. 

A hooded figure lingers near the victim’s house, their face obscured.

“It’s not much,” Price admits, “but it’s a lead.”

You study the photos, the grainy images sparking a glimmer of hope, but every nerve in your body is on edge. “We need to track them. If we can figure out where they were before and after this…”

“We’re on it,” Price assures you. “I’ve already got a team on it. But you need to stay focused. Whoever this is, they’re watching you. Don’t let them get in your head.”

Easier said than done, you think, but you nod anyway.

As the days turn into weeks, the case consumes you. The notes stop, but the silence feels more ominous than the messages ever did. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched, that every step is leading you closer to a trap.

And then it happens.

One evening, as you leave the precinct, your car refuses to start. Frustrated, you pop the hood, only to find a single red rose lying on the engine block.

Your blood runs cold. The killer is closer than you ever imagined,  just like they said.

You call Price immediately. “They were here,” you say, your voice trembling. “They left a rose in my car.”

“We’ll handle it,” he promises, but you can hear the tension in his voice.

That night, sleep eludes you. Every creak of your apartment, every passing car outside, feels like a harbinger of danger.

You sit in the dark, your mind racing. This isn’t just about solving the case anymore—it’s about survival. And as you stare at the crime board on your wall, a chilling realization washes over you: the killer isn’t just watching. They’re waiting.

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Want to see what's up next? Click here!

[sensei-venus]

Omg um alpha!Jacob meeting new actress!omega!reader who is so soft and chubby and sweet and he's obsessed with her scent and long story short they get caught making oitnwhen they should be doing a scene together 😳😳😳

When everyone was told that a new member was being cast everyone was a little surprised but not overly shocked. Almost every other season they were getting new people. It was exciting for the older cast but nothing all too new.

That was until the first day the new girl was on set.

She was more so just thrown into everything as soon as she's hired. They basically toss her on to set after she reads the script.

“So have you met the new girl yet?” Xolo was the first to say something to Jacob. They both took turns practically destroying the staff buffet table. The two alphas had been on set all day doing practice scenes. Lucky for them they only had one major seen for the day before they could go home.

“Nope, didn't even know they were scheduled to show up for today's filming.” Jacob said while ripping into a fresh sandwich. All the physical activity made him work up a appetite. Xolo shrugged “She's pretty nice, I meet her while in the makeup trailer. Kinda cute too.” Jacob rolled his eyes. He was about to say something back to the cocky guy but something made him stop what he was doing. His head shot up as something tickled his nose.

What ever it was it smelled overly sweet and had his nose turned up. It made his gut squeeze just right. The urge to lick his lips came up but he stopped himself. It was almost as if he was losing his grip just from the smell.

“What the hell is that smell.” he hissed out, one hand covering his mouth and nose. A brow raised in question.

Xolo snorted while still trying to eat his own food “More like who, not what. That's Reader, the new girl.” Jacob looked at him with wide eyes.

“I can smell her from here and I can't even see her! Did they really hire a omega who isn't on suppressants and not tell the all most ALL alpha cast about it?! That's kinda dangerous, to everyone.” he hissed. The other alpha pipped up “Hey, Mary is omega.” Jacob resorted back “Well Mary told everyone when we were all hired and she's on suppressants too.”.

Jacob spends the rest of the day trying to stay as far away from her as possible. He doesn't know why his senses are so messed up. His stomach I s all twisted up and he can't tell of its in a good or bad way. It has him on edge the whole time he is on set.

He thinks everything is fine once they wrap and everyone gets to go their separate ways. He wants to get the fuck off the set as soon as the directors yell cut.

He's halfway to the parking lot when the omega’s sent increases by ten-fold. Looking around he finally catches sight of her for the very first time. In that moment he knows she has to be his. She's so cute even from far away. She looks soft, her chubby body drawing him in. Chubby omegas were a dream come true, at least in Jacobs's own opinion.

From afar he could see her talking to Tanner and Mary, laughing at something they said. The three of them walked through the parking lot unaware of him. Just hearing her, seeing her, smelling her had Jacob wanting more.

Most importantly he wanted to rip Tanner away from her.

He was quick to run to his car after that thought.

After that day he try a to get to know her. He finally meets her face to face and they talk. At first he finds her super sweet. The two talk on set a lot mostly about the roles they are playing on the show. Then it slowly turns to what they do in their personal lives. He's not at all surprised when she shows a lot of interest in more omega like things. He finds it adorable when she goes on and on about new blankets she bought after work. Or going out to eat at little cafes and restaurants. She loves spending time with Mary. Apparently she didn't have a lot of omega friends on the last set she was on so it's nice to meet more.

But once again he hates it when she talks about Tanner and Peyton tagging along with the omega after filming. He feels like he should be the alpha tagging along with them.

His distaste only builds and builds as the weeks of them knowing each other go on. He tries to put himself between all the other alphas and her when ever he can. The whole time he believes he's being so sneaky about it but in reality everyone can see what he's doing. The other alphas just secretly laugh about it. It's kinda funny to watch him make a fool of himself.

That is until they get caught making out behind Jacobs trailer.

Both of them are MIA after checking in at the makeup department. After an hour or two of them being no-shows to the set, the directors send out a tiny search party aka the whole cast.

Funny enough Mary and Tanner are the ones to find them.

The scent the two of them make is just- something that can't be described.