#i spent WAY too long trying to pick a background color for this

[djkinski]

[j0kers-light]

Dear Chaos, sorry I've been so absent lately. A lot has been happening lately but I just wanted to say that the latest HL chapter is just perfection🫶

I do have another idea for a request. What if HL got in a car accident while on the phone with J? He goes out to find her but she is not at the scene anymore. Maybe because she was taken to the hospital or taken hostage by two face.

No rush my love, take all the time you need. You're the best!

His Lighthouse: Broken Promises (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Promises - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi @darthjokerisyourfather 🖤✨

Never apologize for living your life! I should apologize for this crappy title. I don't like it. 🙃 I thank you so much for requesting this! You always manage to pull me out of my writer's block with your beautiful imagination! I also thank you for your patience and your kindness. Just how long did you wait for this? 😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖😖 ugh, please don't hate me love! *dodges flying tomatoes*

Chaos loves you and hopes that you enjoy! If not, you know I can go back to the drawing board and try again!

More importantly, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message!

Joker must have forgotten. That was the only explanation you had for his absence. 

You sat in a fancy Gotham City restaurant trying not to let the pitiful glares bother you. The low murmurs of surrounding conversations and the constant clinking of chinaware did nothing to block the embarrassment you felt.  

A giant red, ‘I got stood up’ sign was painted on your forehead. The mocking snickers and pitiful looks became more obvious as time passed.  

You wanted to keep a glimmer of hope that Joker was coming, yet you sat alone at the table, nursing your favorite drink and eating too much bread to be considered healthy.  

During the second, or maybe the third basket, you came to the heartbreaking conclusion. 

Joker forgot about the date that HE organized.  

Why were you not surprised? This was Joker after all and unfortunately, this had become the norm as of late.  

You flicked breadcrumbs from your fingers before smoothing your dress down for the umpteenth time. There were probably noticeable wrinkles with how much you clenched the fabric throughout the evening. More importantly, you hated that you got all dolled up for nothing.  

The formfitting dress in your favorite color was brand new and you spent countless hours taming your natural hair into a new hairstyle to compliment your outfit.  

Your curls were defined and voluminous framing your face and pretty jewelry adorned your skin helped complete the look.  

Just thinking about the time and energy you wasted for this failure of a date made you tear up until you remembered your mascara was not waterproof. You refused to let your emotions get the better of you in public. It was already humiliating enough and a gorgeous blonde two tables away kept rubbing in your embarrassment with her sharp red lips curling into a smirk every time she laughed. 

You would bet a penny she was a true mean girl back in high school.  

You didn’t want to wallow in this misery any longer. Joker was obviously not coming, so it was time for you to leave.  

Maybe on the way home you could pick up some ice cream and perform some self-care to restore your mood. A nice warm bath with candles and a good playlist in the background would clear up the disappointment you felt.  

Oh, but leaving would take a herculean effort. You would have to put on a brave face and walk out with the entire restaurant staring at you. Alone.  

The things Joker put you through.  

You cleared your throat and plastered a fake confident smile on your face to flag down the waiter. She was already on standby. Bless her. She kept your glass following throughout the night and she didn’t judge you with each basket of bread delivered to your table. 

She been in the industry long enough to know you were stood up. It broke her heart to see you, a beautiful woman, plagued by a man and his ignorance. She and a few other waiters would foot your bill. It was the least they could do to help a fellow sister in need. 

The world needed more girls like her in it. Her supportive smile gave you the energy to stand up tall as you walked out.  

But the second you got into the driver’s seat of your SUV, the floodgates opened with no end in sight. Screw your makeup, you were holding this sob fest in for hours.  

You probably looked a hot mess crying in the car but more than anything, you were mad at Joker for not keeping his promise. Again.  

It wouldn’t be as heartbreaking if this was the first time he left you hanging. Oh no, this was a reoccurring issue.  

You were so tired of being treated like the middle child. Joker needed hear about this. It was his fault you were feeling miserable. 

Deep down, you just wanted to hear his voice. Maybe this was all some big misunderstanding!  

Despite arriving at the restaurant ten minute early, (and triple checking to make sure it was the correct one) perhaps you were in the wrong and not Joker. Any and all excuses floated inside your head to cut Joker some slack. Because if he was truly at fault, then your heart would simply shatter. 

You temporarily stopped the waterworks to find your phone and dial a number you knew by heart. It rang until Joker’s raspy voice reached your ears. “Heyy Bunny. What a uhh unexpected surprise!”  

His words made your heart develop a stress crack. You choked back a sob and Joker instantly heard it. “Bun what’s wrong?” 

“D-Did you forget about tonight?” You glanced out the window as a few cars passed by. 

“Uhhhh.. tonight?” Joker mumbled the word over and over trying to jog his memory.  

You didn’t know if he was making fun of you or if he genuinely couldn’t recall. Either way, you were fed up. “Our date night! The one that you made reservations for!” you sobbed. 

“Oh. That. I err.. lost track of time.” You couldn’t take it anymore. Joker’s nonchalant tone was your tipping point.  

“Light, are ya still there?” He asked when you didn’t reply. When you did, you had plenty to say. 

“Lost track of time? You? Lost track of... please tell me you are joking? I sat at our table for two hours waiting for you! Everyone made fun of me for being stood up while you lost track of time!”  

“Aww don’t cryy! I can be there in—” 

Your tone was sharp and firm, “Don’t bother Joker.” you started the SUV as you put your seatbelt on with your other hand. “I’m going home.”  

There was a brief delay in the phone signal as it connected to the car’s system, but you still heard Joker’s string of no’s. “Let me make it up to ya!”  

He really thought you would give him another chance? Your lips silently recited the apologizes that oozed from Joker’s lips like oil. 

“Tonight was supposed to be you making up for ditching me last week or have you forgotten? Urgh! You keep putting me off J, and it isn’t fair!”  

You pulled the car into drive and exited the car park. Joker hated to hear your accusations, but you were right.  

His line of work had recently picked up and every time he made plans with you, they were delayed or flat out cancelled to make way for something more nefarious.  

He was putting work over you, something he vowed never to do. That did not mean he would tolerate you talking back to him like you were. “Y/n, I am—” 

“Save it Joker! Your apologies mean nothing when your actions don’t follow suit.” He heard your blinker on in the background as he tried to make amends.

It wasn’t good to be driving in your current emotional state and trying to tell you what to do would only stir up more attitude from you. 

It was worth a try. He could deal with a bratty bunny later.  

“Doll, can ya pull over so we can talK about thiss? I can uhh, meet up with ya and we can do something. Just. Us.” 

That was new.  

You pondered the suggestion for a second and began turning onto a deserted backroad. It would take you straight to your apartment in a fraction of the time it would take driving on the highway. “No, Joker, I’m done listening to—” 

The unnatural sound of metal clashing and scraping against metal violently pierced through the phone’s speakers and cut you off mid sentence.  

It twisted loudly, making horrifying cracks and pops that lasted for ages—when it was just a matter of seconds. Joker’s keen ear knew what was occurring, but it didn’t seem real.  

These things shouldn’t happen to his Light. Joker made sure your vehicle was military grade. Nothing should have been able to topple it over, much less allow it to roll twice. He just sat helplessly, listening to the impossible unfold.  

As the metal settled, the phone called continued in eerie silence. Then he waited and waited, hoping this to be nothing but a dream.  

Maybe it was another car and you were stunned into silence. The only downside, he couldn’t hear you breathing.  

“Bunny. B-Bun? No… m-my Light? Y/n?” 

Joker used every nickname he had for you but none provoked a response. So, Joker flat out started to beg. “Y/n.. please..  

His pleas died out the moment he heard a new sound. Footsteps on broken glass. Two sets at that which were approaching to wherever your phone was tossed.  

“F__k, did you have to ram her so hard? The boss wants her alive remember? See, she’s unconscious!” A gruff voice said.  

Joker honed in on the voice like a bloodhound and narrowed his eyes when another person spoke up with a much thicker Gotham accent.  

“Even better for us. Grab her feet, I’ll get her shoulders. N’hurry up before someone comes.” 

“Don’t rush me! Agh, I can’t get a good grip, she’s all bloody!” 

Joker’s heart plummeted to his stomach. You were more injured that he thought. His mind already started to visualize the worst scenario imaginable.  

The two men continued to bicker although Joker tuned out their useless chatter. He didn’t want to believe what he just heard.  

Two men deliberately rammed you off the road. Gotham City was vast and Joker had many enemies both local and abroad. Narrowing down exactly who did this would be impossible, although he had a clue who the culprit was.  

Joker was still in lala land when Frost cleared his throat.  

He didn’t care about J taking a call during the meeting, but he could tell something wasn’t right. Joker had frozen up like a statue halfway through and it took Frost kicking J’s chair to snap the clown out of whatever rabbit hole he fell in.  

Before Frost could speak, J beat him to it. “Track B’s car. I need a location, now.”  

The room went silent at the shaky tone Joker used. He could care less about showing weakness in front of his men. He would worry about optics later.  

Right now, you were the only constant on his mind.  

Frost didn’t ask for context; he did what he was told and seconds later, he voiced his findings to the room.

“That’s weird.” He tapped the keyboard again to get more accurate data. “It's on the stretch of Kane St, idle and with the engine off.” 

He looked up into the turbulent waves that made up Joker’s eyes. No words were needed. This was a full-on Nightfall procedure. You were in danger.  

Frost hoped that whoever hurt you had enjoyed their life because the wrath of Joker was coming to reap their soul.  

Not a word was spoken when the four men arrived at the scene.  

All that was left of your vehicle was a mangled wreckage still smoldering in the dead of night. Frost sought out to find any evidence while Neo and Mac took pictures. Joker was like a ghost watching it all unfold.  

He found one of your shoes lying nearby and picked it up with shaky hands.  

It was new with hardly any scuff marks on its lacquered surface despite the crash. He could only imagine the outfit you paired with the designer heel.  

That thought racked him with guilt.  

If only he made time to see you tonight and shielded you from this avoidable fate.  

How could he blow off something so precious as spending time with his Light? Work was never more important than you and Joker was faced with the consequences of not cherishing you while he had the chance.  

He had to get you back and treat you like the goddess you were.  

“Hey Boss, we found something!”  

Joker snapped himself out of his thoughts and walked over to Mac who was holding up something. A hastily written note signed off by Two Face’s gang logo. Joker was right to assume the former attorney had a hand in this.  

“Its Two Face. When do you want to retaliate, Boss?” Neo asked.  

All four men shared a look. What a loaded question. They would act now and show no mercy. Each of them would do whatever it took to get you back safe and sound.  

You woke up with a splitting headache and parched throat. Oh, and you were tied up in some dingy room.  

Honestly, you had to stop winding up in these types of situations. Ever since Joker entered your life, being kidnapped was always a possibility you had to consider occurring.  

Today just happened to be your unlucky day.  

Calming down your heart rate and taking in your surroundings took a bit of effort. It hurt to move your head, and you grumbled under your breath while trying to blink away the unwanted inertia. 

Someone was smart enough to keep you lying down, but you couldn’t move your arms or legs. Not like you wanted to. 

You were still coming to when a presence made themselves known with their loud voice. It made your head pound even worse.  

“Good, good! You’re finally awake. You are very hard to get a hold of, my dear. Always protected. Never alone..”  

You managed to turn your head enough to see Harvey Dent pacing the room, talking to himself. His alter ego, Two Face was currently talking and you heard the not so pleasant choice of words he used regarding you.  

He had quite the colorful vocabulary and it was obvious out of the two men who held a grudge against you. When he noticed your curious eyes on him, he smiled wide.  

Even his voice changed with the change in personalities.

This one was gravelly to match Dent’s grotesque burned face. “I’ve been dying to prosecute you in the court of law.” 

You did not have the mental capacity to argue with a schizophrenic psychopath. All your energy was spent on closing your eyes to block out the headache wreaking havoc on your skull. You didn’t care if you were being rude.  

It was rude to crash into people’s cars and forcibly take them to undisclosed locations so... You were matching Dent’s energy.  

‘Not today, Satan. Not today’ you mentally said.  

Or perhaps you said it aloud since you heard Harvey’s aggravated shouts followed by something being knocked over and breaking.

It seemed that even grown men could throw temper tantrums. That was not your problem. Your problem was trying to stay awake.

You were beginning to suspect you had a concussion, or worse, some kind of neck injury. The last thing you were going to receive was medical attention, so lying still was your best bet until help arrived.  

That thought put a frown on your face. You could not rely on Joker nowadays. 

Would he even notice that you were gone? You abruptly hung up the phone mid argument; he probably disregarded you and became distracted by something more important.  

A time ago, you were the only thing important to Joker. Everything else was secondary. My, have things changed.  

Now you wished that Joker would become the possessive lover you knew him to be and come save you.  

You were certain that he placed a tracker in your lighthouse necklace.. the one you removed since it clashed with your outfit for the night.  

Great. The one time you took it off!  

You felt like such an idiot despite all of this being Joker’s fault. If only he cared more, he would’ve been with you tonight to avoid this. Now you were at the mercy of Two Face and whatever motive he made up to justify abducting you.  

There was nothing you could do to escape your current predicament.  

You were just upset and disappointed in Joker, and with that, you let a single tear slip down your cheek as you fell unconscious.  

The next time you came to, you didn’t bother opening your eyes. You just groaned in defeat and let whoever pick you up and carry you off. And that was probably for the best.  

Unbeknownst to you, it was a literal war zone.  

If you did in fact open your eyes, the carnage that Joker created to rescue you, would have scared you back to sleep. You would declare Joker a monster after seeing just how far he would go for his Bunny.  

Any other day he would deny his true nature, all for the sake of being worthy enough to bask in your light. Tonight, he had no such compulsion. 

He had no shame in carrying his Light while being drenched in blood. He was a fallen angel personified.  

Even as Joker rounded a corner to leave, he helped a man take their last breath by lodging a bullet between their eyes. Quick and efficient, the punishment did not befit the crime of touching what Joker considered as his.  

The two men who initially rammed you off the road got off lucky.  

Joker struck a one-time deal with the Penguin to use the massive great white shark the Englishman kept locked up in a tank underneath the Iceberg Lounge. It was a natural garbage disposal and Joker had two pieces of trash he wanted to get rid of.  

Joker thought being fed to sharks was tame compared to the ideas still swimming in his head.  

His dark smile sent shivers down the backs of his own men and they wisely avoided their eyes as Joker passed. No one was safe from the murderous gleam in J’s eyes.  

That is, all but one. You.  

He was a completely different person tonight. The slaughter was personal, the attacks more brutal and practically inhumane, and it was all done to avenge his goddess.  

Joker was out for blood, and he most certainly collected it.  

He held your slumbering body close as he ordered Mac to detonate the bomb and reduce the building to rubble. If anyone was lucky enough to escape Joker’s initial siege into the building, there was no hope of survival now.  

Just the way he planned it.  

A shame Harvey got an anonymous tip and fled before Joker arrived. J would have loved to see the other side of Dent’s face burn to a crisp for touching his Light.  

Speaking of. Joker’s haunting green eyes looked away from the blazing inferno and down at his sleeping beauty.  

There were minor cuts and bruising forming from being caught up in your car crash, yet he was more worried about the dried blood ruining your once pristine hair.  

Your beautiful features were marred by pain that Joker could have prevented. You needed medical attention and some good old-fashioned love and affection.  

And just like that, all of Joker’s bloodlust was extinguished to devote his attention onto you.  

He had weeks of apologizing to do to earn your trust and love back, but for now, he needed you back in good health.  

Joker softly kissed your forehead and let his goons drive him to the nearest safe house where Sarai would have a look at you.  

It was high time that Joker re-appointed you back as the most important thing in his life, and it started with showing that he cared about you and only you.  

[crimsonhydrangeavn]

Hey there! I'm here to simp for Garret, as usual, but I have another reason to gush today—I absolutely adore your drawing style! Whether it's the colors, the character designs, or the scenes, I just love it all. One of my favorite things, though, has to be the characters' facial expressions—they are all just beautiful!

Marcelo's surprised face? Perfect. Rita's blushing cheeks? Adorable. Camilla's entire design? Has a special place in my heart. And don't even get me started on Teagan's smile—it's so cute, it's almost unfair. But, of course, my ultimate favorite is Garret. I can't handle it when he furrows his eyebrows, whether he's pissed off or has that smug look like he's just hit the jackpot. It's all just so perfect!

Anyway, I do have a question for you—do you have any tips for creating character designs? I feel like the way your characters look perfectly matches the vibe they give off, and I'm starting to work on my own visual novel, but I'm having a hard time nailing down the character designs and I felt I could find good advice from you.

Additionally, I apologize in advance for all the fangirling and for my poor English. I hope nothing I said came across as rude or inconvenient, truly 🙏.

Thanks so much, and I hope you have a fantastic day! ❤🌻

Thank you so much for your incredibly sweet ask! Please, please, please NEVER apologize for gushing about characters for fangirling over them! It always brings a massive smile to my face and I really appreciate hearing how much you enjoy them! <3 I'm incredibly flattered that you reached out to me for advice on character creation and I'll do my best to share my process with you! Granted there are a million different ways to do things so these are just a few things that I've found that helps me in the creation process.

I'll give you a little background about me and my character/story creation journey so you can get a better understanding of my background in writing/character development.

You see I've been a huge fan of text roleplay for the majority of my life. I actually started roleplaying on gaiaonline when I was 12 and I've been doing it ever since. ( Almost 20 years at this point! damn am I old lol) As a result I've had a lot of practice creating and interacting with different kinds of characters in different settings. I've also been playing DnD on and off since high school. That being said, I've had time to refine my craft and create characters that I personally really enjoy and align with to some degree. ( And hopefully you do too!)

That being said, I'll list a few tips and tricks I've picked up over the years below!

Anatomy is key! Yes, my characters are stylized, however I spent a long time studying anatomy and getting a solid sense of proportions, ratios, and musculature. Am I perfect? Absolutely not, but I'm at the point that I can usually notice if there's a glaring error/ something looks really off.

Make sure to put all of the characters in a line up once they're designed! Are their heads the same size? What about their hands and feet? Some slight variations are natural, but if one character's head is noticeably larger than the others, then I'd take the time to adjust. The same could be said for colors. Is one character SUPER saturated while the others are more muted? Unless they're supposed to stand out, consider reworking the colors to make them feel a bit more cohesive.

A basic understanding of color theory is always a bonus in my book! I'd also consider making a general color palette for your game. That way it'll help you make sure everything looks and feels as though it's in the same world.

When I first create a character, I try to think of a general concept of what I want them to be. What's their general vibe? What do they look like? What's their personality like? Ect. Once I have a general vibe down, I try and do a bit of visual research on tiktok, pinterest, tumblr, google, ect. For example, I might have a general idea of what a typical frat bro or sorority girl looks like, but until I actually do the research and look into the kinds of things they wear, how they speak, and their general lifestyle, and real life examples of these kinds of people they'll feel like a flat caricatures of what they actually are.

Then, once I have the general vibe nailed down I start doodling them and playing around with different hairstyles, outfits, body types, ect. I actually have a few different different versions of all of the characters for Crimson Hydrangea! I rarely end up going with my first sketch/ concept when it comes to most of my characters. I also like exploring with different skin tones, colors, and textures/designs.

It takes a lot of thought and trail and error, but once I finally create a character that I'm visually happy with, I really start delving into their personality, backstories, and general psyche. What are their likes, dislikes, positive traits, and flaws? What are their motivations, fears, and traumas? How self aware are they? Then I start asking myself slightly more introspective questions to help me relate to the characters a bit more. What about this character resonates with me? How can I make this character feel more real? What are some traits that we share? For example, Garret inherited my unhealthy perfectionism, Marcelo inherited my love of food and desire to make sure those around me are happy and comfortable, Camilla inherited my sarcastic sense of humor, Rita inherited my unyielding sense of responsibility and unhealthy work-a-holic tendencies, and Teagan inherited my deep rooted insecurities. Granted most of these characters take it to a completely new level than I do in my real life, but at least on a basic level I can relate to them and understand their motivations. That being said, I don't think all of your characters need to inherit a specific trait of yours, it's just something I recently realized I tend to do on a subconscious level to help me write them with a bit more depth.

Let your characters develop a life of their own within your story. It's okay if they end up changing from your initial concept. People in real life are complex and don't always fit into a specific mold no matter how hard they try. They grow and change over time, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. Do what feels right for the story you're trying to tell. For example, Garret was originally supposed to be more calculated and methodical. Marcelo was originally supposed to be a lot more laid back and go with the flow. However when I actually started writing them in specific scenarios I realized that they're far more complex than a simplified list of traits. Flaws and weaknesses make them feel so much more real than a "perfect" gary/mary stu.

When it comes to facial expressions, I usually have a small mirror on my desk to observe and reference specific expressions I'm trying to convey. In addition to using the mirror as a reference point, I also tend to make whatever face I'm drawing as I'm drawing it. It's a little silly, but I find it really helpful feeling my facial muscles recreate the same expression. It helps me figure out what the brows, eyes, and mouth are doing at the same time. It's gotten to the point of doing it subconsciously whenever I work/animate/draw. (Fortunately I usually work from home so no one has to see my weird expressions lol)

I think the final and most important tip you should take to heart is to create characters you genuinely enjoy. It'll also help you stay motivated to keep writing them and developing the story, especially early on in the creation process.

Hopefully you found my rambling helpful! It ended up being a bit more of a brain dump than I originally intended haha. That being said, I'd love to see what kind of characters and game you end up creating in the future! <3

[farfromstrange]

Hey can I make a Matt Murdock request. It's Matt and reader's wedding day, and Matt remembers how you met in st. Agnes , the little adventures you had and how sister Maggie caught you trying to sneak out which sometimes worked out

I want to apologize for taking so long to write this! I'm so sorry. I just spent the past four hours pouring my whole soul into this because this request was just so beautiful... Like seriously, I have tears in my eyes. I listened to a lot of love songs while writing this, and I hope I could match up with your expectations. Thank you for your request and enjoy! <3

You Are The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: On the day of your wedding, Matt thinks back to your time together at the orphanage.

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. (not proofread though)

Word Count: ~6.8k (oops)

The church bells play an all too familiar tune. It echoes off the high walls that are adorned with colorful paintings and stone sculptures that are as old as time. Clinton Church stands taller than he is, but he doesn’t feel suffocated by it, not today.

Matt Murdock grew up on religion and has lived by his faith in God ever since. He fell into several dark holes over time, but he crawled out of them and he picked himself up again. He played this tiring game for a while. He never felt like he truly belonged anywhere. He was lost. And then you stepped back into his life.

After his father died and he was taken in by the St. Agnes orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt had more than just his grief to deal with. The accident that blinded him a year prior turned his life upside down and no one knew.

His father knew he was blind, of course, but no one knew about how he could suddenly smell or hear much better than before, and that it was worse than the usual enhancement of one’s senses after becoming blind. His senses became heightened to the point he could pick up everything around him with his ears, nose, and hands alone.

It has been the most exhausting experience, especially as a little boy, he thought about giving up many times because it confused him and it made him bitter, and then his father died and the only person he could trust was gone, too.

He felt so utterly alone, he had nightmares, he was traumatized and the children at the orphanage didn’t like him much, either. He was a broken boy, and he had no one to turn to but the sisters taking care of him. But after a while, even that support stopped when more children arrived, and he chose to fight this battle on his own. He didn’t want to bother anyone. He was lonely, but he accepted that he just wasn’t that important and that sometimes, life goes a certain way.

Matt told himself God blinded him for a reason. He tried to find a purpose in his heightened senses and whatever else came with the accident and his father’s wrongful death, but with each passing day in this small bedroom with the church bells ringing in the background, causing his head to spin with their audacity, he lost more and more of the hope he swore himself he would keep. He wasn’t just alone, he adopted this feeling of loneliness and ran with it, turning more and more into an outsider. But he also had nothing to show for himself as the other kids did. He was blind, he was different, and that was never appreciated.

One day though, after spending most of his time hiding away in a corner, listening to the people around him and judging them in his own way, a set of small footsteps approached where he was sitting in the garden behind the orphanage.

He remembers the way your dress brushed against your tights, a sound he found annoying and painful at first, but he quickly got used to it. He remembers how you walked up to him with almost determined steps after Sister Maggie showed you the way and dropped you there for you to explore. He remembers your little sigh when you realized how far away he was from the other kids, but you didn’t turn around and leave when you noticed his black-rimmed glasses or the cane next to him.

You stopped in front of him, and Matt did not once forget the sound of your voice when you first spoke to him, “Is this seat taken?” he remembers you asking, and you sounded a lot nicer than the other children.

He frowned, at first, because he wasn’t used to being talked to. He figured you must be playing with him. But you didn’t stop there.

You chose to sit down next to him, and you smiled when you said, “I like your glasses, by the way.”

He remembers turning his head in your direction, signaling he was listening. You took that as an invitation to introduce yourself. Your name rolled beautifully off your tongue, and he stored it away instantly, along with the sound of your voice.

“I’m Matt,” he chose to tell you.

You smiled even brighter and took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Matt,” you said.

Eight years, that’s how long you stayed. And during those eight years, you became inseparable. He confided in you about his heightened senses, and when Stick came around and left as fast as he had appeared, you were the one who picked up his broken pieces.

The first field trip you took together was to Central Park. The sun was shining brightly that day. Sister Maggie and some of the other nuns accompanied your group, and you quickly found your spot next to Matt. It was the first time he wasn't stuck with an adult during a day out, and he was so flustered, he remembers forgetting his words when your cheery nature found a place next to him.

Your heart has always been a steady sound in his ear, and back then, it grounded him whenever he had to face situations that made him uneasy. Field trips held so many different sensations that overwhelmed him, and he often felt as if his disability wasn't taken very seriously, but with you by his side, he could actually feel the sun on his skin rather than the heavy lump in his throat. He didn't want to cry on the way there; he listened to the beautiful sound of your voice, your laughter, and your excitement both infectious enough to make him smile, and it's something he swore he would always cherish. You had a talent, and he was the only one you used it on.

“Hey,” he remembers you saying when he was hiding away at the back of the group once again. You reached out to gently take his hand. “Don't worry, I'll be your guide today,” you said.

It wasn't pity, you actually enjoyed doing this for him. Even though it was hot outside, he ignored the sweat simply to hold your hand.

“What if…I get lost?” he remembers asking you, and you laughed at that-

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I've got you. Trust me.”

As you strolled through the park, you described everything you saw. You walked him through it the way you saw it, and he imagined how the world looked like through your eyes.

“The sky is so blue, Matt,” you said, pointing upward. “It stretches out like an endless canvas. And the clouds are little white specks of color that take different shapes wherever you look.”

Matt tilted his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “I wish I could see it.” It was the first time he actively admitted it to you, and your heart broke a little.

“But you can feel it,” you instantly tried to make him feel better. “The warmth of the sun on your skin, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair. You can smell the flowers. It's all there. Sight is so overrated, anyway.”

He stored your advice for another day, knowing that you weren't wrong. Next, you stopped near a bed of colorful flowers. You crouched down and reached out, picking one. The scent seemed familiar.

“Close your eyes and breathe in,” you instructed, holding the flower near his nose.

Matt followed your guidance, inhaling the sweet scent. “It's… it's beautiful,” he said.

“You see, Matt,” you said, “Beauty isn't just in what we see. It's in the little things we discover along the way.”

For someone who lost so much, you were a true optimist. You breathed fresh air into his life.

With each step, you continued to describe the vibrant colors, the rustling leaves, and the laughter of children in the distance. Matt's trust in you grew, and he found solace in the world you painted for him.

Of course, he could hear, smell and feel everything down to the smallest detail, but the way you described it was so different from the picture he had painted before, and he let you change his perspective. Your view of the world was much more beautiful than his, and he rather lived in a fairytale than take everything too seriously. With you, he could be himself. That was the first day he came to that realization, and his loneliness slowly started to die out.

That day, as you explored the park hand in hand, Matt realized that his blindness didn't define him. With you by his side, he discovered a newfound appreciation for the world and the beauty that could be found in even the smallest details.

The months passed by and turned into years, and you grew closer as friends. During the times you were allowed to play together, you never left each other’s sides, much to some of the nuns’ dismay, but Sister Maggie was the one who encouraged Matt to tie himself to you so he wouldn’t be as alone, and he gladly did it every time. She saw something in you that he could feel with every one of your fleeting touches and the sound of your voice, and your friendship became a lifeline he kept holding onto. But he was yours, too, which you told him many times before, and he told you he would be more than happy to show you the world through his senses. He made you feel seen and appreciated in a way no one has before, a job he took seriously enough to somehow take permanent residency in your life–but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The summer sun beat down on the small group of children from the orphanage as you made your way to a nearby lake. Sister Maggie never struggled to control the group and she was one of the nicer sisters who allowed you to do silly things others didn't, so you often used that to your advantage.

Being friends with Matt for three years, you gradually figured out who he is, and in return, you revealed parts of yourself. You were the duo most kids feared, which was one of the reasons why the boys stopped picking on him, and the girls had never even dared to say a bad thing about you. Still, you were the weird outcasts who always hung out together; you both prided yourself on that title and often made fun of it.

Laughter filled the air as you excitedly chatted about the day's adventure. Matt walked beside you, his cane tapping gently on the ground. His other hand rested on your arm. He didn't need it, he once admitted to you, but he still felt safer and more grounded, knowing he could hold onto someone in case something happened.

As you approached the shimmering lake, you couldn't help but notice Matt's hesitance. You turned to him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Matt,” you said, nudging his arm playfully. “Remember the promise we made when we were little? That we'd jump in a lake together someday?”

Matt's lips curled into a shy smile. “Yeah, I remember. But… I can't swim,” he said. “What if something goes wrong?”

You patted his back reassuringly. “You're not alone, are you?”

With newfound determination, Matt nodded, placing his trust in you once again. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks as you waded into the lake, the water lapping at your feet.

You turned to Matt, splashing water playfully. “Come on, Matt! The water feels amazing!”

He remembers the goosebumps on his skin, the eagerness in your voice. His uncertainty melted away when you reached out to help him inside somewhere he could stand, and he felt a little less scared about his ability to control the setting. With hesitant steps, he followed you, the soft sand beneath his feet giving way to gentle ripples in the water.

As you both ventured deeper, you guided Matt's hand to your shoulder, urging him to relax and float. “Just trust me,” you said.

Little did you know that he trusted you with his life already.

He took a deep breath, his body relaxing as he felt the water supporting him. A surge of joy filled your heart as you watched his confidence grow. You took his other hand, spinning in the water together, laughter echoing across the lake. He might have been standing on the sandy ground of the lake, but it still reminded him of the times his father took him to the pool. Sharing this moment with you felt… different, but in a good way, and he slowly started to warm up to the idea of enjoying a day in the water. You were always careful with him, and he knew you would never let him drown.

Time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the tranquility of the lake. The other children moved into the background, and Sister Maggie's pleas for you to be careful or even better, get out, met deaf ears as you got lost in each other's eyes. You were only twelve then, but it was like that day changed a lot in the way he felt about you, which is why he remembers that day vividly, still. You made him feel so alive that day, and it's a feeling he still gets whenever he looks into your beautiful eyes.

Matt's voice broke the peaceful silence, barely above a whisper. He said your name softly, something that always managed to make you smile. “This feels… it feels like a dream,” he said.

The warmth of the sun on your face mirrored the warmth in your heart. “No, Matt, this is real,” you told him. “This is our moment. And it's ours to keep.”

As you floated side by side, surrounded by the serenity of the lake, you both realized that this connection, this friendship, was something precious and unbreakable. Life without you seemed like an impossibility to him.

One month turned into twenty-four. You were teenagers, he remembers when your mischief took on a new size. You would appear in front of his door at random hours of the night, tapping on his door three times, before leaning against the wall. He would put on his shoes and grab his cane before making his way outside.

The first time it happened, he hissed at you, “Are you insane?! What if we get caught? Sister Maggie would ground us for the rest of our lives! Oh God–”

You cut him off with a giggle and told him, “We only live once, Matthew, and I am tired of spending every last minute of my life in this place. I wanna live! Please, just trust me. I have a plan.”

And from there on, you would sneak out any other night. You always found spots in nature for you to sit down and talk without people around. You shared stories, laughed, and cried together, and it worked as glue. You became even more inseparable.

Sometimes, you would take him to the lake, sit down with him and describe the night sky to him. You would point out constellations, tell him the meaning behind them and fantasize about life beyond what you could see. He was quick to dispute it because there could only be one God, so there couldn’t be any other universes out there, and once again you only laughed.

You both had a different take on religion; he’s always considered you a dreamer, and you never changed, which he found endearing because you believed in what you wanted to believe in, always. And you made sure you always got what you wanted.

You always snuck past Sister Maggie’s room and made it back in time. It worked almost always, except for the days when someone else was in charge of supervising you, and then you would have to wait until everyone was asleep to tap a steady rhythm against the thin wall of your dormitory.

The sole reason you learned Morse code was to communicate with Matt, knowing he could hear you wherever. In a time before everyone had a cell phone, it was your way of staying in contact.

A few more years passed. You both started maturing, growing up, and going through changes. Life became harder, but you stayed together. Your friendship blossomed, you continued to sneak out, and the one-time Sister Maggie caught you, she simply rolled her eyes and sent you back to your rooms.

That one pivotal night though when you were both sixteen and carefree, the night shimmered with an air of excitement as you sat by the peaceful lake by the orphanage, engrossed in Matt's animated storytelling. His voice had dropped sometime over the past year and it was a sound that would always send shivers down your spine.

He was full of enthusiasm as he shared the details of his latest discovery while he was doing research for a school presentation. You found yourself focused on his hands and his lips rather than the story, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine. When you looked into his eyes, his glasses long discarded, you seemed to realize something, and the silence from your end alarmed your friend.

Amidst the excitement in his voice, a new realization took hold. Matt was more than just your best friend; an undeniable connection went beyond friendship.

Caught amid this realization, you found yourself lost in the features of his face, your mind spinning. Matt's voice trailed off, and he noticed your gaze fixed on him, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Is there something on my face?”

Your mind raced to catch up with your feelings. Without uttering a word, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips against his. It was a spontaneous and slightly awkward first kiss, but Matt remembers every last second of it.

For a moment, the world paused, and you both froze, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. Uncertainty hung in the air, but then Matt's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. He traced your features, and they were so vulnerable and delicate that night.

He remembers swallowing, the panic that sent the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the strange change in the rhythm of your beating heart. “I, uh…” Matt tried to find the right words, but his mind was blank. Your lips left a tingling sensation on his own, and he somehow couldn't comprehend what was happening to his body. It was confusing. “That was… unexpected,” he said.

You felt mixed emotions swirling within you, but the desire to explore this newfound connection outweighed any awkwardness. Without hesitation, you leaned back in and kissed him again, this time more confidently, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

The awkwardness quickly melted away when Matt finally realized what he wanted, too. Your lips moved in harmony, exploring the tender and unfamiliar territory you found yourselves on.

The touch of Matt's lips against yours sent electric currents through your veins, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you.

Eventually, you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed.

“I… I don't know what to say,” he confessed.

You smiled at him. “Do we need to say anything?” you retorted.

Matt remembers the exact moment he realized that he fell fast and hard for you; it wasn't the kiss that proved his feelings for you, it was what happened after. You looked at him, brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and told him, “You're beautiful, Matthew. Inside and out.”

And that was the moment he first knew he loved you more than just a best friend. He would have walked through fire for you, and it was never a doubt in his mind. The realization hit him hard, but he somehow never questioned it. He realized he loved you, and from that moment on, he rolled with it.

Matt remembers that he only acted after hearing you say those words. He told you, “Says the most beautiful girl in this godforsaken place.”

He gently pulled you back into his embrace, his lips finding yours once more. You couldn't even berate him for the blasphemy because he was right, and you smiled against his lips; this was the day you both finally found a home.

A few years had passed since that fateful night by the lake, and your bond with Matt grew stronger.

On this particular night, you found yourselves drawn to the library. The quiet stillness of the space provided a temporary escape.

As you settled into a hidden corner, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the window. You found solace in each other's arms, curled into a corner on the window sill. Matt's arms were wrapped around you and he held you as tightly as he could.

His lips ghosted over yours and you kissed back. He sighed into your mouth, his large hand on your cheek holding you right there. “I wish I could stay with you,” you murmured.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “You know that's not a good idea,” he said.

“Why though?”

“For one, we'd get caught and two,” his hand stopped at your neck, feeling your pulse jump and he sighed, “I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Your cheeks flushed a bright red, and just as you're about to kiss him again (damn his silver tongue), he stops you with the same hand that's on your throat. “Sister Maggie,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to see Sister Maggie standing at the entrance of the library, her expression a mix of surprise, disappointment, and disapproval. The realization of the rules you were breaking washed over you.

You shot up into a sitting position and Matt followed suit. You had never been so ashamed in your entire life.

Sister Maggie's eyes flitted between you and Matt. The disapproving silence hung heavy in the air before she finally spoke.

“You two,” she said. “What on earth are you doing?”

“We, um…” You bit your lip. “We weren't doing anything, I promise!”

Matt quickly adjusted his shirt and agreed, “We're so sorry, sister.”

He remembers faintly how she lifted her finger. “I expected better from the two of you,” she continued. “As young adults, you should understand the importance of adhering to the rules and maintaining appropriate behavior within these walls. And in front of God? I taught you better than that! Up, both of you!”

Neither of you hesitated to get off the window sill. She approached you both. “Now, I suggest you both leave this library immediately and return to your rooms. There will be no further discussions about this matter.”

Her words cut deep, but you tended to forget where you were living sometimes. You exchanged a glance.

“You're lucky it was me who found you,” she said. “Now go! I don't want to see either of you wandering these walls at night ever again, are we clear?”

You nodded wildly. While you said, “Yes, Sister Maggie,” Matt found himself at a loss for words.

Without uttering another word, you followed Sister Maggie's order, slowly making your way out of the library. Each step felt like a punishment, he remembers.

Her actions had made it clear that the boundaries between friendship and romance were not to be crossed within the confines of the orphanage. You had to live with that.

Though once you were out of her earshot, your giggles filled the hallway, and Matt pinched your arm. “It's not funny,” he whispered.

You couldn't help but giggle again. He's always loved how you could laugh about everything. “I know, I know,” you said to him, trying to stifle your laughter. “But the look on Sister Maggie's face… I can't help it.”

Matt shook his head. “You're going to get us into even more trouble if you don't stop.”

You sobered up, realizing the truth in his words, and you both fell into a comfortable silence as you walked back to your rooms. The echoes of Sister Maggie's disapproval still lingered, a reminder of the boundaries that governed your lives.

As you reached the hallway that led to your respective rooms, you paused, facing each other. The dim light from the hallway cast soft shadows on your faces. You longed for him. Just one night with him would have fixed both of your sleep habits and it would have done you good, but you knew you had to part ways. It hurt, but it was a reality you came to live with.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I didn't mean to get us into trouble.”

Matt's expression softened as he reached out to gently touch your cheek. He made sure no one was around so he could touch you one last time, at least. “It's not entirely your fault,” he said. “We both got carried away.”

You nodded. “We should be more careful. We don't want to risk getting separated, do we?”

Never, he remembers thinking. Getting separated had sounded like torture then. “You're right,” he agreed. “We'll have to be more cautious from now on. It's not worth putting our future at risk.”

A mixture of disappointment and longing settled in your heart as you prepared to part ways for the night.

You hoped your relationship could survive this.

With a lingering touch, you both turned and retreated to your respective rooms, the weight of the night's events etching themselves into your memories.

You both knew the boundaries were in place for a reason and though it pained you, you were willing to respect them. You had to. You grew up there. The stolen moments and the unspoken promises would have to find solace in the hidden corners of your hearts until the time was right to let them flourish fully. At least that was what you told yourselves for the following 365 days.

When you turned eighteen and finished school, everything changed. Matt remembers that day as trauma, and maybe it partly was.

One day, as you returned from school, Sister Margaret approached you with a warm smile, handing you an envelope.

“Congratulations, dear,” she said. “A letter from Stanford arrived for you today.”

You froze.

Entering your room, you found Matt sitting on your bed, his head turning toward you as you entered. He sensed the strange weight in your hands, the unshed tears in your eyes, and his smile faded. “What's in your hands?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. Your heart dropped, he could hear it. And that was when you told him, “It’s a letter from Stanford.”

Silence hung in the air as Matt absorbed your words. This wasn't what you had planned together, and his world seemed to stop right then and there.

“Why didn't you tell me you applied?” Matt's voice held a touch of hurt.

Your heart sank, knowing that this was a conversation you couldn't avoid. “I didn't know how to bring it up,” you admitted. “I was scared… scared of what it would mean for us.”

His brows furrowed. “What does it mean for us? Are you planning to leave? We said we’d go to Columbia, why–Is this no longer something you want? Us? You and me, going to college together?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you rushed to explain, “No, Matt, it's not like that! I love you, and I want to be with you. But Stanford… it's an opportunity I've always dreamed of. I don't want to live with regrets if I don't even try. It's… it's a full-ride scholarship, Matty. It's not just an acceptance letter, it's an offer.”

He was happy for you, and in hindsight, he should have reacted differently, but he was so hurt. He looked away, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed. “But what about us?” he asked. “What about the plans we made? We made all these plans for the future…”

Unshed tears glisten in his unfocused eyes, and he could tell it broke you just the same to tell him.

“I don't want to lose you, Matt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The letter weighed heavy in your hands. “But I also can't ignore my dreams.”

“I won't ask you to give up your dreams for me. You know I wouldn't, but… I can't help feeling like you're just going down a path so far from mine, and… it scares me.”

The room filled with a heavy silence. The realization that a difficult decision lay ahead threatened to tear at the fabric of your love. You were so young, so naive, but you have always known just exactly what you wanted.

“I don't want to lose you,” you whispered, repeating your previous sentiment. “Maybe… maybe we can make it work, despite the distance.” Your eyes lit up, but the hope felt tainted. “We can try, right? We can promise to support each other and keep our love alive, even if we're apart.”

Matt's gaze softened. “I want to believe that,” he said, “but it won't be easy. We'll have to fight against the odds. Are we strong enough for that?”

“We'll never know if we don't try,” you said. “We owe it to ourselves to give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath, then opened his arms for you as so often and held you as you cried, not sure if out of sadness or excitement, but that stupid letter to Stanford was bound to change everything.

When you moved away to college, leaving New York and Matt behind, the contact you promised to keep up faded eventually. He got into law school, you made a living for yourself, your calls eventually stopped, no more letters or gifts, and after one particularly rough night of partying, that was it. You ended it.

Eight years washed down the drain because life has funny ways of breaking people apart. At first, Matt was sad, but he learned to move on and eventually became a lawyer, found friends, and moved on the same way you seemed to have done all those years ago.

But there came a time when he least expected it, and you promptly bumped into him in a courthouse in Hell’s Kitchen. Matt recognized you almost instantly from the sound of your voice alone, and even though he grew up and aged like fine wine, you called his name the second you looked into his red glasses.

As you locked eyes, the memories of your past came rushing back for both of you. It was pouring rain outside. Your hair stuck to your face as so did his, but he was still the same Matt from before, only older, and you also hadn't changed much.

“Matt?” you whispered in disbelief.

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, his hand resting on your arm. “Is it really you?” he asked after calling your name.

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you nodded. “It's me,” you replied softly. “I never thought I'd see you again. How- how have you been?”

He told you about his practice, he remembers, and you listened closely. You told him you were proud of him and then you told him about med school and how you were a resident now, but a slot opened up in Hell's Kitchen for a fellowship and you chose to move again. It was fate, almost.

His gaze softened as he listened to your breathing, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips, and the feelings he had pushed down for so long resurfaced. “I thought about you often,” he remembers dropping on you the second he caught his breath again

“I'm sorry,” you whispered back to him. “I let life get in the way, and I let go of something so special. I will never forgive myself for how we ended. I… we… I cared about you, Matthew. It wasn't just some stupid childhood fling for me.”

Matt's hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “We both made mistakes. We should have worked harder, it's not…You're not the only one who fucked up, so…”

You licked your lips. “We were too young,” you said.

“Yeah,” he instantly agreed without missing a beat, “We were. And a little dumb, maybe.”

You chuckled, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his eyes. “I've missed you,” you confessed. “I've missed us.”

“I've missed you too. Us. But especially you.”

The courthouse buzzed with activity around you, the hustle and bustle of lawyers, judges, and clients filling the air. But at that moment, it felt as if time stood still, and it was just the two of you. It reminded you of your childhood when you would spend time at the water together, whispering hushed promises underneath the night sky.

“Let's start over,” you suggested. And then you reintroduced yourself, telling him your name with that wonderful smile of yours, and he was enchanted all over again.

A smile tugged at the corners of Matt's lips, too, as he reached out to take your hand. “Matt Murdock,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”

That was the day everything changed. To think that day lies three years in the past now is something he still hasn’t wrapped his mind around, but fate brought you back together, and after months of pining and him hiding who he truly is to no avail, you finally took the first step.

You accepted that he is Daredevil without second-guessing or being mad at him. You walked through hell with him and you came out on the other side stronger than before, and Matt realized soon enough that he could never love someone as much as he loves you.

And on a beautiful Saturday in June, he asked you to marry him at the same lake you used to hide out as kids. You said yes, of course. He feared for a moment you wouldn’t, but you jumped into his arms as soon as he got on his knees, and the deal was sealed.

Matt can’t see, that is no secret. He thought it might ruin your wedding experience, but you reassured him you didn’t care about whether or not his eyes fell out of his head when you would walk down the aisle. He wishes he could see you in your dress, but he has made peace with the fact he couldn’t.

As he’s standing in the small room hidden away in Clinton Church now, nervously fiddling with the flower stuck to his suit jacket, he can’t help but recall all the little moments you shared while you were growing up, and how fate brought you back together when you both needed it the most. You picked each other up, and you saved each other’s lives.

You asked one of your bridesmaids to tell him to wait right there, and he has been standing there, looking out of the window at the small lake in the distance for a while now. He wonders what you’re doing, but Foggy told him to be patient, so he tries to swallow his curiosity and waits some more.

He never thought he would get married, but he remembers thinking one night as a boy that if he ever got married, he would only get married to you.

As the anticipation builds up, Matt's heart races with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He can hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching, followed by your heartbeat. You smell like flowers and vanilla, and the fabric brushing against your legs sounds soft, almost like his silk sheets.

The door to the small room creaks open, finally, and he holds his breath, bracing himself for the sight he would never be able to see. And then, there you are, standing at the doorway. Your dress, carefully chosen and adorned, flows elegantly around you. It's silk with lace adorning the top, but you made sure that it would feel nice to him and look good on you, still.

Matt's senses heighten when you enter, capturing every detail he can possibly perceive. Most of all though, he memorizes your heartbeat once again and takes a good whiff of the beautiful scent you carry with yourself. You are one hundred percent yourself and he has never been more in love.

Today, you don't have to sneak around or hide away, even though it still feels like it, in this room secluded from everyone else, and his heart races faster when he thinks about how full circle this moment feels.

You take a step closer, your footsteps soft against the floor. You're wearing heels, but you seem to walk comfortably in them. Matt's heart skips a beat when he hears your voice. "Matthew," you breathe. "I'm here."

With a gentle smile, you extend your hand. Matt reaches out, intertwining your fingers. You close in on him until you're right in front of him, and he blinks as if he can't believe it. You remove his glasses, tears already forming in his eyes from how many emotions crash into him, but you don't feel much better. Seeing his brown eyes search yours, you swallow the lump in your throat, and you try not to start sobbing right then and there.

Your pulse jumps under his fingers; he chuckles because it seems ironic that you're more nervous than him, so beautiful and innocent. You're his everything, his world, the reason he's still alive, and he can never repay you for all you've done for him.

His fingertips graze the delicate fabric of your dress. He traces the intricate patterns, feeling the smoothness and intricacy, the silk and the lace. You guide him a little, building up his confidence. He feels the slit that runs down your leg, the garter belt you're wearing, and he swears he might puke. Your face is next, and with that, he takes his sweet time. You close your eyes and let him explore. He cradles you so delicately, almost as if you're a porcelain doll.

His breath shudders. "Fuck," he murmurs. The reality of the moment hits him. The first tear escapes his left eye. He never thought he would have the opportunity to experience something like this, and now he is experiencing it with you, the love of his life. It feels so surreal, he can't breathe.

His voice quivers as he speaks. "You're breathtaking," he says. "I can't even…Jesus, you're amazing."

You choke up too, your lips curling up into a smile. "Don't make me cry," you retort. "You're gonna ruin my makeup, Prince Charming."

He joins in, his hand remaining on your cheek as he takes in the person that you are through his other senses. You feel so much closer like this. You're his and he is yours, forever.

You step closer. Matt's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. He always knows what you want, what you need, and he is more than willing to give it to you unconditionally.

"I love you," Matt whispers into your ear. "I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you until the end of time."

You swallow the tears that threaten to fall. "I love you too. With every beat of my heart. I fell in love with you the second I saw you sitting there all alone," you say. "You're never getting rid of me."

He chuckles. "Oh, sweetheart, that's the reason we're here today in the first place. You don't get one without the other." Matt brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. "You're mine and I'm yours. Always and forever. I promise."

Just as you are starting to get lost in each other's eyes, the door creaks open, and Foggy's voice breaks the moment. "Am I interrupting something here, lovebirds?" he chirps.

You turn to see Foggy standing at the doorway, a playful smirk on his face. Matt releases you from his embrace, and the two of you share a sheepish smile.

"Not at all, Foggy," you reply, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "We were just having a moment."

Foggy chuckles. "Well, don't get too caught up in the moment. Remember, Matt, you can't kiss the bridge until the ceremony. That's what you told me to tell you," he says. "So, take a step back."

Matt rolls his eyes but follows his instructions. "Better?"

Foggy shakes his head. "Further."

"You want me to wait outside? You know this is my bride, right? And I can't even see her."

You laugh. Turning to your husband-to-be, you gently tug at his arm. "Guess you'll have to contain ourselves until then," you say.

“How will I ever manage that?” Matt retorts. “I only waited over a decade to get you back.” Followed directly by a dramatic sigh.

“Exactly,” you and Foggy say at the same time.

You glance at Matt, a silent understanding passing between you. You faced so much together, hand in hand, and this moment would be no different. You’ve never been big on traditions, anyway.

You turn back to Foggy. "We're ready,” you tell him. “And we've decided to walk down the aisle together.”

Foggy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but a smile quickly spreads across his face. "Well, I'll be damned!" he quips. "Leave it to you two to make things even more unique. Less work for me, I suppose. Let's get this show on the road then."

And as you take those first steps together, Matt realizes that you chatting him up all those years ago at St. Agnes was just the beginning of your story.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal

[roosterbruiser]

Now hold on!! What about an iceman blurb! Anything would work honestly

prompt I chose: I love the way your brain works.

"how's it going?" Ice asks from his spot on the sofa, glancing over at you on the loveseat. you're hunched over, eyes narrowed in concentration, lips tucked between your teeth. "don't hurt yourself."

"I'll bite you," you warn absently, not glancing up at him.

he smirks, just about to quip something witty back, when you drop your voice a few octaves and mock him, "I should be so lucky."

"trying to say I'm getting predictable or something, slugger?"

"love it when you talk baseball to me," you mutter, still not looking away from your deformed chain. "gets me real hot and bothered."

he can't wipe that grin off his face--that broad one that only you can stick on his lips for more than a few fleeting minutes.

your fingers are tangled in yarn, as are your forearms somehow, and you can't quite figure out how yarning over works or what the fuck chaining one even means. your concoction doesn't look great--hardly looks good, even--but it's much better than when you first started.

Ice knows that you're dedicated like this. you'll spend your day off picking up a new hobby and obsessively restart it until it begins to resemble something remotely successful. he admires it, really, how stubborn you are about it.

since this is a rare day off for him, too, he spent it doing the things he enjoys but hardly gets to do. he went for a run, grabbed decent coffee from the local roasterie, grilled steak for dinner. and now he's watching an old baseball game--except he's moreso been watching you diligently work on whatever it is you're making.

"whatcha making anyway?" Ice hums, raising his brows and craning his neck to look at the twists of yarn in his lap.

very seriously, you hold up a very uneven and pathetic rope that took you more time than you care to admit to complete, and look him dead in the eyes.

"a scarf," you tell him, "for you."

and dammit if he doesn't have a hard time keeping up that cool exterior. so much so that when he's at home with you, there's really no such thing as Iceman--he's just Tom. still, he tries to keep some semblance of composure.

"oh?" he asks, his heart pulsing with affection. with the baseball game still droning on in the background and totally forgotten, he pushes himself up on his elbows before nodding sharply for you to come to him. "c'mere. I wanna try it on."

you debate it for a moment, looking down at your creation. it isn't necessarily what you envisioned when you started out. it's certainly not thick enough to be a scarf--nor is it long enough to wrap around his throat twice.

"c'mon," he encourages, a grin tugging at his lips. "I won't bite."

and this time, Ice mocks you, raising his voice a few octaves and waggling his eyebrows: "I wish you would."

narrowing your eyes at him, but biting a smile all the same, you slink off the sofa and then settle yourself on his lap, a fair amount of blue yarn trailing behind you.

Ice, smirking, holds onto your thighs and watches as you detangle yourself from your creation, eyebrows knit.

"got it, slugger?"

"you're in the danger zone," you warn, all bark and no bite. "here."

he sits up and lets you wrap the scarf around his throat, never minding that it's the middle of summer in California or the fact that he only has on a tee-shirt and boxers right now.

and then you press your palms against his hard belly, lips pursed as you admire the color against his tanned skin. he's grinning up at you, massaging the meat of your thighs until you're squirming a bit.

"how do I look?" he asks.

sucking your teeth, you fidget with a particularly strange looking stitch.

"whipped," you answer honestly.

he barks out a big laugh and you keen.

"that's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," you chuckle. he's still laughing and now you're laughing harder, too. "I mean, really, don't wear that out of the house! it's bad!"

"no, it's not!" he insists.

groaning, you collapse on his chest, cheek pressed against his neck.

"I just wasted my day off," you complain, but he can still feel that smile on your lips, that chuckle in your throat.

he smooths his hands over your hair, humming.

"nuh-uh," he insists. "I love it. really, I do! I'm gonna wear it to work tomorrow."

"fat chance," you snort.

he teasingly pinches your sides until you're squeaking and burrowing deeper against the warm skin of his throat.

"how 'bout this," he starts, tucking your hair behind your ears and craning his neck to catch your gaze. "Mav's birthday's coming up. we could always...regift."

grinning, you hold his cheeks.

"I love the way your mind works."

[stardustndreamsofsilver]

Too Late To Go Back

Part Three

Danny x Reader (f)

Warnings: cursing

Find All Parts Here

The next couple of months were spent slowly building a friendship with Danny. It started as one or two texts a day and slowly progressed to several texts then to several texts and a short phone call and finally to texting all the time and one long phone call before bed. You kept things simple, asking about his day or how things were going with the band. Danny would always give more though. Talking about little things, like what he bought at the grocery, what outfit he decided on weaing that day, where he was planning on going and what he ate for all of his meals. It was sweet.

Although things were going well and you truly enjoyed your friendship, you knew Danny wanted more. He wanted to be together again. You could tell by the way he’d casually try to hold your hand when the two of you were out or drape his arm around your shoulders while you sat watching a movie.

One day, Danny called early in the morning and asked if you wanted to go with him to the spring opening at Cheekwood. Having never been, you agreed without hesitation. Danny picked you up about an hour later. While on the drive there, the two of you talked and sang along with your favorite songs. The two of you thoroughly enjoying the time spent together.

When you got the Cheekwood, you and Danny walk up the the admissions booth and he holds up his phone showing the attendant the two tickets he’d purchased. With a nod from the attendant, you walk into the garden. It was breathtaking. Tulips blooming as far as you could see. Pink ones, white ones, every color you could imagine.

While you were admiring all the flowers, Danny held up his phone and took your picture. Never wanting to forget how beautiful you looked amongst the blooms. Smiling down at the picture, he set it as his background and slipped his phone into his pocket.

Taking your hand, Danny walks with you over to where a jazz band is playing. The two of you stand and listen to the music. Swaying softly back and forth, you smile completely entranced by the music. Danny looks over at you and smiles. Running his hand along your arm, he takes your hand and pulls you against him. Laughing, the two of you dance in time with the song. When it ends, everyone claps.

“Hey, we’ve got a workshop to get to, come on!” Danny says, taking your hand and leading you over to the sitting area that is set up with a few long tables and stools.

Taking a seat next to Danny, you look over at him and ask, “What are we doing? What kind of workshop is this?”

“We’re going to learn how to make bouquets with fresh cut flowers. We get to keep whatever we make too!” He replies with a smile.

“Oh neat! This sounds so fun! I've always wanted to do something like this!” You say.

For the next hour, you learn the ins and outs of how to make the perfect bouquet. Yours has dahlias, cosmos, zinnias, roses, baby’s breath and other greenery. Danny’s is made up of lavender, peonies, dahlias, anemones, bishop’s flower and lady’s mantle.

You smile over at him and say, “This was so fun! Yours is stunning! If your day job doesn’t work out, you should be a florist.”

Danny laughs at that and says, “Only if you do it with me! I’d need all the help I could get.”

You and Danny spend the rest of the morning walking around the gardens and enjoying the beauty around you. Around noon, he asks if you're feeling hungry. You nod your head and say a little. With that, the two of you leave Cheekwood and head to the Bluebird Cafe. Pulling into the parking lot, Danny parks the car. You walk in and pick a table close to the stage. After ordering drinks and your food, you and Danny chat about your morning and how much fun you’d had. 

Soon, the drinks come and you take sips while enjoying the music being played by a local artist. Bobbing your head along with the music you smile and look over at Danny. “You guys should have a little surprise show here. I bet the fans would love it! Have a little scavenger hunt for clues that will lead them here and they can get in for a small fee and all the proceeds go to a local charity.”

“That’s a really good idea! I’ll have to bring it up with management and see what we can do! Maybe include the Electric Tomb to give out the clues. You know since everyone hates it, maybe that would get more people on board.” He laughs.

Enjoying the rest of lunch, you talk and joke with one another. Danny insists on paying and you let him with only a little push back. Getting back into his car, Danny asks if you’re still free to hang out or if you need to get back home. 

“I’m as free as a bird today. I’m all yours Danny boy.” You laugh.

Chuckling, he says, “Nice. I was wondering if you’d go thrifting with me? I’m moving into a new place at the end of the week and need some new furniture and stuff to put on the walls.”

“Absolutely! You know I love a good thrift sesh.” You say with a smile.

“Awesome. Let’s go shopping!” Danny says starting the car.

You find Danny a new burnt orange velvet couch and a 1960’s RCA console. Danny goes to pay and asks them to hold it for a day or two so he can have someone pick it up and take it over to his new place. While he’s doing that, you take one last look around and spot a framed Woodstock poster with a picture of Janis Joplin and Grateful Dead that you’d missed. Grabbing it, you carry it up to the register.

“Did you find something else?” Danny asks.

“Yeah, but it’s for me.” You say holding it up and showing him.

“Oh damn! How did we miss that?” He exclaims, eyes wide.

“I know, right? It’s going to go great in my living room. I’ve got the perfect spot for it.” You say as you lay it on the counter.

As you reach for your wallet, Danny quickly tells the person to add it to his bill. Looking up at him, you say, “No Danny, I’m paying for this. You’ve already spent way too much on me today.” 

“Nope.” He says, handing his card over.

“Danny!” You chastise.

“What? I like doing stuff for my favorite person. Don’t steal my joy!” He says, throwing up his hands.

Sighing and shaking your head, you poke your finger into his chest and say, “Fine, but this is it. I will pay for myself for the rest of the day.”

“Alright, alright. Whatever you say toots.” He laughs.

Going to a few more stores, you and Danny find a mid century kitchen table set and some art pieces and old band posters. With the day winding down, Danny notices you growing tired. He offers to take you home and you accept. He takes you back to your apartment and walks you up, carrying your Woodstock poster under his arm and a couple bags of clothes you'd gotten. Unlocking the door, you let the two of you in. 

“Where do you want this babe?” Danny asks.

You point over to the empty wall and he goes and sits it on the floor.

“Thank you for today Danny. I had a great time.” You say with a small smile.

“No problem.” He says, walking over to you. “I had a great time too.”

Looking up at him, you grin. “We should do this more often. I miss hanging out like this.”

Danny grins and nods his head in agreement. “I’ve missed this too.”

Closing the space between you, Danny wraps you in a hug. Swallowing thickly, you hug him back. 

“Well, you better get out of here if you want to beat traffic.” You say taking a step back.

“Yeah, I better get going. I’ll call you when I get home.” He says.

“Sounds good.” You say nodding your head and crossing your arms.

When Danny leaves, you close and lock the door behind him. Turning and leaning against the door, you heave a heavy sigh. Today had been wonderful. Amazing. You hadn’t had that much fun in a long time. But, something felt off. You loved being with your best friend, but you could tell that he saw things differently. He saw this as a step toward being together again. Which to you, didn’t feel possible.

Danny called half an hour later. Telling you that he was home safe. Something he’d picked up when you were dating. He continued talking about the day and how much he really liked being around you and being able to do stuff together. You agreed and reiterated how nice of a day it was. But, you couldn’t get over the feeling of him thinking this was something it wasn’t. 

“Danny, I think we need to talk.” You say over the phone.

“We are talking silly.” He teased.

Smirking and rolling your eyes, you continued, “I mean there’s something I want to talk to you about." Hesitating, you continue, "I know that at the beginning of all this you hoped we’d end up back together. But, I don’t want to get your hopes up. I love you, but I just don’t see us getting back together.”

“Oh–”

“I’m sorry.” You say, hating that you’re hurting him.

“Can I ask why or what I did?” He asks in a monotone voice.

“You didn’t do anything.” You sigh.

“Then why?” He whispers.

“You don’t feel like my person anymore.”

taglist: @demolitionndann, @ichoosetheroad-gvf, @gvfjakesjooty, @gretavanloverleaver, @lolipopsandgumdrops, @lightmylove-gvf, @positivegvfthings, @myfavsstuff-blog, @gretavangroupie

[toads-treasures]

For Leda and Cori (but feel free not to do both or to skip questions or anything)!

What is your Tav’s origin story? 

What is your character’s moral alignment?

How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Does your Tav consider themselves a hero, villain, victim or something else?

-wayhavenots :)

Ahhh thank you for the ask!!! I tried so hard not to let this get too long and uhhhhhh I failed 😂 I was way too excited to talk about my DIY blorbos

What is your tav’s origin story?

Staring off with my first ever Tav Leda!!

She’s actually had a lot of different origin stories 😂 before I ever had the game, and I was just obsessively theorizing I thought it would be funny to have a little pink murder muffin. So I set out to make the cutest, sparkliest, most pastel candy colored character and have that be my Dark Urge character! I did not consider the fact that I cannot be mean to pixels, and I restarted after one (1) uncontrolled murder lol.

So Leda’s backstory took a hard left and she’s been through many iterations, but the tldr version is she was born into a noble house, but was banished from it at a young age because of her uncontrolled magic and a tragic incident involving hellish rebuke She ran as far from home as she could and took any odd job offered to her, and when she inevitably had a surge of wild magic that would cause her to lose said job, she’d move on. I picked the urchin background for her in game, but this is what is in the Deep Lore of my brain lol. Someday I do want to do a dark urge run with her, but, we shall see if I am strong enough 😂

Now for my new Tav, Corisandre!

Cori was raised on the road with her family (parents and older sister Lyra, and younger sister Melody). Her mother is a cleric of Kelemvor (god of death) and travels around the sword coast preforming last rites, taking care of the undead and general Cleric of Death business. Her father is a bard and handyman. He’d often preform (sing and play the lyre) or do repair work around a tavern in exchange for lodgings on the road. Most people preferred his handiwork over his singing lol. Her family often came in contact with a traveling group of performers that seemed to follow similar routes as her and her family. Cori loved watching them. They were much more polished and professional than what she and her dad would do, as they were both self taught. She befriended several members of the troop, particularly a talented lute player, a boy named Lark. They were happy to teach her more about music and preforming, and the magic they used to enhance their talents with both. Then, when she was eighteen there was a long period of time where she didn’t see the troop at all. When her family finally ran into them again, she discovered that they’d been attacked on the road and several members, including her friend Lark, had died. Cori was devastated, and decided to join the troop, hoping to protect them on the road. She was with them up until she got kidnapped by the mindflayer ship.

What is your character’s moral alignment? Does your Tav consider themselves to be more of a hero, a villain, a victim or something else?

I’m going to combine these two questions a bit!!

Leda is chaotic neutral, but that changes to chaotic good as she gets a little bit of guidance from a certain Blade of Frontiers. She’s always admired people who would be considered “good aligned” but often felt too cowardly to become so herself. Her magic has hurt people more often than it’s helped, and so she’s spent most of her life trying to repress it, never really learned how to control it or use it for “good”. But she’s working on it now! And now that she has an actual support system (Wyll cough cough, Honeylark) being a “hero” comes much easier.

Cori is neutral good!

She’s always willing to lend someone a hand if it’s within her means to do so, and is quick to stand up for anyone vulnerable, part of the reason she joined the preforming troop was to protect them. I don’t think she’d really consider herself a hero though. In her mind she’s just a silly little bard who happens to be pretty good with stabbing things that need stabbing lol. She can’t be considered lawful good, though she was kind of raised with a similar set of principles, but she’s not quite as erratic as Leda 😂

How does your Tav get along with each party member?

Cori is so new that I’m not really sure yet!! So far, she has the highest approval with Gale, then shadowheart and Karlach. She initially was a little ruffled by Lae’zel but only because she was mean to the very scared Tiefling, Zorru, in the grove and Cori is very protective of other tieflings lol. But she’s got crazy high insight stats, so I think she’s quick to realize that pretty much all of these people are terrified. She knows Lae’zel is so far from anything even remotely familiar and she doesn’t take her brusk attitude to heart really. Overall she’s quite fond of all of them, particularly a very verbose wizard, and a fiery, kind hearted tiefling.

Led gets along very well with pretty much everyone! But she’s also a pathological people pleaser at the beginning lol, so it might have been hard to tell what was genuine connection and what was her doing whatever it took to make herself seem useful so they wouldn’t leave her behind.

I think initially Shadowheart, Astarion and Lae’zel found her naive and silly. Astarion in particular thought she’d be an easy mark for his plan of “seduction for protection” but she was also oblivious to him attempting to come on to her and he gave up pretty quick 😂 I think she feels the closest, friend wise, with shadowheart and Karlach. Lae’zel was and is slightly terrifying to her but she likes her a lot, one of her favorite things is telling Lae’zel the summary of novels (usually romance novels) she’s read while they walk, but changing them up to be much more violent and battle heavy to keep Lae’zel interested. At first she avoids Gale, she’s intimidated by his knowledge of magic and feels very insecure about her own abilities (or lack there of) but he grows to be a very good teacher! He’s very patient with her and she likes listening to him but she is my adhd queen so if there’s not something to keep her hands busy while she’s talking her eyes will glaze over.

With the later companions, Halsin Jaheira and Minsc, Leda adores them all and sees them as role models/parental figures, especially Jaheira. Though Minsc is definitely more of a fun uncle type 😂

And then last but not least, the pride of the gate Wyll Ravengard himself. Leda was smitten with him from literally the first moment she saw him. His introduction at the grove, the way he was so kind to the Tiefling children, girl was practically swooning. She’s always loved romance/adventure stories and Wyll seems like he basically stepped out of one. She’s met people before who may play the part of hero, who pretend to be a knight in shining armor. But she’s never met anyone who actually embodies those ideals like Wyll does. And the more she gets to know him, the more she admires him, and the more she worries about his selflessness turning to self destruction.

[annas-hair-donut]

For the WIP ask game: And If I Changed my Mind

I'm so glad you asked about that one! It's probably what I'm most excited to work on.

Fandom: Frozen, BATB Ships: Kristanna, Ryder/Belle, Anna/Mattias, background Elsamaren, Adam/Gaston, maybe some others Rating: M/E (this snippet is rated T)

It's a long fic (maybe 15-20 chapters or so, at least for now). And it's set in my Bandana AU (Future's So Bright, Rain Check, Here Comes the Sun). Basically, Anna has just divorced Hans and is starting over, living with her sister Elsa, her wife Mare, and their (mostly grown) kids Ryder and Olaf, and also grieving for her daughter Samantha, who passed away as a baby. KB and Anna previously hooked up right after the divorce without really knowing each other, but Anna decides she needs to be on her own for a while before she jumps into any kind of relationship. So this is the story that picks up after their hook-ups until they finally get together. Oh, also, KB hires Anna to be his office manager. It's a slow-burn friends-to-lovers fic.

Along the way, Anna will date Destin Mattias. And there's a side plot where Ryder has a huge crush (does Ryder have any other kind????) on fellow mechanic/Anna's best friend Belle. So it's a bit of a BATB crossover, too. And yes, I'm finally writing Rydelle! You might be skeptical now, but if you read my fic you will walk away a Rydelle believer.

Here's a little snippet (a little more than a snippet) if you want a taste:

Anna would have changed out of her hot pink dress before going in to work, but she got lost on her way from the graveyard, as she always did. She thought about calling KB to ask for directions, but she knew she could figure it out on her own. But once she meandered her way onto the highway - after about an hour of trying to figure out where her GPS was taking her - she spent the rest of the drive wondering why she didn’t even think of calling anyone else.

By the time she got back into town she was already an hour late for work, which meant she was going to have to call KB anyway.

She always thought he was going to be upset with her whenever she was late, but he never was. Not once. He wasn’t ever anything but nice to her.

Once she got to KB’s Auto Shop, she flipped down her visor to make sure she looked decent. It was sprinkling earlier, and she was sure her hair, which Elsa had tediously styled that morning, was nothing less than a frightful mess. And then some, she realized.

Then she saw wearing KB’s bandana tied around her wrist. She would have been mortified if he found out she used it as a security blanket. So she stuffed it into her purse, reapplied her lipstick - the tube was hot pink to match her dress, but the color was a lot less subtle - and headed into work.

Her dress kept riding up, so she pulled at the hem of the A-line skater skirt that hit mid-thigh when she got to the door, then picked at the form-fitting lycra waist, though neither helped. She meant to buy a new one for the occasion, but she was still trying to build up her savings and couldn’t justify spending the money. She didn’t think Samantha would mind that it was a little tighter now, but her dress was a little less forgiving. She didn’t expect to be wearing it to work, though.

KB was talking to a customer when she walked it, and didn’t even seem to notice her slip in, which is what she was hoping for, but then he looked up from the clipboard he was tapping his pen against and stopped talking.

The customer looked behind them, but Anna looked away and pretended not to notice.

But she pulled down her skirt again, then she smoothed her hair back even though she knew it wouldn’t help.

“Hey,” KB said, completely ignoring his customer. “How did it go?”

“It was nice,” she said with a smile she couldn’t help. “The butterflies were out.”

He smiled at her again, and she got the feeling he was trying not to look below her neck. “That’s nice. I’m glad it went well. But I’m also glad you’re back.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear again, though it didn’t stay. Then she scooted past him, and he had to back away to give her enough room to pass.

She felt his eyes follow her as she rounded the counter, and she didn’t look up until she flipped her hair from underneath the sweater that was fortunately draped around the back of her chair, and the thought KB’s head turned away.

“I’m sorry. What was I saying?” he asked the customer.

Anna looked in his direction again as she piled her hair into a bun at the top of her head, and KB looked away again.

The customer laughed and said, “Thanks, Kris. ‘Preciate you.”

KB walked back to the register, still smiling, to show Anna the new inventory he needed her to catalogue when she blurted it out, “I didn’t have time to change.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know this dress isn’t exactly appropriate for work, and it’s too tight, but I got lost and I was already late and I would have been at least another 30 minutes late if I went home to change.”

KB shrugged, “I already told you it’s not a big deal. But maybe a phone call with a heads up next time?”

Anna’s shoulders shrank and she said, “I’m sorry.”

He put his hands on his hips and squinted at her like he does when he’s stumped with a car problem, and she was sure he was wondering the same thing she was: why she couldn’t just call him?

“It’s fine, Anna. Really. No harm done.”

She didn't have an answer for him, though. “I guess it's just one of those days.”

His smile was sweet, but he was silent.

“And my hair is… Elsa actually styled it this morning and it looked so nice!”

KB’s smile widened, and his eyes crinkled. 

“She’s going to be so disappointed.”

“Probably,” KB said with a slight smile.

Anna snorted and KB laughed with her.

“If it helps, I kind of like it.” He moved some some stray hairs out of her face and tried to push it back but it fell forward again.

She piled it onto the top of her head in a messy bun and batted her eyelids in an obviously playful way. “There!”

“Looks great!” he teased and she swatted at his shoulder.

He caught her hand and held it while they stared at each other for a long moment. She knew he was feeling her ring finger to see how much the skin had flattened there. It had been several months since he’d last checked, but the evidence she’d been married before still hadn’t disappeared. And no matter how much she wanted him, she still wasn’t ready.

“Sorry, I should-”

He snapped his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. “Right, um, no, sorry, I-”

His hands weren’t nearly as greasy as they would be by the end of the day, but Anna always had tissues nearby in case she needed them. She didn’t want to give him any false hope, but she also didn’t want him to feel awkward. He had become one of her closest friends and a knot tightened in her stomach at the thought of losing him.

“Are you still coming tonight?”

“Yup!” he said quickly, and Anna thought she detected relief in his exhale. “Come on, I wouldn’t miss your daughter’s birthday dinner. Is there anything I can bring?”

Just your handsome self, she almost said.

 “Maybe you can bring some beer? Elsa and Mare don’t have good taste like us.”

“Done!” he said on his way to check on the outside bays. 

Just because they were friends now, didn’t mean she couldn’t watch his ass walk away. But he turned when he got to the door and Anna pretended she was typing something. 

She took one more glance because she couldn’t get enough of his ass in jeans - she couldn’t get enough of it without jeans, either! He stopped so she looked up and he was smiling.

So much for not leading him on!

[hikapoi]

This is from the Artists Asks List. You can just pick the ones you're interested in answering if this is too much lol.

1, 9, 12, 15, and 25

I've answered #25 over here! (= 1. Do you prefer traditional drawing, or digital?

AHHHHH this is such a good question.. I always want to say a real pencil in my hand is the way to go even after all these years doing digital art but last year I don't think I did any traditional art at all... It honestly makes me so sad that the only time I do any traditional work is during Inktober or Sketchvember.. when the months roll by I just think, "ah darnit another year goes where I only do traditional work as part of a game." Man I just think traditional is when I'm at ease and most relaxed bc I can just feel fluid if I'm drawing for fun, but with digital you can really clean things up to look really good. A part of the reason I enjoy doing the yearly holiday cards when I ACTUALLY SEND ANY is that it's a time I can do special traditional art for my friends to make them really happy. I think I'm good at digital art but am even better with traditional, but I don't think I can say that anymore if I haven't really touched a pencil in recent years. It might be the opposite now, my traditional work lacks the precision and finesse of my digital work but since I have art supplies I PAID for and HAVE TO USE I have a tendency to experiment with traditional media more. I am STILL buying loads of art supplies to this date..

9. How much time do you spend drawing on an average day?

HNGNGHGH it really depends.. Ah, average day? Hmmm when I'm on fire I might say at least 2 hours a day, whether it's to work on a quick doodle or to continue a more time-consuming piece. There are days where I might spend 4-6 hours. The craziest for me for one day might be 8 hours-- with or without breaks in between.

12. Is it okay for people to ask you about your process?

YEAH ABSOLUTELY ALWAYS it's no secret. I always did the circle/stick man base but when I really got into One Punch Man in 2012 or so when Murata-sensei was streaming, I noticed he skipped that step and went straight to defining muscles, limbs, faces, etc. I thought DANG if I could do that I could draw SO MUCH FASTER and SO MUCH MORE!! It was horrible at first and I hated a lot of my art while I was trying out this new thing but now I'd say I'm fairly decent and it does get me to do more art faster.

Anyway! My process is to start with a pose idea. The timing on this varies, but I usually thumbnail with little stick figures until something sticks. If there is one I like I might blow it up or redraw it on a larger scale. I always start with the face shape and eyes first. It helps me get a good idea on how to frame the hair. I cannot feel I am drawing the character until I get this right. I'll then detail until I color. I skip a line art step most of the time because I clean my sketches along the way ((I KNOW, RISA)). If it's a piece I'm serious about being a "best" I might seriously do a line art layer but I usually have trouble because I can never find a comfortable inking pen AND I feel line art makes my art suddenly stiff. I used to never color but I try to do it as much as I can because I have always admired my friends for their bold colors and I told myself that that's my own personal goal to have more colored work.

15. How long does an average piece take you to complete?

If it's a fairly simple/rushed drawing that is semi-refined that can take me about 2-4 hours? I can get a lot done in just 1 hour as well thanks to all those Mob Psycho 100 60 min challenges. But if I just take my time drawing something that I don't particularly hate I'd say 2 hours is a good average. For a more detailed one with backgrounds or groups or lots of detail, that could take me at least 8 hours of actually drawing. The hours spent into references/getting ideas/thinking of a background add to an illustration's turnaround time even if I am not actually moving a pen.

Thank you for your interest in me! I hope maybe I've said something interesting!

These questions are from this art meme if you want to do it too: https://hikapoi.tumblr.com/post/708522112589119488/artist-asks

[dreaming-marchling]

When Dom first goes to buy stars he thinks about bringing Brian there some time. Could a gift card to a craft store be a way to give Brian an indoor hobby (which Letty pointed out he doesn't have)? Also the confusion on Brian's face at getting a gift card to a craft store ("Leon, what am I supposed to do with this?") could be pretty funny.

Brian's new things kick does include trying and thus buying new things - like Mia's cooking class, the team's candy from the hunt and new cuisines when he's having on dinner dates with Dom.

The theme there is that these things are being done with/for the team, which is breaking Brian's usual "buying things for myself that aren't necessary is stressful and/or bad" thing. Obviously he can, he did at the bookstore for instance, but he also really hesitated there and has continued to mention how nuts he was in the bookstore so you know he hasn't entirely reconciled with it.

All of this to say that nobody has yet given him a gift card that's money already spent where he then needs to just pick out things for himself. I imagine this would be kind of overwhelming for him, especially unleashed in a store where he's a) got no real background [Brian has quietly revealed to us that he used to do reading as a light hobby pre-Dom so the bookstore wasn't as foreign as it could have been] and b) there's a hint of "I'm too old for this" like there would be in something like a craft store. The only thing he would have a pull towards buying are coloring supplies but he also had that chance at the bookstore and couldn't bring himself to even go over and look at what they had for sale.

It would be very interesting to unleash him on a craft store and see what he picked, if he would want Dom to go with or go alone or with someone else, how long it would take him to make a choice! I think it's safe to say he'd be bewildered at the very least, lol

I love the hypotheticals, thank you for asking!

[mega-mastermind]

About myself (artist)

So I know I said there'd only be one more post before the official release of Episode 1, but there's actually gonna be one more after this. I figured I'd tell you a bit about my art style/drawing choices when it comes to this wacky, silly, even goofy comic. So, I first got into drawing last year out of pure spite. You see, Vicente (the real life Vicente) decided to draw Walter White instead of something I had requested him to. This filled me with pure rage to the point where I picked up my pen and began to draw myself. And I discovered it's actually pretty fun & something I like doing. I've been practicing and improving off & on ever since. In a way, Super Vicente is sort of me trying to improve my drawing skills. If I'm gonna practice, might as well make something of it, right?

My style is very cartoony. In fact, it's actually pretty similar to Vicente's style, although it's closer to his old style rather than his current one. It's very basic, not really a lot of detail, especially in backgrounds. I think I'm really good at doing facial expressions, it's just everything else I have trouble with. But sometimes, you don't need a lot of detail. Simple cartoon line-art can go a long way. I'm still very new to drawing, though, so don't expect ultra-high quality work.

No, I do not draw hands. Fingers are way too hard to do & I can't be bothered to figure them out. So for the most part, every character in Super Vicente has circles for hands. This is canon.

Oh yeah, most of the comic is in black & white because I'm lazy and don't feel like coloring it.

Anyways that's pretty much it for all the info posts. Next post will be the cover + the plot description. Expect that very soon! Honestly, I'm excited for this. Vicente & I spent a lot of time on Episode 1 alone so I hope you people will enjoy it! In the meantime, I'm heading out for now. Stay tuned!

[fool-with-a-big-mouth]

I have imposter syndrome, and it has only gotten worse since I started posting my art online. No matter how much I improve, no matter how long I spent on a piece, it's never good enough. It's never perfect enough. I'm always trying to create the perfect piece, but I never reach it. I will always find something about it, which I hate so much that I can't bear to look at it  but that doesn't matter because the next one will be it. The perfect piece. The proof that I have an impressive skillset and deserve the attention i get. But the next piece is never perfect, and there is always something wrong and so the cycle repeats. I dissociate from my art a lot. When I have actually done a somewhat decent piece, I convince myself it's not because of my skills and talent but because I had luck or lied. I accidentally picked a good and easy reference. The pose is too simple, and the color palette just works to conceal all the flaws. It feels like I didn't do it and that I stole this from someone else because I couldn't have possibly done this myself. Look at the background or the posture. It's so awful. There's no way in hell that the same person has created these flaws, so I must have somehow cheated to make the only good parts look good. It's exhausting. I'm burned out, but I am also the sole reason for my own burnout. Positive feedback doesn't work for me. It's like they are water and I am hydrophobic. They are all lies. Even when a person ensures me 100% that they like what I do, my brain has convinced itself that they are just being polite. They are my friends, ofc they are only telling me good things. It's what they have to say because I have locked them in an awful friendship they can't break free from. They are a stranger on the internet, and this is probably just a habit of them being nice. They don't actually mean it. They are just trying to make me feel better about myself. At first, it was just a whisper in my head, but at this point, it's the only voice I can hear. I shouldn't say this out loud, I shouldn't voice my hurt and feelings about myself because that would be fishing for compliments and attention. I don't need validation. I don't need nice words promised with sincerity. I need help. I need help to get rid of my imposter syndrome

[sleepymarmot]

Episodes 1.07 – 2.03

1.07 – The Thing Lay Still

Trying to figure out why 1.07 didn’t work for me at all...

Was it a mistake to watch it at the end of a long day, did I just not have the brain power to appreciate it? But I’ve watched some of the other episodes tired too, and they woke me up instead.

Maybe this was finally the point at which knowing too many spoilers ruined the story instead of enhancing it.

I think the most of it is for the same reason I stopped watching Hannibal somewhere mid-s2 back when I was airing and never bothered to pick it back up. The central relationship just doesn’t work for me. I usually have no problem empathizing with fictional characters, but I am simply unable to see what the hell these protagonists see in their shitty love interests. It’s not even like I am unable to feel the emotion through the screen because it’s too alien for me, sometimes I do like ships where one person can’t let go of someone who has done the unforgivable, but in this case it was all empty to me. I guess for that to work I really do need to like something about the offending character, and I don’t like Lestat, don’t understand why other people like him, and don’t want to do either of these things. My feelings on him slowly morphed from “How gothic. I don’t see the appeal of this guy in particular, but I don’t need to, I’m not Louis” to “cold hatred”, and whenever I go online and see people gush about the relationship and say it was endgame in the books I am frozen with horror, dread, and the sinking feeling that I shouldn’t have gotten invested if that’s where the story is going to go.

Whatever the reason was, I spent the entire flashback sequence with zero emotions, twiddling my thumbs and waiting for the next Dubai scene.

Daniel’s monologue was very satisfying, but the crux of it doesn’t work for me as the big revelation worth of the finale. At the beginning of this very session Louis listed all the ways to kill a vampire, said that he did none of these things to Lestat, and then it’s supposed to be a surprise that he couldn’t bring himself to kill him? I could have told you that, and I’m not an award-winning journalist.

---

Okay, enough negativity, I rewatched the final scene of 1.07 and here are some things I love about it:

When Louis storms out of the room into the “garden”, it has very different, cold and harsh light. On the closeups his expression is as if he’s going to pass out, and that impression is enhanced by the harsh blue light flooding his face and making him look drained of color/blood/life

Armand slowly taking off his contacts and gloves in the background. The camera keeps him out of focus but very visible

The same harsh light that made Louis look bloodless making Armand look like a vampire. In the previous scenes even within the same episode his face was lit to look softer and younger, and here the lighting and the sharp angle of him looking at the camera downwards make his face look more angular, sharper, older.

2.01 – What Can the Damned Really Say to the Damned

The love triangle in Dubai is in all directions. At least in this moment, control over Louis’s narrative is romantic possession of him. Louis’s heart is almost as vulnerable in 2.01 as it was in 1.01, both largely because of the grief over a family member. When he starts openly weeping and passionately thanking Daniel for the second time in a single day, he seems one push away from seeing Daniel as his new savior.

Meanwhile, Armand and Daniel’s mutual provocations become flirtier and flirtier. TFW you’re such a homewrecker you’re stealing both spouses from each other simultaneously.

As for Louis and Armand — Louis is introverted and tends to mimic other people’s energy, Armand seems to be the same. The feedback loop makes the glimpse of their relationship in private look like still water. We’ve always seen Louis with the extroverted Lestat and Claudia before, never like this. I don’t think this quietness is necessarily bad, but I’m assuming the narrative wants us to think it is.

The reveal that the victim’s quality of life affects the quality of blood goes against what was established previously. Our main characters spent the entire first season feeding on the underprivileged! Because one of the things vampirism has always been a metaphor for is class exploitation! And now you’re suddenly implying that draining people who have already been drained by life doesn’t work? And/or that even the poorest, most traumatized person in New Orleans was less miserable than anyone in 1945 Europe?

2.02 – Do You Know What It Means to Be Loved by Death

I have completely lost track of the motivations of the Dubai trio.

Why is Daniel acting like this? In season 1 he was dropping tactically timed sarcasm bombs when he had the chance, clearly as a self-grounding method to not “let the story seduce him” and to reinforce his independence. Here he’s interrupting and talking over Louis and Armand to say nothing in particular.

Daniel’s distressed face was very disturbing; we haven’t seen him like this before. If I remember correctly, he didn’t react to Louis’s “parlor trick” like that the last time; what exactly is going on here? I’m assuming this is Armand and Louis’s plan to unearth his 1973 self in action. The editing suggests that Louis intentionally digs in his head in the same way Armand did in 1973, which brings back his memories and mental state in that moment. The same scene also suggests that the memories Louis is looking at are altered and Daniel’s ex in them was actually Armand, which would explain why Armand has been looking at Daniel Like That, but also raise the question why he would let Louis get so close to this dangerous piece of buried memory.

After the last episode I wrote about the idea that the stress of the war ruined the quality of blood. In this episode, the theatre vampires publicly torture their victim with stress and humiliation before feeding. Is that evil for evil’s sake, or does the stress make the blood sweeter? The latter would contradict the idea from the previous episode, wouldn’t it?

2.03 – No Pain

The story doesn’t add up. Louis at this point should still remember that he refused to kill Lestat for real — Claudia refers to it in Romania and he doesn’t seem surprised. He’s traumatized to the point of hallucinations, alright, I guess slitting your lover’s throat would do that even if you fail to finish the job. But why would he tell Armand he killed Lestat? Why would he confess to a crime he hasn’t actually committed? Trying to get himself punished out of guilt? But he has promised Claudia to stay alive for her, and the confession implicates her too. Why not just say what he knows to be true?

The writers really fucking need to decide whether vampire telepathy is direct messaging or proximity groupchat.

Claudia revealing her trauma about being trapped and told repeatedly by her tormentor that he loves her is crazy. She went back home soon after that and immediately was trapped there too, by the person who used to at least seem to love her. And at the same time, the description also applies to Louis’s entire arc so far — he’s trapped with Lestat, who abused him in life and haunts him in “death”, and who keeps describing their relationship as love. (And in present day, Daniel insists on calling Lestat his true love too, which I’m more and more afraid is not helping.)

Side note: the scenes in s2 are edited together with a brief black screen in between and it’s driving me crazy. New editor? Or are these pauses for ad insertion and the previous uploader was better at removing them? Either way, hate it. Where are the beautiful dissolves? I don’t remember a single one in season 2.

Next: 2.04 →

Interview with the Vampire notes, episodes 1.07–2.08

Here are the notes I took after watching every episode of IWTV, starting with the first season finale.

This post is just the intro; see the reblogs for the full text. I’m not sure that it’s possible to fit 20k words into one post, and even if it is, such a long post would be painful to navigate. More importantly, this way the contents of the posts shouldn’t flood the site-wide search results for pretty much every possible character and ship name I mention here. There is some negativity in these notes; if that bothers you, please scroll past.

I tried to simulate a fandom experience for myself, taking a break after each episode, checking out what other people said about it, and writing down my reactions mostly to the episode itself but sometimes to the things I’ve seen posted about it.

For context, I watched the first two episodes of season 1 back when they came out, loved them, but failed to keep up with the weekly releases and decided to catch up later. When season 2 aired, I checked out the trending posts every weekend, and after it was completed, I finally restarted the show from the beginning. Oh, and I had seen the movie half a lifetime ago as a teenager. This means that I was familiar with the premise and some of the main characters, was aware of the impending tragedy (one of the few things I remembered from the movie, and one of the reasons I was afraid to catch up and break my heart), had no idea about the events of the late season 1 or what the fandom was doing during the hiatus, but knew pretty much every major spoiler from season 2.

I didn’t take notes during season 1, because I was familiar with the opening episodes and satisfied by the following ones (I thought the first four episodes were flawless television). After the first season finale finally had things that bothered me enough to write about it, I started taking notes. Initially I just wrote down the things that I disliked or had questions about, but with each episode I got into the habit more, and had more fandom reactions to sift through and prompt further thoughts. By the end of the season, I was having long-winded arguments with myself. Since the point was to record my own evolving opinions, I didn’t go back and amend the previous entries, except for one or two marked paragraphs; all editing for that part was for clarity only. I wrote all of that in the notes app on my phone, for the first time in my life. The exception to the above is the final section with my opinions about the finale and the entire season: I kept periodically adding to my original phone notes during the almost two months between watching the episode and publishing this post. That’s why it took me so long: completionism finally took over and made me attempt to write down every thought about the show I had and attach it here, then proofread the resulting wall of text more times than it is healthy.

That’s enough for an intro. Direct links to each reblog:

1.07 – 2.03 / 2.04 / 2.05 / 2.06 / 2.07 / 2.08 / season 2

[kuiinncedes]

ignore me changing my icon 5896347 times lskhgdf

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[hazardsoflove]

disclaimers abt my st + dnd chatacter sheets sets below the cut because it’s A Lot

it’s MY own opinion. i am not interested in the tags if you think a character should be a different class or subclass. ESPECIALLY WHEN I MAKE THE WILL + CLERIC SET. i’ll block if i see this in the tags/comments bc i worked hard on this and i don’t want to see people being an asshole in the tags

i also don’t want to hear it if you think they should be a different race/background/alignment etc. make ur own post if you disagree

i’m using 5e rules/classes/races/etc so no one get on my ass about anything. it’s not timeperiod accurate because it’s a tumblr gifset

i actually rolled stats and then based the build on the ST CHARACTER not on how to correctly/logically build a character of that class which is why some of the builds will look weird/impractical based on the class (esp when i get to robins bc she’s a rogue but not dexterous)

the proficient skills chosen also reflect the st character BUT i’m picking from the allowed skills per class + whatever skills the bg grants. i’m trying to be at least semi accurate to character creation

i also did not add the proficiency bonus on the skill list bc i did not feel like it - a skill is marked proficient if the bubble next to it is colored in

i do include the stat bonuses/skill proficiencies that come with racial traits

i’m not overthinking this more than i have to. i’m not taking into account any of the ability score increases/access to feats for any of the characters. the stats they have is what i rolled + the racial bonus nothing more

i rolled hp myself. it literally was up to chance the roll of the dice and the con modifier i didn’t make anyone have a high or low hp for any specific reason. same goes for armor class i’m basing it off the armor that the class gets in their starting equipment and dex mod it’s nothing special

each set highlights just one class feature and one subclass feature bc if i did all of them it would get way too insane

if a class has a fighting style i picked the one i thought best suits the character for an additional gif

i did not pick feats for anyone bc i would’ve spent wayyyyy too long doing that

the backgrounds i gave everyone are only from the phb and are VERY loose in relation to the chatacter bc some characters i was struggling to pick a bg that fit their character best. some fit rly well some don’t fit that well get over it it’s FINE

this is likely gonna take me a long fucking time sjskshkshsjs

i’ve been playing dnd for 6+ years i know what i’m talking abt

that all being said i do hope u guys enjoy them even if u don’t know a single thing abt dnd i had so much fun making the first set and i’m v excited to make the rest <3

to find all the sets click here!