#i think i'm doing fine does it sound like it :)

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 13]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the scarf around your neck. It was another day of going to Hongjoong's place to do your gardening duties. Also, it was the first time seeing him after you cried in his arms at his mother's grave.

"Gosh, can you be any more embarrassing?" You asked your reflection with a click of your tongue. With a soft sigh, you went to gather your stuff.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You ran to open the door, thinking it was the chauffeur that was usually sent to pick you.

"Oh! Hongjoong! I was not expecting you." You blinked as he stood at your door.

"I was in the area for a meeting and thought I could come pick you instead. I hope you don't mind, the chauffeur told me what floor you live on." Hongjoong smiled, tucking his phone back into his coat.

"Not at all. I'm about done, please come in. Don't mind the mess." You said, letting him step in.

"Thanks. Take your time." He bowed his head and entered behind you, removing his shoes in the entrance way.

"I have to bring these down, it shouldn't be too heavy." You gestured before running back into your bedroom to get your socks and handphone. Hongjoong looked around the place, contrary to what you said, there was no mess at all. It was a cozy, little apartment, simple but neat.

"That should be everything... Would you like a drink? Sorry I didn't offer you one when you came in." You chuckled, putting your tools together into a tote bag.

"No worries, I'm good. I had a coffee on the way here." He smiled from his seat on your couch.

"We can go now." You said to him.

"Sure, let me help." He took one of the bags that had fertiliser in it, leaving you to carry the light stuff. Your heart warmed at the sight of the Porsche convertible, he must have brought it for you.

"If the things can't fit in the boot, I'll have them on my lap." You told him as he loaded the stuff in.

"We should be fine. It'll be uncomfortable to have things on your lap." Hongjoong said as he arranged the stuff to make space.

"There." He placed the last bag in and closed the boot. After opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat, he closed the door and ran over to the driver's side.

Before moving out of the parking space, Hongjoong put the hood down then started to drive. It wasn't as awkward anymore but you did still feel embarrassed after what happened last time. He saw you cry and you cried all over his probably expensive suit.

"Is it too warm? Shall I put the hood back up?" Hongjoong asked, having noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face.

"No, not at all. You don't have to put the hood back up. I'm enjoying it, don't worry." You shook your head, continuing to look out instead of look in Hongjoong's direction.

"Welcome back, sir."

The intercom voice sounded as Hongjoong pulled up to the gates of the estate before they opened the let you in.

"Although it's such a long walk, the greenery along the driveway makes it such a nice sight." You commented. Hongjoong let out a hum of agreement.

The others must heard of Hongjoong's arrival at the gate because you saw a butler and two maids waiting there for your arrival.

"There are stuff in the back, take it and help her bring it to the back garden." Hongjoong said, coming out of the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir. Right away." They stepped forward to retrieve your items from the boot as Hongjoong opened the door for you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You were still not used to this, you've always done everything yourself without any butlers or maids.

"Right this way, ma'am." One of the maids bowed, leading you into the house. Hongjoong re-entered the car and drove off, presumably to park his car.

"(y/n)! You're here." Mingi grinned.

"Hi, Mingi." You bowed your head, still finding yourself acting formal with the others.

"Have you eaten?" He asked with a tilt of his head, munching on the slice of toast in his hand. You mentally chuckled, imagining all the crumbs he must be dropping onto the ground.

"I have. Thank you." You smiled.

"Good. If you get hungry, ask the chef to make you something, alright? Don't go hungry." He winked and went upstairs.

"Miss, shall we leave the things here?" The butler asked as you stepped out into the backyard.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you so much for your help." You bowed repeatedly to them. They smiled and bowed back to you before taking their leave. The first thing you did was take your notepad out to check your to-do list for today.

"Good morning, (y/n)." You turned to see Seonghwa standing there, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and wide pants, making him look casual but elegant.

"Good morning, Seonghwa. How has your morning been?" You asked with a smile.

"Busy as usual. Have you seen Hongjoong? I heard he went to pick you up after his meeting." He enquired.

"Yeah, he did. He dropped me off out front and I assumed that he was just going to park the car but I guess not?" You giggled as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Another thing you learnt was that while Hongjoong kept everyone else in check, Seonghwa kept Hongjoong in check.

"Never mind him then. How has the garden been coming along?" He moved closer to look.

"Hopefully making progress. I managed to move the plants to where they need to be, in the proper soils without having to compete for nutrients. Today, it's laying fertiliser and all that." You explained.

"The plants are in good hands then." He chuckled and you nodded your head. Seonghwa's phone ringing pulled him away, the both of you bowed your heads to each other as he entered the house to answer the call. You let out a sigh of relief, still feeling slightly intimidated by him and his energy.

"Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?"

"Ah!" You yelped, jumping back and clutching onto your heart, as you came face to face with Jongho. He smiled cheekily at you before straightening up.

"You scared me, Jongho." You let out a sigh as you picked up the trowel that you dropped.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating his question.

"He's a little intimidating... His aura and everything. Like a critique that you want to try and impress...? I don't even know if that makes any sense." You tried your best to explain it to him.

"I get it, Seonghwa hyung has that effect on people." Jongho nodded.

"But you know, we're not that scary. We may seem like we're scary people but we're not." He added.

"I know, I'm slowly learning that." You giggled as you used the trowel to loosen up the packed soil around the plant roots. Jongho watched you take the fertiliser and add it to the soil, using your hands to manually pack it in so it wouldn't be too tight.

Jongho stood there, watching you. He has never met a girl that was willing to get down and have her hands in the dirt. It still amused and amazed him to watch you work.

"Is there anything else you need, Jongho?" You asked, realising he was looming over quietly.

"Nope. Just watching you work, it's rather fascinating and I'm learning something new when I do." He shrugged.

"It's just taking care of the plants. It is concerning that your previous gardeners never did these. But it's not surprising, considering all the mistakes I found." You mumbled the last part.

"You're funny, (y/n)."

"I just don't like that the plants suffer at the hands of someone who is literally paid to take care of them." You sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, that guy is gone and we have you now." He smiled.

Although, when Jongho said 'gone', you assumed it meant that the previous gardener was fired. You didn't know that Jongho meant that the guy was no longer alive.

"Ah, Jongho ah. Stop disturbing her and let her work. You should be doing your own work too!" Seonghwa yelled from the glass doors, presumably having finished his phone call. Jongho scoffed, offended that Seonghwa would suggest he was disturbing you. You giggled at their banter, they were really close.

"Well, I'll see you later, (y/n)." Jongho did conceed. You waved as he entered the house to go back to work.

"Alright, what's next?" You stood up, dusting your hands. You went to retrieve the other bag of fertiliser to move to another garden patch. These fertilisers were all personally mixed together by you.

"Grow well." You wished the plant, hoping your custom mix of fertilisers would provide the plants with what they needed.

"Maybe one day, there'll be a compost area here for all the waste." You thought out loud.

"We should, there's enough space." You turned to see Hongjoong standing there with a small smile on his face. He had gotten rid of his jacket and was in a shirt and pants.

"Seonghwa came to look for you earlier. Playing hooky?" You teased.

"Just because I wasn't in my office, he thinks I was out skipping work." Hongjoong rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch." Hongjoong said. You straightened up, digging for your phone to check the time. Indeed, it was already a little after noon, you didn't think you spent such a long time doing this.

"Sure, I lost track of time. Didn't know I spent so much time doing just this." You gestured. Hongjoong waited for you before walking back to the house.

"I'll go wash my hands and freshen up." You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to wash your hands and face.

"Ah, (y/n)!" Yunho ran to into you as you were exiting the bathroom. You smiled and waved at him.

"Are all of you working from home today? I seem to be running into most of you and it's only lunch time." You chuckled. Yunho laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I never know where my brothers are." He admitted.

"I guess you all have different schedules that it'll be hard to keep track. Poor Seonghwa." You giggled.

"Nah, I bet hyung secretly likes to nag us. Him and Hongjoong hyung." Yunho joked, the both of you snickering. Hongjoong watched you and Yunho laugh as you headed over.

When did you two get so close?

"Today is a warm day, you should take more breaks in the shade and make sure you drink a lot of water." Yunho smiled kindly. You nodded and bowed your head. Of course, Yunho noticed that Hongjoong had been looking at your interaction the entire time. But he wanted to rile the captain up more.

"This way." Hongjoong said to you. You stepped into the dining room, it was your first time here since you started working in the estate. Or rather, this was the first meal you've had with them.

Usually, you sit in the living room or garden gazebo to eat. Honestly, it was really intimidating.

"Sit wherever you feel comfortable." Hongjoong gestured.

"Really? Looks like there are assigned seats..." You mumbled to yourself. But Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your back to guide you forward, the seat to the right of the head.

"I sit here, you can sit with me." Hongjoong said. The seat felt like it would be the seat that's occupied for sure.

"Come, (y/n). That's Seonghwa hyung's seat." Jongho entered the dining room, pulling you along.

"You lied!" You pointed accusingly at Hongjoong, who blinked.

"Hwa doesn't care, the others are just trying to make him scarier than he actually is." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. But you were not taking the chance, you moved to sit where ever Jongho and Yunho told you to, which was next to Jongho, opposite Yunho.

"Yeosang hyung sits here but he's out for a meeting so you're good." Jongho said as the butler pulled the chair out for you to sit. You quickly bowed to him and sat down.

"Who's scarier than he actually is?" On cue, Seonghwa walked in, typing away on his phone.

"It's nothing." Hongjoong sighed.

"It's only noon and you're already sighing." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend before taking his seat, which was the exact seat Hongjoong had offered you earlier.

"See? Told you." Jongho leaned over to whisper to you and you hummed with a soft giggle.

"Just get lunch." Hongjoong said to the butler, rubbing his forehead.

"Nice to see you here, (y/n)." Seonghwa finally noticed you and smiled at you. You returned the smile and nodded your head then the trays of food came in.

"Lunch is served." The maids and butlers said as they placed trays in front of you. Your eyes widened, this was how you imagined royalty was served their meals. The food was good, regular fare, but plated nicely and arranged on an individual tray. You have never been served like this before.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asked.

"No, not at all." You forced a smile and picked up your chopsticks. Just then, Mingi came into the dining room, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Mingi. That's rude." Seonghwa scolded. Mingi rubbed his eyes, a clear sign that he had just woken up.

"Oh, (y/n). You're having lunch here today." Mingi acknowledged as he took his seat beside Yunho. You nodded and swallowed your food.

"Did you just nap since breakfast?" Yunho asked his best friend.

"Dude, I told you I didn't sleep last night so I have sleep to catch up on. I keep having issues sleeping." Mingi said, running his fingers through his messy hair as the butler put his tray down.

"You're too used to doing night stuff, that's why your body clock is having issues adjusting." Hongjoong pointed out.

"I should just be on night shift, I'm only doing Yeosang's work because he's busy taking over San's- Mmph!" Mingi's sentence was cut off as he crumpled over, wincing in pain. He turned his head to shoot Yunho a glare.

"Are you okay, Mingi?" You asked worriedly. Mingi met Yunho's eyes, who shifted in your direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hit my toe against the chair leg." Mingi lied as he began to eat. You didn't notice the sigh of relief Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out.

"If that's not enough food for you, you can always ask for seconds, alright? They always make extras for us." Jongho told you.

"This is more than enough for me. I might not even be able to finish this." You chuckled.

"Is the food to your liking?" Hongjoong asked.

"It's very good. Thank you." You smiled as continued to eat. If the food wasn't to your liking, Hongjoong would have asked the cook to make you something entirely differently.

"Seconds." Seonghwa raised his hand and Yunho did the same, the maid coming forward to get their plates for more food.

"Oh gosh, I'm so full. And I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the meal." You stood up and bowed to the boys at the table, hightailing it out of there before anyone could say anything else. The 5 just sat there, blinking, stunned before turning to their captain at the head of the table.

"(y/n), hold on. Is something wrong?" Hongjoong came out from the dining room right before you could go out the glass doors. You paused in your tracks and turned around.

"No, Hongjoong. Everything is fine." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Was it that awkward and uncomfortable?" He tilted his head. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's not any of you... It's just... I'm supposed to be a worker too... Feels inappropriate to be sitting in that fancy dining, getting served like that." You winced.

"Oh, (y/n). There's no need for you to worry about that. You're not a worker-worker... You're my friend, it's different." He chuckled.

"I know, it just takes a while to get used to. I'm not familiar with any of this but don't worry!" You rubbed your arm.

"(y/n), if you're uncomfortable, just tell me. I know it can all be very intimidating. Don't feel forced to do anything." He smiled. The both of you walked out to the back garden together.

"No, I don't feel forced at all. And it's not just that..." You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how to find the words to tell him. Maybe you should just leave it. Telling Hongjoong your feelings might just make things more awkward between the two of you.

"Are you worried about what happened when we went to see my mum?" He asked in a soft voice.

"How... How did you..." Your eyes widened.

"I figured. (y/n), you know I don't care about stuff like that right? I'm not bothered and it doesn't change anything." Hongjoong smirked. You nodded slowly.

"Thanks." You murmured.

"Now come. I think it's finally time for me to give you a proper tour of the place." Hongjoong clapped his hands.

"Don't you have to work? Don't any of you have to work?" You threw your head back with a groan. Hongjoong just laughed and gestured for you to go back into the house for the tour.

"Hang on." You paused and he nodded.

"Take your time." He watched you fiddle with one of the bags you had brought and retrieved what looked like a small white linen bag.

"Mingi! Luckily you're still here. I just remembered that I had this in my bag of gardening stuff. Here you go." You handed the taller the small white bag just as he was leaving the dining room. Both him and Hongjoong looked confused but Mingi lifted the white bag to take a sniff of it.

"It smells good. What is it?" He blinked.

"Dried lavender. I use it as a natural insect repellent for plants but it's very good to help sleep too. Since you said you have trouble sleeping, you can put this by your pillow." You explained.

"Oh, thank you, (y/n). I'll definitely put this by my pillow." Mingi smiled, continuing to sniff the bag.

"I hope it helps." You smiled and he nodded before heading upstairs. You were unaware of the now slightly sulky Hongjoong behind you.

"You didn't have to do that, you know? He's just childishly whining about it." Hongjoong commented. Your eyebrows raised slightly at his words, was Hongjoong jealous?

"I know but I wanted to help since I already have the dried lavender. So I thought why not? It's not 100% effective but it may help just a little so no harm." You shrugged as you followed him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

"Honestly in our household, almost everyone has trouble sleeping. Not sure if we're just constantly thinking about work or something." He pointed out.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't have anymore on hand now but I'll keep that in mind and bring more the next time I come." You giggled.

~

Series masterlist

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

hey so can I have a scenario with Kurt wagner having a crush and he’s kind of hanging with the group, and the topic of “your type” comes up cuz crush just got asked out by the group very hot bad boy hero and crush is just like “Oh I don’t find bad boys or tough guys attractive at all. I like the opposite”. They like men who are cozy basically? (Kurt is cozy to be around once you know him).

~You Know You're Just My Type~

Pairing: Nightcrawler x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: none

Genre: fluff

Summary: A conversation about your type leads to some discoveries you were not prepared to make today- carpe diem... you guess

***

"I've got a question for you y/n." Jack announces as he walks back into the room that you're all hanging out in.

"Shoot." You say dismissively. Jack's cool and all but nothing good ever comes out of his mouth when he begins like that. Plus all did was go get a soda, what could he possibly have discovered he needed to ask in that 5 minutes?

"When are you going to let me take you on a date?" He asks. Across the room, Kurt hold his breath at the question. Jack had a habit of flirting with you, but he'd never asked you on a real date before now. Or at least not that he knew of. But Jack is attractive, Kurt's never seen anyone say no to the guy before and he's not convinced you will either.

"Excuse me?" You blink at him and then burst out laughing. "That's the funniest thing you've ever said if I'm honest." You shake your head and Kurt feels beyond relieved as he sighs.

"Give it a rest man you're barking up the wrongest of trees." Logan scoffs.

"And how would you know?" Jack looks at Logan.

"Because he's got a brain." You say.

"They're practically attached at the hip dude, if any person here would know what's what with her dating preferences it'd probably be Logan." Jean says.

"Blasphemy!" You scoff.

"Defamation!" Logan chimes.

"Character Assassination!" You add.

"You're literally leaning against each other as if you can't sit up on your own right now be serious." Scott scoffs.

"Wait a second, that's a good point- are you two dating?" Jack asks.

You and Logan share a look.

"Gross." You both say.

"Why would you ask that?" You scoff.

"We just established the two of you are basically one person." Jack says.

"Yeah- platonically." You say.

"Have you never been friends with a girl dude?" Logan asks.

"I mean yeah, I'm friends with Jean, and Storm, and y/n- we're just not as close as you and y/n seem to-"

"Well hang on you just asked y/n on a date, so that automatically makes things a little different." Logan cuts Jack off.

"You're telling me you wouldn't date y/n?"

"I'm not answering that. You're being weird." Logan says, shaking his head.

"Yeah and don't talk about me like I'm not right here." You say.

"Fine, why won't you go on a date with me?" Jack asks.

"You are not my type darling."

"Nonsense." He rolls his eyes.

"So what is your type?" Jean asks.

"More importantly, how is it not me?" Jack asks.

"Do we have to do this?" You sigh.

"I think we should, I wanna know." Jack smirks.

"You're rowdy and obnoxious and kind of a dick sometimes and surprise there's only room for me to be close to one guy who's kind of a dick- Logan's already taken the spot." You shrug.

"So if you stop being friends with Logan-"

"Hey, tread carefully asshole." Logan points at him.

"Yeah that sounds like the start of a threat." You say.

"Don't team up against me." Jack shakes his head.

"Fine so we know they're not your types but you still haven't answered what is." Jean presses.

"Does it matter?" You scoff.

"Why are you being so secretive about it?" Storm asks.

"I just don't think it changes anything for most of you." You say.

"But for some of us?" Scott asks.

"Maybe Jack here." You say.

"Just Jack?" Logan smirks.

"Go die." You side eye him.

"Just answer their question." Logan chuckles. You sigh heavily.

"I like someone kind, gentle, I guess more on the soft spoken side? Not a pushover but not abrasive. I want someone calm, none of the adrenaline junkie shit."

"Can you guess who she's thinking of?" Logan smirks. His eyes flit very briefly to the subject of his oh so subtle insinuation.

"Shut up. You piece of shit." You shove him slightly, but you are still leaning on him so not with enough force to knock him down. You hope no one was able to pick up on what he was trying to hint at to the rest of the room. Although with Kurt being more quiet than usual you can't help but wonder if he knows.

"Wait, are you thinking of someone particular?" Scott asks.

"No." You say firmly.

"Logan?" Jean presses.

"She says no." He shrugs.

"You are such a dick. You know they're not gonna let this go! I will have no peace so long as they think I was describing someone in particular." You groan.

"Well-"

"Shhhhh! You're the worst. I'm never telling you anything of importance ever again." You smack Logan's chest.

"So there is someone specific?" Storm asks.

"That why you won't date me? Because you have a crush on someone else?" Jack asks.

"I! Did not say I have a crush on someone else." You say.

"No but your second head basically did." Jean says.

"Okay, just so we're clear, I won't date you because you're you. Whether or not I have a crush on someone else is irrelevant to that decision." You tell Jack.

"Ouch." Jack grabs his chest as if you've wounded him.

"You'll be fine, walk it off." You roll your eyes.

"Come on- you can trust us. You know that." Jean says.

"That is so not the problem here. I didn't want to talk about any of this in the first place. Can we drop this? Now?"

"Okay when y/n wants us to know anything about that she will tell us herself guys." Scott says.

"Thank you Scott." You say. "I'm going to get a drink. Anyone want anything?" You ask standing up. You need a break from this nonsense.

"I just came back from the kitchen, I could've got you something." Jack says.

"I didn't want anything then."

"I'll take a beer." Logan says.

"Great- be back." You say, leaving the room. You walk down to the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge for Logan and a bottle of water for yourself.

"Do you- actually have a crush on someone?" Kurt's voice surprises you as you shut the fridge door.

"Fucking Christ!" You shout as you clutch your chest.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." He blinks in surprise.

"We need to get you a bell, you're too quiet when you walk." You say waiting for your heart rate to slow.

"I'm sorry. Logan asked me to refill on snacks." Kurt says

"It's fine dude, what'd you ask me?"

"Just- if Logan was telling the truth about you having a crush on someone or just taunting you like he does?" Kurt asks. Your knee-jerk reaction is to lie, tell him Logan was just being a dick and there's no one, but how bad could it be if he knew- I mean he's asking after all.

"Uh- well he was definitely trying to tease me but he wasn't lying about it I- was describing a specific person, yes."

"Someone we know- I assume?" Kurt asks hesitantly. He's not even sure he wants to know what the answer is.

"Correct." You nod. This conversation feels so awkward. You wish he would just ask who it is if that's what he wants to know.

"And you... want to keep it a secret, who it is?"

"I want the person to know before everyone else does." You say. Quit beating around the bush and tell him already my GOD

"I don't want to pry." Kurt says.

"Kurt the person I'm talking about is you." You blurt out before you can convince yourself not to. Again.

"What?" His eyes snap up to meet yours.

"I was talking about you."

"Oh." He whispers.

"It's not a big deal and I'm only telling you because Logan's been giving me grief for the past couple of months and after what just happened I'm starting to think he'll tell you before I do so- I wanted to get it out there. While we're on the subject or whatever."

"You- you like me?" Kurt asks, astonishment laced through his quiet words.

"Don't make me regret telling you."

"I- I had no idea."

"Yeah I'm pretty good at that."

"No I mean- I didn't even know you paid attention to me."

"Of course I do."

"I like you too."

"You do?"

"More than anything. When Jack asked you out earlier I thought for sure you'd say yes and- I really hated the idea."

"I hate the idea of saying yes to Jack too." You quip. Kurt chuckles and you're glad that at least some of the tension has been cut by the joke.

"So- what happens now?"

"Now we go back in there and pretend this didn't happen because- I want us to figure things out before we tell everyone else." You say. 

"Okay, but what does figuring things out look like?" Kurt asks.

"A date. How's Friday?"

"I can do Friday." He nods.

"Okay, good, I'll meet you in the foyer at 8?"

"Where are we going?"

"Wherever the night takes us." You shrug.

"How do I dress for that?"

"Something you'll be comfortable in."

"Okay. Friday. 8pm. Now we go back in there and be normal?"

"Yep. Until at least Friday at 9."

"What happens after 9?"

"Depends on how the date's going."

"Cool- you should head back first you've been gone longer." Kurt suggests.

"Good idea. See you in a few." You say leaving the kitchen. You're a little confused on how that all just happened but you're pretty sure you have to thank Logan for that? You're not totally sure why yet, but later, when you're alone with your thoughts and able to dissect this whole evening properly, you'll hopefully understand what the hell just took place.

***

[beef-brisket]

Adam: I'm thinking of redecorating my room.

Lucifer laughed: Oh yeah?

Adam: Fuck yeah. I'm thinking of making... a cottagecore vibe or something.

Lucifer couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he was thankful that this was being recorded.

Lucifer: You?! Cottagecore?! Adam. Come on.

Adam glared: The fucks wrong with cottagecore?

Lucifer: Nothing! Just... you're the opposite of cottagecore.

Adam: So... apartmentcore?

Lucifer laughed: Worse- like... drugdencore.

Adam: Drug den?! Motherfucker- I've never touched a drug!

Lucifer: You did weed with Angel!

Adam: Oh please, everyone knows weed isn't a drug and more of a natural calming agent.

Lucifer: Good god- father give me strength.

Adam: Fine, fuck cottagecore. What about Boho?

Lucifer: Boohoo? That'll suit you when you're depressed.

Adam: asshole- it's boho. And I'm always depressed.

Lucifer quickly hellgoogles what boho is, amd couldn't help but laugh.

Lucifer: A-Adam! The furniture looks so flimsy. It'll snap as soon as you sit or do anything with it!

Adam: The fuck does that mean?! You saying I'm fat, or something?!

Lucifer: I'm saying you're nearly 11 feet tall, and your body matches your height.

Adam: ...Okay, fine.

Lucifer: Hm. What about art deco?

Adam: Pft. Ew.

Lucifer: Minimalist?

Adam: If I wanted to kill myself, I'll go find that fucktard maid, not subject myself to a minimalist room.

Lucifer: ...You can just say "no", Adam.

Adam: No. Asshole.

Lucifer laughed: Shabby chic? That sounds like you!

Adam: Give that here, asshole! You're not taking this seriously, at all!

Lucifer laughed some more as Adam grabbed the laptop and was looking at whatever webpage Lucifer was on.

Adam: H-Holy shit...

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Dude, look at maximalist!

Lucifer Lucifer moved over and sat next to Adam: Ad, you'd get a headache.

Adam: I mean... if I did it all bright colours and shit, bit it'll be my style, you know?

Lucifer: I guess... alright, I'll get a headache then.

The Hotel Yard

Adam: So, Lucifer hadn't heard this yet but there is an AI version of our show already.

Lucifer: Shit, okay.

AI Lucifer: Hello everyone I'm with my co-host Adam. And might I say you look like you've escaped from a mental institution.

Adam: So already you start off with insulting me

Lucifer: Yeah but we take turns

Adam: Giving blows to each other

Lucifer: Yeah we take turns blowing each other.

Adam: HAHAHA!!

AI Adam: That's not nice Lu

AI Lucifer: No, but you want to know something else? We're gay for each other.

Lucifer: What!? Hahaha!

Adam: Fucking Jesus hahaha!

I love these goobers so much 😂

AI Adam: We love recording this podcast. But our fathers hate us.

Lucifer and Adam nearly die if laughing.

Lucifer: W-What the fuck?!

Adam: It's not fucking wrong, dude!

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[writeriguess]

Hi hun! I'm glad you're feeling better 😙

I see that you write for mha, so I'm hoping you write for Kirishima? He needs more love.

So he's a shy boi who keeps trying to ask out his crush but at the last moment, veers away before he actually can. And reader thinks it's absolutely adorable and keeps feigning innocence to give him time, not wanting him to feel "unmanly" about it 😆 but maybe she ends up confessing herself making him a blushy mess? Maybe add a kiss in there?🙏

author's note: I'm glad to be back too <3 Thank you.

Red as a Ripe Tomato

The lunchroom buzzed with the lively chatter of students. Laughter spilled from nearby tables, and the clatter of trays and utensils added to the soundtrack of a typical UA lunch hour. But for Eijiro Kirishima, none of that existed. Not the conversations, not the noise—none of it. All he could focus on was the way you looked across the table, the sunlight streaming through the windows catching in your hair and making you glow like something out of a daydream.

You were picking at your food, completely at ease, while Kirishima was internally waging a full-scale war with himself.

Come on, man. Just say it. You’ve got this! You’re a manly guy—you can handle asking one question. It’s not like they’re gonna laugh at you or anything.

He opened his mouth, his lips forming the start of something—a “hey” or maybe a “so.” But the sound caught in his throat, and instead, he let out a choked cough. Smooth. Real smooth.

You glanced up, your brows furrowing slightly. “Kirishima, you okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Totally fine!” he replied, voice a little too loud as he waved his hand dismissively. “Just, uh… wrong pipe, y’know?”

“Mm.” You nodded slowly, though the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrayed your amusement.

He could feel the tips of his ears burning as he focused on his tray, stabbing his chopsticks into a piece of karaage that didn’t deserve such violence. The food wasn’t the problem—it was the fact that you kept looking at him with that soft, sweet smile. The one that made him feel like his ribcage was too small for his heart and like he was about to burst out of his own skin.

“You sure? You’ve barely eaten anything.” Your voice pulled him from his spiral, gentle but laced with concern.

“I’m good! Seriously!” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… thinking about something.”

“Something important?”

“Y-yeah. Really important.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darting up to meet yours before flicking back down. “Like, super important.”

You tilted your head, resting your chin in your hand as you regarded him. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, Kirishima. What is it?”

He froze, his mind going blank. This was it. This was his chance. He could just say it—ask you to hang out, maybe grab coffee or go to that new ramen place downtown. His palms were sweating, and he could feel the weight of your gaze, patient and curious but not demanding.

“I was wondering if you—” He paused, suddenly hyperaware of the way his heartbeat thundered in his chest. What if you said no? What if you didn’t feel the same? Would you think he was lame or—

“Yeah?” you prompted, leaning in slightly, your eyes sparkling with interest.

“—if you think Mr. Aizawa is gonna give us a pop quiz tomorrow?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he instantly wanted to slap himself. A pop quiz? Really? That’s the best you’ve got?

“Oh,” you said, blinking in surprise. For a moment, it looked like you were about to laugh, but you held it in. “I mean, probably not. He doesn’t usually do pop quizzes, does he?”

“Right, right! Of course. I was just… y’know… checking.”

You let out a soft laugh then, shaking your head. “Kirishima, you’re too funny.”

He chuckled weakly, feeling like a complete idiot. You thought he was funny—not smooth, not confident. Just funny. And he wasn’t even trying to be.

Still, there was no trace of mockery in your tone or your expression. If anything, you looked… fond. Like you knew exactly what he was trying to do and were giving him the space to figure it out at his own pace. It was almost worse, how kind you were being. It made him feel even more nervous.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, your tone a little softer. “If you ever need to talk about something important, I’m always here, okay?”

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. “R-really?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, warm and genuine. “You’re one of my favorite people, Kirishima. I mean that.”

If his face wasn’t already red, it definitely was now. He mumbled something incoherent and immediately shoved a piece of karaage into his mouth to avoid having to respond.

You watched him with a knowing smile, hiding your amusement behind your hand. Kirishima was a lot of things—brave, strong, ridiculously kind—but subtle was not one of them. You’d caught on to his crush weeks ago, noticing the way he always seemed to hover near you, his shy smiles, the way he’d stumble over his words whenever you were around.

You thought about making it easier for him, maybe taking the initiative and asking him out first. But you knew Kirishima. He had a certain sense of pride, a belief in doing things the “manly” way. If you took the lead, you worried it might make him feel like he wasn’t enough.

So instead, you played along, feigning innocence and giving him all the time in the world to work up the courage. It wasn’t hard—you adored watching him try.

“Hey, Kirishima?” you said, tilting your head.

He looked up, still chewing, and made a questioning noise.

“Do you wanna walk back to class with me after lunch?”

The piece of karaage nearly went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed violently, pounding a fist against his chest. “W-walk back with you? Yeah! Totally! I mean, yeah, sure. That’s cool.”

You laughed, standing up and grabbing your tray. “Alright, then. Don’t take too long.”

As you walked away to deposit your tray, Kirishima slumped forward, burying his face in his hands. “Get it together, man,” he muttered to himself.

But when you turned back to glance at him, your eyes meeting briefly before you gave him a little wave, his heart soared despite himself. Maybe next time…

Maybe next time he’d actually say it.

Weeks had passed since Kirishima had first worked up the courage to tell you how he felt. Or at least, he’d tried to. Each time, his nerves got the better of him, and what started as a firm resolve to finally confess ended with him fumbling over his words and making some excuse to leave. The poor guy had gotten so flustered that even some of your other friends were starting to notice.

“Is Kirishima okay? He’s been acting kinda weird,” Mina had whispered to you one afternoon during training, her eyes darting toward him as he hovered awkwardly near the punching bags.

You’d just smiled and shrugged, not wanting to out him. “Maybe he’s just got a lot on his mind.”

What Mina didn’t know was that Kirishima’s awkwardness was solely reserved for you. Whether it was the way his hands shook whenever he was near you, the way his voice cracked whenever he said your name, or the sheer panic in his eyes whenever you made prolonged eye contact, it was painfully clear to you what he was feeling. And honestly, you found it absolutely endearing.

Still, as much as you enjoyed watching him squirm, you figured it was time to give him a break. He’d tried, really tried, and you appreciated the effort even if he couldn’t quite get the words out. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands. After all, relationships were about balance, weren’t they? If he couldn’t say it, then you would.

The timing couldn’t have been better. The day was warm and golden, the late-afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the courtyard where Kirishima was sitting alone on a bench. You’d spotted him from the hallway and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. He looked so peaceful, his red hair catching the sunlight and his eyes fixed on the horizon as if he were deep in thought. You almost hated to disturb him. Almost.

“Hey, Kirishima!” you called, your voice breaking through the quiet hum of the courtyard as you walked toward him.

His head snapped up, and the peaceful look on his face was immediately replaced with a mix of surprise and nervousness. “Oh, hey!” he said, his voice just a little too loud. He quickly cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Uh, what’s up?”

“Not much,” you replied casually, stopping a few feet in front of him. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not!” he blurted, practically jumping to scoot over and make room for you. He patted the empty spot on the bench, his face already starting to turn pink. “Have a seat!”

You chuckled softly as you sat down beside him, noting the way he seemed to be holding his breath. He was always so animated around his friends, so sure of himself, but with you? He was like a different person entirely—shy, uncertain, and utterly adorable.

“So,” you began, turning to look at him. “You’ve been a little quiet lately. Everything okay?”

“Me? Quiet?” He laughed nervously, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Nah, I’ve just been, uh… you know, busy. With training and stuff.”

“Right.” You raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. “You sure that’s all it is? You haven’t been avoiding me or anything, have you?”

“What? No way!” His eyes went wide, and he sat up straighter, his expression almost comically earnest. “I’d never avoid you! I mean, why would I? That’d be, like, super unmanly and—and—”

“Kirishima,” you said, cutting him off with a gentle smile. “Relax. I’m just teasing.”

“Oh.” He let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders slumping as he realized you weren’t actually accusing him of anything. “Right. Teasing. Cool.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how flustered he was. “You’re so easy to mess with,” you said, nudging him playfully. “But seriously, there’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Y-you have?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat again, his fingers gripping the edge of the bench. “What is it?”

“Well,” you began, turning to face him fully. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been acting a little… different around me lately. Like, you’re nervous or something. And I think I know why.”

His face turned bright red, and he immediately looked down at his lap, his hands clenching and unclenching. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mumbled, though his voice lacked conviction.

You smiled, leaning in slightly to catch his gaze. “Kirishima. It’s okay. You don’t have to say it—I already know.”

His head shot up, his eyes wide with panic. “You—you do?” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I do,” you said softly, your heart pounding in your chest as you spoke. “And just so you know… I feel the same way.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as if he were trying to find the right words but couldn’t quite manage it. His cheeks were blazing, his eyes shining with a mix of disbelief and hope.

“Y-you mean it?” he finally managed to choke out, his voice trembling. “You really mean it?”

“I really mean it,” you said, your own cheeks warming as you smiled at him. “I like you, Kirishima. I think you’re sweet, and kind, and brave, and… well, I just really like you.”

He blinked at you, his hands gripping the bench so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Then, all at once, the tension seemed to leave his body, and he let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders relaxing as a huge, goofy grin spread across his face.

“I—I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice still shaky but full of joy. “This is… this is the best day of my life.”

You laughed, feeling your heart swell at the sight of him looking so happy. “I’m glad to hear that,” you said softly. “But, um… there’s one more thing.”

“What is it?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His entire body went stiff, his eyes going wide as his face turned an even deeper shade of red. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but giggle at the stunned expression on his face.

“Sorry,” you teased, standing up and giving him a playful grin. “Was that too much?”

“N-no!” he said quickly, scrambling to his feet. “It was—it was perfect! You’re perfect! I mean—uh—this is perfect! Everything’s perfect!”

You laughed again, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “You’re adorable, Kirishima. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Y-yeah!” he stammered, his voice cracking again as he tightened his grip on your hand. “See you tomorrow!”

As you walked away, his hand still warm in yours, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You’d made the right choice in confessing first. And judging by the way Kirishima was still standing there, staring after you with a lovesick grin on his face, you had a feeling this was the start of something amazing.

Feel free to request <3

[its-quiet-colter]

Mile High Club.

Agent Whiskey x Agent Pisco - Male! Reader

Word Count: 3926

Warnings: NSFW smut (18+), implied switch!whiskey & reader, friends with benefits, blowjob, handjob, thigh fucking, denial of feelings, semi-public sex (kinda) they b fuckin' in the plane.

Notes: this is apart of the Pisco and Whiskey series so i'll link part one. they're stand alones but meant to be read together :) i'm hoping for five or six parts in total !

| Part One | Part Two |

| archive of our own |

The Statesman’s private jet rumbles low and smooth as it makes its way towards Kentucky above the cloudline. It’s warm inside, with the faint smell of the distillery still lingering in the plane’s interior. The leather chair you’ve claimed as your own for the journey home is luxurious, the leather worn and high quality with its soft finishes and suede accents. The Statesman emblem embroidered onto the arm of the seat. 

Turbulence does little to unsettle the plane as its engine – high grade and expensive – keeps the ride graceful. It’s almost enough to lull you into a gentle sleep. And lord do you need it after your latest mission. There’s an ache in your shoulders that’s been there since this morning and a nasty bruise on the right side of your ribcage, left there from a chase through an underground marketplace. Turns out the selling of illicit drugs and illegal weapons was a high enough priority  for you and Whiskey to be sent out on a wild goose chase after the suppliers. But you were left empty handed, with nothing but battered bodies, bruised egos and both of your positions compromised to show for it.

You’re exhausted as you slump against the cushioning of the armchair, the scotch on your drinks tray having already been refilled twice over. You needed something to settle your nerves after such a long and grueling day out on the field. 

Ginger’s voice sounds muffled, distant and far away. Even as she only leans against the pool table in the middle of the room, folder in hand as she recites the debrief and talks you through the next steps. You fiddle with your tie again and look over to see Whiskey’s already pulled his free and has discarded it somewhere, undoing the buttons of his once crisp white shirt. It's there you realised he also stopped listening sometime between Ginger’s report of missing firearms and the serial numbers you found on the crates. 

Whiskey’s always been a little bit restless, always wanting to get out into the field and fix things himself– to not get bogged down in the paperwork and the meticulous details that Statesman requires of their agents. And he certainly never entertains Ginger when it’s her turn to run the post-mission debriefs.

Being an agent, much less one with a partner like Whiskey, has always been a cause for trouble. You’re exhausted and wrung out more often than you’d like to admit. But you love him, in your own fond way. Even if he landed you in Champ’s office more times than you can count for cutting corners and not listening to the intel provided. Convinced he can do it all himself. You remember Champ’s clear advice on the day you two were first paired together. Back when you were fresh out of the academy without the slightest idea of what Statesman had in store for you.

“He’s your responsibility, Pisco. Kid’s as reckless as you are. And I can’t have both my young bucks in trouble. I need you to be the level headed one– watch each other’s backs and keep the other out of trouble. Do that, and I think you two will do just fine here.” Champ had said with his classic southern drawl, rolling a vintage cigar in his fingers as he had gestured to the seat at the table that would always be held for Pisco. 

You’ll never forget the fond but expectant look he had given you when he welcomed you to the Statesman and told you Whiskey was yours as much as you were about to be his. Champ hadn’t meant it like that, of course. Partners in crime, the one to keep each other safe. Statesman could provide all the surveillance and intel you needed, but out there in the field– where explosions and bullets are occupational hazards rather than one-off incidents, it’s you who’d be out there covering his back. Partners, but not of that kind.

But then again, Champ didn’t think you two would end up frotting in the back of Tequila's jeep not even a year after being assigned together.

Lost in the thoughts of the good old days, you’ve completely given up on trying to pay attention to Ginger’s speech. I’ll apologize later, you think. Ginger’s always been a friend, and she puts up with your and Whiskey’s bullshit more times than either of you can count. You watch the jet pass through a thick layer of clouds, idly noticing the dew on the outside window and the way the landscape below disappears and reappears in quick succession. It’s rhythmic and soothing and enough to take your mind off things for a while.

Whiskey watches from his own seat opposite you. 

He notices the slight scuff on the side of your cheek from the chase during the mission, the way your suit is slightly askew and wrecked, and the way you’re reclined in the soft leather of the armchair– exhausted under the guise of being relaxed and boneless. He knows your appearance is due to the fact you’ve been running around all day, narrowly escaping every dangerous threat thrown at you. But in the soft lighting of the jet, he can’t help but think you’re not too far off from the dishevelled state he often leaves you in. When you’d both sneak away from those dry and boring meetings. Hidden amongst the barrels in the cellar that hoards Statesman’s finest collection of bourbon, Whiskey would be down on his knees, your cock taken down his throat as he milked you for all you had.

The sight of you now is all but a reminder of the taste of you.

It’s only been a week since you fucked him over the couch in that Seattle hotel, your hands holding onto his sides as he took all of you with his back arched and mouth left open in a drawn out moan. He can still feel you, the way you tugged on his belt to pull it loose, your hands moving him in whatever way it suited. He remembers the feel of your lips around the base of his cock, and the way you nailed his prostate which never failed to send him over the edge. 

Any other man would be flushed and embarrassed by the memory. But not Whiskey. All it does is serve to make his slacks grow tighter and his eagerness for you all the more intense.

You watch as he glares at Ginger, almost bothered by how methodical and well rounded she is with her research. Like he can’t wait to be done with this meeting and you wonder what’s gotten him so restless. It can't just be boredom, he’s always found a way to entertain himself through debriefs before. But then you notice it.

There it is. The slight shuffle of his body across the armchair as he tries not-so-subtly to hide his hard on by crossing one leg over the other and placing his hat over his lap. It takes all that’s in you not to laugh at the sight. Whiskey doesn’t know what subtlety is if it hit him square in the face.

You watch with satisfaction as Whiskey shifts, and then shifts again. The slight squeeze of his thighs and the way his ankles lock together. Awkwardly, he tries to alleviate the pressure in his pants, the faintest hint of friction enough to bite his top lip and lick the bristles of his just-barely overgrown moustache. He’s overdue for a trim, you think idly as you watch the movement of Whiskey’s mouth. The smallest of movements is more than enough to flood your mind with thoughts of him– lips around the head of your cock– and suddenly he’s not the only one suffering through Ginger’s debrief.

By the time she’s finished, clicking the off button on her clipboard and standing up straight, it feels like hours have passed. In reality, it’s more like twenty minutes or so, but it’s enough for you to settle your arousal and not embarrass yourself in front of your colleagues. Whiskey on the other hand has no such luck with his predicament, and you watch with a bitten back grin as he bolts to the bathroom the second she’s done talking. Almost tripping along the way as the door slams a little too harshly in a desperate attempt to separate himself from the rest of the plane.

“What’s up with Whiskey?” Ginger asks, standing beside you as she watches him go in slight confusion. There’s a gentle curiosity in her voice, along with an underlying tone of concern. She might not always see eye to eye with Whiskey, but she does care about him. You all do.

“No sé,” You say softly with a shake of your head, your hands stuffed in your pockets to hide the urge to fidget uncomfortably. “He’s probably just got flight sickness.”

She knows you’re lying. 

Ginger’s always been the perceptive one and it’s so blatantly obvious you’re not telling the truth since Whiskey has never been known to get sick whilst flying. Hell, he’s one of the few Statesman agents who is qualified to fly their F-22A Raptor Fighter Jet, Silver Pony. Something that Tequila never lets any of you hear the end of whenever he’s in a bad mood from having failed another pilot’s test.

The sound of a thud comes from the direction of the bathroom and you take it as your que to leave.

“I should check on him,” You say, the concern in your voice is only mildly convincing. You know exactly what’s wrong with him.

“Alright.” Ginger says with a final nod of her head, her fingers holding her clipboard like it’s suddenly become more interesting. She’s read the room, and she knows whatever is behind that bathroom door is a Pisco problem, not a Statesman one.

You watch as she makes her way to the bar, taking a seat and reaching over the counter for the closest bottle she can reach. She knows, you think. You have half a mind to ditch Whiskey and turn to her. Maybe you’d defend yourself, deny it. Try to assure yourself and Ginger that there’s nothing going on between you two. Nothing serious anyway. This thing you have with Whiskey– it’s professional. It won’t compromise either of you. You swear it. But even as you think the speech over in your head, the words sound unconvincing even to yourself.

The tick of your watch goes off. Another hour passed, and another hour closer until you’re back in Kentucky. It’s distractingly loud for such a small device as you shuffle your weight from one foot to the other. But maybe you’re just hyper aware of every little sound on the jet, too worked up to focus on just one thing. Undecided which direction you should walk as the silence rings out heavy in the room. You bite the inside of your cheek, considering both options before another thud is heard from the direction of the bathroom and your mind is made up for you.

Before you know it, you’re knocking on the door of the bathroom as you swear and fuss under your breath.

The lock clicks open, and Whiskey’s hand reaches out to tug you in with a handful of your shirt, shuffling awkwardly against the small counter to make room for you.

“Coño, could you have been any louder, Whiskey?” You grumble half-heartedly but he’s quick to bring you in for a searing kiss, well past the point of wanting to hear the lecture about public decency and professionalism in the workspace. Not when he’s preoccupied with the feel of your tongue over his teeth and your hands sliding up under his shirt to feel hot skin.

“Pisco.” Whiskey groans your name, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his head falls back against the bathroom wall. You go with him, following the movement until he lets your lip go as his mouth falls slack in a moan. God, he wants you.

It’s the first time you’ve taken a decent look at him since entering the bathroom. His suit’s ruined; blazer discarded against the lid of the toilet, his shirt rumpled and untucked with only half the buttons undone. Whiskey’s slacks are undone, belt still left in the loops as they rest around his thighs along with his underwear. One hand is wrapped around his cock, stroking himself desperately as he bucks and hisses into his palm. Desperate, you think. His eyes half-lidded and wanting as he looked at you expectantly.

Whiskey’s always been a show off. He’s come more times than he’s willing to admit, showing off for you. He loves to lay back and stroke his cock, arching and moan as he almost dares you to come over and make a mess of him. Whiskey is a man that loves to rile you up and play dirty, but you’ve seen how his own arousal betrays him. When his eyes widen and he tenses up when he realises he’s come too early and left spoiled in front of you.

“Pisco–” He moans again, this time his voice carrying a slight whine. Impatience is getting to him after being so worked up for a majority of the plane ride.

Whiskey reaches out, grabbing hold of your lapel. His thighs part as much as they can underneath the fabric of his slacks, wanting you closer so he can feel the press of your body against his own. He abandons his own leaking cock, needing both hands to tug at your belt and tug at the offending fabric keeping your arousal hidden.

“Come on, sugar.” Whiskey urges you on, tugging on the waistband of your to pull your member out from its confides. His hand, calloused and warm and already coated in his own precum, strokes you with a long drawn out movement from your base all the way up to thumb the tip.

Your head falls on his shoulder, groaning into the fabric of his shirt as your hips jut into his fist. It’s hasty and hurried, but the heat around you both from your breathy moans and body temperature has your head feeling light.

The bathroom is relatively simple, barely enough room for one person. There’s a small shower, a sink with a washer and cabinet mirror and a toilet in the corner. Everything is the same cream colour, but with the light off it's hard to notice so much– such an afterthought compared to the rest of the jet’s luxurious amenities. But you distinctly remember overhearing Champ telling Ginger all the planes are due for a remodel soon anyway.

“Switch with me,” Whiskey moans against your cheek, his hand moving fast around your cock. His own desperation making him more than eager. “Please darlin’.”

With a nod, you pull back enough to let Whiskey shuffle awkwardly around you. Trying to step over your leg without banging his tailbone against the counter. He can’t help but buck his hips when the movement has him grinding his oversensitive cock against your hip and he has to take a moment to just grip your shirt and stave off his orgasm. You can feel his hands flex as he clutches at your clothing, the way he tenses and he grinds his teeth together with his eyes squeezed shut. Frustrated at how close he is already as his hips roll forward.

“Steady.” The confidence in your voice surprises even yourself, sounding more put together than Whiskey, even if you feel just as riled up. “We’re good.”

You both shuffle around until your back is pressed up against the wall, your slacks down around your ankles. Whiskey spits in his palm, heavy and warm, his tongue lolling out lazily as heat pools low in your stomach at the sight. He rubs the insides of your thighs, feeling warm skin and strong muscle as he takes his time with all of you on offer.

Whiskey moves forward, his chest flushed against your own as he puts his cock between your thighs and thrusts languidly.

“Squeeze 'em for me, darlin’.” He moans, head tipped forward against your neck with his forearms planted either side of you.

The feel of Whiskey all around you, the smell of arousal and the warmth in your gut. It’s everything you love about him. How you two fit together perfectly. You do as you're told, thighs squeezing around his leaking cock as he bucks forward and thrusts against you frantically. His pace set early as he chases his own pleasure.

You can feel the weight of him against you, the way he thrusts into the heat between your thighs and you’re reminded to let him fuck you again the next time more space allows for it. He’s left you sated and properly wrung out more times than you can count.

“Yeah, so good, sugar.” Whiskey huffs under his breath, the praise delivered right against your ear. You can feel the brush of his moustache, the warmth of his soft little pants as he kisses down your neck and sucks a dark mark.

“Whiskey– below the collar.” You complain, pulling him into an open-mouthed to keep him from making it any less obvious between you two. Tongues roll together and the bristles of his facial hair against your top lip have you shivering as he whines into your kiss.

“You know that’s not how this works.” You’re left panting when you pull away, looking at him as your noses bump against one another.

“I heard ya, darlin’,” Whiskey says, his voice wrecked and as equally disheveled but the slight undertone of disappointment is there. You know him too well not to notice it.

You press an apologetic kiss to his lips, something soft and tender to cut through all the arousal and heat. His breath gets lighter, caught by something in his throat as you tug his buttons open and reveal his collarbone.

Whiskey’s cock twitches between the warm press of your thighs as you bite at his collar and leave a sprawl of little hickies and love bites. There’s the distinct taste of his sweat, his skin warm and smooth under your lips. If you could, you’d lay him out on a bed and kiss over every little bit of skin offered.

“Happy?” You ask, and his triumphant grin tells you all you need to know.

“Course I am, sugar.” Whiskey purrs against your lips as his eyes flash with excited arousal. His hips pick up their pace and he’s moaning against you. Precum beads from his tip, making the slide of his cock between your legs feel that much better.

Your hands move down his back, making him shiver as you brush against his waist. He thinks you’re going to settle on his hips, ease the movement of his thrusts– he loves when you set his pace, making him thrust at the tempo you want. a real cowboy through and through as he rides his stallion– but no. Your hands slide lower, down to Whiskey’s cheeks where you cup warm muscle in your palms and squeeze.

He moans, loud and filthy. 

Whiskey bucks forward into the tight heat of your thighs and then pushes back against your hands. The soreness in your bodies and the bruises littered all over you both are forgotten in the hazy fog of arousal. All he can think about is the heat of your muscled thighs around his cock and the way you hold him open. Whiskey can’t help the choked noise that falls from his lips at the brush of cold air against his hole. 

You kiss his temple, his cheek, whatever you can reach as his head rests against your own– almost like a warm and intimate embrace. Whiskey moans against your skin as he feels your finger against his entrance, not pushing inside but merely as a reminder of what will come later.

Heat coils low in Whiskey’s gut and he tries to push back on your fingers, wanting you. Needing you. Whatever you can give him. 

“Pisco–” He groans, his body tensing as his hips stutter forward and lose their rhythm.

Whiskey’s eyes go wide and he watches you, mouth slack as his orgasm hits hard. You feel warmth between your thighs, his come making a mess of you as he rides out his pleasure. The heat in his gut finally gives way as he calms down.

He’s boneless against you. Dishevelled and messy, Whiskey slumps forward so his chest is pressed against yours and his face is tucked against your neck.

“Mh,” He hums happily, eyes closed in blissful afterglow. “That was good, darlin’.”

Your hand finds its way to the back of Whiskey’s head, fingers sliding through his short sweaty hair on the back of his neck. Both of you stay like that, wrapped in a half-embrace, pressed together in a little bubble where the outside world is long gone.

As you’re catching your breath, Whiskey’s hand falls from your waist down to your neglected cock. He thumbs the tip, dragging his hand down in a languid pace now that he’s come. There’s no rushing in his movements.

It's here where you two forget you’re not a couple. Whiskey is your partner in everything to do with Statesman. But at the end of the day he heads to his own apartment, and you go to yours.

Sometimes you wonder if you two should just rip the bandaid off and talk about it. But that would mean talking about this. All these intimate little moments where Jack’s cocky persona is gone, his eyes half lidded as he watches the way you grind against his palm and he collects the precum leaking from your tip like it’s his prize for making you feel good.

“Jack.” You moan softly, your fingers curling at the nape of his neck as you twitch in his hand. He’s moaning too. Quiet little noises as his soft brown eyes are glazed over and his gaze is trained to the movement of his hand over your cock.

Your orgasm rolls through you, easy and relaxed as pleasure washes over you. Jack brings you in for a kiss as he strokes you through it. A soft, intimate gesture as you both hold each other.

There’s a long beat where neither of you move. Your back against the wall as your hands rest on his sides. Both of you are content to stay where you are despite the drying come on your thighs and the state of your crumpled suits.

It comes as a startle when there’s a rapt knock on the door. Two quick taps.

“Plane’s landing soon.” Ginger’s voice calls out, curt and quick. Like she’s practiced it in her head and now she can’t wait for it to be over with. You can hear the embarrassment in her voice. Apologize later, you remind yourself for the tenth time today.

Whiskey chuckles quietly against your shoulder, looking up at you with a raised brow. “Come on, sugar. We can’t keep 'em waiting or Champ’s going to chew us out again.”

Your eyeroll is to be expected, but so is your playful grin as Whiskey gives you a chaste kiss and pulls back to try and make himself look presentable again. Lord knows how difficult that will be, but a part of you– that quiet little part deep within your thoughts– honestly doesn’t mind the idea of you and Whiskey being seen like this together.

[crashdevlin]

High Walls in Gotham

Author’s Note: I'm so happy to be back!

Summary: Jason has known Y/n since they were running together on the streets. Now that they’re in their 20s, Jason is Red Hood cleaning up the streets of Gotham with bullets and blood, and Y/n is White Witch, the criminal elite’s favorite fence and Black Mask’s favorite advisor. With their places in Gotham so opposed, does their past even matter?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word count: 3438

Story Warnings: a bit of angst and mutual pining.

~~~

When rain falls in Gotham, it turns an already-dark city into a cloud of ink-colored oil slick. The city doesn’t care, though. It keeps going through the rain. Businessmen do their business, taxis run their fares, criminals plot their crimes, and heroes foil them.

Jason Todd continues through the rain, too. Three parts hero, two parts criminal, and one part little boy who never really grew up.

My security system goes off to inform me that I have a visitor approaching the door of the apartment. A blur of black and red passes the camera as I pull up the video on my phone. I get to my door and open it, just as he raises his hand to knock. It takes him by surprise and gives me a chance to get a good look at him. Red hood and matching mask, brown fatigue pants, black and red boots. His eyes are grey today.

He covers his shock quickly and pushes into my living room. “Shipment of guns coming in. Big one. I want details.”

“Please, come in, Jason. Would you like anything? A drink or perhaps a lesson in manners?” I greet him as I shut the door.

“Save it. I want names, dates, times. Now,” he demands, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me.

“Come on. If I knew something, I’d tell you. Sounds like you know more than I do.”

His eyes narrow further and I can tell he’s wishing he could intimidate me like he does other criminals. Well, it’s just too bad for him that I know him too well. “Quit playing dumb, Y/n. You get your fingers into any pie you can reach in this city. Last time an arms shipment came through, you were the one who told me about it.”

“Exactly.” I cross my arms and look bored. “I knew something, I told you. This time I don’t know anything, so that is why I have nothing to tell you.”

Jason glares more before sighing. “Fine. Let’s play a game. You answer a question honestly, and I’ll leave.”

I smile and nod. “Sure.”

“Who are you working for right now? And don’t even try that self-employed bullshit. You’re always in someone’s pocket.”

I lick my lips and take a breath. “Black Mask,” I respond.

“Black Mask again, huh? Figures. He’s the only one crazy enough to work with you repeatedly without killing you. ‘Kay, next question.”

I put my hand on my chest in mock offense. “Are you trying to wound me, Jason?” I nod. “All right, then. Next question.”

“You dating him?”

“What?”

“Dating, fucking, whatever.”

I laugh out loud, the sound echoing through my suite. “Are you serious, right now? I’d never let Roman touch me! He’s rich but he’s a fucking psycho. I have standards!”

“So you aren’t protecting him because you’re screwing him. So why are you protecting him?”

“I’m not protecting him. Black Mask doesn’t need me to protect him.” I shake my head. “I don’t know about any shipment of guns. I swear.”

He stares at me, examining my face for any trace of deception. He sighs when he doesn’t find any. “Something’s not right. I know guns are coming in. I’ve heard a dozen people whispering about it, but no one knows anything.”

“Have you asked your former mentor? Or any of the other birdies?” I ask, taking a step closer to him.

He tenses at the mention of his former family, jaw tight and anger in his posture. “Damn it. You think they might know something?”

“I learned a long time ago that Batman and Robin know what’s going on in this city. Much to chagrin.”

“Yeah. Which means they know about you working for Black Mask. They know you’re working with any criminal who throws money at you.”

I blink at him a few times before smiling tightly. “I’m not a stripper; no one throws money at me.” I step toward my kitchen, turning my back so he won’t see my emotions on my face. “And I’m a small fry. If they know about me, I’m likely listed as ‘nameless fence slash goon number 3’.”

I grab a beer from my fridge and distract myself with opening and drinking it. “You think I believe you’re just a fence?” he challenges, following me into the kitchen. “I know you better than that.”

“What, exactly, do you think I do, then, Jason?”

“Black Mask keeps you around for a reason, Y/n. If you’re not fucking him, you’re advising him, and if you’re advising him…” He grabs my shoulders and forces me to face him. “Then you’re protecting him, and if you’re protecting him, you’re lying to me.”

“I protect myself and those I care about. Roman doesn’t qualify,” I respond, glaring slightly as I look up into his eyes. “Now, I answered your questions. I’m done with your game. You can leave now.”

I move away from him, intent to show him the door, but he grabs my elbow to stop me. “I’m not-” he starts, but I’m done with our conversation. I spin back, gun from my back holster pressed against his temple.

“Let’s not,” I say coldly.

He looks at the gun for a moment. “You’re not left-handed. Think you could actually-”

“Safety’s already off and I doubt accuracy would matter much at this range. Would you like to meet God again?”

I’d never pull the trigger but he doesn’t know that. He puts his hands up and steps back. “Fine. I’ll talk to Dick, see if he knows anything.”

“Good idea,” I say as he walks toward the door.

“Oh, and, uh,” he turns at the door and smirks at me. “Your safety is on.”

I roll my eyes as he leaves. Of course the safety was on. I wouldn’t actually clock him with a loaded gun if the safety wasn’t safe. I sigh and take a seat on my sofa. I hate that I love that idiot. As terrible as it seems, I would’ve been better off emotionally if he had just stayed dead.

~~~

I spend a lot of time at the Black Mask Club. Roman likes having me around…and I like people-watching. There’s so much information that can be gleaned from watching interactions. I watch a couple clowns walk in, followed by the pigtail-wearing blond. Joker doesn’t follow, but the fact that his goons are with her says that Harley and Joker are back together. Wonderful. I approach and offer a smile to the clowns before Harley turns to me.

“White Witch! It’s been forever!” She wraps her arms around me and I return the gesture. She shoos away the goons and offers me a seat next to her at the bar. “Yer a fixture here lately, ain’ ya?

“Even when I’m not on his payroll, it’s a good idea to keep tabs on what Roman’s up to.” I throw a look at the goons. “I see you’re back with Facepaint.”

She shrugs. “Aw, Mr. J ain’t so bad. He bought me this bracelet to apologize.” She shows off a diamond tennis bracelet I recognize as having been stolen a week ago.

“You know I don’t judge, Harley, but-”

“Yeah, ya do,” she argues. “Yer still salty that my puddin’ put down your puddin’.”

I smile politely. “I do not now, nor have I ever had, a ‘puddin’. I’m just saying…deserve better.”

“Does she now?” A higher pitched manic voice behind me says. I have to work to keep the smile on my face as the clown joins Harley at the bar. “I give Harley everything she could ever ask for.”

“Of course! A happier woman, I’ve never seen,” I force out, keeping the smile despite the fact that I want to take a crowbar to Joker’s stupid, smiling face. “You two have a good night. Enjoy your drinks.” I turn away and walk toward Roman in the VIP.

“What crawled up her stovepipe and died?” Joker asks.

“She’s just lonely. Don’t worry ‘bout her.” At least Harley has the decency to keep her observations about me and Jason to herself. The last thing I need is for that clown monster to know I have a soft spot worth exploiting.

“Fuckin’ clown,” Roman says as I step up into the VIP area.

“I didn’t know you had a problem with Joker,” I say as I grab a glass of wine and take a seat beside him.

“Everyone with half a mind has a problem with that crazy fuck. He’s unpredictable.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Roman.”

“Has nothing to do with me bankrolling your lifestyle, then?” he jokes.

“Absolutely not,” I respond with a smirk. I take a sip of wine and settle in for the night, trying to ignore the clowns. Joker doesn’t deserve to be sitting in a bar with a beautiful woman at his side. He doesn’t deserve the cushy cell in Arkham that he’ll be in next time Batman takes him off the streets. Joker deserves an unmarked grave in a pauper’s graveyard. Of course, Batman would never put him down. He’d never do the right thing. He’d only do what he thought was right.

Jackass.

~~~

I leave the Black Mask Club at about 2 in the morning. I wave off the bodyguards that want to walk me to my car. I don’t need them. I sigh when I see Red Hood leaning against my car door. “Two nights in a row. You’re gonna make me think you’re sweet on me, Hood.”

“So I was thinking about our talk, ya know, before you pulled your gun on me,” he starts, ignoring my comment as he stands up straight. “You said you protect the ones you care about. I didn’t think there was anyone you cared about besides yourself.”

I nod, faking a thoughtful expression. “You’re right. You know me so well. I do only care for myself.”

“No, I’m thinking I was wrong, actually. I think there must be someone you actually give a fuck about.”

I push past him to open my car door but he puts his hand on the door to prevent me from moving. I push down my anger and look up at him. “Years ago, there was a dumbass boy I gave a fuck about, but he died about a decade ago.” I take a deep breath and look up into the eyes of his mask.

His posture changes but I can’t see expression because of that fucking mask. “Sorry. I was just-”

I roll my eyes, happy that it went over his head. “You were just pushing my buttons.”

“I was teasing. I didn’t think… what happened?” he asks, stepping back to let me open my door.

“Gotham happened,” I respond before getting in my car and turning it on. He steps back and I peel out of the parking lot.

I wish he would leave me the fuck alone sometimes. I had to see him dead already. I had to mourn him already. I can’t see him die again, not for this city and not for the goddamn Bat.

I wish I really was as cold and heartless as people think I am.

~~~

“Think we got one of ‘em to take the bait,” Roman says when I enter his office in the morning. I offer him a cup of coffee and take a seat in the armchair in front of his desk.

“Yeah? Did you get the Bat to bite?”

“No. Un-fucking-fortunately, I think it’s the other one…not the kid, the other bird.”

“Nightwing? Used to be Robin?” I ask, my stomach dropping a bit.

“Yeah. These idiot ‘heroes’ and their stupid fuckin’ names,” Roman sneers.

“Like Black Mask and White Witch and Poison Ivy and fuckin’ Calendar Man?” I snap, my heart racing with fear. Jason went to Dick. Dick is going to lead Jay into a trap.

“You got a fuckin’ problem, bitch?” Roman growls, leaning forward.

I lick my lips and shake my head. “Ya know, I think I might be PMSing. You need me to stick around or can I go home?”

“Yeah, get the fuck out of here. Don’t need your fucking attitude,” he dismisses. I stand and walk out of his office, forcing myself to walk to avoid his attention, but I want to run. I need to warn Jason. Now.

I race to Jason’s apartment, swerving through cars and going 80 in a 45. I screech to a stop, easily parking in front of the building and running inside. I slam my fist into the wood of his door. I wait a few seconds then hit the door again. Jason finally opens the door and I push into his apartment. He looks over at me, exhaustion on his face. He runs his hand through his hair as he closes his door.

“I hope you have a good reason to wake me up when-”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” I interrupt. His eyes go wide at my tone. “Do not go to the docks tonight.”

His eyebrows come together in confusion. “How do- Wait.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at me. “You lied to me. You do know about the guns.”

“Of course I do; it’s my job to know this shit. The point was for you not to know because it’s a fucking trap.” I step closer to him. “Roman was hoping to catch the Bat so he put rumors out in the world about the guns. It’s not for you.”

“What, you were gonna let Black Mask kill-”

“Yes! Let Bruce finally get what’s coming to him, sure! But not you,” I insist. “Not again.”

Jason blinks a few times before his expression softens. “You know I can’t just let those guns into the city.”

“Let someone else take care of it, Jason. Please,” I whisper.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Who? Especially knowing it’s a trap, who can I give it to?”

“Give it to Gordon. Let GCPD actually do their jobs for once. Or tell Batman. Let him know it’s a trap, that way he can prepare, but don’t walk into that shit.”

“Dick and I-”

I grab his shirt and look up into his eyes. “Don’t. Go.”

He looks shocked at the intensity in my expression. “Okay. I’ll…toss it to someone else.”

I sigh in relief and let go of his shirt. “Good.” I move to leave, but his hand wraps around my wrist and I turn back to look at him,. He’s looking down at his ugly carpet, white strands of hair falling into his eyes.

“That dumbass boy from your past that you were talking about… is he…”

I scoff and shake my head a little. Had to know he’d figure it out after this. “Still a dumbass with anger issues despite being murdered years ago? Yeah.”

He closes his eyes for a second. “What if…this dumbass…what if he cared about you, too?”

I take a deep breath as tears threaten my eyes. “Then he’d be a bigger dumbass than I thought ‘cause he’d be clinging to me the way I’ve been clinging to him.”

He takes an audible breath, his fingers tightening around my wrist. “You’re clinging to the real him… the old him. Do you want him back? That him, not the… ghost you’ve been talking to?”

I shake my head, the tears finally welling up. “You’re not a ghost, Jay. You came back…and you’ve been angry, but… anyone who doesn’t understand…they never fucking understood you in the first place,” I say, thinking about Batman admonishing him for becoming the Hood.

He looks over at me, his eyes green and wet with unshed tears. “Do you? Do you understand why I became the Red Hood?”

“Of course.” I discretely wipe my eyes and clear my throat. “You grew up seeing the same thing I did, the true darkness in the heart of Gotham. Then Batman took you from the streets and gave you a purpose more than just surviving. He taught you his morals and gave you a place at his side and that place next to him, it got you killed. And then…”

“And then I came back… broken and changed,” he says, his voice low.

“No. Not broken.” I blink away more tears. “Changed. Of course you changed. You came back different, angry at the way his morals put you in a place to…” I look down, anger filling me. “Joker should never have been allowed to live after the first time he escaped Arkham. Throwing them in jail over and over does fucking nothing. It’s a stupid cycle that Batman perpetuates because he knows that he is nothing if he doesn’t have anyone to fight against. You shouldn’t have had to pay that price for him.”

He looks over at me, shocked by some part of my diatribe. “You…” he starts, his voice cracking.

I lick my lips and take a deep breath to try to regain the composure I usually pride myself on. “When Bruce Way adopted you, I was so jealous. Even when I watched the Boy Wonder beat up my dad’s drug dealer and I heard your voice from under that stupid domino mask… I was happy for you. But when Joker killed you… I wanted to kill Bruce. It was his fault.” I tuck my hair behind my ears. “If I’d been older, if I hadn’t been a 15 year old girl with no access to billionaire Bruce Wayne… I would have tried, but I knew I couldn’t get close enough.”

“You still feel that way? After all these years?”

“Never stopped.” I clear my throat and pull my hand away from him. “Anyway.”

“Don’t ‘Anyway’ me. We need to talk about this.”

“What do we have to talk about? This doesn’t change anything. You’re still going to be trying to clean up the seedy underbelly of Gotham…and I’m still going to be stuck in that seedy underbelly. We can’t stop being who we are and we can’t afford to be each other’s weaknesses.”

Jason nods. “I get that but I want…can’t we just talk a bit longer?”

I take a breath and step back. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me something I don’t know about you. Something I missed after I left you behind to go play hero with Bruce.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears and look at his dirty carpet beneath our feet. “I used to dream of moving away somewhere, having a normal life. Used to dream of living that normal life…with that dumbass boy.”

“Yeah? What happened to that dream? What shattered it?” He moves to try and catch my eyes. “Was it the boy? Or because of Batman?”

I look up, smiling tightly. “It was me, actually. I realized that I’m never gonna make it out of Gotham. It was a nice dream though. It’s still kinda my happy place, where I go to rest my mind when the real world gets too harsh.”

“Tell me about the dream life. Where do we live? What do we do?” he asks quietly.

“A little farm in the middle of nowhere. Upstate somewhere, ya know. Just some chickens and goats roaming around. I’d work at the diner in town and you’d do something with your hands…mechanical stuff, maybe. We would have breakfast every morning on the porch and watch the sunset every night.”

Jason’s eyes get misty. “And what about kids? Are there…kids in the dream?”

I smile softly. “Sometimes. Sometimes it’s just us but sometimes there’s a baby.”

“And we’re…happy? Together on that farm, we’re happy?” he asks, his voice practically a whisper.

“That’s how I know it’s a dream, silly. Gotta be fake if I’m happy.”

“So, you’re saying…” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “...being happy with me is only possible in your dreams?”

I laugh humorlessly. “You tell me, Jason.”

He runs his hand through his hair. “You know it’s not that simple. We can’t just throw away our responsibilities, our missions. But God, I wish we could.”

I smile sadly and pat his chest. “Exactly. We’re both still here and, well, we aren’t going anywhere…together or otherwise.”

“Dammit. We’re stuck, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” I confirm softly. “But we’re alive. Stay that way for me, Jason. Please.” 

“I can do that…for your…happy place.”

I go to my tiptoes and press my lips to his cheek. “Thank you, my dumbass boy,” I say before pulling open his door and running down the stairs.

[volvolts]

Wanted to run this by you since you keep your own writing very grounded in the text.

What do you think of AUs that take Philip's self-centeredness and reverse it? As in run it in the opposite direction, from Genocidal Bigot towards Guilt-Paralyzed Loner? Do you think there's a right and wrong way to do such AUs? Does it sound like a realistic departure from canon to you?

i dont remember if i ever saw one in a long time (i think defanged belos was only one that comes to mind that's similar rn). i actually haven't seen a lot of au philip stuff like this (i honestly struggle starting a lot of things i've been meaning to get into and also sometimes its hard to find lol). plus writing a guilt ridden character (especially as a main character) is hard since there's a fine line between reading about someone's guilt and just hearing someone wangsting and feeling sorry for themselves. it can get annoying real fast. i also can't properly imagine the right "turning point" for him.

honestly i'm willing to accept breaks from canon if it's fairly minor "quality of life" moments and his turn is believable within the confines of its story ya know? generally i dont think there's a right or wrong way to make this work and if i dont like it it's usually because it goes against my personal takes on the show and not because of "quality" if that makes sense?

though any belos turning good stories im very picky about who they villainize and how they do it. its hard to explain but i feel like if they try to make kikimora worse than belos then i'm not that into it. i think if its feels like the author singled out a character to make them the bad guy because they dont like them, or at least they just like belos more and need a scapegoat if that makes sense? i dont really find this one a lot in this fandom so we're pretty good there tho

as for one that follows canon? i remember a post i saw a while back (i think it was from @/levshany?? i dont remember) where they said a "canon compliant" belos realizing he was wrong and giving up is next to impossible because he would try to die due to the guilt and we would never have the plot.

for something like this to be "canon realistic", this would be my idea of it

(talk of suicide under the read more)

an evil to guilt pipeline belos would be one where he just tries to die. if we want him to live until luz's time then we would have an "immortal who wants to die" situation. he's far enough where it's hard to die easily but not far enough where he's the emperor or anything. and i firmly believe that he would still be the villain

we need to also keep in mind he's still being self centered. he may feel remorseful for his actions but he's so caught up in his punishment and "what he deserves" he doesn't realize that there has to be other avenues to take because this idea clearly isn't working. if we go the loner route, he's a cryptid the witches spread around because they have no clue what he is, he's a lone man who will do any favors you ask but in return you must try to kill him, if you fail he'll end your life instead. he's forgotten caleb and his own hatred for the witches. he only remembers his guilt and his need to die and his anger and self hatred that he can't. he doesn't even remember his why anymore.

if he has the collector, i can see a route where he tries to find a titan to free him. their exchange is this: philip frees the collector and in exchange, the collector either kills or imprisons him as a doll along with everyone else (meanwhile philip is just unconscious and in his own head and no longer feeling anything anymore also i dont remember if luz's dream as a doll was the exception or the rule or only happening when the collector brings you out to play with)

philip is trying so hard to die that he does not care who is going down with him. instead of being a genocidal bigoted maniac, he's more like someone that needs to be put down because he has no idea where to start "redeeming" himself. he would be frustrating and pitiful to watch as he self sabotages and descends further into darkness. he made himself irredeemable because he believed he didn't deserve it.

the problem then would just be this is a complete departure of what the owl house is. forgiveness and redemption isn't that big a theme in toh thats for certain. their themes is self acceptance and expression, among other things. weirdos stick together and all that. this could technically be paralleled to luz's guilt but personally im one of the people who found luz's guilt sudden and also completely unfounded (like she didn't know, plus her helping someone only to make things worse by trusting the wrong person was never treated like a major flaw of hers before. it was something she did but it was never presented as something she needed to fix ya now?)

(but im kinda just rambling at the end here though. obviously fanfic, or any media tbh, is not obligated to teach you a lesson or reflect themes. i dont go into someones au and expect a dissertation. i just hope the author is having fun and other people are too)

[beef-brisket]

Adam waved to Bel as he lect the room and smiled when he saw Lucifer in the waiting room.

When Lucifer locked eyes with Adam, he stood and smiled. He could tell he looked more relaxed and had his thoughts about him.

Lucifer gave him a kiss: Hey, love. How did it go-.

Adam pulled him in for a hug: I'm sorry for how I've been acting... I'm getting myself together for you and Avery. You guys deserve better than what I've been giving you.

Kissing Lucifer, Adam pulled away, but held onto his hand: I-I love you Lu. Really.

Lucifer: I know you do, Addy. It makes sense that things from Eden and Earth would still affect you. I don't blame you, love. Would you like to book another appointment?

Adam: I've already got three booked in. Ones next week.

Lucifer: Oh! Very good. Shall we get something to eat, then?

Adam: Sounds like a plan.

-

Seeing as they were in Sloth, Lucifer found a nice cafe that had the best views. It was cozy and pretty much empty, so they got their food and drink quickly.

When they were eating, Adam felt his baby move again. He decided to breathe through it, trying to keep his panic levels down.

Lucifer: Ad? You okay? Y-you're not in pain, are you?!

Adam smiled as best he could: I'm fine Lu- Av's moving again... I'm just... trying different ways to deal with it.

Lucifer smiled: Would you like me to breathe with you?

Adam: Oh... uh... I mean, if you'd like.

Smiling, Lucifer joined and matched his breathing with Adam. Watching his face, Adam could help but chuckle.

Lucifer: What?

Adam: Nothing! You just look like one of those cock birds.

Lucifer laughed: "Cock birds"? I hope that's a good thing!

Adam: It is! Their adorable- uh... what are they called... cockatiel!

Lucifer: Oh, I see! And why do you say that~?

Adam blushed and pocked Lucifer's red cheeks: These and your hair. It kinda stands up when you're angry.

Lucifer: Does it, now?

Narrowing his eyes, Adam laughs as Lucifer's hair bristles and stands up. Hot as high as the bird, but you can see the difference.

Adam: Yeah! Like that!

Lucifer laughed and kissed Adam's hands.

Adam: Do you think Av will have your cheeks?

Lucifer smiled: You knows, love. Charlie is pretty much my little twin. Maybe Avery will be your twin. Or a mixture. Or maybe she'll look like some of the other angels. Genetics are strange, darling.

Adam smiled, thinking of his daughter, and for the first time, he rested his hand on the slight curve of his stomach.

Adam: I... I can't wait to see her.

Lucifer: Me too, Addy. Me too.

I really need some FtM Adam feeling comfortable wearing a dress.

I'm having some gender issues, so I'm craving some trans!Adam.

Rp of sinner!trans!Adam??

Oh are you okay? We can do that! ☺️

-

Adam brushed off any little crumbs that were on his dress, it wasn't very often that he wore feminine clothes anymore since transitioning but something about a nice dress every once in a while made him feel so fucking hot.

Not to mention that it was just his color, Adam swore he was meant to be rich why else would be look so fucking amazing in gold?

He should probably finish getting ready, his husband was waiting on him downstairs.

Adam slipped on some gold heels and earrings before going down to meet Lucifer.

Lucifer: There you are I've been-...... Wow

Adam: Looks nice right?

Lucifer: You look gorgeous my dove.~

Adam blushed as he took his hand and kissed it.

Adam: Worth the Wait?

Lucifer: More than worth it. You'll put everyone to shame at that party. Kinda wish we didn't have to go now, so I could poke around up your skirt.~

Adam giggled: Luci!!

Ugh, his voice cracked that hadn't happened in a while. But that's how flattered he is! Cheeky man working him up.

Lucifer: What?~ There's always time in the limo.~

He took Adams hand and they got in the limo. Lucifer put up the tinted window divider so the driver couldn't see them. Adam laid back in the long seat, he bit his lip as his husband went up his dress and pulled his panties down before disappearing underneath to eat him out.

((Adams outfit))

[brionysea]

if stranger things 5 comes out and they're like 'omg! the upside down has been a product of someone's dark and twisted mind this whole time! it's... WILL!' I'll immediately lose interest

[coquelicoq]

i ate a cupcake recently without first spending five minutes talking about how logistically stressful it is to eat a cupcake, so. i am capable of growth

[aromanticannibal]

it's honestly so hard to explain that you care for someone you like without using the words love

[ifindus]

✨"Meet the Artist" ✨

Name: Findus Age: 26 (29.03) Zodiac: Aries Nationality: Norwegian Orientation: Bi/Asexual Gender: Non-Binary (they/them) Education: Masters degree in Archaeology

[flower-khajiit]

I'm well into my second playthrough of Veilguard (with the Mourn Watch bacground) and I'm having so much fun. I love how much Mourn Watcher-specific dialogue you get with Emmrich and how geeky you can be about necromancy.

I also played through the intro as a two-handed warrior Warden, and had a blast. Normally two-handed warriors feel too sluggish for me, but here I just felt very powerful.

[mechazushi]

So, I've got this KafHoshi fic I'm working on and it's starting to turn into a, like, 5 + 1 scenarios kinda fic in the vaguest sense of the situation. Which means I need to come up with senarios about Hoshina falling head over heels for Kafka and I listened to Super Massive Black Hole by Muse, immediately followed by Landmines by Sum 41 and all I could think about for a day was a situation where Kafka had a "Homer learns the bass" moment in his teens and his mom or cousin or something was cleaning out an old storage container and sent him his old bass guitar.

Not to overindulge, but basically my mind wouldn't let go of the image of Kafka singing SMBH, but in his Kaiju voice, which then morphed into Iharu begging on hands and knees asking if Kafka could learn the bass line to Landmines and be the bass to his lead guitar and play the song on his birthday in front of the Third Division with him.

And THEN my brain was like....

"Ok, but a Saturday morning cartoon about A rock band getting mystical guitars that transform them into humanoid Kaijus with super powers so now they fight crime just because and they have to keep the identity a secret from the police and Dollar Store Iharu leads the team and in the first episode show starts off with the band needing a new bass player so they start tryouts and a Kafka-like character shows up and the whole team isn't impressed with him until he starts playing an absolute sick riff and they let him join and DS Iharu's dad is the band's manager and he's a shit dad but he knows about he Kaiju Guitars/private hero identity thing (Cuz' he's the one networking the media to help keep it a secret) and there's a side plot about Kafka the Bass player becoming DS Iharu'd Better Dad and Reno's there too, but he's the "No enthusiasm" Guitar seller that sold them their mystic guitars and he had no idea about what the guitars do and the team rope him in once he and the rest find out KnockOff Reno had been chosen to help the people that became bestowed with the Kaiju Guitars and now KnockOff Reno is the team's Guy-In-The-Chair and HE gets his OWN character arc and him and Dollar Store Iharu start to fall in love and then you find out that Kafka had a secret love child that he didn't know about and then spend a season off screen fighting for custody and I've given this way too much thought already but doesn't it sound REALLY COOL because I could see it becoming one of those cult classic shows that were only made to sell toys, but it became one of the few that managed to transcend beyond that..."

It's never going to happen. but I do agree with myself.

[fadeintoyou1993]

got to a point in my day to day life where i feel like if i lower all my expectations for everything ever and cut every single hopeful thought i can come up with that will With No Doubt become a whole Thing that turns into Anxiety and Regret and Desperation and finally Shame for Hoping (like. "good things could happen sure. whatever. if they don't it's not like i was expecting anything anyway lol") things would be easier for me. and it's like really sad and depressing to think that and i haven't stopped shaking today and i feel this intense need to start crying but i'm also just like lol whatever!! you know :)