#show me your ratings netflix show them i dare you

[sad-girl-hours23]

I Know The Last Page So Well, I Can't Read The First

For the @tevanadvent2024 Day One: Beginnings

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Rating: G

I’m so sick of endings.

Lately, Tommy’s life has been nothing but endings. 

First, his relationship with Evan. (Tommy’s not the forever guy, he knows that story all too well).

Then, his favorite show on Netflix was cancelled. Again. Why he bothers to get invested anymore is beyond him. 

He nearly cried in the middle of a Baskin-Robbins when he found out his favorite flavor of ice cream had been put in the deep freeze. The girl behind the counter looked far too concerned for his well-being.

It was a sad state of affairs.

He heard from Lucy that Eddie’s moving to Texas. It stings, even if he’d all but left their friendship in limbo these past few months.

And then…his dad. Tommy’s never experienced a loss so fraught with complications and contradictions.

It’s his last day of bereavement leave and he’s eating alone at his favorite restaurant, alongside what feels like half of Los Angeles. He’s tucked away in a booth far larger than is appropriate for his sad reservation of one, but with the specters of his past, he’s not alone.

He’s picking at mushrooms on his pizza when somebody slides into the booth.

He wonders briefly if this marks the ending of his sanity. 

As if the sheer power of his wanting has conjured an apparition of the man he loves.

Evan doesn’t stop sliding until their sides are pressed together. He’s here; real, and warm, beside him.

“Evan, what are you —”

Evan ducks his head. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

Tommy nods. “Thank you. I assume Lucy told you.”

“Yeah, but I wish you had.”

“I didn’t think, I mean, I don’t get to —”

Evan places his hand over Tommy’s. “But you do, Tommy. I would have been there for you. You still don’t get it do you?”

Tommy tries to suppress the embers of hope burning within him, they’ll only end in smoke and ash. “Get what?”

“I —” Evan’s phone chimes with a text and he looks towards the main room. “Look…can we talk later?”

Tommy hesitates. He should make a clean break, he knows. He won’t have the strength to walk away a second time. He forces a smile. “Of course. I’m sure you have someone to get back to. You shouldn’t waste your time with me and my misery.” 

“Well you know what they say about misery.”

Before Tommy can reply, Eddie’s sliding into the booth on his other side, followed by Howie, Hen, and Bobby. 

“What —”

Tears well up in his eyes as Hen takes his hand in hers. He can’t find it in him to be ashamed when he sobs as Eddie puts his arm around his shoulders and squeezes, says, “we got you, man.” 

Howie grins. “Bet no one was expecting dinner and a show.”

“Chim,” the rest of them groan. Tommy just laughs. He’s missed this, missed them. He’s missed the person he is with them.

They all express their condolences and catch him up on their lives when he asks, as if no time has passed at all. 

He finds out Evan’s been baking, and knows they have so much to unpack when they’re finally alone.

Evan lays his head on Tommy’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be this easy, he thinks. 

He half expects Bobby or Hen to yell at him, to make him face the mess he’s made of his and Evan’s lives. He almost wants them to. But when he dares to look, they’re both smiling. It cracks his heart right down the middle.

He’s starting to think he doesn’t know this story half as well as he thought.

And Tommy, he’s so tired of endings, and so skeptical of beginnings, and so very terrified of the feelings starting to form in his chest. Everything ends. But if this is the middle of his story, if the bulk of his life’s pages get to be like this, it will have been worthwhile.

Also on AO3

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep?

Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses- - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Inspired by Castlevania, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV alternating, Post-Castlevania Season III, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant

PART I

Also on AO3

XXI. The kindness of strangers

Rufus went to stand as a shield before the two women, grasping the pitchfork firmly in his hand.

"The Lord's Horde," Rafilae placed her hand to her mouth, while Ravenna was suddenly looking about them for any possible ways of escape. Yes, she remembered them. She recalled the etchings of their garb and the ruthless dogmatism which drove them to blind murder. It was they who chased her that rainy day, whom she had barely escaped; who led her to...

"Are you certain?" one of the robed men asked.

"As I live and breathe," the one who'd previously pointed at Ravenna said. "That is the witch Denes and the others caught in Rusi. When I saw her in the market today among commotion I could not believe my eyes. She drew out the devil from one, so there's further proof." His voice dripped resentment. "I never thought she would dare show her face around these parts after what she did."

"What is the meaning of this?" Rufus intervened.

The first man who spoke neared. He clasped his hands together in his faded robe, his air one of distinction. He had a long dark beard and wore a black prior's cap over short cropped hair. "You host a witch in your midst."

Ravenna scoffed despite herself, looking inside, but there was no other means of escape.

The man continued his case. "She is responsible for the deaths of members of our brotherhood who tried to capture her near Rusi. We never saw them again."

"I'm no witch!" Ravenna seethed, looking pleadingly to Rufus and his wife.

Rufus did not seem convinced either. "Do you have proof of this?" He looked back to the prior.

The prior frowned, his cold eyes gaining a mad glimmer. "You know our cause. You know we will fight for the Lord with all that we are, and against anyone standing in the way of His justice," he looked pointedly to Rufus. "I would entreat you not to interfere with our work, lest you are prepared to face the dire consequences."

The man briefly took in the various sharp weapons the others wielded. Their gazes were cold and there was the same spark of maddened devotion in their eyes.

The children had appeared in the entrance, curious and wide-eyed. Ravenna sighed upon seeing them, then lowered her head.

"No," she placed a hand on the peasant man's shoulder. She regarded the prior icily. "I will go freely." She looked to Rafilae, who was wringing her hands. "Thank you for your aid." Then Ravenna swiftly retrieved her small satchel before hands were on her shoulders, and she was being dragged away before the startled eyes of the family who'd shown her kindness. It is true, everything does go in cycles, the thought crossed her mind.

"What will you do to me?" she dared ask as one of the men pulled her hands to bind them. Ravenna struggled in vain, but the man forcibly revealed her wrist, still bearing marks from the incubus.

"Further proof, prior Theofil," and all gasped when they saw the reddened scars as he forced Ravenna's wrist upward. "Cavorting with vampires also, no doubt."

The one called Theofil sneered, his dark eyes set on a livid Ravenna. "We take her to the river," then his smile turned vicious. "You do what you will with her." The others grinned, looking at each other. "Throw her body in when done."

"No, please," Ravenna tried reason, struggling as her bonds were removed. "I bear nothing but knowledge, and have no skill nor anything to do with the dark arts!"

"Silence!" the prior boomed. He went into her face, taking a fistful of her hair and pulling so harshly Ravenna screeched in pain. "Where are our brethren then, hmm? There is nothing you can say or do to make me believe you, wench, save for their safe return. And even then," he gripped harder, causing her eyes to water. "You are still a filthy servant of the Enemy." He released her and bid them march ahead, Ravenna dragged in tow.

They soon left the village behind, Ravenna trying to come to terms with the fact that life was apparently not on her side. None dared intervene and there were few people out and about since evening had fallen. All feared the darkness and what lurked beyond it, and rightfully so. The tall woods soon swallowed the group, and the woman saw two monks had lit torches.

When Ravenna heard the murmur of water nearby she swallowed. They must have neared the river. She looked left and right, seeing nothing but gloom and asking forgiveness of master Ovidius in her mind for failing. They'd taken her satchel away, reverently saying its contents were to be burned.

Then she was being dragged by two of them, struggling and panting to the river bank. Her arms and legs flailed, and a powerful strike ended her wailing. Ravenna saw stars.

"Pin her down," one said, and they were about to do just that when something hissed past them.

Ravenna saw nothing in the dark, save for the torch fallen to the forest bed. Then she heard groans and muffled cries as bodies fell to the ground.

She rose swiftly to her knees, jumping to fumble on the ground and retrieve her satchel which lay fallen nearby. She saw the prior and those of his men left standing.

A tall figure, bearing what she could discern was a crossbow, was facing them. She could not see who it was.

"If you value your life, you will stand down." A man's voice.

"End him," the prior ordered, ignoring the threat.

It all happened too fast. Whoever it was, there was no denying his skill in battle as soon the group's leader was left standing alone, ever retreating towards the steep river bank.

"Stay back!" he cried, brandishing a long knife even as his opponent stepped closer, loading his crossbow.

"Jump," the stranger commanded, aiming his weapon at the prior's chest.

"What?!"

"Jump," the man repeated calmly. "And you may survive. I will count to three, at which point your heart will be pierced by my last arrow. "Your decision," he offered as the prior kept looking to the gaping nothingness, then the glinting eyes of the stranger.

True to his word, the man began his count, and Ravenna gasped as she saw the prior turn on his heel, skittering in the mud and leaping into the emptiness below.

Frozen with fear, she crawled back on her arms and legs, grasping her satchel. What was happening?

It was then the stranger faced her, and drew back his hood.

In the fading light of the fallen torches she could discern a young face and light eyes, framed by long dark locks. "You need not fear me." He took one step towards her.

"Who are you, why did you help me?" Her words came harsh and swift.

The man made no other move to approach her. "I'm called Faur," he began in a steady voice. "In truth, my main quarry was them," he waved a hand at the fallen men. "They had dues to pay, and I'd been following them for a while now. And you?" His eyes bore into hers. "I doubt their hunches had anything to do with the truth, but I can imagine why they wanted you dead."

Ravenna crossed her arms around her satchel as she rose. "You don't think me a witch, then?" she dared, wishing she had her dagger close.

The one calling himself Faur then took another step towards her. "Not until proven otherwise," he grinned, surprising her. Then, "You seem to be lost, and not of this land by your accent. Do I strike true?"

There was no use hiding. "You do," Ravenna offered warily. "All I wanted was a quiet night during my travels, but life had other plans, it seems," she ran a hand through her disheveled hair.

Faur seemed to ponder. "Well, I cannot imagine you'd prefer to spend the rest of your night here."

Trusting strangers had brought about both ill and good. Ravenna considered her choices. "And I suppose you have some sort of proposition. Do you think me a fool, Faur?"

"I don't know. Are you?"

She gritted her teeth.

The man turned from her to walk ahead. "My abode is half a day's travel on foot from here. Should you wish for another chance at peace, you may come with."

All sorts of warnings and fears surged through her mind, but Ravenna found herself trailing after the stranger. "How do I know you have no foul intent?"

Faur stopped in his tracks, turning his head. "You don't. But you are free to choose, are you not?" and he resumed his stride.

Ravenna felt cornered, looking about herself, hearing the hiss of the river and the foreign stirrings hidden amid menacing boughs.

"Wait!" she cried. "Wait..." She quickened her pace, falling in step with him.

He was quite young, taller than her and looked to be very strong. Strong enough to overpower her surely, Ravenna thought as she tried to gather as much from his manner as the darkness allowed.

"And what of you? What name will you share?" the man broke the silence, showing no surprise at her decision.

Ravenna hugged her satchel tighter, sighing in defeat of her fears. "You may call me Ravenna."

The wolf ran. He sped across the forest through unbeaten paths, until the invisible trace of her led him to what he recognized was a human settlement. Of course. It made the most sense she'd cross through here.

The white-grey shadow with eyes of amber approached and waded through the night as if it were one with it, gone unnoticed amid the sleeping village. Her scent and the grip of her blood had nearly faded, and he could not sense her as well as before. But he focused his will and followed the weak, unseen guidance, going straight until he reached a cottage at the edge of town.

Alucard shed his wolf form and approached the door, hesitating mere moments before pounding heavily on the wood. It was not long before a middle-aged face appeared as the door cracked open. Tired dark eyes widened, and the door was slammed shut but not fast enough—Alucard had grasped the wood with one hand and no matter how much the man tried, he could not bring it to close. "The woman. Where is she?" he asked without preamble.

"What..." the man gasped in surprise. Alucard saw he was armed. "We are nothing but simple folk, and wish to invite no trouble into our lives. Whoever you are and whatever you seek, it's not here."

Alucard looked the man square in the face. There was no time for this. "I know her. And I know she was here. I also think the one I seek may be in danger."

The man was taken aback yet again, and Alucard felt his insides go cold at the bare truth revealed on the other's face. "Please," he tried, appealing to the shred of humanity keeping him from tackling the man and making him speak. Then he saw a child appear in the doorway, and the man swiftly bid him back inside. Alucard tempered his urge, cursing in his mind.

The man watched him. The unusual presence sounded as though he were a youth of this land, and yet a creeping shadow loomed over and around him. What the man did feel was deeply unsettled, though he could not discern the other's features outright in the blackness of night. He was torn between his instinct and his mind. "And you're not looking to harm her."

"No," Alucard spoke with all the honesty he could muster, shaking his head. "I could not, even if I tried," he added, though why he felt the need to express this to a stranger was a mystery. But then he realized why; he was desperate.

Looking behind him, the man closed the door, nodding to someone who'd been hidden from sight. He faced Alucard, taking in his noble appearance and the weapon he bore. Sighing deeply, he began to speak.

PREV

[topconfessions]

I agree with the point that they need us to survive in the industry but I don't think thats neccesserly owing something to us fans I don't expect anything from them (Idk if I could say it right english is not my first language sorry 😅) If they or the example now Top puts out some new music I'll listen to it and keep listening if I like it. If I don't like it then I won't. I became a vip in 2013 I was 14 now soon I'll be 26. I'm past the age where I'm like why are my faves not releasing music/dramas or today I don't really stream so they could get numbers . Thats why I'd also not care if he (or other kpop groups) puts out sth new or not. With Top I'm happy for him cause of the things happened and thats why I tuned in squid game and check out some interviews now he or generally the group was a huge part of my teenage years. But expecting them to release as in they owe me sth is not it cause as older I get I also don't give them my time (talking about the fangirling times keeping up with everything when I was younger not about casually listening to groups).

When I or we for that matter say Owe, I mean this with pure intentions and no malice sweetie, it is not of the negative connotations and I believe y'all associate owing someone like they're in a negative debt and we're in a greedy disposition. I say this as someone who can go years without paying attention to top if I had to or was dared to. It makes me no difference and I had my time being invested in him when I was a teen and ironcially? As a teen and like maybe 2-4 years of my 20s, I had the same chipper outlook that everyone else had.

He owes us in the sense that again, he is NOT an average or relatively normal celebrity. He is just not and it's his own words at this point and has been for ober 15-20 years so far. I need yall to seriously look at where he would be right now if we paid him dust for real. Seriously. Owing someone doesn't mean he is obligated but more so there is an earnest and legitmate give and take where he can't display very confusing, odd and unexplainable behavior then write off the industry regardless of mental health then return by speeding into a project that is a double edge sword.

Promotion is promotion for a reason. I'm kinda going off track right now and just explaining further points on the concept of "owing" someone something. If nobody promoted the show or it was just promoted via occasional Netflix ads and ads on streaming platforms, how would the ratings be? No different than margot robbie busting her ass for a year for barbie promos cause that movie was projected to be the biggest blockbuster aside from Oppenheimer. Imagine if Margot pulled a Monique for Precious (which she had a right to do, long story there*) and said I'm not promoting or giving the fans anything cause if xyz. Barbie would be in shambles. I know this sounds unrelated but it connects in the sense that promo is to really present a project in the best light so they can get more people watching. If he owed us nothing fr he could've skipped out of promo and left it at finishing his filming and thats it.

I thoroughly appreciate and understand where you're coming from, I've been there too, but respectfully - just like I can see your point and allow you to have that, I kindly and patiently ask that while you most definitely do not have to ever agree nor see the POV I and some other Anons have - please understand that I don't think its beneficial nor kind to speak over me or the others by paraphrasing the subject matter.

Basically, this whole project is his stepping out project and getting back out there after a mental and emotional Rollercoaster of a decade. This truly has nothing to do with ant of us personally for him but this owing topic is not me nor any anon who agrees saying he owes us squid game or he owes us music because guess what? I'll say it again, he is very obsecure and complex, we don't know wtf he's half the time and we get his project announcements by surprise these days.

Thats faboulous if you decide to listen or not to but the point is if EVERYONE or roughly 88-90% shockingly did not stream nor oay attention to his stuff? That would be a devastating from a business prespective.

Honey, I respect your pov but this is just factual. Everyone hates trump and wishes he would die already so if I told you he owed us xyz and I was speaking down on him? Nobody would have a problem with it. If I said beyonce owed us in general? It would be 50/50 response since she drops 282636 products she has no real connection to and expects everyone to buy it up. I would say the same about her as top.

I'm js. Trust and believe me. I keep saying it and I won't really say it anymore, but I'm not looking at this from pov yall are. I can like and respect this man but not take it personally. He is a celebrity I can be fond of but hes not my brother or best friend, so if someone said he owed us xyz? So long as I saw someone not calling top out of his name or being rude? Then hey, I agree. That's just me.

If top was an american celebrity he would be done for. And thats facts. I say this as someone who felt the shock, pain and disappointment watching unfold into someone I thought he'd never be. Wasted hours of investment. Wasted time. Etc. Yall wont get it until you get a little older.you cant get back the time you invest as a stan in kpop and now, with the internet & social media so advanced? Your fave wont mean shit anymore unless they score a big show thats a crossover like this.

Idk what else to say. I really don't. I dont think depending kanye or even MJ could be this exhausting and those are...out of the box celebs.

[taathais]

I'm so heartbroken that I can't even begin to tell you how much One Day at a Time meant for me. Although I don't share the experience of having to find myself as an immigrant, I'm Latina.

You can't even picture how make jokes, how many sayings and how many mannerisms just pictured perfectly what it was like to grow up in Latin American. I get to look at Panelope and compare her to my mom, thinking how different they are, but really, really similar. The sibling interactions and how the writers get it right about a number of different hard-to-talk-about topics.

I cried, I laughed, I relate.

Nowdays, I find it's so hard to make a comedy show that is beautiful, smart and funny at the same time. Netflix had the perfect recipe, they just had to keep on going – and advertise the fucking thing, for crying out loud.

For real, this show is the first time I saw a Latino family well represented on TV – specially on American TV, because you guys act like you don't know, but your movies and TV spread and grow like grass down here – and Netflix just blew it with a half ass excuse.

Like, dear I haven't seen an ad about ODAAT, but you keep bombarding me with ads about that horrendous umbrella academy show. How many cooking shows do we need??? But yeah, go around and spend your all dollars on Friends, an old TV show about white people with no different represatation whatsoever.

I'm sure that there are people who are not latinx would have related to the show, because humor (thank God) is universal.

People would've relate to Lupi too. A single struggling parent raising two children, one of them being gay and awesome. And a veteran – I've heard around Tumblr that 'merica has a lot of those. See how many socially important topicsss??

But no, they went and cancel it and while managing to outright lie to all the fan base, who above all, deserved just a sincere explanation.

I woud have respected you more, Netflix, if you actually had put some work into making this TV show a success, I'm sure there are many latinx immigrants and non immigrants on your platform that would just love all of Rita's entrances.

I'm stil mad about Sense8 and the only thing saving my subscription is the fact that I have no other place to watch #disco

Thank you for reading my rant.

[jamnotjam]

Relieving some stress

b.sk x reader

Being a idol is stressful, but when you have such a amazing partner, relieving stress is easy

Rating: smut

word count: 762

Warnings: sub!seungkwan, soft dom!reader, AFAB reader, pet play, reader calls sk kitty, sk calls reader noona, handjob, shoulder massage, eventual smut

"You cheated on me with my best friend?! How dare you!"

"Honey, its not what it looks like! Really!"

You gasp

This k-drama you found at the bottom of Netflix's list is really juicy, kinda cheesy, but interesting none the less.

You picked up a habit of watching shows on netflix while your boyfriend is gone, its rare you get to see each other often, he is apart of a pretty big kpop group, and between the scheduals and tours, hes pretty much out the door as soon as he wakes up and in bed as soon as he gets home. Its lonely, thats true, but you love him, and always support him as long as hes happy.

Right when the girl throws her cheater boyfriends clothes out the window in the drama your watching, your boyfriend walks in the front door.

You turn your head in his direction, eyes still fixed to the tv

“Welcome home, hun”

“Hey…” he grumbles

You look at him, a frown forming on your face, he seems tired

“Whats wrong, kwannie?”

Seungkwan gets a apple from the kitchen and plops on the couch next to you, he sighs

“Practice was hard today”

You frown and rub his shoulder lightly

“Im sorry, honey, is there anything i can do to help?”

He looks at you with puppy dog eyes

“Can you give me a back massage? Please noona…”

You chuckle lighly

“Of course”

You move behind him, pushing his butt to the edge of the couch. You grip his shoulders and rub lightly, he sighs in relief, his head falling back and landing on your shoulder.

“Did you guys at least make some progress with the choreography today?” you say as you rub the sweet spot on his back

“Y-yes..” his words fade into a moan

You both freeze, did he just moan? It wasnt a normal massage moan either, you look down and see a growing bulge in his pants, you scoff.

“Kitty…this is really turning you on?”

He opens his eyes and looks at you

“Y-yes noona…im sorry” he looks to the ground

You chuckle, popping random boners isnt a unusual thing for him, but its always adorable to see him embarrassed cause of it

“Its okay, noona will take care of you, youve had a stressful day”

You rub his arms and pull his body flush against yours, you start running your hands down his body, he shivers

“Noona..~” he whines

“Dont be impatient, kitty”

Your hand arrives at his crotch, and he gives a pathetic whine, he squirms at the slightest touch, you slowly unbutton his pants and send your hand into them, he groans. You rub your hand on his already hard cock

“Kitty…your so hard, it mustve hurt straining against your jeans”

“I-it did…noona” he moans

“Take off your pants for noona”

He scrambles to pull his pants down, along with his boxers, he sits back in your lap.

“Good boy”

You continue your rubbing on his cock, his moans steadily pouring out of his mouth

“Mmh, baby, im barely touching you and your moaning so much”

You whisper against his ear, he shivers

“Such a whore for your noona”

As you say that you start stroking him, he moans loudly, his body tensing, hes close to cumming

“Dont cum unless i tell you”

He nods, is head falls onto your shoulder, his face contorting in pleasure and you continue your strokes, you kiss him gently, swallowing his moans.

Your strokes get faster and his moans get louder, you pull away from the kiss and look at him.

He pants

“N-noona…please..please!”

You chuckle and stop your strokes, he groans

“Please what? Use your words”

“Please~ please let me cum”

You smile and continue your strokes, he moans loudly

“Go ahead kitty, you deserve it”

He moans, his body tossing and turning in your lap, when finally, you feel is cock twitch in your hand and hos body stiffing. His hot load spilling all over your hand and his sweatshirt. You tsk

“Kitty, you made a mess”

He pants, body limp and eyes closed

“I-i…”

Is the only words he can muster

“Its okay kitty, lets go to bed, yeah?”

He looks at you and nod, you lift his body up as much as you can and gets his underwear, you help him back into them and pick his pants off the ground. You two go to your room and he collapses on bed, you smile and lay the blanket on him

“Goodnight, kitty”

“Goodnight noona…i love you”

“I love you too”

Feedback appreciated!

[lavishedinjimin]

all the good girls go to hell

— synopsis: The Angels made a deal with Jeon Jungkook, the son of Lucifer, to help them bring Y/n back to her good, prim and proper self. Even though Jungkook grants the atrocious plan, he leaves a lesson that no one should give their trust to a wicked devil like him.

↳ pairing: jungkook x f. reader

↳ genre: smut, very slight angst if you squint hard enough

↳ rating: m/18+

↳ word count: 10k

↳ warnings: religious themes, heaven and hell, angels, devils (this fic is not a correct representation of these figures and is purely fictional), alcohol intake, cursing, hard dom jk, daddy! jk, fingering, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, squirting, unprotected sex, breathplay, spanking, face fucking, filthy dirty talk, rough sex, jungkook and his demon cock ehe

a/n: title is inspired by billie eilish’s song all the good girls go to hell. her title inspired me to write this fic! please ignore if you find any errors <3

“You’re not good enough.” 

“You look so pathetic, really.”

“Can you at least try to look hot?” 

“This is why no one likes you.” 

These words will forever haunt you until the day you die. 

It wasn’t your fault that you were raised very strictly, your overly-protective parents treating you like some kind of rare treasure that no one, no man, can touch. The fact that your parents still had to drive you home from school even at an age like this always irritated you to the brim of your existence. So now you can’t even have the freedom, the life of a normal young girl can have. 

Being raised strictly with a heavy-handed family – not to mention religious, too – has taken a toll on your mental health. There’s always the feeling of pressure wherever you go and whatever you do. The fear of not succeeding and disappointing your mom and dad is the worst feeling, like the Devil punching your gut repeatedly, as many times as he likes. 

Plus, some students at your school know you for your lack of “personality”, the boring one, the killjoy. You can’t even refute because it was all true. You never experienced fun, parties, how to have interesting conversations, how to interact with a large crowd, all because of your parents being so uptight in you. 

“Y/n!” The high-pitched voice of your mother calls from downstairs, and you were quick to scurry outside your room and find where she was sitting on the couch. “Yes, mom?” You say. 

She was dressed in a royal-blue dress that goes up to her knees, her hair fixed perfectly and the hairspray is clearly doing a great job of keeping her updo in place. She grabs her purse while your dad walks into view, dressed up in a neat suit. “We’re leaving for our business trip, Y/n. Didn’t I tell you that?” 

“Ah.” You sort of forgot about that. 

Quickly nodding your head, you force a fake smile that you know all too well, “Yes.” 

She gives you a weird glance before she fixes her makeup in a mirror, and your dad decides to continue for her. “We’ve hired a nanny to look after you, so that you won’t go out and about going behind our backs—”

“But dad! I really don’t need someone to babysit me,” You scoff. You weren’t a child anymore, what are they thinking! “I’m an adult. I can handle myself. Don’t you trust me?” 

Trust. Something they don’t have with you, whether they admit it or not. 

Your dad just sighs deeply and starts to walk closer to you. He places a hand on your shoulder as he looks straight into your eyes, giving you an authoritarian look. “Y/n, just do as you’re told and be a good daughter.” 

“I’ve always been one,” you scorn. 

“A good daughter doesn’t talk back.” Your mother retorts. 

This is why you can never argue with them. They never let you speak your own opinion or have your own voice. 

Your parents left exactly at 5 PM as they went on their flight to Madrid, leaving the house all to yourself only for tonight.

It was the next day, and you were sitting on the dining table, eating your cereal peacefully as you watched Netflix on your phone – until the doorbell rings. 

You stand up and quickly make your way to the front door, pouting when you already know that it is the person that was supposed to look after you. 

This is ridiculous. 

“Hello!” A bright, short middle aged woman appears standing on the doorway, her bright energy startling you. “Y/n! I’m May, nice to meet you!” She lifts her hand in front for a handshake, and you chuckle nervously, accepting it. “I’m here to look after you for ten days, hm?” 

“Uh, ah, yeah. C-Come in!” You tried to sound as positive and energized as you could to match her own energy, but you couldn’t. You step aside to let her in, pulling her luggage with her and she immediately takes up the design of the house. She was nodding her head, her arms crossed together while you accompanied her little journeys throughout the whole ground floor. You found her weird. 

“Uh, come follow me, my dad says you’ll be staying here at the guest room —” 

“Wonderful! I thought I was sleeping on the couch!” She claps her hands, excited that she has her own room. 

You look at her with big, shocked eyes, yet you can’t say anything. 

“O-Okay…” you mumbled, “Here,” you helped her open the door and she immediately set her things up. “May?” 

“Yes, my dear?” She stops unpacking her bags to look up at you. “I’ll be at the kitchen, okay? If y-you wanna ask anything, I’m right over there.” 

“Ah, that’s okay, Y/n. Your mother told me everything I need to know. Your bedtime is at eight and no midnight snacks!” 

Your heart drops down to the floor as you immediately encountered a wave of emotions. Why did it matter?! Why did your mom had to apply all these stupid rules when she’s not even around? You thought at the start that you’ll have some kind of freedom when your parents aren’t here, thinking that your nanny might be easier, but perhaps not. 

“Okay.” You say simply. 

How else can you prove to people that you can be better? You're sick of everyone seeing you as the boring one, but your parents were the only thing that was keeping you from having fun. So you decide to be a little risky. 

Step one: Sneak out the house. 

Isn't that what people your age do? Usually they sneak out to party, to go hang out with their friends and have the time of their life. But you had none, no ‘best friend’, but a couple of lunch friends here and there. 

“I should try clubbing.” You mumble to yourself as you sit down on the plush comfort of your mattress. Until you hear your phone chimes, signalling a text. You grab your phone from the bedside table and frown when you see who the text was from. 

Mom: Remember to go to church later, Y/n. 

You didn't reply, instead, it got you thinking. 

Nothing will happen if you skip church, right? You've always attended Mass every Sunday with your parents, so there's absolutely nothing wrong with skipping at least once.

Besides, you need to plot your plans for tonight!

~

“What is this girl doing?” Armaros says in a deep whisper, his well-shaped eyebrows furrowing deeply while he watches Y/n on her phone, laying down on her bed as if church isn't just five minutes away from starting. 

Armaros rushes to the other side of the room to get a better view of her human who lays on her stomach, a white wisp of smoke trailing behind him. He shakes his head, crossing his arms together in front of his chest. “Y/n, Y/n,” he tuts, “What are you doing?!” 

He decides to step forward and reaches forward for his hand to caress the crown of your head. He chuckles when he sees your eyes expand in a quick second, your body abruptly sitting up straight from the tingling feeling in your neck. Your hairs stand up, a chill running down your spine. 

This was Armaros’ way of mustering his presence onto you. Your dad always taught that whenever you suddenly feel a chilling sensation out of nowhere, it means that your guardian angel is there with you and trying to send you a message. 

And you clearly know what he's trying to say. 

There was a slight feeling of guilt – uneasiness, even. But no. You've already decided that you weren't going to follow your old routine. 

Armaros’ jaw drops when you don't move from your position on the bed, only making yourself comfortable even further. ”Don’t you dare skip church...” he slowly whispers to himself. But he quickly shakes his head side to side, trying to be optimistic, “It's just one time. Just one time.” 

Time passes by faster than you think, you sink your teeth down on your bottom lip, chewing on it as you try to Google clubs near you. It was ridiculous, feeling so overwhelmed from all of the options the Internet is showing you. 

There was a generous list of bars and clubs with different ratings. It was a humane decision to choose the best one, right? So you went for a nightclub called ‘Soap Seoul’. Although, you feel your stomach churn when you scroll through the images attached to it; seeing all of the strange blue and red LED lights, big and tight crowds, and an HD picture of their bar. The bar was long and almost occupied the width of the whole club. You don't even know if you can stand such a place like that. 

But no. You can't back out now! You had to show yourself and to others that you can have some fun too. 

~ 

The club opens tonight at 8 pm, letting yourself have two hours to prepare. Rummaging through your garments of clothing, you try to find an appropriate outfit.

“I have nothing!” you whined, eyebrows furrowing in dismay. All you had were simple t-shirts and countless skinny jeans and leggings. Your dresses were almost knee-length and suitable for church – not for a nightclub! 

Armaros stands at a distance, shaking his head at you. 

Until, you heard a loud knock on the door, “Y/n!” May's voice shouts from the other side of the room, “Dinner's ready!” 

Oh no. 

Quickly opening the door, you stared at her with big, worried eyes. “May! I-uhh, I-I’m not gonna stay for dinner…” you mumbled, looking at the ground. 

“Oh, why is that?” she asks, a faint sad tone in her voice. You felt so sad and regretful that you didn't say anything to her because she already cooked your dinner. 

“I-I have plans for tonight,” you hold your hands behind your back, slightly getting embarrassed. 

“Are you going out with your friends?”

“Y-Yeah!” You lie. You've never lied before. 

“Ah, I understand. Have you told your mom?” 

She doesn't have to know. 

“Yup.” 

And there it was again, the chills in your neck appeared while your arm and leg hairs stood up. Armaros touches your scalp, desperate to seek your attention and bring you back to your old, good self. The angel didn't like that you were lying, for he was perpetually accustomed to your good deeds. It was making him anxious for what's about to come. 

But you ignored his message. May nods when you told her that she can have the food to herself. 

You feel a pang of guilt rush through your body when you shut the door behind you, your heartbeat suddenly racing faster. The nervousness in you made your head hurt. Is this the right thing to do? No. It wasn't. But you had to show people that you can be different. Will it be worth it? Of course. 

Thankfully, you spot a white dress that you've never worn before. It was a gift from your cousins that was supposed to be another addition to your collection of church dresses but it was too short for your liking. 

“Hm, maybe this will work…” you quietly mumble to yourself.

You tried the piece of clothing on, carefully examining your reflection in the full-length mirror. The hem of the skirt falls right above your mid-thigh, too high for your usual comfort but for the sake of dressing up for a nightclub — there was no problem. The dress was snug, hugging your body so that it accentuates your curves.

The dress was plain white and was relatively simple. You don't really know what people usually wear for nightclubs but you were certain that dresses were a part of the code. 

You looked for your black three-inch heel that you last wore during your highschool graduation, slipping it in carefully. Doing a little bit of makeup and applying a thin layer of lip gloss, you grabbed a purse and walked out of your room. 

“May, please don't wait for me, okay?” you say after walking past her. 

“W-Wait, I'm supposed to–”

“It's okay. I'll be okay.”

“She's not gonna be okay!” Armaros declares, kneeling on one knee before Archangel Michael – the protector and the spiritual warrior, as he mentions Y/n's recent mischiefs.

After you've been to the nightclub the first day, you've never stopped. You became addicted. 

Sometimes you don't even tell May that you're going out, you just sneak out of the window and let May worry about you. You've happened to know how to drink as you get wasted every single night, hanging around with people that you don't know, people that are a bad influence on your good side. These past few days had you acting up like you’ve never before. You longed for alcohol and the feeling of it numbing your nerves, and there’s not a day where you didn’t get drunk.

Armaros’ power wasn't enough to stop you. Every single day he's been drying his best to send signals, to make you feel certain ways and speak to your consciousness that what you are doing is by far dangerous and wrong. But you never listened. 

You've skipped church, stopped talking to God, ignoring your parents’ phone calls, not doing your homework just because you're busy either getting drunk or making out with someone at the club. It's like you have been addicted to misbehaving. 

But for you, you thought you’re doing the right thing. 

“Armaros, are you doubting your powers?” Archangel Michael replies, running his fingertips along the sharp blade of his sword. 

“N-No, but, nothing seems to work. She's been ignoring my calls for almost two weeks. I just want the best for her.” Armaros’ voice fades at the end of his sentence. He was speaking with such sincerity because he really cares for Y/n. He truly loves her. “Why is she doing this?” He asks for help.

“Because, my dear, she's trying to prove something she's not for other people.”

“What?” 

Archangel Michael laughs quietly, staring at him endearingly. He points his sword at him, “She obviously tries to be immoral to fit in. She's rarely praying to God like she used to, rarely respecting the people around her. Ever since humans bullied Y/n for being herself – she starts to change. But the question is…”

He walks around Armaros, his eyes never leaving his. “Is this making her happy?” 

Armaros lowers his head and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” 

The Archangel grins and returns his sword back on the scabbard attached to his belt. 

“If I can't warn her to stop, then who else can?” The angel asks. 

Michael lifts an eyebrow up, crossing his arms together as he stands right in front of him. His mouth draws into a slow smirk, a hint of playfulness in his eyes as if a lightbulb appeared on top of his head. 

“You wanna have some fun, Armaros?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Stand up, stand up.” Armaros quickly obeys his superior’s command. The Archangel places a hand on his right shoulder, preparing to speak. 

“I have an idea. We call Jeon Jungkook up and–” 

“No! Absolutely not! I will not allow Y/n to come face to face with the son of Lucifer!” Armaros bellows, instinctively pushes Michael's hand away from him. 

“Armaros! It's just an idea!” Michael chuckles, spreading his arms to the side as he shakes his head. “And besides, I have to ask permission from our Highness anyway.” 

“And what will he do? Taunt her? Provoke Y/n to be more sinful?” Y/n's guardian angel asks, referring to Jungkook. “We both know how manipulative and cunning he can be!”

“No, no. We'll make a deal with him, of course! No devil will do anything without receiving something in return.” 

“This idea of yours, not to be rude, but is really out of this world.”

Archangel Michael snorts from the out of the blue pun. 

“Do not be afraid. If our Lord agrees to our plan, I'll be watching. I always will. Give me your trust, Armaros.”

Armaros sighs deeply, yet smiles up at him right after. “Okay, I trust you.” 

“May, stop it,” you mutter angrily, pulling your arm away from her hold. May tries to block your way from going outside the house but you abruptly push her to the side. 

“Y/n! Your mom told you that–” 

“Told me what?! That I’m being independent? Unruly? That I should just stay home? I don’t give a fuck anymore, May. I’d rather hang out with friends than stay here and do nothing!” You bark at her. She was smaller than you and you were definitely giving off that intimidating vibes that you wanted to show. She isn’t the one wearing the pants in this house. You are. 

“Y/n, I will not tolerate this behavior!” May snaps, eyes glaring at you with her hands balled up into fists on her sides. 

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sour chuckle, “You sound like my mom.” 

May sighs deeply, the tiredness in her voice evident, “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Y/n. Just listen to me.” 

“I’m an adult. I can keep myself safe. Now, let me go and don’t wait for me.” 

“Y/n!” 

“Bye May! Have a nice sleep!” 

“Y/n! Where the fuck are you?!” Emilia, one of the new friends you've met no longer than three days ago shouts through the phone as loud, blazing music muffled her voice. “Sophia and I are waiting for you! Get your ass over here!”

“I'm almost there, save me a drink already!” you giggle, looking out from the taxi’s window. 

Sophia snatches the phone out of Emilia’s hand to speak to you, “Y/n, you still remember the bet we made, right?” 

“Of course! It's not a huge deal, c'mon now.” You roll your eyes, faking a laugh. 

“We'll see!” Emilia giggles. 

The driver drops you in front of the nightclub and you throw him a couple of dollars. Stepping out of the car, your high heels clicking on the cement. Upon entering the place, you were immediately greeted with your friends. They were both wearing a tight dress – glittery red and silver – whilst you wore a black one that reached down to your middle thigh. You bought the dress only a day ago, special thanks to your Amazon Prime account . 

“Hey! Here, drink this,” Sophia hands you a single malt whiskey and you swiftly drown it down your throat without any problem. You reminisce back to your first day where you can’t even take a sip of beer without gagging. Now look where you are. 

“Ahh fuck, that tastes good,” you mumble through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you late tonight, Y/n?” Emilia asks as she leads you to the bar to order more alcohol. Her high pitched voice mixing with the loud music,”You know it's always 9 PM. Sharp.” 

You breathe out heavily as you watch Sophia pour three shots of straight vodka into a shot glass. She distributes the beverage to the two of you. 

“Well, uh–” 

“What?” Emilia snaps.

“I couldn't find a goddamn cab, that's why!” you hide your falseness with laughter, hoping they won't sense your lie. 

“Alright anyway, let’s go get wasted and you, Y/n – will be our first player.” Emilia smirks as she crosses her arms together. She analyzes your body, eyeing you up and down. You didn’t like it, and you felt worried. 

Your eyebrows furrow, confused and slightly offended, “What, why me?” You take a sip of your newly-ordered beer, trying to get comfortable on the plush-covered stool. 

“Because,” Sophia answers for her, “we need to know your… capacities.” 

You snort, “Capacities of what? My capacity of having to get into a m-man’s bed? Pffft… easy!” 

Sophia’s forehead furrows, glancing at Emilia with a knowing look before focusing her attention back to you. “Sure. Anyway, let’s have fun first and then…” she leans closer to you, her face inches away from yours. You feel your face redden in embarrassment, “And then you can choose your man.” 

It wasn’t that bad. It isn’t bad dancing around the dance floor, beer in hand, as you danced all your worries away. Emilia and Sophia were out there – somewhere, but you didn’t care about them at this moment. You let your body go with the beat of the loud EDM music, holding your hands up in the air as you whipped your head left to right. You had a huge smile on your face, the alcohol kicking in like it was meant for your body to consume. 

Sweaty bodies were bumping each other from left and right, and you for sure stepped on someone’s toe with your pumps. Nevertheless, you didn’t care. You were having your fun. 

It was until the song changed from upbeat to a more sensual, heart-pumping song from the loud bass. As if there was a switch inside you, you turned into a sultry mess. 

Wasted. You were wasted like hell. 

Your eyes turn into little slits as you look around the dance floor to try and find someone to play with. Taking a huge sip of your drink, your throat burns yet you tried to ignore it. 

“Ah-hah!” you giggle, walking – or should we say, stumbling – towards a guy with black hair parted in the middle, nicely dressed in a black button up tucked in some skinny jeans. The man locks eyes with you, licking his plump lips as his eyes rake your body. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he smirks, making you blush in red as he holds your waist and tugs you closer to him. The song in the background was helping you a lot to get into that seductive, sexy mood that you planned to have. 

“Hey,” you smile up at him, “I’m Y/n.” 

“What a pretty name for a pretty lady.” He starts swaying your body to the beat, going along with you. “I’m Seokjin. Nice to meet you.” 

Seokjin tugs your body closer until he holds the back of your head with one hand, making you look deep into his dark eyes. “Y-You’re a new face,” you slur, “You don’t belong here.” 

Unexpectedly, your eyes grow big when Seokjin throws his head back as he laughs almost hysterically. “What?” you question. 

The man slightly leans down until his face draws near to yours, and you can immediately smell the alcohol in his breath. You didn’t judge though, you probably had beer-breath too. 

“Baby girl…” Seokjin suddenly speaks deeply, making your heart jump from the sudden change in his voice. There was a sultry look in his eyes that made it hard for you to keep eye contact. “Baby it’s you who doesn’t seem to belong. You don’t know who I am.” 

“Well y-you don’t know me e-either!” You try to retaliate, although it was messed up with your embarrassing stuttering.  

“You really wanna know?” he whispers, his lips right against your lips, almost touching yours. You couldn’t breathe properly, wanting to pull away but his intoxicating scent was forcing you to him. 

You nod your head, not trusting your voice. 

“I own this place, baby.” 

You almost tossed your cup right across the room from his sudden confession, totally not expecting such a young-looking man to own such a place like this. Your eyes expand, body staying still. 

’Wait! Be sexy… be sexy…’ you thought to yourself after an awkward five seconds of silence. 

You decide to chuckle, biting your bottom lip slowly as you draw yourself nearer to him. He lifts a brow up in surprise, wrapping his arms around your hips and he closes the distance between the two of you. 

“Really? Well then,” you mutter, “I want you to own me too.” 

“Oh, finally. Someone straightforward.” 

“Well I – oh!” Seokjin takes you by surprise when he quickly tugs your arm and leads you to the second floor of the club. You haven’t been in this area before, looking so luxurious and well decorated. Although what shocks you is the series of doors that passes through a long, wide hallway. 

“Seok...Seokjin,” you whisper, but he looks at you with a smirk, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“C’mon baby,” he opens a door and walks you inside, locking it behind him. “Let’s have a little fun.” 

Let’s have a little fun. 

Yeah. I should. 

This is fun, right? 

Before you can even process things, Seokjin shoves your body to a wall as his hands start to wander down your sides. With flushed cheeks, you look at him like you’ve just seen a ghost but he clearly doesn’t mind, grinding his hips into yours. 

“Mmm, what a cute babe I have in front of me,” he groans, leaning forward to pepper wet, gentle kisses all over your neck and down to your shoulders. 

Something feels off. 

“Y/n, right?” he asks, his forehead furrows and you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart starts to rapidly pump inside your chest, feeling as if it’ll burst at any minute. An uncomfortable feeling starts to overwhelm your system, sensing your palms getting sweaty. You can’t look at his eyes, looking anywhere but him. 

“Uh, o-okay,” you straighten your back as you try your best to look confident. 

This is the perfect opportunity to tell your friends. Having sex with someone like him will absolutely impress Emilia and Sophia. 

Seokjin chuckles, shrugging, “Alright then.” And without any warning, he throws you on the bed and he quickly hovers above your body. 

“Mmph–!” he immediately presses his lips into yours before you can even react to everything that had just happened. He caresses your cheeks with both hands, his lips moving softly with yours. You try your best to keep up with him and his pace, but you can’t. There was something stopping you from giving him your all. Seokjin grunts nevertheless, humping you. 

Seokjin’s right hand snakes down to grab the hem of your dress as he teasingly pulls the fabric up, then lets it snap back down. There was a weird feeling inside your stomach, and it did not feel good at all. 

His hand slowly starts creeping up your leg, and that’s where you couldn’t hold it back. 

“Mmm, n-no,” you mewl, pushing him away from you. Seokjin stares down at you with a frown, head tilted to the side. 

“Y/n?” 

Rapid heart rate, the back of your neck sweating, and chills all over your body occur all at the same time. You were panicking. 

“I-I…” immediately you stand up from the bed, hiking your stupid short dress down as much as you can. “S-Sorry,” furiously shaking your head from side to side, you stumble your way to the door. 

“Y/n, wait!” Seokjin yells, confused yet he felt sorry at the same time. “Let’s talk about it!” 

“No,” you whisper. You can’t do this anymore. There was no energy left in your body to talk, to process what just happened, to stand in this fucking club. Home. All you were thinking about was going home. 

You twist the doorknob open, trying to catch your breath as much as you can but you feel like you were going to pass out any minute. Making your way down the stairs, you run as fast as you can towards the exit of the nightclub yet a person catches your arm. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes widen when Emilia and Sophia stop you, observing your state. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No…” you breathe tirelessly, “c-can’t do it…” 

“You failed?” Emilia snaps as she leans her body on one hip, resting her hands there. She looks at you with disgust, “But we saw the guy that you’re with! He was hot!” 

Sophia snorts, smirking as she stares at you sourly, “Proves our point. You’re nothing, Y/n. You had such an easy job, the guy’s already all over you and you just had to throw him? Where is he, let me get with him myself.” Sophia struts away, heels clicking as she flips her long hair over her shoulder, leaving you with Emilia. 

“What can I say, Y/n,” she smiles menacingly, the corners of her eyes crinkling, “You can never be like us.” 

Your whole body felt heavy, heavy like you were carrying a boulder behind your back. This isn’t what you had planned at all, everything was going so well until this! Your eyes started welling up with tears, blurring your sight. You had to go. 

Without saying a word, you quickly run away to the exit, ignoring Emilia’s insensitive laugh. 

What went wrong? Why did you feel that way? Negative thoughts were clouding your mind as you cried and cried to your poor, soaked pillow. 

Maybe you are just not enough. Perhaps you’re not meant to be like this. 

It was fun the first time around, and you were actually enjoying yourself. But the days passed and you sadly weren't doing this for your own pleasure anymore, but for the validation of other people. 

You should’ve stopped Seokjin from touching you when it clearly made you uncomfortable. There was a line and he crossed it, but you erased that line so you can finally say that you’ve slept with someone. But you guessed it wasn’t that easy. 

Grabbing your phone, you ignored all of the rude messages Emilia has sent you, blocking her and Sophia’s number. You turned off your phone, throwing it somewhere on the ground without care before you switched off your lamp. There was never a time that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, but tonight was your first. 

“And what do I get in return for this deal?” Jeon Jungkook purrs with a low, dark tone, crossing his legs together as he sits on his father’s fire-blazing throne. Even though he has his own throne for himself, thrones on fire were way cooler. He scans the frightened angel from head to toe through the strands that fell in front of his eyes. 

“The A-Archangel says you will obtain a soul. A soul that is longing for hell.” Armaros stutters as he tries to keep eye contact with the devil’s hard glare. 

Jungkook chuckles, hanging his head low. “You mean to tell me…” he starts to stand up and walks towards the angel. Armaros tries his best to keep his guard up and stand as tall as possible. 

Jungkook circles around him, arms crossed while his right hand plays with his bottom lip, “That I should convince this little girl to prevent doing bad, bad things to stop her from going to hell?” He laughs hysterically. “That’s quite… an unnatural job for a devil, isn’t it? It’s completely the opposite of what i’m supposed to do. Tell Michael that his plan is utter bullshit.”

Armaros takes a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a brief second before replying. “Firstly, Y/n is not a little girl. And second, this job is easy. You have the skill to persuade humans to sin – what’s hard with doing the opposite? Besides, you’ll obtain a soul either way.” 

His words made Jungkook ponder and deliberate with himself. He stops in front of Armaros and shows him his signature imposing smile. “I can have my way with the girl, right?” He bites his lip, “Anyway I want?” 

This made Armaros’ eyes go wide, mouth opening but no words seem to come out properly, “I-I… w-well, um… yes? Yes? P-Perhaps? Just don’t do anything bad to her.” 

Jungkook scoffs, running his long tongue over his teeth as he smirks, “Define bad, Mr. Angel.” 

“You know… hurt her.” He gulps.

The devil squints his eyes, absolutely loving Armaros’ reactions. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not gonna kill her, if that’s what you mean.” 

“I’m done with this conversation.” Armaros quickly chirps as he unfolds his large, white wings. “Remember what your main goal is, Jungkook. I’m counting on you.” 

Jungkook stops him before he flies back up. “Armaros…” he says, dragging his name long in his tongue. Armaros looks at him, eyes impatient, arms crossed together. 

“You know I’m a devil, right?” 

The angel chuckles, scoffing, “Oh, I know that alright.” He scorns, eyeing Jungkook up and down. Although the devil in front of him looks intimidating and his eyes are jet black, Armaros keeps his calm. “I’m only following orders. I didn’t agree with The Archangel in the first place.” 

“Do you know what devils do to… humans?” 

Armaros nods fully. 

“And what I might do to… that precious little girl?” Jungkook growls deeply, walking closer to him. He tilts his head down, looking at him through his lashes, “There’s a huge chance that I might not control myself when I see her.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Suddenly, black smoke appears from Jungkook’s right hand, summoning something beside him. The smoke appears to subside and at once, Y/n’s appearance can be seen through the thin air. Jungkook rests his hips on one side, twirling his hand so that her image spins around. 

“This is Y/n, right?” Jungkook studies your face, watching you read a book inside your room. “I’ve never seen someone so beautiful before.” 

“Jeon Jungkook!” Armaros bellows, his tone loud yet sprinkled with fear. 

“I’m just saying, Angel. You can’t stop me from trying to do devilish things to her.” Jungkook smirks, prodding his tongue on the inside of his cheek. “You might have to reconsider this deal of yours if you don’t want me to have my way with that pretty little girl,” He taunts, already warning Armaros.

“Jungkook,” Armaros’ nerves seem to heat up, slowly getting irritated although he tries to calm himself. He looks down, shaking his head as he pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “There’s no point in doing that. You think she wants to have an affair with someone like you?” 

The devil laughs loudly as he twirls his hand until your image disappears. This conversation further proves Jungkook’s argument that angels are actually dumber than they realize. 

“If you want me to help you, I will have my way with her. My job, my rules. Understand?”

Armaros feels defeated, but he can’t say anything but nod and agree to him. He can’t fight him anyway. Jungkook dismisses him, and with that, the angel ascends back up to earth. 

Jungkook can’t wait to have his fun. 

~

Prancing around, making friends, getting to know each other – Jungkook doesn’t want to do that. Instead, he’s very straightforward, saying words that he probably shouldn’t, he likes to say what he thinks no matter how bad it’ll probably hurt. 

That’s what he plans to do with you. 

If he gets his point clear, make you frightened, scare the shit out of you, then the job would be complete. 

Easy! 

You were currently on your laptop, scrolling through your pinterest tabs until you hear loud and frantic knocks on your door. “Y/n!” May shrieks, her voice quivering. “Someone’s at the door!” 

Oh no, you thought. 

Immediately hopping out of bed, you went out to see who it was with May following behind you. You peak out through the windows and suddenly, you inhale sharply from the man that you see. 

He was unfamiliar. Thankfully, it wasn’t Seokjin or Sophia nor Emilia, but rather tall, might you say handsome looking man waiting outside your doorstep. He was dressed in all black, his hair covering his eyes. 

“Do you know him?” May asks quietly. You shake your head slowly, “N-No.” 

“Y/n… I think you should just leave him.” 

“May, I can handle it. You can go now.” You say softly to her. 

“Are you sure—”

“Yes.” You spat a little harshly, blazing your eyes at her. May nods, sighing as she walks away to her room. 

Gathering the courage to open the door, you took a deep inhale and exhale, calming your nerves. 

Once you open the door, your eyes immediately fly to his dark ones. Your whole body suddenly shivers, the air around the place somewhat getting cold as if it was winter. 

You can't take your eyes off of the man. You have never met him before but it felt like you've known him for too long. There was a strange aura surrounding the two of you that you can't explain. 

“Hello.” He speaks first, giving you a sly smile. 

His voice. You've never heard such a dark and menacing timbre before. 

“Hi,” you gulp, “Who are you?” 

“May I come in?” Jungkook snaps, ignoring your question. He doesn't want to waste any time, that's for sure. 

You furrow your brows as you shake your head, “Answer my question first.” You blurt, blocking the entrance by placing your hands on either side of the doorway. 

“Hm,” Jungkook slowly shows you a deadly smirk, eyeing your body up and down. “You really wanna know?” 

What kind of a question is that? 

You quickly got annoyed, looking at him with a scorn. “Obviously!”

Feisty, Jungkook thought. 

“I'm the devil.”

There was a long pause, silence filling the air. This man is too handsome to be this dumb. You laugh hysterically, bending over as you hold your aching stomach. “A-Are you… oh my god… please tell me you're fucking joking!” you say with creased eyes. 

Jungkook already expected this reaction, and he only rolls his eyes without you noticing. 

“Mhm. You don't believe me?” he slowly pronounces his words, voice deep and sinister. 

“Nah,” you shake your head, giggling. 

“Aren't you religious?” Jungkook pushes you to the side without hesitation and enters, your eyes expanding slowly as his body suddenly comes in contact with yours. “Don't you believe in your God? You believe in angels, right?” He backs your body up and shuts the door loudly behind him. 

You felt a series of chills erupt from your system, his gaze locked on yours. You wanted to look away from his intimidating gaze, but you can't, for some strange reason. “Huh, Y/n?”

You gasp. “Wait, h-how do you know my name!?” 

Jungkook smirks at you, tilting his head to the side as he ignores your question again. 

Your body seems to move by itself, like you can't control your own limbs. The air thickens around the two of you as you feel your body submit to the man in front of you. 

Sighing, with a shaky voice you answer. “I do. I do believe in them.”

Although what shocks you is the way his eyes suddenly turn a bright shade of red. From deep black to red, his irises glow. 

“What the fuck–” you quickly back away, body shivering in fear until your back hits a wall. You rub your eyes, trying to see if your mind was only playing tricks with you. 

Jungkook grins and chuckles darkly, clicking his tongue. “Then…” he draws, walking closer to your frightened figure, “Can this convince you enough?” 

“S-Stop… stop playing games with me!” you whimper, feeling your palms get sweaty. “Your eyes are red!” 

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Jungkook snarls, forehead creasing, “Maybe because I'm the fucking devil?” 

And in a flash, Jungkook’s appearance changes from a tall, handsome boy into a dark red figure. Black, bat-like wings sprout from his back, long horns appearing from his forehead, a spear-like tail behind him. His lips and the area around his eyes were tinted in black while his fingers grew longer, sharper. 

You almost fainted then and there. 

“Oh— p-please,” your eyes turn watery as tears start to fall down your cheek, lifting your hands up to your mouth in shock, “please d-don't kill me!” Shutting your eyes to avoid the frightening image in front of you, your knees drop down to the floor with a loud thud. “I'm sorry, please f-forgive me! Don't k-kill me! Please!” 

“Oh, what a cute pretty girl you are,” the devil grins, his voice more gravelly now. He looks down at your frail self, amused. “I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to teach you a lesson.” 

You start to sob as your body shakes, “No! Please d-don't…”  

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yes! Yes I do!” you quickly reply, voice cracking. “I’m sorry s-sir, don’t hurt me!” 

Jungkook, satisfied with your reaction, morphs back to his normal human look within a few seconds. “Look at me.”

Slowly, afraid to anger the devil in front of you, you obey his words. You sigh in relief when he finally looks normal again, but you can't look at him the same way. 

“Stand up.”

You do so with wobbly legs. You felt so weak with your energy quickly drained so quickly. Wiping your tear-stained cheeks, you try your best to keep your composure. 

“Anyway, I'm Jungkook,” he gives you an award-winning smile, “I'm sent here to supposedly warn you from doing bad things.” He cringes, shaking his head. “Which, honestly speaking, I think is atrocious.”

He scans your body, biting his lip right after. “A good looking girl like you should have her fun.” 

You try to regain your senses back. A devil — a real devil appeared right in front of you. You can't seem to shake the thought away while he’s there looking so handsome in his human form. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him, “J-Jungkook? I'm really sorry. I don't know what I'm doing.” 

He snorts. Brushing his black hair away from his face. “Wrong. You know what you're doing.” 

“W-What?” 

Something in the air changes when Jungkook snaps his fingers. A thick, black smoke appears, capsuling the both of you in. “What is this?!” you question, terror overtaking your face. You watch your surroundings getting blurry, blackness covering the area. 

“Oh nothing,” he gives you a lopsided grin, “just making sure that your little angels can't see us.” 

Jungkook's eyes shine and his pupils enlarge, smiling as you notice how his teeth grow sharper. There were veins popping out in his neck, grimacing at you in pure excitement.  

“We can't afford your poor, guardian angel to stop us now, can't we? I don't want him to see us…playing.” 

“Playing?!” You gasp, eyes expanding in shock.. 

“Yes, baby. Angels are so fucking dumb, aren't they? Asking a devil to do their own work? Isn't that pathetic.”

You were locked to him like a magnet as your body seems to fill with utter desire in such a quick time. 

Was he doing something to you?!

A series of pleasurable chills erupt from your body, mouth getting dry as you look up at Jungkook with big eyes. 

His hand suddenly touches your bare arm, making you silently mewl from his chilling touch. He smirks at your reaction, “How dumb of them to trust the son of Lucifer himself.”

“Y-You… you're…” your voice fades, trying to process his words. 

“Mhm. Aren't you excited to play with me?” 

Maybe he's doing tricks to your mind, controlling your body – or maybe you’re just fucked up. Either way, you want him. 

You lust for him. 

“Yes.”

Jungkook draws his lower lip between his teeth, his hands finding its way to your waist, holding you firmly until he unexpectedly pulls you to his body. He lifts a single eyebrow up, “Really?” 

Your heartbeat quickens. 

“I've… I’ve never been more sure.” Words seem to spill out of your mouth without your consent, as if it wasn’t you who’s speaking. But you don’t try to take your words back.  

Jungkook laughs and starts to lift you up without struggle, finding his way to your bedroom while the smoke follows the two of you. “Bad, bad girl you are.” He lowers you down on the mattress, sending you a seductive wink, “I'm so fucking proud.” 

He preps himself on his knees, capturing your thighs in between. His eyes run down your body, chills running down your spine from how hot he looks. His figure was so big and muscular, making you feel like he can destroy your frail self. 

“Look at this, you look so fucking delicious baby.” 

His hand suddenly flies down to your armpits, roughly handling you as he carries you up as he sits down on the bed, his back pressed against the headboard, as he places you in between his legs. 

You hold back a whimper as he pushes your body closer to him. Hearing him growl deeply made your cunt throb, feeling a strange wet feeling down there. 

“Demons can't help humans,” he mutters lowly, his lips right against the shell of your ear. “They want you to sin and sin and sin until the day you fucking die.” 

His hands play with your shirt until in a quick flash, he rips the cotton material in half, your body shivering as it has been exposed to the cold air. “Ohh,” you whimper, covering your body with your arms. 

“Nu-uh,” Jungkook grins behind you, “Don't do that, baby.” He leans down and starts pressing wet and sloppy kisses all over your shoulders, running his mouth up to your neck. “Don't try to hide away from me.”

He sucks on the soft skin of your neck, his big dick throbbing in his pants from the way you were constantly squirming. You were so sensitive, and it made him so horny. He hums, marking your skin in bright red and purple bruises. 

“Ahh, Jungkook,” you moan, throwing your head back until it rests right against his shoulder. 

His hands suddenly fly to your breasts, his long and slender fingers pinching and twisting your hardened nipples. You bite your bottom lip as you can't seem to open your eyes from the feeling. It was until Jungkook suddenly digs his nails into your nipples, pinching them roughly that made you jolt right up. 

“Oh, t-that hurts,” you cry, the stinging feeling of his sharp nails pinching your buds. Jungkook watches your face contort, digging his nails even harder. He feels your body twitch, hearing your gentle whines and mewls. 

“Ohhh you don't like it baby, does it hurt too much for your sensitive, precious body?” he mocks a concerned tone. “Hm?” 

He was playing games with you, that's for sure. You nod your head up and down, trying to push his hands away. “Mhm…” 

Thankfully, he does stop but he quickly cups your breasts with both hands. He feels your rock-hard nipples pushing against his rough palms, kneading your boobs until he finally lets go. 

“Take these off,” he instructs you to pull your shorts down, and you do so. With trembling hands, you swiftly tug them off of your legs. 

“Mmm, fuck,” he grunts behind you, his right hand lowering down from your stomach until it reaches the destination right against your clothed pussy. His fingers slowly trace down your slick, feeling how wet you are through your panties. 

He smirks cockily, “You're fucking drenched, baby. Are you this horny?” he rubs your clit in slow, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure with the tips of his two fingers, your legs shivering. “Want something to stuff that little hole of yours?” 

He pulls your underwear down to your thighs, and you instantly shake it off with your legs. Jungkook pushes your legs apart, forcing your knees up with your feet flat on the mattress. Your cunt flutters around air from the exposure. You whine when his left arm possessively wraps around your stomach, his biceps flexing when he holds you tightly. 

“Stay fucking still,” he growls, his warm hand cupping your bare cunt. He chuckles, prodding his tongue against his cheek as he plays with your folds. He uses two slender fingers to spread your labia apart and you can feel your glistening arousal drip from your hole down to your ass. 

Jungkook hums in satisfaction, spreading your lips wider, making you emit a moan. “Jungkook—”

“No. I want you to call me something…” he elongates the pause in his sentence to suddenly insert the tip of his middle finger in your pussy, causing you to jump. “Something else, baby.” 

“Ah-ahh, what?” your legs couldn't stop trembling as he pushes his finger deeper, your walls sucking it in deliciously. 

You can feel him smirk against the skin of your neck, he snickers, “Starts with the letter D.” 

Your eyes squint in confusion, tilting your head up to look at him. Jungkook, with his glowing red eyes, scans your face with a quirked eyebrow expectantly. 

“Devil?” 

Jungkook scoffs loudly and instantly pushes the rest of his finger in your cunt, immediately pumping in and out at a rapid pace. Your hands quickly hold onto his arm that was wrapped around you, mouth agape from the sudden thrusts. “Ohhh!” your body shakes, leaning your head against him. Electric waves of pleasure run through your body, being new to the sensation. 

He growls as he removes his finger out to slap your pussy harshly, hitting your sensitive clit. “Wrong.” 

“Oww…” you mewl, your hips bucking up from the sting. He does this again, and again, and again, making your eyes watery. He tightens his hold on you, stopping you from squirming too much. 

“Daddy.” He purrs. 

Your body instantly feel a series of shivers. 

“Call me daddy.” Jungkook bites your neck roughly while he inserts his digits back, this time using his middle and ring finger. You hiss in pleasure, eyes tempting to roll back when he brushes the sponge-like texture inside your pussy. 

“Shit, right there daddy,” you curse, rolling your hips against his hand for more. “Right there!” 

Jungkook feels his cock harden even more, precum dripping down his tip as it twitches against his clothes. The way you pronounce that certain word drove him crazy. Jungkook loves how your body easily crumbles beneath him as you allow him to have all the control. He pounds your pussy faster with his hand, putting his bicep to good use. 

You were about to cum, the feeling of a tightness inside your tummy, a ball about to burst at any second. You warn Jungkook, “Daddy, i-i think… I think I'm gonna c-cum,” you sob. 

“I know.” He says simply, fucking you harder. Suddenly, he pushes his index finger in, three digits stretching your walls out. You cry loudly, thrashing around him as high-pitched moans carelessly leave your mouth. “Shiiiiit, d-daddy!” 

“Need to stretch this little pussy out for my cock” he purrs, “cuz’ we don’t want that tiny hole of yours to split into two, right baby?” 

Your toes curl, nails digging into the skin of his arm as you fail to warn him that you're gonna cum any second now. Although he can feel the way your pussy was pulsing around his long fingers. He angled his hand until your clit was brushing against his palm, “Daddy! Ohh fuck, just l-like that!”

Until it all stops. 

All of the pleasure stops when Jungkook pulls his fingers out. 

“Fuuuuuuuck!” you yell, never been more frustrated before as he denies your orgasm. You were about to cum so hard. Your legs shake uncontrollably, scratching his arms as your body shudders. Your poor cunt pulsates rapidly from the sour loss. You were a whimpering, sobbing mess. 

Laughing dryly behind you was Jungkook, licking his fingers clean as he watches your dignity wash away right in front of his eyes. 

“Fuck you,” you scowl, pushing away his arms and turning to face him. “Fuck. You.” 

But he wasn't bothered at all, of course. He was the devil after all. He had no remorse.

Before you know it, Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat and swiftly pulls you close to his face. You gulp, terrified from the intimidating look in his eyes. 

Jungkook thinks that he can easily kill you then and there. If it were a different person, he wouldn't hesitate to snap their neck like a stick. Usually he would feel tempted to physically hurt a person in this kind of situation. But no. He likes you. He likes you too much to kill.

“Take my cock out.”

Even though you hate him for denying your orgasm so brutally like that, you nod your head. Jungkook removes his shirt as you scoot down. You were careful to unbutton his pants, heart rate going faster from the thought of seeing his cock right in front of your face. By the look of the large tent evident, he was gonna be huge. Jungkook watches you with heavy eyes, running his hand through your hair softly. 

You pull the garment down and your mouth visibly waters from the sight. The outline of his cock was evident from his briefs, long and thick and was certainly rock hard. You were so afraid to even touch it as you let your hands sit right on his thighs. 

“Haven't done this before?” he asks, rubbing your cheek with one hand. You shake your head, afraid to look at his glaring eyes. 

Jungkook chortles, quickly pulling his underwear down by himself.

His cock immediately springs out and rests on his abdomen. With wide, surprised eyes, you notice his red tip leaking so much precum, dripping down his abs. You involuntarily whine and wiggle your hips in need, your wetness dripping down your thigh. 

“Take it in your mouth.” He orders, voice strict and demanding. 

“But—” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No daddy.” You whisper, looking away and finally gathering the courage to wrap your hands around his girth. You clench your thighs together when you feel him against your palm – warm and heavy, yet the skin was soft at the same time. When you stroke his shaft up and down watching how his precum pours down to your hands, providing you lubrication as it coats his cock. 

Jungkook throws his head back as he smiles down at you, feeling so good. He bucks his hips up repeatedly, meeting your timid strokes. 

His patience runs out and slaps your hand away, gripping his cock tightly. Suddenly, he slaps his dick on your cheek, making lewd and wet sounds. “Open your fuckin’ mouth.” 

Obeying his command, you wrap your lips around his leaking tip. You taste the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, trying your best to take more of him. His thick girth was making it hard for you as your jaw immediately feels sore. 

His hand flies to grip your hair, making you whine around his cock, causing vibrations. “Look at that pretty little mouth tryna’ take this cock,” he smirks, “Go deeper baby. Gag around my cock if you don't wanna be punished.” 

Your hips swivel in need from his words, pussy soaking like a river. You slack your jaw as you sink down on his cock, trying to ignore the harsh gags when his tip hits the back of your throat. Jungkook growls loudly above you, seeing that the corners of your mouth were dripping in saliva. 

He uses both of his hands to force you deeper. Your eyes start to water when you swallow just half of his big dick, already being too much for you. The harsh and wet gagging sounds were music to Jungkook's ear, loving to see you struggle. “Mhm, fuck yes,” he grunts, “Choke on that big dick.” 

He keeps you down there, feeling sinister as his devilish instincts get the best of him. He ignores your cries and pleads, only focusing on the feeling of the sweet vibrations whenever you moaned around him. Or whenever your throat closes around his shaft when you choked, it was all too good for him. 

You immediately tapped on his thighs furiously when you can't take it anymore, but what did he do? He starts fucking your mouth with sharp thrusts of his hips. You whimper, closing your eyes tight as your nails dig into the skin of his thighs. He grabs you by your head as he uses your poor mouth for pleasure. 

Trying to breathe through your nose, you ignore the burning sensation in your mouth yet it feels too good. “Ahhhh holy fucking shit,” he grunts, feeling your throat tighten, “Look at that – fuck. Bad little girl aren't you? Mhm? You're my bad, naughty girl.” Jungkook mocks, watching the stream of tears drip down your cheeks. 

Finally, he pulled out and there were thick strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. He groans loudly, his cock twitching as it lays back on his stomach. 

“Ohh, c'mere baby girl, come here.” Jungkook whispers and pulls your body close to him. You straddle his lap, feeling his cock beneath your folds that made you hiss. He wraps his strong arms around you, his face inches close to yours. You try not to be intimidated by his menacing eyes, but he notices this and clutches your throat with one hand, squeezing it again that made you inhale sharply. Jungkook sees your pout, your lips bruised from your numerous bites, and he chuckles. 

He tugs you until his lips are right upon your ear. “You wanna cum, baby?” 

Your body shivers from how deep and alluring his voice was, although you nod your head. “Please, daddy.” 

“Oh but do you deserve it? Do you even deserve a cock like mine?” 

You hate how frustrated he can make you. You punch your hands down on his chest, whining, “I-I do…” 

Jungkook quirks a brow up, immediately forcing your hands behind your back. He roughly grasps your wrists together with one hand, surely leaving a red bruise. He bites his lip, “You do?” He swiftly lands a spank on your right ass cheek, making you moan. “Then sink down on my cock.” 

With a puff of your breath, Jungkook helps you align his dick to your sopping entrance. You couldn’t breathe properly, anticipating what will happen as soon as you slowly sink yourself on his thick tip. 

“Ohhh daddy!” Your walls stretch out as you take his tip in, making you feel a harsh, stinging sensation as he rips your walls. If it wasn’t with his impressive girth, it probably wouldn’t hurt as much. Jungkook grunts, his cock throbbing from the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. 

“Fuck yeah,” he watches your pussy take him further, your juices coating his shaft. He tightens his hold on your wrists, slightly bucking his hips up. Jungkook lands another hard, loud spank. 

“Daddy you're so b-big,” you moan, almost halfway down his dick but you can't take more of him anymore. Jungkook gets turned on from the sweet tone of your voice, the thought of tainting such a girl like you made him chuckle. 

Jungkook feeds himself from the idea of corrupting you, letting you know how it feels to truly rebel. Who the fuck cares about what your parents think? Humans are all going to die anyway, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun. 

You start to bounce up and down slowly, your pussy rubbing against him, feeling the thick protruding veins upon your walls. You dig your nails onto your palm, eyes closed shut as you prop yourself up to your feet. 

“That's it, baby. Ride daddy's cock,” he insinuates, watching your face contort in pleasure. With your eyebrows knitted together, eyes shut and mouth wide open, Jungkook’s cock throbs inside of you.

“Look at that fucking face, cant take it?” he snickers. 

“I can, I can,” you pant tirelessly, legs getting sore. Your brows drew deeper as you concentrated on the feeling of his cock hitting your sensitive nerves so good, already so close to an orgasm from how big he is. 

But Jungkook wanted more. He wants it harder, rougher. He wants to shoot his hot cum so hard and deep inside your fresh womb, filling you up. He wants to wreck your body until you break. 

So he releases your hands free and instead grabs a hold of your waist firmly, keeping you still. He plants his feet on the bed and starts to thrust his hips up like crazy. 

Your jaw drops into an ‘o’ shape and you release a particular loud squeal. Your hands hold onto his broad shoulder, throwing your head back as he continues to drill your abused cunt. His balls slap against your ass, creating lewd slapping noises. 

“Dadddyyyyy!” you shriek, eyes expanding so wide from the unexpected bliss of electric currents shooting down your spine. You can't handle it, your orgasm snapping in a quick second. “I'm—!” 

Jungkook groans loudly when your pussy squirts your cum all over his dick and gushes all over his stomach. He fucks you through your mind-blowing orgasm, your eyes rolling back to your head as your legs shake from the unexpecting feeling. Your mind seems to cloud in lust as he doesn’t stop fucking you. 

“Shit,” he laughs, “look at this poor little girl.” Jungkook caresses your ass before he spanks it roughly, emitting a whimper from your mouth, kneading the bruised flesh right after. “Squirting all over daddy. You love my big cock so much, huh? You horny, desperate little slut.” 

Before you can even process what he just said, he flips you over until you lay down flat on your stomach. He hovers on top of you, keeping his dick in without pulling out. You yelp as he wraps his big hand around your throat, tightly squeezing your jugular without mercy. 

“A-ahhh oh—” you choke, letting your forehead down to rest on the sheets as he continues to pound you from behind. 

He had absolutely no mercy, using you as his little fucktoy for his pleasure, abusing your pussy like it was made for his demon cock. He chokes you harder, almost making you see stars. 

Your cunt throbs once again, signalling that another orgasm is coming near. “Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” you moan, heavy puffs of breath coming out of your mouth every time he thrusts into you. 

Jungkook feels his nerves getting hotter and hotter, his cock aching to cum. He doesn't think of anything else but the way your walls clench so tightly around him. “Gonna break this motherfucking pussy of yours,” he growls, leaning down until his chest presses against your sweaty back. “I'm gonna fucking paint your walls with my cum, baby. You're gonna take all of it, you're gonna take all of daddy's cum in that tight cunt.”

Your legs squirm, hands closing into fists as you hit the bed over and over from how sensitive you become. Your hands claw the sheets tightly, back arching from the breathtaking pleasure. 

“Ahhhh daddy! Ohh my fucking— ahhh yes, yes yes!” your body crumbles, mouth wide open as you scream while you cum for the second time. Your pussy pulses so harshly around his dick, coating it with your juices, making it more wet for him. 

He groans, removing his hand from your throat and slaps your ass again. “Naughty little shit right here.” It was so messy, just how he likes it. His cum covered in your glistening arousal, fucking you through your high. 

He immediately flips you around again, making you face him. He smirks cockily from your flushed chest and face, noticing that you were having trouble opening your eyes. 

He leans down and rests his forearms beside your head, “Take it baby, take it.” he murmurs roughly, his balls getting heavier. “Take my fucking dick.”

Your legs never seem to stop quivering, everything around you seems blurry besides Jungkook's face. How does he still look so handsome and perfect? His black hair falls down his forehead, swaying with every hard thrust, his deep dimples peeking through when he bites his lower lip slowly while he savors the feeling of your warm, wet pussy. 

“Gonna cum in you baby,” he pants, holding your cheek in one hand. “Daddy’s gonna cum so fuckin’ hard for you.” You notice a dark, sinister forming his lips as he looks down at you. There it was again, that intimidating, almost teasing look. 

He growls roughly, hips staying still inside you as he dips down to gnaw at your shoulder. You hiss, whimpering when he sinks his teeth so harshly into your delicate skin, leaving an ugly mark. “Ah-ahh, daddy!” His cock spurts out warm strings of his seed, filling you up to the brim. 

“Mmm, mmm, fuck yeah,” he moans, “take it, Y/n.” 

When he pulls his cock out, his pupils enlarge as he sees your arousal dripping out of your cunt and onto your bed. He chuckles, stroking his cock a couple of times to milk himself furthermore, not wasting any of his sperm.

The two of you were breathless, breathing heavily. Your legs feel so sore and you can't feel them either, your ass stinging from his numerous rough spanks. 

“Clean yourself up, Y/n.” Jungkook suddenly throws you a wet towel, about to ask him where it came from, although he just stares at you blankly with a quirked brow. 

Gulping, you nod and start wiping yourself clean. 

~

He can't leave now. Not after all of this. 

There was something that attracted yourself to him. You can't seem to grasp what it is – but whenever Jungkook looks at you in the eyes, you feel like submitting. 

It was like your body doesn't belong to you anymore. He possesses your body now. 

“Crawl to me, my love.” He whispers, and you were easily drawn to his beautiful eyes. 

Still naked, you do as you're told and crawl towards the edge of the bed where he stands. He wears his pants, thankfully covering his goods. 

He sighs and softly caresses your cheek with a warm hand, making you flutter your eyes shut whilst leaning against his palm. He hums delightfully, smirking. 

“Surrender.” He purrs, eyes drooping down as he looks at you with such gentleness, almost with care. He leans down until your faces are mere inches away from each other. “Surrender to me, my love. And I’ll take you to somewhere you belong.”

Your eyes shimmer, batting your eyelashes as you gawk up at him with eagerness. “W-Where I belong?” you repeat in question.

“Yes, Y/n.” He smiles, showing you his perfect teeth. “Where no one will judge you, no one will criticize you for you. You can be whoever you want, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that exciting, baby?”

Mouth getting dry, your nerves heat up once again, feeling nothing but anticipation. “Yes.”

Jungkook holds your face in two hands, compelling you to stare unswervingly at his red eyes. “Submit to me, Y/n, and you’ll never worry about this earth’s dreadful problems.” His voice gravelly yet dark, somehow different to his normal human speaking voice. 

You didn’t know what he really means by ‘submit’, or where he was supposed to take you. But your mind was telling you to go. Your consciousness speaks to you like someone was whispering in your ear what to do. You kneel before him, still keeping eye-contact. The air around the two of your shifts and it suddenly grows warm as your body starts to sweat.

“Where are…” your voice was breathy, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungkook starts to chuckle, brushing your hair back with his fingers. Suddenly, your heart races when he presses a tender, wet kiss on your forehead. Your eyes widen, heart beating out of your chest when he continues to kiss you down to the bridge of your nose, until it stops right upon your lips. He hovers his mouth right against yours, feeling his warm breath.

He whispers the words so ominously that goosebumps appear all over your arms and legs. “I’m gonna take you down to hell.” 

Jungkook watches your face go pale, all the blood leaving your face as you gaze at him with such big, surprised eyes. Without warning, he presses his lips against yours. You can’t keep up with him, his kiss rough and dominating. You whimper when his hand goes to wrap itself around your throat, pulling you closer. His tongue easily slips in your mouth, causing you to gasp. Jungkook smirks through the kiss as he controls the way your mouth moves. The two muscles dance together with such need and passion, hands getting sweaty. 

He bites your bottom lip, chewing on the soft flesh while he gently rolls it against his teeth. Jungkook growls, eyebrows furrowing. He can’t seem to get enough of you, wanting you all for himself. He’s addicted to you; your scent, your beautiful eyes, your body, he doesn’t want to leave this earth without you. 

He needs you down with him. 

Jungkook pulls out as he watches your flushed face, all out of breath. There was nothing else that you could do but whine about the loss of his lips. You were craving more of him. You pout, hoping that he’ll give in but Jungkook just shakes his head with a smirk. 

“Answer me, baby. Go down with me, and I’ll treat you so good.” He insinuates, “I’ll treat you like my own fucking queen. Don’t you want that?” 

You nod your head furiously, “I do want that,” you say softly. 

He clicks his tongue, “Tch, louder.” 

“I want it, please. Bring me with you.” Jungkook watches your pupils dilate, growing bigger as you speak. “Please.” 

Jungkook smiles. And within a flash, the black smoke that was encircling the two of you all this time thickens and starts to wash over the two of you. You cough uncontrollably yet Jungkook just stands there and watches. The smoke fills your lungs until you lose consciousness. 

~

Sounds of the crackling fire fills your eardrums, and your body tries to accommodate the scorching heat of your surroundings. 

Opening your eyes, you see that you’re nowhere in your room, or in the overworld. All that your eyes can see was miles and miles of dark red and black hills, huge torches of fire everywhere, scattered all over the place. There were girls and boys dressed in all black outfits, walking around the place with blank faces, eyes having stripped off of their emotions.

You look down on yourself and thankfully, you were wearing clothes. A tight red dress that hugs your body perfectly, enhancing your curves.

“Y/n.”

A soft voice calls out your name, and you whip around to see Jungkook in his demon form, smiling at you as he sits on his throne. You feel a warm, familiar feeling in your heart as if coming home and going to bed from a long trip. His blazing eyes lead you to a trance.

He beckons you to him for he lifts his right hand out to you. He eyes your body up and down, fixing his posture whilst he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. The way your hips gently sways as you make your way towards him – not losing eye contact – and how your irises burn in desire, it was all that Jungkook asks for.

Your legs move without your permission, leading you up the stone steps to his throne.

His hand was warm when you grasp it, although it was rough and almost hard unlike his human skin, you touch as if there was no difference. You weren’t afraid anymore. Jungkook signals you to sit on his lap, and you gladly obey. With legs on either side of his thigh, you straddle him.

“You’re mine, baby.” Jungkook snarls, “This is your place now.”

“I…” you speak for the first time, “I can’t see my friends and family anymore?”

He shakes his head no with a sly grin.

You exhale, a big smile painting your face. You’ve never felt so content and happy in your entire life.

“Then I love it here.”  

Jungkook makes sure that your angels can’t and won’t look for you anymore. He swears that he’ll protect you in every way possible, promising to shield you from anything that will hurt you. Jungkook looks at your beautiful red eyes, feeling your arms wrap around his neck as you pull him close. 

The last thing anyone should do is trust a devil — and that goes for your foolish angels. 

[bvb-imagines-yay]

Caught in the Act

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

Relationships: Sam Winchester/f!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, female!Reader

Additional Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism

Summary: Sam comes to ask you what you want for dinner but it seems like he might get more than he bargained for.

Sam shut his laptop and stretched. Every muscle in his body ached. How long have I been sitting here? Sam checked the clock on the wall across from him. At least a few hours. He was bad at checking the time when he woke up. It was usually pretty early when he woke up and it seemed to be around dinner by now so it had been a few hours. More than a few hours really. He had been there all day. His lower back ached and his eyes burned. On top of that, his ass had gone numb from sitting there for hours on end. Sam stood up from his spot and placed his hands on either side  of his laptop and pushed himself away from the table. The grumbling of his stomach covered the sound of the chair scraping against the wooden floor. 

Maybe I should round everyone up for dinner. See if they’re hungry too. Sam rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned the library. The desk Dean had sat at this morning had been emptied out and the desk you had sat at this afternoon had also been emptied out. Dean could be out at a bar by now. But you were most likely in your room watching some crappy teen show on Netflix and Sam dare not interrupt that. The last time he did, he got a pillow to the face and yelled at for interrupting your “Link Time” whatever that meant. He could at least check if you were watching something and he could come back later when you were done with the episode to ask what you wanted for dinner. 

He couldn’t put it off forever. The library wasn’t far from your room but the maze of hallways always made the journey feel long. The fluorescent lights didn’t help when all he never actually felt at home-truly at home-in the halls. He rounded the corner towards your room, finding the door slightly cracked. That usually meant that you weren’t too bust watching whatever you liked to watch when you were in your room. It was much better than going to your room and finding a closed door. Closed door meant “Link Time” and no one-no one-was meant to interrupt you when there was “Link Time” to be had. 

The fact that “Link Time” had crossed his mind twice in a matter of moments scared him a bit. Maybe he had been spending too much time with you and dang, were you one beautiful creature. You were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Sure he had seen pretty people before, just ask Ruby or Jessica (if you could even reach them) but your beauty couldn’t compare to either of them. Sam shook his head and stepped towards the partially opened door. 

The sounds of your moans filled the air, echoing off of the walls of your room. They were soft moans. Barely audible and if you weren’t listening then you would never know that you were moaning in there. The moans were almost drowned out by the sounds of something sliding in and out of your wet pussy. Sam’s mouth salivated at just the sounds alone. He didn’t need to smell or even taste it, just the sound of it got him half hard in his jeans. His hand instinctively reached down to rub himself through his jeans. 

“Fuck me,” your voice was desperate as ever. Sam was half tempted to look inside of the room but he already felt dirty enough as it was peaking in on such a private moment. The sounds of whatever was penetrating you sped up. “Please.”

Sam bit his lip so hard that it might bleed, keeping the moan that rose in his throat inside of him. His hand pressed against his hard-on and pressed it down as if he were attempting to stop it from raising. He pulled himself against the wall, not wanting to be seen or heard. Though his shadow on the wall might give him away. From there he had a perfect view of the room and the bed you lay on. You were naked from the waist down, wearing one of the shirts he had given you when you arrived on your doorstep and had never given back. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. One hand was on your breast and the other was moving a…giant dildo in and out of your pussy. It was so much bigger than he could ever be and you were taking it like a champ. Your head was turned away from Sam which made him feel better about looking in on you. 

His cock only grew harder at the sight. Your moans grew louder as your hand moved faster. It seemed like you were getting closer to an orgasm. Sam slowly unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers to his mid thigh. His hand wrapped around his cock, giving it a few cautionary strokes before settling into a speed that was comfortable for him. Your moans hit a pitch higher than they had originally been. His eyes slammed shut. The thought of you was enough to start getting him off. He imagined that his hand was your cunt and he tried to get to your point before you came.

Each movement of his hand brought him closer to your point. Oh how he wished that he was in that room fucking you senseless. How he wanted to remove the toy you were using and use himself to fuck you as senseless. There was more than that…he liked you. He wanted to be with you…in you. He needed every part of you and he wished that a door didn’t separate him. That he wasn’t standing outside like a weirdo and like the freak that he was. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself as he made his way towards the door by an inch or two to get a better look. His hand gripping his cock like it was the last thing holding him to the earth. He had no better way of doing this. He didn’t want to break in and make you feel watched or anything. He didn’t need you to feel violated. 

“Sam,” you moaned and the name came from your mouth as if you had said it that way more than once. “Fuck me, please.” 

Sam’s hand sped up around his cock and he kept the pace as your hand sped up. Your moans coming faster and faster until they came to a fever pitch. Sam spurted his cum out onto the palm of his hand. Your breathing became heavy like you had just fought a demon. His mind becoming clearer. What have I done? His eyes turned towards your form in the bed. Your head had turned towards him, catching him in the act. Red-more like white-handed. 

“Get in here,” you called from inside the room. The dildo you were using sliding out of you with a pop. “I’m sure your cock is better than any toy I could ever have.” 

[superfluffysupernatural]

Caught in the Act

AO3 Link

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

Relationships: Sam Winchester/f!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, female!Reader

Additional Tags: Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Voyeurism

Summary: Sam comes to ask you what you want for dinner but it seems like he might get more than he bargained for.

Sam shut his laptop and stretched. Every muscle in his body ached. How long have I been sitting here? Sam checked the clock on the wall across from him. At least a few hours. He was bad at checking the time when he woke up. It was usually pretty early when he woke up and it seemed to be around dinner by now so it had been a few hours. More than a few hours really. He had been there all day. His lower back ached and his eyes burned. On top of that, his ass had gone numb from sitting there for hours on end. Sam stood up from his spot and placed his hands on either side  of his laptop and pushed himself away from the table. The grumbling of his stomach covered the sound of the chair scraping against the wooden floor. 

Maybe I should round everyone up for dinner. See if they’re hungry too. Sam rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes scanned the library. The desk Dean had sat at this morning had been emptied out and the desk you had sat at this afternoon had also been emptied out. Dean could be out at a bar by now. But you were most likely in your room watching some crappy teen show on Netflix and Sam dare not interrupt that. The last time he did, he got a pillow to the face and yelled at for interrupting your “Link Time” whatever that meant. He could at least check if you were watching something and he could come back later when you were done with the episode to ask what you wanted for dinner. 

He couldn’t put it off forever. The library wasn’t far from your room but the maze of hallways always made the journey feel long. The fluorescent lights didn’t help when all he never actually felt at home-truly at home-in the halls. He rounded the corner towards your room, finding the door slightly cracked. That usually meant that you weren’t too bust watching whatever you liked to watch when you were in your room. It was much better than going to your room and finding a closed door. Closed door meant “Link Time” and no one-no one-was meant to interrupt you when there was “Link Time” to be had. 

The fact that “Link Time” had crossed his mind twice in a matter of moments scared him a bit. Maybe he had been spending too much time with you and dang, were you one beautiful creature. You were the prettiest person he had ever laid eyes on and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Sure he had seen pretty people before, just ask Ruby or Jessica (if you could even reach them) but your beauty couldn’t compare to either of them. Sam shook his head and stepped towards the partially opened door. 

The sounds of your moans filled the air, echoing off of the walls of your room. They were soft moans. Barely audible and if you weren’t listening then you would never know that you were moaning in there. The moans were almost drowned out by the sounds of something sliding in and out of your wet pussy. Sam’s mouth salivated at just the sounds alone. He didn’t need to smell or even taste it, just the sound of it got him half hard in his jeans. His hand instinctively reached down to rub himself through his jeans. 

“Fuck me,” your voice was desperate as ever. Sam was half tempted to look inside of the room but he already felt dirty enough as it was peaking in on such a private moment. The sounds of whatever was penetrating you sped up. “Please.”

Sam bit his lip so hard that it might bleed, keeping the moan that rose in his throat inside of him. His hand pressed against his hard-on and pressed it down as if he were attempting to stop it from raising. He pulled himself against the wall, not wanting to be seen or heard. Though his shadow on the wall might give him away. From there he had a perfect view of the room and the bed you lay on. You were naked from the waist down, wearing one of the shirts he had given you when you arrived on your doorstep and had never given back. Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. One hand was on your breast and the other was moving a…giant dildo in and out of your pussy. It was so much bigger than he could ever be and you were taking it like a champ. Your head was turned away from Sam which made him feel better about looking in on you. 

His cock only grew harder at the sight. Your moans grew louder as your hand moved faster. It seemed like you were getting closer to an orgasm. Sam slowly unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers to his mid thigh. His hand wrapped around his cock, giving it a few cautionary strokes before settling into a speed that was comfortable for him. Your moans hit a pitch higher than they had originally been. His eyes slammed shut. The thought of you was enough to start getting him off. He imagined that his hand was your cunt and he tried to get to your point before you came.

Each movement of his hand brought him closer to your point. Oh how he wished that he was in that room fucking you senseless. How he wanted to remove the toy you were using and use himself to fuck you as senseless. There was more than that…he liked you. He wanted to be with you…in you. He needed every part of you and he wished that a door didn’t separate him. That he wasn’t standing outside like a weirdo and like the freak that he was. He placed a hand on the wall to steady himself as he made his way towards the door by an inch or two to get a better look. His hand gripping his cock like it was the last thing holding him to the earth. He had no better way of doing this. He didn’t want to break in and make you feel watched or anything. He didn’t need you to feel violated. 

“Sam,” you moaned and the name came from your mouth as if you had said it that way more than once. “Fuck me, please.” 

Sam’s hand sped up around his cock and he kept the pace as your hand sped up. Your moans coming faster and faster until they came to a fever pitch. Sam spurted his cum out onto the palm of his hand. Your breathing became heavy like you had just fought a demon. His mind becoming clearer. What have I done? His eyes turned towards your form in the bed. Your head had turned towards him, catching him in the act. Red-more like white-handed. 

“Get in here,” you called from inside the room. The dildo you were using sliding out of you with a pop. “I’m sure your cock is better than any toy I could ever have.” 

[wellhalesbells]

✨✨ TOP FIVES FOR 2020 ✨✨

2020 was, i think we can all agree, a massively chaotic year but i have never consumed as much media before in my life, so i thought others might benefit from my slothery uh, connoisseur.... ship?  yes, that.  below are the books, comics, shows, and movies that got me through!

B O O K S .

the starless sea, by erin morgenstern - i loooove this book because it loves me back.  it says: ‘oh, you’re a reader, well i have just the thing for you.’  it luxuriates in language and story and riddles and fairy tales and it feels like an entire library in a single tome.

they never learn, by layne fargo - oh fuuuuuck, this was satisfying.  i thought it might feel a little exploitative as it is very aware of the zeitgeist and likely would not exist without the #metoo movement but it never ever did.  this was a fucking ROMP, period.  reading about a woman getting away with murdering skeezy guy after rapey guy after shitty human just made me happier and happier.

moonflower murders, by anthony horowitz - this is the second in the susan ryeland series (and the first was hardcore good fun too) and really feels very classic mystery with the artful twist of catering to the literary community.  mainly because: susan isn’t a detective, she’s an editor and she gets drafted in this time because the clue to what happened to a missing woman is in a book she edited, if she can find it.  both of the books in this series have such an excellent coming together moment that is rare af to find.

the invisible life of addie larue, by v.e. schwab - the writing in this is just so good.  it has that feel to me where i just want to drop the book and open up my own page and let my fingers fly.  it’s that inspiring kind of writing that reminds you of all the things language can do.

crown of feathers/heart of flames, by nicki pau preto - aaahhh, this series is SO FREAKING GOOD!  why is there not more of a fandom for it, why???? it is so many of my favorite tropes all resting perfectly together to the point where you almost forget they’re tropes because they just so naturally evolved there.  ugh, it’s just.... it’s so heart-bursty good.

.... number 5, part 2?  raybearer, by jordan ifueko - this was just so original and i was invested af.  like, what a brilliant idea though and an even better execution??  i loved every character and am so looking forward to the next in the series so i can get to know them even better!!

honorable mentions (sh*t i still liked a whole heckuva lot): you/hidden bodies, by caroline kepnes // writers & lovers, by lily king // i’ll be gone in the dark, by michelle mcnamara // the faceless old woman who secretly lives in your home, by joseph fink & jeffrey cranor // girl, serpent, thorn, by melissa bashardoust // a little life, by hanya yanagihara // the guinevere deception, by kiersten white // obsidio (and the entire illuminae series), by amie kaufman & jay kristoff // the bone houses, by emily lloyd-jones // house of salt and sorrows, by erin a. craig // we hunt the flame, by hafsah faizal // savage legion, by matt wallace // blacktop wasteland, by s.a. cosby // crier’s war, by nina varela // the empress of salt and fortune/when the tiger came down the mountain, by nghi vo // upright women wanted, by sarah gailey // the monster of elendhaven, by jennifer giesbrecht // a deadly education, by naomi novik // you let me in, by camilla bruce // when you ask me where i’m going, by jasmin kaur // the lights go out in lychford/last stand in lychford (and the entire lychford series), by paul cornell // the devil and the dark water, by stuart turton // serpent & dove, by shelby mahurin // one by one, by ruth ware // ruthless gods (this was SUCH an upshot from the first book - it’s worth sticking with if you’re on the fence), by emily a. duncan // cemetery boys, by aiden thomas // the inheritance games, by jennifer lynn barnes // the fortunate ones (2021 release), by ed tarkington

C O M I C S .

cosmoknights, by hannah templer - the art was gorgeous, the gayness was glorious, and just.... hot HOOOOOOOOT lady knights in space?!  a princess winning her own hand?  find something not to love in there, i dare you.

don’t go without me, by rosemary valero-o’connell - wow. wow wow wow wow wow.  the writing was stunning, so lyrical and atmospheric and deep, and rosemary has to be one of my favorite artists but even that managed to come as a beautiful surprise because it was just so freaking bold.

through the woods, by emily carroll - i loooove emily carroll, the convergence of spine-tingling horror and art that feeds into it, that is both visually and aesthetically pleasing, is hard to beat!  p.s. i also read beneath the dead oak tree from her this year and it was also a BANGER.

the impending blindness of billie scott, by zoe thorogood - zoe is someone that i just want to follow.  she’s just starting and i want to be there for every single step.  i love her art style and her ability to tell a story with it.

above the clouds, by melissa pagluica - this was so unique, and such a baller concept, as nearly half the entire book is conveyed only through the art and yet you’re never once lost, never once confused as to what any character is thinking or feeling.  it’s a story within a story and only one of those gets words though they both are chock full of emotion!

um.... number 5, part 2? crowded, by christopher sebela - everything about this series is fun af.  crowd-funded assassination and a hirable bodyguard who’s rated like an uber driver???  and the chemistry between the two mains is so great and gay!!

honorable mentions: monster and the beast, by renji // long exposure, by kam ‘mars’ heyward // fence, by c.s. pacat // invisible kingdom, by g. willow wilson // ms. marvel, by g. willow wilson // heathen, by natasha alterici // not drunk enough, by tess stone // giant days, by john allison // die, by kieron gillen // be prepared, by vera brosgol // ascender (sequel to descender, which is also great), by jeff lemire // the unbeatable squirrel girl, by ryan north // bang! bang! boom!, by melanie schoen // gideon falls, by jeff lemire // life of melody, by mari costa // cry wolf girl, by ariel slamet ries // the tea dragon society, by katie o’neill // ptsd, by guillaume singelin // heartstopper, by alice oseman // solutions and other problems, by allie brosh // finding home, by hari conner // the magic fish, by trung le nguyen // something is killing the children, by james tynion iv // the weight of them, by noelle stevenson // spill zone, by scott westerfeld // skyward, by joe henderson // miles morales, by saladin ahmed

F I L M S.

parasite, dir. bong joon ho - oh it was satisfying, oh it was suspenseful, oh i had to watch some of it through my fingers but i loooooooved it.  such a good story and so well made.

knives out, dir. rian johnson - okay, everything about this movie was amazing.  every single character was fun as hell and i could’ve watched an entire movie about each of them.  what a great fucking mystery!

blindspotting, dir. carlos lopez estrada -  this made my heart hurt so damn much.  what glorious writing, acting, and story!

portrait of a lady on fire, dir. celine sciamma - gooooorgeous cinematography, amazing chemistry, and such a soft, atmospheric film.

the farewell, dir. lulu wang - i cried and my heart felt so full and i love it so so much.

um.... number 5, part 2? someone great, dir. jennifer kaytin robinson - no part of me expected to love a netflix movie this much but it’s a love story that doesn’t get told that often??  the end of a relationship and the true love of friendship and i love these girls and i love jenny and nate’s broken relationship.

honorable mentions: eighth grade, dir. bo burnham // booksmart, dir. olivia wilde // midsommar, dir. ari aster // the curse of la llorona, dir. michael chaves // the secret life of pets 2, dirs. chris renaud & jonathan del val // jojo rabbit, dir. taika waititi // the invisible man, dir. leigh whannell // the favourite, dir. yorgos lanthimos // can you ever forgive me?, dir. marielle heller // troop zero, dirs. bert & bertie // ready or not, dirs. matt bettinelli-olpin & tyler gillett // brave, dirs. mark andrews & brenda chapman & steve purcell // the half of it, dir. alice wu // palm springs, dir. max barbakow // doctor sleep, dir. mike flanaghan // uncut gems, dirs. benny sadfie & josh sadfie // birds of prey, dir. cathy van // bloodshot, dir. dave wilson // the old guard, dir. gina prince-bythewood // enola holmes, dir. harry bradbeer // hocus pocus, dir. kenny ortega // always be my maybe, dir. nahnatchka khan // finding dory, dirs. andrew stanton & angus maclane // die hard, dir. john mctiernan

S H O W S .

black sails (2014) - this show, this shooooooooow.  i cannot, it just makes me want to cry with how good it is.  the characters, the EMOTIONS, the story, the plaaaaaan.  like, the creators clearly had a plan for every single step of this show and it was a gOOD, GOOD PLAN.

the untamed (2019) - truly, cheesy good fun with one of the best gay romances ever.  i love these characters and their relationships to each other and the way it glories in its own ridiculousness.

the righteous gemstones (2019) - one of the things that bothered me about my next choice (the ratio of female to male nudity) was so much more realistic in this one (i mean, we’ve all gotten five thousand dick pics and i know like three people?  so the fact that there is so rarely male nudity in shows when there are tits everywhere..... no, how does that even make a tiny bit of sense?).  this show was such great, wonderful, awful fun.  they’re not great people and the show is under no delusion about that and it’s GLORIOUS!

the witcher (2019) - this was just hella fun, i loved the characters and the fantasy elements.  i’m excited for the next season, it’s just entertaining swashbuckling through and through!

fargo (2014) - all of this was really very enjoyable with the through line being somebody fucks shit up and gets involved in something they really shouldn’t be involved in that’s going to swallow them whole.  season one and season three were my stand-out favorites but they were all so violent, clever, and vicious!

um.... number 5, part 2? central park (2020) - um..... so many of the hamilton actors in a muscial cartoon drawn and written by the bob’s burgers team? WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESN’T SOUND AMAZING?!  it was such a joy to hear daveed diggs and leslie odom jr.’s voices again!!

honorable mentions: schitt’s creek // the mandalorian // mr. robot // broadchurch // mindhunter // jack ryan // the good place // the end of the f***ing world // big little lies // elite // kidding // servant // letterkenny // curb your enthusiasm // i am not okay with this // ozark // buzzfeed unsolved: true crime/supernatural // you // runaways // dear white people // dickinson // brooklyn nine-nine // will & grace // 9-1-1 // dead to me // solar opposites // never have i ever // killing eve // what we do in the shadows // grace and frankie // avenue 5 // roswell, new mexico // the bold type // evil // tuca & bertie // impulse // the umbrella academy // watchmen // infinity train // corporate // search party // on becoming a god in central florida // a.p. bio // criminal: uk // the morning show // mythic quest // last week tonight // prodigal son // the great

[frazzledsoul]

So lately I've been thinking more and more about getting into the Gilmore Girls fandom again, which is cute, because the fandom is nonexistent, pretty much (even though the show is actually pretty popular on Netflix even all these years later) and I kind of wanted to talk about how I fell out with it.

I updated a story this week I had not touched for a year. It's my monstrous fic about Jess being Rory's baby daddy and it's 26 chapters so far and I kind of feel it went off the rails about seven or eight chapters ago but Lit fans seem to like it. Literati is not really my ship: I love them, but I also love Rory with Logan and I have written for both and see the merit in both ships. So I'm emotionally detached from it to a certain extent which is not the case with Luke/Lorelai. And I did not really get along or agree with what I thought the "official" opinions were from a lot of L/L fic authors that the fandom as a whole was encouraged to have.

The fact that I no longer talk to a lot of those authors/fans is partially (okay, mostly) my fault. There were a lot of cultural/political/lifestyle differences that couldn't be reconciled, but also a really wide gulf in fandom opinions that couldn't be reconciled, either. The fact that I was not a nice person about certain things last summer didn't help. I've blocked people on here about stuff I now consider petty and have retracted it but basically....I think sometimes online friendships need to stay in certain places and not be placed in toxic environments like Twitter and Discord where things can easily get out of hand. But when you're on a rage-blocking spree it can be hard to talk yourself down from it.

I guess the point I want to make here is that when the show was going on it had a considerable fanbase that was somewhat morally/culturally conservative. I don't think actual politics here is the issue (ASP was pretty clear about where she stood on that one) but if you were uncomfortable with Lorelai sleeping with Christopher while he had a girlfriend and never acknowledging that what she did was wrong and stupid it was okay to say that. If you didn't think it was okay for Rory to be involved with Dean while he was technically married to Lindsay it was okay to say that (not an opinion I share, but it was out there). If Lorelai sleeping with Christopher was a complete deal-breaker for you and you felt you couldn't sympathize or like her anymore after that and that what she did couldn't be justified, it was okay to say that. I feel that in 2016 with certain L/L fans and fic writers dominating the conversation, it wasn't okay anymore to express those types of opinions. Lorelai sleeping with Christopher is just a stupid thing Luke has to get over while we obsess over and over about how Luke failed Lorelai by not giving her the perfect wedding she wanted. It was perfectly okay for her to shove that knife in as far as she could if that's what she needed to do to feel that things were "over".

At the same time, the dominant L/L opinion that we were all encouraged to have was....intensely traditional in places. We were encouraged to believe that Lorelai's need to get married outweighed every other consideration, moral or otherwise, that marriage was going to immediately solve her and Luke's problems even though eloping ASAP would solve virtually none of them, and that Luke once again failed Lorelai by never proposing in the years between the OG series and AYITL despite the fact that it's explicitly stated several times throughout the revival that she did not want that. The dominant opinion here neither respects fidelity or has any room for a nontraditional arrangement, which is an odd combination to have.

There were other issues here, such as the time three popular fanfic writers decided to write stories one after the other about how Luke wearing jeans to dinner at Emily's did not mean he did not have any money and how they had to disabuse Emily of that notion right away because....how dare Luke actually be a person who could not afford nice dress pants. Being poor isn't a moral failure, people, and neither is wearing jeans to dinner. And yeah, fic writers can write anything they want and if I don't like it I don't have to read it and blah blah blah, but I think it's just another example of the "fandom" kind of laying out what opinions one was and was not allowed to have and how one often felt like an outsider for liking Luke *because* he was a redneck.

The thing is that when I go back and read older stories written by fans who were watching the show while it was airing or even fans who write for multiple ships I feel they...understand it more? The older stories understand why Lorelai's actions were so devastating and felt like such a betrayal. There's a writer who wrote in both time periods who has a story where it's explicitly stated that whether Lorelai was technically cheating or not doesn't matter, because it was still a horrible thing to do and she knows it and she's sorry. I honestly never felt as vindicated and validated as I did when I read that take on it. I feel this is S7's view on the situation. It's not like Lorelai tries to argue the point or anything: she knows pretty much right off that it was horrible. Yet the "modern" writers and fans seem to believe that Luke expressing any anger, even temporarily, is worse than what she did. And I feel intensely uncomfortable in a fandom where that is the dominant opinion.

Most of this isn't found in the fics themselves, for the most part, but in the publicly expressed opinions of the writers. And I feel this is a problem, in fandoms: you have your beloved fic writers and your thought leaders and they control the conversation and no one is really allowed to challenge them. Which is kind of why I feel fandoms in and of themselves are toxic: it's unhealthy to let only a few people decide what can and cannot be accepted. Sometimes it's better to let fics stay on the page and not know too much of what the writer's fandom opinions are....or at least, not to the point where it is considered the *only* opinion.

I just have one final thing to say, which is that I feel having the dissenting opinion that cheating is bad and not getting married is not a tragedy if you do not want to do it is something I feel has come back on me when I tried to write my take on L/L: I have a long, angsty story that I needed to write to get it out of me and let Luke say the things he needed to say about what had happened. I went round and round with some of these established writers in the reviews, because there were some very popular and influential fic writers who did *not* like my take on the subject. So there's some pretty solid evidence beyond my feeling that only certain takes on this ship were allowed other than my own insecurity. I feel all of this is unnecessary, and those who sympathized more with Luke than Lorelai should have a space to say why they feel these things.

But any rate, most of this is over now. The only stories really being written are AUs these days (the most prolific L/L writer working now is someone who never watched the revival and whose stories definitely have a more old skool take on things as far as the moral issues go) so all of the stuff in the past that we fought over doesn't matter.

But in case anyone cares....I'm probably updating that angsty fic next week. And it's going to have Jess in it. And he might be a (temporary) manwhore. So I'm sure I'll get some of those reviews again.

[ladyillea]

Rate the likelihood that the girls are virgins pretty please ma’am

((A/N: Hi everyone! Whoever sent this ask, thank you so much cos Si and I had A BLAST coming up with these answers so we hope you enjoy reading them as much as we enjoying writing them! Also please go show Si some love; her comments on these are hilarious!!  - Sanji

If you feel like any of the comments about your character(s) (or others) are inappropriate or uncalled for, let us know!! - Si

A couple of disclaimers:

There's nothing wrong with being a virgin and there's nothing wrong with not being a virgin, just wanna put that out there 😙 - Si

There are quite a few dirty jokes so just a heads up but I would like to say some of those were my best work hahah - Sanji))

Dear Anons, your obsessions with virginities is rather unnerving, but I digress I have a job to do so consider it done: 

Ivy: 5/10 She seems sweet and innocent, but those people can be the wildest in the bedroom. I don't know if I'm convinced, so I'll keep her score in the middle. 

Meredith: 7/10 Most of her hobbies & interests point to her being most comfortable with her own company. Much like her beloved crabs, she might be a hermit too.

Soleil: 10/10 Her name literally means 'sun', which only leaves me to assume that you might get burned if you come too close.

Rosemarie: 0/10 We all know how wild Germans can be. Look at their Oktoberfests.

Diana aka The Viscountess as she loves being called: 0/10 if she consummated her marriage properly.

Dahlia: 10/10 Very wholesome energy and a family girl. She is also one of the youngest Selected so I wouldn't put it past her to wait for 'The One'.

Alassie: 4.5/10 She is intimidatingly beautiful! But perhaps a bit too intimidating? The brave might dare approach her but will they make it to the bedroom?

Ramona: 3/10 Those trail guides provide many trees to be Bridgerton-ed up against.

Rhea: -69/10 Miss Rhea James in her Playboy bunny outfit. That's it. That's the post. Need I say more?

Cornelia: -10/10 You know what they say about pool boys? I bet Pool Girls are no different! I wonder how many marriages Lady Cornelia has broken.

Marissa: 7/10 Chocolates and watching movies seem to be her vibe. Perhaps Netflix and Chilling Alone is a regular occurrence for her?

Kaden: 2/10 Who knows what Indie Pop stars get up to in their studios? Whatever it is, Lady Kaden probably fulfilled her Glorious Purpose. I would have given her a perfect 0 but I'm sure (could-have-been) Second Lieutenant Price doesn't kiss and tell.

Andreia: After our last post about her virgin status, we have confirmed she is indeed one. 10/10 only confirmed virgin Selected thus far.

Arely: 2.5/10 "Do what you will" she says and if that is her motto in the bedroom, then this one sounds to be down for anything.

Valentina: 7.5/10 She seems to take most pleasure out of pulling teeth, that's not the mouth action people are looking for in the bedroom.

Suzy: -15/10 We all know how Waverly Women are, especially those from Queens. A Queen in the streets, a freak in the sheets.

Carmen: 1/10 She might have peaked playing the role of Tree Number Three but she seems like the type to blow off steam, especially when things get stressful during Tech Week. Something tells me that her Stagehand is being put to good use.

[ @ivy-min @thyremainder @theotherladydi @dahliasteele @alassie-marniq @ramona-lisa @rheajames @nellie-fisher @kadenan @rey-oliveira @ladyarely @ysuzy-choi ]

[nickelkeep]

Text Me in the Morning

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Teen and Up Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: none! Written For: Storytime! On Ao3

Dean stirred under the blanket. Something was wrong. He reached out to the other side of the bed, grumbling as he found it lacking a person. He reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the empty spot. "Cas?" Dean lifted his head and looked around the room, slowly sitting up to get a better look at his bedroom. "Sunshine?"

He rubbed at his eyes, letting them readjust. He looked down at Cas' side of the bed and found a note lying on his pillow.

Dean- I'm needed in Heaven. I shouldn't be more than a day or two. I'll see you soon. -Cas

Dean frowned. He had hoped for the sake of whatever angel summoned Cas, that the issue was crucial. It had been weeks since Cas and Dean had started sharing a bed. That had moved to sharing soft touches. And one fateful night after a bad nightmare, the dam between them had finally broken.

Now that he had finally gotten used to it, waking up without Cas next to him felt almost like the bad dream that brought them together.

Dean climbed out of bed and grabbed his robe. If it was going to be a miserable morning, the least he could do was get his coffee fix and try and make the best of it.

Sam was standing at the counter as he entered the kitchen, throwing impossibly green things into the blender. He stopped when Dean started the coffee machine and looked over, a smirk on his face. "Morning, Dean."

"Nothing good about waking up ass-crack of dawn early. You're a freak of nature." Dean watched the wince on Sam's face. "Sorry. Just need my caffeine."

"And it has nothing to do with Cas leaving this morning?" Sam turned on the blender to keep Dean from answering. He pulsed it several times, stopping long enough for Dean to start to answer before turning it back on again. "Sorry about that. Just needed to make sure this is all mixed." He grabbed a cup and poured the puke green mixture into it before taking a sip. "So, Cas left this morning?"

"Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to, Bitch?" The coffee finished percolating, and Dean poured himself a mug. "Something about angel business."

Sam chugged some of his drink. "Interesting. And how would you know that, Jerk? Cause you were still asleep when he left. He walked out with me when I went on my run."

"Your point?"

"We ran into each other as he exited your room." Sam smiled smugly into his cup.

"He left a note on my bed," Dean responded quickly.

"You're so full of shit. Cas left in a pair of your pajama bottoms." Sam set the cup down and poured the rest of the blender's contents into it. "It's also not the first morning I saw him snuck out. I'm sure it's not going to be the last time, is it?"

Dean glared at Sam. "Get to your point."

"So you and Cas... Are you together?" Sam grabbed one of his cardboard granola bars before crossing to the table and sitting down. "No judgment if you are."

"Uh... It's complicated." Dean scratched the back of his neck. "I uh, had a really bad nightmare. He overheard it and woke my ass up." Dean watched Sam carefully. "He offered to keep an eye me, to help me fall back to sleep.” He looked away, hoping that he wasn’t blushing. “It was the best I ever slept. Cas noticed and offered to spend more nights with me. He figured I’d be in better condition that way."

Sam sat at the table quietly, waiting for Dean to continue.

"It moved on from there. Now we occasionally blow off some steam." Dean took a moment to watch several expressions run across his brother’s face. Excitement. Joy. Confusion. And now Classic Bitch Face #127. "What?"

"Just blowing off steam?" Sam glared at Dean. "So, you haven't been honest with him, or you haven't been honest with yourself?"

"Excuse me?" Dean set his mug on the table and crossed his arms, staring at Sam.

"It means that you're in love with Cas, and won't admit. Figures my brother is a coward."

Dean jabbed his finger in Sam's direction. "You... You don't know what you're talking about." He turned and started to storm off, stopping only to backtrack and grab his coffee, before retreating to his room.

...

Sam sat quietly in the peace of the library. Between texting with Eileen, researching a possible hunt, and maybe playing an occasional game on his phone, the morning’s events ended up pushed to the back of his mind. As he finished sending off a response to Eileen, Dean came barging into the library.

"Sam. Did you say something?" Dean slammed his hands on the table in front of him. "What the hell did you do?"

"Me? What are you talking about? I've been in here since,” He picked up his phone and looked at the time. “Since breakfast." Sam rested his chin on his hands. "Is Cas back?"

"YOU DID CALL HIM!"

"First and foremost, Dean. Cas went to do Angel stuff. He can't get phone calls in Heaven, so why would I even attempt to call him?" Sam paused and tilted his head. "Second, I'm not going to pester him about your insecurities."

"Then what the hell is this?" Dean pulled out his phone and slammed it down on the table, flinching slightly and picking it back up to check the screen. "I don't understand this."

Sam held up a finger before pointing at the chair that sat across from him. He stood up as Dean took the seat and crossed over to another table. Sam picked up two glasses and a decanter of whiskey before returning to his own chair. Popping the lid off, he poured a glass for Dean and one for himself. "What's wrong?"

"Cas uh... Cas, well..." Dean picked up his phone and unlocked it before sliding it across the table to Sam. "I am warning you. From brother to brother. Don't scroll up."

"Yeah, I'll take that to heart." Sam picked up the phone and read the screen that Dean had presented him.

[Dean, 9:31 AM]: I forgot how big my bed is.

[Cas, 10:00 AM]: Why is that?

[Dean, 10:01 AM]: I haven't woken up alone in a few weeks now. [Dean, 10:03 AM]: It wasn't nice waking up without you.

[Cas, 10:15 AM]: I'm sorry to have made things uncomfortable for you.

[Dean, 10:17 AM]: Cas, Buddy. That's not what I meant. [Dean, 10:25 AM]: Seriously, dude. I mean, I like what we have going on. [Dean, 10:35 AM]: Cas?

[Cas, 10:37 AM]: You might enjoy what we have, but I'm afraid I don't. [Cas, 10:39 AM]: It's getting hard for me to maintain this casual relationship.

Sam looked up from the phone and smiled at his brother. "You're upset over this?" He reread the conversation and took a screenshot, texting it to himself. "There is nothing to be upset over here. This is a good thing!" Sam picked up his phone and sent the screenshot to Eileen, adding on, "Dean thinks Cas wants to leave."

"He doesn't want to keep the relationship, Sam. Cas says it right there." Dean pointed at his phone.

"What I see is you complaining that he let you sleep in so he could go do angel stuff, and then him saying that he wants more." Sam's phone went off, and he checked the text message from Eileen. She replied that she had come to the same conclusion. "Dude, even Eileen, who doesn't have the context I have..." He turned his phone so Dean could read it.

"You sent her a picture of my text with Cas?" Dean tossed back the rest of his whiskey and poured himself another. "What the actual hell?"

"Dean! I needed you to know that you're reading it wrong. And Eileen also sees what I see." Sam stopped and rubbed his temples with his thumbs. "Do you honestly think that Cas would want to stop what you two are doing completely?"

Dean nodded. "He's probably figured out that I'm not good for him. He's an angel for fuck's sake. They're not even supposed to... whatever it is he and I had."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam downed his own whiskey and leaned back in his chair. "I mean, he looks away when you look at him, and you look away when he looks at you, but let me tell you about the way you two stare at each other."

"Shut up."

Sam shook his head. "Not this time. I have literal proof on my phone, from yours, that Cas cares about you. You're the one that's not reading it correctly."

"I can read what's on my phone, Sam." Dean slides his phone up and down the screen. "Maintaining what we have is hard for him."

"Because he wants more!" Sam dragged his hand down his face. "I know you can't see what a good guy you are under the self-doubt that Dad piled on top of you, but Cas does. If anyone knows you better than me, it's Cas. He rebuilt you from the ground up. He knows you inside and out, heart, body, and soul."

Dean shook his head. "I still think you're wrong." He slid his phone into his pocket and finished off the second glass of whiskey. "Any milk runs nearby?"

"No. I'm still researching this one, but it might be one that's our kinda thing." Sam looked down at his notes, disappointed but understanding Dean's need to drop the conversation. "So, get this. A few abductions following a pattern, the bodies show up, but the locals aren't releasing any details. Probably thinking it's a serial killer and not wanting to spawn a copycat." He looked back up. "Dean?"

"Huh?" He looked up from his phone. "Cat Serial Killer. I'm listening."

"No, you're not." Sam set his pen down. "You’re distracted, afraid that you're going to lose Cas when he clearly wants more." Sam pointed at Dean, trying to make his voice as stern as possible. "Call him. Or I will."

"You wouldn't dare." Dean jabbed his finger at Sam before standing up and storming out of the library.

Sam picked his own phone up. "Bet me."

…

Dean flipped through Netflix on his laptop. Sam didn't want to get involved in his love life. He wouldn't do anything. Right? Dean slammed the lid of his computer shut and set it on the nightstand. He let out a huff of frustration and rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillows. Dean groaned, his frustration muffled by the softness surrounding his head.

"Hello, Dean."

"What?" Dean shot up, quickly scrambling to his knees and turning towards the foot of his bed. "Cas?"

"You were expecting somebody else?" Cas looked at the door. "I hadn't heard from you since your last text message. I was concerned.”

"You were waiting for one?" Dean grabbed his phone and looked over his texts. "The last one you sent was over five hours ago."

Cas nodded. "And it is still sitting, unanswered."

"Sorry, Cas." Dean looked up from his phone. "I just... I didn't realize you didn't like what we have. I thought maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Cas took off his trenchcoat and jacket, laying them on the back of a chair, as he crossed to the bed and sat down on his side. He bent over and untied his shoes, kicking them off to the corner of the room. "Dean?"

"I uh..." Dean shook his head. "You're getting undressed?"

"I'm getting comfortable. I made a point of getting done early so you wouldn't have to sleep alone." Cas repositioned himself on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He patted the spot next to him. "Come talk to me?"

Dean crawled up the bed and sat next to Cas, mimicking his position.

"I know that my return is surprising you, especially considering that I said I would be gone for a day or two. But it seems like something else has caught you off guard.”

"Your text." Dean held up his phone again. "You said that you couldn't maintain our relationship. I thought you were ending this between us."

Cas chuckled. "I know Sam said you misunderstood, but I wasn't expecting this level of self-doubt."

"That fucker did call you!" Dean ran his hand down his face.

"And with good reason, it appears." Cas took Dean's hand and held it tightly. "Dean, do you know how much you mean to me?"

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure at the moment." Dean holds up his hand. "I know we're friends, and I know that you care about me. I just don't know how much. It felt like I was disposable earlier."

"That was never my intent, Dean. I meant that I can't continue this as a casual relationship." Cas tugged on Dean's hand and pulled him into his arms. "I meant that I need you to know that I love you. That I don't want to be just a fling that hides in the bedroom, waiting until we know the hallway is clear."

Dean raises an eyebrow in confusion. "You talked to Sam this morning too."

"That may have been the case, yes." Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair. "He wasn't exactly surprised to see me walk out of your room, and he may have cornered me."

"Goddammit, Sam," Dean grumbled quietly under his breath. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't feel pressured–"

"Dean." Cas placed a finger over Dean's lips, effectively stopping him from talking. "Sam merely asked why I was in your room. Then when I said I was leaving a note, he pointed out that I obviously forgot that I was wearing your pajama pants."

"He mentioned the same thing to me. And about walking outside together as he went for his walk." Dean leaned into Cas. "What did you tell him?"

Cas smiled, a rare show of affection from the angel, and Dean felt his face flush with warmth. "I told him what I just told you. I love you."

"Really?" Dean felt his jaw drop a second time. "You're not going to break up with me?

"I wouldn't dream of it." Cas pulled Dean closer, claiming his lips as he pulled Dean into his lap.

…

The next morning, Sam stopped in front of Dean's door. He knew that he might have crossed a line, pushing Dean to confessions and admissions he may not have been ready to share. Sam adjusted the tray he carried, careful to make sure the coffee or cereal spilled out of their respectful vessels. He knocked on the door, waiting to hear Dean yell at him or shuffle across the room. Hell, Sam half expected the sound of a boot hitting the door, followed by profanities.

After waiting a moment with no sound, Sam knocked again, a little louder. "Dean?"

He waited a few more minutes, slightly perturbed that there was no sound coming from the other side of the door. Sam tried the doorknob and was surprised to find the door unlocked. He turned it and pushed the door open as quietly as possible. As he entered the room, Sam nearly dropped the tray, scrambling to rebalance it.

In the bed, Dean looked like he was fast asleep. It was - without a doubt - the most peaceful sleep he had ever seen his brother enjoy.

Yet it was Cas, cuddling Dean, holding him tightly, that surprised Sam the most. He had thought that Dean would have found a way to sabotage himself, to chase Cas away. Sam walked in quietly and set the tray down on Dean's table. As he started towards the door, a voice behind him startled him.

"Here to say I told you so?" Dean yawned out, burrowing deeper into the blanket.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Dean." Sam pointed to Cas. "I'm just glad you listened to me and didn't push him away like I thought you would."

Dean waved his hand, shooing Sam out of the room. "I hear you loud and clear." He paused. "Thanks, Bitch."

Sam chuckled, exiting the room. "You're welcome, Jerk."

[hearteyesbowen]

hey can you do a joshua imagine where the reader is having a really bad day and he just comforts and spoils her? thank u sm

hold me closer ☆ joshua bassett

josh decides there is only one logical thing to do when y/n is having one of the most stressful days of her life

warnings: fluff

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Soft tunes coming from your car radio ran through your ears, your head leaning back against the headrest. You had already ran out of tears, now you just sat restlessly, focusing on your breathing and calming your heart rate. Your forehead and cheeks were damp, you couldn’t tell if it was sweat from the heat radiating through the vehicle or from the cries wiped across your face. Strands of your hair lay in different directions, mostly because of how much you shuffled it in your hands out of frustration.

It had been almost an hour since you came home from school, the day filled with anger-inducing teachers giving lectures and annoying classmates who couldn’t let you focus on your own work. Homework assignments and class work with no decent explanation on how to answer being piled on top of each other, and a pop quiz that you barely understand and bombed completely. At least it’s friday?

Pulling out your phone, you stared at your lock screen for a few seconds before it turned back off; it was Josh sitting on a tree branch, waving at you with his signature smile. A small smile swept across your face, then with a loud huff, you decide to text him.

Y/N

can i come over? i’m not feeling too great

Within a few seconds, you saw his name pop up onto your screen with a loud ding.

Joshy 💕

you don’t have to ask, hurry up!

You grabbed your backpack that was thrown into the passenger’s seat and opened your door. Fumbling with the keys in your hands, you unlocked your front door and trudged to your room. You left your school backpack by your bed and looked for your other bag. You didn’t have to worry about bringing extra clothes, some of yours were left at his house in case you wanted to sleep over. Before leaving, you told your mother you would stay at Josh’s house for the night, and quickly made your way to your car.

➢➣ ➢➣

Walking up the path to Josh’s house only made you grow more hungry for some sort of interaction that wasn’t an adult or stranger. You hadn’t realized how much you’ve missed seeing your boyfriend these past few days. School has been slowly taking over your life and you barely realized how much you have ignored him.

Once you reached the front door, you lifted your hand to knock, but instead you were taken back when the door swung open before you could touch it. Josh was standing inside, a worried smile and flushed cheeks.

“I was waiting for you by the window, I got excited to see you.”

Suddenly you couldn’t form any words. Your throat was dry and you felt your breathing halt. Your vision slowly got cloudy, and your legs began to feel unsteady.

Josh noticed immediately and grabbed onto your waist, bringing you into his chest. Your arms flew to wrap around his shoulders as you buried your head into his neck. He made sure to hold you tightly, worried that you would fall. His hands rubbed up and down your back, trying to soothe you as you sobbed into him. He didn’t dare to let go, he had been wanting to hold you again but didn’t think it would be like this. You slowly lifted your head, looking up at his somber expression. One of his hands moved up to your face, wiping away the wet trails left behind and moving hair from your face to behind your ear. His lips came to touch your forehead, letting his kiss linger for a few seconds.

“You want to sit down and tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was barely a whisper.

You nodded your head, making Josh dip down to scoop you up from under your legs and carrying you as if you were his bride. He carefully walked to his room, trying not to move too quickly to prevent a possible headache or dizziness.

Once he sat down on his bed, you now sitting on his lap, he leaned down to kiss your cheek. A small blush formed on your cheeks, already making you feel better.

“Tell me everything, sweetheart.”

You let out a slow breath, reaching out for his free hand and playing with his fingers.

“I’ve just been having the worst few days recently. All my teachers make me so mad and I’m just not understanding any of the work we’ve been doing and I’m scared to ask them for help because they might get mad at me for being too dumb and I’m scared that I’ll fail all my classes and we have so much work that I can’t keep up with and my classmates are just the most annoying people ever and I don’t know what to do.”

You began to hyperventilate, quickly feeling the stres rush through you again. Josh held onto you tighter, pulling you as close as he could while he rubbed your arms. You tried your best to calm yourself down, preventing yourself from crying again.

“And I feel so bad for not texting you back as quickly or not being able to answer your calls because I was trying to do my work and I’ve just been a terrible girlfriend-”

“No, don’t say that, you’re literally the perfect girl. I’m not going to be mad at you for doing homework and trying to learn, I know it’s tough.” He smiled down at you, trying to make you feel better. “I love you, ok? You’re here now, and it’s the weekend, so I’ll take care of you.”

“I love you, Joshy.”

Your hands crept up to hold his cheeks as you leaned in, planting your lips on his. It was nothing too rough or passionate, but slow and gentle. His smile peaked through, making you follow. Oh, how you’ve missed this.

He pulled away, leaving his forehead on yours. “I’ll be back, I’m going to get you some water and something to eat.” He carefully set you down on his bed, quickly running to the other side to grab his teddy bear. “Franklin will keep you company while I’m gone.”

You giggled as he gave you the bear, clutching it tightly to your chest. It smelled somewhat like him, probably because you knew he slept with it every night, as much as he denies it. He sprinted out of the room, his footsteps loud enough for you to hear from downstairs.

Ten minutes went by, and you started to wonder what this boy could be doing. That is, until you heard something drop and a small curse from behind the slightly open door. You watched as his door was slowly pushed open, showing his back. He turned around and you couldn’t help but smile at what he was holding.

“I didn’t know what you were craving at the moment, so I just brought a picnic basket with all your favorite things.” He said proudly.

You patted the area next to you, motioning for him to sit with him. He skipped to the other side, climbing onto the bed with you. The basket was set in between you two, and he rubbed his hands excitedly before he opened it.

“I brought water and lemonade, some chocolate from that one candy store you really like, some chips just in case you wanted something salty, and some fruit so it feels like we’re eating healthy.” He exclaimed, showing you each of the items.

His eyes brightened, as if he gained another idea. He jumped off from the bed and ran to the other side of the room, searching through one of his drawers. He pulled out a pink candle and some matches.

“Why do you keep matches in your room?” You wondered, watching as he turned off the lights and placed the candle next to you on his bedside table.

He picked up a match and striked it against the box, erupting a bright fire and putting it along the candle wick. “I bought some after I bought this candle.”

You blew out the match as he held it closer to you, laughing as he fanned the smoke coming to his face. He grabbed his laptop from his desk and went back to sit down next to you on his bed.

“We’ll watch some movies together, too. I’m going to make sure that you feel real better really soon.”

As Josh opened Netflix and quickly picked a random movie, you picked up a grape from the basket and looked at him giddily. He sat up and opened his mouth, letting you throw it at him. The fruit his forehead, causing the both of you to laugh.

He scooted closer to you, opening his arms for you to cuddle him. You snuggled up to his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso and his around your shoulder. Nothing else mattered as he held you closer, just you and him laying down, laughing and spending much needed quality time.

You looked up from the movie after a few minutes, taking in the sight in front of you. His smile made you turn warm. His eyes glanced between yours and your lips, until he leaned down to kiss you once again. Your hands went to his cheeks as his moved to your waist, his kiss deepening as the white noise from the movie slowly blurred out.

Yeah, you could get used to relaxing like this.

A/N - hi im back . im still so sorry for leaving and stuff but hey im back now and slowly releasing these really late requests . if u want to know what happened i made a post on saturday so go check that if u want idk . but anyways i hope u like this one, love y’all so so much xx

taglist - @love-joshy @mzzjads

[jawritter]

Second Chance

Part 2 (Final)

Warning: Angst, heartbreak, unrequited/requited love, young mistakes, light smut, unprotected smut, depression, panick attack, language, domestic voilence (a slap), I think that’s it.

Summary: No one has life figured out at 18, but can one mistake made and twenty-one years of hurt and regret be fixed with an “I’m sorry?”

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3885

A/N: This is one of my older stories from WattPad that I wanted to bring over here and clean up a little. This is completely unbeta’d, and all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold! Part two will be posted tomorrow! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!

***MASTERLIST***

Jensen's POV:

Jensen pulled his baseball cap down lower over his face to hide his features from unsuspecting passing customers, his eyes glued on the door, as he ideally ran his finger over the rim of his coffee that had gone virtually untouched in front of him as he sat in the back booth at the little coffee shop in Dallas that he quite honestly couldn’t even remember the name of.

Jessie had said she'd meet him here over an hour ago, now she was late, and he was quickly losing his patients.

The coffee shop was already filling again for the second time since Jensen had taken his seat. He watched the people closely, afraid at any moment someone was going to figure out who he was and blow his cover. 

He'd gotten pretty good at hiding mind you, he'd been doing it since he was roughly eighteen years old, so he'd learned a few tricks to keep people kind of at bay when he really didn't want them around, or want to be noticed.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and shot Jessie the third text of the morning.

"Where the fuck are you?! I've been waiting for you for over an hour!"

Sitting the phone back down on the counter he waited for her reply, but no response. There were even more people filtering in and out of the coffee shop now, she must not be coming. It's probably for the best if he just leaves, and gets her to meet him somewhere else later. The longer he sat there, the longer he ran the risk of someone he knew walking in, or some fan figuring out who he was.

He’d just shoved the phone back down deep in his front pocket and was about to pick up his coffee and head towards the door when the shrill ding announcing someone’s entrance into the little shop made him look up, finally she was here.

Jensen watched her as she made her approach with a cold, dead look he usually reserved for his ex-wife. She looked at him completely unfazed by his sour temper as she made her way closer, and flopped down at the little table across from him. 

“What took you so fucking long?" Jensen almost snarled. 

"Fuck you asshole, I can walk out of her right now, and without me, you have zero chance with Y/N again? So what's your choice? You can either start treating me with some respect, or you can figure out how to get her to talk to your sorry ass all by yourself? Dealer's choice." she said coldly, looking at him like he was the most disgusting thing she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Fine, fine!" Jensen said, throwing his hands up in frustration and then glaring at her like if he could get away with it, and she wasn't a girl, he'd probably punch her in the face.

Another few moments or so silence passed with the two of them glaring at each other while Jensen's blood pressure simmered back down to a normal rate before he dared to speak again. 

"So, have you talked her into going out again?" Jensen said, taking a deep breath to steady himself. 

"No." 

"Well, then why the fuck did you say you wanted to talk to me! If you don't have information for me on where she's going to be then you're not...."

"Jensen!" 

"Ssshhhh!! Someone will recognize me!!" 

"Ugh!! I'll be so glad when the two of you kiss and makeup so I don't have to look at you anymore!"

"Feelings mutual, sweetheart!"

About that time Jessie's phone started to ring, effectively ending the argument between them. Looking down she saw it was Sherry and quickly silenced it. Jessie was already late for work, and if she kept this up she was going to get fired, and also caught in the middle of this drama, which is exactly what she had told Jensen she didn’t want to happen when he’d messaged her, asking for her help in fixing his fuck up.

"Look, let's just get this over with, I don't want people to know I'm still in Dallas, they'll start to ask questions," Jensen said with a huff of frustration, sinking lower into the booth seat.

"Fine, Y/n will not leave her apartment again, not with us or with anyone else. She's been locked in her apartment since the night we dropped her off when we left the bar, she's been working from home, she hasn't left the house at all. It's almost like she's slipped into some sort of depression. I don't think we're going to get her to go out with us again, so we might have to take a different approach." Jessie said, staring coldly at that man sitting across from her.

"Okay, then what do you suggest we do? " Jensen said, taking his hat off and carding his hands through his soft hair in frustration before putting the cap back in place harshly.  

Your POV:

It had been three weeks since you saw Jensen at the bar that night. It had set you back worse than you thought it ever could. Every time you closed your eyes all you could see was his face. You'd even been dreaming of him more than you had in the last three years. It wasn't healthy to say the least, and you were seriously starting to wonder if you had just dreamed it up, and had that nervous breakdown your therapist had warned you about.

All the progress you had made over the years in getting over him had seemed to spiral, and it had taken you three days to even get out of the bed once you stumbled through the apartment door. 

There was no doubt in your mind that after all these years you were still in love with this man, even though you were sure he'd ever loved you. Still, the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Over and over again you kicked yourself over the past three weeks for not accepting his offer to just talk. That damn ring when you saw it on his hand was like being nailed in the gut, by a ball pin hammer, just as hard as he could swing it.

He'd been able to do what you couldn't. He'd been able to move on, he'd been able to find love, and here you were alone. 

You hated him, but you loved him. To you that made no sense whatsoever, but there it was. 

You hated him for abandoning you all those years ago, you hated him for pushing you away, when all you'd ever done was love him, you hated him for giving up on you.

You loved him because it was something you just couldn't control. The way he smiled, those beautiful jade-colored eyes that always seemed to dance with an air of mischief that made your knees weak. You could still remember his scent, the way his strong arms felt when they wrapped around you all those years ago. You loved him because just with one smile he made your heart feel like it could leap out of your chest and fly around the room, you loved him, and for a lot of reasons, you didn't even know why still you did.

There were no denying things had changed in him. Even in the dim light of the bar, you could see that boy you fell in love with in Dallas was long gone, and a man had taken his place. The deep lines around his eyes, the way he carried himself, strong, confident. His voice was much deeper than it was back then, and even though his eyes were the same, the grey in his beard told you the boy he was back then was long gone, and really, you were in love with someone you didn’t even know anymore. He was a far cry from the boy that had taken your virginity all those years ago. 

He’d lived, and you hadn’t, simple as that.

He chose money, fame, and fortune over you. You would have given him everything, a family, a warm home to come home to. 

Then again, you guessed he'd found someone to do that for him, so again that rendered you useless.

Supernatural had been playing on your TV through Netflix for days. You just couldn’t stop watching it, and you couldn't stop kicking yourself. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and more than anything, you couldn't fill the hole that was in your chest, one that had almost closed, and was just a piece of you that was missing, now was ripped open and bleeding, and there was no way to make it go away.

Thank God your job allowed you to work from home. You just could do it. You couldn't deal with people, not in person, you couldn't go pretty yourself up and act like everything was fine, because it wasn't fine, and you didn't feel pretty. 

You weren't pretty enough for Jensen all those years ago, and you're not enough for him now, so why even try?

A loud knock on the door disturbed you from your self-loathing.

It was probably Sherry or Jessie. They were just worried about you, you know that, but you just hadn't been able to face them. The way you just completely broke down in the Uber on the way home was just embarrassing, and the fact that you couldn’t seem to pick yourself back up again was borderline humiliating on a whole different level.

Now apparently they'd given up on calling you and had just decided to show up. Well, you were a little impressed it had taken them this long actually.

"Go away! I don't feel like talking yet." 

Nothing, just another pounding knock on the door in response.

After sitting there a moment in confusion, you remembered Sherry knew where the spare key was, so it couldn’t be them. Getting up slowly you made your way to the door, pulling it open you looked through the crack and who you saw nearly knocked you on your ass.

"JENSEN!" you half yell, shocked to see that beautiful face on the other side of the door, and for just a moment you thought you were hallucinating. 

"Hey, can I come in or you just going to make me stand out in the hallway?" he said, looking around like he was afraid you were going to slam the door shut in his face. 

To be completely honest you thought about it, you just couldn't deal with the guilt and the “what ifs” this time if you did like you'd been dealing with for the past three weeks.

Pulling the door shut just enough to remove the chain lock that was placed on the door you open it, stepping back and letting him into your apartment. 

When you shut and relocked the door you turned around to find him staring at you, a look of concern painted over his God-like face as his eyes raked over you.

You walk around him and head for the TV, turning it off before he could see himself walking with a flashlight across the screen.

"What are you doing here Jensen?" you ask him, sitting down on the couch to keep your legs from falling out from under you. You didn't realize how weak he still made you, even after all these years.

"I wanted to see you, to talk to you." 

"Why? You said all you had to say to me 21 years ago." you watched as he visibly flinched at your sharp words. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry, I was young and stupid, I should have never let you go, I should have never let you walk away from me, I've regretted it since you have. I just haven't been man enough to tell you..." 

Standing up you cross the floor and get right in his face. A boldness you didn't have just five minutes ago springing out of nowhere, and anger burns deep, deep down in your belly. 

"Don’t come at me with your lies Jensen!” you scream at him. 

Bringing your hand up you slap him hard across the face before you could stop yourself. Not able to even control your own actions anymore, all you could see was red.

Your own pulse quickened in your ears as your slap staggered him back against the bar, and his hand flew up to the side of his face that was quickly turning red. You didn’t care, at that moment you didn’t even see it, all you could see was years, and years of hurt, and rejection.

“You’ve suffered so much huh?! With your perfect little wife, and kids that live in a fucking mansion on the lake in Austin! You really just expect to walk back into my life, say your sorry, and all the years of hurt would just magically go away? Fuck you!

You raised your hand to slap him again, but this time he caught it with his left hand, standing to tower over you he backed you against the wall, pinning you there with his solid form, using his sheer size and body weight to hold you there and keep you from hitting him again.

Through all the anger, through all the hurt, through the blinding tears that were now rolling down your face, there were two things you registered. First was the overwhelming feeling of his body weight pressing you, grounding you, and by some miracle, pulling you back down from your fit of rage his apology had triggered. 

The second and most important thing was that his wedding band was gone.

All your strength at that moment was gone.  The adrenaline crash hit you hard, and your knees buckled, a loud ringing taking the place of your pounding pulse in your ears, and your vision going white at the edges.

Jensen reached down and scooped you up into his arms before you could hit the floor, pulling you tight to his chest and bringing you over to the couch. Sitting down this you wrapped his arms, cradled in his lap like a small child. 

It was hard to breathe as the tears flowed down your face now, your chest felt so tight that you were almost certain you were breathing through a straw, even though your breath was coming in pants, the overwhelming feeling of passing out made your head spin, and your body began to shake.

Jensen shushed you over and over again, running his fingers through your hair, which gave you something else to focus on. “Breath for me Y/n, come one breathe with me.” 

You focused on the steady rise, and fall of his chest against you, the scent of his cologne, the steady brush of his hand through your hair, and before long you were able to focus enough to take a breath.

“That’s it, baby girl, fuck I’m so sorry sweetheart, this is all my fault.” 

This was a result of twenty-one years of hurt, hurt that he caused, and he knew it.

When you'd finally calmed down he put a finger under your chin and forced you to look up at him.

"I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you, I'm sorry that I did this to you, I'm sorry that I was a fucking coward, I was afraid to find you, afraid to admit I was wrong, I'm sorry it took me twenty-one years to get enough balls to apologize to you. I know that’s enough, but I plan to stick around and do everything I can to make this up to you. I'm not married anymore. I didn't love her, I tried to, I really did, but I just couldn't, So I did the right thing, and I let her go so she could go and find someone that can make her happy."

You sat there staring at him like he'd popped out a third head. You wanted to pinch yourself to see if you were dreaming, or if you were dead. 

"So I came here to find you, the one person that has ever really made me happy. Your parents wouldn't tell me where you were, so I found your friend Jessie, she was going to get you to come to the bar that night so I could try and talk to you. I'm sorry about that too. I didn't know I'd hurt you this way. If I did I wouldn't have sprung myself on you." 

Crawling off of his lap and sitting down on the couch next to him you tried to make sense of what he was telling you.

"So what do you want from me? After all these years, what do you want from me now?"

You tried to understand, but you just couldn’t. Hell if you weren’t good enough all those years ago to make him want you, why the hell did he think you would be enough now?

Moving to the floor, Jensen got down on his knees in front of you, grabbing your hands in his. He looked like it took all the strength he had not to start crying himself, which only made more tears flow from you as you watched him bite down on his lower lips for a moment before he spoke.

"I want a second chance with you, I know I have no right to ask you for one, and you have every right to tell me to fuck off, and if you do I'll leave, and I'll never come back If that's really what you want, but sweetheart please, please give me a chance to fix this. Let me fix what I broke all those years ago." 

His thumb made little circles on the back of your hand, and he broke eye contact with you, looking down at the floor as he waiting for you to tell him to go fuck himself.

All those years you'd prayed he'd come back. All those years you'd dreamed he wanted you again. Here he was, and if you didn't give him another chance now, he was gone for good, and that would be all, you'd die right here, you'd never be able to recover.

Jensen took a shaky breath drawing you back to the present. 

"Please Y/N, say something?" 

Putting your hands on either side of his face you did the only thing your brain would let you do. You pulled him to you, crashing your lips to his. 

At first, he sat there shocked, but he caught up quickly though. Getting off his knees he crawled his large frame over yours, laying you both back down on the couch you were sitting on, holding his weight on you just enough to make you feel safe, for the first time in a long time.

"So I guess that means yes???" he said, lifting a perfect eyebrow and looking at you with the cutest little expression on his face, his eye crinkles showing just enough to make your heart melt.

"Yeah, but you got a shit ton of makeup to do Ackles," you tell him through tears, smacking him on his solid chest playfully.

"Well darlin’, let me start now," he said, bringing his lips softly back to yours before standing and dragging you with him, pulling you towards the open door of your bedroom.

Your mind worked on autopilot as he backed you into the room, closing the door with his large foot, and like jolts of electricity being shocked to a still heart, every lingering touch of his hands trailing your body, and every passionate kiss that made you breathless seemed to wake you up again. 

This wasn’t some quickie in the back of his truck in the middle of the wood. There was no rush to this, there was no hurry in the way he lowered your body on the bed, and crawled his way over every inch of skin, leaving a trail of kisses he went. 

There was no uncertainty in the way he looked into your eye as he pressed himself slowly into you, rocking slow and deep, stretching you, in the most intimate way possible, breathing life back into you as his lips found yours again in a slow lazy kiss, as he continued to work you both higher in an almost painfully slow pace. 

This wasn’t going to fix it all together, twenty-one years was a lot of time, and there was a lot of damage, to the both of you, but the way his body moved inside of yours, the promise that he made not only with his words, but with his body, and with his soul that he’d never leave you, never hurt you again, it brought you back in a way that you thought was long dead to you. 

When your release came, and he held you close to him, your name falling from his lips as he spilled himself deep inside of you, you felt like your heart really started to beat for the first time. 

There were still a lot of unanswered questions, and there were some things you just never wanted to know. Right now as he pulled you close to him, wrapping his arms around, and caging your body close to him, promising to never let you go again would be enough. 

Not everyone gets the second chance the two of you were having now, and this time you would follow him to the ends of the earth if that’s what it took, because he was the other half of your heart, and it just didn’t beat if he wasn’t there.

Jessie's POV:

“I can’t believe you sent him here!” Sherry hissed as Jessie dug around for the spare key to your apartment. 

It had been hours since she had sent Jensen here to try and talk to you, and they had heard nothing. Then when Jessie let it slip on her lunch break what had been going on with Jensen and herself over the past couple of weeks, Sherry had blown her top, and insisted on coming to check on them.

“Would you shut up! I’m sure they’re fine!” Jessie hissed back, finding the key and turning the knob slowly. 

The apartment was quiet as the two women pushed the door open, and closed it silently behind them. 

“If he’s done something to hurt her I swear to God!” Sherry hissed again, making her way over to where Jessie was standing by the bar, staring through a crack in Y/N’s bedroom door.

She pointed towards it, and Sherry silently made her way to peek inside, seeing Jensen and Y/N curled into one another sound asleep, clothes strewn all over the floor, and long forgotten. Sherry smiled to herself as he turned around and looked back at Jessie, who was leaning against the bar, grinning like she’d won the war, and that’s all that mattered. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here, I think those two are gonna be just fine.” She said, leading Sherry towards the door, and closing the door to the apparent behind them. Leaving the world outside unknowing, while two hearts did what it took to heal.

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[owillofthewisps]

beckoning light - part one

notes: i saw the witcher once and immediately couldn’t leave this alone. i know nothing about anything save for the netflix show and even then, who knows. but i am nothing if not self-indulgent. this will be two to three parts. it was supposed to be one but i’m incapable of shutting the hell up.

rating: teen on the edge of mature, i suppose.

pairing: geralt of rivia/female reader

word count: 4,309

the wisps have never lead you astray, but you did not expect them to lead you to him.

There is a light in the forest.

It is not a torch beyond the branches, you know. The light doesn’t flicker and undulate the way a consuming fire would, and it’s soft at the edges, like gleam of the moon streaming through the clouds. It is a familiar sight.

Dusk has not yet fully descended; there is a glow to the sky still, a kiss of orange and pink against the encroaching night.

The light in the forest moves, an odd sort of bobbing motion, and you heave a sigh. “No,” you tell the wisp, as though it can hear you from inside your home. The wisps have spent many an eve dancing at the edge of the clearing, just peeking out from behind the trees and beckoning, but you have no qualms with letting them be lonely sometimes.

The wisp - one of the bigger ones, heavy with light, like the rounded belly of the full moon - pulsates. You pause. It pulsates again, more rapidly this time.

“Fuck,” you say, and scramble for the trousers you’d left draped over the bed when you’d changed for the night. You pull them on as quick as you can, not bothering with a real shirt, just haphazardly tucking in the nightshirt you’re wearing. You make fast work of your boots as well, tugging the well-worn leather up over your bare feet, knowing it may well rub your skin raw.

Your cloak, your dagger, they fall into place in a whirlwind of movement, and then you are out in the chill of the settling night. Asha plunges out of the small garden by your home - half-wild, the sighthound is loathe to come inside while there is still light in the sky and you suspect she’s been harrying the partridges nesting in the back of the clearing - her powerful haunches making quick work of catching up to you.

Together, the two of you hurtle into the forest’s edge, dipping around saplings and tangles of old, old roots. The wisp flitters in front of you, darting along the path that only it knows, and you follow as best you can. The forest floor is slippery still, though the last rain was a few days ago, but you have long learned to keep your balance. Here and there, as you draw close to it, the wisp drops out of sight, and your stomach always drops with it as the forest goes dark around you, barely lit by what dying light filters through the canopy. Then the wisp flashes to life ahead of you once more, marking the path.

You are panting by the time you break into the clearing that the wisp is hovering in. You take in the horse, docile now, but with hoof prints all around it that indicate she had been wildly frightened earlier, and see no rider. The wisp flutters beyond the clearing, weaving and wavering.

“Stay,” you tell Asha. You do not need to tell her to guard; she settles near the horse, her muscles rippling with barely contained energy. You slip out of the clearing.

It is not long before you find the rider. His white hair shines almost silver beneath the light of the wisp, marking his place even though he is tucked into a small hollow between the roots of one of the large trees. He has managed to drag his large frame partially upright, but his eyes are closed, and there is a great gash across his chest, blood flowing from it in small pulses. From the pale sheen of him, he has been losing blood steadily.

“Shit,” you mutter. “Shit.” In your flurry, you had neglected to take even the most basic medical supplies. You are an idiot twice over, you suppose, but nothing can be done now.

You settle onto the roots he is propped against, and as you reach for him, you register the brute power of his form. He is built formidably. Formidable, however, has never deterred you, and there is often softness to be found beneath it, no matter how slight. You are intent on gauging his wound - this close, you can see that it is nastily edged, flesh torn ragged instead of cleanly cleaved from a sword’s edge, and you hope that he has left a corpse in another part of the forest, because you could not defend against something able to do this - and just before your fingers rest against his skin, he moves.

He catches your wrist. His large hand encircles your wrist entirely. The grip is strong, just on the edge of bruising. In spite of the situation, you flash upon what it would be like to have that large hand between your legs, prising your thighs apart - because, as Hadrian often tells you, you are shameless - before you glance up to meet his gaze.

Ah, you think. Hello, Witcher.

“Live or die?” you say, your voice mild.

His brow - gleaming with sweat, with patches of blood and dirt rubbed into his skin - furrows. His grip tightens.

“I cannot help you without my hand,” you tell him. You wiggle your fingers at him, the very tip of your middle finger brushing against his leather armor.

He considers you for a moment, those amber eyes keenly picking you apart, and then drops your wrist.

You shrug off your cloak. It’s a poor replacement for supplies, but it is all you have. You fold it until it is a decently thick square, and press it against the gash. The Witcher’s chest heaves, but only a small hiss of breath indicates the pain. You wrap your hand around his. Gently, you press it to his chest, to the rudimentary bandage you’ve created. “Hold it as tightly as you can,” you say, even though he has done so from the moment you placed his hand there.

For a moment, you think you see a gleam of something cross his handsome, stoic face. It might be irritation, and you cannot help the smile that flickers to life across your lips.

“Asha,” you call quietly.

The hound breaks through the brush with a bound. The Witcher tenses at the noise, but you lean to the side just enough that he can see her. Once he knows what has made the sound, his golden gaze returns to you. This evaluation is different. You pay it little mind as Asha noses against you, her blocky head pressing against your side, the warmth of her seeping through your thin shirt.

“Get Hadrian,” you murmur. She perks up, her tail wagging. You click your fingers twice, and she slinks into a predator’s pose once more. “Go.”

Asha takes off like an arrow flying from a bow. You return your attention to the Witcher and place your hand over his, adding your own strength to the pressure against the wound. He grunts. It’s a gravelly sound, reverberating through his chest. His hand is warm underneath yours, but he shifts his hand lower after a moment, out from under your touch. You do not comment, only push your own hand higher to give him more space from your skin.

“Can you stand, Witcher?” you ask. You are not sure what you will do if he cannot; you are not strong enough to get him to the horse alone, let alone on top of it.

He takes a moment. “Maybe,” he grates. His voice reminds you of river rocks tumbling against each other.

You pull back from him. “We’ll try.” True night is coming, settling over the forest like a blanket, and you know that you are running low on time.

If the Witcher has thoughts about your use of we, he doesn’t indicate it. You’re not sure he indicates much. Still, he does not protest when you slide deeper into the hollow with him, shuffling against his side and lifting his arm so that it drapes over your shoulder. He’s chilled against you. The blood loss, you think. You aren’t sure how he’s survived this long.

“Fuck,” he says as you push to your feet, his fingers tightening on your shoulder. He’s heavy. Despite his wound, he carries a good bit of his own weight. You can feel his powerful thigh flexing against you. You brace him with everything you’ve got, winding one arm around his waist, careful to avoid the tail end of his laceration. The movement seems to open the wound again, blood blooming in crimson patches through your cloak. He presses harder against the fabric. You think you hear another curse tumble from his lips.

Between the two of you, you manage to stagger back to the clearing. His horse nuzzles against him as you draw close. The Witcher’s fingers flex on your shoulder. You pat at the mare’s neck with one hand.

Getting him up on the horse is a struggle. By the end of it, your nightshirt is sticking to your skin, wet with sweat. You shiver in the night air. The Witcher looks worse for the wear. You suck at your teeth, trying to decide how best to ride with him. He’s broad enough that you would have difficulty peering around him, but his fingers had been clumsy as you had tried to get him on the horse. He may not be able to keep a good grip on you. Still, it seems the better option. You keep a hand on him as you mount up, wary of the slight sway of him.

“Hold tight,” you warn him. “And do not dare fall asleep on me.”

He grunts an acknowledgement. His arms wrap around you - you think you hear a hiss of pain - and if the strength of him is diminished by the wound, you cannot tell. The band of his arms is steel around you, his fingers biting into the flesh of your hips. It should perhaps hurt, but it does not bother you.

The wisp flits back into view as you gather the reins. The Witcher is leaning heavily against you now, his chest flat against your back, a solid wall against you. You can feel the wet of his blood starting to soak through. His breath stirs against you, warm and slow. You can just see a few strands of white hair flowing over your shoulder.

The wisp bounces forward, and you guide the horse after it. She’s a nimble thing, placid and unbothered by your inexperienced guidance as you try to learn the rhythm of her. The wisp floats near, just beyond you in the distance. Always guiding. The light stirs the Witcher into straightening in the saddle.

“A wisp?” he rasps. One hand comes free from around your waist. He reaches for the reins, but you evade him as best you can. He can’t quite manage to get the reins. That large hand envelopes your wrist instead. A weaker grip than earlier. Something you might even be able to shake off if you tried hard enough. “You cannot mean to follow.”

“I can and I do,” you say.

“If you wanted me dead,” he says dryly, “you should have just left me back there.”

“The wisps have never lead me astray.”

He grunts, reaching for the reins once more. “They never lead to anything good.”

“They lead me to you,” you say.

That gives him pause, you think. His grip on your wrist loosens. You are more and more aware of the spreading damp against your back. You spur on the mare. The wisp picks up its pace as well.

He is leaning heavily against you once more. You try to glance back at him, but with his form draped over you, it’s hard to make out his face. To see if his eyes are open or shut.

“Do not sleep,” you say.

He grunts.

“I mean it.”

He does not make another noise. You jostle him as gently as you can, and are rewarded with another grunt.

“If you’re going to sleep, Witcher,” you say, “you had best give me your name so I know what to put on your tomb.”

He shifts against you. “Geralt of Rivia,” he finally says.

You blink. Oh, you think. Even you know that name.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure,” you murmur, after giving him your own name. “But I do hate to lie.”

He huffs against your back.

You talk at him over the pound of the mare’s hooves. He is quiet the whole time, save for a few gravelly hums, but he shifts behind you when you speak to him, and you use that to your advantage. If he sleeps, you know, even Hadrian might not be able to save him. You talk at him until the horse breaks through to the forest’s edge. The wisp burns out once you can see the gaps in the trees. It has done more than its part, you know, had flared bright enough to hurt at a few points along the path, something you have long thought might be an odd form of protection for something lurking beyond your sight.

Getting Geralt off the horse is as much of a trial as getting him on was. Still, you manage it and stumble through the door with him. You settle him upright, so you can look at his wound in the light shed by the fireplace. He grunts. He’s wan in the firelight, sweat beading on his brow. You loosen his armor as best you can around the cloak before you have to peel it away. He winces when you do, but only a bit of blood wells in the gash.

Geralt’s chest is as broad as the rest of him. In another setting, you think, you would be glad to map it out with questing fingers. Instead, you scoop water from the bucket by the hearth with a wooden cup and kneel before him. You flush the wound out carefully, sending rivulets of watery blood running down his chest.

“Fuck,” he grits out.

You pay him little mind, using cup after cup of water until the wound is clear of dirt and debris. The water runs pink down your arms, dripping from your elbows to dampen your trousers as well.

Your touch is careful but firm. You can feel those eyes on you - golden and molten in the dancing firelight - as you do not shy away from him. You keep your fingers off the raised shine of his scars, focus only on the sundered flesh.

There is little you can do beyond rinsing the wound. Healing is not your strength, and not for the first time, you consider that you should learn more. You have salves that Hadrian has gifted you throughout the years, but you often forget which is what, and you know that some of them have more poisonous aspects that you would not want on an open wound. You gather a clean nightshirt and fold it. Like your cloak, you lose it to Geralt’s wound, as you press it into place over the cleaned gash. The blood is less now, but with the amount he might have lost, you would like there to be none.

This time, you do not bother to tell him to hold it in place. He presses it hard against the wound. His chest rises and falls more heavily now, and you wonder at how much pain he is enduring.

“Here,” you tell Geralt, handing him a wooden cup, this water scooped from the cauldron by the fire. “Drink.”

He drinks deeply. You retrieve the cup when he’s done and fill it once more, this time with ale. It will help with the pain, you hope.

“You chose an unusual way to get a woman out of her clothes,” you tell him. Honestly, it’s a miracle that you hadn’t needed to peel off your nightshirt in the woods. He pauses mid-swallow before gulping the mouthful down. Still, you think he is amused, think it shows in the softening of his tight fist, think there might have been the slightest tilt to his lips. You wonder what it would take to make him laugh.

Asha bays outside. You get to your feet and stride to the door. The hound comes barreling in when you open it, her tongue lolling. She stops at the sight of Geralt, but her hackles stay down, so you turn your attention to Hadrian.

“Your hound,” he says to you, stepping through the door, “is a menace.”

He pauses, then, likely because Geralt’s blood has crept around to the front of your nightshirt on the ride, staining the fabric crimson.

“Shit,” he says, taking you by the forearm, already pulling at your shirt to get to the wounds.

“Stop,” you tell him. You manage to catch your shirt just as he starts to slide it off your shoulders.

“How much blood have you lost?”

“Hadrian. It’s not my blood.”

His hands go still against you. He lets out a breath that sounds perilously close to a whimper. “Good,” he says. “Good.”

“Hadrian.” You nod towards Geralt. The Witcher has his eyes closed, his head back against the side of your bed.

“Hell,” Hadrian says, his quick eyes already measuring the length of the cut and the shallow breaths of his patient. “Alright.”

Geralt’s eyes flicker open as Hadrian takes your place in front of him. The other man recoils, just slightly, at the sight of those amber eyes. From the way Geralt’s mouth pulls, it is a familiar reaction.

You pay little attention as Hadrian sets to work. Asha presses against you. She is dirtier than usual, dust collecting in her deep brown fur. You sigh and nudge her to come outside with you. You glance up at the doorway, and Geralt’s eyes are on you. Hadrian swipes a salve over the cut and the Witcher’s jaw tightens. His head tilts back once more. His neck is a thick column, and you consider what it would be like to set your teeth against it with his hands firm on your hips, holding you down on his lap.

Asha whines and you step through the door. You leave it cracked despite the chill of the night air. The fire warms your small house quickly enough. “Come here,” you tell Asha. You brush your hands through her coat, shaking as much of the dust loose as you can.

It takes longer than you expect. Hadrian is a careful healer, you know, and the wound had been severe, but you find yourself biting your lip as the moon climbs higher in the night sky. You busy yourself by taking care of the horse, who shies away for only an instant before letting you care for her. When you see Asha circling, ready to curl up on the dirt, you return inside.

There’s a little more color in Geralt’s face now. He is still wan and has a sheen of sweat covering him where he is not swathed with bandages, but Hadrian’s brow has smoothed out of the pinch it had gathered into when he’d laid eyes on the Witcher.

Though you are almost silent as you enter, the Witcher’s eyes open, his head rising. His eyes flicker down for a moment, and you realize that in the chill night air, your nipples have tightened into peaks, just visible under the thin nightshirt. He meets your gaze steadily when his eyes return to yours.

Hadrian’s grey eyes dart to your chest too, but that is much more commonplace. You cross the small room to peer down at Geralt. Even seated, it feels like he towers over you, but you have lived too long at the edge of the forest, where the trees dwarf even some of the largest of creatures. “Live it is, then, I suppose?” you ask him.

“So it appears,” he says, the slightest tilt at the corner of his lips. You wonder if the blood loss is why he seems to find you amusing.

“You’ll take him back to town then?” you ask Hadrian.

The healer shakes his head, picking at his long black braid with nervous fingers. “He can’t ride yet.”

Geralt makes a noise that expresses his clear disagreement with that assessment.

Hadrian quails a bit in the face of Geralt’s thunderous brow, but he rarely backs down when it comes to recovery. “The wound will open again. You need to limit movement. In the very least for the night, if not longer.”

“I can ride.”

You heave a sigh. “I did not drag you out of the forest so you could manage to kill yourself in a quest to return to a small town.”

The tendons in Geralt’s jaw flex.

“Do you need to stay?” you ask Hadrian. It could be foolish, you know, to stay alone with this strange man, but the wisps would not steer you wrong. You think. You hope.

His eyes flicker between you and the Witcher. When Asha shifts in her place by the hearth - even curled up, she is a solid, barrel-chested beast and wounded as he is, you do not think Geralt could stand long against her - drawing his eyes, he huffs out a breath.

“No,” he says. “The bandages should hold. But I will come first thing in the morning.”

Geralt, you notice, has leaned his head back again. His eyes are closed, his white hair spilling over the coverlet like a fresh snowfall. Except not quite, since the forest hollows are not the cleanest, and there is grime streaked throughout his locks.

“Up,” you say with a sigh, bending down to levy him to his feet. Hadrian bends with you, thankfully, as you’ll likely need his strength as well. “Let’s at least get off the top layer of grime.”

Geralt comes to his feet with a grunt of pain, and then you have to press against him as he sways. Hadrian braces him from the other side. “‘I can ride,’” you scoff under your breath - from the look you get, Geralt hears you just fine - before handing off most of Geralt’s weight to Hadrian.

You strip off the rest of the Witcher’s armor methodically, undoing the ties nimbly as you find them, sliding the studded leather free. He watches you steadily as you work, his gaze unwavering as you touch him here and there. Much of the grime is contained to the leather, luckily, so you leave his trousers in place.

Geralt takes the dampened rag from you when you offer it. As he wipes some of the sweat and dirt from his neck and face - Hadrian keeps him balanced with a healer’s detachment, only sharpening his gaze when a noise that could be pained issues from Geralt - you finish a few of your nightly chores.

The Witcher settles onto your bed. The frame creaks under his weight, but it’s big enough for him with some room left over.

“If you’re leaving, you should go,” you say to Hadrian. “It’ll soon be too late to even travel the main road safely.”

He glances between you and Geralt, those nimble fingers plucking at his braid once more, but nods. You bid him farewell at the door.

Geralt watches as you take the rag he’d used and dip it back into one of the buckets. You wring it out a few times, until the water is clear again, and then sling it over your shoulder.

“I would ask if you’re always this quiet,” you say to him, “but I think I already know the answer.”

“I would ask if you always talk this freely,” he says, “but I hardly think you need a question to keep talking.”

“The price of my inn is that you must hear me chatter as I would if you were not here.”

He grunts. You bite down on your smile.

You strip off your nightshirt - it’s gone stiff with blood now, crackling unpleasantly as you pull it over your head - without a care, though you’re turned just enough that he cannot see the entirety of you. You run the rag over yourself, wiping away the remnants of the forest and of his blood, the water soothing against your skin. Gooseflesh prickles at your skin as the air brushes across your damp skin, cooling you.

The bed creaks. “Do not bleed on my bed,” you warn, glancing over your shoulder at him. Geralt has turned to better face you, propping himself up on his side. You can see the bandages straining across his muscular chest.

“You cannot expect me to not turn towards such a sight.”

You pull on your shift before padding over to the bed. It is your bed, and you will sleep in it, whether he is there or not. “You have a neck,” you remind him. “I hear they turn. Without the risk of opening a dire wound.”

He grunts. It’s clearly his most fluent language. He turns onto his back when you push lightly at his shoulder. The bed creaks under you as you put a knee up on it. You consider swinging your other leg over him, to straddle his thick thighs, but there’s little point in tormenting yourself. Instead, you peer down at the expanse of bandages.

There’s no blood blossoming, so you assume the wound has not opened once more. Geralt is pallid in the dying firelight, the embers’ soft glow doing little to hide the effect of the blood loss. His eyelids keep fluttering open and closed, long, sooty lashes dark against his skin.

Still, he drags a finger over the crease of your hip as you climb over him to get to the remaining bedspace. Through the thicker material of your shift, his touch is almost ghostly. You sink into place between him and the wall.

“Sleep, Geralt of Rivia,” you say. “And let us see what the morning brings.”

[bardsingingasong]

5+1 Chances to scare you

TITLE: 5+1 chances to scare you | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: Bardsingingasong | MarysseLalonde

RELATIONSHIPS: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

SUMMARY: Jason never scares, or that's what he says. Kyle is determined to prove the opposite.

           There're 5 times tat Kyle tries to scare his boyfriend and 1 when he gets               it, more or less.

WORD COUNT: 3,677

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Batman-All Media Types, Green Lantern- All Media Types

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning.

RATING: G

ADDITIONAL NOTES: 

Happy Halloween!

Yeah, I know Halloween is already past, but never is too late to celebrate it!

I'm very glad to contribute to this fandom and this precious ship. I hope you enjoy these idiots in love.

As usual, I want to thank my beta, TanisVs, for her work. You're the best girl, and I love you so much!!

Friendly reminder: English isn't my first language. I'm trying to improve my English, but I have a lot of work to do. Please if you wish to comment, first of all, thank you, and least be polite, I'm doing my best.

Enjoy!

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"As if you could scare me.”

Kyle frowned, and raised his head from Jason's shoulder to look at him. It was late at night. The patrol was over, and Kyle was back on Earth for the next month. They had decided to watch a movie, specifically a horror movie.

Growing up in Gotham and being trained by Batman had made Jason think that he was immune to fear. He liked to pretend he couldn't feel that emotion in particular, but Kyle knew it best. After all, the White Lantern was linked to the emotional spectrum.

"As if you were never afraid,” Kyle bit back. "Everyone feels fear sooner or later.” 

"Yes, but it didn't mean you can scare me."

Kyle moved away from Jason, leaning on the sofa to look at him. Jason had that smile of his, which means he was fooling around with Kyle.

"I will," His voice tone was firm. "I know you, I could scare you in one way or another."

Jason stared at him, his smile growing bigger while his fingers held Kyle's chin.

"Sounds like a dare." He sounded playful and sensual. He was using the tone that he knew it drove Kyle mad. He was trying to distract him. Jason probably was bored with the movie, and he was in the mood to play.

And Kyle hated taking the bait so quickly.

"Maybe it is." Kyle was digging his own grave, but he never refused a challenge no matter how absurd it was.

"I would like to see you try."

In a second, Kyle was astride Jason's lap, devouring his mouth.

"It's a dare?" Jason asked between kisses.

"Will you take it?" Jason pulled him and pressed him against his body. His hips were raised, telling Kyle what he was thinking all the time during the movie. That was a little disturbing, but Kyle could understand that it was a time since he was on Earth.

"Maybe later, when I'm not busy".  

There were no more words after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but sooner rather than later, their screams of pleasure ended up covering the scare screams from the film.

Later, when they were resting at Jason's bed, Kyle began to think of his plan attack.

1

“You know, I think we have a ghost in the apartment.”

Jason gave him an incredulous look. He was throw away over the sofa, watching a movie with a large popcorn bowl. Kyle should have joined him, but he had claimed how much he wanted to paint.

"And you think that because... ?"

Kyle stared at him. He usually didn't care how Jason looked like an idiot from time to time, but sometimes he wished his boyfriend would take him seriously. If Jason wanted a reason, he would have one.

"Because I was working on my canvas when some of your books fell from the bookshelf."

“Are you sure it wasn't you who has made them fall?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm sure, because your stupid Jane Austen's books are floating everywhere, and I can't do that without my ring."

Red Hood grumbled. He left the bowl on the sofa and paused the movie before he got up. He didn’t seem not much convinced but went to the bedroom anyway. Kyle followed him. The two of them stopped in their tracks at the doorway. The room was uncoordinated, with all Kyle's paints over the bed and the floor. An easel was in front of the windows and on it the unfinished canvas. The scene could be normal, but there were some open books, floating mid-air. The books moved like someone was making them levitate. Maybe for the inexperienced eye they could look more real, but Jason wasn't a beginner. A single look was enough to know what happened there.

"If you make a single scratch on my books, it'll not matter how much I love you, you'll sleep in the streets for the rest of your Earth's days off." Jason said. He turned around and started to walk to the living room. "Put them back on the bookshelf, Rayner.”

The Lantern looked at him and back to the room.

"Aw c'mon, man! Are you serious?!" He ran after him. Jason was again on the sofa with the movie playing and the popcorn bowl on his lap. "You didn't doubt for a second."

"Who do you think I am, Ky?" He threw up a popcorn and ate it in flight. "I work with the big bat, your childish tricks could never fool me."

Kyle sighed loudly. He dropped on the couch, next to Jason, resting his head on the backrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason's mocking smile. Acting like a child, the White Lantern set the bowl aside and lay down on Jason's lap, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Immediately, Jason caressed his hair.

Almost all the time, those gestures made Kyle doubt how people could think Jason was anything but a loving person. He knew how brutal and lethal Jason could be, but it was always for a reason... most of the time. The ex-Robin was very protective of the people he loved, and his love was not easy to earn but if you got it, it would last forever.

In Kyle's opinion, the man had suffered enough to let him be imperfect. Maybe Red Hood didn't comply with Batman's code, but he was efficient, and the same hands that could skew a life they also could be affectionate.  

"Just for curiosity.” Kyle said. "What gave me away?"

"Many things. Your canvas was dry, and I could see the fishing line a mile away". Jason's voice was flat, even bored, but Kyle knew him for years and he could hear a tiny, tiny, note of fun on his tone. "You'll need to be more convincing if you want to scare me, Lantern."

Kyle snorted, giving Jason a bite in his thigh. Scare Jason Todd would be more difficult than he had thought in the first place.

2

"OH MY GOD! JASON!"

Kyle's scream surprised him in the shower. Normally he would have ignored the Lantern while showering, but this time something sounded wrong in Kyle's voice. Jason turned off the tap and wrapped himself with a towel. If it was a joke, he would ensure that his boyfriend would have a punishment.  

Jason walked towards the kitchen, leaving a trail of water behind him. He would clean it up later, when he was sure Kyle hadn't been hurt by any nonsense. If anyone could do something so stupid and end up hurting himself, it was Kyle (and Dick too, but that was another matter). Sometimes Jason would try to explain to himself how Kyle could survive in space and be part of a group like the Lantern Corps as clumsy as he was.

"It may already be import… ant."

Jason fell silent as he entered the kitchen. Kyle was standing by the counter, with a rolled-up cloth tightly covering his hand. The cloth was completely stained red, and was dripping profusely. The cutting board and the knife with which he must have been working until then were equally stained with red. At first glance, it would appear that Kyle had cut himself. Very much so. To be honest, Jason would say that was the best performance the White Lantern could do. He was even crying! He could have fooled anyone, but not Jason. Definitely not Jason, who could distinguish fake blood from the real one with his eyes closed.

Red Hood saved the prank in his mind, he would ensure that Kyle will do it again with the Outlaws. Roy's face would be epic. But for now, he stayed near the door, looking at Kyle with his arms crossed.

"That's the best you can do?" Jason's tone had no emotion, but he arched one eyebrow, revealing his amusement. Jason had left his warm shower to suffer another pitiful try from his boyfriend to scare him. He'll make Kyle paid for it later. For the moment, Jason would be satisfied with dismantling his joke. "I don't know what have you used as fake blood, but it is more liquid than real blood. Nice whack, Lantern."

"In your defense I would say that it could have been quite convincing for someone with no experience. Play the joke on Jordan or Gardner, they'll fall for it."

"What about John?"

"Steward is the smart one in your little gang. He probably won't believe it."

"Does that mean I'm an idiot too?"

Jason didn't answer. He smiled and said:

"You're going to clean up this mess and make dinner while I finish showering, got it?"

Kyle pouted but smiled after. Scare Jason was his challenge, and it would be more fun than the second Robin had thought.

3

"Okay, this time it has to be the final one." Kyle took the final look at his latest work: a tall ghostly figure hanging in the middle of his studio. The smell of fresh paint still hung in the air, as the last layer had not yet dried.

The first two attempts had been a total fiasco, but this time Kyle thought he could make it. He had been working tirelessly for days to finish the puppet of the ghost, covered with layers and layers of fluorescent paint that gave it a rather spooky realism.

That night, none of them would be home. Jason had patrol with the rest of the bats, and Kyle would spend the day working as a team with other Earth Lanterns. That meant the Lanterns had an excuse to drink together, and for Kyle it meant he had an alibi when his prank exploded in Jason's face.

"Okay, Kyle, you can do this."

Kyle had left home early, having left a light construction as an alarm to know when Jason was leaving. So he had come back and set the trap, placing it where Jason didn't expect to find it.

When he returned with the rest of the torches, they bombarded him with questions. Hal and Guy laughed outrageously, while John and Simon looked at him with some disapproval. On the other hand, Jessica smiled at him and gave him new ideas in case the prank didn't work.

Time passed quickly between laughs and drinks, and by the time Kyle returned home, he had forgotten his own trap.

"I'm home," he said, opening the front door.

Jason's muffled voice received him. He wasn't in sight, so Kyle thought he was probably in the bathroom. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kyle went to the bedroom to change his clothes, thinking of making a light dinner for him and his boyfriend later. Suddenly, a tall, shiny figure pounced on him. Kyle, lost in thought, had no time to turn away completely and let out a cry of surprise. The figure collapsed after hitting him, and broke into pieces on the floor.

Kyle stood extremely still, totally taken by surprise, and watched what was left of his joke that he had been working on for a whole week. His drunkenness disappeared suddenly, with the loud sound of his heart beating in his ears. Obviously, Jason hadn't fallen into her trap, but he had.

How ironic, a victim of his own plans.

 "What's broken?" Jason asked, poking his head out the door.

"My dignity..."

Jason was curious, but didn't push for Kyle to tell him what had happened. Kyle looked, and was, very embarrassed, with a strong blush on his cheeks. He just cleaned up the broken pieces of the ghost without saying a word.

Later, when Kyle checked the security cameras, Jason's laughter echoed throughout. And the next day, when he woke up, the icon of an unread message was blinking on his phone. When he opened it, he found a laconic:

<Jason: 3, Kyle: 0>

Sometimes he really hated his boyfriend.  

4

Kyle started to get discouraged. He already had three failures in his mission to scare Jason. Perhaps it was impossible, after all, Jason had been through too many traumatic experiences since he was a child to be afraid of mundane things like ghosts, blood and floating books. Kyle thought about googling. He knew that Gotham had a website where people explained and taught how to make those kinds of scary jokes and traps, not just for Halloween but in case someone wanted to make them at any time of the year. Kyle thought it was a bit disturbing. Some of the jokes were funny, but others also made him think that most people in Gotham needed to go to therapy.

"How do you make a fake cut head? And then they say this city has the highest crime rate in the country. I wonder why."

Kyle decided to try one and ended up watching all the available tutorials. They were really creepy and unpleasant, although Jason probably wasn't afraid of them either.

"But I don't lose anything by trying..."

What Kyle hadn't counted on was having to watch people hide their fake heads in the fridge. That made him feel a lot worse than knowing that he probably couldn't scare his boyfriend, because... Well, the thought of Alex had never stopped hurting him. He had learned to deal with it over time, it was true, but... No, if he was going to play that prank on Jason, he couldn't, shouldn't, even think about going near the fridge with something that simulated a human body part.

The choice of model was quite easy. He couldn't risk anyone going off the rails, so he couldn't choose anyone from Jason's immediate environment. No Waynes, no Alfred, no Outlaws, no Titans in general. So he had to use someone just as willing as he was to play those kinds of jokes. Guy Gardner was always the best choice if you were looking for a partner in crime. Kyle only needed to tell him his plan so Guy would sign up without hesitation.

Now, a large jar was on the kitchen table, and inside was a picture of Guy's head.

"I'm home!" Jason announced from the front door.

Kyle looked up from the picture he was working on and took a look at the jar. He smelled the Chinese food, Jason had brought dinner. "Kyle?"

"Here." Kyle forced himself to stay focused on his work.

Jason walked over to the couch, left a kiss on Kyle's head and went into the kitchen. Kyle needed all his willpower not to look at his reaction. But to his disappointment, Jason pretended that nothing was out of place.

"Okay, I admit I almost believed it this time," he said, calmly. Kyle put the notebook aside and looked at his boyfriend. Jason was taking out the Chinese food boxes, placing them on the counter near Guy's fake head. "Gardner is a pain in the ass, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you decided to give him his due.”

"Don't say that." Kyle leaned against the sofa, watching Jason put the food on the plates. "You should get along better with him, he's my best friend and you're my boyfriend. You get along so badly because you look so much alike."

"Even more so.” When Jason left the dishes on the table, he approached Kyle and leaned in to kiss him properly. "Anyway, it's pretty well done. Can I put it on the shelf?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Another failed plan.

"Whatever you want. Just don't put it in the bedroom, I don't want to see my friend's head while we're having sex."

5

Everything had failed. Kyle had no ideas anymore, no real strength, to try and scare Jason. His boyfriend was like an iceberg, nothing seemed to scare him, and the most he could do was make him laugh at his pathetic jokes.

"Just jump after him and say 'BOH!'" Dick had said last night, when they were having dinner with Jason's brothers.

Dick's suggestion was absurd. If Jason wasn't scared of anything, he definitely wouldn't do it because of a jump scare. But in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

Kyle came closer to the couch, where Jason was having a nap, using his ring to float and make less noise possible. But he was distracted by the thought that he might give Jason a heart attack, until he suddenly realized that his boyfriend had opened his eyes and was staring at him. Kyle flinched.

"Tell me you're not doing what Dick told you to do." Jason said. His voice sounded sleepy and resigned.

"No?" Kyle replied. Jason raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and Kyle felt his cheeks burning. "Okay, okay! I'm out of ideas."

"Do you want one? Admit your defeat, and come here with me."

That was the last attempt and the last defeat, so Kyle decided to be content, rather than reward himself, by curling up in Jason's arms and abandoning himself to pampering.

6

It had to be a nightmare.

Jason searched Kyle's body, frantic and agitated, desperate to find signs of life. He held the lantern in his arms, his head tilted unnaturally, and his eyes closed.

"Please wake up, Kyle, please, please." Jason whispered.

"Jay..." He heard Roy, who put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly in a gesture intended to be comforting.

The other Lanterns of the Earth landed in front of him. Jason didn't need to look at them to know how they felt. He could hear Jessica's grasp, and he was pretty sure that sound was Gardner hitting something.

That couldn't be happening.

"Jason."

Jason ignored that voice, more focused on stroking Kyle's cheek. His skin was cold, and it shouldn't be. Kyle hated the cold, he always wrapped himself in a lot of blankets when he was in Jason's flat.

"Jason." The same voice called him again.

This time, a firm hand grabbed his arm. Red Hood looked up and met Hal Jordan, the man who had once argued with Batman about how Jason was fucking his beautiful little brother.

"Let it be." Jordan said.

Jason frowned.

"I'm not going to leave him! He's hurt, he needs help!" Red Hood replied, angry.

Jason saw compassion in Jordan's eyes, and he hated him. Why did he feel sorry for him instead of helping Kyle? No one around him was moving a finger, what was wrong with them?

"Jason, he's gone." Roy said.

"He's right here."

"Kyle's dead, Jason." Batman's voice echoed in his head.

"Poor little broken Robin. Did you lose something?" He knew that voice. It was the Joker, chasing him wherever he went. "Maybe if he hadn't been near you, he'd still be alive."

His singing voice made Jason feel sick. Batman was right, Kyle was dead. And the clown was also right, if he had been more attentive, maybe, maybe Kyle wouldn't have had to intervene and...

Kyle was dead because of him.

"Jason."

Someone was calling him, but Jason ignored him. I had to help Kyle, I had to do something. He felt a pang of horrible guilt crushing him to the ground.

"Jason."

The voice was loud. He knew it. It was sweet and quiet, like Kyle's voice when he convinced him to stay home on a rainy day, and drink hot chocolate until they couldn't take it anymore. He felt a wave of affection. That had been a good time.

"Jason, please wake up."

Jason opened his eyes. He could feel his heart beating strongly against his ears.

"Come on, honey, breathe. It was a nightmare."

Jason closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to do it as slowly as possible. When he became aware of his surroundings, he felt someone beside him. A hand was tracing soft circles on his chest, making him feel much more comfortable and calm. A calm voice spoke intelligible words of comfort.

When Jason finally opened his eyes and got used to the twilight, he saw Kyle next to him. He looked very worried, but was smiling softly, surely relieved that Jason had finally calmed down.

"Hey." Jason mumbled.

"Hey." Kyle replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better." It was going to take Jason a while to recover, but he would work on it.

"It was just a nightmare." Kyle repeated, still anguished.

Yes, it had been a nightmare, but it wasn't just that, Jason wanted to say.

All of Jason's nightmares were hard.

Sometimes the dream was about his own death, other times it was about the death of his loved ones. None of them were better than the other, all of them made Jason feel like a wreck for a while.

"You were dead in my arms," he whispered.

Kyle bit his lip. He felt many emotions bubbling up inside Jason, but (sadly) fear was the predominant one. Kyle curled up on his side, resting his head on Jason's chest. Jason moved to put his arm around Kyle, keeping him close to him.

"I know he was trying to scare you, but that's not how he wanted to do it. Kyle felt Jason's laughter under his cheek as he pressed him a little closer to his body.

"I'll give you that." He said. "But I prefer all the other times, they were much more fun than... this."

They were silent for a while. Kyle began to feel sleepy, although he knew Jason wouldn't fall asleep, at least for the rest of the night. Then... he heard him.

"I love you."

Kyle smiled, barely surprised, but delighted. He felt it, he felt his love overcoming his fear at full speed.

"I know."

Jason mumbled, with a snort.

"Don't quote Star Wars, nerd."

They burst out laughing almost at once. In the end, Jason had gotten scared, though in the way Kyle would have wanted. It didn't matter though, they were together, they loved each other.

And that was the most important thing.