#is that something anyone would want? no? cool!

[mokulule]

Dead on MAYn - Day 2

Trope | Identity Shenanigans Word | Hoodwinked Situation | Danny works at the Watchtower & meets Red Hood there. Dialogue | "Cool glowing swords, mind if I borrow them for a minute?"

Summary: There's something on the Watchtower posing as a human and Jason is the only one who knows.

It had been just a little hacking, a little bit of information retrieval, not like Red Hood was doing terrible crimes on the Watchtower. Still, he’d rather be in and out without anyone the wiser. He could only loop the cameras for so long without anyone noticing.

Could Jason have just asked for this information?

Sure. But that would require actually talking to Bruce, and since that was scheduled for… preferably never, this was the next best option. Of course the potential for actually getting sent to jail as the wanted criminal that he was, if he was caught, was a definite drawback to this plan. It would set back his timeline a day or two while he escaped and he really couldn’t afford that.

Of course no reason to count your chickens until they hatched, and unless they hatched Wonder Woman, Jason was reasonably sure he could still avoid capture by most of the other super friends.

Footsteps were approaching from further ahead the bending hallway. Quickly Jason looked around and finding no other choice he squeezed into the space between two vertical pipes in an open service hallway. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when some obscure blue and yellow costumed hero walked by without even glancing towards the open service hallway.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.”

Jason jumped, turned around, and grabbed the suddenly appeared person by covering his mouth then he pushed him against the wall with the other arm across his chest. Where the fuck did he come from?! As Jason waited for his heart to migrate back into his chest from his throat, he noted the guy’s blue coveralls and tool belt and at least knew what the guy was doing in the open service hallway.

Jason was an idiot he should have expected someone to be in here, why else would it be open?

Odd, Jason thought, there was a complete lack of struggle. The man just watched Jason with calm eyes from over Jason’s gloved hand. It was that more than anything, because he didn’t look like someone who would scream, that made Jason readily remove his hand when the guy reached up to pull it away.

“At least buy a guy dinner first, Red,” he smirked and leaned his head back casually, drawing attention to the line of his throat and the dib between his collar bones, visible because the coveralls were slightly unzipped.

It took a moment for Jason to comprehend the words and what direction his thoughts had been going, then he let go as if burned, taking a step away.

Smiling in satisfaction the guy straightened his coveralls and took a step away from the wall.

“So whose side are you on these days, Red? Do I need to sound the alarm?”

Jason narrowed his eyes from beneath the helmet. What was up with this guy? Somehow, inexplicably, it felt best not to lie. “My own side.”

“Hmmm,” the guy seemed to consider for a moment then finally nodded. “Very well, follow me.”

He started walking further down the service hall. After a few steps he turned his head slightly. “Are you coming?”

Jason hesitated. All sorts of alarm bells were ringing in his head, but still he found his feet moving forward into what felt like the bowels of the space station. He felt at once disconnected and grounded in every doomed step. The low orange lights that lit their twisting mechanical path in regular intervals and their shadows dancing as if alive across pipes, cables and consoles didn’t help the feeling that Jason was being led to the underworld.

There had been a number of branches in the path, places where Jason could have taken the chance to run, but hadn’t.

It was stupid following an unknown, every ounce of his training rebelled, because it was sure to be a trap. But there was something in Jason, something primal, that felt absolutely terrified of pissing of whatever the fuck that maintenance worker actually was behind the too sharp smile. A smile that was flashed at him every now and then when he checked whether Red Hood was still following.

They went down two ladders and squeezed through some pipes before finally they seemed to have reached their destination. The being knelt down and opened a previously unseen hatch in the floor letting in the artificial sunlight the main areas used like a beam in the darkness. Jason half expected the being to dissolve in the light, but he was not so lucky. Dread squeezed Jason’s heart when he stuck his head down into the room and then seemingly waved to someone below.

This was the moment the trap would spring.

Time stretched until finally the being straightened with a too wide grin lit from underneath.

“Alright coast is clear time for you to go.”

“What?” Jason asked weakly.

“In you go, this is the Zeta Bay.” He explained patiently.

“You’re letting me go?” At this point Jason wasn’t sure if he’d expected to be handed over to the Justice League or eaten. At this point it didn’t matter.

“Mmmhmm,” he hummed agreeably, “now get a move on, I’ve got work to do.”

Right, Jason thought weakly. He stuck his head down and confirmed this was indeed the Zeta Bay. He hurried down what was apparently a ceiling panel. He was just about to take a step towards one of the zeta tubes when the voice halted him.

“Though, Red-”

Jason’s breath hitched when he looked up to see two glowing green Lazarus eyes staring back at him from within the darkness.

“-don’t let me catch you uninvited here again.”

And that was Jason’s cue to skedaddle. He was never setting foot on the fucking Watchtower again.

Oo o oO
 Six months later Jason was on the fucking Watchtower again.

He stepped out of the Zeta Tube with dread curling in his stomach. He did not sign up for this.

So he was vaguely aware of how “all bats on deck” had started to include the Red Hood. He’d been there. He’d been part of the whole process: the arguments, the concessions, the tearful confessions and father-son moments which he tried his best to ignore happened, but they were… good? Things were overall semi-okay.

But the part where his brain hit a bit of a snag, was when all bats on deck meant Red Hood (still very wanted criminal) on the Watchtower deck.

So what if there was an alien invasion? Red Hood could protect Gotham from Gotham if aliens decided to try their luck. What part of micromanaging Crime Alley screamed world saving to Bruce? In fact it would have been better if he’d stayed back, because surely some assholes (Jason could think of at least three) would take advantage of the distraction of an alien invasion and move in on Crime Alley.

Yet, here Red Hood was, on the Watchtower, gaining odd looks even amongst the hurrying heroes as they passed them. In fact it was probably only Red Robin’s presence by his side that prevented him from being accosted - because he was, as previously established, a wanted criminal, one with a rather bloody and explosive reputation to boot.

You would think putting the guy known for blowing shit up onto your very expensive space station would be a bad call.

But no, Bruce trusted him. Not only that, he trusted him to watch Tim’s back and Jason hated how choked up that made him feel. So he was doing it, okay? Bruce better fucking appreciate it.

He cautiously scanned his surroundings, as he followed Tim, watchful for any heroes that might consider Red Hood more of a threat than the ongoing invasion and more importantly signs of certain maintenance workers from the abyss.

Of course Jason’s luck wasn’t to last. Just before the door into the Watchtower command central he was there, innocently perched on a ladder with a light panel open above him, seemingly changing an actual lightbulb - as if he was just some guy working there. And sure in the light he looked harmless in the light blue coveralls with the top part tied around his waist revealing a black t-shirt that hung a bit loose on his slight build. He looked deceptively human with the tousled black hair and the little smudge of oil across his nose, but the way his gaze zeroed in on Jason like a predator smelling blood was anything but.

Surreptitiously Jason moved so Tim was between him and the thing.

“So what’s that guy’s deal?”

“Who?” Red Robin glanced at Red Hood before following his line of sight. “Danny?”

Danny… what a deceptively ordinary name. He supposed that was fitting for something posing as human.

Tim looked at him with an absolutely bewildered look on his face and told him lowly. “Danny has worked in maintenance for a couple of years. He has a degree in mechanical engineering, honestly he might be a bit overqualified. Why are you asking? You can’t be surprised we employ maintenance workers.” He narrowed his eyes.

‘Danny’ met Jason’s eyes from over Tim’s head. He smiled and winked at Jason sending a chill down his spine, before turning back around to close the now functioning light panel. Jason mentally shook himself out of it.

“Just wondering with the invasion and all, why there’s a civilian on the Watchtower,” he covered smoothly, but not smoothly enough by the way Tim kept glancing at him. He swiped the door panel and they entered the control room.

“All the maintenance workers carry stun guns and know how to use them. There’s also panic rooms and escape pods available.”

The doors closed behind them and Jason breathed a quiet sigh of relief to have the metal between him and Danny.

Now maybe they could get to work stopping this invasion so Jason could get back to Gotham, and most importantly off of this stupid space station.

Oo o oO

Jason did his best to stay off the Watchtower, he really did, but events conspired against him. He couldn’t even share his concerns because everyone else was convinced Danny was a completely ordinary and nice guy - even Bruce, mr Paranoid himself. Yes, Jason had checked the personnel files, even the locked ones: Danny was listed as human, born to human parents. No meta gene. Everything perfectly ordinary in a way that set Jason’s teeth grinding by how wrong it was.

It was maddening.

Every moment he was forced onto the Watchtower was a waiting game, because every time without fail Danny would be there. Either doing innocuous maintenance or as ominous green pinpricks from the shadows. Stalking him. Hunting him. Waiting for him to slip up, to come here ‘uninvited’.

But Jason was careful, and Danny would just have to go hungry.

Oo o oO

It was bound to happen, Jason thought as he limped as fast as his leg would take him into a narrow alley. You could only go so long without killing anyone before they realized you’d stopped sending that kind of message, that the old mail service had shut down and they realized you’d gone over to e-mail or whatever newfangled thing was supposed to work in this metaphor. The blood loss was not helping Jason’s faculties at the moment.

The point was… there was a point somewhere…

“Over here! Bitch is leading us straight to him.”

Jason looked down at the ground and the splatters that glistened in the lamplight. Not good, he had to-

“Hey-“

The sound came from behind him. Jason reacted on instinct, spinning around and pushing the assailant against the wall, an arm across their chest and gun pulled and aimed at their face, which- the rest of Jason’s blood promptly drained out of his face.

“We gotta stop meeting like this, Red,” Danny said, and gently moved Jason’s gun down to his side.

“What are you doing here?” No no no. He should be on the Watchtower, not here. Whatever he was shouldn’t be allowed to move locations!

“I live here?”

“What?” He whispered not understanding one bit.

“Apartment, third floor,” Danny pointed upwards somewhere behind Jason. He still couldn’t comprehend what was going on.

Danny looked to the mouth of the alley then down at Jason’s leg.

“You’re hurt.”

Jason shook his head. It wasn’t a denial that he was hurt, he was very aware, but it was a no he didn’t want whatever that sentence lead to, but he also knew he was powerless to fight it-

He was on a couch, looking up at a crack in the plaster ceiling. He didn’t know how he’d gotten there. His leg felt strangely cold and numb, like death creeping up on him from there, encroaching bit by bit. Maybe he should be alarmed, but his head felt like it was encased in fuzz.

“You with me again Red? You passed out there for a bit.”

Jason tilted his head. Danny was standing a few feet away holding a nondescript duffel bag, behind him an open doorway lead to a bathroom. He frowned, the lights from there were too bright and his gaze slid back to Danny. He didn’t even have the energy to feel scared right now.

Huh, Danny’s eyes were blue, he could have sworn they were green. They were also much closer than they had been just a moment ago. There was something important Jason was supposed to remember. Something had happened to get him here. It was dangerous to stay put-

“Woah- no.” Hands pushed at his shoulders. “Red, you’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

Jason gave up. Lying down was clearly better.

“Were you drugged too?” The voice wondered from far away.

Was he drugged?

Jason didn’t know. He didn’t remember.

Oo o oO

Jason woke up to sunlight streaming in from a window. The first, most apparent thing was that this was not his apartment. Secondly his right leg throbbed, and he was rather groggy.

His helmet stared back at him from the low coffee table. Alarmed, he sat up. The soft blanket he’d been covered by slid down to reveal he was undressed except for his underwear. The pull on his skin when he frowned revealed that his domino was at least still in place. He cast around and his heart about stopped when his gaze landed on Danny-

But after a moment of nothing happening and his brain taking in the way the slight man slept - crossways on a plush armchair, limbs akimbo, mouth open and neck at an angle that was gonna be uncomfortable when he woke - he could breathe again. In the sunlight he looked so human it felt almost silly to have been afraid. It was irrational, but Jason would allow the relief it gave him as long as Danny was asleep.

Next to the couch was an open duffel full of first aid supplies and a trash bag filled mainly with bloodied gauze squares and packaging. His hand went to his thigh and the two bandages adhering there - entrance and exit wound in his quadriceps, no wonder his thigh throbbed. Curious he pulled a corner of the innermost bandage so see a few neat stitches holding his skin together. He patted the bandage back in place, it wasn’t quite sticking as well as before, but it’d hold alright.

It was worrying that he didn’t remember how he’d been shot. Or how Danny, the creature from the Watchtower, was involved. Though currently the evidence pointed towards him having had a helpful disposition this time.

Jason bit back a groan as he swung his legs off the couch. Helpful disposition or not, Jason was not sticking around a moment longer than he had to.

Unfortunately the moment Jason touched the wooden floors Danny startled awake falling off the chair with a thump and an ooph. He sat up, clearly disoriented, his hair was a mess that stuck up on one side and he looked cute in the way a ruffled kitten looked. It was an absolutely crazy thought when Jason was caught on the edge of bolting in fear. The opposing feelings had hysteria bubbling up and he snorted in his attempt to hold back helpless laughter.

Danny blinked owlishly at him, eyes big and blue.

Blue, the thought repeated in Jason’s brain. Not glowing. Not green.

“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. You’ve gotta be hungry.” Danny picked himself off the floor.

Jason watched him carefully as he stood and walked over to the kitchen area. When he sent Jason a hesitant smile over his shoulder it was perfectly ordinary in width. There were no alarm bells ringing in Jason’s head, no sense of other.

Jason’s heart beat hard and fast in his chest. He felt like he was going crazy. How was this possible?

No! Jason had definitely seen what he’d seen on the Watchtower! He wasn’t crazy, but it was hard to believe his memories when Danny puttered about his kitchen, standing on tippy toes to reach something in one of the cupboards. He looked about as threatening as the kitten Jason’s brain had compared him to. His loose t-shirt and fuzzy washed out pajama pants with smiling stars only added to that.

He looked exactly the ordinary guy everyone thought him to be. Except he had seemingly brought a vigilante home for medical attention, but then again he did work on the Watchtower, so obviously not completely ordinary.

“Hope you’re not lactose intolerant.”

“What?” Jason shook himself out of his thoughts.

“Cause melted cheese sandwich is about the most exciting thing I can offer?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“’S fine.”

Could there be two of them? Or the creature on the Watchtower just occasionally took Danny’s shape? Or the creature was extremely adept at pretending to be human. Maybe they shared a body? Maybe Danny was unknowingly possessed? There were too many options and Jason knew too little.

He rubbed his head, trying to remember, what happened yesterday, but aside from going patrolling it was one big blank space.

“What happened yesterday?”

“Hmm? Oh I found you in the alley between my building and the next.” He vaguely waved in the direction of the windows to the right. “You were kinda out of it? Not to mention bleeding and there was a bunch of goons after you. So I brought you up.”

Jason frowned. “You shouldn’t have gotten involved. They could have followed you.”

Danny glanced back with a small bemused smile. “That was my choice.”

They drifted into silence after that as Jason pondered. He supposed it was rather silly to worry about Danny’s safety, but since right now he was questioning everything he thought he knew, he wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Why Crime Alley? Do they not pay you a decent wage?”

Danny glanced at him, another small smile stretching his lips and winked. “Wage is fine. I just happen to like Crime Alley’s vigilante best.”

Jason felt heat in his cheeks at that and was glad Danny was turned back around to face his grilled cheese project. There was no way that was the real reason, right? He thought back to how some of the first words Danny had said to him was to buy him dinner first. Had Danny been actually flirting with him? Was he flirting now? Jason felt deeply unsettled, not because the advance was unwanted but rather because somehow it wasn’t? Despite him still being half terrified.

“Here we go.” Danny snapped him out of his thoughts, setting down a steaming grilled cheese sandwich on the coffee table and slinging himself back into the armchair with his own plate.

Jason steeled himself. He was only going to get answers if he asked, and if it got him eaten? Well, at least he’d know.

“Are you possessed?”

Danny who’d just taken a bite spluttered and coughed, dry bread clearly going down the wrong pipe- and then, when his face was turning alarmingly red and Jason was considering if he needed to go over there and perform the Heimlich, Danny reached into his chest and plucked out the offending half-chewed bread with a relieved wheeze. He grimaced at the mass in his hands before leaving on his plate. Another reflexive cough shook his frame as he looked at Jason.

“I’m sorry? Possessed?” He asked hoarsely, as if he couldn’t believe it.

Jason crossed his arms.

“Well you’re something! You just reached a hand inside yourself and you- on the Watchtower-“ And Jason couldn’t even begin to describe the events on the Watchtower.

Danny looked at him dumbfounded.

“Oh…” Another cough turned into laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought for sure-“ He spoke in between laughter. “I really haven’t been nice, have I?”

Jason stared levelly at Danny in his best impression of Bruce, conveying wordlessly how that was not an explanation at all. Danny eventually sobered.

“I thought you could sense what I am, so I kinda allowed my instincts a bit more free rein than I usually do.”

“I sensed you were something.” Jason grumbled, “and that still doesn’t explain what you are?”

When Jason met Danny’s eyes they glowed green and his smile was too sharp. He stilled.

“If you don’t know what I am, do you even know what you are?”

There was swoop in his stomach and terror clutched his rapidly beating heart. Danny’s nostrils flared as he breathed in deep, scenting like a predator looking for prey, except he already had Jason in his sights.

Then, just as abruptly the pressure let up, and Danny who’d somehow left his chair floated back into it to slump boneless across the armrests, head tilted back, barring his throat.

“You can do whatever you want with me Red, you are so fucking delicious.”

Jason felt terrible heat in his face and chest and mortifyingly down south at the shift in mood. Danny, from the way he eyed Jason out the side of half lidded eyes, somehow knew, which only made it worse.

“You still have not answered my question.”

Danny sighed. “I’m a half-ghost. More specifically the ghost half is a protective spirit, so while to the human part of me the Watchtower is my workplace that pays the bills, to the ghostly part it’s my haunt.”

Jason frowned. Half Ghost? “I’m not sure that explains anything.”

“It means, that you should be very glad I already knew and liked you that time you broke into the Watchtower. It’s easier to leave humans and whatever aliens there might be to the Justice League, though I will admit to having traumatized some invaders here and there, but supernatural threats like yourself? Generally don’t make it out alive, unless they realize fast enough what mistake they made, like there was this pale child looking sorceror with a cat once? He was very quick to make his escape.”

Danny was clearly just rambling now. Maybe Jason should feel afraid now that he knew he was right, that Danny really was a terrifying creature that definitely would have killed, maybe even eaten him, but mostly he felt relieved it wasn’t all in his head and it was clear to him now that Danny didn’t actually want to kill him. He was all bark and no bite- or maybe actually probably a lot of biting, but no tearing chunks out of him.

Suddenly he realized how hungry he was and he grabbed the cooled off melted cheese sandwich and took a bite. It didn’t even matter that it was cold, cause Jason was ravenous. He swallowed a bite, as he pondered out loud, “So how come you’re tolerating me here in your home?”

Danny sent him a baffled look. “For one, I brought you here. Secondly this is your haunt.”

“My haunt?”

Danny frowned. “I don’t know exactly where you fall on the scale of ghostliness, but it may be less than I assumed if you really don’t know.” At Jason’s continued silence, Danny elaborated, “you have the whole Crime Alley area quite thoroughly claimed as yours. Anyone with even a small sense for the supernatural would know.”

“Then how come I’ve not felt the urge to evict you violently.”

“Because you protect everyone who just wants to life here in peace,” Danny smiled softly.

Jason was stumped, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the words.

Danny looked up at the ceiling. “I like my mischief and I will admit I have delighted in messing with you. But for someone like me, whose core thrums with the need to protect my haunt, whose every sense is tuned towards potential invaders when I am in my haunt, to be able to leave that behind when I clock out, to be able to go home, to a little place not my haunt, not my responsibility, where I can actually relax? Be human?”

He looked back over a Jason, blue eyes slightly glistening. “I told you, you were my favorite vigilante.”

Jason really didn’t know what to say to that, it felt like so much more than what the words themselves meant. His own throat felt tight.

Danny chuckled self-consciously and finally sat up, quickly wiping his eyes. “Well, that was more than I really expected to reveal of myself, but since you didn’t know, well, I owed you an explanation for the terrorizing.”

But what about the flirting? Jason found he really wanted to know about that, but his tongue felt tied. It didn’t feel right to bring up after that.

The somber mood followed them through the rest of their long gone cold grilled cheese sandwiches, through Jason redressing in his surprisingly clean suit and a wordless goodbye.

Oo o oO

The next time Jason was on the Watchtower, he didn’t see Danny at all. Didn’t even sense him. He didn’t know what to do with that, didn’t know why he felt so bereft. He should be happy right? To for once not to leave the Watchtower terrified for his life? But he wasn’t.

He was so fucking messed up.

He knew where Danny lived. He could always go there.

He didn’t.

He had no clue what he even wanted from Danny!

Oo o oO

This was not good.

In fact things had pretty much gone to shit.

He barely managed to combine another dodge and deflection to avoid another swipe of that cursed flaming sword. Something that big should not be allowed to move so fucking fast. Jason panted and sweat ran down his face. He’d lost his helmet some time during the fight.

He dodged again. Gritting his teeth as he using the All Blades to propel himself over the flaming sword.

“Any ETA on that solution.” He yelled over the roaring flames. It was hard to breathe and even harder to fight.

The comm in his ear crackled, obviously not appreciating the heat, it was a wonder it was even still working. “They’re working on it. Hood you have to retreat if-“

“Like Hell, I will,” Jason snarled back, this knock-off balrog was not reaching Gotham. It was not reaching the line of fire fighters holding the flames back. Not while Jason still stood.

It was however not looking good. While Jason had managed to score hits, mainly early in the fight - the thing bled fucking lava. His only real chance was to stall. If this had been the only one Jason would have gladly left it to Bruce’s super friends, but it wasn’t. The Justice League, everyone, was stretched thin as multiple rifts had opened all over the place letting these creatures into their world and it didn’t matter if they beat the creatures back in the rifts, they couldn’t exactly leave their spots until the rifts were closed.

It was little comfort that the perpetrators had met their end as the first victims of their folly.

Jason only barely got his blades up and crossed above him and the sword went down in an overhanded strike. Immediately Jason knew it was a mistake, and it would cost him. He should have tried to dodge, instead the sword hit the All-Blades with an explosion of sparks. Jason yelled in pain as the force of it brought him to his knees.

“Jason!” Bruce yelled and it was only because it was right in his ear he could hear anything over the ringing. He rolled to the side instantly, ignoring the way he couldn’t feel his arms. The flaming sword came down gouging into the ground where he was a fraction of a second ago.

The knowledge came over him with sudden clarity, clear and calm, inevitable; he wouldn’t be fast enough to dodge the next strike. He still tried, because Jason would always fight to the last, but his limbs were too slow, too sluggish, the sword was already coming towards him.

He braced himself.

A pillar of ice shot up before him, the sword cleaved down, but stopped a feet above his head where it stuck. The beast roared in anger and pulled. Dumbfounded, Jason stared at the sputtering blade that had been mean to cleave him in half.

“Cool glowing swords, mind if I borrow them?”

Suddenly Danny was folded around his kneeling form, arms reaching out and fingers circling around each of the All-Blades. The blades powered by his soul. Jason gasped at the rush of energy it gave him. It shouldn’t be possible. Danny shouldn’t be able to pluck the blades out of his hands. Much less be able to wield them.

But wield them he did. He beat the beast back with a kick that broke the pillar. The beast never really had a chance, between the blades and the ice Danny could summon that clearly pained the beast, it really was a terrible matchup.

Jason felt like he should feel violated, those blades were made from his soul. And yet all he felt was protected, safe, loved. It was quite possible he was delirious or high. At least the blistering heat from the fires was going down with all the ice Danny had thrown around.

Before Jason knew it, it was over. Danny may or may not have eaten the Balrog, Jason wasn’t entirely clear on the details, or why Danny’s hair had been white at some point, it was really all very confusing.

Gingerly, Jason got to his feet. His entire body felt like it had been through a meat grinder, and yet there was still that strange buzzing energy under his skin. He slowly made his way towards Danny.

Danny, who was studying the glowing red rift in space time, tilted his head considering. Then moving the blades carefully so both were in his right hand, he reached out with his left hand as if feeling for something, then with a sharp counter-clock motion, the rift was gone.

Huh.

Danny turned back around and smiled sheepishly. “Oh hey, Red. I’m sorry about grabbing your swords like that-“

And it didn’t really matter what Danny was going to say. Jason grabbed his head and crashed their lips together. A small wounded noise escaped Danny’s throat and then he was kissing Jason back with fervor. And when Danny dropped the blades to let them dissolve to dig his own desperate fingers into Jason’s matted hair, it didn’t matter that he lost that all encompassing feeling of love and protection, because he knew how Danny felt, and he finally knew what to do with all his own confused feelings.

They broke apart to breathe, foreheads leaning on each other, eyes meeting though it was hard to focus this close.

“Couldn’t you have shown up a bit sooner?” Jason panted.

“I was visiting some friends… they don’t exactly live around here.” From the slightly shifty glance Danny gave to the side, it was probably a good bet that 'not around here', meant another plane of existence. what the fuck was Jason’s life?

“I’m just-“ Danny’s fingers tightened in Jason’s hair momentarily, “so glad I didn’t get here a second later.”

Jason grinned toothily, and he probably looked terrible goofy, but he didn’t care, it was just he and Danny here. “So am I.”

The comm crackled, and Bruce’s voice asked almost hesitantly, “What’s your status, Hood?”

Oh right, not completely alone. But Bruce thankfully didn’t have visuals.

“Ah.” Jason straightened, and promptly grabbed one of Danny’s hands when they tried to leave him, earning a little surprised smile from Danny. Urgh, creatures from the abyss had no right to be this cute.

“We’re okay, I’m okay. Situation is dealt with here.”

There was a relieved sigh from the other end, and Jason did not envy the old man his role as a coordinator of their efforts-

“Oh!” Jason suddenly realized. “Danny can close the rifts.”

“Danny?” Bruce’s simple question was overlaid with Tim chiming in with disbelief.

He shared a glance with Danny, who gave him a grin full of mischief.

“Yeah, Danny from Maintenance.”

-

And that's that, hope you enjoyed :D I certainly had fun writing this. Tell me what your thought if you have the time?

[dragoneyelashart]

jock! billie x schoolgirl! reader

୨ৎ smut ୨ৎ

a/n: kinda not proof read (🤓)

you were always the quiet one — the kind of student who teachers remembered for the neat handwriting and the way you always sat near the front. a book was practically a part of your uniform, tucked under your arm like a shield. you weren’t trying to impress anyone; you just liked to know things, liked the safety that knowledge brought. friends came in a tight circle, never more than a handful, but they were real, and that was what mattered.billie was one of those rare few. she was nothing like you — the kind of girl who didn’t have to try to be popular because it just clung to her. captain of the football team, known for her messy eyeliner and the way she could talk her way out of detention with a smile. everyone wanted a piece of her, but she only ever seemed to want to sit beside you.

after billie failed an english test so spectacularly, it was almost suspicious. the teacher asked you to tutor her, and billie, with that crooked grin of hers, didn’t even try to hide how pleased she was. "guess i need a genius to save me," she’d said. you’d rolled your eyes, but something about the way she said it made your stomach flutter. she just wanted an excuse. and she got one — in the form of tutoring sessions, long afternoons in the library where she’d lean too close and pretend not to understand metaphors just so you’d keep talking.now, weeks later, the two of you were tucked into the farthest corner of health class. you would have picked a seat closer to the front, you always did, but billie had begged she looked at you with those eyes, wide and a little dramatic, insisting that the teacher definitely had it out for her and how she couldn’t concentrate up there. you weren’t sure if you believed her, but she’d looked at you like you were her last hope, and you’d caved. the classroom hums with low voices and the dry drone of the teacher's lecture. you're tuned in anyway, scribbling down notes even though you already know the material. you underline a sentence in your spiral notebook, your pen gliding neatly in a straight line. then, you feel a slight brush to your thigh. fingertips against the fabric of your skirt, slow, deliberate. like a question without words. your posture stiffens just slightly, but you don’t pull away. instead, your eyes flick sideways, catching billie out of the corner of your vision.

she’s half-watching the front of the room, half-watching you, a ghost of a smile on her lips like she knows exactly what she’s doing. her fingers don’t move any further, just rest there — a whisper of contact that sends your thoughts scattering. you don’t say anything. not yet. but your hand falters where it rests on the page. your pencil rolls slightly in your grip. you turn your head just enough to meet her eyes — not startled, not annoyed, just quietly asking: what are you doing?

billie leans in, just a little. her knee bumps yours under the desk, slowly drawing patterns up and down your thigh making you shiver. “billie we’ll get caught! stop!” you whisper slightly yelling at her, trying to swat her hand from your thigh. she doesn’t move though planting her hand firmly, the cool touch of her rings adding some cool to the warmth you felt.

billie leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “shh, mama. just focus that pretty head on your work. i just need something hands-on to understand what she’s teaching,” she whispers, voice dripping with mischief. you roll your eyes at her before going back to looking the the white board to continue taking notes. while you were writing something billie takes it as the perfect moment to slip her fingers in. you grip tightens on the pencil and you glare at billie, trying to ignore how full you feel. she keeps her fingers still for a few minutes slightly toying with your clit, just to tease you. you on the other hand felt so full, the lesson not even being on your mind. when billie shifts her seat slightly her fingers readjust causing you to whimper, but quiet enough for just you and her to hear. billie grins internally, beginning to move her fingers. billie leans in close, her breath warm against your ear. “shh, mama. just focus that pretty head on your work. i just need something hands-on to understand what she’s teaching,” she whispers, voice dripping with mischief.

you rolled your eyes, fighting the smirk that tugs at your lips. of course she couldn’t just sit still in class. still, you turn back to the whiteboard, eyes scanning over the notes as your pencil begins to move again. while you're mid-sentence, billie seizes the opportunity. her fingers slip into your pussy, her forearm resting boldly on your thigh. you tense, grip tightening around your pencil, your body aware of her touch in a way that makes it impossible to concentrate. you glare at her from the corner of your eye, silently warning her—but she just gives you that crooked little grin, smug and unbothered. she doesn’t move her hand much at first, just the barest brushing of fingertips along your skin—enough to tease, to keep your nerves humming. she started out slow, dragging out her thrusts to annoy you as much as she could, but you needed more, and you knew that she knew that you needed more. you pinch her arm slightly begging her to move faster. billie shakes her head, taking her fingers out of you, marvelling at how sweet you tasted. “behave, or i’ll bend you over the table right now in front of everyone,” she whispers harshly in your ear. you buck up your hips begging for anything at this point, even slightly grinding down on the chair, you just needed her to touch you. you take her hands in yours slowly tracing the outline of her rings, leading them to your pussy and pressing them against your clit, a silent way of begging for her touch. she pushes her fingers into you, fucking you faster. sounds from how wet you were echoed through your mind, yet could be heard between the two of you. your mind grows fuzzy, no longer focused on the task at hand, the fear of being caught only adding to the haze.“oh baby, what would miss say if she saw her little pet sitting like this, hmm? would you still be her perfect little student?” billie whispers, fucking you deeper and harder with her fingers. you part your legs a little more, giving her better access, your head falling to the table, lip caught between your teeth, and beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you try to stay quiet, “so fucking dirty, getting fucked in class because you’re my needy slut isn’t that right? always need to be stuffed full” you really did try to keep quiet.

your jaw was tight, your breath shallow, and your thighs trembled from the effort of holding everything in. but billie wasn’t making it easy. her fingers worked at an inhuman pace beneath the desk, every movement purposeful, every curl and drag calculated to unravel you. just as you clenched your teeth to stifle another gasp, she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “poor baby,” she whispered, her voice syrup-sweet and cruel. “so sensitive… and i just started.”

a soft, helpless whine slipped from your lips—too quiet for most to hear, but not for the teacher. you heard her heels tap as she turned around, her eyes narrowing. “everything alright, y/n?” her voice cut through the haze, sharp and direct, her gaze settling on you with suspicion. your heart leapt into your throat. you straightened as best you could, willing your face into something neutral, though your skin burned and your breathing betrayed you. you gave the smallest nod, voice catching in your throat. “y-yeah—yes, miss.”

she lingered for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, then turned back to the whiteboard. your entire body fell with relief, but billie only giggled softly, her breath tickling your neck. her fingers didn’t stop—if anything, they sped up more, becoming more deliberate. “always trying to be the perfect schoolgirl, aren’t you, princess?” she whispered, her tone thick with mock admiration. “bet miss has no idea what her favorite little student’s doing under the desk.” her words burned hotter than her touch. you bit down hard on your lip, forehead damp with sweat, knuckles white where you gripped the edge of the desk.

“come on bunny, cum for me”

taglist: @amara-eilish @bilswifee @iamnicoke @jayjaywetforbils @bittersuitekim @bxllxebxtch @bitchesbrokenpromises @ijustlovemaths @ilovealiceosemann @bilssturns @peytonglazesbillieeilish | send me an ask, or comment if you want to be added to my taglist!

[kkoffin]

aside from your harmful transphobic views, what did kink ever do to you 😭

literally let me choke my boyfriend if hes into it lmao

to me personally, kink fucking ruined my relationship with sex and affection. people such as yourself always seem to assume i’m just some sheltered prude who thinks “anything other than missionary is the devil’s lust taking over!!”, but i was probably just as deep, if not deeper in it than yourself, and i’m still recovering from it, after years of trying to fix things.

sex was a performance, an act on both parts. sex wasnt a matter of what felt nice, and caring for my partner, wanting to share something, and be intimate. i felt exhausted after the act - sometimes it felt awkward returning to daily life. sex wasn’t really sex. it wasn’t intimate, it wasn’t loving, it was performing. I don’t know how to be intimate anymore. i can’t turn back time, and get my first times back, and recreate them as loving, and explorative. i was reliant on porn and kink, and now i’ve lacked any libido for years. I’m afraid to be intimate with anyone. I know that if i were still dating, many people i’d partner up with and have sex with would start choking me or hitting me without asking, or even if i explicitly told them not to.

it had much worse consequences too. sometimes, or eventually, it isn’t an act. sometimes it becomes real. you can’t act like one partner is superior, and the other is indebted or lesser-than without it seeping outside the bedroom. one starts always feeling like they owe the other, they must be obedient to the other, not question them. even when the other partner doesn’t intend this at all, and even where you might not notice it. after long enough of this, i spiraled into self-hatred, and complete reliance on my partner for any affirmation of my worth.

kink affected me before i’d even had sex, too. it was popular at my school, or maybe just amongst my group of friends, to take that “bdsm test” online. from the get-go, it wasn’t “cool” to be “vanilla”. before i had ever had sex, before i ever got to explore my own sexuality, what i liked and what i didn’t, i expected my partner to hit me, degrade me, etc, because that’s what was “cool”. it’s cool for women to let their boyfriend hit them. it makes the boys like you more, it makes you more fuckable. sometimes boys were the ones being hit too, or girls would be the ones degrading others, but either way, it certainly wasn’t cool to be a “vanilla wife”. i was maybe 13 when this started.

so that’s what kink did to me specifically, but that’s not the only reason i’m against it. refer to pavlov’s dog here: do you think it’s a good idea to condition yourself to be turned on when someone’s in pain, or when you hurt someone? look at the faces of many “submissives” in porn, see the fact that “painanal” is a hugely popular category - those faces are not happy, or in pleasure, or intimate and loving, or even aroused. they’re suffering. they even cry, or the video emphasises their pain. maybe they don’t say “no” or “stop”, but there’s a reason the video takes place in a situation they can’t escape from. that’s why “stuck in the washing machine” is such a popular category. it’s so they can’t escape. it’s an unsaid “no”. do you think it’s a good idea to condition yourself to be aroused when others suffer? hint: majority of misogynistic serial killers did just that. same with majority of serial rapists.

it is like a drug - you look for the next high, or the next taboo. whatever’s bigger and badder. i believe that’s scientifically proven; that porn addicts and people who engage with kink content always end up getting more and more extreme. it doesn’t stop at choking, or light “spanking”. it ends with CP and/or murder and/or rape etc. the only thing that really ends it is a prison sentence, or giving it up. vast majority of older men in the kink community have some sort of abuse or SA allegation against them. there’s a huge portion of men in prison for possession of CP who aren’t pedophiles, it was just their next taboo.

there’s so so so so so much more to address, and if you’re truly interested i can recommend books, but this post has gotten personal enough. i doubt you truly wanted to know “what kink did to me”, but that’s a peek into it. besides me, it’s worth note that kink has killed plenty people. choking can kill much easier than one would think - you can damage veins in the neck and die days after, just as one example

[mallory524]

Can I request thunderbolts and how they handle female reader whos feeling down? About a person thing or a mission or whatever, it doesnt matter, just maybe some hugs if its not too much to ask? I love love love your thunderbolts reactions to reader getting kidnapped!! Im also so obsessed with them rn <3

(ahhhh you're so nice thanks)

thunderbolts when you're feeling down

tags- fem!reader, comfort, hugsss, vague mentions of injuries, people are mean but the thunderbolts love you

notes- i know i've been taking so long to get back to requests i've been busy and i barely went on tumblr the last few days but i'm turning that around now let's go babyyy

Yelena

You’d gotten hurt during a mission that went very wrong and Yelena had to help you hobble out of there herself. Your body may have healed pretty quickly, but you were definitely acting differently for the next few days. You were just so … sad. It was surprising for Yelena, especially since this was by no means the worst mission you’d ever been on. Nonetheless, you weren’t your usual bright self, and Yelena knew something was eating away at you.

Yelena won’t let you pretend nothing’s wrong, of course. She eventually gets to the bottom of it, hearing you say it made you feel weak after needing so much help the other day. "Yelena, you and Ava have such cool abilities, and we’ve got three super soldiers Plus, a guy who can’t even go on these missions because he’s too powerful to be let loose-" She quickly cuts you off. "No, do not start that. Don't start comparing yourself to other people. You are one of the most capable people I know. You've saved me and the others so many times. You don't even give it a second thought," she tells you, taking your hand into hers. "This is just one of those times we get to help you. You deserve to have someone take care of you for once." Just the way she says that she gets to help you really shows how much she cares about you, and how much she wants to be there for you when you need her.

If going out and taking a brisk walk around town would make you feel better, Yelena's got her shoes on, ready to go. If you want to fall asleep watching a movie with her, she'll grab some snacks and a big blanket to wrap around you. She won't leave your side until she's seen you smile - really smile - and even then, she's still spending as much time with you as she can. No such thing as too many hugs or too many kind words for you.

Bucky

Being with a congressman, you already had a lot of events you had to attend, but now you're both in the New Avengers sort of against your will, so double that. It's constant formal events and conferences and banquets, and talking to some of the most arrogant people in the world at all of them. You try to make friends, or at least find someone to talk to, but your efforts aren't often met with the response you want. Some are nice, but a lot of these high society types look down on you. You try not to take it personally, because they look down on everyone, but it's hard not to be discouraged when you're constantly surrounded by people who believe themselves to be so much better than you. They're so cold, and Bucky is often the only real source of warmth or kindness you have all night.

After you get home after an especially exhausting evening, Bucky waits for you to get changed into your comfy clothes so he can talk to you. The moment you walk back into the room, he pulls you into a hug. "You're so patient for putting up with all these things," he mutters to you. You try to tell him that you don't mind, but he knows. These events have gotten to be draining. You finally tell Bucky how those people are really starting to bring you down. He reminds you that he loves you so much, and you shouldn't spend time worrying about anyone who can't see how wonderful you are.

Bucky will cook you some comfort food or draw you a bath if you want, or the two of you can just spend the rest of the night quietly enjoying each other's company, watching something or listening to music. He'll do anything you want. He hates when you're discouraged like this and he just wants you to feel better.

Ava

Life with the Thunderbolts/Avengerz has been great, but lately things haven't been as fun. The team is getting really busy, so you aren't taking the time to hang out anymore. It feels like when you're not on a mission, you just sit around the tower and everyone does their own thing. It was nice at first, but it's gotten lonely. You're spending all your time alone or working, and you've been in low spirits as a result.

Ava's concerned by your change in demeaner, and one day she asks you about it. When you finally open up and tell her how lonesome you've been lately, she feels terrible. "You're right, we haven't been spending enough time together. I'm sorry," she tells you, gently reaching out to embrace you. "We should be making more of an effort to hang out throughout the day. We've had a lot of big changes in our lives lately, and you shouldn't be processing it all by yourself." She sits with you for the rest of that afternoon, talking, laughing, watching tv and holding each other. When you leave the room for a moment to grab a blanket, Ava texts Yelena and asks that she make sure no one has anything planned later tonight; the team should do something together, even something simple like a movie night with everyone crammed on the couch. Ava likes her solitude, but she knows you'll love spending some quality time with the group. She doesn't want you to have to spend another night isolated in your room.

John

The mission had been pretty rough, and nearly failed completely. It was a rescue mission, and in spite of the chaos and darkness, you thought you'd figured out where the hostages were. It immediately became clear, though, that you'd fallen into a trap and led your friends right into it with you. You eventually got out of there and saved the people you were looking for, but you were all injured to varying degrees because of your mistake.

Back at the tower later, you're laying down on your bed all alone while everyone chats in the other room. John walks in, sits beside you, and asks what's going on. "I almost got us all killed, Walker. I can’t face any of them,” you say, sitting up but not turning your head to meet his eyes. Hearing you talk like this breaks his heart - and hearing your voice tremble a little like you might cry sends him into a panic. "Hey, hey it's okay! You made a mistake. Everyone does... you know I have."

"Well, Ava was pretty mad at me back there. She has every right, but you know... it hurts." He gently turns your face so he can look at you. It's sad, you're blaming yourself for everyone else's injuries, but you're looking pretty banged up yourself. "Well I'm not mad at you," he says softly. "You helped a lot of people today. It just didn’t go very smoothly. You did your best, don’t beat yourself up about this." You've got him by your side for the rest of the night. He doesn't want to rejoin the group, he just wants to be there for you. You lay there with your head on his chest, as he gently strokes your hair. He occasionally leans further down to quietly compliment you: telling you how smart you are, how beautiful you are, how strong...

Alexei

The news is rarely on in the tower. It's a lot of the same stuff over and over, and many channels don't have anything nice to say about any of you. It's usually not anything surprising or even very personal, just repetitive. A lot of "Who even are these people?" and "How can we trust them?" and "Captain America is suing those frauds " and "Remember when John Walker killed that guy?". It starts to get to you, though, when the press starts to find out more and more about your past. Turning on the tv and seeing literal footage of the things in your life that you regret the most is the worst feeling.

Alexei catches on to what's happening. You seem sort of down all the time and you're not talking very much anymore at those galas and charity events that you all have to go to, or even to your friends for that matter. You eventually confide in Alexei about how much this is all beginning to bother you. He grabs you by the shoulders, looking you in the eyes and immediately trying to cheer you up. "Do not listen to any of them. You know who you are and we all know who you are. These vultures just look for the worst in everyone. You have come a long way and you are doing your best. Do not forget that." You now have someone standing up for you whenever some reporter tries to give you a hard time. Alexei is a very friendly guy, but he can be intimidating when he needs to be. He texts you throughout the day to see how you're feeling, even after you insist you're fine. He will do anything you want to do if he thinks it'll raise your spirits, even if that's just a big hug at the end of a really tough day.

Bob

Most of the time, the team works on their own, but you do have to check in with Valentina occasionally. No one enjoys that. Her career is almost entirely in the hands of the New Avengers, so she kisses up to you when she thinks it will help her, but she's still kind of the worst. You meet up with Valentina on your own today and you try to be cordial, but she keeps throwing in little digs. She asks you if you’ve slept because “you look so tired”, she asks if that's really what you're wearing to the press conference, and before you leave, she tells you to leave the talking to her tonight. "We really want them to root for us, and with your past... well you understand,” she says. You carefully remind Valentina that she's one to talk about bad press, and that shuts her up, but her words stick with you regardless.

Bob's in the other room, listening to the constant slights. He knows all too well how Valentina can be so inviting, and then belittling a second later. It’s not clear whether or not she even realizes she's doing it. Maybe it makes her feel like she still has a little power over you and the team. You brush off all her words, but Bob knows it's gotten to be too much. Throughout that long, boring press conference, Bob keeps glancing your way, and you seem sort of off. Bob pulls you to the side afterwards and asks you about that meeting with Valentina, checking in to make sure you’re okay. You just wave it off and tell him you don't care, and that "being a little rude is definitely not the most egregious of Valentina's many crimes". He nods and takes your hands as he tells you, "I know, but I don't like hearing her talk to you that way. You’re just… you’re just so great. I don’t want you thinking otherwise. Especially not because of people like her.” You wrap your arms around him and thank him for his sweet words. Bob doesn't just move on after that, though. He knows how much impact words have. He makes sure to regularly assure you, tell you how nice you look, and comment on how kind and strong you are whenever he can. The world isn't kind and he wants to make up for it. He doesn't want you forgetting how wonderful you are.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Birthday Cake (Alastor x Reader)

Requested on VoxTek Discord server! No CW, a little angst. Happy birthday to those of you with birthdays this month <3

Alastor hummed as he carefully measured flour and sugar. He cracked eggs and mixed in cocoa powder. It’d been a long time since he baked anything, let alone this cake.

There was a point in his life when he baked it every year, though he himself wasn’t fond of sweets. It was his Ma’s favorite cake and by that virtue alone, it was Alastor’s favorite as well.

She raised him in poverty but the one thing she always ensured was that Alastor had a birthday cake. She’d skip more meals than typical in order to ensure it would happen. Before he was old enough to realize how much it meant to her, he would protest that he didn’t like sweet cakes.

As he grew, he noticed that most years, she didn’t have a cake to mark her own birthday. It was only used to mark his birthdays and that of his father. That’s when Alastor decided that when she would ask him what cake he wanted that year, he would request his Ma’s favorite cake.

Every year following, he asked for her favorite, claiming it as his own. It was many years later, when she was weak and ill, that she mentioned how adorable she thought it was that they shared that favorite.

He told her again how he doesn’t care for sweets. He didn’t ask for the cake for himself. It was late, every year, but unbeknownst to her, she was making her own birthday cake.

After she passed, he did carry a fondness for the cake. He’d make a small one to mark his birthday, taking it to her grave-site and eating it with her.

That, of course, ended with everything else when he took a bullet to the head.

The ingredients to make the cake were much harder to find in hell, making the special cake an infrequent treat. It’d been at least a decade since he made it last.

But then you showed up at the hotel. What a darling little bit of entertainment. He’d grown fond of teasing you, taking joy in your emphatic reactions to his little jabs. It was a passing snippet of conversation that he overheard your birthday.

It was the same birthday as his Ma. What were the odds? What were the chances?

Alastor wasn’t one to believe in signs from above in life. He believed in those even less now. The divine wouldn’t bother sending a sign to a man damned in hell.

That lack of belief did not stop him from hunting down the ingredients for the cake. It had him mixing them together in a bowl in the quiet hours of the morning, while everyone else was still asleep. He poured the batter into the floured pan and tapped it hard against the counter, knocking the bubbles out before reaching out with a tentacle to open the oven.

He waited while it baked, mixing up the too sweet icing. His nose wrinkled as the powdered sugar fluffed up into his face, sweetening the air itself as he whipped it into the butter.

Once the cake was done, baked, cooled and decorated with the rustic charm that came with spatula waves in the icing. All that was left was to give it to you.

That shouldn’t be so hard, should it? Except he didn’t want a single other person in the hotel to know what he’d done. He wasn’t ashamed- Ha! It was just what he made for you was special.

It wasn't something he wanted to share with just anyone. You were special. You had to be, you had the same birthday as his Ma. It had to be a sign that you would be important to him.

He paced the room, trying to think of a way to get you into his space without raising questions. There wasn’t time to worry about it longer as a knock sounded at his door. He looked behind him once, his hand resting on the knob.

If he opened the door, they’d be able to see the cake sitting on his small dining table. That wouldn’t do.

Darkness deepened in his room, shadows swallowing the table and everything around it. Much better!

“What can I help you with?” Alastor asked, opening the door with a dramatic flourish only to find himself face to face with you. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise!”

“I… Um?” You blinked up at the intimidating demon. He was handsome and charming but more than anything, he was terrifying. “Charlie-”

“Charlie can wait!” Alasator laughed, reaching out and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you to his side. “It’s a special day today!.”

“Is it?” You tried to step away from him only for his grip to tighten.

“You can’t have forgotten what day it is?” Alastor’s static was thick in the air, but his voice was light as he pulled you into the darkness of his room.

“I don’t… I don’t know what you mean?”

“It’s your birthday!” Alastor’s hands left you, and he stepped in front of you.

His eyes and smile glowed in the near total darkness. He held out his hands, fingers wiggling. The darkness pulled back slowly, letting light into the space as he kept his jazz hands going until you saw the small cake sitting in the center of the table.

"I’ve made you a cake!” He laughed as if that was some sort of joke.

The sharp snap of his fingers sparked a flash of green light that turned into a green flame. It floated on nothing through the air, traveling to the wick of a candle in the center of the cake. It caught, shifting with a flash from green to the orange flame you knew so well.

“You… made me a cake?”

“I did!” Alastor laughed again. “Now come, sit. Blow out your candle and make a wish. It won’t come true, of course, but wish anyway!”

You didn’t know what else to do so you sat down in the wrought iron chair. Alastor sat across from you. Two forks appeared in a flash.

“Go on,” he urged. “Can’t start without you.”

“Right,” you said, leaning forward to send out a puff of air. It was just enough to blow out the candle.

Smoke trailed up into the air for a few seconds before the candle flickered back to life.

“It’s your lucky day!” Alastor leaned forward. “It looks like you get another wish.”

This repeated near a dozen times before Alastor grew tired of the game and allowed the candle to remain out. Though his antics aggravated you, you were far too attached to being in one piece to demand him stop.

It was well known that Alastor didn’t care for sweets, so it surprised you when he picked up his fork as you picked yours up. You hesitated before spearing the cake and bringing a bite toward your lips where your fork’s travel stalled.

“It’s not poisoned, is it?”

“Heavens, no!” Alastor flapped his hand at you before taking a bite of the cake himself. It either wasn’t poisoned or, if it was, it was weak enough that Alastor wasn’t in danger from it.

Either way, you were backed into a corner with no choice but to trust him and put the cake in your mouth.

“Good, isn’t it?” Alastor looked smugly down at you from across the table.

“It is,” you answered honestly. “Where did you get it?”

“I made it,” Alastor confided. “It was my ma’s favorite.”

“And you made it for me?” You blinked your wide eyes up at him. “Why?”

“It’s your birthday, silly!” Alastor said, reaching across the table to tap your nose with the tines of his fork. “Did you forget already?”

“No, I-”

Alastor cut you off, “Eat your cake and have a happy birthday, cher.”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[ramshackle-ramblings]

It's Been A Long Day

Dipping my feet into the swirling, murky waters of x Reader. Enjoy, or something.

@sunnysidesevenup

~~~

You pushed through the door to the Mostro Lounge, so exhausted you could barely stand and so hungry you thought you might throw up. Jade's smoothly apologetic voice greeted you before you where even properly inside.

"Take-out orders can be picked up at the bar, but I'm afraid we are closed for di- Oh!"

He broke off as you pulled out your phone with your free hand to check the time.

"Shit, I'm sorry," you said quietly. You could feel tears gathering behind your eyes. "I didn't realize how late it was."

You stepped back, but he caught your wrist before you could properly turn to leave, gently pulling you forward. If you had been looking at him, you would have seen concern flit across his face, but the thought of making eye contact with anyone right now made you want to curl into a ball and sob.

"Right this way," he said quietly, guiding you toward a booth in the back corner.

"You're closing," you tried to argue, but there was no fight left in you. "I don't want to put you out."

"Nonsense," he answered. "What's the point of knowing the owner if you can't take advantage once in a while?"

The idea of taking advantage of Azul struck you as uproariously funny, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"Do you know what you'd like?" Jade asked after seeing you settled into the booth. It was right next to the glass wall with the ocean beyond it, the water leaving mottled patterns of light on the table.

You shook your head, looking at some point over Jade's left shoulder, still avoiding eye contact but at least maybe it looked like you were trying. "It doesn't matter, whatever's easiest. I really don't want to put you out."

Your eyes flicked to his face and he smiled softly. "You couldn't possibly put us out," he assured you gently. "I'll let the kitchen know."

You settled against the cushioned back of the bench as he walked away, relishing the way it softly supported your exhausted body, and not caring when your eyes slowly drifted closed. The quiet sounds of the Lounge closing, the tinkle of glassware and dishes and the muted hum of tired, end-of-shift conversations lulled you, and you felt the tension easing out of your shoulders.

The light changed, a shadow falling across you, and your eyes snapped open, meeting Azul's pale blue-grey ones.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, placing a basket of bread and a little dish of herb infused oil on the table in front of you. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

You shook your head, pulling yourself up. "No, it's fine. You're fine. I'm the inconvenience. I can go so you don't have to work around me."

He shook his head. "You're not an inconvenience. The bread was going to go to waste if you hadn't shown up to eat it anyway." He pushed the the basket a little closer to you. "If there's anything else you need, just let me know."

You nodded, trying to rub the tired off of your face.

"Anything at all," he said, so firmly you looked up at him in surprise. His smile was as spurious as ever, but there was an earnestness in his eyes that you couldn't dismiss. You blinked at him and nodded your agreement. He gave you a little nod of his own and left you to your bread.

You dipped the bread in the oil, and the first bite was heaven. You weren't sure you'd ever eaten anything so wonderful in your entire life. You went through the first piece in what felt like seconds, vowing to slow down for the second one. Just as you had shoved another bite in your mouth, Jade appeared at the table with a glass of water, and some other drink. He placed both on the table in front of you.

You shook your head, trying to reiterate that you really didn't need all of this, they were closing, after all, but he had disappeared before you could swallow.

You picked up the drink, some swirling orange concoction that you were certain he'd put way too much effort into, and took a sip. It was cool and sweet and just as delicious as the bread.

Floyd showed up a few minutes later with a plate heaped high with steaming pasta. He set the plate down and slid into the booth across from you.

"I was gonna do shrimp, but Jade said he didn't think you'd appreciate the joke right now," he said. His tone was playful, but also careful. All the sharp edges and loud noises were quietly tucked away, waiting politely for you to be feeling up to them again. "So it's just chicken."

"I wou-" you started, but Floyd just raised an eyebrow.

"You don't gotta front, Shrimpy. We gotchu." His feet knocked against yours under the table as he stretched out. "Azul said you wanted something 'easy', so I made ya pasta, cause it's better than soup but you can still slurp it, and I cut everything up so you don't need a knife or nothin'."

"I meant easy for you," you explained, twirling the noodles onto your fork.

"Aw, that's sweet." He pushed his foot gently against yours.

You appreciated the misunderstanding, though you doubted it was one, though. The pasta required very little effort to get from the plate to your stomach, and you had very little effort to give.

Jade showed up with a pitcher of water and a cup of tea. He refilled your glass and slid into the booth next to Floyd, sipping quietly at his tea. Azul followed a few minutes later with receipt books and cash boxes, perching on the bench next to you.

He and Jade started going over the books while you ate, quietly balancing the day. Floyd occupied himself with folding napkins into interesting shapes. They managed to miraculously finish at the same time you did.

Azul gathered the books and slid smoothly out of the booth. Jade followed, gathering the dishes and sweeping them off to the kitchen.

You stared at the end of the booth and willed yourself to move. It seemed so far away, and you were so tired. After a minute you gathered the tattered remains of your willpower, and grabbed the end of the table to pull yourself to the end and force yourself to your feet.

You wobbled a little, closing your eyes as you steadied yourself, and suddenly you were braced against someone else, an arm warm around your shoulders, holding you upright.

You opened your eyes and looked up to meet Floyd's eyes, watching you gently, something akin to concern swimming below the surface. You looked away quickly, eyes focusing on the floor instead.

"We're invading Azul's after this to watch a movie," Floyd informed you. "You should come with."

"Are you, now?" Azul said dryly, walking up to the pair of you. Floyd nodded and grinned and Azul rolled his eyes. "You are welcome, though," he assured you.

You opened your mouth to protest, but Floyd was already leading you toward the door. "Yay, sleepover!" he crowed, and Azul trailed behind you. You picked up Jade somewhere along the way, and Floyd chattered happily with him, keeping you steady as you walked and not seeming to care how heavily you leaned against him.

They whisked you along, quickly and carefully, and presently you were nestled snugly between Azul and Jade, Floyd sprawled across the foot of the bed in full control of the remote. Your eyes were already heavy, and your only contribution to the conversation for the last several minutes had been little nods and non-committal hums.

"Just pick something, Floyd," Azul sighed. You nodded, or tried to, your head leaning to the side and coming to a rest on Azul's shoulder. Floyd looked back over his shoulder and giggled quietly.

You barely registered someone laying a blanket over you, and were soundly asleep before the opening credits of whatever movie Floyd had picked were over.

[houseofshy]

My First Offering - An Embroidery

This is the jeans jacket I hand embroidered for the Sleep Token concert back in December 2024.

The project took me about 6 months to complete, with a longer break in between.

It was quite a process, which I will describe below, if anyone is interested in that. If there are still questions, don't hesitate to reach out and I will answer to the best of my abilities, as I am by no means a professional :D

So. It started out as a little thought. I have that old jeans jacket collecting dust in my closet, and I want to upgrade that. Said, done.

I get a cheap pack of embroidery needles, even cheaper embroidery floss (which I regretted at one point, but I will explain that later on) and an old embroidery frame from my mother-in-law.

And then it was go time.

I started tracing the big logo in the middle. Seeing as I have absolutely no talent in drawing, I'm very glad that tracing on a tablet is an option :)

Printing that out, I taped the shape to the middle of the back piece and drew along the rim with a heaterasable pen. You can get that at any store that sells those pens with a rubber tip to erase the ink :D

After that, I set out to embroider the entire logo. It is made entirely with a satin stitch.

If there is any interest, I can explain different stitches in a seperate post :)

That took about 2-3 weeks to finish, as I work full-time, and weekends sometimes as well. Also, let's be real, I was so very slow ! But when I finished, I was so proud of myself, as it was my very first piece.

But ever the over achiever, I let it sit for a few days, before I thought "I can do more."

So, back to planning.

I sampled a lot of patterns and decided for this. It looked cool, but I wasn't sure I would complete it in time.

However, my mom did a lot of things wrong, but she didn't raise a quitter, so I got my shit together and started this enourmous project.

I ordered transfer paper online and printed everything out on there. It sticks to the material, and you can embroider on it and wash it off when you are finished.

I started with the more simple patterns, as the glyphs or the vines. Looked pretty solid, and I was extremely satisfied with my work, as well as my gained skill and haste.

Now that was the problem.

It looked so pretty at this point to me, that I was afraid of messing it up, so I fell into a bad headspace and stopped working on it for at least 8 weeks.

By now, it was end of July, so time was running out fast, considering the biggest part, the mirrored roses, still had to be done.

I got my shit back together thanks to my bestie, and started a trail run for colour scheme.

I was so happy that it looked exaktly like I imagined, and got motivation from that.

ADHD hyperfocus ON !

So I embroidered...

And embroidered (with some cat cuddles)..

And I was finally done !!

Only to realise that I have to do it ALL again on the other side !

I was about to cry, because just one single double coloured rose head took about 5-6 hours to make.

One entire rose side took me 4 weeks to finish D:

So, in the warm summer evenings, I sat on the balcony and got to work.

At least I knew what to do now and didn't have to think about that anymore.

No think, just stitch.

And one month later, I was actually finished !!

By the end of September I was done, thankfully much earlier than anticipated.

Now I simply had to wash off the water dissolvable transfer paper.

I did handwash it, but there was some glue residue left, so I had to bite the bullet and put it in the washer.

Those thirty-something minutes were terror. I was afraid the stitches won't hold, or the residue won't come off.

But thankfully, it was alright, and I let it dry out in the sun.

Now I wear that jacket whenever I can !! I love it so much.

I got quite a few compliments, especially at the London gig.

But the best one was when I went shopping for more high quality floss in a local craft store, and older lady complimented the jacket, and told me she was happy that the youth keeps things like that alive.

So, I made it a permanent hobby and already started another project on here that I will want to update regularly.

Thank you for reading, and feel free to ask away :D

Ps.: If you read this far, maybe leave a humble like or reblog ? <3

Thank you; A. \(^o^)/

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Translation:

LOL2025

It was a lot of fun for both days. I like the time when I did something new with all my friends. It was a really happy time. Thank you to GMMTV who always give me good opportunities. Thank you to the team members who always give their fullest. Always with us and together till the end. Thank you to the Phis and Nongs, we have fun together. I feel warm everytime we meet.

Thank you, to my most important person who is ready to shake hands and do crazy things with me all the time. Even if you said you are not good at it, and you are not confident, but you are always ready to go forward with me. I truly want to do things with you. And for me, the image I see you is…you’re seriously so damn cool, First. Love you na, Teng. Muah 🤘

And another indespensable person that I am excited to meet, Muu - fat, round. I used to talk to First that when our mascots come out, Mr Saturnworld will be roundest. But Muu is bigger than anyone else 555555555. It’s so cute. Let’s go together many places.

Finally, I would like to thank the fans who always supported and encouraged us. You are the cutest and the best. I love you, let’s find something to eat together. See you again, Nam.

😭😭😭 - FirstKhaotung love letters always make me emotional

LOLFanfest 2025 (17-18/05/2025)

*via Google translation (but it seems pretty accurate?) . Seems Khaotung has nicknamed YuzuMumu as Muu?

19/05/2025

[lila-lou]

✨Beyond his true fate - Part 3/14✨

Summary: Sequel to "His true fate".

(Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.)

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, tough topics

Word Count: 6730

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

Jensen’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. The drive to Houston felt never-ending, the hum of the road beneath his tires doing nothing to quiet the storm raging inside him. He had never been here—not to your parents’ house, not even when they moved to be closer to you. And you had never pressured him.

Now, he was about to show up unannounced at nearly midnight, desperate, unsure, but knowing he couldn’t wait any longer.

Beside him on the passenger seat sat a bouquet of roses, the petals a deep shade of red, freshly picked from the best florist he could find in a rush. And at that hour. Next to them was your favorite chocolate, the kind you always reached for when you were having a rough day. And beneath them, tucked neatly inside a small envelope, was a plane ticket.

He had bought it weeks ago.

Back when he thought you’d be here with him. Back when he imagined surprising you with it, seeing the way your face would light up at the thought of finally visiting the place you’d talked about since the moment he met you. He had planned to take you with him, to steal a few days away from the chaos and just be with you.

But now, he wasn’t even sure if you’d want to go. If you’d even want him.

Jensen exhaled sharply as he pulled up in front of your parents’ house, his pulse hammering in his ears. The lights inside were off, save for a small glow coming from what he assumed was the living room. His stomach twisted. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if this was a mistake?

Too late now.

He shoved the car into park, took a deep breath, and reached for the bouquet, the chocolates, and the envelope before stepping out into the cool night air. The gravel crunching beneath his boots sounded deafening in the silence. His heart pounded harder with every step toward the front door.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the wood, willing himself to knock.

Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he lifted his hand and knocked. Once. Twice. A third time, firm but not too loud.

A long, tense pause stretched out. Then, slowly, the porch light flickered on.

His breath hitched when the door creaked open. And there you were.

You looked smaller than ever, standing in the dim glow of the porch light, drowning in a huge shirt that hung loosely off your frame. Your bare legs peeked out beneath the fabric, your skin marked with the faintest goosebumps from the cool night air. Your hair was a tousled mess, like you had just woken up, and your eyes—red-rimmed, puffy—told him everything he needed to know. You had been crying.

His chest tightened painfully. He hated that. Hated that he had been the cause of those tears. Hated that you looked so exhausted, so fragile, as if carrying the weight of everything alone had drained the life out of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just stared at him, blinking slowly, like you weren’t sure if you were dreaming or if this was real.

Jensen swallowed hard, shifting the flowers slightly in his grip. “Hey”, he said softly, his voice rough with emotion.

You blinked again, your lips parting slightly. “Jensen?”. Your voice was hoarse, laced with disbelief, like you weren’t sure if you should be relieved or angry or something in between.

He let out a breath, nodding. “Yeah”.

Your fingers gripped the edge of the doorframe as if steadying yourself, your gaze flickering down for a split second to the roses, the chocolates, the envelope in his hand. A faint crease formed between your brows, confusion clouding your tired features.

“What… what are you doing here?”, you asked, your voice quieter now, like you weren’t sure you were ready for the answer.

Jensen exhaled slowly, forcing himself to hold your gaze. “I had to see you”.

You stood frozen for a moment, like you weren’t sure how to respond. Your body was stiff, your shoulders tense, like you were preparing for something painful.

Jensen’s grip on the flowers tightened. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on his feet. “I know it’s late”, he admitted. “And I know I should’ve given you more time. But I couldn’t wait anymore”.

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of your oversized shirt.

“I messed up”, Jensen continued, his voice raw. “I let you walk away, and I’ve been going crazy ever since. And I know—fuck, I know I don’t deserve to just show up like this. But I needed to see you. I needed you to know that I—”. He hesitated, looking down at the envelope for a beat before his eyes met yours again. “That I don’t want to lose you”.

Something flickered in your gaze, something so vulnerable and hesitant it made his stomach twist. “Jensen…”. You whispered his name like it hurt to say, like you were still guarding yourself from him. “I don’t—I don’t know if I can do this again”.

Jensen’s jaw clenched, his chest tightening. “I know”, he admitted, his voice thick. “But I do know that I love you. And I know that I want to try”. His breath shuddered. “If you let me”.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the doorframe a little tighter.

Silence stretched between you.

Jensen felt his heart pounding, waiting—praying—for you to say something.

Finally, you exhaled shakily, your lips pressing together before you spoke. “Come inside”, you whispered.

And his felt his entire body sag with relief.

Jensen wanted nothing more than to take you in his arms, to kiss you until you could barely breathe, to hold you so close that neither of you would ever feel that awful, hollow distance again. But he knew that would be wrong. He couldn’t rush this. Couldn’t expect things to go back to the way they were just because he showed up with flowers and whispered that he loved you.

So instead, he forced himself to step inside carefully, his hands still gripping the bouquet like it was the only thing keeping him steady.

You turned away, moving toward the kitchen, already searching through cabinets for a vase. Your movements were slow, tired, like your body was running on autopilot. He hated that. Hated that he had let things get to this point.

His gaze swept over the room, taking in the framed pictures on the walls, the cozy but modern furniture—things he had never seen before, reminders of a life you had built long before him. “Where are your parents?”, he asked after a moment, his voice low, careful.

“They’re out”, you murmured, pulling a clear glass vase from the cabinet and setting it on the counter. “Some concert in town. Knowing them, they’ll probably crash at a hotel and come back in the morning”.

Jensen nodded, shifting his weight. He wanted to say something—anything—to keep the conversation going, but the words stuck in his throat.

Instead, he watched as you filled the vase with water, gently placing the roses inside. Your fingers trembled slightly as you adjusted the stems, but you kept your focus on the flowers, avoiding his gaze.

Jensen exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to just show up like this”.

You let out a soft, humorless chuckle, finally turning to look at him. “You did drive three hours in the middle of the night, Jensen”.

He smirked slightly, shrugging. “Yeah, well. I figured subtlety wasn’t gonna cut it”.

Something flickered in your expression—something almost like the ghost of a smile—but it was gone just as quickly as it came. You sighed, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms over your stomach. “What are you really doing here?”, you asked softly.

Jensen swallowed hard. “I told you”, he said. “I needed to see you”.

Silence settled between you again, thick and heavy.

Jensen hesitated, then slowly—so slowly—took a step closer. “I, uh… I got you something”.

Your brows furrowed as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the envelope with the plane ticket inside. He held it out to you, his hand slightly unsteady.

You took it cautiously, glancing up at him before carefully pulling out the ticket. The moment your eyes scanned the words printed on it, you froze.

Maldives.

Jensen cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “I bought it weeks ago”, he admitted. “Before everything… before I screwed everything up. I wanted to surprise you”. He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it doesn’t fix anything, but I just… I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t thinking about you. About us”.

You stared at the ticket, your fingers tracing the edges, your lips slightly parted. “You remembered”, you whispered.

Jensen’s chest ached at the way you whispered those words—like you couldn’t believe it, like the idea that he had remembered something so important to you was a foreign concept now. “Of course I remembered”, he said softly, his eyes never leaving you. “You’ve been talking about going for forever”.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, still staring at the ticket like it was something too delicate to hold. Your fingers traced the edges, your mind racing, your heart pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

Jensen shifted closer, just a step, but enough that the space between you felt smaller. More intimate. “I don’t expect an answer right now”, he admitted, voice rough. “I just… I wanted you to have it. In case you wanted to go. In case you wanted to go with me”.

You finally looked up at him then, your tired eyes searching his. And for a long, silent moment, you just stared at each other.

God, he looked wrecked.

His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw covered in the kind of stubble that said he hadn’t been sleeping well. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it a thousand times on the drive here. He looked older, exhausted, like the weight of everything had finally crashed down on him.

And yet—there was something else there too. Something raw. Something real. Something hopeful.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head just slightly. “Jensen…”, you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I love you”, he said suddenly, the words tumbling out like he couldn’t hold them in anymore. His throat tightened, but he didn’t look away. “I love you so goddamn much, and I know I’ve been an asshole. I know I don’t deserve to just fix everything with some stupid plane ticket, but I don’t know what else to do”.

Your breath caught.

“I’m trying”, he continued, his voice breaking slightly.

Jensen took a shaky breath, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. His green eyes, so raw with emotion, stayed locked on yours. “I really am trying”, he said again, voice thick. “I know I can’t erase the past few months, I know I don’t get to just say sorry and make it all better. But I need you to know I’m trying”.

You felt your chest tighten, every wall you had built around your heart trembling under the weight of his words.

“I’ll do whatever you want”, he continued, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. “If you need more time, I’ll wait. If you want space, I’ll give it to you. If you want me to prove it—God, I will”. He swallowed hard, his throat working around the emotions threatening to break him.

Jensen finally, finally took that last step closer, close enough that you could feel his warmth, close enough that his voice dropped into something barely above a whisper. “Just… please”. His jaw tensed as his breath shook. “Please come home”.

Your fingers curled around the plane ticket, the edges pressing into your palm.

“You and our baby”, Jensen whispered, his voice breaking on the last word.

Your lips parted on a shaky inhale, tears welling in your eyes. Our baby. He had never said it like that before. Not like he meant it. Not like it was his too.

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, breaking apart the wall you had built around yourself piece by piece. Jensen stood right in front of you, one hand reaching for your hip, his eyes searching yours, desperate and vulnerable in a way you had never seen before.

He meant it. For the first time, you felt it.

Jensen swallowed hard, his thumb barely moving against your belly, the smallest, most careful stroke—like he was testing himself, testing this, seeing if he could really be the man you and your baby needed.

Tears spilled over your cheeks before you could stop them. A shaky exhale left you as you covered his hand with yours, pressing it just a little harder against your stomach.

Jensen sucked in a breath at the contact, his fingers twitching slightly under yours. His eyes flickered up to meet yours again, glassy, almost disbelieving.

“You…”. His voice wavered, his throat bobbing. “You still want this?”.

Your bottom lip trembled. You wanted to scream yes, to throw yourself into his arms, to tell him you had wanted this from the very beginning—that all you ever needed was this. But there was still fear lingering in your chest, still a small voice whispering what if?

So instead, you whispered, “Do you?”.

Jensen’s face crumbled. He let out a shaky breath, nodding almost immediately. “I do”, he said, his voice thick, raw. “I don’t have all the answers, and I know I’ve messed this up more times than I can count, but I swear to you, I want this”. His fingers curled slightly against your belly, his gaze flicking downward before returning to yours. “I want our baby. I want you”.

Your breath caught, the last bit of resistance in you cracking.

Jensen stepped even closer, his forehead nearly touching yours now. “I don’t deserve for you to come home”, he admitted. “But I’m asking anyway. I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you if I have to. Just… please don’t shut me out”.

Your chest ached, torn between everything you had felt for weeks and the undeniable truth staring you in the face now—Jensen wanted you. He wanted your baby.

Maybe he wasn’t perfect. Maybe he was still figuring it out. But so were you.

Your hand squeezed his, your tears still falling silently. “Okay”, you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips.

Jensen exhaled sharply, his whole body trembling. “Okay?”, he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, your forehead brushing his. “Okay”.

A broken laugh left him, half relief, half disbelief. And then, finally, finally, he kissed you.

Jensen’s lips moved against yours in a slow, aching way—like he was afraid if he let himself take too much, you might change your mind. Like this was fragile, like you were fragile.

And maybe you were. Maybe you were still terrified. Maybe you were still holding your breath, waiting for something to go wrong again.

But when Jensen’s hand cradled your face, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin, when he let out a soft, shaky breath like he was feeling you for the first time all over again, something inside you eased.

This wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a magical fix. But it was real. And for the first time in weeks, that felt like enough.

Jensen lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, his hands strong but gentle as they guided you into place. His knees nudged your legs apart, stepping between them, keeping you close—closer than you had been in weeks. His lips never left yours, never broke the slow, desperate kiss that felt more like a reunion than anything else.

His fingers slid along your back, pulling you flush against him, a quiet, shaky breath escaping his lips when he felt it—your belly pressing against his stomach.

It was small, but it was real. And it was his.

A shudder ran through him as he broke the kiss, just enough to glance down between you, his hands hesitating over your sides, like he was just now realizing how much had changed. His green eyes flicked up to meet yours, something raw and unreadable swirling in them.

But before he could say anything—before either of you could process the moment—there was a loud noise at the front door.

Then, voices. Laughter. And suddenly—“What the hell?!”.

Your stomach dropped as your parents stumbled into the kitchen, still high off the energy of their concert, but now frozen in place at the sight of you—legs wrapped around Jensen Ackles, perched on the kitchen counter like you were seconds away from being thoroughly compromised.

You never told them exactly who you were dating. And judging by the stunned, wide-eyed expressions on their faces, they were just now putting it together.

Jensen stiffened immediately, his hands instinctively shifting to steady you before he carefully—so carefully—set you back down on the floor. His jaw clenched as he stepped back slightly, running a hand through his messy hair, looking every bit like a man who had just been caught red-handed.

Your mom’s eyes flickered from Jensen to you, her lips parting slightly. “Oh”.

Your dad, on the other hand, had no such hesitations. His brows shot up, and he let out a short, breathless laugh—half disbelief, half seriously?! “So this is who you’ve been sneaking around with?”, he said, crossing his arms. “I thought you were dating some regular guy, not—”. He gestured vaguely at Jensen. “Him”.

Jensen cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh. Hi. I’m Jensen”.

Your mom sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “Oh, we know who you are”.

Your dad let out another short laugh, shaking his head. “Well, this explains a lot”.

You stood there, absolutely mortified, your face burning as your parents continued to process the sight of Jensen Ackles standing in their kitchen with you.

Meanwhile, Jensen looked just as awkward, already bracing himself for the inevitable—comments about the huge twenty-year age gap, or the fact that he was already divorced with kids. He was ready for skepticism, judgment, maybe even outright disapproval.

But instead—

Your dad smirked, arms still crossed. “So, what, you thought your mom and I weren’t trustworthy enough to know who you’ve been dating?”.

Jensen blinked, clearly caught off guard. Looking at you.

Your mom sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “I mean, really”, she said, pretending to look offended. “Did you think we’d freak out? Lock you away? Refuse to let you see him?”.

Your dad snorted. “We’re cool parents”.

Your eyes widened. “Okay, let’s not get carried away”.

Jensen let out a breathless chuckle, finally relaxing just enough to slip his hand into yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Yeah, uh… This is not how I thought this was gonna go”.

Your dad shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious that you’ve been sneaking around and we had no idea, but I mean… c’mon”. He nodded toward Jensen. “If you’re gonna date someone old enough to be your—”.

“Dad”, you groaned, covering your face with your free hand.

Your mom smacked your dad’s arm lightly. “Oh, stop”, she said, but she was clearly fighting a smile.

Jensen, to his credit, took it in stride, letting out a deep, amused sigh. “Yeah, I was waiting for that one”.

Your dad smirked. “Figured you were”.

Jensen exhaled, finally easing a little. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but this? This was somehow both better and way weirder than anything he had imagined. He squeezed your hand lightly, then cleared his throat.

“It wasn’t just about keeping it from you guys”, he admitted, glancing between your parents. “No one could know—not until my divorce was official. We had to keep everything quiet, even from family”.

Your mom’s eyes softened, and your dad nodded like that explanation made sense.

“Well”, your dad said after a beat, rocking back on his heels. “Still think it’s funny you didn’t trust us with it”.

You let out a small, exasperated sigh. “It wasn’t about trust”, you muttered.

“Uh-huh”. Your dad smirked. “Sure”.

Jensen chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “You guys are exactly how she described you”.

“Flattering, I’m sure”, your mom teased, finally stepping forward to give you a hug. “We’re just happy you’re happy”.

You let out a small breath, hugging her back. “Thanks, Mom”.

Just as the moment settled, the front door swung open again.

“We’re back!”. A familiar voice rang out, followed by the unmistakable sound of heels clicking against the floor. “And, God, that concert was amazing. I mean, did you hear them do that acoustic set? I swear—”.

Your aunt’s words died in her throat the second she stepped into the kitchen.

Her eyes landed on Jensen.

She froze.

You knew that look.

“Oh my God!”, she gasped, immediately gripping her husband’s arm so hard he actually winced. “That’s Jensen Ackles”.

Jensen blinked, visibly taken aback. You groaned. “Aunt Lisa”, you muttered.

“Oh my God!”, she repeated, ignoring you entirely. Her hand flew up to her chest, her eyes going wide with something close to awe. “You’re him! You’re Dark Angel! You’re Alec! I had posters of you!”.

Your uncle sighed, rubbing his temple. “Here we go”.

Jensen, despite everything, let out a surprised laugh. “Wow”, he said, shaking his head. “That’s a throwback”.

Your aunt turned to you, pointing dramatically. “You never told me you were dating Jensen fucking Ackles!”

You groaned again. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about”.

Lisa turned right back to Jensen, practically vibrating with excitement. “You have to sign something for me. I mean, oh my God. Dark Angel was my show. I even had the—”.

“Lisa”, your mom cut in, smirking. “Let the man breathe”.

Your aunt’s excitement hadn’t died down in the slightest, but as she turned to you, her eyes suddenly flickered downward, taking in the way Jensen’s arm had disappeared behind the small of your back, his fingers resting gently against you.

Her eyebrows shot up even higher, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “Ohhhh”, she drawled, pointing between the two of you. “So it’s not just dating-dating—this is a thing-thing”.

You stiffened slightly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, but Jensen’s grip on you tightened just enough to ground you.

Lisa’s eyes narrowed, her smirk widening. “You two are, like… really a thing”.

Your dad snorted. “Lisa, they just said they were together”.

But your aunt wasn’t done. Her eyes dropped just a little lower, to where your oversized shirt had shifted slightly, no longer doing as much to hide the small but undeniable curve of your stomach.

Her jaw dropped.

“Wait a damn second”.

You internally cringed, but before you could stop her, Lisa gasped dramatically, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my God, are you pregnant?!”.

Silence. Absolute, deafening silence.

Jensen’s hand reflexively pressed just a little more against your back, as if physically bracing himself. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding, but before you could even attempt to answer, your mom’s eyes widened as well.

“Oh my God!”, she whispered, glancing between you and Jensen.

Your dad’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, what’s—”. He followed their gaze, his eyes dropping down to you. Then, his whole face shifted in realization. His mouth opened, then shut, then opened again.

For the first time in your life, your dad was speechless.

Lisa, however, was not. “Holy shit”, she half-whispered, half-squealed. “You ARE pregnant”.

Jensen cleared his throat, finally breaking the silence. His voice was surprisingly steady when he spoke. “Yeah”, he said simply. “She is”.

Your mom exhaled sharply, stepping closer, her hands fluttering like she wasn’t sure if she should reach for you or give you space. “Honey, why didn’t you tell us?”.

You hesitated, glancing up at Jensen before looking back at your mom. “It’s… complicated”, you admitted softly.

Lisa blinked, then turned to Jensen with a serious expression. “You knocked up my niece and didn’t even meet us first?”.

Jensen let out a dry, almost nervous chuckle. “I mean, when you put it that way…”.

Lisa shook her head, then suddenly beamed at you. “You’re having a baby”.

And just like that, the shock melted into something else, something warm.

Your mom finally closed the distance, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “Oh, sweetheart”, she murmured. “I wish you’d told us sooner”.

Your dad was still staring, his mouth slightly open, but after a beat, he huffed, shaking his head as he rubbed his face. “Jesus”, he muttered. “Gonna need a drink”.

Jensen snorted under his breath. “Yeah, I get that”.

The moment your mom’s arms wrapped around you, the dam inside you broke. Your shoulders trembled as silent, uncontrollable tears started to stream down your face, soaking into the fabric of her shirt. You hadn’t even realized how much you’d needed this—how much you had craved someone holding you, telling you everything would be okay.

Jensen let go of you immediately, stepping back just slightly. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he watched you fall apart in your mother’s arms. He knew—God, he knew—how much it had killed you to keep this under wraps. And worse, how much he had made it harder by shutting himself off, by not being there when you needed him most.

Guilt twisted in his chest like a knife.

Your mom smoothed a hand over your hair, whispering something too low for anyone else to hear, but whatever it was, it only made you cry harder. She rocked you slightly, the way only a mother could, while your dad let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair.

“Well”, your dad muttered, turning toward the fridge. “That explains why there’s so much chocolate and junk food around since she’s been here”.

Jensen huffed out a quiet chuckle. “Yeah”, he admitted. “She’s been craving some weird shit”.

Your dad shot him a look as he pulled out a couple of beers, cracking one open before sliding another toward Jensen. “That’s your problem now, son”.

Jensen caught the beer and let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah”, he said, his voice softer. “It is”.

Your dad sat down at the kitchen table, studying Jensen for a moment before glancing toward you and your mom. Then his eyes flickered toward the roses still sitting in the vase on the counter, then back to you. His expression shifted—thoughtful, sharp. He wasn’t stupid. He’d known something was wrong when you showed up weeks ago, but you’d been careful. You never told them much, just that you and your boyfriend had a fight. Nothing more.

Now, with Jensen standing here, with you in tears, with the tension still thick between you both, he knew there was more to the story. “You never said who he was”, your dad muttered, taking another swig of his beer. “Not once”.

You swallowed hard, rubbing at your face as you pulled away from your mom. “Because it wasn’t about him”, you admitted, voice still shaky. “It was about… everything”.

Your dad’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he looked back at Jensen. His expression was unreadable, unreadable in that way only a protective father’s could be.

Jensen held his ground. He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. He just exhaled slowly and nodded, accepting the weight of your father’s unspoken judgment.

After a long, drawn-out silence, your dad sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Alright”, he muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Guess we’ve got a lot to talk about”.

Jensen nodded. “Yeah”, he agreed, his voice low. “We do”.

Later that night, the porch was quiet, the warm Texas air thick around you. Crickets chirped somewhere in the distance, and the faint scent of honeysuckle lingered in the air. You sat on the wooden steps, knees tucked up slightly, arms wrapped loosely around them.

Jensen sat beside you.

Neither of you spoke for a long while.

It wasn’t an awkward silence, not really. It was just… heavy. Like there was too much to say, too much to unpack, and neither of you knew where to start.

Jensen exhaled, his hands clasped between his knees. He glanced at you, hesitating for just a second before reaching out. His fingers brushed over the back of your hand, testing, waiting.

You didn’t pull away.

His palm slid fully over yours, his fingers threading through your own, squeezing lightly. When you finally looked at him, his green eyes were soft but serious.

“Are you coming home?”, he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened.

You wanted to. God, you wanted to. But you didn’t know if it was that simple.

You looked down at your hands, Jensen’s fingers still gently tangled with yours. The warmth of his skin was familiar, grounding, but it didn’t erase the storm inside you. Your breath hitched slightly as you whispered, “I don’t know. I just… I don’t know”.

Jensen inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw tightening for just a second before he nodded. He had expected that. He had prepared himself for it. But damn, it still hurt.

He squeezed your hand lightly, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral, to not let his desperation show. He couldn’t push you—not now, not when you were finally letting him back in.

Silence settled between you again, thick and loaded this time.

You hesitated, your fingers twitching against his before you finally whispered, “Can you stay the night?”.

Jensen’s breath caught. He turned to look at you, his green eyes searching yours, trying to gauge what you meant, what you wanted. His throat worked as he swallowed, his voice hoarse when he asked, “You want me to stay?”.

You nodded slowly, still looking down. “Just… just for the night. Well, what’s left of it”.

Jensen didn’t hesitate this time. “Yeah”, he murmured. “Yeah, of course”.

You exhaled, relieved that he didn’t question it, didn’t make it harder than it already was.

Still, Jensen wasn’t sure what this meant. Was it comfort? Was it a step toward fixing things? Or was it just the exhaustion in your bones, the need to not be alone tonight?

He didn’t know.

But he wasn’t going to waste the chance to be near you.

The bed was small—smaller than what either of you were used to—but somehow, that made it easier. There was no space to keep distance, no room to hesitate.

As you settled under the covers, Jensen moved cautiously, carefully. He didn’t rush, didn’t demand. Just… waited.

And when you didn’t pull away, when you let your body naturally lean into him, he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Slowly, so damn slowly, he draped his arm around you, his warmth sinking into your skin as he pulled you in just enough to feel you against him.

His lips ghosted over your temple, his breath warm as he whispered, “I love you. More than anything”.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

His voice was soft, raw, filled with an emotion that made your throat tighten. It wasn’t just words—it was a confession, a plea, a truth that had been buried beneath months of fear and mistakes.

You swallowed, your fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of his shirt before settling. You weren’t ready to say it back—not yet. But you didn’t move away.

Jensen felt it—the way you hesitated but stayed, the way your body instinctively curled into his, seeking his warmth even if your mind wasn’t sure yet.

His hand rested lightly over your belly, his fingers barely moving, just the faintest brush against the fabric of your shirt. It wasn’t hesitant this time. It wasn’t forced. It was grounding. Like he was trying to connect, to anchor himself to you—to this.

A long silence stretched between you, the only sound the soft rhythm of your breaths in the quiet room. You thought maybe he had drifted off, that exhaustion had finally won over him.

Then, his voice came again. Soft. Raw. Real. “Tell me about it”.

You blinked in the darkness, your chest tightening. “What?”.

Jensen exhaled slowly, his thumb tracing absentminded circles over your stomach. “The baby”, he murmured. “Tell me about it. How you feel. How…”. He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “How the baby is”.

For the first time, he wasn’t saying it like a burden. Like something he couldn’t deal with. For the first time, he really wanted to know.

You swallowed hard, your hand instinctively moving over his, resting there, holding him there. “It’s…”. You cleared your throat, trying to find the right words. “It’s weird. And amazing. And terrifying”.

Jensen nodded against you, listening. Hanging onto every syllable like it was something precious.

“I feel movings now”, you admitted, your voice softer. “Not big kicks yet, but little flutters. Like bubbles popping sometimes. It’s… surreal”.

His breath hitched slightly. You felt it more than heard it. “Flutters?”, he repeated, his fingers twitching against your belly. “Like… right now?”.

You smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah. Right now”.

Jensen’s whole body went still, completely focused on the quiet, unseen movements beneath his hand. His heart pounded so hard you could feel it against your back. “I don’t feel anything”, he admitted, his voice laced with something almost—longing.

You turned slightly, tilting your head to look at him, your fingers lacing with his. “You will”.

Jensen stared at you in the dim light, his green eyes searching yours for something he didn’t know how to name. “I want to”.

And you truly believed he did.

Jensen stayed quiet for a long moment, his forehead pressing lightly against the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. His fingers, still resting on your belly, curled slightly, like he was trying to hold on—trying to make up for all the time he had lost.

Then, barely above a whisper, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for this before”.

The words hit something deep inside you, cutting through the exhaustion, through the hurt that had settled in your bones for months. You swallowed, your throat tightening. “What changed?”, you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to ask the question.

Jensen took a slow breath, exhaling like he was bracing himself. Then, finally, he spoke.

“I thought I could keep a distance”, he admitted, his voice low, raw. “That if I didn’t let myself get attached, if I ignored it, it wouldn’t feel real. I thought…”. He shook his head against your shoulder. “I thought if I just pretended it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t change everything”.

You closed your eyes, listening, feeling the way his grip on you tightened slightly, like he was afraid to let go.

“But it is real”, he continued, his voice thick with something you hadn’t heard from him before—conviction. “And no matter how much I tried to push it away, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you”. He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I was so fucking scared. Scared of failing. Scared of starting over. Scared of—”. He hesitated, his voice breaking slightly. “Scared of loving something I might mess up”.

You felt your heart clench, your chest tightening as the weight of his words settled between you.

“But then I thought about you”, Jensen lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he whispered, “And I realized… I could never not love something that’s half you”.

Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of emotion washing over you.

“You are the best thing that ever happened to me”, he continued, his fingers pressing a little firmer against your stomach now. “And this baby—our baby—is half you. How the hell could I not love that? How the hell could I not want this?”.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, silent and unstoppable.

Jensen turned you slightly in his arms, just enough so he could see your face. His green eyes were glassy, full of something so raw and desperate it nearly broke you.

“I’m still scared”, he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I love you. And I love this baby. And I want this. I want you. I want us”.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you cradled Jensen’s face between your palms. His words—finally, finally—broke through the fear, the walls, the doubt. Every piece of you that had felt abandoned, uncertain, and alone suddenly felt tethered to him again.

So, you kissed him.

Desperate. Aching. Pouring everything into the press of your lips against his.

Jensen melted into you instantly, his hands gripping you, holding you like he’d never let go again. His fingers pressed into your waist, his body flush against yours, warmth radiating between you. The hesitation, the fear that had lingered for months, was gone.

This was different.

This was him finally touching you again—not just in passing, not out of obligation, but the way he used to. Like he adored you. Like you were his girl.

A small, shaky gasp left you as he kissed you deeper, more sure, his hands sliding up your sides. He turned you ever so gently onto your back, the movement careful, reverent, like he was rediscovering you. His lips never left yours, not for a second, not as he nudged your thighs apart with his knees, settling between them, his weight pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch.

Jensen hovered above you, his hands resting on either side of your head, his nose brushing against yours as he took a ragged breath. His green eyes, dark and blown wide, searched yours, silently asking for permission. For reassurance.

Your fingers slid into his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp, and you whispered, “Jensen, please”.

That was all it took.

A quiet, guttural sound rumbled in his chest as his lips found yours again, his hands finally roaming your body. His touch was familiar yet desperate, rediscovering the curves of your hips, the softness of your belly—the swell that was now undeniably there.

His breath hitched, his hand hesitating over your bump.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his. “It’s okay”, you whispered. “You can touch me”.

Jensen let out a shaky exhale before his palm flattened over your stomach, this time with intent. No hesitation, no avoidance. Just him fully accepting it—accepting you.

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips before trailing down your jaw, then lower, his breath warm against your skin as he murmured, “I love you”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Can I ask your thoughts on the boys and their favorite date ideas?

Ask and ye shall receive <3

Masterlist

Time: Forest dates to the MAX. Time grew up in the Kokiri forest, so he's definitely a bit biased in that regard, but decently old-school in terms of ideas. Loves long romantic walks while talking about nothing in particular, specifically when it's either a little later or earlier in the day because he's a secret sucker for watching the sun rise/fall. It keeps him Hylian.

Twilight: The type to randomly pull up in a horse-drawn carriage and offer you his hand like some kind of far-away prince (of our hearts!!!!). Like a good country lad, wolf boy pulls his full weight for any and all occasions, especially anniversaries, birthdays, or other miscellaneous romantic holidays.

Wild: Another forest date enjoyer, except his idea of a romantic getaway is pulling you, blindfolded, through the foliage while chattering about something or other. Astonishingly, the kidnapping vibes only enhance the mood. Definitely prepares a three-course meal that he procures from some random tree while you watch in awe, so prepare to be constantly surprised and concerned on dates with him!

Legend: Orchard dates anyone? Bunny boy has two things he's proud of: you and the orchard he's been maintaining for decades. Loves to make a day out of it too, where y'all pass the time doing various maintenance tasks and occasionally making out against a tree. Will bake an apple pie for you if he finds out you like it, then pretend to have no idea why there's a literal fucking pie cooling on the windowsill while wearing oven mitts and an apron.

Four: Plans dates down to the last minute because he just wants it to be perfect. Loves nature walks because he gets to see the Minish, and if you're close enough, he might even shrink you both to visit one of their villages.

Green: Takes chivalry very seriously, so expect surprise flower gifts and offerings of baked goods at least once a week. May also attempt to serenade you by learning some random instrument, though the rate of mastery varies. It's okay. We still love him.

Blue: Contrary to some of the others, Blue actively thirsts for your participation in his craft. He's not going to make you do any of the smithing, but his heart would definitely explode if you sat down in the "safe" corner of the forge while he was working just to hang out and chat.

Red: Anything and everything. He's got romance locked and loaded like a gun, so prepare to be quite literally whisked into his arms one day to do some innocuous activity that leaves both of you even more in love with each other.

Vio: A serial enjoyer of library dates. Probably has a little notebook stashed somewhere with so many ideas it'll make your head spin.

Warriors: Doesn't do public dates often purely because he's got the what can only be described as the hyrulean paparazzi stalking his every move, which tends to kill the romance a bit. That being said, he's not above putting on some generic clothes and pretending to be a fisherman from Lurelin, if only so the two of you can experience a consensual slice of daring <3

Sky: Like Hyrule, bird boy is a serial believer than anything can be a date if you look at it right, so prepare to be wooed every second of your relationship. Plays his harp near-constantly in your presence, and I'll eat my laptop if his loftwing Crimson isn't practically glued to your side. The type to sleep in on your anniversary, then reveal that he's planned an entire cruise-worthy itinerary with the determination of a Bond villain and charm of Hylia herself.

Wind (platonic): Anything that involves sailing is his jam, but can also be enticed into making (grandma's) stew if he's exposed to puppy eyes for long enough. Will absolutely teach you how to catch the most fish or pickpocket anyone under the sun, so every minute spent with him is well worth it <3

Hyrule: Fairy boy likes to keep things on the down-low on account of the literal cult hunting him down, but that doesn't mean he won't show you a great time. Lives and breathes by the saying that anything can be a date if you look at it right, so expect lots of impromptu romantic moments while running from bloodthirsty bitches or trudging through the market in search of that one item.

Dark Link: Probably doesn't do traditional dates because he's, yanno, public enemy number one, so prepare for a lot of couch snuggles and random gifts appearing around the house like the offerings of an overactive cat. That being said, he's a secret enjoyer of reading dates, so pull up a chair and a book and he'll be over the blood moon.

First: A literal knight in shining armor when it comes to dates. Will randomly show up at your house like the perfect gentleman with a bouquet of flowers, only to take you on a romantic walk or reveal that he's actually interacted with people to secure dinner reservations. Has the best table manners in the entire chain.

[dior-luxury]

SO HAPPY THAT YOU'RE OPEN TO WRITING ALMOST ANYONE SJDIW I ADORE YOUR WRITING SOSO MUCHH

the kiss and makeout scenario flipped with takeru, kirishima, natori, choji and sako (feel free to replace the first 2 with any keel members you find easier to write!!) would be so cute!!

— mimi ♡

They Suddenly Pull You Away To Make Out

PT.1 [choji . sako . natori . takeru . shiyu] PT.2 [chika . endo ]

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/romance - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] choji . sako . natori . takeru . shiyu

- [𝐩:𝐬] Mild Spiciness (suggestive content, not explicit) . Romantic/Physical Intimacy . Mild Language . Emotional Vulnerability . Heavy Romantic Tension . Non-Explicit Physical Intimacy . Possessiveness . Sudden Physical Contact . Emotional Intensity (jealousy, desire, tension)

Note: I LITERALLY ALWAYS WANTED TO WRITE FOR TAKERU- HE'S LIKE SO INSANE I LOVE HIMMM. I also made these a little spicy so enjoy 😛~

Choji Tomiyama

The sun was setting over the city, casting a warm, golden hue across the streets. You had just finished a long day and were walking home when you spotted Choji leaning against a lamppost, his signature orange Shishitoren jacket catching the fading light. His scruffy light beige hair was tousled, and that ever-present grin played on his lips as he spotted you.

"Hey, you," he called out, his voice laced with mischief. "Been waiting for you."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you in a few swift strides. His energy was palpable, a mix of excitement and something more intense. Without warning, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a nearby alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the bustling street.

"Choji, what are you—"

He silenced you with a finger to your lips, his eyes gleaming with a playful yet determined light. "Shh. Just needed a moment with you."

He pressed you gently against the cool brick wall, his hands resting on either side of your head. His proximity was overwhelming, his presence consuming. The scent of his cologne, mixed with the faint aroma of the city, filled your senses.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he murmured, his voice husky. "All day, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

His lips found yours in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was as if he was pouring all his emotions into that single act—his passion, his longing, his need. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as the world faded away, leaving just the two of you in that secluded alley. The distant sounds of the city became a mere backdrop to the symphony of your shared heartbeat.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. "I don't care if the world sees," he whispered. "But sometimes, I just want you all to myself."

He stepped back, his grin returning. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone spots us."

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and led you back onto the street, the warmth of his touch lingering long after.

Kota Sako

The golden hues of autumn painted the streets as you strolled beside Kota Sako, the crisp air carrying the scent of fallen leaves and distant jazz melodies from a nearby café. Dressed in his signature turtleneck and side gore boots, Sako exuded his usual calm demeanor, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes occasionally glancing your way with a subtle warmth.

As you both approached a secluded café terrace, he paused, his gaze fixed on the empty tables bathed in sunlight. "This spot's nice," he murmured, leading you to a corner table. The world seemed to slow down, the hustle of the city fading into the background.

Sako ordered his usual—café latte with three gomme syrups—and a slice of shortcake, his favorite. As you sipped your drinks, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from school to dreams of dessert tours in Paris.

Suddenly, his expression shifted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Without a word, he reached across the table, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. "Come with me," he whispered, standing up and guiding you through a side door into a quiet alley behind the café.

The secluded space was adorned with ivy-covered walls and the soft rustle of leaves. Sako turned to face you, his hands resting on your waist. "I've been thinking about this all day," he confessed, his voice low and earnest.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a tender yet passionate kiss. The world around you melted away, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the rhythm of your hearts beating in unison.

As the kiss deepened, his hands traced the curve of your back, pulling you closer. The cool breeze contrasted with the heat between you, creating a perfect balance that mirrored Sako's own composed yet intense nature.

After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. "You make everything better," he whispered, a rare vulnerability in his voice.

The moment lingered, a beautiful memory etched into the tapestry of your shared experiences, a testament to the depth of your connection with the enigmatic Kota Sako.

Shingo Natori

The sun dipped low behind the clustered skyline of Makochi, painting the streets in rich gold and molten pink. You were walking beside Natori, hand-in-hand as usual, though his thumb was tracing lazy circles against your skin like he was thinking about something. Something devious. His usual smirk played on his lips, but there was a distracted edge to it—his dark eyes occasionally flicked toward you with a glint that said he wasn’t entirely listening to whatever story you were telling.

Not that he ever needed much of a reason to get distracted by you.

“Keep talking, babe,” he said, voice low and smooth as he leaned down, lips ghosting near your ear. “I just like watching your lips move.”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile, shoving at his shoulder with mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he grinned, flashing that signature Natori confidence, “you keep walking next to me like you’re addicted.”

Before you could fire back a witty retort, he suddenly tugged your wrist with a little more force than usual. “Come with me.” He glanced back at you with that glimmer in his eye—mischief and intent rolled into one—and you barely had time to register what was happening before he was leading you down a narrow side street, out of the way of the main road.

“Natori, what—?”

You didn’t finish the question. He pushed you gently but firmly up against the side of a warm brick wall, pressing close, one arm braced above your head while the other slid around your waist. His body radiated heat. His smirk had softened now, not gone—never gone—but replaced with something darker, more intimate.

“You know,” he murmured, eyes locked on yours as his thumb brushed along the corner of your mouth, “I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

His mouth found yours with the kind of hunger that sent a jolt right through your chest—possessive, slow at first, teasing, like he was savoring the surprise on your face, the way you melted into him. His lips moved with practiced confidence, drawing little sounds from you he clearly adored, because you felt him grin into the kiss.

Then he deepened it.

His hand at your waist tugged you closer, fingers splayed across the small of your back like he was claiming territory. His hips pressed just enough to let you feel the strength he always carried in that wiry, biker’s frame—taut, coiled energy kept in check only barely.

He pulled back, barely, lips swollen and breath shallow. “God,” he whispered, eyes dark and hooded, “you taste like trouble.”

“You’re the one who dragged me into an alley,” you shot back, your voice unsteady, breath catching as he leaned down again, lips ghosting along your jaw.

He chuckled, low and smug. “Yeah. But you let me.”

His kisses trailed down your neck now—slow, teasing brushes of lips and the occasional flick of tongue just to feel you shiver under his touch. He wasn’t just trying to make out. He was trying to drive you crazy. And he was doing a damn good job of it.

“People could walk by,” you whispered, more out of instinct than concern, because your hands were already fisting into the back of his shirt.

“Let ‘em,” he murmured. “Maybe they’ll learn how to treat someone right.”

Natori’s voice dipped a little, husky, the bravado melting just slightly. His lips brushed your ear again. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

This time, he didn’t kiss you—he just looked at you. Really looked. All that cocky attitude and playful charm paused for just a beat, and you saw the sincerity behind it—the real reason he’d pulled you away. Not just lust. But want.

Craving.

The kind that said, I need you right now, not later. Not somewhere safer or quieter. Right here, because I can’t wait.

He kissed you again—slower this time, deeper. More raw.

And you understood.

Takeru Kongo

You had only meant to stop by the KEEL hangout to drop off the bento you’d made for Takeru. It was late afternoon, the sun lazily dipping beneath the skyline, casting orange streaks across the graffiti-sprayed walls of the abandoned warehouse KEEL had turned into its unofficial clubhouse. You weren’t expecting a scene—certainly not a crowd.

But of course, Takeru was holding court again.

He was in the center of a half-circle of KEEL members, arms flailing, voice at full blast. His animated retelling of some run-in with another team had everyone either laughing or rolling their eyes.

“You should’ve seen their faces!” he roared, finger jabbing the air. “I strutted up like this—you know, real smooth—and they totally freaked. I had ‘em pissing themselves before I even threw a punch!”

Someone coughed, suspiciously close to a laugh.

You leaned against the wall, amused. He hadn’t seen you yet, but you watched him with that familiar affection—an idiot, your idiot, puffing himself up like a peacock on adrenaline. But you knew better than anyone that half the story was probably made up, and if there was a confrontation, he’d sent in someone else to throw punches.

Still… he was magnetic in his own way. Loud, unpredictable, and completely incapable of subtlety.

Then he spotted you.

You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe a cheeky grin, a cocky “Hey babe��—but what you got was a sudden break in his swagger. His mouth hung open for a beat before he dramatically tossed a gangly arm over his shoulder.

“ALRIGHT, everyone beat it! That’s enough story time. Show’s over!” He waved the others off like he was swatting flies. “Get some practice in or whatever. Don’t just stand there like extras!”

A few muttered protests, some teasing whistles as they dispersed.

He jogged over to you with that same bouncy, overconfident stride he always used when trying to look cool. When he got close, he smirked, reaching out to tug your hand.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, though his eyes were already on you, not the bento. “Made me lunch, huh? You do like me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Takeru. You sent me seven texts. And a voice memo. Of you crying.”

“Pfft—dramatic effect,” he scoffed, guiding you further into the warehouse. “That’s how you keep the romance alive, duh.”

Before you could quip back, he suddenly yanked you behind one of the rusted support beams, pressing your back against the cold metal. The movement was fast—too fast—and your breath caught. He was close, way closer than usual, his frame boxing you in. His wild, dyed-blond hair caught the golden light from the window just right, and for a second you saw something unguarded in his eyes.

“Takeru?” you asked softly.

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

No preamble, no warning—just the heat of his mouth on yours, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with surprising gentleness. The kiss was messy, eager, like he’d been thinking about doing it all day and was finally giving in.

He broke away for a second, panting slightly. “I—I dunno. I just—” His voice cracked, like his brain hadn’t caught up with his body. “You looked too good, alright? I got all weird.”

You blinked, stunned—but not upset. Your lips tingled.

Then you smirked.

“You got weird? Takeru, you dragged me behind a beam like a horny cartoon character.”

“I am a sexy bad boy,” he said, regaining some of that swagger, though his ears were pink. “And I’ll do it again, too, so don’t test me.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers through the strands of his hair, tugging him close again.

“Then shut up and do it.”

That was all he needed. He dove back in, less showy now, more intent. This time his kiss slowed down, his hands firm on your hips. His bravado melted just a bit with each second, revealing the fluttery nerves he always tried so hard to hide. But it didn’t make him any less hot—it made him real. Vulnerable in a way you knew was rare.

His lips broke away from yours only to trail along your jaw, his breath hot against your skin. “Damn,” he whispered, “you make me wanna do dumb shit.”

“You already do dumb shit,” you whispered back.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly, forehead pressing to yours. “But you make it feel worth it.”

For once, he didn’t have anything else to say.

And for once, you didn’t need him to.

Shiyu Kirishima

The last rays of sun scattered lazily across the horizon, casting golden fire over the rooftops of Makochi. You’d only just left the Bofurin base, your hands still warm from Shiyu’s as you slipped out of the building first, trying to hide your flushed face and racing heart. Shiyu had been… intense today.

Not in the way that others saw—he wasn't snapping at anyone or fighting with his usual silent fury. No, today it was the way his eyes lingered on you across the room longer than usual, the slight clench of his jaw when someone got too close, the way his fingers tapped against his knee while he watched you laugh with Jo.

There was a tension simmering under the surface of him—like a thunderstorm just waiting to rip across the sky.

You turned down the alley shortcut home, feet quick, a little nervous. You hadn’t even taken three steps into the narrow backstreet when bam—a sudden pull at your wrist stopped you cold.

You barely got out a gasp as you were spun around, back hitting the cool concrete wall, your eyes locking instantly with narrowed, steel-gray ones that always burned too hot and too deep. Shiyu towered over you now, the scent of cigarettes and that subtle citrusy cologne you always liked curling around your senses.

“What the hell’s your deal tonight?” you murmured, heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

His voice was low, raspier than usual, like he'd been holding it back all day. “You seriously think you can walk away like that—after the way you’ve been looking at me?”

You blinked, heat crawling up your neck. “Looking at you how?”

His lips twitched—half-smirk, half-snarl. “Like you wanted me to lose control.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

His hand slid around the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance between you. His other hand braced against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in as his mouth moved over yours—demanding, possessive, but controlled in that signature Shiyu way. Like he knew exactly how far to push, how much pressure would make you melt without losing himself completely.

But he was close.

You could feel it in the way his breathing got heavier, in the growl he tried to suppress when your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket and pulled him closer.

“This why you were so tense all day?” you whispered between kisses, dazed, breathless.

“Don’t push your luck,” he warned, voice hoarse, but there was no bite to it. His lips brushed over the line of your jaw, your throat. “You’re lucky I waited this long.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

The alley was quiet but for the distant hum of traffic, the world narrowed to just him—the heat of his chest against yours, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulled back just a little, eyes studying you like he was memorizing every flush, every gasp.

“I don’t care who’s around,” he murmured, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, eyes hooded. “Next time you try walking off without saying goodbye, I’ll drag you back in front of the whole damn team.”

You laughed breathlessly, leaning into him. “You’re kinda crazy, y’know that?”

He smirked, finally letting his forehead rest against yours. “Only for you.”

[asce-of-hearts]

Could I request Itachi or Sasuke with 🐕 Once I have you in my arms, I'm never letting you go, 🍁 You belong to me and only me and 🦔 Because you're all mine, I won't hand you over to anyone. If it can be only one you can choose any of the ones I chose. thank you

Grievance

Contents: Yandere!Itachi with prompts: 🐕🍁🦔

more Itachi content here

TAG LIST

PROMPT LIST

WARNINGS: SOFT YANDERE, OBSESSIVE AND POSSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, IMPLIED KIDNAPPING.

A scroll is delivered to your doorstep. You recognize the handwriting.

"My dearest ___,

Do not alert of my presence to anyone. I know I'm a bad man, I know I don't deserve forgiveness, but in truth, I don't care too much about that. What I do care for is my wish to see you, and to fulfill a promise I made a long time ago, when I was something entirely different to the monster I am today.

Please, do not be afraid. I do not wish to hurt you or your family. I only wish to see you once more. Although, I feel obligated to warn you, once I have you in my arms, I'm never letting you go.

Sincerely yours,

Itachi"

Your eyes grow damp at those words. Itachi seems like a stranger to you in that moment. The man who killed his clan and left, disappearing in the night. You remember him, you remember how he didn't leave without saying goodbye. You remember he told you to not mind the stench of blood that plagued him in that moment, that he told you to stay quiet, and to wait, because he would be back for you.

That promise seems so distant. And even so, when you read those words, you can't help but hope he comes back soon.

The night is cold, summer heat transitioning into autumn coolness. And the moon is full, and your hopes are slowly getting crushed. Why would he come back? He hasn't been near you in years, and now all of the sudden he's interested in seeing you once more? Foolish. You're a foolish girl for believing a man like him, a criminal, a murderer, a... a sight for sore eyes.

"You came." As soon as those words leave your lips you throw yourself in his arms. You don't care if he might stab you and kill you in that moment, you can only think of his warmth and his love and his promises. He came back, he really did. He's standing there, tall and menacing, in the middle of your room.

"I'm a man of my word," He whispers, his lips pressing against yours in a firm caress. And you cling to him, afraid he might be an ilussion, that he might dissapear in any moment. His red eyes darken, going back to the dark grey you grew so familiar with. "I would never lie to you, ___." He cups your face with his hands, rougher and more calloused than you remember them, his expression serious. "But... It's time for us to leave, ___. We can't stay here for much longer."

"Eh? But you just arrived? And... leave... us?" You are confused, and he only gives you an indulgent smile in response, as enigmatic as always.

"I cannot leave you here on your own. I cannot leave you here knowning you might be promised to someone else one day. You're beautiful, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And to think... to think some other man could have you, I can't stand the thought," His grip on your face tightens just enough for you to feel a little scared. "You belong to me and only me."

Your expression clouds with something akin to anger, and you don't know what to say without blowing up.

"You disappeared for years, Itachi. You have done... unspeakable things," You exhale, a dark, shaky chuckle leaving your lips. "And now... after years of letters as the only confirmation that you were still alive. You... you want to take me with you? Why?"

"Because you're all mine, I won't hand you over to anyone." He's being blunt, sincere. "I would rather destroy this village before letting you be wedded to another useless man who won't be able to care for you, to protect you, to do things like I could."

"And what if I refuse?" You say, and his gaze softens, eyes glowing red once more.

"I'm afraid you don't have that choice, my love."

hope you enjoyed this!!!!!!!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @mimihaitani @bad4amficideas @janeisnotonline @architectofsuffering @thatoneweirdkidattheplayground @poopooindamouf @staarflowerr @starberryzos @kaylarilla @mallowryblog @whatupbishs @dreamcastgirl99

[mistress-skywalker]

♱ 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚎 𝙵𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝙸 𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚂𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍 ♱

(𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎)

So I’ve been working on this (so sorry about the fall off on the next chapter of my fic. I’m editing that currently and finishing my last couple requests!). I’ve got a second part for this drafted as well. Just a small little thing that’s given me brain worms! Hope you enjoy it! Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

Warnings: blasphemous themes throughout obviously || smut || fem reader || manipulation || my knowledge of the Catholic Church || masurbation/talk of masturbation and sex

Credit to whoever originally thought of Father Anakin

The wooden doors groan as you step inside, the heavy scent of incense curling through the stillness like smoke through a dream. The light slants in sharp golden bars through stained glass, throwing color across the rows of empty pews. The air is cool, almost damp. Quiet enough that your own breath feels too loud.

It’s your first time in a Catholic church. Everything feels… foreign. Reverent, yes, but alien. You move slowly, unsure of where to go, what to do, afraid of doing something wrong.

But he sees you.

From across the altar, Father Skywalker watches.

He’s young. Too young for what you imagined a priest should be. Maybe mid thirties, striking in his black cassock, dark hair curling at the nape of his neck, lips too soft for a man who speaks of sin. His eyes are an unnatural, gleaming blue. They pin you in place.

He smiles gently. Welcoming. You don’t know why it makes your skin prickle.

“You’re here for confession?” His voice is low, silken. Not what you expected. It sounds like temptation.

You nod mutely.

He gestures toward the confessional booth. “Go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment.”

You sit stiffly in the dim booth, the lattice screen between you giving a thin illusion of privacy. The red light flicks on. You hear the rustle of his cassock as he takes his place on the other side.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…” he begins, voice velvet-smooth. You fumble to follow, but he doesn’t wait.

“Tell me,” he says, after a beat of silence. “What brings you here, my child?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit, embarrassed. “I’m… new to all this. I thought maybe… it would help.”

“Help with what?” he asks, quickly. Too quickly. Like he’s already been waiting for you to say something he wants to hear.

You shift. “I don’t know. I’ve just…done some things I’m not proud of. I thought maybe confessing would make me feel clean again.”

He hums, like he’s heard that before. Like he likes the sound of your shame.

“Tell me what you’ve done.”

You pause, unsure. “I-..I don’t know where to start.”

“That’s alright.” His voice drops, lower now. More intimate. “Did you touch yourself recently?”

You blink. “I- what?”

“It’s a common struggle,” he says smoothly, as if you’re the one making it strange. “Carnal temptation. Physical impurity. Don’t be ashamed.”

Your cheeks burn. You look around like someone might hear. “I-..I guess. Yeah.”

“Where were you?” he asks. “In your bed? The shower?”

You freeze, heart beating faster. The question feels wrong, but maybe you’re just being overly sensitive. You don’t know how this is supposed to go.

He chuckles softly when you don’t answer right away. “You can tell me. You should tell me. That’s the only way you can be forgiven.”

Your hands twist in your lap, your thighs pressing together involuntarily. You can feel your heartbeat behind your eyes.

“In bed,” you say finally, barely above a whisper.

There’s a pause on the other side of the screen. You can hear him breathe in, slow, deliberate. Like he’s savoring it.

“How often?” he asks, voice calm, gentle. Nonjudgmental. That makes it worse somehow.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “A few times a week, maybe.”

“And when you do it… do you think of anyone?”

Your stomach tightens. This can’t be part of confession. Can it?

“I…” You hesitate. “I thought I was just supposed to list my sins.”

He chuckles, warm, soothing, like he’s amused by your naivety. “You are. But confession is not just about listing sin. It’s about understanding it. Facing it. I can’t help you find forgiveness if you don’t let me see the full shape of your struggle.”

He leans closer. You can feel it, even though you can’t see him.

“Now tell me,” he says. “Who do you think about?”

You swallow hard. “Just…people I’ve seen. Strangers. Sometimes people I know. Celebrities.”

“Men?”

You nod, then remember he can’t see. “Yes.”

“That’s natural,” he murmurs. “We were made to feel longing. Even those of us who’ve taken vows.”

You glance at the wooden wall of the booth, startled. “You mean you…?”

“I’m still a man,” he says simply. “Even in this collar.”

The silence between you hums with something you don’t recognize. Something heavy and charged.

“Have you ever touched someone else?” he asks. “Or let them touch you?”

You shake your head, embarrassed. “No. I’ve never-..been with anyone.”

He hums again. This one lower, almost pleased. “Good girl.”

The words drop into your stomach like a stone.

You feel flushed, confused. Ashamed, but not for the reasons you expected. You thought confession would leave you feeling lighter. Instead, you feel strangely exposed, seen in a way that doesn’t feel holy.

“Is this really how confession works?” you ask, your voice unsure.

There’s a pause.

“For those who truly seek to be clean,” he says, “we go deep. It’s not just about reciting sins. It’s about revealing them. You came here for a reason, didn’t you?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“You felt drawn here,” he continues. “To me.”

You pause. “…I guess.”

“You don’t have to guess, little one. You feel it.” His voice is silk, sticky and cloying now, even though it stays quiet and reverent. “There’s something inside you that wants to be seen. Known. Even the darkest parts.”

You say nothing, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“I can help you,” he says. “But you’ll need to trust me. Can you do that?”

A long silence stretches between you.

“…Yes,” you breathe.

“Good girl,” he says again, softer this time. “Come back tomorrow.”

𓆩♱𓆪

The sun hangs low, casting the interior in long, honeyed shadows. The stained glass windows are darker now, cooler. The hush inside feels different tonight, not sacred, but expectant.

You didn’t plan to come back. Not really. But all day, his voice has haunted you. That good girl whisper tangled around your ribs. The way he spoke, so gently, so confidently, like he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You sit in the pew farthest from the altar, heart racing. You don’t move toward the confessional right away.

But then he appears.

Father Skywalker steps into the sanctuary from a side door. His eyes sweep the space, and find you immediately.

He doesn’t smile this time. He just nods, slowly. You stand. Like you’ve been summoned.

The confessional door opens. You slip inside again. The quiet is somehow louder tonight.

The red light flicks on. A breath from the other side. He’s here.

“Welcome back, little one,” he murmurs, like you’re a gift.

You don’t say anything.

“Did you think of me after you left?”

You blink. “Is that… part of confession?”

“I’m asking,” he says gently. “Did you?”

A long pause.

“…Yes.”

You hear him exhale slowly. “I knew you would.”

Silence again. You can hear your own heartbeat.

“I need to confess something,” you say, your voice small.

His tone doesn’t change. “Go ahead.”

“I lied yesterday.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “About what?”

“I said I’d never been with anyone. That wasn’t true.”

Another pause. You feel the weight of his attention sharpen, like heat under a magnifying glass.

“Go on.”

“It was only one person,” you say quickly. “Just… someone I used to know. It wasn’t-..it didn’t mean anything.”

His voice is calm, but firmer now. “Why did you lie?”

“I don’t know.” You swallow. “I guess I wanted to seem… better. Cleaner.”

“You think purity is about numbers?” he asks. “It’s not. It’s about the heart. The soul.”

He leans in again, barely a breath in your ear. “Did he hurt you?”

You freeze.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Not…physically. But it wasn’t good. It didn’t feel safe. I didn’t want it the way he did.”

“I see.” His voice is quieter now. Almost reverent. “And afterward, did you feel shame?”

“…Yes.”

“You still do.”

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You nod. “Yes.”

“That’s what drew you here,” he murmurs. “You want someone to take it from you. The shame.”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I can,” he says. “But you’ll have to give it to me. All of it. Piece by piece.”

You nod again. You don’t trust your voice.

“Good girl,” he says, softer now. Like a secret.

You hear the booth creak as he leans forward.

“Next time, I want you to tell me everything about him. What he did. What you let him do. Where he touched you. What you felt.”

Your stomach tightens again, shame and anticipation warring in your chest.

“Can you do that for me?” he asks.

“…Yes.”

“Atta girl.”

Then, just before the red light clicks off, you hear him whisper one final thing: “Don’t you see? This is already working. You’re already becoming clean.”

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

//Taglist!! @zapernz @moonlightkb @anisangeldust @xx-ttamaraa @estranged-girl (lmk if you want to be added or removed!!)\\

[justnatoka]

Not so smooth anymore

Dwayne x GN! Reader

A/n: Here you go @poubelle-d-elle, here's a little something for awkward/shy Dwayne as I promised😊 Quick note: this is very silly.

Word count: 896

For the first time, Dwayne is not the smooth one in a conversation.

Dwayne was attractive, and he was very much aware of it. He had a nice physique, a handsome face and a pretty smile – it made hunting all the more easy, whether it was for dinner or a companion for the night.

He had game too. He wasn't so heavy-handed with the flirting like Paul, he was much more subtle. A compliment here, a charming look there, and girls and guys and anyone in between were ready to follow him to any secluded spot. Some of them lived to tell their friends in excited whispers about the best night of their lives. Some of them weren't so lucky.

Tonight, he was on the prowl again. It didn't take long to spot someone to his liking. They were a pretty thing with a nice figure and a cool style – or at least as far as he could tell from their back. They were casually leaning on the railing at the edge of the boardwalk, watching the people on the beach down below, occasionally taking sips from their milkshake.

Dwayne walked over with confident strides and joined them. At the movement to their right, they turned to him, and suddenly Dwayne froze.

They were the most attractive person he’s ever seen. Beautiful eyes shining bright under the colorful lights around them, with lips so perfect he wanted to kiss them silly right then and there, their face framed just right with locks of hair he desperately wanted to run his fingers through. And then the corners of their eyes crinkled, their lips turning into a stunning smile with just a hint of mischief.

Just like that, Dwayne was a goner.

“Hi,” you greeted him, and it took him a second to realize you said something; he was too engrossed in admiring you.

“Hey,” he replied just a moment too late not to make it sound awkward.

He noted with surprise that he was panicking. He was desperately looking for something to say, but it was like his brain just shut off. This has never happened before. He was quickly realizing that he was severely out of his depth here. In the end, all he managed was a “You come here often?”

You snorted, and he wanted to slap himself.

“You know, for a guy with your looks, you would think you have more game than that,” you teased, but there was no malice in your voice.

Did you just call him attractive? He had no idea, and he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Even though he messed this up right at the beginning, you were still here, still smiling and talking to him. He took that as a good sign.

“I don’t.”

He stared at you blankly, clearly lost. Your amused smile turned just a bit wider.

“The answer to your question. I don’t come here often. Just moved here in fact.”

Oh, so that’s what you meant. He felt himself becoming more and more flustered.

“Maybe you could show me around sometime.”

Now he understood what it felt like to fall under someone’s charm in just a few seconds. He couldn’t believe his luck. He was fumbling this so hard and you still wanted to meet him again?

He flashed you a smile and tried not to sound too eager as he replied, “Sure, I would like that.”

You fished out a pen from one of your pockets, took one of his hands in yours and started scrawling on the back of it. He had a hard time concentrating on what you were doing, the feeling of your hand against his was sending sparks to his brain.

The moment was over all too soon, and you were already drawing back. Then, with a playful smile and a “Call me”, you were gone, swallowed by the crowd like a beautiful apparition. The whole interaction lasted for only a few minutes. For a second, he couldn’t be sure it even happened, that he didn’t just make you up in his head. But as he finally looked down at his hand, there was your number, and more importantly, your name. He caught himself whispering it out loud, liking the way it sounded on his tongue.

Oh, he was so in love.

Extra:

When he came back to the boys empty handed, a dopey grin on his face, they instantly knew something was going on. David and Paul shared an incredulous look, not used to seeing their friend so out of it. But Marko was all too happy to supply the answers.

“Sure, I would like that. What’s wrong with you, dude? You sounded like a teenage girl with a crush,” he cackled, and Dwayne realized, mortified, that he had witnessed at least part of their interaction.

“What’s up, big man? Someone got you whipped?” Paul joined the teasing.

“Oh he’s whipped alright. You should have seen it, man. All it took was a pretty face and he clammed up so hard. It was kind if pathetic,” Marko added. He still giggled like the little gremlin he is as he dodged the punch throws his way.

At last, Dwayne felt David’s hand come down on his shoulder, and his friend turned to him with an understanding look.

“It’s okay,” he started. Finally some sympathy. “We’ll still like you. Even as a pathetic, lovesick loser.”

He seriously hated these guys sometimes.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus @000-colby @lunarwhitewolf7 @notalwaysa @binightowl @darlingnikkisixxxx @skrimblo-blumpkgo @wpdarlingpan @gibzzsworld @thelostboysforeva @vxncevis @thelostsimp @sireanmagne @acotar-lover @unwhollywater @fanofgunsnroses

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

[runninriot]

Devotion (Pretty On My Knees)

written for the @steddiesongfics may prompt and as fill for the @steddiebingo prompt: pool

song inspo: Devotion by KiNG MALA | wc: 4.895 | rated: E | tags: exhibitionism, voyeurism, sexual content, confident (read slutty) Steve Harrington, not so innocent Eddie Munson | complete fic and tag list on ao3

It's late, the darkness outside only broken by the blueish shimmer illuminating the pool, and the faint silver light of the half-moon shining from a clear, starry sky. The summer air is warm, a gentle breeze hushing through the treetops nearby, caressing his skin as he unties the knot around his waist and lets the robe slide down his shoulders.

Steve steps out of the heap of fabric around his feet, slowly and with intent, every single motion calculated, every move a little self-inflicted punishment of the best kind.

At the edge of the pool he stops, stretches his arms and neck, rolls his shoulders and his hips to loosen his tense muscle before descending the steps leading into the shallow end.

The water welcomes him with a bite, no signs left of the past day's heat as the cool wet envelopes his naked body, sending rippling shivers into every part of him. But Steve doesn't mind the cold, rather appreciates the side effect of tempered excitement - no need to get ahead of himself, to give it all away at once.

After a few unhurried strokes, he turns on his back in the middle of the pool. Floats with his legs straight and both arms spread wide, his chest and other parts of him peeking out from the water's surface, offering a perfect view.

His eyes are closed but he doesn't need to see to know he's being watched.

All lights in the other house are out and the window shut but the curtain was already drawn back just enough when he caught sight of it earlier.

Steve knows he’s there. Knows he couldn’t resist, never can. It almost makes this game too easy but that doesn’t make it less fun. Doesn’t mean Steve isn’t going to keep playing it until he finally breaks.

He, the gorgeous man who moved in next door just a couple of months ago. Possibly in his late thirties, definitely single, apparently a writer - that’s what the nosy hags Mrs Smith and Mrs McFarland from down the road claim anyway.

No one really knows. Because Eddie Munson keeps to himself, never talks to anyone.

But he watches.

And Steve’s happy to let him.

He loves the attention. Would love it even more if the guy would finally come out of hiding and do something about the undeniable tension that has been crackling, and building, and growing between them since they started this fun little game.

A self-satisfied smile tugs at his lips when he thinks back to the moment he finally caught Munson’s attention. Remembers him standing at the open window overlooking Steve’s yard, smoking, seemingly lost in thoughts until eventually, their eyes met.

That was when Steve knew he had found his perfect match. Because instead of the surprised reaction he expected from the other man – maybe paired with the hint of a humiliated blush – Eddie didn’t even blink.

Didn’t seem startled or embarrassed. Didn’t turn away or at least pretend to feel bad for invading Steve’s privacy. Seemed strangely unfazed by the sight of the young man sprawled out on the deck chair, his sun-kissed skin bare beneath a sheen of sweat. Unashamedly exposed, committed to the stranger’s prying gaze.

There was this strange sense of recognition in the other man’s expression, a content softness flitting over his features like a visual sigh of relief when he took in Steve’s form.

Dark, hungry eyes following the smooth lines and luscious curves of his body. Feeding on his unfiltered beauty and barely existent flaws. Savouring the honey-sweet taste of forbidden desire and shamelessly tearing apart the dignity Steve had no intention to preserve.

Ready to give Eddie everything.

Every perverted little piece of him. All the sins he’s longing to commit without ever wanting to ask for forgiveness. Down on his knees, yes, but not to seek salvation or beg for mercy.

In fact, he wants quite the opposite. Wants Eddie to take what shouldn’t be his to take. Wants to be owned and used. Wants more than just greedy eyes on him, to be seen.

Steve wants Eddie’s hands and lips and whatever he hides inside his tight-fitting jeans. Wants to be touched and filled.

And he knows Eddie wants it, too, despite his restraint.

That’s why he keeps coming back for more.

Patiently waiting for another glimpse. Another peek at all the things he could have but never claims.

Never demanding anything, never actively participating in Steve’s well-rehearsed show but always there, in the front-row seat that is only reserved for him. Always watching but never calling for the encore Steve would be happy to give.

-----

continue reading here

[askthehedgehogs]

[mod I can’t handle Shadow’s sad face! Please please give him a hug! He deserves a hug!]

Sonic I’m sorry the other anon upset you with their question! We know you wouldn’t leave him over that!

How about this; if Shadow couldn’t use his skates (assume they’re being repaired or something) would you carry him in your arms, or like a piggy bag to take him for a run? Maybe even dig out the old extreme gear and take him for a ride?

- ✨

Aheh, I... Probably should not have snapped at them. That wasn't cool. I just... I know it's something he's been worried about before, and I don't want anyone putting that idea back in his head. Yeah, the fact that he could keep up with me was the first thing that drew me to him, but that was a lifetime ago. I love the guy.

Whoops, sorry for yapping—yeah, I like carrying him bridal style~ sometimes if he's having a bad day I'll carry him around like that. I mean, there's no point getting him all achey if we're just running to a nice picnic spot or something. Taking him for a ride on the ol' Extreme Gear could be fun.