#i would not call this self employment either

[comicsiswild]

Punisher War Journal (2006) #12

[hannieehaee]

ENDLESSLY (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: despite not having a large audience, jungkook's camboy career prevailed with the hopes that someday he'd make enough money to finally leave his dead-end job. what happens when one of his admirers offers to make that dream come true?

content: camboy!jungkook x trustfundbaby!reader, jungkook is shy, jungkook is a faceless camboy with a very small audience, reader is younger than jk, kind of pathetic!jungkook, reader is rich and very confident, slowburn (kind of), afab reader, smut, camming, masturbation (m receiving), oral (f receiving), dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 2126 (teaser); 12.7k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: june 28th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: this took me forever to finish lol i hope its any good at all</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Well, that's it for today guys, thanks for watching."

With an awkward chuckle, Jungkook reached out to his computer screen and shut the laptop closed, groaning just as he stopped being out of earshot.

233 viewers.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Jungkook the hope that maybe someday he'd be able to find pride in the number. Maybe his streams would blow up in views overnight one of these days – the hope prevailed. It had been a month since he hit the 200's, now garnering an average of 250 viewers per stream.

It was quite embarrassing to him sometimes. There were instances in which he'd finish a stream and regain full consciousness of his actions, becoming embarrassed at the knowledge of strangers watching him cum — of them hearing his voice and his whimpers as he played it up for their entertainment — and of him not even being able to make a living out of it.

He had to stay creative, sometimes finding scripts online that he'd read out to his viewers while he jerked off, playing the role of a subby coworker or a dominant childhood friend in order to keep his audience engaged (and maybe incite one or two to send money his way). Other times, he'd simply ramble about his life (but never get too specific) whilst he let himself lose control on camera.

Jungkook never once showed his face, only ever giving people glimpses at the tattoos decorating his arm and of his cock as it stood against his abs. The most he'd ever shown had been a small view of his lips before the camera's frame cut off.

He liked it this way.

In reality, he was too shy to ever be outspoken about doing such a thing, which was why no one in his life knew about it. He didn't judge anyone who enjoyed camming, but he was simply too self-conscious to do such a thing. Despite being aware of how handsome people thought him to be, he had never been too forward when it came to sex, much less this.

This had all started a little over a year ago, when he'd come across a few cammers on Twitter late into the night. Going on their accounts out of sheer curiosity, he realized that they each had a large following, not only on Twitter, but also on camming websites. Some of them even had their Patreons and PayPal accounts linked to their accounts, amassing even more revenue from these third party websites on top of their income from the camming sites. This was what mainly caught his attention.

Part of him felt bad about being on it solely for the money, but he was beyond desperate. And so he held the false hope that he'd somehow have the same luck as them and create an income out of this.

As someone who had only recently graduated university, having found no luck in his field, Jungkook had to resort to applying to jobs he felt were below his level of expertise. Having no connections in his field and no call-backs from employers, he found himself working a part time at a gas station accompanied by a part time at a grocery store. Both jobs were miserable to him.

The jobs themselves were not horrible, but attempting to manage both schedules and both sets of responsibilities was slowly weighing down on him. His coworkers were also not the best to be around. And did he mention the commute to each establishment? That part ate up at his days drastically, leaving him with almost no time for rest.

Jungkook knew that he should've given up on camming a long time ago. Hell, he'd made a grand total of $876 dollars in the past year he'd been at it. That would be a laughable amount to all the cammers that had inspired him into taking such a profession. But he didn't have any other prospects. Even as he worked his two jobs and cammed, he continued to search for more fulfilling (and better paying) employment, but was unable to ever even get any callbacks.

And so now he found himself doing about three streams per week, getting more and more discouraged each time he'd end a stream with the same low number of viewers.

With yet another sigh, Jungkook got up to go clean himself up, lethargic in his movements due to both the physical and mental exhaustion of having worked all day, only to come back home for a lowly appreciated stream.

Coming back from a much needed hot shower, he did his usual skin care before heading back to bed, where he had been recording just now. For a moment he pondered whether he should go to sleep now in order to get ready for work early next morning or to indulge in watching some anime as a reward for the tiring day.

Going for the latter, he opened his computer back up, sighing again when he remembered he hadn't closed the tab in which he'd been camming.

But before he could actually tap out of it, something caught his attention, making his eyes widen more than he thought possible.

burner98 donated $1,000

This must've been some sort of mistake. Right? Maybe they mistyped? No one in their right mind would donate such an amount to a faceless cammer ranking up to less than a thousand weekly views.

All his prior donations had been in the lower numbers, usually only ever amounting up to $20. Never had he ever gotten someone to donate anything in the triple digits, much less going into the quadruples.

The name of the donor also caught his attention. Babystarcandy. It was a frequent watcher who had been in attendance to every single stream of his starting a few months back — which was when they'd first made an appearance in his audience.

He had never noticed this viewer in particular, though they were one of the only people to ever grant him donations. They'd usually donate whilst he was off stream, which he found slightly strange but never questioned. Checking through his donation history, he saw this name listed three times prior, with donations of $5, $15 and $20 respectively. They'd happened throughout the months, with no pattern in particular. It made no sense for them to donate such a high amount to Jungkook out of nowhere, especially not while he wasn't actively on stream.

With a heavy heart and half a mind to simply keep the money, he decided to message the donor to inform them of their mistake and follow through with a refund.

So much for his anime binge before bed.

babystarcandy - Hey, burner98. Thank you so much for the kind donation, but I think you made a mistake. I'll refund you.

He decided to go with something kind of formal. After all, he'd never spoken to this person before.

Surprisingly, the response came within minutes. Being three in the morning, he assumed you'd wait til the following day to reply, but maybe you were in a different time zone.

burner98 - omg hiii !! did i make a mistake ?? im sorry !! i meant to send 1k. did it not go through correctly ?

Had that not been an accident? One thousand dollars?

This made no sense. Why would you send him such a large amount out of nowhere? That was more than he'd made in the entire past year. Hell, that was half his rent.

Jungkook had no idea how to respond to you.

As much as he wanted to accept it, it felt like robbing you of a fortune.

babystarcandy - Gosh, hi! No, the thousand came through, it's just ... Are you sure this is correct? This is a lot of money ... I'd feel terrible taking so much from you

Once again, you responded almost immediately.

burner98 - haha ur so cute

burner98 donated $2,000

burner98 - is that better ? ;)

Holy fucking shit.

Jungkook's hands were shaking at this point. His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him.

Quickly, he took out his phone to check his baking app, checking to see if the deposits were legitimate. Upon opening it, he found that his balance had in fact gone up $3,000. This was far more money than he'd ever had in his bank account.

He stared blankly at it for a few moments without so much as breathing. A reminder to snap out of his trance arrived in the form of another chime coming from his computer — a new message from you.

burner98 - did i scare u off :((

burner98 - just wanna help u out :(((

Immediately, he rushed to respond, not even thinking before typing anymore.

babystarcandy - no! not at all! this is just so much money. i dont want you getting yourself into financial trouble for me

Within seconds, you responded.

burner98 - haha it's okay i can afford it dont worry <3

He furrowed his brows worriedly, typing up yet another message.

babystarcandy - i really dont mean to sound ungrateful, but why ? it's so much money ... this is life-altering type of money for me (as made up as that may sound) my content isn't even that good. why are you giving me this?

He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by questioning it so much and not simply accepting it, but he'd learned through his life that good things don't just come out of nowhere. He needed more details. At least for his peace of mind.

burner98 - i adoooore ur content. u've helped me so much u have noooo idea !!! u deserve it !! u mentioned in ur live a week ago u were struggling with money, so ofc id wanna help u out pretty <3

Fuck. You actually liked his content? His content was worth $3,000 to you?

Jungkook was almost sure he had accidentally fallen asleep before he even opened his computer. Pinching himself a few times proved for this to be actually real.

babystarcandy - thank you so much. you have no idea how much this means to me.

babystarcandy - there has to be some way i can repay you.

Was he propositioning himself to you?

Not even Jungkook was sure. He had no idea what he was offering to you, but it was the middle of the night and he was extremely grateful. He couldn't help himself as he typed up that message and sent it.

burner98 - oh ? what would u suggest ?

Oh, fuck. You were agreeing. Okay ... Now what? Jungkook had nothing to offer. He was an amateur cammer with nothing to his name. What could some random person on the internet with tons of disposable income possibly want from him?

babystarcandy - maybe i could give you a call to thank you ? you know, one on one ?

He mentally kicked himself as soon as he sent that message.

What the hell was he thinking, offering up a personal call to some random person online? This could be a friendless creep for all he knew. He had no identifying information about you, other than knowing you apparently had a vast disposable income. I mean, hell, your account name was burner98, you clearly did not want to leave any traceable information about you.

Before he could backtrack (not that he would actually have the balls to), the three dots on your side of the conversation popped up, followed by another message from you.

burner98 - really ??? :00 that'd be amazing omg ... are you free tomorrow ? i'll make it worth your while <3

Staring at the $3,000 sitting cozy on his bank account, he didn't even let himself think before agreeing, sending a quick message in confirmation. He had work tomorrow, but maybe calling off would be worth it considering you were hinting at even more money.

Jungkook felt dirty for some reason, despite knowing what camming truly entailed. However, he also knew that there was nothing morally wrong with what he was doing, so he pushed that shyness to the back of his mind and began drafting up some sort of goodbye message that encapsulated your plans to call tomorrow and a few more thank you's for your donations.

burner98 donated $5,000

burner98 - just a little thank u for ur kindness ;) see u tomorrow baby ~

Jungkook had to swallow the gasp that was about to leave his body. Five thousand dollars??

You'd managed to drop eight thousand dollars on him within an hour's time. This was four months of his rent. Jungkook had never had this much money lying in his bank account. Its mere presence was making him nervous.

Not only that, but the thought of talking to someone who had this much money to give without a second thought scared him shitless.

There was no way he'd sleep tonight.

...

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[takusan-no-ai]

Let’s take a break

PAIRING: Lycaon x Female Reader (Romantic) (Angst)

SUMMARY: (Y/N) is a workaholic; and while Lycaon can relate to always having work to do, he also understands the importance of rest.

Lycaon loves his job dearly, always going above and beyond to achieve the best. And just as much as he loves his job, he loves his girlfriend. (Y/N), she’s a proxy of few words; not out of shyness, but simply a lack of time to speak. She works so much her inter-knot level maxed out in a month.

It was on one such days that Lycaon was lucky enough to have the day off. While the couple often worked together, actually spending quality time wasn’t as often as Lycaon would like. So anytime he could, he made it a goal to perfect every opportunity.

“Clean environment? Check. Flowers? Check. Favorite snacks? Check.” He mulled over every last detail. “She should be here soon,” he said while fixing his tie and brushing his fur. He sat on the couch, looking at the clock as time ticked by.

An hour late. Lycaon had already discussed with (Y/N) the meetup time. “She’s always been hard working, but it seems that has long gone past a healthy amount.” With his mind set in stone, Lycaon made his way to (Y/N)’s home.

“The number you are trying to reach is either turned off or in a hollow.” Lycaon tried to call (Y/N) for the fifth time; at first he thought she might’ve been away from her phone, but now his worry was growing stronger. He finally made it to her door and knocked multiple times, only to get no reply.

Lycaon leaned on the door and listened for anything. A sudden thud rung in his ears as he kicked in the door. “(Y/N)!” He screamed out.

The room was dark, windows covered with no light seeping through. Electronic equipment, takeout, and paperwork dirtied the living space. Lycaon sighed deeply, understanding the situation. He looked around until he found (Y/N), on the floor, having passed out and falling off her chair.

He moved her to the bed so she could sleep and proceeded to clean the entire house. Everything was spotless by the time he was done, and it was at that point he heard the floorboards creaking from the bedroom.

(Y/N) opened her door, having just woken up. There was a small bruise on her forehead from the bang, but it wasn’t anything permanent. She looked around aimlessly, noticing the clean interior (and probably exterior) of her home. She immediately knew what had happened. Her head hung low as she walked towards her couch and sat down.

Lycaon placed a platter of sliced fruits, veggies, and whole grains on the table. “They help relieve stress,” he said. (Y/N) covered her face.

“I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay.”

“If I had finished the work faster–”

“That wouldn’t have fixed anything.” He quickly shuts her down. (Y/N) grabbed an apple slice and ate it. Lycaon sat next to her, placing his tail in her lap. “You can pet it if you wish.”

(Y/N) petted his tail, the stress evaporating from her, but it was still too much. She began to cry, no amount of strength to hold back her tears. Lycaon pet her hair as she leaned on him.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

(Y/N) didn’t say anything for a while, not until she stopped crying.

“Ever since I was little, I grew up in a house where if you couldn’t do everything yourself after being taught once, you weren’t good enough. It was like a war zone, a never ending one.” Lycaon’s ears began to droop as she continued on.

“I was ostracized in my family, but the teachers, and my employers always praised me. So I guess I clung to that feeling. And sometimes…,” she started tearing up again.

“What is it?” Lycaon asked her.

“Sometimes…I feel like maybe I don’t really love you. Like maybe I’m self consciously clinging to you because of your praise, just like everyone else. And it hurts! Because I really do love you, but I’m afraid that I’ve just convinced myself to believe that.”

Lycaon caressed (Y/N)’s cheek, making eye contact with her. “If you know that you love me, then you love me. The way your heart beats, mine is in sync with. I feel your pain and you feel mine. That’s not fake. And it never will be. I love you too, (Y/N).”

She smiled, hugging him so tight it will likely bruise. “For starters, I’m going to cut back on the workload.”

“And I will be of service to you, my love. As always and forever.”

- Fin

[eclipse-has-come]

— John Price Imagine

Thinking about John Price being a victorian era gentleman that died young and owning an antique shop in a building that used to belong to him (he's haunting it).

Warnings: Kinda stalking? "He's a ghost living with you and you don't believe that he exists so he watches you go about your day" kind of stalking so if you're uncomfortable with that, you're welcome to sit this one out.

A/N: Hello everyone! It's my first post on here and i still don't really get tumblr so some things might look a bit weird. I have not written in so long I might as well have forgotton how to do so but I had this dream the other day and i had to write it down because omg it made me feral. Disclaimer, I am not a native english speaker and i have no beta reader so if there are any mistakes, I do apologize!

Anyway, enough about stuff you don't care about, enjoy this short imagine based on my dream!

You finished up your degree not too long ago and your neverending search for a job keeps going nowhere. Everyday you would submit your cv to at least 5 different employers and most of the time, you only received an answer from one. Every interview you managed to snag was a miracle in and of itself. Too bad those didn't go anywhere either.

Everyday while going to your bus stop, you'd see an old victorian building. While once upon a time It would have been a beautiful structure, now it's only a shadow of it's former self. When you first passed the vintage store-front while walking back from yet another failed interview, you payed little to no attention to the dilapitated bricks. That was until you got back to your flat one day and realized it reminded you of an old antique shop you used to visit back home.

Back then it was run by a kind elderly lady, who would always give you old toys that didn't sell well, you recall fondly. Back then younger you was fully convinced that your future was to one day run an antique store just like that.

It should've been just an ordinary morning but the day after you reminisced about the antique shop, something strange happened. While walking your usual route, you noticed with the corner of your eye a man standing on the stairs leading up to the entrance of the victorian building. You ignored him at first (no use in getting involved), until you saw him walk inside- no, phase inside the building.

You honestly didn't even register what had happened until you were walking back home, passing the cursed building yet again. You stopped in front of the entrance, resignation filling you, whatever demon wanted you to check out this poor lump of bricks and giving you weird visions in the process, it had won. Walking up the stairs, you spotted a lone flyer posted on the door:

"FOR SALE"

Underneath the large words was a poorly scratched on number that you could barely make out. That evening you sat on your couch, debating whether to call or not. If you were being honest with yourself, you were running out of options fast and growing more and more desperate by the hour. You sighed heavily and entered the number into your phone.

The cheap price should have been the first red flag, the previous owner claimed it was haunted and "wanted to be rid of the headache as soon as possible" or so they said. When you first entered the inside, you were in absolute awe, It was beautifully adorned with carved patterns, seemingly transporting you back in time.

An apartment was located on the second floor of the building, adding to the convenience of this inexpensive investment. The large display windows were eye catching and even though the building could use a lot bit of work, you could already see just how incredible it would look. Well, you always were a fan of fixer-uppers.

During your diy renovations however, some strange occurrences started to catch your attention. At first it was nothing out of the ordinary, a floorboard creaking (it is a very old building after all) or maybe a box falling over (shouldn’t have packed so much!) but then it starts getting harder and harder to ignore.

Paint splashes on the wall with the bucket it belonged to on the other side of the room, cracks in the window appearing overnight etc. You truly didn’t believe in the paranormal and when the previous owner warned you, you ignored it, waving it off as some guy's crazy talk but this was becoming a little too hard to scientifically explain.

Even still, you powered through, pointedly ignoring any and all warning signs. However annoying these inconveniences were, they weren't truly malicious. No harm ever came to you nor the antiques you got and by the time the store was ready to open, you could only sigh in relief. All of the blood, sweat and tears you poured into this project finally paid off, your younger self would have gone ballistic if they saw you now.

Walking through the aisles filled with old trinkets, admiring their unique charm and the way they looked on the hand-built shelves. You sincerely hoped the next owners would appreciate them just as much as you.

Opening day was incredibly exciting, you were certainly not expecting the amount of people coming to see the new store. Turns out the previous owner was well known in the community, ("The building was passed down through generations!" One lady told you while admiring the ornamental chandelier you installed.) which made many residents eager to meet the next unlucky owner.

What pleased you most of all, is that all unusual situations ceased or at the very least, you stopped noticing them. Which would be understandable, a week into opening and the store was full of hustle and bustle. It truly warmed your heart to see that others treated these unusual objects with as much reverence as you held for them. If there really was a ghost here, then they must agree that what you'd done for the place was for the better, you giggled to yourself.

You turned the ‘closed’ sign around just as the clock struck six on Saturday evening. Even though you're beyond happy the whole store thing worked out, you can't deny that you're incredibly tired. Who knew constant social interaction and standing all day would cause you to want to curl up in your bed all sunday. Walking towards the stairs leading to your apartment, you observed the half-empty shelves, a satisfied huff leaving your lungs. Walking up the creaking stairs, you noted down in your brain to put some paintings on the plain staircase.

Entering the old flat you tiredly trudged through the still unorganised rooms (almost all of your time was spent on the downstairs of the building, your living space was just an afterthought during the renovations), you entered the bathroom to take a long scalding shower. Due to your tiredness however, you failed to notice the near silent footsteps following you.

After several minutes of nearly boiling yourself to relax, you step out of the shower. Careful not to slip, you reach for your softest towel. ‘You worked really hard and now you could finally pamper yourself’ you decided. With your mind set, you turn over to the mirror ready to start your skincare routine when you suddenly freeze in your tracks.

On the steamed up mirror, a short sentence managed to make you reconsider your opinion on the paranormal up until this point. Written in neat letters and gorgeous handwriting, there it was:

"Hello Darling"

[hana-no-seiiki]

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ FIVE STAGES OF YANDERE ࿐: IDOL EDITION

“ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐋𝐋 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐃. “

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere! idol! oc (jisoo han) x superfan/manager! reader

✧ tw/cw: yandere themes, reader is also yandere at the start, mentions of anxiety and self harm, honestly idol life is its own tw

HAPPY HANA NO SEIIKI ANNIVERSARY YA’LL!!

[ series masterlist ]

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE ONE. ✧ DENIAL

“Oh gosh (oh gosh) this is so crazy. I’ve fallen in love again.

I trip so easily.

Adore new things, they sparkle.”

“Why are you so obsessed with him?”

“Dunno, just am.”

Your entire life revolved around Yesterday’s Dawn’s ace, Eve. The idol who had been in everyone’s lips. Whose name had been heard throughout nations you’ve never even heard of.

He was your sun, the reason you had the energy to wake up every single day, the light of your life.

Every waking moment you spent it either thinking of him or offering your services for name.

It was normal for you to spend hours looking at his schedule, knowing where he was, being around him most times, or staring at media of him.

Somehow, you were able to land a job as his manager.

You were finally closer to your god.

But you swiftly find out that no man should be likened to one for only disappointment can be found in such a path.

Eve was a lot more . . . burnt out than you expected. A lot less passionate and energetic than he was in camera if not irritable.

It was normal for him to harass workers when they didn’t meet a standard he imposed, as such, after the first few weeks of your employment everyone that you were with have already been fired, quit, and/or paid to keep their silence on the matter.

Yet your feelings for him only stayed; as your employment with the company. Your meticulous and proactive nature as a fan site owner allowed you to take much of the workload he threw at you.

The little admiration you have left for the man kept you standing.

And if only you were a little less stressed you’d notice his scarlet eyes providing stares of amusement, bewilderment, and growing affection.

You never complained (at least, in a place where he could hear you).

Whenever he asked for impossible items or schedules you’ll simply grin and work things out in your little way.

You adjusted to his turbulent temperament as quickly as an experienced pilot in a stormy sky, a sailor of uncharted, dangerous waters.

You were brilliant. Reminiscent of his times as a trainee.

Bit by bit he started lessening your workload. Allowing you to rest. Hell, even giving you his coffee if he didn’t want it. He never gives away his coffee.

You acquiesced to many of his whims but were never a pushover. Always doing your job perfectly. Keeping him in line.

He would have fallen for you already, had he not been in love with someone else.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE TWO. ✧ ANGER

“Peek-a-boo! It’s only love when my heart quivers.

All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem.

I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine!”

“ For this comeback period, [L/N] will be assigned to Hayate instead. Eve will have his senior’s manager work with him instead.”

“Understood.”

You were assigned to another member around Spring.

Yesterday Dawn’s most hectic time of the year aside from fall as the group’s concept was as the name suggested, focused more on nostalgia and times of youth.

You were relieved.

You never thought you would have been able to say that after being separated from Eve, but now it was the only thing you had on your mind.

No more late night calls about wanting coffee but throwing the leftovers at you the moment he was sick of the taste, no more work being thrown at you and taken away at random moments, no more working around his schedule so that he’ll have time to meet that dear senior of his in private.

You were free.

Hayate was known to be the harsher one in the fandom, but much like Eve his image was a bit different from his actual self.

Sure he was demanding, but he was fair. He wasn’t controlled by whims and impulse. You were finally able to do your job properly til the end, and you didn’t always feel a judging stare from him like Jisoo would always throw at you.

You were finally able to smile.

However, you see, being a manager for another member did not mean you would completely be free of your original client.

Hayate and Eve worked quite closely, and as such, you’d often help with Jisoo’s requests even if you weren’t obligated to.

Eve immediately saw the change in you.

You were, a lot more bright. Less haggard. Your voice less hoarse. Relaxed.

You were already getting along better with his group member than you ever did with him.

Eve wasn’t really the type to show his anger actively. He was always more, passive.

The senior he was head over heels for was slowly forgotten as he’d spent countless of hours pouring his feelings into his music. What was supposed to be a bittersweet spring album turned out to be one of sour regret and frustration.

Of course, it was still a hit. It even scored him a collaboration with the senior he oh so wanted to have their eyes on him. But all he could think of as he went to bed early in the morning was the way you’d laugh whenever Hayate spoke to you.

Hmph, the guy wasn’t even funny.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE THREE. ✧ BARGAINING

“Hey you, do you wanna play a game? I already know what you want.

Close your eyes and count to 10. Don’t matter anyways

Cause I am going to find you.”

“Did you hear? Jisoo got his first scandal. Apparently he bullied a bunch of students during high-school.”

“Wasn’t he . . . homeschooled?”

Causing scandals was easy. Dealing with scandals was not.

All Eve had to do was talk to some people, had a few pictures edited and voila, chaos.

It was amusing really, his company superiors would ply him with reassurances and sweet words; telling him that everything will be fine and dealt with while his pr managers dropped down like flies trying to prevent the flames of hatred from spreading too far.

All of them, hopelessly unaware.

All but his stupid senior.

“Why are you doing this now, Ji?”

They always looked down at him almost. Like he was a petulant child that needed to be coddled or scolded depending on their mood.

“We should focus on the track.”

And like he expected, you were brought right back to him. As you should be.

The heads figured out that you were the only one capable of handling the shitstorm without falling into the hands of alcohol or other substances in grief.

And as they expected you did.

After all, you had a timeline of his entire life in a canva document. Even if it was only mentioned once in a concert interview before they went famous. You were an Eve superfan.

All you did was confirm the fact that Jisoo got homeschooled by contacting his parents and teachers, and the rest was easy. You even reactivated your fansite for such an occasion.

If only you hadn’t.

Maybe then Jisoo wouldn’t have a definite reason to pursue you.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FOUR. ✧ DEPRESSION

“You’ll never get this concept, you might as well forget it

Just play again, bet it all, roll the dice

BLANCA”

Eve thought he was doing well in terms of romancing you.

Ever since he found out about your fansite instead of feeling disgust and horror he felt . . . great, amazing even. A high the stage could never give him.

Of course, you two were destined.

It was only his duty to protect you as your partner, to spoil you, dote on you.

Even if you don’t realize your intertwined fates yet.

. . .

Eve always hovered over you.

Usually managers took shifts with watching over the idols. Half of your time was supposed to be spent planning rather than overseeing his activities.

Yet you seemed to have a never ending babysitting responsibility.

Your past self would have committed several war crimes for the sake of this opportunity. But after a year or so under his ‘care’ you found yourself slowly veering off into the type of insanity you didn’t like falling in.

You felt a bit like Andy from the original Devil Wears Prada book, only that your resentment simmered slowly. Forming into a hideous red sludge of exasperation whenever he randomly wanted to take a vacation. Forcing only you to come with him. Which meant an even bigger workload, and even more people to talk to for flights, schedule conflicts, reservations and all that.

You snapped.

It was a calm afternoon.

The sun was burning you alive as Eve insisted you two would go on a ‘beach date’ for some summer fun.

He shoved a drink in your hand.

And you just broke down.

Tears fell from your eyes, your breath shallow.

You asked him if this amused him. If your suffering was funny to him. If making you fall over just to get his demands on time made him feel fulfilled as a person.

And before he could answer you ran.

A week after that your schedule was finally normal.

Eve kept his distance. Not just from you but from everyone.

You knew of his anxiety attacks and depression before. But seeing those up close and personal scared you.

Things only get worse from here.

⟣┄─ ˑ STAGE FIVE. ✧ ACCEPTANCE

“So it’s too late you’re in the game now. If you keep up might not lose it.

The jungle gym of fun, like hell yeah

Makin the moon fall down down down.”

Eve spent most of his ‘hiatus’ watching your posts of him. Edits, fanfictions, photography, fancams.

Of course, it wasn’t to see himself perform again. He already did that on a regular basis to make sure he kept himself up to the standards of an idol.

It was to see your captions.

Your fanatic raving made him feel . . . loved.

Your previous thoughts on his performances made him feel complete. Like he found a missing piece of a puzzle he kept trying to put something else to fill it in.

Another part of his hiatus was spent preparing for his graduation. The termination of his contract.

It was clear you didn’t love him as an idol anymore. It was his fault really. He couldn’t see how he was hurting you with his work and desires.

If there was another thing he can thank his idol work for was the amount of money he had saved.

Now, he had a new home built far away from civilization. It was completely soundproof. The bed he ordered was custom made, tailored to your preferences this time rather than his. Food stocked to the nines. A few instruments here and there so he could compose even while retired.

He can always make a new song, a new life for you two to enjoy together.

“My voice, my body, my soul. It had always been yours. I just didn’t realize it.”

✧ [AUTHOR’S NOTE]:

For more EVE content check out the #hns.eve tag 🩵

Lyrics are a mix of translations from the og song and Mitch Joseph’s cover.

OFFICIAL EVE CHARACTER AI

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

[tarotchariotpickyourcard]

PAC: Why you didn't get the job/placement

Wondering why you were turned away or didn't receive the call? It's natural to wonder, even if people tell you to just move on. Here is an attempt to understand.

Group 1 is a ring. Group 2 is a pink flower, Group 3 is a plant.

GROUP 1

THE EMPEROR -  TEMPERANCE - KING OF PENTACLES

Immediate impression is that the employer directly thought perhaps you as an applicant were not ready or prepared for the stress or situations that the placement might bring. They potentially would have wanted an applicant that was more ready to step quickly into the role, rather than someone they would have to spend more time/money training up or paying more attention to. This isn’t to say you’re not actually qualified, it’s more that this person just made their mind up and that was that. With king of pentacles this is more money oriented, more thinking on profit long term. They may have thought that you didn’t connect with them in terms of the long term impacts of the business/studies. If this was regarding specifically studies this could be that they saw it as a lack of foresight or big picture thinking. (Again, not saying this is actually true, if you feel that it’s an incorrect representation). 

I asked what the employer, or teacher or leader or whoever was in charge, was looking for that you may have missed in communicating or showing. The card is Drive. It says “No matter what my energy level is, today I’m lighting my motivational furnace and burning with drive. Starting now, I’m the reigning badass of productivity and I’m about to blaze through my entire to-do list and then some.” So if you were to apply again or with the same people, you may want to show examples of how you have been assertive, or a self teacher, or someone who has initiative in their work.

Now we have ‘Tijme to move on’ and ‘Stay optimistic’.It says “don’t quit right before the miracle occurs.” If this is something that crops up as a yearly opportunity or something to that effect, then stay optimistic that you can get a chance next time. If you are really interested in the role or type of opportunity, stay optimistic that you can get something similar in nature. 

If you are applying for roles or studies while you’re already in something, time to move on suggests letting go of where you are mentally and emotionally first. That will energetically open you up to more opportunities. Stay optimistic suggests holding on for a bit longer and trying to visualize positive outcomes that make you feel happy, like something has happened.

I drew a card as something that you can show off about yourself and it is imagination. It says “I treasure my imagination, and I can conjure it at any time. My imagination helps me dream up creative solutions to complex problems that I wouldn’t have thought of from inside this same-old box.” So you are someone who can think up some helpful solutions, even if they seem a bit different or strange. You can think differently and really add to research, work and teams.

I’m sorry that you were turned away, but it’s looking positive for you in the future so good luck.

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GROUP 2

So we have the 8 of swords and the king of swords. We also have time to move on and blessed change. This was not the job or placement for you anyway, I see really strongly it wouldn’t have been beneficial for you in the long run. There is something more unexpected for you down the line.

The reasoning seems more based on how you appeared as a person?  I feel like the ones who interviewed were people who saw themselves as logical, down to business and they may have seen you as an applicant who was more in their head in an inefficient way? I just don’t think you were a fit, on either side. So the course, or the workplace, or the environment, wouldn’t have really gelled. I’m sorry I can’t see any more than that to be honest. 10 of swords as an extra is hinting to me that maybe you said something that put them off and that was the nail in the coffin. I’m not saying you said anything drastic, it could have just been something that made them think attitudes were different, or values weren’t aligned. For example, I know someone who wasn’t taken on because they said they were a direct person in the workplace. Imagine not wanting someone who is direct. So please don’t take it personally, I just don’t think you were for each other.

I asked what they were looking for that you may have missed, or didn’t show. The card is prep work. “I make friends with the quiet loners, organization and planning. And I suddenly realize how cool they are! I start hanging out with them, and I bend to their influence. I even allow them to give my daily habits a makeover. Normally I wouldn’t succumb to peer pressure, but isn’t efficiency the best?”

Yeah, definitely seems like they were looking for someone like themselves (in their opinion). Now, let’s have a card showing what you can show off about yourself that you have. Self Reliance (ah, so you can be a one man band at times). It says: “I am a confident, capable, walking, talking, learning machine - and I practice total self reliance every chance I get. Even if something’s tough, I can probably do it. Even if something is new to me, I can probably figure it out. Or maybe just google it.” Whether you think you’re confident or not, you have a quiet type in work where you know you will manage things. This is a self starter energy that doesn’t run away. Do you know some people get afraid at the idea of working at a different branch or with a team that isn’t their usual? I feel like you would walk in there and introduce yourself and get on with it. You can walk into a job needing to learn on the go, and you wouldn’t bother colleagues as much as they think a new hire would.

Good luck, I see a positive unexpected opportunity that you will be able to go for because you’re still freed up. It’s going to make you grin.

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GROUP 3

10 of pentacles, The world. Empowerment, Wait, Let yourself receive.

There’s something here regarding timing or travel. Maybe they needed someone asap, but you had a 6 week wait to go. Timing could have just been off. Perhaps there was time between jobs or roles that they didn’t like. Maybe there was a need to travel when you were asking for remote work and they weren’t willing to give it. Another possibility is you didn’t seem enthusiastic about their desire to hop from site to site, or travel for a longer period of time for a project or course.

Empowerment makes me think you told them about a boundary or limit, but they weren’t willing to shift, compromise or allow. I get a very stubborn energy from the employer/interviewers side. If they were really immature, they could have noticed if you weren’t very early. Maybe you were right on time or a little bit late for the interview. I feel like you had a lot of good qualities that they were looking for, but it was more the practical aspects of things that got in the way.

I honestly don’t see anything too deep. I think you did a very good job in the interview or discussions you had. I think you’re able to stand up for yourself and refuse to give more than you can. I think you have a good head on your shoulders. You deserve a better role or placement that gives you more in return for what you do.

The cards that you have on your side to show next time in an opportunity are risks, and enthusiasm.

Risks says “ I take big risks and leap into the unknown with fearless abandon, knowing that the best surprises and richest experiences come from bold choices. Worst case scenario? The unknown is filled with spiders and they swarm me and eat me and decorate their spider cave with my bones. But what are the chances.”

Enthusiasm says “When I have to make a spreadsheet, sit in a long meeting with no coffee, or do anything else I don’t like, I dig deep and find a way to be enthusiastic about it. The difference between having to do something and getting to do something is all in my perspective.”

So the cards are overall saying bide your time for better results, the right place will accept what limits you genuinely have, and there can definitely be a fair give and take for you. There is patience needed though.

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Hope it made sense have a good one.

[lightdancingwords]

Come Find Me - Part Three

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader, Beau POV

Series Summary: You are a new arrival to Big Sky, Montana, and found gainful employment with the local insurance department next door to the sheriff’s department. A whole new life with your past haunting you, while Beau is still dealing with the entanglements with his ex-wife. Can either of you succeed in overcoming your ghosts?

Word Count: 4,214

Tags/Warnings: some fluff, some angst, divorce, child in middle of fighting parents, mention of domestic violence/intimate partner violence, profanity

Divider: credit to @tsunami-of-tears

A/N: I'm still learning tags and warnings, so if I got something wrong or mislabeled or missing, please let me know. I'm also still learning to do Y/N and "you" writing. Bear with me, folks! Enjoy!

Chapter Three: The Autumn Festival

Y/N had been working at The Big Guy for a couple of weeks, swamped with handling the clientele. In the mornings, you’d open up and be inundated with phone calls and appointments. Doris made sure you ate—she’d sit on you to make sure and nearly made that threat a reality once—and traded gossip with you. You actually looked forward to her visits; she was the calm that anchored your life. She was practical, hilarious, and willing to call you out when you put yourself down. She was great for your self-confidence.

Despite her warning the first time she brought you lasagna for lunch, Beau did not come to talk to you about the files. If anything, he seemed busy every time you saw him—he’d be on the cellphone, interviewing victims or witnesses, or doing a ton of paperwork. You felt your heart clench, confused.

You weren’t ready for a relationship, you’d told yourself a dozen times. Then you’d remember the way it felt when Beau held you and allowed you to cry into his chest and your heart ached. Men were definitely confusing, you decided.

One morning, as you arrived early to open the office, Doris caught you with a large poster in hand. “Mind if I post this on your door, sweetie?”

“What is it?” you asked, intrigued.

Doris showed you. It was a lovely orange-brown color with bright yellow words announcing Big Sky’s Autumn Festival. There was a list of events that would happen—a dance, potluck style buffet, a pumpkin carving contest, Big Sky’s largest pumpkin competition, and an apple bobbing contest. You boggled, amazed. Billings never had anything like that.

“Oh this is charming!” You gave Doris a smile. “Yeah, go ahead and put it on the door. I don’t have a problem with it.”

“Excellent! Got any tape, hon? I forgot to grab some.”

You nodded, and snatch the Scotch tape dispenser. Just as you turned back to hand it to Doris, you spot Beau stalking out of the sheriff department, a stormy look on his face. He slammed his truck door and took out of the parking lot with a squeal of wheels.

“What the… is everything all right, Doris?” you asked, handing her the tape dispenser.

She pursed her lips. “What I’m about to tell you, you are sworn to secrecy. Do I make myself clear?”

Your brows lift in surprise. “Of course.” You wondered what it could be that Doris was about to tell you that would require such a promise. Not that you’d go around gossiping.

“It’s Carla. She’s not letting Beau have Emily for Thanksgiving.” Doris’s expression spoke volumes as to her opinion on the matter.

“Oh.” You weren’t sure how to take that. “Is… is there a reason? I mean, don’t they all live here in Big Sky?”

“Yes,” Doris said with a frown. “But Carla wants to take Emily out of state to see family in Texas. Beau can’t take the time off to do it.”

“Oh…” Your heart sank, aching for Beau. “That has to be hard for him.”

“It is. It is.” Doris sighed, finished putting the poster on the door. “Doesn’t help he’s still half-in-love with Carla.”

Your heart clenched. “What?”

Doris must’ve heard something in your tone and gave you an apologetic look. “I know I said he looked smitten with you, hon, but—”

“No, it’s fine,” you said with a wave of your hand, lying through your teeth. In a way, yes, Doris’s comment had bolstered your hopes of maybe something happening, though you weren’t sure you could handle a relationship right now. The thought of competing against an ex-wife and a teenager wasn’t exactly on your Bingo card.

“Uh huh.” You swear, Doris had a built-in lie detector. “Look… it’s complicated. Just like it is for you.”

You swallowed hard, a lump in your throat. “It is…”

“You’ll get there, hon,” Doris said kindly. “I did.”

You blink in surprise. “You found love after Stan died?”

“Oh, wait until I tell you about Adam!” Doris laughed, low and full of affection. “But not right now. Beau’s comin’ back and lord, he looks set to burn.” She sighed and shook her head. “Will you come to the festival?”

You glanced at the poster. Normally you hated gatherings, but you knew it was because of Mark. Mark made everything impossible—if not for bruises, it was his attitude. You were free now, and no more black eyes. “I’ll be there,” you decided bravely.

“Excellent! We’ll see you Saturday!”

Doris left, heading out to the parking lot to meet Beau. His expression was still stormy. You watched him interact with Doris for a few moments, his eyes dark, his expression guarded. You felt your heart ache for him, wondered if it was a fight with Carla.

As though he sensed your gaze on him, Beau looked up. Even shaded, even dark with anger, the green of his eyes were undeniable. For a long moment, the two of you held each other’s eyes. Then, he nodded to you, and turned his attention back to Doris.

Heart pounding, you went back to work, answering the first call of the day.

—

“Well, it just ain’t fair, Carla—” Beau fumed as his ex-wife once again cut him off. He heard her, then snapped, “You can’t have her for both holidays, dammit! No I won’t watch my blasted language! She’s my daughter too!”

Doris watched him through the window of his office door, and more often than not, heard everything he was yelling into the phone. She shook her head sadly, waited for him to finish.

“I’m her father, Carla! I’d like to actually see her before the damned new year and have a goddamned—no, I won’t watch my tone or my language!” Beau pulled his phone from his ear and scowled when he realized Carla had hung up on him. It took everything he had not to fling the phone across the room.

He raked his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to yank at his hair or punch the wall. It wasn’t that he was prone to violence; just that Carla had him thoroughly upset and he honestly didn’t know what to do. Technically, yes, Emily was old enough to make the decision to not see him for the holidays, but he didn’t think his daughter would actually avoid him.

God, he missed his daughter. She’d been so busy with school, with her extracurricular activities, with her boyfriend, and even working part-time over at Cassie’s private detective agency. He kept thinking that maybe she was avoiding him because of the kidnapping, that seeing him brought back the trauma, but Emily kept insisting it wasn’t that.

He just… missed her.

And Carla.

He missed his family. He missed what he had. He had something so beautiful and then he lost it because of a goddamned bullet. Beau clutched at his cellphone hard, his head bent, as he struggled with the intense emotions swirling inside him.

He heard the polite knock on his door and looked up to see Doris entering. He let out a sigh and stood up straight, tucking his cellphone into his pocket.

“Carla’s not cooperating, is she?” Doris asked, straight to the point.

“She says it’s Emily,” Beau muttered.

Doris narrowed her eyes at Beau. “Why don’t you believe her?”

“Because I—” Beau bit off the rest of his comment.

“Because you can’t let her go,” Doris concluded and shook her head.

Beau turned away, clenching his jaw. He honestly hated how observant Doris could be at times, and this was one of them. She just saw through the bullshit and called him out, even when he threatened to fire her over it.

“Beau… don’t make me say it again,” Doris scolded fondly.

His shoulders tensed.

She rolled her eyes and proceeded to say it again. “Carla’s moved on. She’d remarried once, widowed, and last I heard, she and her new boyfriend are doing pretty damned well.”

“I know that!” he snapped, turning to face Doris.

“Well, then, act like it!” Doris retorted, not at all afraid of his anger, the threat of losing her job, none of it. “How long you gonna hold onto this dead marriage? Before or after it chokes you?”

“I—” Beau let out a heavy sigh and slapped his hand on the desk.

Doris regarded him with something akin to pity. She used to have a ton of compassion for him, then as time went by, she realized that he was clinging to something that festered like an infected wound. He couldn’t let Carla go, because he still loved her. But clearly, Carla moved on, finding love not once, but twice, since the end of their marriage.

One sided love wasn’t love, but obsession. Doris was going to keep smacking that into Beau until he finally learned that lesson.

“Is Emily leaving town this weekend?”

“What?” Beau looked up, confused by the odd question. “No. She’ll be here.”

“Invite her to the Autumn Festival then,” Doris said. “Spend the weekend with her. Have fun.”

Beau blinked at Doris, as he realized she was right. The festival would be a nice event to spend with Emily.

Doris rolled her eyes. “I swear, Beau, you’re thickheaded at times.” She shook her head. “Call Carla back, apologize for yelling at her, and extend the invitation to Emily. Have fun with your daughter this weekend.”

Beau scowled at Doris, grabbed his cellphone, muttering profanities under his breath.

Doris smirked and left his office.

—

It was festival day. The weather was brisk with just enough sunlight to keep the temperature on the warm side. You picked a simple light sweater, jeans, and comfortable low boots, your hairstyle simple to keep the wind from throwing your hair in your face, and your makeup basic. You looked, in your mind and opinion, cute.

Arriving at the festival, you found that the downtown of Big Sky had been taken over by all sorts of harvest and autumn theme decorations. As though Halloween and Thanksgiving wasn’t enough, they simply had to insist on additional festivities. You found you didn’t mind, because it was charming and fun, a way to cling to the warm weather before Montana winter kicked in.

You parked at the local public parking and opted to walk the way to downtown. There were crowds of families of all colors, shapes and sizes. One family in particular had you aching, because they were juggling a number of small children and a baby in a stroller. The dream you wished you could have.

Determined not to let Mark and your past bring you down today, you shoved that thought into the back of your mind. Today was a day of fun. You’re gonna have fun, dang it.

“Y/N!”

You looked back and saw Doris heading up to you. She was wearing a cheerful orange sweater that didn’t quite hurt your eyes, with pumpkin-topped hair pins in her bun. You couldn’t help it, her appearance made you smile.

“Hi Doris!”

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Doris said, grabbing a hold of your elbow. “I have so many people to introduce you to! You’ll love them! Maybe make a friend or two!”

“But—”

“Nonsense. Come on.”

You surrendered to the force of nature that was Doris and resigned yourself to being shown off to a number of people in Big Sky. You ended up introducing yourself multiple families, multiple groups of women, and quite a few of the men. Most were friendly, with a couple of seemingly off-putting personalities.

By the end, you felt smiled out and ready to isolate yourself for a bit. Maybe grab a snack or try the apple cider you kept seeing folks with. Doris seemed to sense you needed to recharge and dragged you to the food vendors.

“I expect to see you by the dance floor later, hon,” she said with a smile, waving you off.

You could only stare after her. Definitely a formidable woman. You shook your head with a small smile, and decided to indulge in some apple cider.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You nearly spill your drink as you jerked around and saw Beau with a young woman with dark brown hair and dark eyes. Instantly, you knew she had to be Beau’s daughter, because there was something about the shape of her mouth and eyebrows that made you think of him.

“Hey!” You smile; the smile came so easily.

“Hey. Y/N, this is Emily, my daughter.” Beau gestured to you. Emily stepped forward, offering her hand. You took it easily as he continued the introduction. “Em, this is Y/N. She works for Arthur at The Big Guy.”

“Oh yeah! Arthur’s such a hoot,” Emily said. Her grip was firm. It instantly reminded you of how Beau shook your hand.

“You’ve met him?” you ask, genuinely interested.

Emily nodded brightly. “Oh yeah! I was visiting my dad at the department and Arthur came in ‘cause one of his clients needed a little more help than he initially thought. Before you know it, I’m hearing all sorts of language from dad’s office.”

You laugh, glancing at Beau to confirm. He had this pained look on his face that had you biting back another laugh.

“Not the best introduction,” Beau said simply.

“I learned a lot of new words,” Emily said with a cheery grin.

Beau groaned, covering his face with his hand for a moment. You gave in and laughed some more.

“He’s definitely a colorful character,” you said in agreement. “I never had a boss like him before.”

“I’ll bet!” Emily beamed. “I’m sure you learned a few new words you could teach me.”

“Em!”

You grinned, amused at Beau’s outrage. “Fortunately for your father, no, I didn’t. I’ve been covering the office while Arthur’s been out of state dealing with some family problems.”

“Oh. Darn.”

“Em!”

You bit back a laugh. You liked Emily. “You’re planning to go to college, Emily?”

“I am! I’ve been looking at University of Texas,” she announced. Beau glanced at her in surprise. Clearly that was news to him too.

“Then trust me,” you confided with a playful grin meant for Beau, “you’ll learn a whole lot when you get there.”

“You are not helping,” Beau accused.

“I’m supposed to corrupt young people,” you said with a smile.

Beau threw you an exasperated look that had you laughing. Emily even joined in the laugh, her dark eyes sparkling.

“In all seriousness,” you said with a smile. “What do you plan on studying at U of T?”

“I’ve been interesting in doing videos and recording, so maybe media,” Emily said.

Beau glanced at her. “I thought you gave that up after last year?” he asked. There was something in his tone that pricked your interest. You wondered if it was related to the kidnapping that involved Emily and the serial killer.

“Well… I decided that I wasn’t going to let Buck destroy my joy,” Emily said, her response measured.

“That’s very brave of you, Emily,” you said gently, entirely understanding where the young woman was coming from. You found yourself thinking about the joy Mark had taken from you, and what you had just said to Emily. Maybe it was time to recapture some of the joy he denied you.

Emily straightened under your praise. Evidently it meant a great deal to her that you were impressed. You wondered what Beau told her about you.

“I’m going to get some churros, okay, dad?” Emily asked, before adding to you, “It’s really nice to meet you, Y/N! I’ll see you around.”

You waved ‘bye’ to Emily, and she left you and Beau alone.

“She’s a lovely girl, Beau,” you murmured, glancing up at him. “She’s got your spirit.”

“You never met her mom,” Beau said, wry and amused.

You chuckle. “Is she here? I’d love to meet her.”

“God, Y/N, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Oh, Beau, it can’t possibly be that bad,” you chide gently.

He sighed, rubbed his face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad few days.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. You truly were. Beau seemed like a sweet man who had a bad hand a few times in his life.

“No, it…” He shook his head. “It’s not your problem, Y/N.”

You stiffen, offended. “I thought we were at least friends, Beau.”

“What?”

“Or… oh.” You took a step back. “It really was just… words. Nevermind.”

It stung. You did care about Beau. You thought he actually cared about you. Your mind flashed back to the hug, the way he comforted you. Maybe you read too much in that moment. God. You felt stupid. The emotions were swirling in turmoil inside you.

Damn Doris for getting your hopes up.

“No, Y/N, that’s not it,” Beau said, stepping forward and gently grabbing your arm. “Hey…” He gently gripped your shoulders, meeting your gaze. “This ain’t easy for me,” he went on, his voice low and soft.

“What isn’t?” you asked, your voice equally low.

“I…” He released her shoulders. His jaw clenched as he struggled with his emotional upheaval. “We are friends,” he said at last, his voice tight.

“Then why does it sound like it kills you to just say that?” you asked, searching his face. “Friendship shouldn’t be hard, Beau.”

“You ain’t being fair,” he said.

“I’m not being fair?” you echoed in disbelief. “You said you cared and then you turned around and acted like I don’t!”

“What? No, that’s not—”

“I need some air,” you said, cutting him off. The miscommunication between the two of you was distressing you to proportions you weren’t able to handle in that moment. When you saw Beau take a step toward you, you held up a hand. “Don’t! I just… I need a moment, Beau. Please.”

You saw his jaw clench and he swallowed hard, as though holding back a response. Then he held his hands up and stepped back. You let out a relieved breath and walked away, your thoughts all tumult. Relationships, god, they were so difficult. She could barely handle a friendship, what made her think she could handle anything more? And Beau—

“Hey Y/N,” Emily greeted, holding a churro in her hand. She paused, then studied your face. “Oh. Dad got stupid, huh?”

You blink, blink again. “H-how…?”

Emily smiled ruefully. “Dad’s in the habit of doing stupid shit.”

“I should scold you for language, but I did say I’d corrupt you,” you joked. Such a bad joke, but Emily grinned.

“But yeah…” Emily sighed. “Dad’s… done stupid stuff. He does foot in mouth all the time. He should, like, get an award or something.”

You smile, bemused. “Any tips on how to get him to remove that foot out of his mouth?”

“You mean, besides, like, yelling at him like my mom does?”

“Yes.” You pause, rub the back of your neck. “I don’t think that works though. Um, no offense, but I’ve seen the look on your father’s face after he’s argued with your mom.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen it too,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “My parents are rather infamous for it.” She huffed the breath of an exasperated teenager. “Dad’s just more stubborn than mom.”

“Got any tips?” The words came out before you could stop yourself. “Shit. Oh god, Emily, I—”

Emily was laughing. “I’ve heard worse. Don’t worry.”

“No, it’s not that.” You met Emily’s dark eyes and decided to treat her like an adult. “I shouldn’t be putting you in the middle of any disagreement I’m having with your father.”

“That’s okay. I like you, Y/N. Dad does too. I could tell.”

Your brows felt as though they were going to fly off your forehead. Emily saw and laughed. She shook her head and looped her arm around yours.

“Come on,” Emily said, walking with you through the festival vendors. “Look. Dad’s… stubborn. Mom described it as rock headed and mule stubborn. I always thought that was funny. I kinda get it from him too. Also why we butt heads a lot.”

Bemused, you listened to her as she rambled on.

“Ever since my parents split… dad kinda dug his heels in and wouldn’t move. Drove me crazy. I watched mom date, get a boyfriend, got married. I mean, okay, he also died—” Emily’s voice shook, then she cleared her throat. “But… mom moved on. I know she loves dad. She always will. I’ve seen them together, and I see that they still love each other. It’s just… dad’s still being an idiot.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “Do your parents know you’re this perceptive?”

“No.” Emily laughed, her hair brushing her shoulders as she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think they look at me and think I’m still 10.”

“God, I remember that feeling.”

Emily grinned. “But you’re not wrong. Mom… she seems to think if she yells at dad enough, he’ll stop being stupid. It doesn’t work.”

You slant a look at her. She was definitely a mature young woman. You suspected Emily did a lot of growing after her kidnapping… or maybe even during her parents’ divorce. “So what would?”

“Turn it on him. Don’t yell, get him to think. Not like how Doris does it,” she added with a laugh. “She gets away with it because dad doesn’t want to lose the lasagna.”

You laugh. “It really is good lasagna. I can see why he’s terrified of losing it.”

“Well, it’s not just that. Dad’s an awful cook. That lasagna is his one homemade meal.”

“Oh my god. Are you serious?”

“Yes.” Emily grinned, and you saw the difference. You hadn’t met Carla, but suspect that was what you saw in the young woman.

“You’re very wise, Emily,” you said at last, as the two of you ended up at the music stage. The band was beginning to tune their instruments, check the settings of the speakers and microphone. There were ropes to divide a section for sitting and listening or for those who wanted to dance.

“Thanks, but I know I’m not,” Emily said with a half-smile. “I got a lot to learn.”

“That’s wisdom you know,” you said kindly. “Knowing we need to learn. That we don’t know everything. It takes a lot of strength to say that openly.”

Emily slanted a look at you, then asked quietly, “Doesn’t that mean you’re also brave?”

You paused, and glanced at Emily. “Because I asked for help?”

“Even if you didn’t mean to at first, yeah,” Emily said earnestly.

“Thank you, Emily,” you said, having a better understanding of how to approach Beau. Not to mention, a growing friendship with this incredible young woman. “Remind me to trade phone numbers with you before you leave. If you ever need someone to talk to.”

Emily brightened. “I’d like that!” The band began a lively tune and she glanced over at them. “Um, you okay if I go watch?”

“Absolutely.”

You smile as Emily went running to join a group of equally same aged young women. Probably schoolmates or friends. You stood there for a long moment, a warm feeling in your heart. You liked this young woman. She was intelligent, kind, with a bit of sass. Even if things between you and Beau soured, you hoped to remain friends with her.

A familiar presence brushed your senses, and you knew Beau had caught up with you. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, and glanced at him. “Hey…”

“Hey darlin’,” he said, his voice quiet. “Listen… I’m sorry.”

“No,” you murmured, turning to look at him. “I am. I was forcing something when you weren’t ready. I’d probably have better luck pushing a mountain.” You smile gently at him. “I mean, you are kind of similar to one.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Smartass.”

You grinned, then sobered. “I hope you can tell me what’s going on someday. You’ve been so kind to me, and I care about you.”

Beau met and held your gaze, and something flickered in his green eyes. Something that sparked a kindle of hope in your heart. “Thanks, darlin’,” he said softly, brushing back a loose strand of your hair.

The music changed and he glanced up. He shifted his gaze to you and held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

Your smile bloomed and took his hand. For the remainder of that night, you and Beau danced. He taught you a particular Texas dance that had you laughing and falling out of step more often than not. He spun you around in a lively waltz. When the evening closed with the last song, he held you close, his hands at your waist.

When the festival lights began to dim, vendors closing up and cleaning out their merchandise, you knew it was time. Beau looked at you for the longest time, something soft and sweet in those brilliant green eyes. He touched your cheek, a whisper of a caress, and murmured his good night.

Heart pounding, you found yourself whispering the good night back and parted ways.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

Take Care of You

Summary: Y/N is run ragged. Her employer keeps throwing more work at her, and she’s too nice to say no. She’s also been keeping Jensen’s businesses afloat while trying to keep an eye on their families with him away filming. She’s overwhelmed, stressed and hasn’t been sleeping well. When Jensen comes home after finishing his movie, he notices his girl’s not doing great and plans a weekend filled with “her” time.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Established Relationship for @jacklesversebingo

Warnings: tw: mentions of cancer, tw: mentions of cancer treatments, tw: dementia, domestic fluff, massage, smut, oral sex (f rec), p in v. 

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a very self-indulgent story that I wasn’t sure would ever be shared. This has been my life for the past few years, and when I sat down to write something, this is what word vomited onto the page, and I couldn’t stop it.

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“Honey, I’m home!” Jensen declared as he opened the front door, quickly closing and locking it behind him. The lamp in the hallway was on, your purse and laptop bag were sitting on the sideboard, and by the text you’d sent him two hours ago asking if he wanted anything special for dinner tonight, he knew you were home. Why then, he frowned, was the whole house silent?

Dropping his bag next to the sideboard, Jensen moved further into the quickly darkening house. “Y/N? Babe?” he called out again, still being met with silence. Walking into the living room, he huffed an annoyed breath, shaking his head in disbelief at the state he’d found you.

You were still in your work clothes: pinstripe pencil skirt, black button-up blouse and tan stilettos. Your hair was still in a tight, professional bun, and your glasses were pushed up on your head. From the look of things, you got home, put your bags down and immediately fell asleep on the couch.

That damn job was going to be the death of you. They took and took and took, giving nothing in return. You were eager to learn, take on more responsibility and help everyone around you. They took advantage of that and turned your kindness and willingness to be a team player into an expectation. Not only was it expected, it was now frowned upon if you said no. So you didn’t, and God help you if you told someone else in your team that they had to be the one to stay late because heaven forbid, you did actually have a life outside of the office.

Jensen sighed as he looked over your beautiful face, blemished by dark circles around your eyes that makeup could no longer cover. How long had this been going on? He’d been away filming for a month and, with other commitments, hadn’t been home. He was contractually obliged to attend conventions on two of the weekends. Another was his own doing; he was exhausted and couldn’t be bothered packing and travelling to spend only thirty-six hours at home. So, instead, he promised he’d come home next time and went to play golf with a buddy. The only problem with that plan was that he couldn’t come home that weekend either as you’d caught Covid. The guilt he’d played golf instead of coming home to you still ate at him.

You both knew you didn’t need to work. Jensen made enough to support you and allow you to live comfortably, but you wanted to work; you needed to. And when he was away for work, you got lonely and threw yourself into work. Jensen had tried several times to convince you to travel with him and spend your free time doing what you loved most: writing. He thought he’d made a fool-proof argument for his case, but you outsmarted him with a flaw in his master plan; you had responsibilities to your family. And to his. Someone needed to help care for your elderly grandparents. God, both your parents were now at an age that even they were considered elderly, and you felt it was your responsibility to do all the heavy lifting for the generations that came before you.

So many aspects of your dad’s health deteriorated since he battled stage four prostate cancer a few years ago. The chemotherapy weakened his immune system, and he never fully recovered from its poison. The treatment exacerbated his arthritis, and his joints were now in constant pain. But it was his memory that was now concerning you. He was forgetful during his treatment, which was understandable because it was one of the side effects. That, and his mind probably ran through a million different scenarios about his mortality. It was just that it wasn’t getting better. It was getting worse. He’d told you the same story twice in the hour you’d visited last week, and now there were changes in his behaviour that doubled your worry.

Jensen hadn’t meant to worry you when he’d asked you after Christmas dinner with your family if your dad was doing alright. He’d told Jensen the same story several times while you were there, and he thought he was helping you out by mentioning it. He’d been upset when you admitted you’d been concerned for a while and hadn’t told him. When Jensen asked why you hadn’t talked to him about it, guilt flooded him when you said work was keeping him busy enough and that he didn’t need to be stressing about anything else just now. 

You’d told him back then that you’d been trying to convince your mom to talk to him and seek help, but they were as stubborn as each other. When the woman wouldn’t even stop smoking after having a partial lobectomy because of lung cancer and radiation treatment for throat cancer, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

A light had been switched on, though, when at your mom’s birthday dinner, there were just too many things that couldn’t be ignored, including your dad calling you his recently deceased sister’s name and acting completely inappropriately for a restaurant. Your five-year-old niece had behaved better than him. Finally, you managed to convince your dad to see a doctor. Eight months and various appointments and tests later, a diagnosis of frontotemporal dementia, one of the rarest kinds of the disease, was confirmed. Two days before your birthday, no less.

As he watched your sleeping form, he knew something had to give before you became ill, and his plans for a weekend filled with couples excursions and dates quickly changed. It was now your weekend. You had a family barbecue up in Dallas that you couldn’t miss on Sunday, but until then, he’d take care of you and everything else that needed doing in the house. He’d force you to relax all weekend if it was the last thing he did. And it started with making your favourite comfort food: mac and cheese.

Jensen lit some candles around the living room to give a dim light rather than switch on the brighter lamps and wake you. Heading to the kitchen, he put a pan of water on the stove to boil before pulling his phone from his pocket and calling his mom.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you?” Donna greeted cheerfully.

“Yeah, I’m good, ma. How’re you doing?” he replied as he opened the cupboard and pulled down the box of fake cheesy goodness.

“We’re fine, son. How’s Y/N?” his mom asked, and he smiled softly at the affection in his mom’s voice. His whole family adored her, welcoming her into their family with arms and hearts wide open, taking her in as one of their own without hesitation.

“Uhm, let’s just say I’m glad I’m home for a few weeks. My girl needs a little looking after,” Jensen chuckled dryly.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I don’t think she’ll ever change. She always puts others before herself. Is there anything we can do to help? You know if you need to miss Sunday, you can. We won’t be upset,” Donna sympathised.

“We’ll be there on Sunday. I think it’ll do her good, you know? Relaxing by the pool and seeing family. But I wanted to ask you something,” he said.

“Anything, son,” she said instantly, and Jensen chuckled at his mom’s worried tone.

“You know that lavender bath stuff from the place in Dallas you got her obsessed with?” Jensen asked, grinning at his mom’s relieved laugh.

“I just sent her some. It arrived the other day. There are bath salts, bath bombs, bubbles, and some candles. And the pillow spray. Oh, and the essential oil! You could give her a little massage!” There was a grin in her voice, and he shook his head with a chuckle.

“Alright, I get it!” Jensen chuckled. “I was going to ask if you could pick some up for us coming up there, but if she’s got some, that’s even better! I just need to know how to use it.”

“Okay, so you want to start with lighting the candles...”

You could feel something soft and warm caress your cheek, and you start to wake. Your eyes flutter open, taking a minute to focus through the dimly lit room, and finally, find the forest-green eyes of the love of your life, and you smile at him with a contented hum. Jensen smiled softly back as he continued to stroke your cheek gently. “Hey, sleepy head,” he whispered.

“Jay, you’re home!” you grinned, voice husky from sleep. “I missed you, baby.”

“I missed you too, darlin’. It looks like someone came home and crashed out,” Jensen chuckled softly.

“What time is it?” you ask, rubbing at your gritty eyes and yawning. You had to admit that although it wasn’t your intention to indulge in a nap, you did feel much better.

“A little after nine,” Jensen answered and laughed at your gasp.

“Nine!? I’ve been asleep for three hours?” you groaned in annoyance.

Jensen smiled and gently gripped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Yeah, and by the look of this, you need much more,” he gently runs his fingers under your eyes. “Those dark circles would make a panda claim you as one of their own, and that was before you rubbed at your eyes and messed up your mascara!”

“Oh, God!” you groaned.

“Hey,” Jensen said, “you’re still beautiful, baby,” he smiled. “I made you mac and cheese. Eat. I’ll grab a quick shower to get the plane smell off me, then I’ll run you a bath,” he held his hand out to silence your protests. “And if you’re a good girl and let me take care of you, you can have a massage when you get out,” he grinned boyishly, knowing he had you where he wanted you.

“A massage or a full body massage?” you giggled as you watched him search for the right response.

“I’ll tell you what. Eat, bathe, and pamper yourself in the tub with a glass of wine and a face mask, and after, I’ll give you a normal, completely innocent massage. If, and only if you still want that,” Jensen licked his lips and smirked, “full body massage to help relieve any deep-rooted tension, then darlin’, I am at your service,” he rasped in his ‘Dean’ voice, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been a month. The only way to get rid of that kind of tension is for those talented fingers to work it out of me,” you lowered your voice seductively. “And I think it’s gonna take a few… releases,” you smirked at his darkening eyes, ���to get rid of it completely.”

“Fuck!” Jensen groaned, and you grinned mischievously.

“Oh, and if you need to relieve some tension, my hands and mouth are at your service. Although,” you teased further, “I can think of somewhere else that’ll appreciate it a lot more, and I guarantee you won’t regret using it to your advantage,” you winked.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby girl,” Jensen grumbled as he headed upstairs to shower and prepare your bath.

You cleared up the mess Jensen had left in the kitchen, rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. He’d be mad at you for doing it, but you didn’t care. He was also tired and deserved not to worry about a messy house.

Opening the cupboard, you pulled out two glasses. A crystal tumbler for Jensen’s whiskey and a wine glass for you. Filling the ice bucket, you pulled one of his good bottles of Scotch from the cabinet, put it in the bucket, added a bottle of wine, and went upstairs.

The scent of lavender filled the hallway, getting stronger the closer you came to the master bedroom. Smiling, you stopped inside the door and leaned against the wooden frame. You watched with a soft smile as Jensen moved around the room and lit candles. Most were unscented pillar candles, but you noticed the little glass votives on each bedside table and knew they were somewhat responsible for the soothing fragrance permeating the room.

“Found my secret stash, huh?” you spoke, grinning at Jensen’s damp, hedgehog hair and guilty look. “Hey, I’m not mad, baby. Thank you for doing this,” you gestured to the candles and the soft acoustic music playing lowly.

“Anything for m’girl,” Jensen walked over to you and pecked your lips. He took the ice bucket and glasses and placed them on the dresser. “I put your robe over the heated rail so it’ll be nice and cosy when you get out,” he glanced at you with a soft smile, opened the wine bottle and poured you a large glass.

“Thank you,” you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He chuckled and pulled you closer, arms around your shoulders and tucking your head under his chin. You sighed and melted into his body.

“What’s this for?” he asked, kissing your hair.

You shrugged, “I just need a hug.”

Jensen kissed your hair again and pulled away slightly, looking down at you with pure adoration. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want for the next three weeks.”

“Promise?” you grinned into his chest.

Jensen chuckled and pulled you in tighter, “I promise. Now, let’s get you in that tub, huh?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “It smells amazing in there!”

Jensen let go of you, filled the wine glass and handed it to you. “Go on in and enjoy. I’ll be here when you get out,” he kissed your forehead and gently pushed you towards the ensuite bathroom.

You gasped at what Jensen had done in there. It was lit only by candlelight, and the steam billowing from the tub filled with bubbles and the lavender scent surrounding you immediately made you relax.

You sighed as you walked to the double sink and stepped out of your heels, kicking them under it. Grabbing a brush and a hair tie, you pulled your hair free of its constraints and brushed it out. Replacing the tight, professional bun with a much more comfortable, messy one, you opened the drawer, grabbed your face cleanser and began to remove the day’s dirt, grime, and makeup, frowning at the dark circles under your eyes.

Finally, you stripped your clothes off, leaving them in a pile on top of your shoes, intending to put them in the laundry basket later. You looked through the sheet masks you kept in a little basket on the counter, settling on one with chamomile and aloe vera, keeping the relaxed vibe in the bathroom.

Sinking into the tub, you sighed loudly as the hot water encompassed your tired body, enveloping you in a warm hug. You placed the mask over your face, rested your head on the bath pillow, and sighed again, letting the water soothe your body, and the lavender soothe your soul.

Relaxed, warm and sleepy, you walk into the bedroom with your fluffy robe wrapped around your body.

“There she is!” Jensen smiled when he saw you. You already looked more relaxed, making him feel lighter than when he first saw you.

“Come on, lie down,” Jensen said, placing a towel over the bedding to protect it from oil. You walked towards the bed, untying the robe. Despite seeing you naked thousands of times, Jensen turned his head to give you privacy. Once ready, you crawled up the bed and lay comfortably on your stomach.

“Comfy, baby girl?” Jensen’s voice is quiet, and you feel the bed dip with his weight. You hummed in response and shivered as his warm hand ghosted down your spine. Jensen poured the lavender aromatherapy oil on his hands and rubbed them together, warming the liquid between his palms.

Straddling your thighs, but careful not to put too much weight on them, he rubbed your lower back, sweeping his hands over your skin, covering it with the slick oil. Moving to your shoulders, he tuts and shakes his head.

“Poor baby, all knotted and tight up here,” he murmured as he increased his pressure.

“Hmm,” you moaned. “Feels good, Jay.”

“Yeah?” Jensen asked, working his thumbs into the knots along your shoulder blades.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you purred. You hardly ever took time out for self-care, but when you did, it was something you enjoyed, and you wondered why it was something you didn’t make more time for.

Jensen’s hands continued to work out the knots, and he smiled softly with every moan and hum that left you unchecked. Feeling you relax under his touch and sink further into the mattress made him relax, too.

“How do you feel?” Jensen whispered, not wanting to startle you or ruin your tranquil state as he sat back on the bed.

“I feel good, baby,” your voice was soft – lazy almost, as you turned over to lay on your back, biting your bottom lip when Jensen’s eyes went straight to your naked breasts. “See something you like?” you teased, giggling at his smirk.

“I do,” Jensen’s voice was deep with arousal, “so, can I interest you in a full body massage, or would you like a rain check?” Jensen was always a gentleman; you could see in his eyes (and sweatpants!) that he wanted you, but he knew you were exhausted and would never push you to go further.

“I think,” you smirked, “I want that full body.” It had been a month for both of you, but the excitement on his features made you laugh. “You’d think we never have sex with that look on your face!”

“Can’t a man miss his wife?” Jensen chuckled. “Miss her body because his hand just won’t cut it after a while?” he bit his lip and placed his hands on your chest, rubbing and caressing your breasts and down your torso. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of your simple cotton panties and pulled them down your legs.

Dropping them on the floor, he kneeled between your legs, gently pushing them up before pulling them apart, placing them on either side of his body and opening you up to him.

“Hmm,” he hummed, licking his lips at your glistening folds. “A month is far too long, baby girl. Never going that long without you or this pretty little pussy again,” Jensen murmured and lowered himself to your core, licking a long line up your slit.

You had missed this. Jensen’s tongue was unbelievably talented, never failing to make you come multiple times over hours when he was in the mood. Still, you knew tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights. Tonight, you’d fall apart embarrassingly quickly on his tongue, and then he’d be too desperate to tease you more.

Jensen slid a hand up your body, cupping your breast and grinned into your folds as he felt your body arch further into his touch. Your hand covered his and squeezed, forcing him to grip your breast harder. Taking the hint, he slid his other hand up your chest and began to play with both.

That was all that it took for you to fall over the edge. You grabbed Jensen’s hands from your chest and linked your fingers with his, moaning incoherent curses as your body convulsed through its climax.

“That’s m’girl,” Jensen murmured as he placed one last kiss to your centre before dragging his lips up the rest of your body, nipping and sucking along the way. His warm hands skimmed your body, and he hummed lowly at the softness of your skin, making you putty in his hands.

Jensen’s kisses finally reached your lips, and the combination of his soft lips and your taste on his tongue sent another wave of arousal shooting through your body. Your hands grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged at it viciously until he got the message and pulled it off. 

His eyes rolled as your nails gently raked over his lower back and around his stomach. You dipped your hand into his sweats, finding his erection and clasping your hand around it. The groan that rumbled from him was the sexiest thing you’d ever heard, making his desperation for you clear as day. He dipped his head and placed his lips to yours once more, the kiss slow and sweet at first, but as you began to pump your hand up and down his length, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened it. 

Jensen’s hand moved from your hip and skimmed up your torso. He gripped your breast and squeezed before trailing his fingers back down and settling between your legs. Running his thumb down your folds, he coated his thumb with your slick before expertly finding your clit and flicking the tiny bud.

“Good girl,” he mumbled, breaking the kiss as your legs automatically opened wider for him.

Jensen focused his lips and tongue on your breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a contented hum. You moaned loudly as your body arched up, forcing yourself into him further, the movement causing his thumb to press into your clit just a little bit harder and pushing you just a little bit closer to the edge.

Wanting more, you started to grind your hips into him, increasing the pressure of his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves. “That’s it, baby, take what you need,” Jensen growled as he trailed kisses up your chest, “tonight is all about you.” 

You continued to grind against his hand, tumbling straight into another climax the second his lips attached to your throat. Jensen held you closer, slowing the flick of his thumb and prolonging your high just a little without overstimulating you.

You shivered, suddenly feeling cold, as you returned to yourself and whined when you noticed Jensen standing at the edge of the bed. Chuckling, he pulled his sweatpants off and crawled back up your body.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he smiled, kissing the tip of your nose. “Are you ready?” he whispered while rutting himself through your folds, coating himself in your arousal.

“For you, always,” you smiled, but as he pushed his hips forward and entered you, your head fell back, and a low moan tore from your throat. With a growled string of curses, Jensen filled you to the brim and stilled.

“Fuck, Jensen!” you gasped.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, stroking your cheek, his brow furrowed in concern.

“I’m good. I missed this. I missed you,” you whimpered and wrapped your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him towards you and pecking at his lips. Slowly, Jensen pulled his hips back and thrust forward slowly and gently.

The lazy way that you made love was everything you needed and more. As you both succumbed to your climaxes, you knew that you’d always be safe in his arms and that he’d always take care of you the way you took care of everyone else.

Tags: @akshi8278 @ashbatz @candy-coated-misery0731 @chriszgirl92 @deans-baby-momma @deans-spinster-witch @deansbbyx @deanwanddamons @duncanhillscoffeecups @foxyjwls007 @giggles1026 @globetrotter28 @hobby27 @hoboal87 @impala67rollingthroughtown @iprobablyshipit91 @jackles010378 @jamerlynn @jc-winchester @k-slla @kazsrm67 @kmc1989 @lacilou @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @lyarr24 @maliburenee @michecolegate @mrsjenniferwinchester @nancymcl @negans-lucille-tblr @perpetualabsurdity @roseblue373 @sandlee44 @sexyvixen7 @snackles87 @spnwoman @stixnstripesworld @stoneyggirl2 @suckitands33 @synmorite @tristanrosspada-ackles @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @winchestergirl1720

[amazingmaeve]

A RELEASE

Queen Maeve x fem!reader

summary — working in a bar where supes go to calm their nerves and to blow off steam is kind of nerve racking. obviously saying no to a supe could go one of two ways: they either crawl back to whatever pathetic hole they came out of or they try to take advantage of you, but luckily using the threat of calling the media gets most of them to back off. but when queen maeve come to bar you are in for a ride.

warnings — smut (18+), alcohol, talks of sexual harassment, swearing, and some spoilers to season 3

word count — 4, 743

authors note — yayyyy! Yup another queen maeve fic, I just can’t stop writing her, she is amazing and I love her so much. Also happy pride I know it’s late but it’s here! also not proofread.

Queen Maeve masterlist | The Boys masterlist

You sigh as you walk through the door that leads into the bar. This bar was kind of like your own living hell, but with the paycheck and tips you got, you had decided to stay. The money was great and you didn’t need to worry about paying the bills and worrying how you were gonna find some food for the next week.

But working at Hypnosis (the bar you work in) has changed everything for you.

The Supes weren’t the best, some were nice and just wanted to get drinks and delve in their own self destruction. They didn’t do much; they just kept ordering drinks and you just kept serving them. Those weren’t the Supes you were worried about.

The Supes you were worried about were the ones who couldn’t take no for an answer, who thought just because they were a Supe meant that you would want to fuck them. That you were lucky to even be in their presence, that you should do whatever the fuck they want because their parents/guardians took them to Vought and had them drugged on Compound V.

Most of the time you wanted to roll your eyes and maybe knee some of them in the balls, but due to this being your job you just politely declined with the most fake smile you could plaster on.

Due to the extreme egos of some Supes that meant that you were bruising their own ego by saying no and sometimes tried to just rape you. You usually had some defense like, bringing up the media and calling them. If that didn’t work then you would try to get the attention of the bouncer (who was also a Supe), and he usually took care of them.

If some Supe had raped you, you probably couldn’t even do anything about it since the bar was owned by Vought and most of the Supes that came here worked for Vought. So if you did something you would probably end up in a grave being the worst case scenario, best case scenario you would probably be given some money and sent on your way, with all the trauma still with you.

But the most you got was groping, which just made you go home and wash your body as disgust washed all over you. You knew this job you had wasn’t going to stick forever and you would need to find a replacement job that might even be safer. But employment was a hard thing to find at the moment and for now this was just your normal.

Only a few members of The Seven had come to this bar and most of the time it was either The Deep and Translucent, who were both humongous creeps. A-Train came once and while but most of the time he would just be sitting off in a group basking in the glory of it all, and only occasionally flirting with you. Whilst The Deep and Translucent tried to have sex with you multiple times and it just ended with you just rolling your eyes and threatening to call the media, which made them sit back down and call you a bitch or a cunt because you wouldn’t sleep with them.

So you weren’t surprised to find out that The Deep had done what he did to Starlight.

One member of The Seven you were glad didn’t show up was Homelander. Something about him just seemed off to you, even before the whole sleeping with a Nazi thing. You knew if he came into this bar and he wanted to have sex with you, it was going to happen whether you wanted it or not. No one could stop him.

But lucky for you and every other waitress/bartender in this place, he hadn’t shown up at all.

Due to the scummy people that came to this bar has left you in no other words than horny. You couldn’t find a decent person to sleep with who didn’t try to assault you, or they were too much into themselves to even focus on your pleasure only focused on theirs.

To the surprise of no one the people you had slept with in the past month were guys and you hoped that at least one knew how to please a woman but nonetheless you were left a mess after each and every sexual endeavor.

You’d only had sex with two women in your life and those two were the ones you dated and even loved. But you couldn’t find a woman to sleep with due to you being too nervous to talk to women. It was kind of weird since you were outwardly confident to men but with women, they made your heart flutter that you’d think it would hop out of your chest and hop around. Even if it was a woman you just wanted to have sex with, you couldn’t gather the courage to go up and talk to them.

But you just dealt with the bad sex with the men in the bar and had to finish the job after they left (which wasn’t long).

So you had assumed that this time working in the bar would be the same exact way it goes every time you came to work. You get harassed and served drinks to them and other non harming Supes and maybe end up going home with one of them while you had to jerk off after they left since their head was too big and only focused on their own pleasure.

Walking into the bar, you started to serve the Supes with your fake smile plastered on your face and had idle chit chat with them. Some of them try to flirt with you but then end up being pulled away by other Supes. It wasn’t that busy tonight and you were glad since you were having a stressful day already and didn’t want any more.

Someone had sat on one of the barstools in front of you and you looked up in shock to see the one and only Queen Maeve sitting there with a tight smile on her face as if she’s been in this position before.

Now you knew who Queen Maeve was, I mean who didn’t know her. Anyone who said that were people probably living under a fucking rock. But you had loads of sympathy for her, since Homelander basically outed her on live television.

And you couldn't deny that she was an attractive woman.

You weren’t expecting one of The Seven to come in this bar (besides The Deep even though he was married and A-Train on a couple occasions) and you were shocked to say the least. Shaking off the shock you gave her a smile that mirrored hers getting ready to pour her a drink.

“What can I get you?” You questioned after clearing your throat, finally meeting her gaze.

“Just a whiskey please,” Maeve answered, giving you a once over, which you didn’t pick up on and nodded, going to get a glass and the bottle of whiskey.

Maeve hadn’t been to this bar even though she’s heard good things about it and it was only for Supes so it would be comfortable, but she usually did her self destruction in her own penthouse but after hearing A-Train rave about this place she had to check it out.

And hey if she could get away from Homelander it really didn’t matter.

But something about you made her stop in her tracks. It’s been a while since a woman has done that to her and that was Elena. She didn’t know what it was about you that made her like this, but maybe it’s just because you’re a beautiful woman.

But needless to say, you’ve caught her attention.

“Here you go,” You turn around saying and putting the glass of whiskey on the table and sliding it over to her. She mutters out a thanks before downing the whole thing.

“Another please,” Maeve requests, sliding the glass over to you and your eyebrows jump at that.

“Rough day,” You observe out loud pouring more whiskey into the glass and giving it to her again.

“Rough year,” Maeve corrects before taking a smaller sip of the whiskey before putting it down. “And even shitter day,” She says following it up.

“Definitely can relate to that,” You mutter. “You come with your teammate,” You question, pointing over to the direction where The Deep was hitting on one of your co-workers who looked mildly annoyed.

“Fuck no, wouldn’t follow that guy to the nicest bar in the city,” Maeve say with a little chuckle with a look of disgust on her face. She obviously didn’t like him that much and hey you couldn't really blame her, he definitely was an asshole. “Why does he come here often,” She asks, leaning forward a bit.

“Often is an understatement,” It’s your turn to chuckle now. “Yeah he’s married but it definitely doesn’t seem to turn him away,” You say with a hint of amusement in your tone.

“That’s not a shocker,” Maeve says, taking another drink of her whiskey. “So, how long have you been working here,” She questions.

“A few years, it’s definitely been a ride,” You say leaning against the bar, engaging in the conversation with her. Conversations with the customers was a usual thing and you were trying to tell yourself that it was just that. Talking to a customer to make them more comfortable, but deep down you knew it was something different. “I know it’s your first time here,” You say confidently.

“And how would you know that,” Maeve says with a smile, after finishing her drink and sliding it towards you. You took the hint and refilled it.

“Just a hunch, since the time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen you and none of my co-workers mentioned you, but hey I know some people like to keep it low key,” You explained.

“Well you would be correct, I’ve never been in this bar a day in my fucking life,” Maeve responds, tracing the rim of her glass, that had remained full. “But If I had known that someone as beautiful as you worked here, I would have shown up a hell of a lot sooner,” She sultry says, giving you a flirtatious smile.

You give her a look of surprise at the forward response and you can feel your heart start to race. She couldn’t be flirting with you, she was Queen fucking Maeve and you were just a non Supe bartender who was just trying to get by. You bit your lip and gave her a smile.

“That’s really sweet of you,” You blurt out and you're inwardly cringing at the response. Really was that all you could respond to. God this you were such a fucking loser.

“Trust me I can be a whole lot sweeter,” Maeve flirted before taking a drink of her whiskey.

You swallow, starting to feel your throat start to dry. God you didn’t even know how to respond to that and you let out a nervous chuckle at that.

“Uh I have to use the restroom, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” You say lying and scurrying off to the bathroom, where you rest your head on the cold wall.

You felt like your whole entire body was on fire and the whole conversation was replaying in your head and you suddenly felt like an idiot, you were already getting horny from a few sentences.

But you couldn’t help it. She was a very hot woman and you hadn’t had a decent orgasm with anyone in the past few months. The only time you had a release was with your own hand or a vibrator. You walked up to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to take deep breaths.

Turning on the sink you splashed some water onto your face, trying to cool off before you could return and even though you were nervous, you were also itching to get back to her and return to the conversation.

As you were trying to collect yourself the door opened and you turned around to see your co-worker standing there with a knowing smirk on her face.

“You’re being asked for,” Sophie says and you give her a confused look.

“What,” You question.

“Queen Maeve, I asked if she needed anything else besides the whiskey in her hand and she said you,” Sophie answers. “You seriously need to get out there before she starts to look for you herself,” She says, giving you a pat on your arm. “Now go out there and get lucky,” She whispers with a little laugh.

You laugh nervously before walking out of the bathroom and walking around the crowded people in the bar and finally made your way behind the bar and walked to Maeve who, to be honest, looked like she was bored out of her fucking mind.

“Heard you missed me,” You cooly say, as if your own heart didn't feel like it was about to explode.

“Well you’re the only thing in this bar that has my attention so it’s kinda hard not to,” Maeve responded with her own flirty comment.

“Need anything else, I can get some pretzels if you want some,” You ask, trying to shake off the horniness as if you weren’t already starting to get wet.

“Nope, no pretzels needed,” Maeve responds and puts her own hand on your arm, your breath hitched at that. She noticed and smirked. “When do you get off work,” She whispers the question leaning in closer to where your faces are inches apart.

“Uh, not for another hour,” You whispered, after looking at the clock.

Maeve groans. Just her luck. God she just needed you so fucking bad, and it wasn’t the need she had for the guys she fucked and kicked out of her room, you were different. She felt like she couldn’t wait to have you in any way that you wanted.

She moved her hand so that it was caressing your cheek and you felt heat travel up your neck to your cheeks, and it had to be obvious that she could feel it. She leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. Not wasting any time you move your lips along hers and her hand grabs your jaw and you moan into her mouth at the roughness. She slips her tongue inside your mouth and starts to explore the territory.

“I need you,” Maeve groans against your lips and starts to peck your lips. “So fucking bad,” She says in between pecks. If it weren’t the bar between the two of you, she’d start to train kisses down your neck, marking you. You held back a moan even though it was pretty loud.

Before you could say anything, you felt someone squeeze your shoulder and you turned your attention from Maeve to Sophie.

“Why don’t you just leave and I’ll take your shift,” Sophie says, giving you a look.

“Uh yeah,” You say as you feel Maeve's other hand move to your other cheek. “Let’s get out of here,” You say, turning around to Maeve who gave you a smirk.

Your back hits your door as Maeve trails kisses down your back and you let tiny moans that you tried to conceal, due to the fact that you weren’t even in your apartment yet. Maeve's hand moved to under your skirt and started to squeeze your thigh as you felt your panties start to get more and more drenched.

“Okay I need to unlock my door,” You say breathless as Maeve didn’t stop her sweet torture on your neck.

Before you could even try to unlock your door, Maeve moved one of her hands to the door and twisted it and opened the door herself. You looked at her in shock and you were gonna start to worry about how you were going to fix that until Maeve brought you into your living room and brought your lips to hers as her hands went to your shoulders.

You kiss her back, hard but definitely not as hard as her. You can feel her kisses maybe starting to bruise you. You felt like you were going to pass out due to the heat traveling all over your body.

“Where’s your bedroom,” Maeve questions in between kisses as she moves you around the apartment, accidents bumping into a chair and you let out a tiny laugh.

“Down the hall, to the left,” You muttered, wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her again.

She maneuvered you around the apartment, til she found the door knob and opened the door and moved you to your bed. You took your shirt off and your bra trying to get naked as fast as possible. You look up and you didn’t even know how Maeve got all of her armor but you couldn’t think fast as she fell on top of you and kissed you.

You were still left in your skirt but that didn’t stop Maeve as she pulled your panties and the skirt off. She moved her hand to your core as she gently slid her fingers through your folds and you moaned into her mouth as she kept kissing you.

Her hand found your clit and she started to draw figure eights on the swollen nub while you moved your hand to her naked thigh and caressed her inner thigh as you gave gentle squeezes, trying to tease her. She whined your name into your mouth and you gave in.

You moved your fingers across her core as her fingers went to a halt but you didn’t even care at the moment, at the moment you just wanted to make her feel good.

Slipping your fingers inside of her, you started to thrust them in slowly and moved your thumb to your clit as she started to pepper kisses alongside your cheek and your neck as she moaned and whimpered into your ear.

“God your fingers feel so fucking good,” She moaned into your ear as you started to move your fingers faster and cured them into the right spot and she jolted her hips so as she moaned your name loudly.

You started to grind up on her thigh as you felt yourself get more and more turned on. Whilst you kept thrust your fingers up into Maeve and on one particular thrust Maeve squeezed her eyes shut as moaned into your neck. She squeezed her hand around your thigh, that’ll probably leave bruises but in that moment the pain made you let out a moan.

Removing your fingers from her pussy and you brought your fingers to your lips and slipped them into your mouth, moaning at the taste of her.

Meanwhile Maeve recovered from the mind blowing orgasm and began to kiss up your neck and unwrapped her hand from your thigh and slowly slid it up your body, to your breast, where she started to gently massage. She moves her lips to your mouth and captures your lip in a hot kiss that makes you moan into her mouth as she uses her thumb to rub circles on your already hard nipple.

You move your hands around her neck and bury your hands in her hair as she moves her tongue inside your mouth exploring the territory that she's tasted not so long ago. You thread your fingers in her red hair as her hand went from your breast to your neck and wrapped her fingers around your throat.

She gave your throat a gentle squeeze. You felt another tingle shoot straight down to your core as you moaned into her mouth. You moved your hands from her hair to her hips and started to grind them up to her thigh, moaning as you dragged your clit up and down her thigh, you were surprised that you hadn’t already orgasmed due to the sexual tension you had coiled in your stomach.

“God you are so wet,” Maeve moaned into your mouth as she put both her hands on your hips and pressed them into the bed so that you couldn’t thrust up to her thigh.

“Oh come on I need something,” You whined out, deciding to stop trying to thrust up, because Maeve could literally stop a truck with her body, she can most certainly stop you from thrusting up.

“Calm down, don’t worry I’m gonna get you what you want,” Maeve smirked down at you, admiring your body as in this flustered state. “Just relax,” She cooed, before getting up and leaving you confused in a state of lust. “You have any handcuffs,” She questions, making your eyebrows jump at the question. She was looking around your darkened room.

“Uh maybe why do you ask,” You question, sitting up and closing your legs so you didn’t feel so exposed. Now you were no stranger to having sex toys, and things akin to that, you loved being tied down and loved tying people down. With that question she asked still in the air, you could feel your pussy throb at that, you needed something and you couldn’t wait to get it.

“Come on, I know you’re not that stupid,” Maeve teases, giving you a look. You smirk as you bite your lip as you stare at her.

“There’s some in this top drawer,” You give her answer, quietly as if it would disturb the tension in the air. Maeve traveled to the dressers on the left side of your bed. You give her a smile as she pulls out two pairs of handcuffs.

“Looks like you’ve been at this for a while,” Maeve smirks as she looks through the drawer, seeing all the toys inside.

“Come on, I thought you were just looking for the handcuffs,” You say trying to sound strong, but it comes off in a whine which makes Maeve chuckle. You couldn’t help it, you were thoroughly turned on.

“Gosh you sound like a fucking brat,” Maeve let’s out a little laugh as she sat there kneeled besides the bed. You give her a pout, giving her what she thought you were. “Although I think you are one,” Maeve groans as she stands up and you look up at her, excited for what’s gonna happen next.

“You got that right,” You say, batting your eyelashes up at her, as she moves onto the bed.

Maeve lays you down again as she sets the handcuffs to the side, you look up at her as she leans down to give you a deep kiss that makes you moan into her moan and try to reach up and wrap your arms around her. Although she doesn’t allow you to as she moves away from you making you whine again. God she was right you do sound like a brat.

“Don’t worry, like I said I’m gonna give you what you want,” Maeve says, lifting one of your hands and handcuffing it to the headboard and doing the same with the other hand. You shake your hands in the toy as if to show her that you can’t get out. You felt like you were going to explode with how wet you were.

Her hands glide down your body as her mouth leans down to bite at your neck and start to suck bruises. You moan out her name as she pinches your nipple in her right hand, you rub your thighs together trying to have some friction on your aching pussy.

She gives your lip a little bite as her head moves down lower to wrap her wet lips around your already sensitive and hard nipple, as strings of moans keep falling out of your mouth, that you might be worried that the neighbors might hear. But in this moment you don’t give a fuck, you just needed her.

Whilst her mouth was working on your nipple her hand decides to glide down your body to your throbbing core. She teases your folds as you bite your lip and moan, trying to keep you from screaming her name. Her fingers nudge your clit as you feel your whole entire body set on fire. You want to wrap your hands around her. The restrictions of your hands make you just wrap them around the handcuffs and squeeze them. You’re squirming on the bed as you're basically just a mess with her.

She looks up at you from where her head is, lips around your nipple and sucking on the hard bud.

“Maeve,” You moan as she moves her fingers lower to your entrance and then just thrusts them in hard making you jump a little. Whimpering as her fingers already find the precious spot that could make you see stars.

She shushes you, removing her mouth from your nipple. Then decides to decorate your body with hickeys littering all of your stomach as she continues to thrust your fingers up into your pussy, always stopping when she feels like you are going to come. Meanwhile you’re just moaning and groaning as she works her magic on you.

Sliding further down the bed she starts to suck the skin on your thighs and move from one leg to the other, making sure to give them the same amount of attention. You feel her start to move faster making you clench around her fingers as you whimper her name out for what felt like the millionth time. But as soon as she does that she stops and you slouch against the bed in frustration.

Even though you’re frustrated, you know this orgasm is going to be one of the best you ever had in your whole life.

“I bet you taste as amazing as you look,” Maeve mutters against your thigh, making you clench around her fingers and she chuckles silently.

In a swift motion, Maeve's mouth moves to your pussy and wraps her soft lips around your throbbing clit. You let out a loud moan as she starts to thrust her fingers again, hitting that same spot over and over again.

And there it is, you can feel the burn from the coiling tension inside your stomach. You were about to cum and it seems finally she was going to let you. Looking up at you through her eyelashes she runs her experienced tongue around your clit, lapping at it and then wrapping your clit in between her lips again and sucks harder.

Due to the constant, fingering of your g spot and her sucking on your clit and there it is. You arch your back off the bed and finally climax on her fingers. You moan her name loudly, probably loud enough that would wake the neighbors and you would be worried but with the shaking of your legs at the moment you don’t. Even though your eyes are squeezed shut, you can still see stars.

Maeve smiles as she sucks your cum off her fingers and slides up your body and presses her lips against yours, this time much softer than before. You hum into your mouth as you can still feel your legs twitch from the intense orgasm.

“The keys are in the drawer,” You murmur, still feeling hazy.

“No shit Sherlock,” Maeve rolls her eyes and gives your thighs a teasing slap. Which makes you jolt up. She rustles around to find them and then releases you from the toys.

You stretch and sit up as your hands and arms are finally free. You gasp in shock as Maeve brings you down with her arms, so that your head is resting on her chest. Her hands rub down your back in a soothing manner that makes you smile.

“You’re gonna have to stay the night at least, don’t want anyone breaking in with the door knob you broke,” You mutter as you feel your eyes droop from exhaustion.

“Don’t worry,” Maeve promises as she reaches for the blankets and pulls them around the both of you. “I’ll keep you safe and your door knob will be fixed by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well if you’re staying I wouldn’t be mad if you found some creative ways to wake me up,” You whisper out the tease making her squeeze your butt.

“Is that consent,” She questions with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Definitely.”

[sadlynotthevoid]

I'm not sure if I told you guys about the time I dreamed that 20ish Jason Todd died yet again and Death was pissed off because "really? Again? Wtf Batman. The universe doesn't keep reviving your son just so you can see how much he lasts!" And "He has a work to do you know?!". Besides, she's fond of the bright young soul.

So, she calls her uncle to help him. And what you know? Her uncle is the God of Death (because yes, my brain is like that sometimes). They sit to talk and come up with a solution.

First, taking advantage of the effects still present of the last time-space crisis and the spirits protecting the soul, they regress the time of this universe to when Jay had just left All Caste, way before he had came back to Gotham.

Then, Death places Red Hood!Jason's memories on the soul of his younger self. Not too harsh to force his soul to crack, but not too light to let them fall. Just deep enough so he finds them when he meditates.

And by last, God of Death tells the spirits where they should guide the boy to. The perfect place for him.

Where is the best place for a soul who craves for home and safety? Of course, that's with someone who has the heart to care and accept a new loved one and the determination to protect them.

That's how Jason Todd, teenage assassin in an existential crisis, ends up waking up in the softest bed he has ever been in some foreign country. At his side there's a redhead teen sitting in a sofa, a book in his hands and other boy— this one with black hair and pajamas— lying on his lap.

The redhead— Cale, as he presents himself— is mysterious but kind hearted guy. He also knows things. So much so that if he weren't as he is, Jason would suspect. As things are, he knows he's just used to collect information. A bit like a bat, but not quite. A bat would plan how to use it against the possible enemy. Cale? Well, he doesn't even bother to hide what he realized about him. He's also ridiculously casual about it.

Who offers an assassin if they want their hidden weapons back? This guy, apparently.

Jason only knows he's not totally unconscious because at one point an old guy entered with tea and pastries for the three and Cale, the little shit, choose that moment to reassure Jason.

"Don't worry. My butler is an assassin too and we don't treat him different for it."

The old geezer almost let got the porcelain teapot to the floor. Though, points for him for recovering so fast.

"Young master? May this Ron know who you would be talking about?"

"Hm? Who do you think? Hans? The only thing he can kill is Rok Soo's humor. It's you, obviously."

"..."

Rok Soo, the sleeping beauty complex guy pretending to be asleep on Cale's lap, was sweating badly. If everyone in the room weren't already aware he was clearly pretending, someone may had thought he was ill.

Later on, he realizes there was a reason Cale had said that at that moment.

He's looking at the butler subtly terrorize the boys to behave, treating the siblings like two particularly mischievous puppies. Then he turns around and uses the same tune to advise him to be careful with his wounds. And that's when he thinks 'Oh. He doesn't see me as a menace'.

Of course he doesn't. His employer just confirmed he's aware of his identity— at least partially— and his own nature. The biggest advantage of an assassin is their secrecy. After their identity is exposed, the only reason they won't attack is if the assassin believes the risk is worthy. Telling the assassin he knows he's an assassin was his way to show Jason's own intentions: none.

Jason didn't intend to end up in that field where these teens find him. He didn't intend to be brought in their vacation house. He definitely didn't plan that the people to found him passed out would be whoever these rich guys were.

But he didn't have anything against all of this either.

Well, maybe the wound. He could make it without the blood loose and the soon-to-be scar to add to his collection.

Either way, at least he had a safe place to stay and think. Just think. Because, the memories he saw— what is he supposed to do now that he has his answer?

His da— Bruce. Bruce didn't care for him as much as Jason does for Bruce. Bruce obviously didn't love him as he thought. And certainly, Bruce was way more willingly to harm him than he believed.

And Jason— well, Jason couldn't waste a second life on a man who didn't put hin even at the same level than the Joker of all people. But maybe his expectatives were too high? He hadn't planned what to do if his life was meaningless to him.

So, Jason needed time. Time to ponder and heal. Those things are better done in a safe place.

That's what Jason has in mind when Cale offers him to stay with them.

[ignoringmyexams]

Imagine oc is secretly a retired assassin, but moved to gotham to start anew as an investigative journalist looking into the corruption in the city. her employer calls in a favor from the red hood, and makes him watch over her. now imagine them falling in love as oc gets in to weird situations with villains trying to take her down, but she somehow always escapes, leaving behind no hint of what had happened. ofc she doesn't tell jason about any of her skills, so he is growing increasingly confused as she continues to escape from the situations he is trying to save her from, and the bats are constantly harassing him about random dead goons bodies turning up in the weirdest of places.

and then maybe imagine they move in together for her "protection" (its cuz jason just wants to be near her), and so she watches him go out on patrol and come home angry from arguing with bruce and covered in blood. hes secretly scared that she will get upset over the fact that he shoots people (he doesnt kill that much anymore, because he secretly wants to reunite with the bats), but she doesn't care (because shes been doing the same without him knowing)

aaaand then imagine jason gets taken down and kidnapped by the joker or some other supervillain, but the bats dont know and are struggling to find him (bruce has his head up his ass, and thinks that jason doesnt want to be a part of the family anymore, and cant see past his failure as a father), but oc reconnects with some of her old assassin contacts even though she doesn't want to be a part of that world anymore, and finds jason. and when she does, she doesn't just rescue him, but shoots the joker (because its time effective, she doesn't have the most amazing morals (and because she knows how it feels like to know their attacker basically is allowed to walk free, and doesn't want jason to feel that way anymore)), and jason is so amazed that anyone could care for him in that way that they finally kiss and are super cute and smexy and stuff.

aaaand then imagine that batman thinks that jason killed the joker (and is secretly scared that his son is having a mental breakdown, and becoming the joker himself (because again; stick up his ass)), but is too emotionally stunted to deal with it rationally, so he shows up to their apartment, ready to take him in, but finds only oc there (jasons gone to the grocery store to get ingredients for cake or something idk), and bruce has no idea why theres a woman in the apartment (because its a secret that shes being protected by him), and leaves very akwardly.

Later they find evidence that jason was not the person who killed the joker, and he is brought into the family again. and then jason introduces the woman bruce met in the apartment as his girlfriend, and everyone is very confused. alfred obv likes her very much. then damian meets her and ofc they know each other from the league, and everyone is amazed to find out that she is an assassin, and maybe it comes ut that she killed the joker, and bruce is over analyzing everything (because he must make things angsty all the time), but oc claims it happened in self defense, and everyone is still so so confused (because in my mind she isnt the typical looking assassin, i imagine her bonding with alfred over knitting), but she knows and jason knows (and damian, and probably alfred and tim aswell), that she can be a cold blooded killer if pressed, and jason is so so in love with her

can honestly see too that tim already knew of them, and damian too, who decides oc is his sister in law even before her and jason get together

and oc would be friends with vicki vale, with her being some sort of mentor for oc, because i imagine them both to be slightly insane when it comes to getting information and interviews (and from personal experience, these types of journalists either become insane besties, or mortal enemies)

relationship between oc and cass would also be intersting, as i can see oc maybe being trained under cass father? or lady shiva? and her+jason+damian+cass understanding eachothers traumas

and i feel like oc and steph would share the same slightly insane energy

idk ive had this stuck in my brain for so long now, also i havent read or interacted a single piece of canon i fear, so everything i know about the dcu is though fics hhih be kind plz

[saltymongoose]

Hi coming in with another silly idea Imagine that the Player is in early Nevada, and around the time Nexus is supposed to fall they fall into a type of coma. Jeb goes through with his plan (painfully without the player by his side), Hofnarr turns into Tricky with his last thoughts begging for the Player to come back. Phobos' fight being much more easy due to the fact he thinks his god abandoned him. Then the Player comes back like "hey sorry about that" and Jeb starts wailing while Tricky goes YIPPEE and runs around them like an excited dog.

Why is everything you draw so cute omg 😭, everyone is so adorable here. It's honestly a little weird to see the Employers look so huggable, I love it.

To actually get into the scenario though, my thoughts on this are far too long to make it into a normal ask response, so you're getting some sort of unofficial hcs instead lol. Enjoy!

<The Player Falls into a Coma before the Fall> ft. Jebus, Hofnarr/Tricky, the Employers & Phobos

(TW: Yandere)

There was no warning for your sudden coma whatsoever. At most, you felt a tad more exhausted than usual at the end of the day, but this can be attributed to many different things, so of course you wouldn't worry about it. Neither would anyone else either, for that matter.

You had absolutely no idea that when you slowly fell asleep that night, you wouldn't be waking up again for a very long time.

It certainly wouldn’t take long for those you know to find out about your condition either. For one, Hofnarr and Jeb would want to recap their plan with you before going through with it, so naturally they stopped by for that. However, they find you unconscious and completely unresponsive to their every attempt to wake you. To make matters worse, there isn't a sign that you'd been awake at all in the past few days; the buildup of dust on your furniture and the letters in your mailbox shows as much.

Despite their worry, they’d eventually have to leave your side, if only to get more medical supplies and other things to help you. This opens up a window for the others in your life to finally take action, those being the Employers.

The shadowy figures had been keeping tabs on you all the time, so when you just didn't wake up, they would probably be the first to know - even if their actions came second to the Nexus Scientist's.

(You didn’t send the Deliberator a “good morning” text and he started panicking. What could possibly be so bad that you didn't speak to him? A cursory call to the worried AAHW agents the Auditor had sent to tail you was proof enough that you'd deviated from your usual schedule, and you weren't the type to ever be late.)

They were quick to take you from your home and to a more secret place, so that they could keep close observation over you.

Honestly, despite how much the Employers might brag about knowing you better than anyone else (a privilege they gained from being the first to realize your existence), they truly know little about your anatomy. However, they can tell that sleeping for full days isn't normal at all, judging by your previous behavior.

They're also far too stubborn to ask any other mortals for help as well, so they simply resigned to try to help you themselves while keeping you safe with them. They couldn't do much else, so hopefully you'd understand that once you awoke in a strange place.

Nevada rots without your guidance and the grunts you were close to were left reeling by this (unintentional) abandonment you committed.

Phobos loses much of his drive due to his own emotional frailty as he grappled with his uncharacteristic self-doubt and questioning. As it happens, this also makes him more zealous as well. In his last moments, he has a second wind, believing that if he just fights hard enough, you might decide to come back and help him in his battle against Christoff. (But you don't. You couldn't.)

Jebus' feelings are surprisingly parallel to the Director's in terms of worship and near zealotry. Except, he believes it might be his fault that you left, which only increases the fervor he has to complete his plans. It will be painful without you there, but this agony is his repentance for the sins which he has wronged you with. It is only through this that he believes you might show your presence once more, even if it’s not now.

Unfortunately, Hofnarr's transformation into Tricky was just as painful as it would be otherwise, and the pain of abandonment just makes it worse. Funny, how the pictures taken of you with him and Christoff were miraculously unscathed within Hofnarr's lab even after Tricky came to be. The zombified clown must have found some value in them, even if he couldn’t remember the complete reason why he felt so warm when he looked at them.

Of course, you did actually awaken eventually. You had no idea how much time had passed when you woke up, so seeing the Employers look so uncharacteristically worried when you woke up was really odd. You honestly think they’d be weepy if they had the ability to cry.

You really didn’t know how to react to the news that you’d essentially been in a coma for thirty years. Your first course of action is to find Jeb and Tricky to find out what actually happened since you feared your early appearance might’ve had an impact on the timeline regarding Nevada’s fall. This leads to very different reactions.

Jeb isn't one to typically show much vulnerability, but seeing you again completely shatters those walls he's kept up for so long. At first, he thinks you're just a hallucination; the culmination of all the longing he has for you finally taking its toll on his broken mind as almost a cruel joke. 

The first words he speaks to you after thirty years is a short, "You're not real", said as more of an insistence to himself than anything. But when he comes closer and you don’t disappear, and he reaches out a trembling hand to rest lightly on your shoulder, and you stay, he just breaks. The warmth of your form washes over him like it used to, and suddenly he feels an uncomfortable tightness well up in his throat as tears gather in his eyes.

You reach up to hold his taller form closer to you, sinking to the ground with him as he buries his face into your neck and sobs. His hold on you is soft, and his hands are still shaky; he's holding you like he's scared of shattering you, and he only gets weaker when you whisper soothing words and apologies to him.

Compared to Jebus, your meeting with Tricky was a lot more upbeat. It’s probably because he was spared much of the reflection and sorrow that Jeb went through due to his rather unstable mental state, but that didn’t stop him from somehow recognizing you. It’s almost like a switch flipped in his mind, and he went from violently slamming his sign into some poor grunt's face to freezing at the sight of your face.

He then tosses the sign away and almost launches himself at you to envelop you in a tight bear hug, screaming excitedly while you grin back rather tiredly. (You hope your eardrums will be okay after this.) But in the next second, he's whirling away from you, flailing his hands as he continues to talk.

It’s like being greeted by your dog after being away for months; he never stops moving or asking hurried questions about where you’ve been, intermittent with little words about how much he’s missed you.

Both Jeb and Tricky are very clingy after this. Even if they don't get along now, they're not willing to let you leave their sides after this, especially not when you go to sleep. (What if you fall into a coma again? Someone has to be there to take care of you.)

Deep down, they also have a striking suspicion that someone was behind your coma. They didn't know who exactly, but there was no other explanation to them than this. How else would you, Nevada's most powerful being, fall into such a state?

(In the near future, when you come across Hank and the others, let's just say that your scientists won't be deterred from leaving your side quite so easily. You'd been gone for thirty years, so you should only expect their companionship to remain more permanent for the coming years.)

[williamkisser]

Franziska Kurz - The Maid; her lore

Finally a lore drop YAAYAYAYA. I’ll probably be updating this post from time to time as i’d like this to be some kind of a masterlist.

🧹 Name: Franziska Kurz

🧹 Career: maid

🧹 Gender: female - mtf

🧹 Faction: survivor

🧹 Item: none

🧹 Role: assist - contain

🧹 Hunter switch: none

🧹 Difficulty: 1.5/3

🧹 Birthday: June 2nd

🧹 Nameday: March 9th

🧹 Age: 20

🧹 Height: 171cm

🧹 Nationality: Polish

🧹 Ethnicity: slavic

🧹 Social class: working class

🧹 Faith: protestant

🧹 Voice claim: Pola Negri - x

🧹 MBTI: INFP

🧹 Favourite dish: angel wings

🧹 Traits: paranoid, perfectionism, insecurity, humbleness, freedom-loving, judgemental

🧹 Talent: housekeeping

🧹 Likes: going on walks, showing affection

🧹 Dislikes: self centered, obnoxious people, cipher machines

🧹 Interests: literature

🧹 Associated character: Kurt Frank, Montague - @hauntted-idv oc

🧹 Character EP: Drunk by Kylie Minogue - x

My take on who would she get along with

PRE MANOR

Lore: Franziska, a girl raised at an ordinary province was born on the grounds of Poland annexed by the Kingdom of Prussia. Like many other people, she felt like helping out on the field and in the barn was far from her calling, therefore, she hired herself at the most common occupation for poor women at the time - a Maid. It was a very unrewarding job. They barely could find any free time and often worked hard all week with very little pay. Franziska, that wasn’t yet aware of her gender identity quickly realized that this place is not good for her either, and the owners of the mansion she worked in didn’t treat their servants with respect, not even knowing their names. Together with other male servants, she often had to engage in tough physical jobs. Unconsciously, she would often daydream while gazing at the female workers skirts and beautiful hair coverings, which shortly after made her realize she feels more like a woman. Her stay at the rich house took a serious toll on her mental health - resulting in her burning down the place and running away with a traditional dress she stole from the owner’s daughter - leaving the then-rich family without a bright future.

AT OLETUS MANOR

Lore: Shortly after the accident, Franziska fled to England on a ship, where she began working for rich home owners. Her employer was a German man, which made the task more easy as she knew the language. His family was much more nicer than the previous one. Despite her pay being still very low, the owner’s wife started paying for her English tutor, which would help her a lot. After some time, she received a letter from the infamous Oletus Manor, inviting her to the crew: and promising a big pay that would let her find a better job. Franziska took the risk, but little did she know her task was going to be much more than just becoming a part of the crew.

Personality: Due to her difficult past, Franziska developed many unhealthy behaviours. First of all, she’s extremely paranoid nearly on the verge of schizophrenia. The feeling of guilt makes her think that she’s being followed. She can’t stand dirty places, she is a perfectionist that could clean one little spot for several minutes. Many people may consider Franziska not unapproachable, judging by her mean face expression, she is however extremely friendly and loves talking. She can judge someone easily as well - she’s prejudiced towards people of higher status - often without reason. During her free time she discovered her passion for literature, amazing, engaging stories. She wasn’t the best at reading but she would work on it. She formed a strong bond with Kurt through his stories, eventually becoming lovers.

This is lowkey half assed and i feel cringe posting this but whatever yall…i am cringe but free………i’m sure my goober would like to interact with other ocs……..

Pleek ignore the fact that this is anne’s model i happen to be very bad at drawing😔

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 17

The Valeyard told the Sixth Doctor that his Seventh incarnation was full of schemes in order to play a game that was never his to win and that his Eighth would never shake the shadow of death.

When separated from the TARDIS, the Doctor's memory usually begins to fail him.

Agatha Christie was a companion of the Eighth Doctor.

Tania Bell was placed in 107 Baker Street by Torchwood, her employer, to keep an eye out for the Doctor.

Rose was once turned into a vampire. She attacked the Ninth Doctor.

When the Eighth Doctor lies to his friends, it's obvious he's doing so because he gets a "terrified and guilty" expression on his face.

Handrel once said a single incarnation of a Time Lord can live for 10,000 years.

The Eighth Doctor once appeared on and won a television show called You Either Know It or You Don't.

The Curator likes pigeons.

The Seventh Doctor is sometimes terrified of the Third Doctor, particularly by the realization that the Leader of the British Republic in the Inferno universe is his counterpart.

In the Seventh Doctor’s mind, the First Doctor plays the role of the librarian and the keeper of the gardens. The Fourth Doctor is the ferryman. The Fifth Doctor represents the Doctor's conscience, but he is enchained in a pit in their mind. Ace eventually frees him though. He thoroughly locked the Sixth Doctor away due to Valeyard-related drama.

The Seventh Doctor manipulated Mel into leaving. This would allow him to go on as Time's Champion without her morality interfering.

Before Logopolis, the Fourth Doctor passed through a period of dense time, causing him to age rapidly. Even after restored, he remained greatly weakened and was unsure of if he would be able to regenerate. Because of this, Milady put in a request to the Department of Watchers to help him prepare for that regeneration. This weakness could potentially also explain why the Fourth Doctor regenerated after falling a shorter distance than the Tenth Doctor did when he jumped out of a spaceship.

The Fifth Doctor could "swim" through the time vortex.

K9 Mark I could not climb stairs, but K9 Mark II could.

The First Doctor helped design the Privy Gardens.

The Doctor speaks fluent dolphin.

The Master has been recorded to have 470 known incarnations in total.

The Master's personality has always been influenced by the Assemblage, an organic computer made by all those incarnations.

The First Doctor likely made Susan's wedding ring, having planned to get gold for it from Aristea.

The Fifth Doctor eventually realized he had mistreated Adric because the boy reminded him of his own self as a child, but this realization came after Adric was already gone.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[eisforeidolon]

Destiel has definitely soured my opinion on Misha especially since he continues to feed into it. It would not be so bad if he didn't make everything so sexual in relation to this ship. It seems like out of the entire cast Jensen is definitely the one who is sexualized the most and destiel fans continue to act like that is ok because JA and Misha are friends. Not one of them care how Jensen might feel if he knew they look at him at this sexual fantasy to make their ship cannon. These people are not his fans no matter how much they like to claim they are. The ship only bothers me because the fans seem unhinged. Maybe if they shipped for fun instead of trying to make a statement that none of them even believe in other fans would take them more seriously.

Yeah, the hellers have annoyed me from the start, even way back when I shipped D/C in fandom over their disregard for other fans, the show, the actors, and basically anyone who didn't see their ship as an important cause/inevitable canon rather than just a fanon ship. But there also just came a point where I could no longer give Misha the benefit of the doubt either. Not because he's talking about shipping, or even specifically a non-canon ship? That could be fine! It's because of the specific way he talks about it and how a certain loud, batshit part of the fandom reacts to what he says.

Hellers want to pretend, despite everything Jensen has consistently said over the years about not wanting to talk about shipping in general and specifically not seeing D/C as any part of his character's canon story? That it's no big deal to keep dragging him into it. Actually, he's really into D/C and RPF of him and Misha - or it's at least a-okay because they're friends!

We'll ignore the part of that which is obviously deluded self-serving fetishistic bullshit. But it also pointedly ignores that there is a world of difference between joking with someone versus making someone the butt of your jokes. Especially regarding a subject you know they want no part of. Especially when you so specifically do it where they aren't present or active. The way he talks about the ship frequently treats Jensen and/or Dean like a subservient sexual object. It's often pointedly about laughably trying to make himself sound dominant. It's often pointedly crass and vulgar. It's often dishonestly contradictory to what Jensen and others have publicly said about the ship. They want to pretend like it's friendly banter/ribbing between him and Jensen, but it clearly isn't. It doesn't have the right tone, context, or level of interaction for that. It's him performing to his audience at Jensen's (and the show's) expense. As I've said many a time in regards to Misha, with friends like that ...

The thing is, both sides of that coin are about treating Jensen like a blow up doll. Any opinion or feelings he has don't matter, he's just a vehicle to project onto in the hopes it will get them what they want. In the fanatic shippers' case, the ship made canon. In Misha's case, continued money and attention. Funny how right when he needs to re-open Cameo for extra funds, this is how Grifter McQueerbait spent a J2-less con, huh?

Which is why Misha gets no benefit of the doubt from me. He doesn't care about his supposed friend getting called a homophobe for not playing along. He doesn't care about any of his other coworkers or the network who were very good to him getting similar blowback accusations from his lies and sly imprecations. He sure as hell doesn't care about his fans as he keeps setting them up to be disappointed over and over and over again. Hell, he doesn't even care enough about any of it to be consistent from con to con, because he changes his story according to his mood and whoever else is on stage.

Hey, if he keeps getting money and attention for it and someone else always faces the consequences, why change? Friendship? Integrity? Being gainfully employable? Pfft. Who needs it! There's $$$ to be made right now, baby! So I also just think he's a fucking idiot. Although I'll give him this, I didn't think even the hellers were daft enough to keep signing up to be fleeced this transparently with the same recycled material 3+ years post-show.

[emilyjunk]

i won’t stop until you give me what i want!!! (bishova fics)

you taunt meeee. but fine, here is a snippet of something for you

So. Valentina has her fingers in multiple pies. It is not a surprise, really. Yelena expected this, to be fair. 

What she did not expect was to be dragged into it all. She had no intention of working with any form of government agency again. She had been there. Done that. No thanks and fuck off, also. 

And yet – 

It had happened all the same.

These Thunderbolts – Stupid. Stupid name. All these groups so full of self-important posers – are maybe not the worst waste of time she could imagine. At least they have no misguided ideas about what and who they are. Natasha may have been pulled in by some illusion of moral high ground preached by the Avengers, but Yelena lives under no such delusions. 

To her credit, Valentina is not so naive, either. There are no good guys; just bad guys and then worse guys. Not so black and white. This, at least, is a familiar thought, one that pokes uncertainly at uncomfortable memories of Melina smiling at her over home-cooked American meals and Christmas lights and blood twinkling against a frozen slab of ice.

It’s a consistent paycheck, anyway. 

Fanny’s food will not pay for itself.

//

So, she joins up. It is not a big deal, mostly, because the rest are like her. Independent, mistrusting, not quite convinced. 

Except of course, Alexei, who is thriving.

If she did not suspect Melina would secretly miss him, Yelena might murder the Red Guardian herself one of these days. It would certainly bring some peace and quiet to their Quinjet, not to mention a better aroma. But like it or not, painful history or not, he is still her daddy in the only way that has ever mattered, so she doesn’t.

So annoying.

//

Still, that does not mean she likes Valentina. She trusts her about as far as she can throw her, which, she will give herself, is further than the average person could throw her, but still not very far.

Which is perhaps why she is not altogether surprised when it all goes, as she heard Kate Bishop say one time, tits up.

She’s sitting on a bench in Central Park, enjoying the crisp November air while she works on a personal project, Fanny at her feet panting happily, when she feels the presence at her shoulder. 

Without turning, she says, “Hello, Agent Hill.”

The woman shifts into her line of vision, looking down at her with a nearly unreadable expression, except for the slight twitch at the corner of her lip. “Ms. Belova. Observant as ever.”

Yelena shrugs. “Your lotion is very distinctive.”

“Is it? Maybe I should try something new.”

“Eh. I would not worry about it. It smells quite nice.”

Hill looks at her for another moment, then gestures to the bench beside her. “May I?” 

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. “It is public park, yes?”

“Hm,” Hill agrees, then settles next to Yelena on the bench. Fanny nudges her knee with her nose, sniffing, and Hill holds the back of her hand out for inspection. At no sign of aggression from Fanny, Hill drags a leather-gloved palm over her head and scratches at her ears.

“So,” Yelena says. “To what do I owe this rendezvous? I hope you are not here to sell me on the Avengers again. I am unfortunately spoken for at the moment and I would not want you to waste your time. I am sure it is very valuable.”

Hill makes a noise, somewhere between a hum and a huff. “Yes, I’ve heard your new employment opportunity is keeping you busy.”

“It pays the bills.”

“I suppose that’s all you can ask for in a job these days.”

“Very true. And I have… what is it called? Ah. 401k. Smart, right? I hope you are investing in your retirement, Agent Hill. You cannot work for super-shady organization forever, huh? Bad for your health.”

Agent Hill says nothing to that, just stares across the wilting autumn-touched greenery of the lawn sprawling before them. Her gaze lingers on a red-headed woman spread across a blanket, hips up in the air as she completes a morning ritual of yoga and mindfulness, apparently at peace.

“Hard to imagine she's spearheading a coup.”

Yelena tilts her head. “She will not get her hands dirty.”

“I suppose not,” Hill agrees, then sighs, her tone edging against something slightly sharper and much too understanding for Yelena's liking. “She doesn’t need your help. You should know she is doing quite well for herself.”

They are of course not talking about the redheaded coup inciter anymore. “I am aware,” Yelena says dryly. 

“So why the interference?”

“Agent Hill, you are so forward,” she teases, even knowing it won't work. “I apologize to ask about your retirement finances, but you do not have to retaliate by getting into my business. It's very rude.” Hill glances her direction, eyes amused even if the apathetic tilt of her mouth remains the same. Yelena sighs, relenting slightly for the sake of decorum. “It is a personal curiosity.”

“I see.”

“You will do nothing with this information.”

“Of course not.”

Yelena narrows her eyes. “Something tells me this is not why you are here.”

“No.” Hill reaches a gloved hand in her pocket. When it reemerges, she extends a picture out. Yelena takes it. “This man is John Campbell.”

“John Campbell,” Yelena repeats, tongue sucking against the back of her teeth as she takes in a middle-aged white man, remarkable in absolutely zero ways except for a very full head of silver hair. “How American.”

A noncommittal sound leaves Hill's lips. “Unfortunately.”

Yelena resists the instinct to raise her eyebrows. “I did not take you for the unpatriotic type, Agent Hill.” She studies the picture again. “What is his business?”

“Software engineering,” Hill answers, purposefully vague to be sure. At the lack of response from Yelena, Hill continues. “I believe he is in bed with your employer.”

Yelena’s eyes flicker to Hill, then back to the picture. “I have not heard of this.”

“I presumed as much.”

“Unfortunate that you would also not assume I would have no interest in this. I do not pretend to have loyalty to the Contessa, but it is not my responsibility if your organization has objections to her business dealings. I have my own motivations. I do not aim to waste your time by making you think differently.”

Hill doesn't nod, just lifts her chin slightly as she continues to watch as their redheaded mark crosses her legs and settles into a relaxed meditation pose, spine straight. Yelena sees the agreement for what it is, the tightness in Hill’s eyes suggesting she already expected as much.

“That is not your objection with this man,” Yelena surmises.

“No.” Hill twists her lips. “Call it a personal curiosity.”

Intriguing. “You are invested.”

“I feel a responsibility.”

“In what way?”

Hill mulls over her words for a moment, and when they finally slip past her lips, they do so with a measured carefulness that suggests something deeply personal. “I believe Agent Romanoff would have insisted on her involvement.”

Yelena blinks. Grapples with the reactive tightening of her lips, the twisting of her lungs. “Is that so?”

“The intel suggests Campbell has had a major hand in developing software that can access the basal ganglia through the optic nerve.” Hill finally looks at her. “It would allow for certain control and manipulation. Of a kind with which I believe you are familiar.”

It takes everything in Yelena not to shudder, her body instead turning to stone as ice slides up her spine and tickles her neck. She pauses, as briefly as she can manage. Forces her voice out evenly. “I do not see how this concerns me.”

“No?”

“No.” She fumbles with the edge of her grip, teeth gritted and voice tight. “I am not Natasha.”

“No,” Hill agrees after a long moment. “I suppose not.” She sighs, taking the picture from Yelena's fingers. “Well. If you change your mind, I'm sure you can figure out how to reach me.” 

“I would not hold my breath.”

“Fair enough.” Hill finally pushes up from the bench. “Agent Bishop is tailing your mark's contact currently. He's stopped for coffee around the corner. They'll be here shortly for the drop, give or take two minutes.” Hill considers her with raised eyebrows. “Perhaps you've underestimated her.”

Yelena raises her eyebrows right back. “I have not. But thank you for your input, Agent Hill. It was nice to,” she twists her lips in purposeful politeness, “catch up.”

Hill hums, gives Fanny a last pat on the head, then retreats the way she came.

Yelena allows herself a brief moment to sit there and grind her teeth. Just as she's pulled herself back together, a man in sweatpants and a hoodie casually jogs up to the redheaded woman. They jovially clasp hands under the pretense of running into each other.

Across the lawn, a familiar figure nonchalantly strides around the paved sidewalk perimeter of the grass, one hand in the pockets of a long, gray-and-black checkered coat, the other wrapped around the leash of a fluffy one-eyed golden retriever. Her eyes flicker across the grass, over the pair of athleisure-wear clad friends and beyond, but by the time they alight on the bench across the way, Yelena is already gone.