#so it’s unedited but no can hold me accountable for that

[milkystyx]

Y’all don’t even realize I posted a solangelo fic on ao3 that’s 17,000 words and it’s not my best writing but nobody said it had to be

[seiwas]

cw: suggestive, just iwaizumi being hot in a muscle tee, use of 'baby', sweat, unedited sawry (this is my pure carnal desire for this man)

iwaizumi hasn’t worn a muscle tee in years—

it hangs off him like a singular piece of cloth, haphazardly cut to show off as much skin as possible. slutty, the way mattsun and makki had intended for it to look when they gifted it to him in his third year of college.

which, to be fair, maybe he was one—a slut, that is. whoring himself out completely with those ‘subtle’, ‘lowkey’ thirst trap instagram stories on his fitness account. the way his skin flushed a darker peach after your joint gym days was always borderline inappropriate, the strands of his hair sticking up in what you could easily mistake as sweat-matted sex hair.

iwaizumi’s muscle tee days are well associated with him being the image of absolute sin.

but it was all for you anyway: the instagram stories he set on ‘close friends’ only, the hours he kept free so he could align his gym schedule to yours—

“oh! that’s perfect!” you beam at him, your smile completely unaware.

“yeah. it all worked out…” he casually brushes it off.

—it was oikawa's idea in the first place.

"you have to sell yourself better iwa-chan," the brunet whines over the phone.

and so he did; followed every embarrassing idea oikawa came up with, posed and posted in ways extremely un-iwaizumi, and stocked up on muscle tees. a lot of them. only for him to be called—

"simp," oikawa snorts on the call. iwaizumi groans, rolling his eyes.

—"baby," you stop dead in your tracks, your breath on hold.

yeah, he thinks, it was all worth it because this is what you call him now.

"is that—?" you inch closer, mouth falling slightly open. he thinks there are stars in your eyes as you ask, "are you wearing—?"

oh.

iwaizumi looks down at the muscle tee hanging off his body and feels a little bit exposed. he just came from the gym and he hasn't worn a muscle tee in years, his collection of them having dwindled over time. the only reason he kept this one is because of its sentimental value, and the fact that it came from makki and mattsun.

compression shirts are his thing now, which you approve of very much, but you're both in the middle of moving, and some of his clothes are still in boxes.

you approach him slowly, "is this a comeback?" the smirk on your face grows when you reach him, your hands fiddling with the fabric.

this is the same muscle tee he was wearing the first time you told him you loved him.

he moves away before you can come any closer.

"sweaty," he scrunches his nose as he takes your hands into his, kissing your fingertips.

you scoff, pressing yourself right into his chest, "even better."

your hands cling to his sides, slipping underneath the damp cotton of his muscle tee as you rake your fingers down planes of taut muscle. he shivers, breath hitching as the heat travels up his body, flushing the sides of his neck deep peach.

you peer up at him and grin, placing small pecks at the areas of his collarbone that peek through.

fucking—

his hands grip your waist, keeping you in place as he tilts his head low, lips grazing just the tip of your ear.

"don't tease," he warns, voice low and hoarse, but his hands show no signs of moving away.

notes: i would like to thank @pastelle-rabbit for asking me the hardest question of all time, otherwise this little blurb wouldn't exist

[delugguk]

is this okay?

pair: jungkook x reader

rated: mature

word count: 1.7k

warnings: sexual content.

Part two.

autor’a note: helllooooooo I know it’s been a while and since I haven’t finished my many fics that I have (I know, k word me pls but don’t, actually skdj) this live (or more like the way he looks) made me go kinda feral for him so I had to do this !! this is compleeeetely unedited because I wrote it super fast and I’m just posting it as it is !! with nothing more to say, I miss and love every single one of you that keep coming back to my stories or just finding out about it, believe me when I say I appreciate every single one of you, even if you’re new!! you’re here for a reason 🫶🏼 thank you for liking my stuff and I’ll be more open to you guys later since I one to make a while make over on this account lmaO, anyways, enjoy and let’s get feral together while kook’s cook his album🤍🧚🏼✨

~*^~*~^~*~^*~~^*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*~^~*^~*~^~*~^~*

you blame it on him.

he didn’t had to seat like that, stare at you like that and even bite his lower lips like that. it was something so subtle and you swore his eyes glistened so much, you could almost mistaken them for desire.

but what if..?

no.

you needed to control yourself. you promised you wouldn’t be jumping his bones the moment he called you to make him some company. you know you two are close friends.

but damn.

can’t deny the massive sexual attraction that’s so intense with only doing something so innocent as much as sinful like eye contact.

it’s crazy.

or at least that’s what you think.

jungkook can be complicated at times. but, fuck. you suddenly remember his fainted voice when talking to that girl. “sure, but can you handle me?”. you didn’t know what he or they were referring to, you were just trying to pass by in those big echoing college halls.

of course, you thought about— the worst.

he was fine as hell, okay? to say he isn’t fucking around just makes NO sense.

but the day you met him or—no. the day you two met at that reunion.. fuck. just thinking about it already makes your pussy pop. how embarrassing.

he looked so fine.. he teased you just right.. ugh! stupid hormones! why does it have to be so rich to have sex.. you wanted to fuck him here and there. a little dance could do so much..

“..y/n?”

suddenly you’re back to earth. (with a flaming pussy as we speak).

“yeah?” disconnected, you blink once again. jungkook just smirks.

“I told you, not to worry about it. just come seat,” he pats his side of the sofa, two times. “next to me.”

stupid beanie, stupid white shirt and stupid tattoos.

why does he has to look so cute and fine at the same time? not only that but the way he smelled? a fucking perfect man. who the hell smells that good? it isn’t even a strong essence but rather a soft/sexy one..

“no.” oh.. you can’t help yourself anymore. “I want to seat here.” you said as each of your legs takes place beside his waist.

yep, you boldly seated on top of him. just like that.

it’s not that you do this often but jungkook didn’t seemed to reject your body language as soon as he holded your hips with both of his hands. somehow delicate but oh, so decisively.

that caused a whole electricity run over your entire body to the point you almost felt goosebumps if it wasn’t that already.

just.. how much did you really wanted him? seemed out of limits..

both of your palms rest on his shoulders and there’s no words but an intense eye contact full of temptation, desire.. all of the words you can imagine referencing to the same feeling you both were having right now.

what’s stopping you two? why don’t you move? why doesn’t he move? those were your thoughts until-

“it’s dangerous.” he mutters. you’re just biting your lips.

gosh, you wanted him right here, right now.

“eung” you say, but it sounded a little too sexy(horny) for jungkook’s ears and damn, did he liked that.

“eung?” but as he mimics the way you sounded (just a little more dominant) was enough for you to start moving your hips to his already increasing bulge. mm. it felt good.

you grab his neck as you move very slowly but surely as he looks at you with those dark shiny eyes slightly pulling his face towards the area where your boobs could make contact with him.

he acts fast into giving light, delicate but needy kisses through your also white crop top. the one that can mark how hard your nipples are just right.

you moan a little, more like a very hot exhale that makes jungkook go crazy internally. the way for him to expresses is to squeeze the side of your hips, right enough for you to take your shirt off.

“no bra..” he smirks. “just how I like.”

“mhmm” you slightly moan once again to acknowledge his words.

his hands immediately take a ride feeling you up from your curves, belly, ribs and finally, your boobs. his hands feeling so warm, so right as soon as he touched you. feeling like it could burn, it felt divine. it was to the point where you weren’t the only one that’s breathing so heavy but him.

kissing your nipples felt like heaven, his lip piercing somehow sort of cold made magic so you couldn’t help but take his shirt off, beanie staying on. you wanted him like that.

“I want to kiss you so bad.” breathless, you said.

“do it.” bold enough, he responds. “fuck me if you want. I’ll let you do anything tonight.”

“fuck.” you whisper. “jungkook..” hips intensifying its deep roll, still slow.

“take off your shorts. want you naked for me.”

you wanted to scream. (in many different meanings to it).

he follows you when you obey him so well, but instead of him going naked, he leaves his boxers on.

but you don’t mind, as soon as you caress the imprint of his hard dick drawing on his black Calvin Klein’s boxers. jungkook man spreads giving you the fucking gaze, while patting his well formed thighs and you’re crazy wet at this point. — as soon as you reveal his dick making a pop towards his lower stomach, you could feel yourself almost salivating for him.. and it’s something you’ll normally will feel embarrassing of, but with the way your pussy was crying for him.. yeah, a girl had to do what it gotta do.

“didn’t know how badly you wanted me..” he exhales. “guess I wasn’t the only one, fuck. come here.

pulling you and opening your legs towards him revealed how sticky you were in front of his eyes that jungkook couldn’t help but pass his dick through your entrance without dipping in yet.

“fuck..” he moans. “is this what you wanted? mm. how long were you waiting for this?” giving a little slap with his dick to your pussy. “and why didn’t you tell me earlier?” with hooded eyes, already looking like a mess.

god, was he gone and he hasn’t entered you yet.

you were almost to the point of crying with him barely starting. that’s how horny the both of you were.

“been wanting you for a while..” you’re breathing to exhale. it feels so good. “wanting to feel you just like this..”

“..raw?”

“mh-yeah.. fuck.”

he just stares at your expression for a moment, eyes closed, lips being caught up by your teeth.. pussy sliding so easily around his already wet hard dick.. it seemed so sexy the way you were moving. he wanted to eat you out when looking at you, but his need to finally be inside you was stronger.

“so do I..” he deeply answers as soon as he’s making your hips swallow his entire dick.

“agh, fffuck. it’s more of what I imagined.” he speaks more to himself.

you, on the other hand, was trying no to cum right there. breathing long and slowly to calm your pussy and feelings because somehow.. your heart started to felt as if it wanted to jump out of your body and you swear you could hear jungkook’s heart trying to do the same too.

“move.” he says, giving some gentle, little pats to your ass.

“give me a second-“ and after five seconds, you breathe and start rolling your hips back and forth. all you could hear was your juices having fun.

but the moment you lean into him and hug him with your face into the side of his neck, is we’re things start to get fun and nasty when you actually start to bounce on him.

“fuck yes.” jungkook’s voice rasp into a very hot moan. “‘knew you were good.” he pauses. “fucking lucky I am.” after grabbing your ass and start manhandling you like his personal fuck toy.

“ah-“ a moan escaping your lips, you clench your teeth sucking air to it. “s-so g-good” and it’s just that you speak along marking the secuence of how he bounces you on him.

“mm I’m feeling you close, are you?”

“y-yeah”

—in a moment where you both got to cum, having jungkook fuck you still with his cum innit because he founded so sexy the way your pussy looked so swollen and messy (and how well you take him and squeezed him) having you cum once again, things weren’t so awkward afterwards. it all ended up rather having jungkook asking you things.

“I noticed you got more wet when I started to control your bounces..”

“I.. um, I like when someone sort of.. uses me like that like..” you lower your voice, “I’m all yours?”

jungkook smiles. “oh.. y/n you aren’t getting shy right now, aren’t you?”

“no!” you feel embarrassed.

“I think you are..” he teases.

“shut up.” you roll your eyes.

“don’t worry though. as I’ve said it before things.. turned out to be this way,” you both giggle. “don’t worry. and.. y/n?”

“eung?”

“believe me when I say that this isn’t going to be the last time of us doing this. I will always want this to happen again, and it will.” he pauses. “unless you don’t want me to.”

“okay.” it’s all you say but in reality you can’t explain to him how much do you agree with this because sure, if it was hard standing by his side without doing anything ever since that night or the day you met him.. with today’s events it’ll be even harder to not want to have a taste of him once again.

and again..

and again.

and that’s when it hits you. you never kissed him, he never kissed you and you’re completely screwed.

[coco-loco-nut]

tumblr

pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

summary: idek, an unedited fluffy short blurb

requests open masterlist

———————

Usually your period isn’t this bad, but your body decided to rebel against you.

“How are you feeling?” Oscar asks, handing you a mug of tea as you are curled up on the couch watching your ultimate comfort movies.

“Like shit,” you groan, ignoring the cramp you just felt.

“I can make you a warm bath, maybe light some candles,” Oscar offers, sitting beside you.

“It’s okay, there is nothing Barbie doesn’t cure. You don’t have to sit here all day with me, go ahead and do your training,” you tell Oscar, watching to watch the old Barbie movies in peace, without Oscar worrying about you. He takes your hint without being hurt about it, he’s a big boy.

Honestly, you don’t know how you ended up with Oscar, he doesn’t really look like any of the princes, and those guys are definitely your type.

When Oscar reappears a few hours later, freshly showered, he notices you scrolling on your phone, humming to the music from the movie.

“Babe, I’m going to order pizza, what do you want?” Oscar asks, opening the app on his phone.

“Hold on, I’m about to get with you,” you say, fully invested in your phone.

“What?”

“This has been the slowest burn ever, but we are finally about to get together, in like chapter 20. I hate slow burns,” you huff.

“Babe, we are already together. You married me?” Oscar says confused. You finish the last paragraph and look at him.

“It’s fan fiction, Osc. You know, on Tumblr,” you show him your phone and his eyebrows are furrowed.

“Why?” is all he can say, unsure of how to react.

“I got bored of writing,” you say, closing the app and refocusing on the movie.

“You write the fan fiction? For me?”

“Ew no. That would be weird. I write for the more popular drivers. You know, Charles, Lando, Carlos, Max, Daniel, Lewis,” you list and Oscar just stares at you. You are literally besties with Lando and Charles, but you don’t write for your own husband? He’s honestly offended.

“What do you mean ew? I think how you scream my name most nights contradicts that,” Oscar smirks, your face flaming.

“That’s why it would be weird. I’ve written it but it will never be published,” you admit, a little embarrassed.

“Anyway, pizza. Yes or no?” you quickly reply yes, hoping to move on from the conversation. That night, once you fall asleep, he scrolls through your account, reading the fan fictions you wrote and reblogged. It’s weird, but he enjoys your writing.

The subject isn’t brought up again until one drunken grid and WAG dinner, where Oscar drunkenly blurts it out.

“Y/n’s written fan fiction about us,” he says and all the guys look at you.

“The girls love it. Some of your antics make for great stories,” you defend yourself.

“So true, I love reading them,” Kika says, the other WAGs voice their agreement about it.

“What?” Charles is confused, but Lando, being the child he is, gets excited.

“Which one of us gets the most written about?” he asks and none of you waste a second replying.

“Charles,” the answer is in unison, causing the Monegasque to blush. None of you will admit that Lando is a close second.

Over the next week, you get random texts from them, asking which ones you wrote, but also their thoughts on different ones. Charles is appalled and flattered by the amount of smut written for him. Lando and Daniel are the opposite, they love the smut and how they’re talked up. They also told you that they got ideas from some of them, causing you to want to bleach your eyes out.

Eventually, they found out which account was yours, sent it to each other, and started spamming your inbox with requests. Lando’s tend to be about him winning a WDC, poor guy can barely win as is.

After a week of them spamming your inbox with requests, you decide to post an announcement on your account.

Dear readers,

Unfortunately my account has been outed. I know you all love my works and when I post some behind the scenes information about GPs. Sadly, my friends who work in an important role in F1 found my account and it no longer feels right to write this anymore out of respect for them.

Thank you all ❤️

↪️ user1 she knows a driver doesn’t she

↪️ user2 or an engineer

↪️ cl16racer don’t stop 😢

↪️ y/username sorry buddy, it’s time

↪️ oscarpastryy yeah, it’s a little weird now

↪️ landomorewins it doesn’t have to be!

“Wow, the guys are really torn up about it,” you laugh, Oscar’s arms around you as you cuddle on the couch. You had been thinking about stopping writing them anyway, so it was just a good excuse.

“I just wish you’d publish what you wrote about me,” Oscar kisses the side of your head.

“That’s far too dirty and intimate. It’s what I read when you are away,” you say with a blush. “You can read it if you want,” you hand him your phone. He holds the phone where you can both read it, his other hand running up and down your side absentmindedly at first but more intentionally the longer you read, until you aren’t reading anymore. That might’ve been some of your best sex.

“From now on, when you write like that when I’m away, you send it to me. Promise, Mrs Piastri?” Oscar says, kissing you.

“I promise,”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Sunshine's Shadow - Chapter 2

WordCount: 10k

Ao3

A/N: I didn't realise how much of a slow burn this was. Also, this is unedited for typos and grammatical errors OOPSIES my adhd chaos just NEED TO POST THIS

Having your best friend back was a type of happiness you never knew you could ever experience. Especially after grieving him. There were no words to describe the way you just wanted to cling on to him, scared he would be taken away from you again.

The week went on with the both of you spending almost all of your waking time together. You had burgers during your stakeouts, listened to comedy podcasts, and you even taught Jason how to use your camera. You hadn’t noticed how much you were devoid of laughter until you started spending time with Jason and laughing until your stomach hurt.

There was definitely a pull, and you noticed the looks Jason had given you. You wondered if this was okay. You knew he had a crush on you from before, but you didn’t expect for him to still like you right now. You didn’t want to lead him on. You couldn’t lead him on.

You were with Dick, after all.

You sighed loudly.

“You okay there?” Jason asked from the passenger seat, mouth full of french fries. You couldn’t find much illegal activity from Thorne’s phone, as you suspected, but you did get to know of his accountant. It made sense for Thorne to have a personal accountant to deal with the money flow. Now the both of you were staked out of Mrs. Eriksson’s house.

“Oh- sorry,” you hadn’t noticed that you let your shadow grow. You closed your eyes and reeled the darkness in.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” Jason protested, “We’re staking out in the car at 12 AM. Some darkness would be a great cover.”

He was right. You let yourself go.

“What’s on your mind?” he prodded.

You bit your lip in contemplation. Should you bring it up? Or should you just leave it be? Jason was a smart, grown, adult man. He didn’t need to be told the obvious, right?

What was the obvious anyway? That you didn’t have feelings for him before he died? That wasn’t true. That you got together with Dick in order to replace the emptiness he left? How did you feel about him now, that he was back?

“Dick said you used to have a crush on me,” you said.

“That damned snitch,” Jason cursed.

“To be fair to him, you were dead when he told me,” you assured, “Plus, it’s not like I didn’t know. You know I can read people.”

Jason shifted in his seat. He was wearing a long sleeved gray Henley that did nothing to hide his muscles. Unlike Dick, Jason rarely styled his hair. He let the fringes of his straight dark hair down in front of his eyebrows and would occasionally push his hair back with his fingers.

“Yeah, I know,” he was running his hand at the back of his head, messing up his hair further, “Yeah, I had a crush on you. So what?”

You turned towards him and leaned closer, trying to catch his expression in the dark. You tried his method of intensity, piercing his eyes with yours. “How about now?”

You saw the minute details of his microexpressions. He blinked once, his eyebrows drawn together, his eyes darted to the left and you noticed he clenched his jaw. Finally, he smirked and looked at you again.

“You’re the one who can read people. You tell me.”

You could have said that you noticed the way he tries his best to not reach out and hold your hand, the way his eyes dart from your eyes to your lips from time to time, how he couldn’t stop looking at you, how he licked his bottom lip when you leaned in close. You could have said that all that points to at least some level of attraction, and maybe even more. You could have said that maybe you caught yourself doing those things too.

Instead, you said, “Anna Eriksson’s light switched on.”

You both turned towards the house and waited. Anna Eriksson was a wife and a mother of two. She exited her town house and unlocked her car, her long straight platinum blond hair held high in a ponytail.

“Finally, some action,” Jason said excitedly.

You tailed her dark sedan expertly until it slowly came to a stop beneath a complexity of overpasses in southwest of Old Gotham heading to Tricorner Yards. You drove a few blocks away further down the road and turned into an alley and parked the car. You could still see Eriksson from the zoom lens of your camera.

“I wanna see too,” Jason whined.

“You should have brought binoculars,” you rolled your eyes. “Really, aren’t you all a family of vigilantes? To think you’d be more prepared.”

Eriksson was leaning against her vehicle. Dressed in an all black pants-suit and smoking a cigarette, you thought she looked pretty cool.

“Oh, another car is coming,” you told Jason.

Another black sedan arrived and stopped right in front of Eriksson. You started snapping pictures.

“Who is it?” Jason demanded.

“Fucking hell,” you swore in surprise. The short, bald and overweight man who wore the tophat was known to anyone in Gotham. “It’s fucking Cobblepot.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” Jason crossed his arms. “Kinda anti-climactic to be honest. Such a predictive plot.”

You ignored Jason and kept snapping photos. Oswald Cobblepot, the wealthiest criminal of Gotham City wobbled towards Eriksson and passed her a briefcase. Jason was right that it wasn’t surprising because it probably was not Cobblepot’s first play in politics. The exchange itself was brief, where Cobblepot said a few words to Eriksson who was nodding intently. Then, both of them left.

After tailing Eriksson back to her house, you called it a night and drove away.

“I wonder what the deal is,” you pondered out loud.

“Probably if Thorne becomes mayor, he would have Cobblepot’s funding in exchange for immunity in the underground,” Jason answered.

“But why Thorne and not Hill? What does Thorne have that Hill doesn’t?”

“Control over Gotham’s largest shipping company?” Jason offered.

“That may be it. We need more evidence,” you concluded. “Drop you off at yours again?”

Jason was staying in an apartment in East End on Kitt Street. You haven’t been inside, and he has not invited you in. You didn’t ask.

***

“Stake out with Jason again?” Dick’s voice made you jump.

You had just reached home and Dick was still in his Nightwing suit sans the mask.

“Yeah,” you walked over to him, “Found out Cobblepot is sponsoring Thorne.”

“Kinda expected, huh?” he smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. “We found some blackmarket items at Dixon Docks the other day in Triton shipping containers. You think that’s related?”

“Definitely,” you agreed, “Just gotta get evidence. But enough about work, how are you?”

“Better now that you’re here,” he leaned in to kiss you.

“You’re all sweaty,” you half-complained as he started down your neck.

“You didn’t complain the first time,” he smirked, “Or the second, or the third, or the-”

“Okay, I get it,” you giggled.

He kissed back up to your lips and settled on a slow, gentle pace. He broke the kiss and said “Get in the shower. I’ll be there soon.”

Your eyes widen at his command and you immediately head to the bathroom and took off your clothes. The water temperature was just right and you stepped in and sighed, washing off the fatigue of the day. A pair of hands snaked around your waist from behind and Dick got wet with you.

He pressed himself against you and you could feel his hardening cock heavy on your back.

“Dick,” you whimpered, grinding your ass on his length.

“Nuh uh,” he teased, “Gotta clean you up first.”

He reached for the body wash and started lathering up soap on you. His strong fingers gently rubbed and slid on your body, down your tummy, in between your legs. “Dick,” you whined.

His fingers parted your lips and found your clit, immediately circling and putting just the right amount of pressure. He knew your body almost better than you knew yourself. All the times he experimented with you and pleasured you meant he knew which buttons to tease and which to push.

“Need- you,” you panted at him.

“Hold onto the wall,” he instructed. You pressed both your palms against the wet tiles and bent over. His hands were placed on your hips to give you support. You trusted that he would not let you fall. This wasn’t the first time you had shower sex with him after all.

“Fuck,” you moaned when you felt him fill you up to the brim. You were familiar with his cock, and how he liked to still inside you after the first push, to get you adjusted to his size but also to tease you. You got yourself ready for what was to come.

He slid out, and with the strong grip on your hips, he fucked you hard back on his cock, forcing the air out of your lungs. You never had time to scream when he was like this with you, because he would pummel into you relentlessly. All you could manage was eyes rolled into the back of your head, and an open wide ‘O’.

In no time at all, you came, and he still fucked you while you got down from your high before pulling out to finish on your ass. The water immediately washed away his cum. Dick was a silent lover, the only sounds he made were soft and quiet moans, a few gasps, and a small groan when he came.

You lost your grip and almost collapsed back onto him.

“You okay there, darling?” he held you up by embracing you in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckled and kissed your temple. “Let’s get you all dried up and tucked in.”

You laid on his chest, hearing his heartbeat. Your eyes were droopy.

“I’ll be going on a mission for a few days,” he informed you. “Leaving tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” you responded, slightly disappointed. “Batfamily or a team thing?”

“Team thing.”

Your chest squeezed.

“Will she be there?”

“Not sure.”

Liar.

“Jason will be there, though,” he added.

That surprised you. “Oh? How come?”

“I asked him if he wanted to do something with the others that didn’t involve Bruce or Tim,” Dick explained, “He agreed. I think it’d be good for him, don’t you?”

“The fact that he agreed means that he is trying his best,” you agreed, “I’m so proud of him.”

“I think spending all that time investigating with you helped him,” Dick said, “Like it was the first step to getting out of his rut, you know?”

“He didn’t even seem like he was in a rut when he was with me,” you wondered back, “I mean- I knew that he was struggling in general with the whole guilt and self-loathing. But I didn’t know he was completely cut off from everyone else.”

“Not completely,” Dick sighed, “But he might as well have been. He tries, though.”

You smiled. Jason always tried his best at anything. “How long will you be away for?”

“Just three or four days. We’re going somewhere south this time. Nothing too big. Bane sighting, so just a recon for now unless we hit something big.”

“Looks like I’ll be on my own for a while, then,” you thought out loud, “I think I’ll just send in my first round of evidence and report to my client. It’s just Thorne’s accountant that is linked to Cobblepot for now, so if they want a deeper investigation linking back to Thorne, they’ll have to wait a little longer while I figure it out.”

“Try not to stir up the pot too much with Thorne, please,” Dick insisted, “I know you can take care of yourself, but I also know you don’t want any attention. It’ll be harder to do future jobs too if everyone knew who you were.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you conceded. You were getting sleepy again. “I’ll figure it out without exposing myself. Considering that I’m high in demand right now means that I should start laying low.”

“They should pay you more,” he stated. “Sleepy? Goodnight, darling. I love you.”

Your eyes closed as you mumbled back a reply.

***

The days that went by were uneventful, but that meant that you had time to sit back and reset.

Dropping off the evidence and report at a different locker from the first, you now had to wait a day before Dick and Jason came back from their mission. You usually dealt with being alone well, but for some reason you felt a tension in your shoulders. This usually happened when Dick was on a mission that lasted more than a couple of days, and especially if she was involved.

Unpleasant memories gnawed at your mind, so you forced them away by reorganizing your case files, your liquor cabinet, and your wardrobe. These were basically the only things you had in Dick’s apartment. You didn’t get attached to things, so the clothes you owned were just the essentials based on occasion- for when you needed to be professional, for when you needed to dress up, for when you needed to seduce, and for the everyday casual. You noticed a lot of dark colors. Navy, midnight, dark brown. Those were the colors you felt most comfortable in. Muted, and in the shadows, where you felt like you belonged.

That was how you kept yourself busy until both of your boys came back. You were anxious and on edge even worse than before, your gut making you feel uneasy. Intuition was one of your strengths, and that made it easier for you to tell what other people are thinking.

Dick had texted you before he returned, a ritual of his. He would always let you know when he was on the way home, safe. A portion of the tension was relieved, but you still felt like a rubber band stretched and waiting to snap.

It was sunset when you heard the familiar jingle of keys muffled behind the door. You stood up from the sofa and straightened your clothes, ready to greet him.

When you saw his face, you gasped.

“Dick! What happened?” you rushed to your partner. He had a large bruise forming on his left cheekbone, spreading to his slightly swollen eyes. “I thought you said it was just a recon.”

He averted his eyes from yours as he closed the door. You went to the freezer to get an ice pack you always kept handy and went to press it on his face.

“I’m fine, really,” he tried to awkwardly smile.

“It’s not everyday you come back with a bruised face,” you worried, “Who managed to hit you? Bane?”

“No,” he couldn’t meet your eyes again. He took the ice pack from you and sat down on the sofa. You took a seat next to him.

“Then?” you persisted. “Tell me.”

Dick closed his eyes and sighed. “Jason did.”

“Jason? What do you mean Jason?” you questioned, perplexed. “Jason punched you in the face?”

He turned his head away from you. It was obvious based on his body language that he was extremely uncomfortable and was hiding information from you. You didn’t need to be a pro to tell that.

“Yeah.”

You blinked. “Dick. I want to hear everything.”

“Yeah, I know,” he replied quietly, “You should know.”

Silence.

“Well?” you probed.

“It was, uh, after the mission. Everything was done and everyone had packed. We were at HQ,” he began, still speaking quietly and averting his eyes. “I was in the living room with Kori. We were just talking.”

At the mention of her name, you now knew where this was going. You felt a heat creeping up your neck and settling in your cheeks, burning. Your heart started racing. Your chest tightened until it started to hurt. Suddenly, all the memories you wanted to push away came flooding back.

Her touch on his shoulder. His eyes lighting up at his phone. You mistaking his phone for yours and seeing her messages. You crying, him apologizing. Nothing has happened between us, he promised. They’re just text messages. We’re just good friends. She’s hardly even on Earth these days.

You bit your lip and turned away, eyes brimming with tears you did not want to let fall.

“…one thing led to another, and,” he continued, “We kissed. Only for a moment. It was less than a second, I swear. Jason walked in on us and he just- he flipped. He grabbed me and punched me in the face. Said a lot of nasty things to both of us. Roy had to break it up, or things would have escalated.”

You remained silent, not knowing how to respond, not knowing what to even feel.

“Darling?” he turned toward you this time to look at you. You were staring straight ahead. “I promise, it meant nothing. It hardly even counts as a kiss. Nothing happened after. I didn’t even say goodbye to her, I haven’t said anything to her after I left.”

You turned to him, now feeling something. Heat, and anger. How dare he.

“It was just a short kiss?” you asked.

“Yeah-“

“But it would have been longer if Jason had not interrupted,” you stated.

“W-what-“

“But it would have possibly led to more than just a kiss if it weren’t for Jason,” you monotoned.

“I… I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Then, Dick Grayson,” you stood up, “We are done.”

You stormed off to your room, Dick following behind you.

“Darling, please!” he called, “Let’s talk about this. Please.”

You grabbed your phone and sent a quick text to Jason.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said coolly. You opened your closet and reached for your backpack.

“Where are you going?” he asked, eyeing your overnight bag.

“That’s none of your business,” you fumed, walking past him toward the door. “There are so many things I want to say to you right now, but I am not in the right mind, and I will end up saying things I will regret.”

“I deserve everything you say to me.”

“You self-pitying bastard!” you turned and roared at him, “How dare you use your own guilt on me. You manipulative piece of-“

You stopped in your tracks, trying so fucking hard to reel in your shadow, to control yourself. You counted backwards. Dick knew not to disturb you at this state.

With one last deep breath, you left.

***

coming over. be there in 30.

Jason had not expected that text from you so soon. He knew you would have found out eventually, because if Dick had the nerve to lie to you, then he would be the one to tell you. It must have been difficult for Dick to tell you the truth, Jason thought. But Dick must have weighed out his options. His older brother knew that lying would have made him looked worse because there was no way Jason was going to keep you in the dark about something like that.

He was worried. Any other man who was in love with you would have been happy to hear that you were coming to them teary and heartbroken by your boyfriend. Any other man would have taken advantage of your vulnerability.

But Jason genuinely did not want you to feel that kind of pain. He wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be happy. You were his best friend. Which was why he was so fucking angry with Dick. How dare he.

He waited outside by the road for you and saw your familiar black sedan pulling over. The next thing he knew, you were in his arms, sobbing into his shirt. He placed a hand on the back of your head, and the other on your waist.

“I know, sunshine, I know,” he whispered to you. The both of you just stayed there in that position for a while. The streetlights were on, and the working class were heading home for the day. Some stared, but quickly averted their eyes when Jason glared at them.

Once you calmed down a little, Jason guided you up to his apartment. “It isn’t much,” he said, anxious about you seeing his tiny place.

It was a single bedroom, with a small battered up sofa and an unplugged TV on the floor. The kitchen area consisted of a single stove next to a small sink with overhead cabinets. One lone fridge stood next to the stove, and a circular dining table with a plastic chair was placed in between the kitchen area and the living room. He hadn’t invited you in this whole time because he didn’t want you to see the sorry state of his current home.

“I haven’t had time to properly get furniture or like, decorate or anything,” he continued. Not like he thought that you were going to judge, but Jason was proper in that sense, where he felt like his guests needed to be comfortable. He did eventually want to do some interior designing, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to put in effort into a temporary space. He eventually would want to move to a bigger apartment.

“It’s fine, Jay,” you sniffled, moving towards his sofa to sit down. Jason gave you a glass of warm water and sat down next to you. “Thanks. Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

“You can barge in anytime, you know that,” he nudged you with his shoulder. “So, come on. Talk to me.”

You looked at him with large watery eyes, and a trembling lower lip. Jason’s heart broke for you.

“He told me why you punched him,” you started, “Thanks for that, by the way.”

“I would have done more,” he grit. Roy shouldn’t have stopped him.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“You already know what happened.”

“Not all of it,” you bit your lip, “He said that you were cursing at them. And Roy had to break it off.”

’You piece of shit, Grayson. What is wrong with you? Who do you think you are where you can do anything you want?’ Jason had said to a guilty looking Dick who was massaging his face after the punch. Starfire was next to him, silent. ‘Your whole Golden Boy persona was just to fool everyone around you, after all, huh? No wonder Barbara left you.’

‘Jason-’ Starfire had interrupted.

‘And you,’ he turned towards her. ��You’re supposed to support other women, not sabotage them and tear them down.’

‘Don’t bring her into this, Jason,’ Dick defended, ‘You know her customs are different.’

‘Bullshit. You don’t get to use that as an excuse anymore. You’ve been here for what, a decade already? You know how we are. You can feel how we are. Time to stop fucking playing dumb, you’re not fooling me.’

‘Jason,’ Dick angrily stepped up to him, ‘Take a walk.’

‘How about you go fuck yourself, you cunt,’ Jason shoved him back, ‘Do you have any idea how long it took for her to trust anyone? Do you have any idea how much of a fucking asshole for you to be in order to hurt someone like her? You’re a fucking sham, Grayson. You’re a narcissist who manipulates people into doing whatever the fuck you want them to.’

‘What’s going on here?’ Roy had stepped in.

‘That’s what you did, didn’t you?’ he went on, ‘She was grieving, and one day she was crying and I bet you swooped in just to fuck her-’

‘You going to tell her, then?’ Dick had smirked. He had fucking smirked at Jason. ‘Isn’t this the perfect opportunity for you? You wanted her all along, right? So you’re going to tell her so she can finally see you as her knight in shining armor? Because whatever you did wasn’t working, trying to sweeten her up by calling her- what was it? Sunny, and Sunshine-’

Jason had it, then. He looked at Dick straight in the eye and-

“I spat at him,” he told you, omitting the rest. “Roy had to stop us then.”

“You didn’t,” you gasped. “Oh Jason, you really didn’t have to.”

“It just happened,” he said honestly, “Everything that happened, it was just instinct to me. I couldn’t let him get away from hurting you.”

You stared at him, and then tackled him into a bear hug.

“Jason, you’re the best,” you said into his chest. “I’m so glad I have you.”

Jason’s chest tightened with longing.

“I know, Sunny. I’m pretty awesome.”

You giggled.

Jason loved making you laugh.

“Could I stay here for a while?” you looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Just a week or two. I’m going to talk to the landlady and see if my old place is still available.”

“Stay as long as you like,” he smiled, caressing your hair.

“I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No. You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t take your bed,” you rolled your eyes at him, “This is your place. You’re doing me a favor.”

“I’m not letting my guest-” he booped your nose, “take the couch.”

“I’ll just sleep here then and you can’t do anything about it,” you insisted stubbornly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jason stood up without warning, and then grabbed you by the hips, lifting you up and throwing you onto his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“Jason- what the fuck!”

“I’m doing something about it,” he chuckled.

“Jason, put me down!” you slapped his back.

He carried you to his room and-

“Put you down? Okay,” he threw you onto his perfectly made king sized bed. He stood looking down at you with his hands on his hips and grinned triumphantly.

You pouted at him. “Fine. How about we both take the bed.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat. “What? No.”

“There’s plenty of space for the both of us!” you argued. “And we used to have sleepovers all the time.”

“That was before!” he argued back, “We can’t share a bed now.”

“And why not?” you demanded.

“It’s inappropriate. You’re a girl, and I’m a guy.”

“It’s only inappropriate if you’re planning to do something inappropriate. Which you aren’t, are you?”

Jason felt heat in his cheeks and silently cursed himself for acting like a school boy.

“Of course not!” he huffed.

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” you gave him a smug look.

Jason silently scowled at you. “Fine.”

“Great, now I call dibs on the bolster.”

Jason didn’t bother arguing with you, because whatever you wanted, he knew he couldn’t say no.

***

In truth, you didn’t want to be alone.

It was funny how you were so used to being alone, and have always found comfort with your own company. Yet this time, the loneliness scared you. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, and Dick doing that to you triggered a kind of fear that you didn’t know existed.

A long time ago, Jason had made a joke about how sharing a room with you meant he could get better sleep since you made it dark and he didn’t need blackout curtains. You realized now that everything he said to you was a way to make you feel better about your shadow, even if you didn’t show any insecurity. He found little ways to let you know how much better it was with your shadow.

After dinner, which was just instant ramen and eggs that Jason had overcooked, the both of you watched a movie on your laptop in bed. Jason had fallen asleep halfway, and you suddenly felt bad for imposing on him. He must have been tired from the mission. You put your laptop away and layed next to him, attempting to fall asleep as well.

But there you were wide awake, suddenly hyper-aware of your own looming darkness around you and Jason’s back facing you. Dick was not your first, but he was your first serious partner. You really loved him, even then as you lay heartbroken.

Fighting back tears, you tried concentrating on Jason’s steady breathing.

He was breathing. He was alive. This time last year you were still mourning him, trying to move on by clinging onto Dick.

Was that what Dick was to you? Were you with him just so you could have an idea of how it would be like if you were with Jason?

Then why did this hurt so bad?

You woke up the next morning to Jason still sleeping next to you. His slight frown that was ever present relaxed slightly while he was asleep. You used to do this last time, too. Whenever you had sleepovers, you would observe him. How his lips were slightly parted, how he would bundle up in the sheets like a burrito. He hadn’t changed in that aspect.

Small scars littered his face, more than before. His eyelashes were slightly longer and darker, as were the circles under his eyes.

He stirred. You quickly turned to lie on your back.

“Hnggh,” he stretched and yawned, “Oh, you’re awake. Mornin’. Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you nodded and moved to get up, “How about you?”

“Not so good,” he rubbed his eyes and looked at you, “Someone was snoring super loud.”

“I do not snore!” you hit him with a pillow.

He laughed.

You cooked breakfast this time, scrambled eggs on toast while Jason waited. While you were eating with him, you asked, “Hey. Do you think you can come with me to Dicks’? I told him to pack up my stuff. It’s not much, but I’d like the company.”

***

Jason noticed you were biting your nails as you drove to Dicks’.

He felt bad for you in your anxious state, the interior of the car much darker than outside. He would have to keep a cool head while he was there, because it wasn’t about him. He was only with you for moral support.

You unlocked the apartment door with your key and turned the knob.

“Baby!” Dick approached you but paused when he saw Jason. “Oh, you’re here too.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I told you not to be here, Dick,” you groaned. “Did you even pack up my stuff?”

“I did,” Dick followed you into your room, “But I wanted to talk.”

Jason let you and Dick have some space, but hovered closeby to make sure you were okay.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you shoved a box into Jason’s arms. “Could you help carry a couple of these? It’s not much, I promise.”

“Sure,” he mumbled back as you stacked another box on top.

“You can bring these to the car first?”

He glanced at Dick. “You going to be okay on your own?”

“I can take-”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but that’s not what I meant,” he said sternly.

You paused. “I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

He left and loaded the car. He walked back to the apartment.

“-you know how I felt about you. How I still feel about you,” Jason overheard Dick. He entered the apartment quietly to watch the two of you talk.

“No, I don’t. I have always felt insecure about her and you knew that. I always suspected that you guys weren’t actually over,” you put a box on the counter and crossed your arms at Dick, lips trembling.

“I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way,” Dick replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But we were there for each other. We both mourned together. That’s not something I shared with anyone else.”

You turned away and glanced at Jason for a moment, who gave you a small encouraging smile.

He hated seeing Dick touch you the way he was.

“And I cared for you and stayed with you,” Dick continued, “Even though I knew that it wasn’t me that made you stay. Even though I knew the whole time you wished I was Jason.”

Jason saw a flash of anger in your eyes, and you slapped Dick’s hand away.

“Richard John Grayson,” you fumed.

Jason recognized the change of aura even though he had not felt it in years. Suddenly, the room grew dark, as if an eclipse were happening right outside.

“How dare you insinuate that I was thinking of another man while I was with you,” you growled, “How dare you think that I stooped that low. That you think I have no decency and dignity to do that to you, when you were the one who kept on running behind my back.”

Behind you, a darkness grew and grew, distorting the lighting in the room in impossible ways. Dick took a step back from you. This was what scared everyone else away from you.

But to Jason, this was one of the most beautiful forms he saw you as. A dangerous, powerful dark queen. He stared in awe at you, his heart racing because he forgot how much he loved seeing you like this. It was as if he had fallen in love with you all over again for the very first time.

Then, Jason remembered where you were, and he knew you would regret it if you were to accidentally cause any harm to Dick.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he stepped in, “The car’s all loaded and ready to go.”

Your eyes snapped back at Jason, and then darted towards Dick. There was a slight panic on your face before the room was bright again.

***

There was a specific kind of anxiety you felt when you feared judgment coming from someone you love, and whose opinions matter to you. You noticed that Jason had been sneaking worried glances at you as you drove back from Dicks’, and even as you both carried your things up to his apartment.

Was he wary of you now? You had lost control of your shadow for a moment when you were angry at Dick. Jason had snapped you back to reality, but you saw the look on his face. Eyes wide with shock and worry.

“I understand if you don’t want me to stay here anymore,” you said when the both of you finally put all your things down in Jason’s apartment. “I have money and I can find a place to stay.”

Jason crossed his arms at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” you hesitated, looking anywhere but his piercing gaze. Suddenly the peeling paint on the walls felt more interesting. “You saw what happened. I understand if you don’t want that kind of danger around you.”

“That kind of danger?” Jason repeated before realizing what you meant. He sighed and walked toward you, skipping past the boxes on the floor. Towering over you, he lifted your chin up with a finger. “Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

“You looked like you were…”

You saw his frustration. “Tell me, amongst the both of us, who here has actually hurt Dick?”

You blinked at him.

“You have this- this darkness, right? Do you think getting beaten to death, resurrected in some weird magic cartoonish toxic waste looking pit and then brainwashed wouldn’t affect me and make me have some kind of darkness as well? Between you and me, I have caused way more destruction than you have. Way more. Do you really think I’d be afraid of you?”

“Well- but- you don’t have this uncontrollable power that could hurt the people you love at any time!” you argued.

“Sunny, listen to what you’re saying!” he responded incredulously, “I literally tried my best to hurt the people I love. You have been trying your best to protect them. Haven’t you?”

You avoided his piercing gaze by looking away. “I guess.”

“So don’t be silly,” he booped your nose, “Put away your things and stay as long as you want. Make a grocery list to stock up the fridge, and maybe help decorate the place a little, huh?”

“Yeah, okay,” you smiled sheepishly at him. “But I don’t want to stay for long. Just until I get somewhere more permanent. There’s only one bedroom and you snore.”

“I do not!” he huffed as he helped pick a box of your clothes to bring to the room.

“Jason?” you called out. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The days flew by and you found it hard not to enjoy this new routine that you and Jason had built. It wasn’t dissimilar to Dicks’ as Jason also went out at night for patrol. The only difference was that he didn’t have a day job, which made you question how he could afford his bills and rent.

“I have my ways,” he simply replied when you brought up the subject. It was dusk on the eighth day you were there and he was armoring up for the night, double checking his weapons and gadgets.

“Are you still doing illegal nightly activities?” you asked.

“We’re a family of vigilantes,” he managed to give you a roll of his eyes before putting on his helmet. “Everything we do is illegal.”

You approached him and placed both your palms on either side of the shiny red metal helmet that were littered with scratches and scuff marks. You could hear his crackled breathing through the built-in voice changer.

“You know what I mean,” you said, rubbing off a mark where his brow should be.

A pause. “Yeah, I have some arrangements with some contacts. But it’s nothing that can harm anyone. No drugs or trafficking or anything. Some smuggling of rare goods. Antiques.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’ve dabbled in some black market antiquities myself.”

“You have?” you heard the surprise in his mechanical walky-talky like voice.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “For a client a couple years ago, and only for a few months. I enjoyed the research, but I find that investigating interpersonal relationships and people was more fulfilling. Which is why I try not to take cases that want me to help take down someone’s competitor. Unless it’s a whistleblower type, then it would be my number one priority.”

“How honorable,” he joked.

“Shut up, Darth Vader,” you laughed, then without thinking, tip-toed to place a peck on the cool metal. “Stay safe, Jay.”

He didn’t reply immediately, and the only thing you could hear was his breathing. The silence made you anxious. Perhaps you shouldn’t have done that?

“Good night, Sunny,” he finally said, and then left through the balcony.

***

It was 6 in the morning on the eleventh day you were staying at Jason’s house when he returned from his night out. His shoulders and neck ached, and he didn’t know whether he wanted to eat or sleep. But the thought of getting under the covers with you by his side helped him with his decision.

He climbed down the fire escape and jumped onto his balcony, avoiding the new potted plants you had gotten him just a few days ago. He slid open the door and started to take off his boots at the same time before pausing at the sight of his dining table.

You were asleep with your head rested on your crossed arms on the table, papers scattered everywhere. He made you promise that night before he left that you would sleep early and take it easy with your work, but since the published article and the following public statement from Thorne, you heard back from your client to go harder.

He took off his helmet and threw it on the sofa. Approaching you quietly, he tip-toed to the dining table and smiled softly. He contemplated carrying you to the room, but he knew he couldn’t pick you up without waking you up.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” he softly whispered and put a hand on your back. You stirred awake.

“Jason?” you mumbled, lifting your head up and blinking. “What time is it?”

“Just after six,” he answered. “Go to bed. Come on. I’ll join you in a sec, too.”

You nodded and yawned, then stumbled to the room. Jason held back a chuckle when he saw you sprawled on top of the sheets.

He washed up and looked at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. He frowned at the hideous scars on his body. Mostly old, some new ones. A bruise was forming across his left rib where he got punched the day before. He quickly put on his shirt, trying his best to hide his ugly body from you.

***

Your neck was stiff when you turned to your side and saw Jason sleeping soundly next to you. He was on his back, his head turned away to the other side. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath. You smiled to yourself when you remembered he had woken you up and made you sleep in bed. You needed to move out soon. You felt bad for taking up his space.

As you were watching him, you noticed out of the corner of your eye that his shirt rode up slightly, revealing his tummy that you knew were hard to the touch. You frowned at the faint scars that littered his skin. You had always liked that about him. Scars on a man was so badass, and you knew Jason was very very skilled at fighting. Those scars showed experience in hand to hand combat with multiple weapons and tools, something you respected.

Your eyes trailed down to his sage green shorts. It wasn’t your fault, you were just following his happy trail in that direction. Your eyes widen and you blushed at what you were seeing. Was… was he hard? No. Not fully. But still, you could see the loose fabric of his shorts stretch out and form the silhouette of his bulge. Your heartbeat quicken and you felt a familiar warmth at the base of your stomach.

Men often got hard when they slept, and contrary to popular belief, it sometimes did not have anything to do with spicy dreams. As their body phased into the rest and digest state, their heartbeat slows, their breathing deepens, and well, they get erections. So now you found yourself breathing hard through your nose at the sight of Jason’s chub, his semi-boner, his leaning tower of-

You closed your eyes.

You had a crush on Jason before, yes, but that was before your sexual awakening. You never had dirty fantasies of him. Just holding hands and kissing in the cinema. And when you were hanging out with him, perhaps you had forced those thoughts away since you were with Dick and would have felt bad for thinking of his brother that way.

But now there was nothing stopping your thoughts from running wild. You opened your eyes again, but looked upwards instead, to his neck stretched out and bare to you. Subconsciously, you licked your lips at the sight of his jugulars, the curvature of his well-developed SCM muscle that made you want to litter little love bites on-

You got ahead of yourself for the first time regarding Jason. And now that you have, you knew there was no way your overactive imagination was going to calm down everytime you looked at him.

You spent the next couple of hours outside on the sofa with your legs up and stretched, switching back and forth between reading a dirty novel to scrolling on your phone. Around 4 in the afternoon, Jason woke up and took a seat next to you with his own book and phone. You curled your legs to make room for him to sit, which he did, but then he took your calves and pulled your legs to rest on his thighs.

You tried hard to read the paragraph you were on. ‘His chocolate brown eyes burned into hers as she watched him crawl between her legs-’

Suddenly you felt the skin of your lower legs burn as Jason rested his forearms on them to read his book. You peeked at him from above your novel and saw his messy bed hair and frown and oh, God he was looking at you.

“What’re you reading?” you quickly blurted to cover up the fact that you were staring at him.

“Middle Eastern history,” he replied, “You?”

Oh, no. You hadn’t thought this far. “Oh. Just a novel.” You hid your face behind your book again.

You felt Jason shift closer to you. “Ooh, a romance novel?”

“Yes.”

He was leaning nearer to read the synopsis at the back. You quickly closed the book and glared at him.

“What’s wrong?” he chuckled, “I just wanted to see what it was about.”

“You wouldn’t like it anyway,” you crossed your arms.

“Or, you don’t want me to know you’re reading smut,” he grinned.

“Am not!” you huffed, putting your knees up in a fetal position, but with your back leaning against the sofa arm.

“I think I saw the word sexy and breathless there,” he teased, reaching out to grab the book from you.

In panic, you threw the book across the room. Jason’s eyes widened in shock at where the book landed. Then he looked at you. And then he burst out laughing.

“So it was smut!” he guffawed.

“Shut up!” you yelled.

He rested his chin on top of your knees and watched you. “Aww, you’re blushing!” he teased again, “No, no, don’t cover up your face, you’re cute when you blush!”

That made you blush even harder. You peeked at him through your fingers and saw that he was still resting his head on your knees with a massive grin on his face. “Don’t call me cute!”

His grin turned into a soft smile. “But it’s true.”

Now you felt like it was your eyes that were being burned into by Jason’s blue ones. His stare had always been so intense, even back when you were teens.

The both of you suddenly were staring at each other for what felt like eons. Suddenly you felt awkward, and you broke eye contact.

“Anyway,” you looked away and got up to a proper sitting position, causing Jason to resume his as well, “What’s for dinner? Wanna go out? I feel like going out.”

You couldn’t bear to be in close proximity with him any longer. You felt like you were going to explode into flames.

“Oh, finally leaving the rabbit hole of old corruption cases, are you?” he retorted.

“You can’t blame me, Jay,” you pouted, “Didn’t you read what they said! It was so infuriating. I would have preferred if they came up with a lie instead.”

After sending your client the photos of Thorne’s accountant meeting up with Oswald Cobblepot, the article made the front page of Gotham Gazette, the author under a pseudonym. The relationship between a well known criminal and the mayoral candidate’s accountant was reported along with the photo you took. There was an uproar on social media and a press conference. Two days after that, another report.

Thorne basically didn’t bother to cover anything up but denied it with a smirk on his face, ridiculing the journalist. Whoever wrote that he had said, has been skulking old internet forums full of conspiracy theorists- and probably has seen one too many YouTube videos on Photoshop. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were a Flat Earther. However, I must express my disappointment in Gotham Gazette. I thought they were a proper news source and not a tabloid magazine.

Along with his smile, charm, and wit, his statement won over everyone again. The next day you received another text promising even more money if you get concrete evidence, bank and witness statements, audio or video recording, or official documents from legitimate sources incriminating Thorne.

“I get it,” Jason nodded, “And the offer for help is still up.”

Jason had suggested breaking into his home.

“I know. When the time comes, Jay. Not now. I still need to piece some things together. And his security is tight. We might need another method.”

“Just let me know when, and I’ll drop everything to help you,” he said seriously. Before you could protest, he continued. “All this Middle Eastern reading makes me want shawarma before going out tonight. I have a… business meeting.”

“Antiquities?” you asked.

“Yeah, some stone inscription.”

“Can I tag along?” you inquired excitedly. “I need to take a break from the cases and come back with a fresh perspective. Only if you’re okay with it. I know there’s probably some hierarchy thing going on.”

“Hierarchy thing?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’re the boss man aren’t you?” you poked him. “You can’t just bring some girl to a business meeting.”

“Because I am the boss man, I can do whatever I want,” he shifted towards you and booped your nose. “And you’re not just some girl.”

You looked away to hide the creeping blush again. What was wrong with you?

“Anyway, sure you can tag along.”

“Yay!” you got up and grinned. “Let me find something to wear.”

You dug through your box of clothes and found black tights, a form fitting black jersey jacket and a black mask that covered your mouth. This was what you usually wore when you had to sneak around.

“Uh,” Jason scratched his head, “No. Wait, turn around.”

You obliged.

“Yeah, no,” he stated, “That material is too thin. Do you have a kevlar vest or something?”

You frowned and went to dig up your old kevlar vest from another box.

“Perfect!” he clapped, “No, hold on. Here.”

He forced you into his oversized black hoodie over the bulky vest. “Now it’s perfect.”

“Jason, I look so chonky!” you complained. “Why can’t I be cool and stylish like you?”

“Because my outfit is already bullet-proof,” he said smugly, “You need to be protected just in case. Now stop pouting and wait here while I change.”

After the both of you got ready, he took you down to another alley into a garage he bought and revealed his 1969 Chevrolet Impala.

“We’re not taking your bike?” you asked, slightly disappointed. You sat in the passenger seat and heard him turn on the engine, the loud rev making you jump.

“We have precious cargo,” he explained.

“Oh, right! The slab,” you facepalmed.

“That, too,” he smirked, “But I was talking about you.”

***

You noticed that Jason changed his body language when he was in Red Hood mode. He stood up straight with his head held high, asserting dominance in the way he walked and moved. You would be lying if you didn’t think it was hot.

“As promised,” the tall and slender man with olive skin and dark facial hair said with his heavy accent. “6th century Byzantine inscription.”

He opened a heavy duty black metal briefcase that showed a gray stone slab with carvings on its surface. You were next to Red Hood, who took a closer look and nodded at you to come closer.

Upon better observation, your eyes widen. No… It could not be.

“Is your consultant satisfied?” the man asked.

Red Hood had introduced you as his consultant in Middle Eastern antiquities for a second opinion. You nodded at him curtly.

“Yes, she is satisfied. As am I,” his distorted voice agreed, “Here is four hundred thousand. As promised. You did well, Malik.”

“Thank you, sir,” he nodded, taking the duffel bag of cash that Red Hood had handed to him.

The both of you exited the dark building where Malik was running his business next to a dodgy law firm and got into the car.

“Jason!” you immediately squealed as he turned the engine on. “How much are you selling that for to the auctioneer?”

“A Byzantine slab would go for eight hundred, probably,” he shrugged.

“Jason, that’s not a Byzantine slab! That’s the ancient Sabaean alabaster stone inscription from the third century. Its last known location was at an auction in Paris, but it originates from The Awwam Temple in Yemen-”

You didn’t finish your sentence because you had noticed Jason’s body language. He hadn’t reacted to you at all. “You knew what it was.”

“Of course I did,” he said. And even though his whole head was covered, you knew he had that smug smirk on his face.

“And you let Malik think it was Byzantine,” you stated, “Because, of course. If he had an inkling of what it was, the price would have went up.”

“You knew what it was too, and you let Malik believe it,” he shrugged, “Proud of you, Sunny, my little con artist.”

Jokingly, he patted you on the thigh to commend you. It was only a few seconds, yet your heart had started racing.

“Who is this auctioneer? Does he know what he’s getting?” you quickly tried to distract yourself.

“Harry Willowman,” Jason replied, “He thinks he is getting a sixth century Byzantine slab, and he is going to try to get away with buying it for less than what it’s worth.”

“Willowman,” you repeated to yourself.

“You know him?” Jason made a right turn into a large estate.

“I’ve dealt with him a few times in the past, but it was a while back. I don’t think he would remember me.”

“Would it be bad if he did?” he inquired, driving the car to a stop in front of the large mansion.

“We’ll just have to see.”

It was weird, going up to a mansion and ringing the doorbell, as if it wasn’t three in the morning, as if you weren’t wearing a kevlar vest underneath the atrociously large hoodie, and as if you weren’t accompanied by the six foot something vigilante wearing a red motorcycle helmet.

You were greeted by the butler, because of course these people had butlers, and the interior really did remind you of Wayne Manor in its classical finishing, but this place had many more things.

From vases and pots, to paintings and tapestry, to old cabinets and random statues of forgotten Gods and Goddesses, the hallway into Willoman’s office itself already looked like a museum. The butler, an old man about sixty years of age, led you up the marble staircase to the second floor and knocked at the first door, the largest.

“Come in,” said the muffled voice behind it.

Red Hood entered first, and you followed behind him.

“Red Hood,” Harry Willowman acknowledged, “And you brought company.”

Harry Willowman was an Englishman in his mid-forties, and was wearing a beige waffle sweater and khaki slacks. His salt and pepper hair was styled back, and he was as handsome as you remembered.

“This is my associate. She is my consultant during exchanges to make sure items are what they say they are.”

Harry leaned forward from his leather chair to get a closer look at you and frowned. “Have we met before?”

“No time for introductions. Here’s your slab.”

Red Hood set the case on Harry’s heavy wooden desk. Harry proceeded to click the locks open. “Ah, my Byzantine-”

You noticed the way his eyes sparkled just for a moment when he saw what was inside.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “This is a beautiful Byzantine specimen. I shall offer you eight hundred for it, like we promised.”

“Ah, but you see, Mr Willowman,” Red Hood protested politely, “We agreed eight hundred for a Byzantine inscription.”

“And you brought me a Byzantine inscription,” Harry acted confused.

Red Hood turned to you and nodded. You knew what he meant.

“Red Hood will take no less than two million dollars for the third century Sabaean alabaster stone inscription,” you said curtly.

Harry raised an eyebrow at you, and proceeded to laugh. “My dear, you don’t think this is the inscription from Awam Temple? The script here is clearly Koine.”

“I am not your dear,” you snapped, “And Koine is a Hellenistic script. As you can see here, it is clearly Middle Persian, or more specifically Sabaean. Some Parthian scripture has Hellenistic influence, but Sabaic specifically, since it is derived from ancient Aramaic, utilizes mater lectionis- a common variable in Semitic languages. Not Hellenistic.”

Harry stared at you in wonder, but then his eyes narrowed, and a smirk appeared on his lips. “I couldn’t recognise you with that ridiculous outfit you have on, Jade. Whatever happened to the tight leather?”

You clenched your jaw. “Two. Million.”

“Downings,” Harry called to his butler, “Fetch our friends here four of those bags, will you? Turns out one of them is an old associate.”

The room was suddenly tense. You could almost feel Red Hood next to you, coiled up and ready to spring.

“Jade The Judge,” Harry recited again, “What a surprise. How did you get her out of her little hiding hole, Red?”

“I don’t make comments about her outfit,” Red Hood snarkily replied.

Harry laughed. “No, Red, you don’t get it. You didn’t see Jade when she was in her prime. What was it that people used to say? When Jade The Judge walks, darkness follows. People used to be terrified of her. But I was completely infatuated. She left as swiftly as she arrived. But we used to have some fun didn’t we, Jade?”

You felt an icy cold shiver run down your spine in disgust. It was before Dick, when you were still mourning Jason.

You noticed Red Hood’s fists clench.

Before anyone could say anything, the butler arrived with four briefcases, struggling to juggle them in his arms.

“You’ll find that every dollar is accounted for,” Harry explained, the mischievous twinkle in his eye still ever present. “Because I know you will have my head if any small amount is missing.”

You picked up two briefcases, and Red Hood picked up the other two. Without saying any goodbyes, the both of you turned and left the room, but not without hearing Harry’s voice in the distance calling out to you. “I’m looking forward to more leather tights, Jade!”

The ride back home was silent. Jason drove into the garage and parked, taking off his helmet. The both of you walked to Jason’s apartment, and upon entering, you took off your mask, the hoodie, and the uncomfortable vest.

Before anything else was said, you quickly blurted out. “We did.”

Jason turned to you with his eyebrows raised. “Hmm?”

“Harry and I. We slept together. A few times. It was a long time ago,” you shuffled your feet. For some reason, you felt like you were a deer caught in the headlights of a car. You didn’t know why you were confessing this to Jason, and you didn’t know why you felt such shame doing so.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” he came up to you and smiled softly.

“I know, but you were thinking it.” Tears were brimming. “It was before Dick, when I was mourning you still. I was in a very dark place, and I was reckless for the sake of being reckless.”

Jason then frowned. “Does he know your real identity?”

“Oh, God, no!” you shook your head furiously, “I had my mask on, or it would have been in the dark.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your feet. “I figured I might as well get it out of the way.”

“Well, thank you for telling me,” he replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you forced a smile. “Go shower first. I need a drink.”

You downed a shot of vodka and took a long, deep breath. After a while, you heard the shower turn off in the room. You head to the shower.

You opened the door to Jason’s room and was greeted with him shirtless with only his sweatpants on. He was drying his hair with his towel, but droplets of water fell onto his skin, running down his body. You gulped and blushed before saying “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

Jason’s eyes widen when he realised you were there. “Sunny! No! I’m sorry. Fuck! Let me put on a shirt real quick.”

He rushed to his closet and put on his shirt, but not before you caught a glimpse of his toned back muscles flexing with movement. Fuck.

“I’m really fucking sorry,” Jason said.

“What? Jason, no. I’m the one who intruded. I’m sorry, I know you’re shy,” you exasperatedly tried to calm him down. But Jason looked like he was in pain.

“No. I know how fucking disgusting my body is. You weren’t meant to see it. Sorry.”

You were shocked into silence. He was standing in front of you, but his head turned away.

“Jason,” you gently approached him, “Who told you that?”

“No one,” he denied, “But I know how I look, and I don’t want you to have to see that shit.”

“Oh, Jason,” you sighed. “I don’t find you disgusting at all.”

“You don’t have to be nice,” he grit, “I saw you looking.”

Suddenly, you felt the familiar heat creep up to your cheeks. “I- uh, I. I was looking. Yes. I was. But not because I think you’re disgusting. I was- uh. I was… admiring…you…”

“What?” he frowned.

“Look,” you gathered your courage and pierced his eyes with yours. “I’ve seen your scars, yes. And the way I see it, your scars means you are a skilled fighter. All those lessons learned. All that experience. I wish I had your skills. But I just have this stupid shadow. So I respect it. I respect your scars, and your body, and you.”

Jason was still quiet. You could almost see the gears in his head turning as he contemplated on your words.

“And,” you decided to come out with it. “I think. That. Your body. Is. Superhotorwhatever.”

Now you were blushing furiously, but was still watching Jason’s expressions. His frown subsided, and then the corner of his lips twisted upwards in a smirk. “You think I’m hot?”

“Ugh, I should not have said that,” you groaned and turned to walk away.

“No, no, tell me more about how you like my body,” Jason laughed.

“Stop!” you whined, “I’m going to shower.”

“Wait,” he stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you. Really. I wouldn’t have believed you if you hadn’t been blushing.”

“Go away!” you ran to the bathroom and closed the door on Jason chuckling at you.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, processing the day, the night, and the feelings that you felt since the day before. You groaned to yourself when you hit the realization.

You had a crush on your best friend. Again.

[bluedalahorse]

posting fic snippets out of a desperate need to feel something (that isn’t stress)

There are more real things to be stressed about, and then there are also things to be personally stressed about, like the camping trip I will be away chaperoning from Wednesday to Friday. I do not particularly love to be away from home or disruptions to my routine.

I had hoped to finish the fanfic I was working on before I left, because then I could just avoid my email inbox and my AO3 account and not constantly refresh to see if anyone decided to read my fic. But! That did not happen. It probably won’t happen because I still have the last scene to finish and those always take me too long.

I still want to share a little bit of fic though, so I think I’ll post some of the raw unedited text from today’s work. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Anyway have some post-university pre-second-chance-saraugust, I guess.

Usually driving home—or in this case, driving back to the temporary apartment she’s renting this week—is a way for Sara to decompress after long days on set. She can put on music or an audiobook, or call Simon and Felice. Sara wants nothing more than to recap the last ten hours to one of them, just so they can reassure her she isn’t overreacting. But Simon and Wilhelm are catching up with Rosh and Ayub over pizza and boardgames, and tonight is one of the nights Felice works late in her food truck.

Mamma? Things are better with Mamma lately, but she’d still tell Sara to not read too much into the directors’ and writers’ decisions. Pappa might understand better, if he’s sober, but Sara doesn’t want to reach out unless she’s certain he is.

What is she thinking? It’s not like she can go too far into the behind-the-scenes details of Age of Liberty, anyway, since the production team made her sign an NDA, and that means no venting.

When Sara returns to her temporary rental, the kitchen lights are too bright. They’re the same lights as yesterday, so she must be overstimulated. She flicks them off and on a few times trying to decide if she can stand them, before she finally lets the square yellow light of the microwave faintly illuminate the room instead. Then, Sara scrolls through her phone as the starchy, comforting smell of pasta fills the air.

Instagram provides the usual array of photographic distractions: the girls’ football team Rosh coaches, the award-winning hibiscus cake from Felice’s dessert menu, the too many ads for hair care products and earplugs and soft clothing and tropey novels. That’s mixed in with occasional news articles about climate change, as well as infographics from other neurodivergent influencers with bullet points about masking or proprioception or social scripts. Sara lets the images blur before her eyes and the letters in usernames turn into meaningless shapes, until a familiar expression—one that habitually holds back grief—causes her thumb to finally stop swiping.

It’s the official instagram of the Crown Prince of Sweden. August’s most recent post shows him working at a desk, head bowed over a neat stack of papers. He’s gripping a pen and wearing glasses, but he isn’t writing on the paper. The glasses are new and make him look serious. To his left is a tablet-sharped therapy light. That’s even newer, and it washes August’s face in a muted silver glow. Sara wonders if anyone will recognize the light’s true purpose.

Then she reads the caption: As the hours of daylight grow shorter, many Swedes show increased symptoms of depression. Don’t forget to spend time outdoors, and reach out to your medical provider if you are experiencing persistent low moods or feelings of hopelessness. Take care.

The microwave beeps as Sara reaches the last two words of the post. She puts her phone away as she extracts her pasta and sits down at the table to eat. After an initial few bites, her mind fills up with questions. Is the post meant to be a simple public health message? Or is there a more personal meaning behind it?

She shouldn’t be ruminating this much when August is her ex, and for good reasons, but after a long day—one where Sara’s surroundings had her thinking about August anyway—can she really help it?

After Sara moves her empty pasta bowl to the sink, she returns to her phone. The photo has disappeared from her feed when she opens the app again, which doesn’t surprise her. When Sara navigates over to the Crown Prince’s official account, however, the photo isn’t there either.

Someone had it deleted. Probably some social media manager who works for the royal court.

The palace loves it when you promote sympathetic causes, Wilhelm once told Sara. As long as the sympathetic cause you promote has no connection to you whatsoever.

[sailoryooons]

Had a big flop of a date and I'm sad.

Need a bff Yoongi that listens to your wallowing and tells you you don't need to be getting your feelings hurt by other dumb boys because he's RIGHT HERE and he's ready to give you everything you need )))):

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: You’re tired of the revolving door of boys in your life. Yoongi is tired of watching you nurse feelings in the quiet of your apartment. 

❀ Word Count: 1,406

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, a little angst, fluff

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: A little bit of angst, descriptions of loneliness and frustrations on dating, a little bit of insecurity, Hali’s Obnoxious Takes on Dating in 2023, a cute lil kiss, nothing too crazy

❀ Published: August 18, 2023

❀ A/N: Pardon me while I wax poetic about the current state of dating, especially with all these damn apps in the world. I hope this was able to capture how you felt in a way that feels authentic and then shatter it and make it better by offering a very sweet Yoongi ready to date you. I am so sorry your date was shitty, genuinely this is why I do not go on them!!!! This is currently unedited.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

Outside of your apartment window, the world is washed in gold. As the sun sets, you wish you could appreciate it a little more. The world looks beautiful outside, buildings like hammered bronze in the light, curtains lit up like a flame as they catch the rays of sun.

You look away from it, staring at your TV that is turned off instead. It’s silent in your apartment, the hum of the refrigerator the only noise. With your legs crossed on the couch, you tap your nails against the steaming mug of tea in your hands.

Sitting. Waiting. 

In another life, you’d perhaps be out on a date on account of the nice evening. The cool autumn air drifts through the cracked window, carrying the scent of possibility.

The only dates you’ve been on usually go two ways: they end in blocked numbers after uncomfortable interactions, or hurt feelings after being strung along for a few dates before eventually sending unanswered texts. 

It makes sense that dating is hard, but no one ever told you it would be this hard, trying to swim in a rushing river of dating apps, men who use therapy-speak to excuse their bad behavior, and people who have no accountability for others feelings. 

The sound of the front door opening brings you out of your melancholy daze. Yoongi walks in with a bag of takeout, immediately filling your apartment with the smell of fried wontons and the distinct hint of soy sauce. 

For the first time that day, you grin, unfolding from your spot on the couch and heading to wear Yoongi throws you a nod, already unbagging the food. You move wordlessly in tandem, grabbing drinks from your fridge with extra sauce and napkins. By the time you’ve returned to the counter to sit, Yoongi is already on his self-appointed stool, holding out his hand for chopsticks. 

This is what you need, you think as you pass them over. Someone who can speak to you without words, someone who just knows. Knows that when you sit down next to him, you need him to lean over and press a gentle kiss to the top of your head. It’s affection between friends, but it makes your heart flip. It always does, and you always ignore it.

“Talk to me about it,” Yoongi says, picking up a saucy strip of beef. “I want to hear about it.”

He doesn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say these things for his benefit. He says them because he knows that you’re too afraid of being inconvenient or annoying to speak the thoughts rolling around your head. His instincts are spot on - you do want to let out what’s inside of you, and the gentle encouragement that he wants to hear it does the trick.

“I guess I just don’t know what the point is,” you start, staring at your rice. “I really want a partner and someone that I can do life with or whatever so I’m less lonely, but I’m also so sick of first dates and having to play a game of social chess.”

“Dating in this era is impossible,” Yoongi agrees. “There’s a lot of very unempathetic and unaware individuals.”

“Exactly. Or people think they have endless options and it’s like, just because someone is in your DMs telling you that you look nice doesn’t mean that’s a potential suitor. It just means someone thinks you’re hot.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, so the last guy basically told me that he wanted to keep his options open because he has options. And it got me thinking: do people actually have all these options for life partners, or is it just people who are giving them attention online?”

“I see.”

“Online clout is not the same as a relationship option,” you conclude. “And I’m tired of people confusing the two. Or getting people who think it’s cool not to care about their partner or who use weaponized therapy words at me to avoid accountability. I had some guy tell me he was setting a boundary for me on monogamy and that me being interested in a one-on-one relationship was a violation of his feelings and that I need to be open.”

Yoongi stops eating and looks at  you. His mouth presses in a firm line, the only sign that he’s truly irritated. “Did he say that before you started to go on dates?”

“Nope. Only later when I became invested.”

“Then it’s bullshit,” Yoongi scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re interested in different things, not violating a boundary. What an asshole.”

“They all are.”

Groaning, you press your forehead to your palm, supporting the weight of your head with your elbow on the counter. You hate this. Hate the way it all makes you feel, hate that you want something so bad but it seems just out of your reach, hate that you’d love to find someone like Yoongi.

Once, you’d thought about asking him. You’d decided that your friendship was more important, because without him, who is there? 

Now you look for someone - anyone - to do the bare minimum. To not make it feel like you’re searching for a needle in a haystack the size of Olympus, or like you’re being irrational for wanting human decency. 

“I’m not,” Yoongi says softly. You hum a question, confused as to what he’s talking about. “An asshole,” he clarifies. “I’m not an asshole.” 

“Well I know that. But I’m not dating you.”

“So try it, then.”

You lift your head from your palm, looking at him sharply. Yoongi isn’t much in the way of poking fun at you - not in a way that is really at your expense. He doesn’t seem to be joking now, staring at you with honest, brown eyes, chewing his lip. 

“What?” 

“I said what I said.” He drops his gaze for a second - perhaps towards your lips - and meets your eyes again. Your heart speeds up, thudding against your ribcage. “So try dating me.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

He scowls. “Of course I’m not. I’m being serious.”

“You want to go on a date with me?” He nods. “Why?”

Blowing out a long exhale of air, Yoongi shrugs. The golden light from the sunset hits him at just the right moment, then. He’s wreathed in gold, a shining beacon of hope. Of an answer. Of something more. You lick your lips as Yoongi considers his answer. 

“Because I like you, for starters,” he says, giving you a look. A look that means he thinks you’ve asked a silly question. “Because I think that you are wonderful and creative, and a gentle soul. Because I think you deserve someone who is interested in working on something with you, and who won’t flee at the first sign of conflict. Because I empathize with you, I enjoy doing life with you, and because you’re beautiful.”

Any worry you’ve had about your feelings for Yoongi comes to a standstill. There, in your apartment, in the honey-haze of evening, you drop your chopsticks and press forward. Curious, a little bold, a little terrified. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath of air when he realizes what you’re doing, but he lets you anyway. 

Yoongi’s lips are soft. He tastes a little like soy sauce and sweet and sour, but you don’t care. Your heart thrums in your chest and your hands shake when you lift them to cradle his face. His hands go to your waist, holding you confidently, like they were made to fit there. 

Warmth blooms inside of your chest, unfurling dizzy petals as you pull your lips away from his. You don’t know where you got the bravery, but as your eyes flutter open to meet his gaze, deep and unwavering, you realize you don’t know why you were ever scared to consider him. 

Yoongi has always been right there. Holding your hand when you were lonely, offering a joke when you were sad. There have been countless times you could have had this, you realize. Little moments where the tension grew too thick or your gazes lingered too long. 

It’s only until now that someone was brave enough to say something. 

“Okay,” you breathe, fingers gentle against his warm face. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “It’s really that easy, huh?”

“It always was. I was always right here.”

You press your lips against his again, chaste and sweet. 

“You’re right. You were always right here.” 

[gluion]

serene (it’s what i hope for me) ➵ eric sohn

non-idol!eric sohn x reader

you should’ve known that eric wouldn’t be the one.

genre/warnings ➵ angst no happy ending, exes au, gender neutral reader, unedited, lowercase intended, shift between past and present to represent waves (hence the italics), the chilling realization of your suspicions always being right

word count ➵ 845 words

taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

playlist ➵ california and me by laufey // you missed my heart by phoebe bridgers

a/n ➵ on my period and in my eric feelings :’) inspired by “california and me” by laufey. please listen to it! it genuinely resembles the feeling of ocean waves, hence the constant shift between past and present :3 and no, the ocean waves pics have no relation to this fic i just love ghibli aesthetics for the banner. i hope you all like this drabble! don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback!

it’s not summer where you are, but you stand where the season lives; sand in between toes, sea meets the shore. you bask in the sunlight as you look at the expanse of blue while the breeze comes and goes.

it’s serene here, beautiful—but it’s lonely; not a single sight of another person here to appreciate where summer continues to live amidst all seasons.

“i’m sorry.” those are the words that first leave eric’s mouth once you two arrive at the han river, the first words to confirm your suspicions of tonight.

you hold your breath. “w—what?”

“i know, i—”

“did i do something wrong?” your glossy eyes shine like stars under the moonlight; you almost hope they’re enough for eric to take those words back.

“no, no!” he attempts to reassure you but they’re meaningless after what he told you. “it’s not your fault. nothing is your fault.”

seagulls flap their wings, croaking out sounds of their whereabouts, finding their flock they may have been separated from. as you hear a similar sound in the distance, you watch the flock rush off.

the ocean runs to kiss the land every time it has to go, regardless of how long the two are kept away from each other. the deep blue rushes to bathe the pale cream, reassuring they will always return.

and while the beach is heaven on earth, you grow bitter. surrounded by instances of one coming back—choosing to reunite with the other—you wonder if that’ll ever happen to you.

“i—i could call you every night, or morning! maybe i can—”

“y/n, no,” he cuts you off. “we talked about this before, remember? we can’t do long distance, we’ve always hated it.”

your lips tremble. “you don’t even want to try?”

silence settles between you two.

“i would try to make it work for us, but you wouldn’t?”

a sigh leaves him. his hand reaches to rub his temple. “but it wouldn’t be fair to us.”

your phone rings. you look at it to see your best friend calling, so you answer it, putting it against your ear.

“y/n, i have to tell you something.”

a chuckle leaves you. “i know.”

“huh? but how? he only posted that picture an hour ago,” chanhee points out. “do you still follow his instagram?”

you only hum in disagreement.

“did you check his profile again?”

as you look down at your feet that’s consumed by the sand, a sigh leaves you.

“i thought we agreed to not look at his socials anymore! do we need to talk—”

“no, chanhee,” you cut him off. “i didn’t look at any of his accounts.”

“then how do you know? you knew exactly what i was referring to. how?”

you close your eyes, letting the heat of the sun and the coolness of the breeze consume you whole. “i just know.”

you look away from eric, allowing your eyes to take in the sight of the river stream continuously flow as it reflects the luminescence of korea—city lights and stars all together.

such a beautiful sight, but such a shame that it’s been soiled by his words.

“you’re right,” you find yourself saying. “we’ve talked about it before, we could never survive in a long distance relationship.”

you look back at eric. his go-to smile and the sparks in his eyes—all vanished in one night.

“i just wish we could.”

“i know. i do, too.”

your eyes peel open, greeted by the sight of the serene once more. you wish it could stay like this—tranquil, lasting.

“i hope you’re okay,” chanhee says on the other line. “i’m sorry that this is happening.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “it’s okay, i’ll be okay.” it sounds convincing to you but not to your best friend. “i’ll call you later, okay?”

he hums for a moment. “okay, i’m here for you.”

you drop the call. you stare at your home screen for a moment until you decide to open up instagram.

you shouldn’t be doing this, especially after chanhee’s reminder, but your best friend's words have cracked the dam that held the water from pouring out.

you type his user like a password—discreetly, one you still know by heart.

in a matter of seconds, you see his profile pop up as a top suggestion. your thumb hovers over it, unsure if you should proceed or save yourself from reality. but you remember that it won’t change anything—nothing will change if you decide to look or not.

so you click on his profile, and your eyes land on the most recent post. from the preview in his profile grid, you already know that you were right. a bitter smile settles on your lips.

you shut your phone close and shove it into your pocket. your eyes land back to the ocean, glossy once more like that one night. it’s still a beautiful sight, but it’s a shame that it’s been soiled by one post.

in the same way the waves come and go, he always goes back to her.

[skibasyndrome]

Sunday Snippet

so for many reasons (one of them being the evil hypercritical gremlin inside of my head) I didn't quite finish my contribution to the prompt "hands" for Wille month quite yet, and I'm currently working on just... revamping the whole thing. And, well, because last week this snippet thing helped me hold myself accountable, here goes a very unedited snippet:

Matted curls are sticking to Simon’s forehead, kiss-bitten lips parted for short puffs of air to escape, eyelashes hitting his skin dramatically whenever he blinks up at Wille. He’s stunning, he’s everything Wille has ever wanted and more, and Wille needs to- he has to… He puts both of his palms onto Simon’s shoulders, letting their weight settle on top of his skin. Allowing his fingers to splay and then move back together, watching closely where the two of them are connected, feeling skin and tendons and the way Simon’s chest is lifting with every breath. And it’s beautiful, breathtaking, fascinating. When he splays his fingers widely, it’s just enough to cover Simon’s entire shoulder, from the point where it curves into his upper arm to where it meets the slope of his neck. Simon has stilled, is now looking up at him expectantly, none the less pretty. Wille does it again, lets the base of his palm rest on Simon’s collarbone and watches his fingers extend, skating over skin that Wille loves and knows, skin the taste of which Wille has memorized. “Wille…” A whine, it’s a plea, it’s a question. Wille nods, still entranced, still busy committing the dimensions of Simon’s body to his memory, the way in which Wille's hands manage to cover and not-quite-cover parts of him. “Wille…” And there Simon is again, now wiggling his shoulders, jutting out his chin, searching for Wille's eyes. And Wille meets his gaze, but doesn’t say anything, can’t quite explain, just wants to feel and needs to see. So he just moves his palms, lets them slide down, spreads his hands out on top of Simon’s chest, watching how far they can reach, how much of Simon he can touch at once. It’s fascinating, it’s gorgeous, it’s thrilling. Simon’s skin is soft, smooth, covered in a fine coating of sweat and Wille gets to feel it all, gets to feel the tingle of their connectedness from the very tip of every finger down to the root of his palm, skin to skin, so warm and so… present. He's so... present. Real. Tangible. “Wille, what are you doing,” Simon’s asking, more coherent now, and Wille is almost disappointed, wants him back to bliss and back to feeling instead of thinking.

[disfiguredlovewrites]

— #LOVESICK

Adelaide x fem reader

Manhwa: I will abdicate my title of empress

CW: OCC actions

Word count: 408 words

Unedited

"Adele, focus on me, please?" Y/n whines as she holds her lover's arm. Adelaide merely chuckled at the display. “I have work to finish dear, can't you just wait a little more?" She asked teasingly, nevertheless she continued working. It made Y/n whine even more.

"You have so engrossed in your work these days and I just feel a little unloved…." Y/n said as she folded her arms over her chest and leg out an annoyed sound. Y/n looks away for a second before looking back at Adelaide with puppy dog eyes. "Will you please spend some time with you poor lover?" She asked, clasping her hands together in a begging manner.

Adelaide only gave Y/n a soft smile. “Alright alright, I will do the work later." She says, chuckling, putting the quill back and stacking the papers neatly. Y/n let out an excited sound as she hugs Adelaide tightly. "Oooo! Can we maybe walk in the garden? Perhaps cuddle?" She asked, kissing Adelaide continuously on her face, not letting the latter talk or breathe properly.

"Ah- Calm down N/N, I am not going anywhere." Adelaide teased as she tried to stop the oncoming flood of kisses. "I am sorry but I can't help it." Y/n said with a giggle, stopping only after a few minutes. Adelaide sighed while blushing slightly, thank god the kisses had stopped, anymore and she would've collapsed. "How about we just cuddle hm? I have been tired these days after all." Adelaide calmly suggested, trying calm herself down after the actions her lover exuded.

"Yes! That would be lovely." Y/n said as she blushed and smiled brightly. Adelaide stood up as she held out her arm for her lover to grab. Y/n happily complied and they calmly walked together towards Adelaide’s room. Y/n continued rambling on about things Adelaide didn’t quite understand but still listened to.

(I don’t how to build up from here so just imagine they reached the room and are cuddling on the bed.)

Adelaide held y/n close to her, gently gripping the latter’s hand and giving it gentle kisses. They held each other close as if their life depended on it, whispering words of affection. Adelaide couldn’t ask for anything better then this.

She was glad she met Y/n. ‘I suppose this is worth marrying that man.’ Adelaide thought as she peppered her lover’s face with kisses.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @disfiguredlov3. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites without my permission. Likes, reblog are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[holdmymallowsweet]

TRICK OR TREAT! 🎃🍭😈

Hehe, thank you! I'll treat you a stupid Ominis x Mc scene, still unedited so it might be a bit rough around the edges, but hopefully still fun. Happy Halloween! 🧡

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked. His face contorted into a long suffering expression. The honest answer was no, at least not in this instance- but he hesitated to tell her that. He trusted her not to harm him on purpose, to have his best interest in mind, but he didn’t exactly trust her judgement. He instinctively raised his hands, then froze. That was another thing he hadn’t taken into account, that he’d have to touch her, somewhere, to hold on- but where? Her shoulders? Her waist? It almost didn’t matter, touching her anywhere would give him a pleasure that she didn’t volunteer to provide. “Not all broom models are enchanted to carry more than one person, you know. Perhaps it would be better to check if yours is, before we try this.” There, it was a perfectly reasonable excuse to call this whole thing off. He’d given her a way out, all she had to do was take it.  But of course, she didn’t. She scoffed. “You wouldn’t know, but I’m really not that big. And neither are you, for that matter. I’m sure the broom can handle it.” Did she just call him scrawny? “I beg your pardon,” he protested, with a fair amount of wounded pride, “I’m a perfectly average height and weight for a wizard my age.” As far as he knew, anyway. “You’re a bit thinner than the average boy our age. It’s not a bad thing,” she said with an amused lilt in her voice, probably trying not to laugh. “Fine. Let’s go then.” At least she’d have to watch where they were going, and would hopefully miss the obvious blush spread over his cheeks. The prospect of plummeting to his death also felt more appealing than a few minutes ago. “Where should I hold on?” “Wherever you’d like.” Not his preferred answer, and it took him all his willpower not to follow a rather crude train of thought.  “You better hold on somewhere though, we're starting to get some funny looks.” His hands flew to her shoulders at that, causing her to laugh in earnest. “Ready?” “No,” he answered honestly.

[justjams2003]

Matchmaker

I know I am terribly inactive, but I’ll be postin a lot within next week. If you’d like to interact with me, get a vote on what I write next or just hear my random thoughts, follow me @sloppyzengarden.

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary: Seb is the one who set you and Lewis up, it’s only sensible you honour him somehow.

Warnings: Fluff, Pregnant reader

Word count: 590 words. Unedited

Sebastian has always been there for the two of you. You were a photographer and social media manager for Ferrari when Seb was there back in 2015. You two instantly clicked and people loved to gossip. Though the moment he first talked to you, he knew you and Hamilton would hit it off.  

He was dead right. From the moment he introduced you, you and Lewis were instantly attached at the hip. It was not even 3 months before he asked you out and obviously you said yes. The very next season you moved over to the Mercedes team and you two could spend even more time together.  

Even if you yourself were a social media manager, Lewis did not want you in the public eye. Wanting to protect you from paparazzi. It was rare that Lewis posted pictures of you on his Instagram and while you managed the Mercedes account, you didn’t feel like having your own.  

It was only on very special occasions that he did post you. Like his wedding proposal, your wedding and, of course, his Championship celebration. The people loved you and cherished any opportunity they could find to spot you two together.  

So, when you arrived together to the paddock, with a rounded tummy looking about six months pregnant, it was safe to say people were shocked. Cameras were violently going off and the paparazzi were asking about a million questions at once.  

You were quick to get to the Lewis’ room, not wanting to answer each and every one of them. Though you were stopped by Seb on your way there. “Lewis, Y/N! Just look at how big he’s gotten!” The German man was the only one you told on the grid, but the team does know.  

You chuckle at him, “Just how sure are you it’s a he?” You ask him, still holding Lewis’ hand. He smiles at you; he loves that you two are still so close friends. Especially considering how close he’s gotten with the Sebastion over the years.  

“Lewis agrees with me, yes?” He asks, giving the dark-haired man. Your husbands gives a shrug and places his hand on your swollen belly. “I don’t mind, as long as they’re healthy.” He gives you a kiss at that moment, but a simple peck.  

Luckily for you, the baby came in the winter, born the 5th of December. Also lucky for you, the birth was smooth and went quick. It’s a little boy, with the cutest curly black hair and a little button nose. You both were head over heels over this little babe.  

“Y/N, just look at how cute they are!” Hannah calls out, coming in the room right as you are holding the little one. Seb seems entirely awe struck. Seeing one of his best-friends hold the hand of his very own child.  

Lewis goes over and gives him a hug, “I’m a dad, man,” Your husband hasn’t stopped smiling since you both heard your baby’s first cries. Telling anyone he can about his child. You call over the blonde man and gently hand him the babe.  

The love of your life nods at you, almost immediately wanting to tell Seb the surprise. You smile, “Hannah, Seb, we’d like you to meet Amory Sebastion Hamilton.” At that moment, little Amory lets out a giggle grabbing his papa’s finger.  

Seb looks entirely shocked and enamoured, struggling to keep the tears from flowing. “Really?” He turns to Lewis just to make sure. The world champion nods, his smile growing even wider. “Of course, if it weren’t for you, this little man wouldn’t be here.”  

[ugh-yoongi]

Can I request for the Yoongi drabble event a scenario like meeting an old high school crush at a reunion. Thank you and also wishing a happy birthday to Bee!

thank you so much for the request! not sure this is exactly what you had in mind, but i hope you enjoy it anyway!

also gonna plug one of my all-time favorite fics to further scratch your high school reunion min yoongi itch: a love that endures by @cinnaminsvga ♡

unsaid

pairing: yoongi x gn!reader genre: high school reunion au, estranged best friends to lovers, fluff warnings: reader has misanthrophic and illegal tendencies, mentions of alcohol, drug use (weed), swearing, yoongi has a thing against accountants, vague american setting just so the things i say make sense, unedited. rating: mature i guess? wordcount: 1k listen to: unsaid by flor

it's bee's birthday! send me yoongi requests and/or fic recs!

You’re too old for this kind of shit.

You’d known exactly what you’d signed up for. A ten-year high school reunion doesn’t leave much room for interpretation, so you’re not exactly surprised, you’re just tired. It’s been hours of playing politics, playing pretend. Smiling at people whose names you wouldn’t be able to remember with a gun to your head as they talk endlessly about their marriages, their kids, their cushy jobs.

The pictures are the worst part.

There’s only so many different ways you can ooh and ahh over a fucking goldendoodle.

And of course—of course you had to elect a complete teetotaler as your class president, so it’s the Prohibition Era all over again even though you’re twenty-eight years old and alcohol has been legal again since 1933.

Fuck, you really need to get out of here.

Someone’s at your side showing you another picture of a wrinkled newborn. Karma is real and this is it, you think. When you die and inevitably go to hell, it’s going to be full of people showing you pictures on cracked iPhone screens. Dogs with cloudy eyeballs, unfocused pictures taken on cruise ships, kids with chocolate smeared on their faces, golf trips. How much of this can a person conceivably take? Surely there’s a limit.

Wordlessly, you abandon the person to your right. Don’t bother excusing yourself, because you haven’t seen these people in ten years and you’re going to make it twenty with no issue, and push your way through the crowd. Sparser now than it had been an hour ago, because all the people with sense did their rounds and bailed as soon as they realized it was a non-alcoholic event.

You’ve got to admit: even if your class president is a teetotaler, they picked a good venue.

From where you stand, the city sparkles below you. The summer breeze is cool on your skin, wraps around you like a safety blanket, and maybe you hadn’t had the good sense to leave earlier, but you’re nothing if not a pre-planner. So you rifle through your bag, let out a quiet hurrah of triumph when you spot your lighter and the joint you’d rolled, and it’s stuck between your lips and lit in a nanosecond.

“Feel like sharing?”

You startle. Swear as you fumble and drop your lighter. You’d know that voice anywhere, because it’s been ten years and it still sounds the same. A little rougher around the edges, but that’s to be expected with the passage of time. “It’s been ten years, Min Yoongi. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Is that a no?”

You shrug. Hand the joint over. Try to ignore how familiar this feels. “Can’t believe you showed up to this thing.”

“Me neither,” he retorts, words jumbled together. He flicks the lighter once, twice, and then there’s a spark and a flame. He takes a hit, holds it, blows the smoke into the night. “Thought maybe you’d show up, though. Looks like I was right.”

“That seems a bit drastic. You could’ve added me on Facebook like a normal person.”

He snorts. Rolls his eyes. “Do I seem like the Facebook type?” Takes another hit.

“You seem like the type to smoke all my fucking weed. I said I’d share, not do charity work.”

Yoongi’s laugh is a little condescending. Might even sound cruel if he were capable of it. “Wow. You haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

How would you know, you want to say, we haven’t spoken in ten years. But then Yoongi’s mean little laugh morphs into something softer. A smile. “Thank god. I thought you’d show up with a ring on your finger and three kids and be, like, a fuckin’ accountant or something.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You take the joint when he hands it back. “What’s wrong with accountants?”

He ignores your question, just lets the two of you exist alongside one another. The city is always loud, but it’s peaceful from where you are, passing a joint back and forth with a person you used to know better than you knew yourself. A person who’d left at the first opportunity and never looked back.

A person you spent a lot of time mourning, both because you missed him and because there was so much left unsaid.

“I think I used to be in love with you back in high school,” you say, because you’re not sure if you’ll get another chance. Ten years ago you’d thought you had all the time in the world. “And then you left and I was kind of a mess for a while, so I think I have changed. I have trauma now.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah, you’re full of shit. You’ve always had trauma.”

“That’s not very nice.” You pout.

“I seem to recall more than one night out with you that nearly ended with both of us in the back of a cop car.”

You shrug. “Wasn’t much else to do around here. At least I got it out of my system early.”

“Mm, yeah. Think I was in love with you back then, too, though.”

A disbelieving laugh tumbles out of you. Figures. There’s a lot you’ve never managed to get right, so you aren’t surprised to have another to add to the list. Maybe the two of you would’ve been able to overcome a year or two, five at the most, but ten is… ten is a lot. Ten feels insurmountable. The Yoongi beside you is not the Yoongi you knew back then, has changed in all the same ways you have.

A spark: “You wanna get out of here?”

“And go where?” you ask.

And a flame: “Wherever you want.”

[darkfires]

whizzer my good friend whizzer and I have been talking about shame holding us back from being self-indulgent so I wrote whilst thinking about me and lilia. in a sappy way. unedited idc about accuracy I have an essay to write right after this

someone like me, who's already experienced so much of my world, who's dedicated their life to understanding its history and culture and form, being torn out of it and sent to a completely different dimension where I know nothing. nothing! and I'm stuck with all this useless information on religion and war and language and monarchy that means nothing to anyone because, well, it's not their history. for all they know, I'm completely making it up.

and so the only thing I'm really good at is null and I have to teach myself thousands of years worth of new stuff when everyone around me has had a life's head start, all while I'm dealing with the horrific reality that I will likely never see my world again. I do think about how much mourning I would go through while at nrc. I've been completely removed not only from my immediate reality, but also from my culture, my history. I will never get to go back to my family home. I will never see the ocean from la rochelle again. I will never be able to read the books I love or see my favorite paintings. not even online, ever. they don't exist in this universe. a huge portion of my identity is effectively nonexistent and left up to my feeble human memory to preserve.

I and I alone am weighed down with the knowledge of an entire universe, filled with lingering questions that no one here can answer. places I will never see and things I will never learn.

it's a lot like dying.

and I just have to live with that. and what's more, no one really cares! I'm expected to just assimilate to this world without causing any problems. as if my entire reality hasn't collapsed around me, as if I don't feel like with every passing day I lose more of myself.

then there's lilia.

weighed down with the knowledge of eras long past and thousands of memories of things that don't even exist anymore. ever-curious lilia, who loves to travel, to learn and experience. lilia who would exchange stories with me, who would find my recitals of ancient wars and art movements fascinating. who would lend me stories of his own, one by one until I have a basic foundation for this weird place.

lilia! who I could talk to for hours without getting bored, who would let me go on until I run out of things to say, or until my retellings of myths and revolutions turn into personal quips. who makes me comfortable enough to believe him when he says that he doesn't mind hearing about my life back home. he likes learning more about me, actually. he finds me interesting.

lilia, who understands what it feels like to be homesick for something you can never return to. who understands how it feels to mourn. who starts to see the worst sides of me when my personal anecdotes turn to my failures, my angers, every account of how I've hurt people in ways I feel I will never rectify. all the people I will never be able to apologize to now. lilia, who reassures me that he still likes me- he's probably done worse, after all. he says it with a smile but there's something painful behind that. I tell him the same.

lilia, who's there when I want to grieve on days that would have been holidays back home. he wants to understand completely, but we both know that isn't possible.

he still tries.

lilia, who always seems to be awake at just the right hour when I'm bored and can't sleep, who's always prone to bending rules so we can do whatever. what's the headmage going to do, stop him? impossible. lilia, who wants to show me that he cares, so he starts attempting to make me food. his cooking abilities do not improve. of course, I accept every gift. I insist on returning to favor to him, at least once a week. I'm always sure to make enough so I can feed his poor children something edible.

and slowly, through exchanges of unbaked cookies and tupperwares of soup, I'm visiting him daily. lying on his bed and complaining about silly, trivial parts of my day while he sits at his computer. asking about all the weird shit in his room. feeding his kids again. he starts haunting ramshackle, hanging upside down in the halls between my classes, following me around to oh-so casually leer over me when I'm working or rest his elbow on my shoulder. one time he waits in my room for three hours to startle me when I come back. another time I start slipping condiment packets in his pocket while he's not paying attention for him to find later.

he asks me where I would take him if he got to travel in my world. I say europe. he asks why. I say because it's my home.

we hold hands, sometimes. we have our own bad thoughts and bad dreams about things we both hoped we've moved on from. unlike everything else, we don't talk about them. sometimes when I lie in his bed he lies with me. one night he makes me recount le petit prince from memory, sits in silence the entire time, and then asks if they really rereleased morbius just for it to flop a second time.

he starts holding my hand a little tighter, and wondering if it's possible to be in love, at his age and circumstance. one day he tries to kiss me and I dodge on instinct, expecting a bite. he laughs about my reflexes and kisses me anyway.

I can't understand his homesickness just like he can't understand mine. we still try.

we dye chunks of each other's hair one night and the next morning we wake up in the same bed. at some point he says he loves me like it's the most natural thing. I understand. I love him like it's breathing. it feels like the easiest thing about this world.

[seriouslysam8]

Is there any chance we can get a sneak peak at Bête Noire? Even a little one? Please?

Gosh, I haven't written to that story in forever. It's a shame because there are only two chapters left. I think I just got behind with Brumous and shoved it onto the back burner. Looking at my word document, it's probably just under halfway done. That's so sad. I really need to work on it.

Anyway, he's a sneak peek of the unedited next chapter.

Sirius woke up in a panic, his limbs tense and his arms jerking to see if he could move them. It took him a few moments to realize he was at the Potters. Had been for the past couple of days. His heart thumped in his chest. Sweat clung to his skin. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, trying to regulate his breathing. When he couldn’t, he shoved the covers off him and eased out of bed. 

As quietly as he could, keeping close to the walls, Sirius made his way downstairs and towards the back of the house. His gaze caught sight of the clock in the kitchen. It was a quarter to five in the morning. Fleamont would be up soon. He was always an early riser. 

Sirius exited the house, stepping onto the deck. The wood was icy under his bare feet, his body instantly cooling in the bitter December air. Tilting his head back, Sirius stared up at the dark sky as his limbs tensed. His gaze immediately focused on the Andromeda constellation. A dry sob escaped his lips. From what he knew, nothing terrible had happened to Andromeda when she had been kicked out of the house. There was no massive breaking point. She had just loved a Muggleborn and told to leave. 

Sirius licked his bottom lip. He refused to look away, wondering if he should tell Andromeda what had happened. It was hard enough to have the Potters see him in dirty and ripped robes smelling like piss and vomit. But they hadn’t flinched. They hugged him even. Honestly, he knew he shouldn’t have even been surprised that they had accepted him with open arms but Sirius knew the state that he had been in. 

An owl swooped through the sky. Sirius didn’t recognize it. It didn’t look like Hydra nor did it look like the Daily Prophet owls. The tawny owl stopped on the railing in front of him. Sirius took a few steps forward, his toes curling due to the cold. He could see his name written on the parchment in unfamiliar handwriting. 

His breath came out in harsh huffs as he untied the letter. His hand shook for reasons he didn’t know. He shouldn’t be petrified of a letter, but he had no idea who it was from. What if the Potters were in trouble for taking him in? What if it was someone in the Black family?

“Sirius?”

Sirius whipped around to see Fleamont standing in the doorway in his dressing gown and slippers. Two cups of steaming coffee in either hand. Fleamont preferred black coffee to start his morning and liked ending his day with a calming plain tea. 

“You’ll freeze, son,” Fleamont said, extending a mug to him. “Come keep me company.”

Sirius nodded, numbly following Fleamont back into the house. He sat down at the kitchen table, clutching the letter in his hand, as he shivered. Fleamont sat the cup in front of Sirius before he tapped his wand on Sirius’ shoulders. Warmth flooded his body. Fleamont shrugged off his dressing gown and placed it around Sirius’ shoulders. 

“Who’s the letter from?” Fleamont asked, taking a seat across from Sirius. 

Sirius swallowed. “I don’t know. I didn’t open it yet.”

“You can go ahead and read it,” Fleamont said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

Sirius nodded, his gaze dropping to the letter. He slid his thumb under the Sticking Charm and unfolded it. His eyes automatically went down to the bottom of the long letter was signed Lily Evans. Evans? What was she doing writing him?

His eyes flew back up to the top of the page, his fingers pressing tight against the parchment. 

[gemini-sensei]

Heyyy what are your thoughts on Bully!hawk and chubby!larusso!reader having an onlyfans acc together ?👉👈

Omfg that's genius anon!

@sensei-venus !!!! (Also idk a lot about onlyfans lol so bare with me here) (unedited)

They'd post a ton of pictures of them just all over each other. Their hands all over one another, hickeys all over their bodies, ass grabs, them making out. Hawk loves posting teasing pictures, like with Reader top less but his hands are holding snd covering her tits.

He also loves having photo shoots where it's just her. He loves being her personal photographer. She's laid out on the bed, slowly striping, showing off her tits or playing with a toy. When they're done taking pictures, he pounces her and they fuck.

When it comes to videos, they get rough. He loves bullying her throughout but never takes it far. He says shit like "you love it when i fuck you hard, dirty girl." He loves it and spits on her too. He also bullies the viewers for fucking watching.

"You dirty fuckers, watching me fuck my pretty girl. What's wrong with you?"

"Bet you motherfuckers are getting off right now, but you only have you hand. Meanwhile, I have real, tight pussy right here."

"Look at that," he says while fucking Reader's cunt hard from behind, holding her against his chest so the camera can see. "She's dripping down my balls, and all you fuckers have is your hand!"

Sometimes he holds the camera to get pov shots, especially when she's riding him and her tits are bouncing. He loves reaching up and pinching her nipples or slapping her tits. Also loves turning the camera on himself when he sucks on them and leaves deep purple hickeys.

Can you leave comments on onlyfans? Idk if you can but if you can, Hawk hates getting chubby chasers in their onlyfans. He's a bully, but he doesn't fetishize (?) Reader and hates when other people do it. He also is very defensive when other people write mean comments about Reader, because only he can bully her.

Her family has no idea they have the account. Hell, they don't even know she's with Hawk. They live together even though she has her own apartment. They use the spare room in their apartment for filming and photos; it's set up with lights and pretty sheets just for themnto mess up and make messy. It's also where they keep their toys, the few that they have at least.

If her family ever found out, oh boy! 👀 I think Daniel LaRusso would have a heart attack!