#somebody who’s a little less bastard

[jhdyuiee]

blossom

wildflower - part 1 .

❁ blossom : a new beginning & growth .

❁ pairing: ex!jaehyun x fem!reader

❁ tags/warnings: angst, fluff, smut!, pregnancy, unprotected sex (flashback scene), multiple positions (doggy&missionary), oral (f), squirting, kissing/making out, nipple/breast play, hair-pulling, spanking, fingering, mentions of masturbation (m), pet-names (baby&darling), down-bad and groveling jaehyun (:0), cursing, mentions of drinking, time-skips, bittersweet ending

❁ w.c: 7.9k

❁ a.n: hi! you ask and i shall deliver, part 2 of wildflower! writing this one was so challenging because i was having major writers block, which ended up delaying it's release, aghh. anyways i tried pulling through, so stick until the bittersweet end <3 ! JOLO OUT IN 2 WEEKS (obsessed with roses, like jaehyun babe who hurt yuh?!) 🥃 . anyways love you all, stay safe & jiji out 🤍

“i'll never forget how stupid in love i felt. i'll always regret how i couldn't ever tell, that you walked a little faster, left me behind.”

“kissed me with somebody else in mind. i loved you so much that i settled for less.“

“oh, you were my everything… i was your second best.”

- laufey | “second best”

jaehyun’s pov.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” i shouted as the door closed. i contemplated chasing after her, but something told me not to. how could’ve i been so fucking stupid? why did i think she would understand– no, this whole shit was impossible to understand.

i cheated and lied to her. there wasn’t going to be anything i could’ve done now to undo what i did. i did the worst thing a man could’ve done, and broke her, played with her innocent self. i could love for infinitely, but that still wouldn't have been enough to repair the damage. 

i looked down, remembering the gift she gave me right before leaving. this small gift bag held a massive weight. with trembling hands, i started unboxing it and pulled out a small velvet box.

no, this couldn’t be… now hurriedly i opened it. a silver colored ring, in the middle of the box. you fucking bastard, i thought. i really fucked up, really beyond repair.

i took the ring out. i noted the small stones around the band of the ring, my birthstone, amethyst.

my cheeks felt wet, only then did i realize i started crying. now i regret not chasing after her, spending the rest of my day apologizing to her, pleading with her. she took my happiness when she walked out that door, a part of me with her.

and for all i knew matters would only continue to get worse from here on out…

two lines.

there are two fucking lines on the stick…

“i’m pr-pregnant…” i muttered.

this couldn’t be happening, oh how i wished this was a dream— a nightmare i could wake up to right about now. but no, this is fucking reality.

well i guess that would explain why i was late and the nauseating feelings i kept having. however so i still hoped it would come out negative. it wasn’t that i didn’t want this child, it was just about whether or not i’d be up to live as a single mother.

i caressed my stomach, though still unnoticeable, how would this child be able to live? made without mutual love, and there was no denying this was a result of that night. the very same night before disaster struck.

did the birth control not work? i thought. no, impossible it’d always worked, but perhaps luck was truly never in my favor that day. it’d been about or over a month since that day and a lot has happened, my newly discovered pregnancy being one of those things.

as i walk outside my bathroom and into my bedroom, i gently sit on the edge of my bed as flashbacks of the past month flood my mind. first things first, that same week i began moving out with my shared apartment with yuna. we had a pretty heated argument, both sides equally hurt and betrayed. yet one thing i’d say we both saw eye-to-eye was how much of a scum he was. who knew a simple man would cause our friendship to fall apart.

anyhow, with that out the way i started making preparations to move out of not only that apartment but the city. luckily the move went smoothly thanks to a special someone.

mr.jeong.

it happened a day after my talk with yuna when i decided to talk to his father. i felt the need to come clean, confess to everything that went on. to my surprise, mr.jeong hadn’t yet heard of our breakup nor from his son. i expected mr.jeong to feel upset, or at least angry towards me but he didn’t. in fact he cursed at his idiotic son, sympathizing with me. the woman who entered a fake relationship and lied to him, nonetheless there was no denying mr.jeong’s genuine care and love towards me. he treated me as his family, the thought made my heart ache. i mean it was a silly thought as i’d never will become his family.

our talk lasted well around an hour before i decided to depart. i made the decision to tell mr.jeong that i’d be moving, in which he offered two things. one, to never tell that idiotic son of his where i’d gone to in case he asks. two, money.

i refused to take the money, but he insisted i take it since i’d just quit my cafe job. also adding how expensive getting a singular apartment would be for me. after much dispute… i ended up taking the money. he also added there was no need to repay him back, and that if i wanted to look at it as a i’m-sorry-for-my-idiotic-sons-foolishness recompense.

nonetheless i’m eternally grateful to mr.jeong. i mean without his help i probably wouldn't have been able to move into this apartment in a fairly quicker time as if i didn’t have the amount they asked for. once i settled in, i began job hunting.

just the other day i went in for an interview. i still awaited the call from the company, it was a publishing firm.

i plopped down onto my bed, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. who knew the year would turn out so catastrophic for me. a whirlwind of thoughts flooded my mind which eventually led me to a deep slumber. the pregnancy sure to be the cause of my tiredness.

ring. ring. ring.

my eyes slowly fluttered open, trying to find the noise of the abrupt ringing. my phone's screen lights up, vibrating against the mattress. i reached a hand towards the device, not even bothering to look at who was calling me.

“hello? is this y/n?” a woman’s voice spoke.

slightly unconscious i answer, “y-yes, may i ask who’s this.”

“ah- nice to speak to you y/n, this i’m mrs.kang and i work for the publishing firm you applied for.”

oh, now i was fully awake. “woa- hello! nice to mee-speak to you ms.kang,” i stumbled on my words.

a slight chuckle arose from the other line, “yes, well i just wanted to tell you that… you’re in! congratulations, the company has decided to hire you!”

what! no way… it has to be a dream. i pinch myself, ow. okay not a dream. “wo-wow, thank you so much! w-when can i start!”

“next monday, if that’s alright with you,” she explained. “yes! that’s fine with me,” i almost immediately replied. “that’s great, see you on monday ms.l/n!”

i bid her farewell before hanging up. wow. my life is really seemingly picking up after all the bad luck. oh but now there was the baby to think about, i still haven’t called my clinic. “it’d be best to call them now,” i muttered. and so i did, my appointment was set for thursday.

i reach back for my stomach, a faint smile appeared on my face. “my little light,” i whisper into the empty bedroom.

i was keeping my baby, it didn’t matter whether i would be a good mother or not because this child was a little gift to me sent from the heavens above. my baby, not his. “you may not have a father, but that’s okay, my little light. i’ll make sure to give you both so you’ll never feel lonely. mommy loves you so much already.”

my little light. finding my way out the deepest depths of hell, you became my light who guided me to my new beginning. and for that you’re my little light. my savior.

jaehyun’s pov.

i drove into the driveway of my father’s residence, parking before finding myself knocking at his front door. he’d called me yesterday night, urging me to see him today. i wonder what he could’ve wanted. i wasn’t in the mood to see him today or come to my childhood home where memories of her existed.

it’s been over a month since we broke up and my life has been nothing but a shit show. i stare at my left hand, the sun's light reflecting on the piece of medal around my finger. her final gift, her parting gift; the ring found it’s home on my left ring finger. i’ve never taken it off once since that day that i put it on.

i can’t even count how many nights i spent crying, drinking, and cursing myself. y/n… her name hurt to say, verbally or not. sometimes it felt as though she was still there, waiting for me at my apartment, in my car, everywhere. she haunted me everyday, even when i slept.

she never answered or responded to any of my calls or texts, assuming she blocked my number.

the door swings open, and instead of being met with ms.kim i was met with an angered man, my father. “nice to you see you too,” i said when he didn’t offer to greet me first. strange, i thought. normally he’d be chatty but today he just walked, guiding me to his office. we took a seat across from each other on the leather couches he had in there.

silence filled the office before i decided to speak up. i cleared my throat, “so what’s wrong father.”

he huffed, “you’re no son of mine jaehyun.” i furrowed my brows, no son of mine?

he must’ve noticed my confusion because he then continued. “i know what you did, what you did to her. how could you!” he spoke, his words getting louder the more he continued.

shit.

”you think i wouldn’t find out? the poor girl came to me just the other day, a mess, yet nonetheless confessed to everything that was going on between the two of you,” he continued, my eyes widening more. she came over… she was here…

i clenched my fists. “i-is she alright? did she look okay?” i trashed question after question. my mind only thinking of her. he stayed quiet, not answering any of my questions. a beat or two passed before he continued speaking, “i mean really jaehyun… lying to her just to get back with that other woman?!”

fuck, looks like he knew everything. i sucked a breath in, “i-i didn’t mean to-” he cut me off, “mean to what!?” he shouts. “to fall in love with her. to break her. for any of this to happen,” i answered. my vision was beginning to blur. i faintly hear my father, tsk, before speaking.

“get ready jaehyun.”

i looked into his eyes for the first time since we entered his office. “f-for?” i asked, a gut feeling telling me it wasn’t for anything good. “i’m passing the company to you. i’ve been meaning to for a while now, and after all this mess you got yourself in you don’t exactly deserve it but i’m not getting any younger.”

my mouth fell open, then closed. no way he was asking me to take over the company… i wasn’t in any way, shape, or form prepared. heck i was still a mess from the break up.

“and i don’t care if you’re not prepared, a mess, or whatever excuse you have to offer me, you’re gonna take over and that’s final.”

there was no point arguing, when my father made a decision it was final. “alright,” i said, throwing my head back against the couch.

i hear as he gets up, resting my head back up. he pauses for a moment when he grabs the doorknob, turning to face me.

“and to answer your questions from earlier, she’s gone. y/n left jaehyun, she’s not coming back so you should give up. i mean it’s not like she’s going to take you back after everything you put her through.”

my heart dropped, my eyes blurring again. she-she’s gone? y/n, my y/n? no, no… this wasn’t supposed to happen. and so before i could further inquiry my father any further, he opened the door and walked out.

he left me all alone in his office space, me and my thoughts. my gaze drops down to the ring, where a single tear drop landed.

7 months later.

“ow,” you muttered. you bring a hand to your stomach, feeling the tiny kicks of the little human inside you. “i might as well sign you up for soccer,” i say, feeling another kick that causes me to chuckle. perhaps that was my sign that my little light was up for playing the sport.

for the past 7 months since i found out i was pregnant it’s been… a lot. it was hard being alone, but as time quickly passed i started getting the hang of it. i wished i had someone to go to, but my parents were long gone. i never really had a family to call my own, except now for this little human.

ever since my stomach started showing i’ve been working at home, the company was surprisingly pretty insistent about taking a maternity leave, but i still needed a way to make money. the workload wasn’t a lot, in fact i was only assigned with editing reports. nonetheless the pay was still great.

in fact, next month was going to be my last month working as the date for my birth approached, i needed to take the time off. in the 7 months too, my memory and thoughts of him dissipated. i was doing better, i could feel it. it wasn’t just for me, but for my baby too. i didn’t want my child to be upset with me.

as i got up to go use the restroom i heard the faint ringtone of my phone. i sighed as i looked at the caller id. “and what do i owe you the pleasure of, jungwoo?”

kim jungwoo. my co-worker and newly found best friend. he was the only one by my side and the only one i’ve spoken to about everything that’s happened. shock would be an understatement of his reaction, but nevertheless he still stuck by my side… annoyingly so.

“is that really a way to greet your bestest friend!? i’m very offended y/l/n, after all that trouble of going to get you those midnight cravings,” he says, falsely sobbing into the phone. though he couldn’t see, i rolled my eyes. this guy, i swear.

“oh my, i’m sorry your majesty. please forgive my behavior just now,” i replied. “you are forgiven,” he says back. “but… really jungwoo, why’d you call?”

“nothing much, just… open the door and you’ll find out,” he says. i do as he instructed, slowly walking to my door.

you open it, revealing jungwoo with a carry-out bag in hand. was it unusual to say you developed a keen sense of smell since your pregnancy? well because it smelled like he brought over fried chicken.

“uhm… can you maybe drool later, and let me in now so we could dig in,” he says, standing frozen. i snap out of my hungry state, moving aside to let him in.

we walk to my dining table, sitting across from one another. jungwoo does all the unpacking whilst i watch with prying eyes as he takes the food out and opens it. “dig in,” he announces. i wasted no time, grabbing the chicken and stuffing it into my mouth. i let out a satisfied groan, the chicken tasting so damn good.

you being too engulfed with that damn delicious fried chicken, failed to notice as jungwoo turns on the television. “come back before i finish everything,” you warn him. he lets go of the remote, stopping at some random channel. well the television was the least of your worries right now.

“how’s she doing,” jungwoo speaks up, eyeing my stomach. “i’m thinking of signing her up for soccer when she’s straight out of the womb, little girl can kick,” i replied, earning me a laugh from jungwoo.

a couple months back, my doctor told me the gender of my little light. a girl, my baby girl. i didn’t partially care what the gender was going to be, but nonetheless i was still ecstatic about the revelation. having a baby girl meant i would be able to dress her up, so cute like a little doll.

“jeong jaehyun.”

i whip my head to the television at the mention of that name. my eyes widened, dropping the food from my hand.

“n corps newest ceo is the first to accomplish acquiring various kinds of subsidiaries in such a short amount of time– ranging from luxury brands to flower shops,” the female reporter says as they display a picture of the man.

i squint my eyes, focusing them solely on his left hand. i hoped my eyes weren’t deceiving me because… is that the ring i gave him. no… no, my mind and eyes had to have been playing tricks on me because why on earth would he wear, better yet still have the ring.

“is that him,” jungwoo speaks up, interrupting my thoughts. i turn back around, my mood suddenly plummeting. i don't say anything, just nodding my head to indicate that the man who just appeared was the same man i spoke of.

and so for the rest of dinner we ate in silence, minor talk appearing but jungwoo would always be the one initiating it. i was too lost, going down a rabbit hole about him.

when we finished eating, jungwoo insisted on cleaning up– he even took the garbage with him as he left. i walked him to my door, bidding him goodbye. when he was gone, i headed to the bathroom, a shower was very much needed.

plopping onto my bed, i stare at the ceiling. my thoughts on, jaehyun. a familiar ache appeared in my heart, i thought i was over him but it seems i might be far from it. “i guess mommy isn’t all that strong, huh little one,” i whisper as i reach my hands over my stomach.

you’re not sure what came over you that night, that news report igniting your lost feelings. and so in the midst of your thoughts, you somehow drifted off into a deep slumber.

an interesting one, per say. not only for you but for the other party involved as well…

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

jaehyun crashes his lips to mine, eloping me into a deep and passionate kiss. his tongue slides along my bottom lip, begging for entry in which i grant him.

our tongues fighting one another, and teeth occasionally clashing. my mind began to fog, but i refused to stop. i could feel his love with every kiss.

“strip,” he says in a sultry tone. i felt the air getting hot.

grabbing the hem of my top, i pulled it over my head, and then followed my shorts. i left myself in my lace panties and bra, jaehyun licking his lips in delight.

reaching his hand over, he gropes my tits which earned him a breathy moan of his name.

reaching his hands to the back, he swiftly unhooks my bra, letting it fall beneath me. he groans, admiring the way my tits were on full display. “so fucking beautiful,” he says, taking his mouth over one of my nipples.

he sucks on it, and eventually bites down on the bud. i bite my bottom lip, not wanting to yell out loud.

i look down at him, his eyes staring back at mine as he practically makes out with one of my tits. i could feel one of his hands slides down my back at a slow pace, leaving a burning trail behind.

“you want me to touch you, baby?” he asks as he fondles your ass, sending a small slap across the flesh of skin. “y-yes,” you moan.

“tell me baby, where.” his voice so deep, his head coming up to peck my lips. i nearly melted, “yo-you know.” i take an unoccupied hand of his to my sex, making him palm it. “my pussy needs you,” i whisper as i leaned into his ear.

jaehyun’s lips twitch up, kissing you hard one last time before he begins to go down on his knees. he places his hands to the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs. “open up for me,” he says, and i begin opening my legs up. he drags his fingers to collect the slick that began dripping down my thigh.

kiss after kiss, bite after bite along my thighs. reaching a hand to his hair, i grip it. and when he finally reaches my cunt, i become a whimpering mess. his hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as his tongue darted out.

a slow tantalizing lick, and then another. i jerk my hips forward, wanting more friction. i feel as jaehyun stops his licks. “don’t move, or else i won’t let you cum darling.” his warning was clear, i stayed still.

and so he continues, but instead of licks he sucks on my clit. along with using the tip of his tongue to tease the poor bud, before finishing off with a bite. “j-jaehyun!” i yelled when i felt his teeth on my clit.

letting go with a pop, i watch as he licks his lips before diving back in. his licks faster than when he first started, and before i knew it he brought his fingers into the mix. one of his fingers entering you, then two, both knuckle deep inside you. it wasn’t until after he pecked your clit that he began thrusting them inside you.

in and out, out and in. your gummy walls clenching around his digits as they quickly thrusted into you. you feel the stretch of your walls as he opens them, like scissors. the constant chant of his name was such a melody to his ears, urging him to do more.

you felt yourself getting closer to your release as he continued his ministrations on your pussy. he must’ve felt the way you clenched around his fingers, “close?” he asks. “y-yes, m-my cl-clit!”

jaehyun got the message as he attached his mouth onto your clit. with both his mouth and hands working themselves on you at the same time, it felt like you could cum at any moment. with one suck to your clit and his fingers plummeting in you, you gushed out. a stream of liquid coming out of you, splattering all over his arm. it wasn’t the first time you’ve squirted but nonetheless you still felt shy, hot all over.

jaehyun gets back up, watching you as you watched him lick your essence off his arm and hand. “so delicious, a delicacy that you are baby.”

you could almost cum again from those simple words. as you try regaining your breath jaehyun brings his lips to your ear. “on the bed, all fours,” he whispers. a shiver runs down your spine, his sex-dazed voice was one of your favorite things in the whole world.

without wasting another second you head towards his bedroom, onto his bed with hands and knees on the mattress. your ass up, on full display. slap. you jerk forward from the sudden movement.

and another one on the other cheek. you turn your head around, a naked jaehyun behind you in all his glory. his hard, thick cock reaching his stomach. you could see the glisten of his pre-cum. you feel his hardened member rub against your slit, both your essences blending with one another.

then he places a hand on your hips, while the other holds his cock so he could slide it into your aching hole. his cock slowly stretches you out, walls wrapping snuggly around it. you could hear jaehyun’s groans the deeper he goes in. when he’s all in, he kisses your exposed nape before going absolutely mad.

jaehyun was an absolute madman when it came to having sex. when he was balls deep inside you, he felt like he’d gone into another dimension; another world. you are quite literally the most perfect thing in this world, you were made for him.

your mouth falls into an ‘o’ shape when you feel his tip kissing your womb, tongue hanging out when he grabs some of your hair to pull you against his chest. you didn’t know if it was even possible for his dick to reach you even deeper, but it must’ve because this angle allowed for him to reach places that have never been touched before.

it wasn’t long before you ended up cumming on his cock, jaehyun following suit after a couple more thrusts. feeding your womb his seeds, which eventually dripped out of you as slides his cock out. you slump onto the mattress, too tired, body giving up.

on the other hand, there was something so hot about watching his cum drip out of your pussy. it turned him on, his cock beginning to harden again. his hands reached your body, turning you the other way so your back was against the mattress. you looked so fucked, he loved it.

“ready for round two?” he says, not even waiting for your answer before he intrudes back into your hole. fucking his cum back into your pussy. his hands, finding yours as he interlocks his fingers with yours. your watery eyes, low chants of his name, the clenching of your walls and fingers, the way your mouth falls open, and your tongue lolling out. fuck. it was the perfect sight.

“god, i love you,” jaehyun groans as he thrusted into you.

there was no stopping him now, he was going at an insane pace. the sounds of skin slapping, his balls on your ass, and the squelching sounds of you both echoed in the room.

letting go of one of the interlaced fingers, he brings his hand to your clit. the poor swollen bud victim to his ministrations again. he used his thumb to rub the bundle of nerves, you clench tighter around him. your own orgasm not too far away.

“k-kiss me!” you yelled. jaehyun wasted no time bringing his lips onto yours. it was sloppy but you didn’t care, you loved the way it felt.

you moaned into the kiss, as you finally came for the third time tonight. taking his lips from your mouth, he puts them on an exposed section of your neck, sucking on it as he came.

filling you up for a second time tonight, you felt the warmth inside your womb. you wondered whether you could get pregnant after tonight. having his babies, becoming parents, getting married— a dream.

both of you crash onto his bed, not bothering to clean up for now. both too tied, and unable to get up. he kisses your hair, whispering sweet nothings and lulls you to sleep. you and jaehyun peacefully sleeping in each other’s arms for the night.

jaehyun’s pov.

fuck. what the fuck.

jaehyun jumps up from his bed. too shocked, unable to comprehend what just happened. he doesn’t mutter anything, he just goes into his bathroom and turns on the shower.

stepping into the cold water, he faces the tile walls. his throbbing erection the least of his worries right now.

“wh-why… why did i have a dream about that night, the night before we-we-“ he mutters, the water dripping down his body.

jaehyun didn’t know why he dreamt about you, the steamy night that unfolded a week prior to the break-up.

yeah, he’d get off to past memories of you but never a full on dream. he didn’t know what to do, to think, to say, to anything.

and he couldn’t even being himself to sleep again, so he showered in the cold. it’s been 7 months, the pain still not gone. he misses you tremendously every single day.

he stares at the ring that still stayed on his finger, clenching his hand as he wants to punch the wall in front of him.

“y/n…”

2 months later.

december 14. the day my little star was born.

she was born healthy, no complications. and luckily i was fine as well. it was excruciating pain but knowing she was close to being brought into this world made such pain disappear.

in fact, today we were scheduled to leave and i couldn’t wait to just go home. my home wouldn’t feel so empty anymore, the thought made me smile.

d/n (daughter name) was currently being breastfed, her eyes shut and wrapped like a burrito. she was the most beautiful baby, though she does look quite a lot like her daddy.

i sigh, throwing my head against the pillow. and before i could fully relax after various sleepless nights, there was a knock to my hospital door. the knock causing me to jerk my head towards the door.

“come in,” i said loud enough so the person on the other side could hear, and low enough so it wouldn’t frighten my baby as she was fast asleep.

i thought it was just some nurse coming in to check in before i left but it wasn’t, far from it. my eyes widened. the person also stopping in their trace when they noticed me.

“y/n…” the feminine voice speaks.

my mouth falls open, “m-ms.kim?!”

what was she doing here? why- wait… kim jungwoo, kim… oh my god. the pieces clicked together, she was the person jungwoo promised to call.

just last night jungwoo called me, apologizing over and over again for being unable to take me back home. i do remember him telling me that he’d find someone else, but… who knew it’d be his mother, ms.kim!

we both stayed frozen. neither speaking, you could probably even hear our breaths. however, the cries of a baby erupted into the room. the cries bringing us back to reality.

i look at d/n, swaying her gently in my arms. her wails didn’t stop though. “c-can i?” ms.kim asks. i look up, nodding my head, handing her my daughter. it was almost intriguing how fast d/n calmed down, falling back asleep in ms.kim’s arms. she takes a closer look at the baby in her arms, “she’s adorable, such chubby cheeks.”

i admire the scene in front of me, when was the last time i saw her? i thought. does she still work for them? countless questions wondered in my head until she spoke again. “she looks just like him,” she says softly. i almost froze, eyes widening. i never told her who the father was, but then again my baby does look a lot like her dad. then considering ms.kim had been with the jeong’s since he was born, she must’ve seen how he looked as a baby.

“d-does she,” i say at a loss. she nods, “i’ve been with them since he was still in the womb, and watched him grow, so i can guarantee you they’re daughter and father.” when i didn’t speak she spoke again, “i probably shouldn’t be bringing him up… i- mr.jeong told me. he explained to me what happened when i asked why you weren’t coming over anymore, and well… i’m sorry.”

wait… why- why is she apologizing. i stopped her immediately, “n-no, you-you have nothing to do with what happened, why are you apologizing?!”

“i raised him after,” she answered. i shook my head, “no, please don’t apologize. you and mr.jeong played no part in what unraveled between me and him, nor do or will i blame either of you.”

she faintly smiles, “you’re too kind, y/n. in all honesty, i thought i would never see you again but yet here you are, you even befriended my son.” i giggled a little at the thought of jungwoo, “he sure is something else, but i’ll be eternally grateful to him.”

we continued our conversation for a while longer before a nurse came in to give me the okay to leave today. i did and completed the necessary things so i could go home, ms.kim helped me. and after a couple hours we were finally out of the hospital with d/n in the car seat ms.kim brought along. she said jungwoo got it for me, as a congrats-on-giving-birth gift.

ms.kim drove, while i stayed in the back with d/n, arriving at my home a while later. we spent the rest of the evening there, ms.kim preparing dinner. whilst she was doing that, jungwoo got off work and came over. he was overly excited to see d/n, shunning me and his own mother out.

when the food was ready, i put a sleeping d/n in the crib i placed in the living room. then i headed back to the dining table, sitting down and for the first time enjoying a homely meal. it was so good, i started crying. when was the last time i felt at peace? when i felt complete? jungwoo nor ms.kim said anything, letting me have a moment.

my home was finally warm and cozy, my new life begun today. my little light radiating throughout my- our home.

4 months later.

i sighed, pushing the stroller of my 4 month-old child along the park. the cold winter weather was gone, and the flowers were in full bloom again. we came for a stroll at our local park, i was in need of a refresher.

it’s been a month since i began working again, and things were going great until a couple days ago when i was informed of a new task. the ol’ mighty task being… interviewing… jeong jaehyun. with the rise of n corps, my company was in desperation to get an interview with him. and if matters couldn’t get any worse, our main interviewer broke their leg a couple days ago, so they decided to assign me with the job. well, they gave me until the end of the week to decide whether i was up for it but… come on, me?!

no way, there was no way i was going to-

“y/n?” a voice shouts. the voice sounding familiar, i turn around without any second thoughts. though now i wished i hadn’t turned around at all, that i had simply ignored the call of my name.

i froze. “j-jaehyun,” i said in a voice that was only loud enough for him to hear. what was he doing here… he shouldn’t be here… no… no wh- “it really is you…” he says, interrupting my thoughts. he walks closer, my eyes beginning to blur. “baby,” he says gently. my stomach churns, in a bad way at the use of the word.

“d-don’t ca-call me t-that!” i say, my voice distorted. i was probably trembling as he walked closer. he stopped in his tracks when the cries of a baby erupted.

shit.

he stops, his eyes focusing from me to the strolling behind me. i instinctively blocked her, hiding her from his view even though it was too late now.

it seems it didn't take long for jaehyun to connect two-and-two together. “i-is that my- our child,” he says in an astonished tone. at least he wasn’t such an idiot, i’ll give him that.

i shook my head, “no, you’re wrong. she’s mine, she doesn’t need you.” i wasn’t going to deny that he was the dad but that didn’t mean i’d consider him as her father.

jaehyun drops to his knees in front of me. his sobs getting louder as he cried. my heart ached at the sight, but then remembered why we were even here in the first place. i turn back, my grip tightening around the stroller’s handles.

i begin walking away, stopping briefly. “you should’ve moved on the day i left the hotel. we are strangers jaehyun, remember that.” he looks up, tears staining his face. i noticed a shine from his finger, it came from the ring around his left hand. i immediately identified it as the ring i had gotten him for his birthday. 

“w-will i truly never see you again, see her again,” he says, trying to regain his composure. i don’t reply back, leaving him in that park.

on the walk home i made up my mind… i was going through with the interview.

✧˖°ʚ ❁ ɞ♡

i was sat, waiting for jaehyun to arrive. our meeting location was chosen to be at a restaurant, where we were designated with our own room for privacy reasons. honestly, i could care less about the interview. 3 days had passed since our reunion, and i felt that there was still much left to be discussed, so what better way than to talk about it here.

the door slid open, jaehyun stiffened. his mouth falling open, “w-what-” i interrupted him before he could continue. “surprise,” i sarcastically said. he looked out to check if he was in the right room, only to be reassured he was. jaehyun sits down, his head down, not daring to look up. i could tell he was keeping his guard up around me.

i softly sighed, “the person who was set to interview you, broke their leg so they put me as their replacement.” i felt it was only right to explain the situation since i’m sure he was wondering what i was doing here.

when he stayed quiet i continued, “and for the record i accepted it only because i felt that we needed to have a deep talk about everything. let’s put aside the interview for now jaehyun.”

he finally looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “w-where is she?” he asks, stumbling on his words. “she? oh! d/n is with ms.kim. you probably don’t know but ms.kim offered to look after her while i worked,” i explained. it was the truth, ms.kim, since the time i began working again took care of d/n. she argued she’d find a way around working with mr.jeong and babysitting.

however it seems jaehyun was oblivious to this. “m-ms.kim,” he whispers, in which i respond with a nod. “that’s where she’d gone,” he continued. “what do you mean?” i asked.

“well, my father briefly explained that she’d gotten a job somewhere else so she wouldn’t be able to work from certain hours,” he answered. so that’s what she told them, i thought. “mmm, speaking of your father… how is he?”

“i guess he’s alright. the old man and me aren’t doing so well, so it’s hard to say…” he says, stopping briefly to take a sip of his water that was placed there by the waiter before he even arrived. “ever since you left, he got pretty upset with me. he forced me into the family company, didn’t even wanna consider me his son. i mean it didn’t matter to me, i deserved it after all.”

i stayed quiet, not knowing what to say at his revelation. “s-so, tell me about her. please, y/n,” jaehyun pleads. i give it some thought before sighing.

“her name is d/l/n. she was born on december 14th. i found out i was pregnant around a month after that day. she was all i had left so i decided to keep her. and god was that the best decision i’ve ever made. yeah, those 9 months were sometimes hell, but i managed. i was scared of being a single mother, but hey look at where i am today,” i explained. his features softened as i continued explaining my past year.

and when i finished he asked, “won’t you let me see her?” i ponder, “i wish, i want to… but, i-i’m not sure if i can trust you yet jaehyun.” “and why is that?” he asks. “b-because of what you did. you broke me completely, crushed up all faith and trust i had for you.”

“t-then give me a second chance,” jaehyun declares. you look at him astonished at his declaration. “w-what do you mean?”

“give me a second chance to prove to you and d/n i can be trusted. i’ll make up for lost time, i’ll love her triple, no infinitely more. please, just please… we don’t even have to go into it thinking we might get together, i-i just want to see my baby girl.”

his voice was getting weaker, practically pleading with me. a second chance, huh. i took my time to think about it, would letting him into out lives be the right choice? i was gambling here, but nonetheless i made my decision.

“f-fine. you better prove yourself worth forgiving, jeong jaehyun.” his face almost lit up, “th-thank you! i most definitely will, i’ll prove to you both. i won’t make the same foolish mistakes. i’ll love d/n, i’ll love you,” he says. i’ll love you. the phrase brought something out of me, touched my heart per say. 

and so after an overdue talk, we cleared up our misunderstandings. we agreed on co-parenting, among other things. the interview then proceeded as planned, and once that was out the way he drove me home. i offered to invite him in, in which he gladly accepted.

ms.kim was shocked to see him show up, confused even but i briefly told her i’d explain it later. d/n was awake, and when i introduced her to jaehyun it was like the most sentimental scene. he cried, heck i probably did too. even more shockingly, d/n warmed up to jaehyun faster than i expected.

it felt like we’d finally become a family, like we could finally live happily ever after. and although i knew the journey was far from being over, i was willing to test the waters. if in the near future jaehyun and i ever get together then we get together, and if we don’t then we don’t.

whatever the future had in store for us, we’d face it once it came. but until then this new life that has bloomed for us like the flowers, will be lived with one another by each other's side.

“you’re my dandelion.”

© jhdyuiee

2024. 08. 18

final a.n: woohoo, we're at the end! writing part 2 like i mentioned was a hassle since i was having writers block, worst feeling ever! on top of that i started school again :(( . not the best couple of weeks but i managed to get this done in a week, nevertheless i really hope you all can enjoy it. thank you for your continued love and support, i truly cannot thank you enough for everything! that being said, i will be taking this upcoming week off, and will hopefully be back to uploading for the last week of august. i love you all berry much! please look forward to jaehyun's solo, JOLO, on august 26! thank you&i love you, jiji signing off 🤍

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 1 ◇ Part 2

Warnings: none except mentions of readers past traumas, mention of sexual objectification.

Content: osamu x reader, Angst (to fluff in the next chapters), hurt no comfort.

A/n: it's my first long-fic, please be nice :)

You're not used to being loved.

Your parents were always strict, hardly ever showing their affection, you didn't even have any close friends until you started working, where you found your best friend who showed you the blessings of a platonic love; but time passes and things happen, you had to move out of the town, leave your one true friend behind.

You are not used to love but especially romantic love, because all men did was see you as the object of their sexual desires, or maybe a good time-pass until a better one came along. Never as a person with feelings, never as a woman who loved them more than they loved her.

Sometimes you were too much, sometimes you weren't enough.

Too affectionate, too clingy, too dramatic, too loud. Not pretty enough, not smart enough, not horny enough. You tried and tried to be more, to be less, to be loved, but despite your efforts, love remained elusive, even with women.

So, after years of hoping and yearning, you resigned yourself to a loveless existence.

It is not to say that you never felt happy; even if you didn’t have love, you had fun and drama, you had friends to drink with (accompanied by the ting of pain the day after), you had a lot of books to read (leaving a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you finished one), you had dates and clothes and all the good and beautiful things in life and you've learned to appreciate these fragments of happiness.

But sometimes you get lonely.

You are used to it at this point, the crushing weight in your chest at 11 PM is your daily ritual before you finally give in to sleep.

So when you see Osamu Miya’s warm smile as he greets you in his restaurant, you battle to stop your stupid crazed heart, which is currently trying to jump out of your mouth.

You are just a client, his smile doesn’t mean anything, he is only doing his job, and you have seen him give the same smile to the old ladies who only order a coffee and linger to chatter for more than two hours, too. He’s a professional, after all. You are a regular and all he wants is your money, the bastard.

(you completely ignore the fact that he remembers details about you that no one bothers to remember; like the colour of your jewellery, the names of the dogs in your shelter or how your eyeliner is a little glittered today.)

Still, you are glad you got to know him. If anything, at least he is a good friend to you, always listening to what you have to say and filling your stomach with delicious food.

“ ‘Evening, Y/N. The usual?” He asks. You nod as you sit on the corner of the counter, the same seat you sat on the first day you came in.

(Osamu puts a “Reserved” sign on it every day until your arrival, not letting anyone else sit on it because it’s yours. But you don’t need to know that.)

You chatter with Tsumoto, the part-timer student who works in his shop, about his new crush, giving him advice you wouldn’t listen to nor follow from somebody else, and just as you are about to tell him that he should just write love letters to his crush, the doorbell rings; a pretty girl with dark long hair and the body of a goddess walks in, looking around for something, or better, for someone.

“‘Samuuu!” she calls him just as he comes out of the kitchen, and his face lights up, his arms envelop her figure and her lips meet his cheeks in an affectionate gesture.

… what?

“Emi! How are you, doll?” his voice holds tenderness as he guides the girl to one of the seats available, “Have a seat, I'll fix something up for you.”

She is a beautiful girl indeed, her hair flutters in the air like sea waves and her deep green eyes would make any man weak in his knees. She graces him with a smile, her flawless teeth gleaming.“A coffee is enough ‘Samu, I’m going to meet a friend soon.”

“Roger that!” he nods, signaling to Tsumoto for the order, before returning his attention to her.

He looks happy, you don’t think he has ever looked at you with this much fondness, and you’ve never witnessed any girl embrace him, let alone kiss his cheek. Hell, you didn’t even know if he had any female friends who were not his friends’s girlfriends.

(You feel your vision blur and something clenches in your chest. You swallow it down.)

You have no idea what they are talking about, you are not listening, all you can think about is how much you feel so so stupid. You didn’t hope for anything, you tried not to hope for anything at all, but feelings are hard to get rid of, especially if you see the one causing these feelings every week.

You look at them talking like best friends who haven’t seen each other for a long time and the feeling of inadequacy gnaws at you. You wonder if you ever even stood a chance to begin with. You yearned to be someone close to Osamu, someone who could give him hugs and kisses easily, someone who knew everything about him; you yearned to be part of his inner circle, but now you feel utterly stupid and delusional. Of course, he would never see you in that light, his affection is reserved only for a pretty girl like her. Of course he wouldn’t even think about getting physical with you. What were you even thinking?

Of course, you can’t be part of his world.

Reblogs are really appreciated! - Part 2

[simplyender]

yo, buddy, this is a fun poll. you can uplift your fave without having to insult anyone.

[thebest-medicine]

TheBest-Medicine’s Spectacular Summer

Sentence Starter TickleFic Prompts:

Please feel free to send in ideas / fandoms / pairings / prompts including these or use them yourself as some inspiration for some writing or art! honestly I wanted an excuse and some guidance to write out some more tickle fic ideas I’ve been having lately. So anyway here’s 105 fic starters / prompts (somebody stop me).

“Was that a giggle just now?”

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?

“Come any closer and I will end you.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have done that..” / “Oh, you shouldn’t have said that..”

“No, I’m just- uh- sensitive.”

“You think you’re real tough, huh?”

“No way, you’re ticklish here too?”

“I’ll have you know, I was the reigning tickle fight champion in my house growing up.”

“Did you just… laugh?”

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why are you so nervous all of the sudden?”

“So, what’s this I hear about you being deathly ticklish?”

“I don’t / can’t believe it.”

“Well, well, well… Look what we have here.”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Come on, stop it - I’m serious, that really tickles!”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about?”

“I swear on my life, I will kill you.”

“Wait, are you stuck?”

“I will never forgive you for this, you bastard / jerk / dick / asshole / expletive.”

“Big talk for someone so ticklish.”

“Don’t make me make you.”

“Wait a minute, you’re not ticklish, are you?”

“Sounds like someone needs a visit from the tickle monster.”

“Well now you’re just asking for it.”

“Wow. You’re bold.”

“I hope you know that this means war.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you?”

“Be careful, I’m ticklish (there).”

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad, is it?”

“Who would have thought a few tickles would be your doom?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re in for it as soon as we’re alone.”

“What? Me? Ticklish? As if!”

“A little birdie told me someone has ticklish feet / sides / knees / etc.”

“Wait - no, not that, anything but that!”

“You can’t be serious…”

“What did you just say?”

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that before, it’s nice.”

“I never thought I’d see the day…”

“No way, are you crying / begging?”

“Lighten up, have a laugh!”

“You wouldn’t take advantage (of that knowledge) when I’m stuck like this, right? …Right?!”

“Heh. That all you’ve got?”

“I’m not letting you off that easy.”

“Make me.”

“You would think you’d get less ticklish as you got older, but you’re the opposite!”

“It’s not your fault you’re so ticklish.”

“Please, I can’t take it anymore!”

“Oh you’d like / love that, wouldn’t you?”

“What about (name), (are they) ticklish?” “Huh? What - me?!”

“Hmm, looks like the tables have turned…”

“Oh man, is this a bad spot?”

“Please! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“I never would’ve pegged you as the ticklish type.”

“You better not tell anyone about this.”

“I can think of a few ways to make you talk.”

“Why so nervous?”

“Don’t- don’t you dare! Don’t even t-think about it!”

“You’d better keep quiet.”

“I haven’t seen you smile all day / week!”

“Too bad there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Relax, I’m not gonna kill ya. But I am gonna make you wish you were dead.”

“I just wanna be close to you.”

“Don’t tell me you’re ticklish?!”

“Well now, that seems like wishful thinking.”

“What’s that? Stop saying tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle?”

“You have five seconds to run.”

“Wait, not there - anywhere but there!”

“This isn’t cuddling! This is an attack!”

“As soon as I get out of this I hope you know I’m going to murder you.”

“I hope you’re not too ticklish.”

“Oh man, that looks bad.”

“Uh, oh. Someone’s ticklish.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding this all this time?!”

“There’s nowhere to hide.”

“Aww, are you blushing? That’s adorable.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“You should know better than to try to keep secrets from me.”

“What did I just say!?”

“You’re not really gonna tickle me, are you?”

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“You’d better give up now or this is about to get a lot worse.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

“Crap. Wait. I didn’t mean that.”

“…That was brutal.”

“We don’t have time for such childish— hey! Stop it!”

“Wait no- Not here- Not now!”

“Just wait until I get you back.”

“Have mercy!”

“Hey are you guys okay? I heard yelling (from the hall / outside) and— oh.”

“Oh? And what if I did?”

“Revenge is so, so sweet.”

“You can’t be serious!?”

“What are you so scared of? It’s just a feather / brush / etc.”

“Oh, sorry, did that tickle?”

“There it is! That laugh is music to my ears.”

“Don’t make me get your (worst spot).”

“Would you just shut up and tickle me already?”

“You’re in for it now!”

“You are so going to regret that.”

“Let’s make it interesting.”

“What, did you think you were just going to get away with that?”

“Hey, a bet’s a bet.”

[suzukiblu]

Tim’s my blorbo so I’ll always take more Tim content

Apparently Cadmus knew Experiment Thirteen was the one to invest in because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark.

Apparently Cadmus also considered terminating Experiment Thirteen because Experiment Thirteen had a soulmark.

Tim knows this because he broke into the place and stole a copy of Superboy's file the day after they met.

He also knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like, because these absolute bastards not only took multiple pictures of it, they put those pictures in his fucking file. Not even, like, classified or tucked away behind a firewall or a password or anything. Not even in a seperate folder. Just right there in his standard file where literally any random scientist or doctor or goddamn intern could trip right over them without even meaning to.

Forget the fucking mind control; that's fucked up.

So yeah. Tim knows what Superboy's soulmark looks like. It's a stark, dark red, all sharp angles slung low in the V of his Adonis belt and cutting from one hip to the other, looking not unlike a stylized bird in flight coming at the viewer head-on. Bold. Undeniable. Very much like Superboy himself, really.

And exactly like the mark that came in on Tim when, he now knows, Superboy was first put together in a fucking petri dish. So that's . . . a whole thing, there.

Well. At least his soulmate is only literally fifteen years younger than him, not physically and mentally.

Although that doesn't really seem like a big improvement, to be honest.

Tim didn't even know he was into guys, actually? Definitely didn't know Superboy was into guys, all things considered. Like, he would not expect somebody like him to ever be subtle about who or what he was into.

Maybe they're platonics, Tim tries to tell himself. The fact that his first thought upon learning that Superboy was his soulmate was immediately questioning his own sexuality doesn't really support that theory, though.

Though it does help explain why Poison Ivy putting her hands on the guy had pissed him off so bad.

Like. It very much does.

Tim doesn't actually know what to do about this. Bruce still thinks he doesn't even have a soulmate, due to Tim previously really, really not wanting to deal with the absolute embarrassment of admitting that said soulmate was an actual fucking baby, so Tim never got the Bat-version of the soulmate talk. Bruce'd sat him down to give it to him when he'd first become Robin, but Tim hadn't had a mark then, obviously, so they'd both just assumed he didn't have to worry about it. Tim is pretty sure Bruce had been as relieved as he had to dodge that particular bullet, really. Apparently Dick had needed visual aids and hadn't understood the "gilly talk" version. And Jason had had questions.

Lots of questions.

Creative ones.

Sometimes Tim suspects Jason might've been an asshole. Like, just a little bit of one.

So no, Tim does not blame Bruce for deciding to skip that particular talk with him, especially when they'd both thought he wasn't gonna need to know any of it anyway.

So . . . yeah. He doesn't know how he's supposed to approach this situation. Obviously telling Superboy that they're soulmates would compromise Tim's secret identity and therefore Bruce's, and everybody and their damn mother knows Superboy himself doesn't even have a secret identity so it's not like Tim can figure that out and approach him that way.

On the other hand, not telling him that they're soulmates isn't a great start to being soulmates, now is it.

Crap, Tim thinks.

Then he calls Dick, because if he has to sit through the Bat-version of the soulmate talk, at least maybe Dick will be slightly less embarrassing to hear it from.

As long as there's no visual aids involved, anyway.

"Hey, Tim," Dick greets as he picks up the phone. Tim has a carefully crafted plan of attack, of course; several, in fact. He's got all sorts of subtle ways to lead the conversation without revealing anything too damning or too specific and while keeping everything in hypotheticals. Just making the whole thing either a quick thought exercise or casual curiosity from an unmarked kid who's heard one too many soulmate stories and wants to know more. So Tim's prepared. Tim's ready.

Tim panics.

"Poison Ivy kissed my soulmate and I want to burn down her entire life," he blurts.

"Uh," Dick says. "You're . . . gonna have to catch me up a little here, baby bird. For starters, I thought you didn't have a soulmate."

"I didn't," Tim says as he starts to pace back and forth across his bedroom, because he's already screwed this up so there's no point in playing coy now. "Then some dickheads in Metropolis decided to steal Superman's dead body and make a cocky asshole with douchey shades and a leather fetish out of it."

"Ohhhhh boy," Dick says. "What'd B say?"

"I found out like half an hour ago and you're the only person I've told, so nothing yet," Tim says. "What's the Bat-protocol for finding out your soulmate is somebody in the community, exactly? Specifically somebody in douchey shades?"

"Depends," Dick says. "How'd the kid react?"

". . . I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total creep, but he doesn't know," Tim admits with a wince. "I broke into Cadmus to make a copy of his file after I met him and they just . . . had his soulmark in it. Like. There wasn't even a password. It wasn't even in an isolated folder. It was just there."

"That is the most fucked up thing I've heard since the last time I had to talk to Jervis Tetch," Dick mutters in obvious disgust. "Alright, well, how are you reacting, then?"

"My soulmate is a baby," Tim grumbles disgruntledly, dropping into his desk chair. "A baby who is also a teenager."

"Tim, you're a teenager too," Dick reminds him wryly. "You are very much so a teenager too, in fact."

"Yeah, and it sucks," Tim says emphatically. "And I have, like, actual legal guardians and a home and a trust fund. Superboy just lives somewhere in Hawaii with a sleazy businessman and his kid and some random guy from Cadmus!"

"That's, uh, actually not great," Dick says, sounding a little troubled.

"You think?!" Tim demands. "He's a baby! An infant! And he lives with his frigging manager!"

"What the actual hell," Dick says.

"Just–is it ethical to kidnap your own soulmate and does that even matter if they're not legally a person and so you couldn't actually be charged for anything anyway?" Tim mutters speculatively, drumming his fingers on his desk for a moment and then booting up his computer. "I mean, B can't get mad at me for doing it if the courts can't get me for doing it, right?"

"Wait, Superboy's not legally a person?" Dick asks incredulously.

"Nope," Tim says. "Which neither Cadmus nor the sleazebag selling his likeness for a living has in any way tried to correct, for the record. Technically he's classified as intellectual property, but Cadmus forfeited legal possession when Superman turned up alive again, presumably to avoid Superman ever finding out that they'd had said legal possession, so technically if I went and kidnapped him it'd be more like . . . salvage, maybe? Like, in the eyes of the law, I mean."

"Yeah, okay, in that case kidnapping your own soulmate might be less an ethics question and more a moral obligation," Dick says.

"Good point," Tim says, frowning consideringly as he pulls up his browser. "Do you think if I just do it as Tim Drake I can avoid compromising my identity?"

"I have no idea but if I were you I'd already be booking my flight and thinking up a cheap excuse to 'accidentally' flash a teen heartthrob superhero my soulmark anyway," Dick says.

"I am already booking my flight," Tim says mid-click of said booking. "Although, uh, flashing him our particular soulmark might require, like . . . third base, and I don't even know if he likes guys. I don't even know if he knows if he likes guys, he's like five minutes out of the cloning tube and like, I'm literally fifteen and don't know if I like guys, so why the hell would he?"

"Okay, yeah, that could be an issue," Dick says. "Hm. Wardrobe malfunction? Slutty beach day? Wet T-shirt contest?"

"I'm not above any of those options at this point, frankly," Tim grumbles, even though those ideas are all very "Nightwing" and not very "Robin". Technically he shouldn't be approaching this like Robin would anyway, because god forbid Superboy recognize his methodology.

Slutty beach day might have to be a thing, Tim realizes with resigned dread. He is really not comfortable with slutty beach day being a thing.

. . . maybe if he just gets lucky, he can catch Superboy having his own slutty beach day. Not to make any assumptions, just Tim's pretty sure if either of them were ever going to be the type to wear a speedo or low-waisted swim trunks or just walk around with their soulmark out in general . . .

Which, in Superboy's defense, well–his soulmark is already on file with Cadmus, so yeah. He might not even care if other people see it or not, considering that.

Then again, if Tim knew that a bunch of random strangers who'd wanted to mind-control him had all seen and taken pictures of his soulmark, he'd never wear anything that risked exposing it again. Like. Ever.

Possibly he'd just live and die in a wetsuit. Or coveralls. Overalls. Or just–whatever. Something like that.

. . . come to think of it, Superboy's costume is all one piece, isn't it.

Cadmus is full of assholes, Tim decides as he confirms his booking, then gets up to throw together a go-bag. He has no plan whatsoever, but whatever; it's a twelve-hour flight. He's gonna have time to think something up.

One go-through with airport security and a twelve-hour flight later, Tim has not thought anything up.

Dammit.

[aziraphales-library]

hi, i was wondering if you know any (aziraphale/crowley) enemies to friends to lovers/enemies to lovers, with the fake dating/marriage troupe fics? slow burn would also be nice but if not its okay! any rating will do, but preferably explicit!

Thank you :)

We have both #enemies to lovers and #fake dating tags, so check those out. Pretty sure most of these are on there somewhere...

The Trojan Horse Virus by Greenathena (T)

Aziraphale owns a bookshop in Soho. Crowley leases the space next door for his nursery. And their first impressions are not exactly positive. But when Crowley needs someone to pretend to be his fiance, who better than the bastard next door who already dislikes him? No feelings to mess things up means no problems, right? Right?

wasteland, baby by john1513 (M)

“Listen. Fell. I...I might, uh, have an idea.” “You do?” Aziraphale said, and hated the hopeful way he said it. “I’ll do it.” “You...won’t like it.” “Will it keep me out of prison?” “Maybe. Maybe the both of us. For now. Ideally.” “Then yes.” Crowley’s expression tightened, and Aziraphale wasn’t sure if Crowley wanted to cry, or laugh. “You really, really won’t like it.” “I’ll like prison less.” He responded plainly. Crowley’s face twisted into something soft at first, just for a second, before searing into a careful little smirk, and Aziraphale knew that smile, that Cheshire cat smile, much too well to not be cautious. “Crowley, dear. What are you doing on the floor?” He cleared his throat. “Angel. Remember when I said you wouldn’t like it? Well, uh, here we are.” His smile grew awkwardly, apologetically, and Aziraphale had a sinking feeling about it. “Angel. Will you marry me?” ----- Crowley and Aziraphale plan a fake marriage to avoid having to testify against each other in court...they get much more than they bargained for.

The blesséd language of flowers by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley has given up on her life in the big city and decided to retire early to the lovely village of Tadfield. She expected a run-off-the-mill early retirement. Maybe playing bridge with a couple of old ladies and maybe taking a part in organising some of the village fetes. What she did not expect was actually competing against the woman she had developed a crush on in the village floral competitions and hence that particular woman instantly taking a dislike to her. She also did not expect that for the sake of the village's reputation they would have to band together and participate as a couple for nationals, because why not...

Love to Hate You by Caedmon (E)

When Dr. Aziraphale Fell meets Dr. A.J. Crowley, sparks fly immediately: the wrong kind of sparks. For five and a half years, they snipe and snark at each other while secretly pining. Then, at the annual Christmas party, a drunk Crowley propositions an equally drunk Aziraphale. They slip off together - and get caught by the administrators of the hospital. To keep them out of trouble, Crowley announces that they're married... and now they have to keep up the ruse to keep their jobs.

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T)

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

The Curve of Old Bones by Jenanigans1207 (E)

Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.” Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it. -- When Crowley claims to be Aziraphale's husband to ruin what he assumes is a date, he doesn't think anything of it. But a day later it comes back to bite him in the ass when Crowley finds out that the date in question is, in fact, his new boss, who is looking to hire Aziraphale and hoping that Crowley, his husband, will put in a good word for them. Now Crowley is caught in a tight spot: either admit to his new boss that he was lying, or convince Aziraphale, his sort-of enemy, to pretend to be his husband to save face.

- Mod D

[quadrantadvisor]

Multiverse, Reverse Robins au, 2,514 words

-

Jason (Red Hood)

The imposters are good, Jason will give them that.

They need to work on their looks, unfortunately, because each one of them is a little off. Their Nightwing is too bulky, and his costume isn't made with Dick's flexibility in mind. Besides that, he's got an undercut that doesn't match the shaggy way Dick has his hair now, and his blue is too dark. And the swords. Those are different.

Their little Robin looks more like Dick, actually, Dick as he was before Jason's time, with his happy grin and his bright yellow cape. He doesn't match Damian's style at all, and Jason wonders if their intel was out of date. He tucks away his anger (the way he's used to doing, now) at these bastards roping some little kid into whatever con they're trying to pull. They can help the kid after they subdue him, and he stops trying to flip-kick people in the face.

The Red Robin outfit isn't bad, but the guy playing him is way too tall to be Tim. He doesn't use a bo staff, either, clearly preferring the armory of sharp little implements he keeps tucked away in his utility belt, including a wicked looking combat knife.

Which brings Jason to the current pain in his ass, the idiot trying to pass himself off as the Red Hood.

Yeah, they'd split off into pairs to fight. First off, for practicality's sake. Less risk of friendly fire if the only guy you're trying to punch is the one who isn't you. And secondly, it's just what you do, isn't it? Somebody gives you a set up like this, you go along with the poetic justice. No bat is immune to drama.

Jason is regretting that a bit, now. Fake Hood had taken him for a ride, leading him, he now realizes, far away from the warehouse where Nightwing and Robin had initially called in the disturbance. This other guy isn't the powerhouse that Jason is, but that doesn’t matter if Jason can't ever get in a hit. His movements are precise, deadly, and familiar in a way that makes Jason suspect League training. Jason is keeping up, but barely, and that's with the advantage of his guns. The other guy hasn't touched his, still gleaming red in his holsters, and Jason has a sneaking suspicion that they aren't filled with rubber bullets.

They're at a bit of a stalemate, standing on opposite sides of a dark rooftop, and Jason's trying to catch his breath but he can't relax, not when his gaze is locked onto his opponent, waiting for the minute twitch of muscle that will indicate his next move. He's wondering if he could get a shot off, wondering where to aim, when his comm crackles to life.

“Stand down!” Tim snaps in his ear. “Hood, Wing, the alternates aren't currently a threat. Deescalate however you can, and get back to the warehouse. We can explain this whole mess there.”

“Really?” Nightwing asks. He goes on to say something else, something about his doppleganger being incredibly threatening, thank you very much, but Jason stops listening, because there's something going on across the roof.

A mechanically distorted voice says, “What? No, I'd be able to tell. This guy isn't-” The imposter(?) cuts off suddenly, presumably listening to a response.

And then he… giggles.

“That isn't funny, Red,” he says, in contrast to the little peals of laughter making him subtly shake. “You- you get how fucked up that would be, don't you?”

Jason can't figure out what to do. Tim's intel is almost always good, but he can't get himself to stand down, not when, for some reason, that laughter is setting his teeth on fucking edge.

(He knows the reason. He'd know that cadence anywhere, he hears it in his fucking nightmares, but it isnt possible. He's in Arkham, right now, because Batman won't kill him and Jason isn't allowed to kill him and that uncomfortable truce is what got him his family back. Jason would know if he'd broken out, they wouldn't have kept that from him. They wouldn't.)

“Oh shit,” Tim says, and it makes Jason wonder how he knows, “Hood, is your alternate having some kind of fit right now?”

The sound escalates, from breathy little giggles to screeching laughter, and even with the hood's distortion, it's unmistakable.

It's the Joker's laugh.

It's the Joker.

And isn't this exactly some shit that Joker would pull, making a mockery of Jason's family, a twisted parody that fucks with his head? Tim's lying, he's trying to get Jason out of this situation, and Jason gets why, he does, but obviously the rest of them can't (won't) protect him from this, so if he has to take fate into his own hands, he will.

The green is creeping up, but Jason doesn't let it haze over his vision because he has to be in his right mind while he does this, not for them, for himself. As he stalks across the roof, he empties the clip from one of his guns and pulls out the live rounds, loads them into place.

He thinks Tim is calling for him, maybe the others, too, but the chatter over the comm is getting further away the closer he gets to his target. He should be smart, should take the shot, but maybe he's got more pit in his head than he wants to admit, because Joker, still laughing, pulls a knife, and Jason steps into his range to disarm him.

The strike is fast, but compared to the careful movements of before, he's practically telegraphing his actions. Jason sidesteps, and if the blade knicks him when he twists Joker's arm, he doesn't feel it. He's got the clown in a hold, now, and forces him to his knees with the gun against his temple.

If the hood is anything like his own, the bullet won't do it, not even at point blank range. Jason would like to get it off him, would like to see the life leave his eyes, but he doesn't have to. Jason moves the barrel beneath his chin, right where the armor ends. The pit rages inside of him, says this is too easy, says to make him suffer. Jason pushes it down. This is the compromise he'll make, this is what he'll do to try to maintain both his humanity and his peace of mind. The bullet will ricochet off the hood from the inside, will tear through Joker's brain at least twice, and he'll never come back from that, and Jason will finally be free.

It'll be easy.

This is too easy.

“Nothing to fucking say?” Jason growls, jostling the clown in his grip, because there's always some joke, some shitty twist.

The Joker just laughs.

“Unhand him this instant!” someone snaps, and Jason's finger twitches but somehow the trigger stays still. And now what's he supposed to do, because of course fucking Nightwing- but wait, that isn't- but it is, he's right there- it's both of them, two Nightwings. Fucking fantastic. Twice the guilt trip.

“Come on, Jay,” the Nightwing who's actually Dick pleads, and hey, what the fuck, codenames? In front of the fucking Joker, Dick? “Let him go, we can explain everything.”

“I'm not doing this again!” rips itself from Jason's throat, and he'll think later about just how wrecked he sounds. “I'm not just standing here and letting him go, Wing, not when one bullet can put a stop to all this, not when I can end him.”

“Jason,” Dick says, slow with forced calm, “that's not the Joker.”

“Don't you fucking lie to me!” Jason seethes.

His hand is wrenched to the side, the barrel facing open air, and before he can make a move the unfortunately familiar feeling of a high voltage shock courses through him.

By the time he's stopped seizing, Dick is at his back, supporting him with his own body and with arms under his pits and around his chest in a weird reverse hug. Technically, Jason's hands are free, but they're empty, the gun skidded to somewhere else across the roof.

Dick is murmuring into his ear, “Sorry, Little Wing, I'm so sorry,” and, “You're okay, you're okay, you're okay,” mantras meant to soothe his brother as much as himself. Jason wants to be angry, wants to snap at him to let go and fucking cut it out, but he's feeling strangely disoriented. He only has enough brainspace to pay attention to one thing, and that's the scene playing out in front of him.

Dick had clearly hauled them back a few steps, but Jason is still uncomfortably close to the bastard version of Nightwing (who, Jason realizes in hindsight, had tazed him while he'd been distracted by his brother, not cool) and the laughing maniac he should've killed. Nightwing is holding onto Joker's shoulders, his hands bouncing as the gasping, shrieking laughter continues.

“I'm going to remove your helmet now,” Nightwing says. He has a slight accent that Jason knows he's heard before, and his tone is professional, almost clipped. And yet, somehow, Jason can tell that this is a gentled version of the man's voice, the sharpest edges sanded away. His hands move from Joker's shoulders to the back of his head, carefully inputting whatever sequence allows for safe removal of the hood. Jason hears a hydraulic hiss when some sort of catch releases, and as Nightwing starts pulling the red metal up and away Jason can't help holding his breath.

At first, he sees what he expected to see. It's the Joker's expression, after all, his laughing face pulled into a rictus grin.

But the grin isn't right, somehow. The man is pale, but his face is unpainted, and the smile stretches wide, too wide, wider than even the Joker ever managed, and after a moment Jason recognizes the red, raised scar tissue on either side of his mouth for what it is.

Then, Jason takes in the actual features of the person in front of him. Dark hair, pale blue eyes, the cheeks, the jaw, the nose.

It doesn't make any fucking sense.

The Red Hood, collapsed on his knees in front of him, scarred face bare with no hood or domino to protect him as he struggles under the weight of his own laughter, is Tim Drake.

He's crying.

Jason is suddenly glad that Dick's holding him, because he's certain that he'd be on the ground, otherwise. Then, he realizes that he can't breathe.

Jason knows, logically, that his hood has sensors and filters that keep him safer than he could ever be without it. It is only every once in a while, when something stupid happens, that he regrets that he, a man with claustrophobia, decided to stick his head into a metal bucket.

Dick can probably tell that he's hyperventilating, and doesn't fight him as Jason gets his hands on the back of his neck and pulls off his hood.

Jason gasps in polluted Gotham air, and Tim's eyes snap onto him. Nightwing says, “I'm administering the emergency dose of your medication,” and then stalls, like he's waiting for a response, but all Tim does is laugh and stare. Jason stares back. He can't look away.

Nightwing retrieves a small tubular device, almost like an epipen, and presses it against Tim's leg. That shouldn't work. Tim's wearing body armor, same as the rest of them, and there's no way a needle could pierce it, but Jason looks as Nightwing draws the device away and there's a small raised circle of hard plastic on Tim's thigh that the head of the device fits into perfectly, like it was designed for that purpose. An injection spot, built into Tim's clothing, specifically for whatever drugs fake Nightwing just pumped into him.

Immediately, there's a difference. He doesn't stop laughing, or smiling that horrible fucking smile, but the manic tension is gone. He doesn't look like he'll shatter at a touch anymore, too brittle to be handled. The curve of his spine gentles, muscles no longer pulling it to the point of snapping. Jason watches as slowly, oh so slowly, Tim gets quieter, leans more into Nightwing's hold on him, starts gasping more than laughing.

Dick is talking behind him, into his comm, it sounds like. If it's important, someone will get his attention.

Finally, Tim breaks eye contact. “T- tell him,” he says to Nightwing, struggling between gasps and giggles, “tell him what you, gave me. Jay doesn't, he doesn't like, needles.”

The strange Nightwing turns his head, and Jason gets the impression of a sharp, searching gaze behind his domino. He's nothing like Dick, not at all, but something niggles the back of Jason's mind, some sense of familiarity regardless. He tosses something, and Jason automatically reaches up to catch it.

It's the empty tube of medication, which does seem a lot like an epipen, up close. “It's a combination,” the man says. “The antidote for Joker venom, an antipsychotic, and a mild sedative.”

“What the fuck?” Jason hears from his own mouth as he looks down at the innocuous little tube.

“It's only used in emergencies,” Nightwing adds, and does not clarify any further.

Jason doesn't know what to say to that. He shakes himself out of Dick's hold and grabs an evidence bag out of his jacket. He watches Nightwing, to see if he'll object, but he doesn't. Jason slips the medicine tube inside the bag and tucks it away.

“There you are!” Dick says in a bright tone, one meant to cover his anxiety and relief.

Jason turns, and finds that their roof has gotten a little crowded. All four Robins have arrived, his brothers mingled in with their copies, copies who don't quite match in ways that are now sticking in his brain. Tim, Jason's Tim, is standing right there, pressing his mask against his face like he'd broken the seal on the adhesive, and it isn't sticking quite right. Other than that, he's normal. He's fine.

The Robin, the one in the classic colors who Jason had thought looked a bit like Dick (oh God, could that be-?) gives a little whistle. “Trust Red Hood to cause drama!” he says in a bright tone that is too too familiar (fuck, fuck he is). “Must be a universal constant.” He grins, cheeky, looking past Jason.

Jason isn't processing fast enough to be offended for his own sake, but he turns and checks on Tim, other Tim, the Tim who apparently also has a claim to the Red Hood name. Tim is propped up on Nightwing's shoulder, looking drowsy and relaxed. He's looking back at Robin, and his lips are pressed tightly closed, but he's smiling, and it reaches his eyes.

Alright, then. This is probably fine.

Jason snorts, to get the kid's attention, and rolls his eyes. “Comes with the job description,” he snarks.

The kid lights up. Jason feels distinctly weird, having that smile directed at him, but it's not… bad.

Yeah. This is fine.

-

I'm planning to add a reblog with more information on this au/fic idea, so if you're interested, watch this space.

[rikosseen]

Taehoon Seong x Reader: Confession

Anon request

One thing about Taehoon Seong is that he values his pride, and commits to holding high standards for himself. The man does not, and will not settle for less than what he deems himself worthy. He tells himself that he’s mature, and accountable. Tries to repeatedly diss anything that could jeapordise what he holds dear. He tells himself that you have no place in his life. How dare you anyway. Entering his life so suddenly, engraving your presence in all the little bits of his wake. You’re a real bastard for that.

Taehoon can’t fathom the thought of you two together. In the time that he’s known you, nothing stood out. So why? Why on Earth does he sweat so excessively when you’re near. Why on Earth does the close proximity he’s in with you make him squirm? Taehoon refuses to believe that he’s developed any sort of feelings. There’s absolutely no way. So, after some contemplation, the man decides that he holds you to no value. That your mere presence is insignificant, and that you’ll never be anything more to him than an acquaintance.

.

Taehoon watches you with narrowed eyes from across the bustling street. He’s clenching the plastic bag in his hand so tightly that a hole begins to form. You’re smiling, laughing even, at somebody else’s joke. You’re meant to only make that expression with him. He thought he was the one who could make you smile and laugh like that. What the fuck? Taehoon clicks his tongue and turns away in frustration, momentarily catching your eyes as he walks off.

.

“Are you dating that asshat?”

You look over at Taehoon, and cock your head.

“The guy from the traffic lights.”

Oh. You can’t help but laugh. “No, not exactly. We’re friends. He’s kinda cute though, right? Hobin said we’d look good together,” you say with a grimaced smile .

Fuck Hobin, Taehoon thinks.

“You two’d look fucking ugly,” he spits, walking away.

A little offended, you scoff at him, and mutter a screw you. Taehoon doesn’t get very far though. In fact, he turns back around to face you. The man’s face is undeniably red, and he opens his mouth to say something. You want to laugh at him for looking so funny, but suppress your emotions. Taehoon grumbles a bit, and walks toward you to grab his bomber jacket next to the hook you’re standing beside.

“We’d look better.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air, and you don’t know how to respond to him. Did you hear him correctly? Taehoon glances at you, regretting his words instantly. There goes his pride.

“Yeah,” you agree, looking down and blushing furiously.

A hand gently caresses your cheek, and dumbfounded, you look at Taehoon. He leans in, and you feel a rush of nervousness and anticipation. Taehoon must notice this because the man smirks and lets his hand fall.

“So you like me.”

Huh?

“What? Disappointed?”

You feel embarrassed, and just stand in place, sweating profusely. This bastard was just joking. Just when you feel your heart about to sink, Taehoon pulls you in and connects his lips with yours. The moment is sweet, but fleeting, and the two of you pull away from each other.

“Not that mean,” Taehoon covers his face to mask his bashfulness.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 14)

Wherein friends talk.

Kei is the only one convinced that they're not friends.

“But why does your Quirk backlash look like that?” Midoriya pressed, still too curious.

Ugh. “Midoriya-kun, do you know what percentage of the human body is made of water? I’m doing well if the backlash only hits me.” A lie, at least in the implications. The two facts had nothing to do with each other. The only true bloodbender among shinobi—that Kei knew of—was the Third Mizukage, and that was firmly not her problem.  

Midoriya blinked. His eyes went a little distant as he thought through the implications, muttering quietly to himself. Then there was a grimace as he didn’t like what he found. 

Hopefully that would be enough to throw him off. 

“But about the glow?” 

Or not. “Why do you?” 

“It makes more sense if you realize she’s related to Aizawa-sensei,” said Todoroki. The utter bastard. 

Kei stared directly at her two-toned classmate. Then mimed strangling him with both hands as he stared placidly back.

Worst of all, Midoriya actually looked like he believed it. 

Since the Sports Festival, Todoroki seemed to be spending less time as an ice statue and more time with Midoriya’s friends, inflicting his newly-revealed personality on other people with a surgeon’s precision. While he stayed stone-faced most of the time, there were hints here and there. The other students didn’t always notice. 

Kei did, because Todoroki’s quietly stated conspiracy theory was practically the first thing he’d ever said to her. Besides something totally inane, like “Can you pass me the worksheet?” 

Strictly speaking, Todoroki and Midoriya were being kept “for observation,” seeing as neither of them had injuries worse than some scrapes. They’d already been allowed to get dressed in street clothes again, with only Midoriya sporting so much as a new bandage. 

Kei, on the other hand? Hospital gown, at least until Manual caved and brought her backpack from his agency to her. Then she changed immediately. Only one padded bandage bulged awkwardly from under the smooth lines of her exercise shirt. All of her other injuries were superficial. Miraculously. 

And they would stay that way. Kei’s smothering embarrassment was her problem. 

Four witnesses. That was all it took to take the anticipated fight between Kei and the Hero Killer from hilariously lopsided in her favor to a complete shitshow. Native was already a problem, but he didn’t know what her “Quirk” was supposed to be and started the battle too helpless to do anything other than occasionally tell his rescuers to run away. If a half-trained killed overcompensated for fear by half-killing the actual threat, he’d be able to write it off as adrenaline and eke out some gratitude for a last-minute save from certain death. 

But Iida, Midoriya, and Todoroki—each one of them was too close. Too clever to trick if they could all corroborate their observations, both of Kei’s fighting style and the places where she skated the edges of her paperwork for the sake of efficiency. And when fighting someone like Stain, who could guarantee a kill if he so much as drew blood, that indecision cost her. 

Then there was the Nōmu, dropping out of the sky like mail-ordered sabotage. Shigaraki might’ve kept to the rooftops and let his three super-soldiers get wrecked—in two cases lethally—but the electrification Quirk on a flier indicated planning. Somebody with more foresight than Hand-Man had noticed Kei enough to target her. 

That was actually the least-disturbing part. The enemy already needed a beatdown. Adding incidents like this to the list was no more taxing than everything else already happening in Kei’s life. And with Isobu wiping away the electrical burns, it was like it never happened. 

She could nearly see the shape of Sensei’s concern outlined in bullet-pointed thin air.

And then Iida spoke up, knocking Kei’s thoughts off their current track. 

“Gekkō-san, you said I couldn’t apologize until we were in the hospital. Can I speak now?” 

It was the first time he’d said anything to her since Manual and Gran Torino left. The ambulance ride sucked all the life out of him, as did careful application of healing Quirks by hospital staff. He sounded like his voice was stuffed with cotton instead of leaving it wrapped around his injured arms. 

Kei nodded, turning her body to face him, face resting on upturned knuckles. She’d already destroyed the distribution of pillows to make herself a lounge, and now it was time to listen. 

“Then…” Iida stared down at the scratchy hospital blanket. “Then I don’t think I can express just how sorry I am to have dragged you into this. All of you. If it hadn’t been for—for my inability to control my emotions, none of us would’ve been in danger in the first place. Everything I did tonight” 

“And Native would be dead,” Todoroki pointed out. He’d been listening to Iida’s earlier, halting account of the opening minute of the fight, before Kei and Midoriya showed up to throw yet more bodies into the brawl. 

Iida shook his head. “I barely knew he was there. All I cared about was fighting the Hero Killer to avenge my brother. Even Stain realized that I was rushing into battle for entirely selfish reasons.”

“I’m not judging you for that,” Kei replied, shrugging her free shoulder. When Todoroki looked her way, one eyebrow raised, she added, “You were about fifteen seconds out. Iida-kun asked what I would’ve done if Stain went after my brother, and the honest answer is that I would’ve killed him. Hypothetically.” 

Todoroki didn’t even blink. Just nodded, slowly, like he was taking the late-night version of Kei and her rougher mannerisms and slotting these data points into a new paradigm. It was also possible that Todoroki genuinely did not give a damn and was already thinking of something else. 

“But you weren’t the one put in that position. I was. And I lost control of myself entirely and nearly died for my mistakes,” Iida insisted. His eyes were still reddened and he looked even more upset. “And you offered to let him go, if he would just leave us alone.” 

“And he didn’t take that chance, even outnumbered five-to-one. With a Quirk on a timer.” Kei waved a dismissive hand. “His fault.” 

“Gekkō-san,” Iida said, a little helplessly. A tear plopped down to the blanket. “Please.” 

It wasn’t as though Iida could ever find out Kei was always going to find some excuse to walk up to an armed serial killer and try knocking out half his teeth. She was paid for shit like this. The most important concern left went basically: “You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”

They sat in silence for a while, though Midoriya moved off his cot to gently rest his hand on Iida’s arm. Iida couldn’t really lean on him, but his breathing steadied after a little while. Midoriya’s mumbling was probably more a comfort than she’d ever manage.

[syndrossi]

If Jon and Rhaegar WERE to sneak out into the city somehow, for some reason, would Rhaegar get them lost again? It would be randomly fun if they ran into, like, a nice Hugh Hammer who thinks they're bastards because of their hair colors and so feels a sort of kinship with these little lost children who are close in age to his own daughter. (Or Ulf, I guess, but I feel like Ulf would care less about protecting lost kids and more about, idk, proclaiming them as his bastard nephews or something, lmao. Silverwing would likely need to pick a different rider in the future in that scenario...) Do you think Daemon would find them because a goldcloak locates them, or because Rhaegar starts singing for the smallfolk (would he have canonically done this already as he was only fourteen?), or because Jon kicks somebody who tries to touch Rhaegar's pretty, pretty hair and thus creates a scuffle/chase/brawl, or in yet another way? I'd be eternally amused if Erryk and Arryk, on their ONE DAY OFF, go out to drink together as brothers, only to see Jon and Rhaegar sneaking through the streets like the little troublemakers they are. And why do you think would Jon and Rhaegar would be motivated to sneak out of the keep at all, when they know that doing so will drive their father's blood pressure up to insane levels? Are they investigating something? Following someone? Lured out? Looking for a birthday gift for their father? Just trying to stretch their legs after being locked in a tower for so long? Literally get lost in the tunnels and can't find their way back into the keep Arya-style?

FINALLY, in the reverberate au, how would this scenario differ? (Toddlers lost in the walls, oh dear.)

Oooohhhhh dear. Rhaegar would probably be able to successfully lead them out into the city without an issue--the main problem is that some passages within the keep seem either inaccessible, differently accessible, or not built/finished. (There are also a handful that didn't exist by Rhaegar's time!)

They would have to go out in disguise, however, because pretty much anyone who looks at Rhaegar in one of his princely outfits is going to assume he's the king's son, Aegon. (It's not an uncommon misconception even within the Red Keep, since he very much acts the part of a crown prince. Just don't let Daemon catch you making that mistake!) And Jon might be mistaken for Jace, for those who aren't quite sure how old Rhaenyra's son is!

I love the idea of them running into the Cargyll twins who cannot escape these troublemakers. The reeeeaaaal question is: do Jon and Rhaegar make a run for it?

If not the Cargyll twins, Ulf or Hugh would definitely be putting their lives on the line interfering with the twins, even in a "nice" way. 😂

Really, it all comes down to which section of the city they venture into. Flea Bottom is, uh, dangerous. Especially for two pretty little boys in finery wandering around. (And even not in finery! No one to miss them, and there is a healthy black market slave trade pipeline to outgoing ships headed to Essos.)

If they are closer to the Red Keep, aka where the nice shops and houses are, they're probably more likely to run into Erryk and Arryk, and less likely to encounter trouble. Just as likely that a Goldcloak who's seen them before in the Red Keep barracks recognizes them and tries to gather them up before Daemon realizes they're gone and goes ballistic.

At present, they're quite aware of the dangers they face, especially with their kidnapping still so recent, so I don't think they'd sneak out intentionally of their own accord just yet. This would have to be a few-months-down-the-road deal, when guards are lowered.

There are still a few circumstances I could see them finding themselves out in the city:

They are worried about Daemon and are trying to help him in some way, and sneaking out is the only way to do so.

A situation like Aegon trying to sneak out to the Dragonpit, and they tag along to keep him safe.

As you suggested, they're lured out in some way.

They are on a supervised excursion and separated in some way.

The real question, of course, is just how large the blast radius of Daemon's panic-fueled explosion ends up being.

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 13 - Surprise Sunday (Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”)

TW/CW: Team whump, spy whump, recapture, kidnapping, knife whump, knife to throat, manipulative bastard whumper, cheerful whumper, arrogant too, scared whumpee, forced to kneel, forced to beg Word count: 1'094

Usually they didn't cover such offensive missions. They were more trained for undercover and spy work. Yet when their team was a teammate down Whumpee didn't hesitate to agree to the mission. Now they were parcouring over the roofs of the city and camped behind chimnees, always on the lookout for their target. So far it was going smoothly, unnervingly smoothly to be precise. There hadn't even been a sign of their target yet even though they had recieved very clear intel that they would be here, perfect to be engaged. Whumpees usually so perfect focus wasn't so perfect tonight, not anymore. The un-explainable tension in the air made them itchy and the scar across their palm hurt. Tucked behind the wall of a flat roof they rubbed over it, their emotions momentarily taking over and that's when they heard the sound. A strangled yelp. Ice shot across their entire spine as they pulled out their knife and spun around.

Then nearly dropped their knife. They were staring into the grinning face of Whumper. Holding a blade to their teammates neck.

Whumpee dared to exchange one look with their teammate, all as frozen up as they were even if significantly less terrified. Shit, shit, shit!! Whumper hadn't even been their target tonight!

"Teamname, how delightful to see all of you this lovely night. I have been itching for a rematch after our last interaction. Now just on who had you been so focused on that you let your guard down, hm? Anybody?", they asked near cheerfully. Murderous bloodlust just barely hidden underneath the surface. They started to look from person to person, expecting an answer.

"Go to hell! And let Teammate go, you son of a bitch.", Leared roared, even with their volume composed.

Whumper tutted. "Naww, that's really no way to talk to the person holding the adventage in this situation, is it?" They pressed the blade deeper against Teammates neck, the skin underneath already reddened. Whumper's gaze wandered again from Teammate to teammate. Excruciatingly slowly.

Please don't look at me, please don't look at me, please don't look at me! Whumpee was experiencing the beginning of a panic attack most likely. Every nerve in their body screamed at them to RUN. Fast and away as soon as possible. They couldn't-they couldn't. But the sight of the knife being pressed harder against Medic-Teammates throat kept them from attempting to flee. They couldn't leave their friend with that monster. So they stayed, standing and shaking as Whumpers gaze finally found them. Whumpee could see how their eyes went wide in surprise and then narrowed again in sadistic glee.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here. What happened to you little stray kitty. Did you change carreer paths after our time together?", each of their words was laced with malice.

Whumpee flinched heavily at the nickname but tried to fight their words off. Tried to act like it didn't bother them at all. Trying to convince themselves. "Let Medic go, now, and nobody needs to get hurt."

Whumper smiled predatory "Oh but where's the fun in that? Come on, kitty, you know that I quite enjoy it when somebody get's hurt. Don't you? Or have you forgotten our time together?", they ask innocently while simultenously nicking Teammates neck. A drop of blood dribbling down from the blade.

Leader made a heated step towards Whumper but that one simply sent him a warning glare and movement of the blade. "Easy tiger, woulnd't want to lose yet another teammate, right? Besides I'm holding a conversation. Its awfully rude, really." They shifted their gaze back to Whumpee.

Whumpee could also feel the gaze of Leader and their temporary teammates way on them, and they squirmed uncomfortably in their stance. "Let Medic go.", they repeated.

"No."

"Yes."

Whumper laughed. "Why should I?", they asked arrogantly.

Whumpee stared at Whumper. Hopeless. They had no advantage and Whumper would have absolutely no problem killing Medic and the rest of their team. They had no choice, they pressed their eyes closed before looking back at their old torturer. "Take me instead."

The other teammates sucked in a breath in unison. Murmured protests raising.

"Well this is interesting. You would return to me by choice?", they pressed on mockingly.

"Y-yes.", Whumpee confirmed, cursing the shake in their voice. "If you let Medic go right now without causing them or the team any further harm of any kind."

"My, my, little kitty. I admire your cleverness yet...Who exactly told you that you could simply..demand things from me in such a manner? I'm sure you can feel how wrong that is too."

Whumpee paled, their knees buckling worse than before but they tried to hold their ground. "That doesn't matter now. Do we have a deal or not?"

Whumper's hole demeanor shifted to a much more serious one."Oh it very much does matter. See I might consider letting your little friend here live and run but not if you pathetic. little. wet cat. think you can demand things of me." "So, if..you can convince me to take you-damaged goods instead I will consider it."

Whumpee held eye contract with their opponent for as long as they could but then their gaze fell to the floor. With their weak legs it wasn't hard for them to fall to their knees. The gravel digging into their skin. They dropped their head too, having more trouble grinding their newfound and hard-eared defiance into the dirt for what they needed to do. "Please. Whumper, I'm begging you. Let the team go unharmed and take me instead. Please."

Whumper suddenly moved towards the kneeling figure, dragging the trapped Medic with them. When they were in front of Whumpee they purposely kicked dirt and gravel into their face. They flinched but didn't budge. "Very well then.", Whumper decided cheerfully and in the blink of an eye the knife had changed necks.

Whumpee whimpered at the faimilar cold bite of the blade on their throat. They couldn't feel the relief about Medic's safety over their own terror.

"Now then, we shall be taking our leave now. Pleasure doing buisness with you." They nodded politely. "Leader." Before dissapearing fast as they came with the kidnapped Whumpee. They would have fun driving that defiance out of them again.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt

@shattermind-8

[lancer-pigeon]

Little Bird, if thou wouldst be so kind as to indulge mine curiosity, I have a query for thee:

For why didst thou become independent? What maketh thee prefer it to working under a larger group? A handler?

sorry it took me a long time to get to this one. the answer is cause corporate work sucks, and I don't trust most people to have my best interests at heart.

>>/ ENCRYPTING

>>/ init.d.securelink@lhurst-con

>>/ linkadd:/211.5.335.1069A7AB9Gh

>>/ Standard encryption successful. The following message is intended only for Rosceline Hurst.

TL;DR: fear and selfishness keep me from placing my loyalty in another corporate interest.

I used to fight for a corp -- SSC Constellar Security. I joined at 17, and was attached to the 115th Mechanized Cavalry "Powderkegs." it was a rapid-response anti-megafauna unit -- we'd be orbitally inserted to fight giant wildlife ("kaiju," colloquially) on Constellar property worlds. I spent a year shooting bugs (six kills to date, best of the unit!) before civil unrest on the nearby colony of New Korath meant resources needed to be diverted. in place of a dedicated urban combat unit, the Powderkegs ended up as the frontline of the anti-resistance movement -- we were strikebreakers. I followed orders and destroyed civilian infrastructure: offices, houses, factories, food storage facilities. CONSEC clocked a conservative ~250 non-combatant casualties, and the colony was abandoned shortly after. in the wake of the crisis, I made Staff Sergeant at 19 and served until my honorable discharge circa 5011.

for a while after that, I bounced between handlers and spent some time in a hole, drinking myself half to death. if I wasn't augmented as part of the pilot program, I'd have accidentally taken enough stims to OD several times over. when I finally scraped some cash together and got back in the cockpit, I made myself a promise: If I'm to be a weapon, I want to choose who I'm pointed at. part of me is scared to swear allegiance to somebody who would cause further destruction -- the other part of me thinks maybe I'm just scared to fight a losing battle for my own ideals. both parts of me are fearful little bastards, and both are very, very tired of bad food and cramped quarters.

it's less terrifying if I'm fighting and dying for my own profit, I think, because selfishness comes naturally.

[password-door-lock]

Mystictober Day 25-- Tea Party

Unknown hosts a little tea party (1.2k words). Content warning: manipulation 

Unknown has his feet up on the table and a smirk on his face when the believer hauls Luciel in, wrists bound, and settles him onto one of the stiff-backed white chairs. You jump back, visibly startled by the redhead’s mere presence. It seems that Unknown’s hard work has paid off better than he ever expected it to.

“MC!” Of course Luciel would pay attention to you before even bothering to look at the brother he abandoned. You’re something that he wants, a prize he thinks he deserves, while Unknown is no longer of any use to him. Clearly, the bastard hasn’t changed one bit. “Are you— are you okay?” His voice sounds choked and strained, as though he cannot comprehend the magnitude of his loss. 

You flinch away, plainly terrified of Luciel, and Unknown shoots his rival a smug look before redirecting his attention to you. Carefully, deliberately, he takes his feet off the table and plants them firmly on the ground before patting his thigh. “Here,” he orders, raising his eyebrows conspicuously at Luciel as he does so. This is absolutely perfect. Unknown is fully in control, and thus far, the execution of his plan has been nothing short of flawless. 

You scramble to follow his command, seeking comfort in his arms. “That’s it, prince(ss),” Unknown coos, “I’ve got you. I won’t let that monster hurt you.” Then, he makes a big show of turning to Luciel. “Whatever did you do to make our prince(ss) so afraid of you?” He knows, of course. He knows every lie that Luciel poured into your head, every line of nonsense about keeping you safe and rescuing Unknown. When you told him that one, Unknown laughed out loud. Rescuing? That’s rich, coming from the person who got him into this situation in the first place.

The expression on Luciel’s face is absolutely fucking priceless. When he’s wearing such sheer devastation, nobody in their right mind would ever try to claim that this bastard is identical to Unknown. “Saeran,” he cries. That name coming out of his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. “What… what did you do to MC?”

You were easy to brainwash, in the scheme of things. You were already terrified when Unknown got his hands on you, and you already didn’t trust Luciel. It really wasn’t difficult at all to get rid of the last vestiges of your affection for that redhead. You were the one who came up with the idea of seeking comfort from Unknown, and he simply ran with it to concoct the scene unfolding now. Should he be thanking you? Maybe he’ll get to that later, after he has his revenge. 

“Ah-ah,” Unknown scolds, “I asked you first.” He rubs your back as you press your face into his neck, more to torture Luciel than to comfort you. Unknown supposes that in this case, it’s actually better for him if you continue suffering, since your pain seems to also hurt Luciel.  

Luciel mutters something under his breath that sounds like a prayer, and Unknown snorts. He doesn’t think that God will be very impressed with whatever pathetic entreaties that redhead is trying to make right now. What kind of god would grant salvation to somebody like that? But just to be safe, Unknown will make damn sure that this liar suffers greatly during his remaining time on Earth. 

“I left MC alone in the apartment with a bomb,” Luciel confesses tearfully. He’s already crying? This really is too good. “I didn’t say anything, I— It’s my fault that— Saeran, please, I— I’m sorry, I— I never— I didn’t abandon you, I—” 

But Unknown just ignores him, instead using your hair as a handle to move your head and make you look at him. “Sweetheart,” he coos at you, “You’ve hardly touched your tea.” Sloppily, with one hand, he pours a cup for you. The teapot is unmistakably full of pale blue elixir; it runs down the side of the porcelain teacup and stains the lace tablecloth, but Unknown could not care less.

“No!” Luciel cries, playing right into Unknown’s hands. He’s really made this entire process all too easy. 

“He’s yelling again,” you mutter. You’re still so plainly terrified, clutching at Unknown’s clothes like your life depends on your proximity to him. 

“Mhm,” Unknown agrees, “He doesn’t want you to get saved. He’s trying to stop you from having the elixir so he can take you back from me and torture you.” Actually, knowing Luciel, that bastard would probably just abandon you when he got you in his hands, but the word torture seems to scare both of you into further compliance with Unknown’s plan. It’s too easy.

“MC, please,” Luciel begs, trying so hard not to raise his voice. Does he seriously expect that to work? “Please don’t do this. Please, you’ll never have to see me again, please—”

But Unknown continues to ignore his prisoner. “He’s already trying to manipulate you again,” he informs you, because it’s the truth. Luciel isn’t capable of caring about anybody, or else he wouldn’t have abandoned his only brother in that awful place. Unknown’s actions, then, are entirely justified— and you’ll be fine, eventually. Once Luciel is taken care of, Unknown will have time to properly welcome you to paradise, just as the Savior promised. But for now… “Why don’t you show him how devoted you are to the Mint Eye, hm?” He even goes so far as to place the teacup in your shaking hands for you. Wordlessly, you follow Unknown’s instructions— you always do, after all. You’ll be rewarded for your compliance in due time.

Luciel mutters more incomprehensible nonsense under his breath. “Saeran, why would you— please, just tell me—” He attempts to raise a question that he’s got no right to ask, but evidently, he can’t find the right words, because his sobs overcome him once again. Besides, Unknown doesn’t need to explain why. According to his Savior, Luciel knows exactly what he did. He’s just pretending to regret it right now because he’s finally facing consequences for his evil actions. 

As you rest your head against Unknown’s shoulder, recovering from the burn of the elixir, he grins at Luciel from across the table. “I win,” he announces simply, slinging a possessive arm around you. But his revenge is only just beginning as he runs his fingers through your hair. “Now, go back to the intelligence room and wait for me, okay, prince(ss)? I’ll come find you once I finish this one thing.” There’s no need to traumatize you further, now that you’ve already served your purpose so well. 

“Mm,” you look confused, but you seem to have at least some understanding of what’s going on. You only just took the elixir, and you didn’t even have very much. You’ll be fine in a few days, Unknown assures himself, and your small sacrifice was nothing short of necessary in the grand scheme of things. “Okay.” Because you’d never have any other response to instructions from Unknown. 

He waits until the believer has escorted you out of the room to return his attention to Luciel. At long last, Unknown can now enact retribution for all of that redhead’s crimes.

[dingbatnix]

Tank

I had an idea like last minute before bed and stayed up way, wayyyy to late to get it all down. Anyway, enjoy!

Dream had been kicked out of his colony

He knew he could be a bit of a prick sometimes, and sometimes he got too lost in the moment and went overboard, but he couldn't help it!

His higher thought would go on the back burner, and he'd just be in the moment.

He knew he deserved to be kicked out, though. It was his fault the kid was dead, after all.

He'd just been teasing the teenager a little bit, and maybe he went to far, kept at it for too many weeks

But one day the kid had just ran off

Next he knew, they were getting news that the teen had been snatched up by one of the humans living in the apartment complex, and that the colony had to move.

Not Dream, though. He was forced to stay, because it was his fault the kid had run off, and his death was on Dream's hands.

The colony didn't want a murderer in their midst, even if it was an unintentional one

Dream could survive just fine on his own, of course, but the loneliness was drowning him in a cesspit of regret and loathing and the longing for any sort of company.

He just wished that he had somebody to talk to.

°°°°°°

So when Tommy hears his human, Wilbur, shout out, 'gotcha,' and a small, terrified scream, you know he's running in the bean's direction

He's not afraid of Wilbur hurting the other borrower

But he doesn't want the new guy to have a heart attack

When he gets to the kitchen, he tells Wilbur to let him say hello

But when he sees who the human's holding, his body shuts down

It's Dream, the man who tormented him for months

The bastard had made Tommy want to die, and eventually the teen had run off and been caught by Wilbur, who was pretty good, for a human

Tommy freaks, and Dream is both terrified of the bean and amazed that Tommy's still alive

But Tommy tells Wilbur that, 'that's the guy that–that messed with my head, I don't, keep him away! Lock him up or something"

So Wilbur puts Dream in a terrarium

Where Tommy convinces Wilbur that Dream's an absolute bastard and would kill them both if he had the chance

So Wilbur grows contemptful of Dream and hates him for what Tommy told him he did

So he kinda sorta neglects the other borrower

So Dream is a little more than starved, and definitely stuck in the tank

And he grows much weaker than he was

It doesn't take long for a borrower to grow weak from starvation

Less than the human standard of three weeks, but more than the mouse standard of two days

About a week, probably

Wilbur still puts food in the tank for him, of course

But sometimes he's away for trips

One such trip he can't bring Tommy with him (he usually does, cause he doesn’t want to leave the teen alone with Dream)

So he leaves him at his apartment

He forgets to leave enough food in the tank for Dream though, in the rush to leave

And his trip will take about two weeks

Sometimes Tommy will come by to gloat and just talk to Dream during this span of time

And he does notice that Dream seems to be getting thinner and weaker

But he doesn't think much of it until the day that he finds Dream slumped on the ground of the tank, against the glass wall, breathing weakly

He asks what's wrong, because despite his hate for the man, he isn't cruel, doesn't want to actually hurt him

So Dream avoids the question by telling the teen that he's sorry for what he did to him

That he didn't mean to go so far, but sometimes he just lost himself in the actions and forgot basic decency, that it was entirely Dream's fault and he doesn't want the teen to think any of it was his own fault

And Tommy asks him why now, why apologize now, you could've done that weeks ago

And Dream tells Tommy that he's going to die, that he only has two, maybe one day left.

And Tommy freaks out, really looking at the man closely

The other borrower is stick thin, and his clothes are so baggy on him they look like they might fall off at any moment

Tommy demands to know what's going on, so Dream wearily tells the teen that he was starving to death. That the human (Wilbur) hadn't left him anything to eat like he usually would before he left on his long trip

With a horrifying realization, Tommy understood

That was five days ago. Dream hadn't eaten in five days. That was practically a death sentence for a borrower, because once you went past that half week mark, you would probably be too weak to scavenge for food.

That's why they lived in colonies, as double insurance to stay alive and could provide help if someone needed it.

He tries to get the older borrower to say anything else, but he had evidently passed out

Panicking, Tommy scaled down the table, across the living room into the kitchen, and up the counter to a spread of non-perishables like crackers that Wilbur left out for him

Grabs one, and makes his way all the way back to the tank. It doesn't take him long to climb into the tank, the lid is open and his hook line makes it easy

He drops down inside, pulling in his hook with him and runs his way over to Dream

He can't let the other borrower die

He just can't, especially when the man’s supposed last words wore an apology to Tommy

Tommy tries to get Dream to eat the cracker chunks he brought, but the man is practically unresponsive

It takes a thin cracker-water mash (he'd had the water in a tiny flask he carried in his bag, some tinfoil mad a bowl) to bring motion to Dream, who's eyes flicker open to land on Tommy, then the cracker-water

He turns his head away, telling Tommy not to bother

But the teen convinces Dream to eat more of it until Dream turns away again, this time telling Tommy that he'll get really sick if he eats anything more

Tommy doesn't like it, cause Dream hardly ate anything, but acquiesces nonetheless

For the rest of the week, until Wilbur comes back, Tommy brings Dream food several times a day

Dream gets better, during this time, but he's still way too thin under his clothes and still can't walk very far

When Wilbur gets back Tommy tells him to let Dream go

He has realized that what he had been doing to Dream (by proxy of Wilbur) was wrong, and that he can't do that to the man anymore

Wilbur, meanwhile, feels awful about forgetting to leave Dream any food before he left and nearly killing him

He does as Tommy says, and lets Dream down next to a wall exit

Dream stumbles through it, and while both borrower and bean are worried about the state of the other borrower when he left, the obvious desire to get away from both of them was plain in Dream’s voice and posture

It's not even four days later that Tommy finds Dream collapsed in one of the many walkways inside of the walls, looking worse than he did when he was let go

He tries to wake the older borrower up, but nothing he does works

Dream looks thin again, too which scares Tommy

Taglist that I forgor:

He drags to taller man out to Wilbur, who immediately tries to wake Dream up as well, no dice

They make a thin broth for the comatose borrower, and Tommy carefully pours a little bit into Dream's mouth (presently aware of what Dream had told him was 'refeeding syndrome,' during the week that Tommy had been bringing him food (a human term) hoping to rejuvenate the man a little

It doesn't, but Wilbur tells him to give Dream a little more in about fifteen minutes, and, "how fast are your metabolism, Tommy?"

Tommy doesn't know, but after about an hour Dream rouses a little bit

He freaks, at first, seeing Tommy and, more importantly, Wilbur again

But they both explain what happened.

Tommy tells Dream that he can't leave until he's back to one hundred percent again, so he won't die, and Wilbur agrees

"You're not—" Dream winces uncertainly, baring his teeth in a fearful grimace. "You're not going to stick me back in the tank, a—are you?"

They don't, and they let Dream recover all of his strength after several months

They bond over that time, and Tommy forgives Dream

Dream loses the majority of his fear of Wilbur, too, along the way, and they grow to be good acquaintances

If Dream ever starts to go to far with anything he says or does, a heavy word or a parting hand from a human—Wilbur—will easily snap Dream back into reality

While the older borrower is a bit reclusive, he hangs out quite a lot with Tommy and, to a lesser extent, Wilbur (even though the human still scares him sometimes).

He was very social, after all, before he got kicked out of his colony

@i-am-beckyu @brick-a-doodle-do @kayla-crazy-stuffs

[specialagentlokitty]

Daryl x reader - no angels here

Part 7:

Jonah stood up with a small grunt of pain, and he glared in your direction, watching as you clasped your hands behind your back.

“We knew it would only be a matter of time before you showed your true face…”

“So did I.”

You raised a hand, a swarm of ravens appearing, surrounding your, swirling around you, cawing loud enough to make somebody go deaf.

They flew in all directions making everybody duck out of the way, and they raised their gaze towards you.

Your whole attire had changed, a black trench coat, black jeans with chains connected to the belt loops, from your back were two large, very beaten black wings.

The bottoms of them were nothing but bone, the feathers growing above it messy, burned, containing small holes.

“Oh how the mighty fall indeed.” Jonah taunted.

You clasped your hands behind your back again, watching as he brushed the dirt from his clothes.

“Now dear sister, one does have to wonder how you managed to escape.”

“Don’t try act so tough Jonah, we both know that you are simply just a messenger boy. Tell the bastard that sent you if he wants me dead, he can come do it himself.”

Jonah chuckled a little bit.

“Oh believe me, he will. My job is to bring that traitor back and make him pay for his betrayal.”

You hummed a little bit, moving one of your hands and you raised a finger, watching as the chains wrapped around him, bringing him to his knees.

You walked over to him, walking behind him and you stood there, placing your hand on his forehead.

“Do you think this will scare me?” He scoffed.

“No, I could care less about scaring you Jonah. I’m not interested in that.”

“Then what is this? Just a little show for your friends?” He taunted.

You hummed a little bit, tilting his head back a little bit, digging your talons into his skull, feeling the blood drip down your hand.

You grabbed something from just above his head, and you stepped backwards.

“Do you know the purpose of an angels halo?” You asked.

Jonah let out a nervous breath.

“Don’t…”

“It’s to let heaven know who can come and go freely, separate you from demons, from human souls. It’s also the source of the power, life, everything for an Angel.”

“Please… please don’t..”

You tossed his halo up and down in your hands, standing just in front of him, and you tilted your head back.

“Want to know what happens if you break it?”

You turned your head, staring him in the eyes with a blank look on your face.

“(Y/N) that’s enough.” Balthazar whispered.

He walked over, placing his hand over yours, and you turned towards him.

“They’re all watching you…”

“Not just them… the entirety of heaven will be watching Jonah…”

“Then send him back with a message, warn them to stop..”

You scoffed, looking at the halo in your hand.

“I’ll give them a different message.” You snarled.

You gripped the hall tightly in your hands, watching as it cracked, listening to Jonah and Balthazar plead you not to go ahead with it.

But you ignored them, turning your gaze towards Jonah.

“I will do what I must to protect my people. These are my people, Jonah, you made a big mistake coming here.”

He begged and pleaded for your to stop and you made him watch as you shattered the halo, and he screamed.

Light exploded him, turning his body into a pile of ash, the chains falling with a clanging sound to the ground.

“I will destroy every single one of them that comes here Balthazar, every one of them that comes after you, comes after these people.”

You opened your hand, letting the remains of the halo scatter in the wind, and you finally turned around to look at him properly.

Balthazar looked at you sadly as he watched you glance behind him only briefly to see the face of your friends painted with fear and confusion, and you locked eyes with him.

He looked past you, reaching a hand out and you arched your wing away from him, making a noise of discomfort.

“Don’t Balth…”

“You never told me…”

You took a step back, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

A birds came back down, sweeping past you and when they cleared you were gone and he sighed.

“I suppose we should go somewhere dry, preferably not the church, (Y/N) doesn’t like her name being spoken in there.”

Michonne pointed her sword at him, giving him directions on where to go, and he was taken to a house where he was cuffed and forced to sit in a chair.

“Tell us everhthing.” Michonne demanded.

So, he did.

He spent hours explaining everything that had just happened, giving them backstory on who Jonah was, who he was.

It took a lot of explaining, and convincing on his part, letting them see his wings, touch them to prove that they were real, and Daryl shooting an arrow into his shoulder to see if he was lying or not.

“So, let us get this straight. They’re looking for (Y/N)? Now you’re a fugitive as well?” Aaron asked.

Balthazar nodded his head.

“Take however long you want to process this, I’m not going anywhere.”

They left him there with Daryl watching over him.

They would come back day after day to ask him the same questions and his answers never changed.

Gabriel walked into the room, standing near the door.

“If what you say is true then why is all this happening?” He asked.

Balthazar sighed.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t important enough to know.”

“Then what were you? What was your job?”

“I was just a lowly scout. I would be sent to check on people and report back, I was sent to do the same thing with (Y/N).”

“You told them where she was?”

Balthazar shook his head, leaning back in the chair slightly, looking up at the ceiling.

“No. I never told them. But it was only a matter of time until they found her.”

“Why?”

Balthazar looked at him.

“You’re not the one who should be asking that question. I believe he sent you in here to ask it.”

Gabriel nodded his head.

“Tell Daryl that whatever information he wants on (Y/N) he can come and get it himself. She said I could tell everybody, but I believe some times he should hear first.”

“I agree, but he won’t listen to me. He refuses to come and see you himself.”

“Then he’ll never know, she won’t show herself to anybody, not now.”

“Will she show herself to you?”

“Yes, if I call for her. But I won’t do that.”

Gabriel nodded his head again.

“The things I know about (Y/N) should be passed directly on to Daryl, given how close they were I think it’s only right he finds out first. If he wants to know he knows where to find me. I’ll tell him everything I know.”

Gabriel left the room, leaving Balthazar alone sitting there.

He sighed, walking over to the window and he stood looking outside where Gabriel reported everything back to council.

Daryl was stood there, off to the side like he didn’t really want to be part of the conversation, as if he wasn’t interested.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he closed his eyes.

“Running away won’t get you anywhere (Y/N).”

“I’m not running anymore.”

“You say that, yet here you are, hiding from the very people you care so deeply about. Running from them.”

You didn’t say anything, you walked over to him and leant against the wall, away from the view of the window.

He turned his eyes to you, seeing your blank face.

“The longer you hide from this the more painful it’s going to be.”

“That’s what I deserve.”

Balthazar turned to you.

“You don’t! When are you going to see that (Y/N)? You don’t! What happened was not your fault, you were tricked into it, you have people here who you grew close to, you can have that life.”

You shook your head at him.

“The man you love is down there, and you’re avoiding him. You won’t even speak to him.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“If I can convince him to see you will you speak to him?”

“You’ll never convince him, Daryl sticks to whatever he puts his mind to.”

Balthazar turned to look out the window again, and he turned back to see that you were gone.

He knew you wouldn’t have gone far, you would’ve found somewhere to sit away from them.

You chose the highest point of the community and you sat there, arms wrapped around your knees, fully aware of the man in the roof of what was your home looking at you.

You refused to look at him though, just staring straight ahead.

From where he was stood Daryl could see you, the real you.

You made no attempt to hide yourself now, your red eyes gazing blankly at nothing, your wings neatly folded against your back.

Even your clothing was different, the soft sweaters and comfy jeans replaced with black jeans, a black shirt, a black trench coat.

It was like you were a whole different person.

You were a whole different person, you weren’t the (Y/N) they knew, the (Y/N) they all trust.

You weren’t his (Y/N).

But that look on your face, he had seen it before, that was the look you always had when you were so far gone inside your own head.

Part of him was aching to reach out, to help you, but the rest of him refused, and he turned away from you.

Making his way inside and back out of the house, he walked away from where you were sat, stopping by the house where your friend was being held.

Balthazar was leaning out of the open window.

“She won’t leave because she wants to protect this place, even if it means giving her very life to do it.” Balthazar called.

Daryl looked up at him.

“(Y/N) always protected those she cared about, and evidently that was her own downfall.”

Daryl turned away, going to carry on walking.

“She wasn’t always like that. She was once exactly as you knew her.”

Balthazar pushed himself away from the window, walking to the cot his was given to sleep and he sat down on it.

He waited a few moments, but Daryl never came, but he didn’t give up hope.

He knew Daryl would ponder the words he was told, and eventually he was right, nearly a week later Daryl finally came to see him.

Sitting down on the chair, Daryl leant back, setting his crossbow in his lap, letting Balthazar know he wasn’t afraid to use it.

“What do you know?” He asked.

Balthazar slowly sat up from where he was laid down.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Balthazar nodded his head, leaning back against the wall.

“Get ready for a long conversation then.”

[suzukiblu]

If you are still taking requests I would love some Jason Todd!

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. Like it's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking <i>besotted</i> Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.