#sure you can get these new but i was already shopping on the site so i figured why not gamble a disease from possibly expired perfume

[eternalstateofoctober]

MUM IS COMING OVER AND STAYING THE NIGHT AGAIN

[jamminvroomvroom]

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

-

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

-

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

-

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

-

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

-

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

-

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

-

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

-

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

-

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

-

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

-

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

-

taglist

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[stonedstr8]

TOKE 'N STROKE

"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"

He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.

Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.

Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"

He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"

Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."

Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"

"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.

"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.

A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"

After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.

"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.

Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...

...

When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.

When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.

"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.

Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"

After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."

*PHRRRBBBTTT!*

His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.

"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.

"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.

"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.

Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"

"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.

Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."

Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"

*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*

Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.

As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.

"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.

Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO — furniture shopping for your new apartment is a lot harder than you expected it to be when your boyfriend insists on trying it out first.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! fluff, pro-football player nagi, he is just the sleepiest! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! oh how i have missed him :( my heart calls his name always <3

“sei! get up!” you hiss under your breathe as you watch your boyfriend nagi drop himself down onto another one of the display couches, letting his long legs stretch out infront of him as he relaxes into the cushions with a sigh.

“huh, why? i’m jus’ testing it out, gotta make sure it’s comfy.” his voice is a soft drawl already as he lets his eyes rest closed, snowy bangs falling over his features as you nudge at his feet with a pout.

“and is it? you’ve tested it now.” you grumble as you watch nagi tilt his head to the side slightly, shrugging his shoulders as he hums dreamily. it’s like he’s really considering his answer before his eyes peek open to cast you a sleepy glance.

“eh, yeah.. soooo comfy~ cmeer, try it out, angel.” he sighs as his arms reach for you, almost successfully grabbing at your hips before you step back out of his reach— causing the sleepy striker to send you a cute little frown before he falls back with a huff.

“but we still have so much to see seishiro.” you try to reason but you know nagi’s the hardest person to move when he gets comfy, casting a glance over your shoulder to make sure there’s not some employee on their way to kick you both out yet.

“ah, that sounds like such a pain, we can jus’ get this one.” he really was like a big baby, a 190cm pro-football player baby. his cheeks are puffed out as he pouts and he looks like he’s on the brink of falling asleep as he blinks up at you, reaching an arm out every few seconds to see if it’ll convince you to come closer.

“or i can just take u home if u don’t get up.” you hiss under your breath, opting for this route first over the actual cuddle route because you don’t wanna give into him too easily. just incase it really is that comfy.

“that’s even more bothersome. no fair, pretty thing.” nagi’s words are grumbled, a slight whine as he kicks one of his feet out and lets his hands shove into his pockets to pull out his phone. that’s when you know it just got real, watching him drop his phone into landscape and no doubt about to load up a video game— he really was getting comfortable.

“fine, sei! move over.” you finally give in, for your own sake— and the stores— because you really didn’t feel like being here all day.

“yay, you gotta cuddle me. wanna make sure we can nap here, see~” you let yourself rest down beside nagi as his arms wrap around you instinctively, pulling you easily against his chest while his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

it really was a comfy couch, you admit as you really let yourself melt into the cushions, surrounded by your boyfriends body heat as he wraps himself around you. you give it a few moments, feeling yourself sink into a blissful sort of comfort before you realise you’re still in a store, and your snowy haired boyfriend has grown a little too quiet.. and heavy next to you as you nudge him.

“hey! don’t fall asleep, sei! get up!”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[ms-demeanor]

Three weeks ago:

New Guy: Hey I need pricing for a battery and RAM for this customer's laptop.

Me: Sure, ninety dollars total.

New Guy: (read)

New Guy (next day): Did you get me that quote I asked for?

Me, putting the pricing on a quote: Uh, sure, here, ninety dollars total.

Me, to New Guy two days later: Hey did you get a response to that quote? That's for that company's CEO, he wants his laptop back.

Me, the day after that, to myself: That guy isn't going to balk at a hundred dollars for parts, fuck it i'm ordering I can return them if he says no but it's going to take like three days for the battery to get here.

Me, to New Guy the day after that: Hey, did you get approval from the customer to buy those parts? I placed the order but if he doesn't want them I need to know.

Customer, in an email to my boss: Hey why is New Guy telling me that I need to sign a quote? I talked to New Guy and he was prompt and understanding and I approved the parts in the shop that day.

My Boss: You didn't order the parts?

Me: I actually DID order the parts because I figured he'd want his laptop back, but not until yesterday because I didn't know that he'd approved the price.

My Boss: You didn't tell Alli that he approved the price?

New Guy: Well you said we needed to send them a quote.

Me: Did you send them the quote that I put together for you?

New Guy: Well no, because they'd already approved the price.

My Boss: And you didn't tell Alli?

New Guy: I said he wanted his laptop fixed so we needed a price.

Me and My Boss: Great.

*one week later, new guy will be perusing career advancements elsewhere*

Customer, in an email to my boss: I'm sorry to hear that New Guy has moved on, he was wonderful to work with and it can be hard to cope with turnover in an organization. That being said, Alli may be a quality person for you to work with, but is not a person we want to work with, please don't have her handle anything to do with our account.

My Boss: What did you do that they're so mad about?

Me: Literally the only things I've worked with them on in the last four months are two quotes that you requested and sent that they have no idea I worked on, the hardware from New Guy, and a replacement UPS battery that got installed on site on Friday, which we had a bit of a back-and-forth on because the CEO approved the quote with a thumbs-up emoji and we weren't sure if that meant "I understood the explanation of why this battery needs to be replaced and I will think about it" or "I understood the explanation of why this battery needs to be replaced and I would like you to place the order" but we went ahead with the order because I knew they were already pissed about the hesitancy from New Guy.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER NINE: WARMTH

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SUMMARY ↳ Gotham's getting colder. You think your life is getting warmer. Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.” “Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.” “That’s literally the same thing.” “It’s literally not.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: none, i think wc: 3.4k

Snow comes early in Gotham, so by December it’s mostly snowing everyday. It feels like you’re in New York again, when the Christmas lights start appearing on trees and snowmen litter the parks. Gotham, true to its nature, stays colorless for the most part. However, Gotham Square provides quite the merry site. Your suit reflects the bright lights as you swing by. 

Despite the holiday cheer, you can't let your guard down. Gotham's criminals have a knack for exploiting the city's festivities, and tonight is no exception. You notice a group of people gathered around a shop window, watching a live performance of animatronic figures reenacting a Christmas story. You land silently on a nearby rooftop, scanning the crowd below.

Karen’s voice crackles to life. "[Name],  there's been a report of suspicious activity near the old ice rink. It seems someone is trying to steal the charitable donations collected for the orphanage."

"Got it," you reply, already changing direction. You launch yourself into the night, the cold wind biting through your suit. The streets blur beneath you as you make your way to the ice rink, the glow of Gotham Square fading behind you.

When you arrive, you find a group of thugs attempting to break into the donation booth. They are armed and clearly not expecting any resistance on a night like this. You drop down silently behind them.

"Planning to ruin Christmas for the kids, are we?" you hum, voice distorted and menacing. The thugs spin around, startled, but it's already too late for them.

You make quick work of the first few, your training and instincts taking over. A punch here, a kick there, and they are down before they know what hit them. One of the thugs tries to flee, but a well-aimed web takes him down, his body hitting the wall with a thud.

As you tie up the last of the unconscious criminals, you hear the distant chime of church bells, signaling the hour. You look up, seeing the first flakes of snow beginning to fall from the sky. You feel a sense of childlike wonder as the tiny white stars fall from the sky. You secure the donation booth, ensuring that the funds will be safe for the children who need them.

friendly behind you

“Aw, you beat me to it.”

Nightwing leans casually against the wall, escrima sticks in hand. You give Nightwing a nod, acknowledging his familiar presence. "Just cleaning up Gotham's holiday mess," you reply. "Didn't expect you to be in town."

Nightwing grins, flipping his escrima sticks with practiced ease. "Couldn't miss out on Gotham's winter wonderland, could I? Plus, I wanted to visit my favorite bug.”

“Spiders aren’t bugs, they’re arachnids.”

“That’s literally the same thing.”

“It’s literally not.”

Whenever Nightwing is in town (which seems to be more than usual) he takes it upon himself to accompany you whenever he can find you. You mostly just let him do his own thing. "Semantics aside, looks like you've got everything under control here," Nightwing remarks, glancing around at the subdued criminals. “So… how have you been?”

You’re about to swing away, but his question confuses you. “What?”

He scratches the back of his head. “Well, how are you doing? Is work good? Or do you go to school?”

He watches as the eyes of your suit deadpan at him. “...Yeah? Life’s good, I guess?” you reply, appalled.

“That’s good.” he beams. Then he inspects your suit like it’s personally offended him. “Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?”

“Are you sure that thing can keep you warm?” you sass, gesturing to his skin tight uniform. “There’s literally a built-in heater, I’m fine.”

He nods, looking to the side. It’s silent for a while, leaving you with your thoughts. Is he seriously trying to… parent you? You’re used to Steve or even Bucky mother henning you, not Dick Grayson. Don’t get it wrong, you like and respect the hell out of him. But he literally has no business trying to coddle you into his arms. It just makes no sense to you

“Well… it’s been fun,” you cough, turning around and webbing a building. “Bye,” and then your off. Nightwing sighs as his eyes follow you. As you disappear into the Gotham skyline, he looks down, twirling his escrima sticks absentmindedly.

“I see B’s adoption tendencies are hereditary,” chuckles Oracle in his ear.

“Shut up,” he hisses.

“Maybe I should just get him a dog or something,” bemoaned Jon, laid dramatically across your couch.

“Pretty sure someone will do that already,” comes your reply.

Jon likes hanging around in your apartment. You wonder if his parents are curious as to where he is all the time. He’s even started leaving some of his sweaters around (that you definitely don’t steal, no way). He groaned dramatically, rolling over to look at you upside down. "You're supposed to be supportive," he mumbled, voice muffled by the cushions.

Jon has decided he needs your council in getting Damian a Christmas present. “Well, you shouldn’t get him anything to do with, like, chores or work.” You walk over and sit on his stomach. He can take it, he’s a big boy. He curls an arm under his head and rests on it. “That’s gift-giving number one.”

“What can I give him that he couldn’t just buy anyway?” he huffs.

“Something personal,” you hum, brushing his curls out of his face. “Something custom, even. He likes art. Make him something yourself.”

Jon perks up a bit at your suggestion, contemplating the idea. "Like what? I'm not exactly an artist."

"You don't have to be a Picasso," you reassure him with a grin. "Just something that shows you put thought into it. Maybe a sketch, or even a painting if you’re feeling bold. It's the personal touch that matters."

He considers it, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Yeah, I could do that. Maybe a memory or something, like the time he tried to cook and set the kitchen on fire."

You choke out a laugh. “What? You never told me about that!”

Jon blushes slightly, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, well, it was… an interesting evening. Alfred wasn't too pleased."

"I can only imagine," you chuckle, picturing Damian attempting to cook. "That could definitely make something.”

“I’ll think on it,” decides Jon, sitting up and tugging you so you sit on his lap. After the whole Ivy situation, he was really awkward around you for a while. He kept stuttering over his words and wouldn’t look you in the eye. Eventually he got comfortable again, really comfortable. You can barely be around him without him having a hand on you or an arm around you. “What will you get him?”

"Something that doesn't involve kitchen disasters," you reply with a playful grin, settling comfortably on his lap. Jon rolls his eyes good-naturedly, his arm finding its familiar place around your shoulders.

"You're no fun," he teases, squeezing you gently. "But seriously, what are you planning to get him?"

You lean back against him, considering the question. "I haven’t really thought about it. To be honest, I didn’t even think he would expect one from me.”

Jon hums thoughtfully, running his fingers across your shoulder absentmindedly. "Why wouldn’t he expect one from you? You’re his friend.”

You guess he’s right. You and Damian talk, go out of each others way to spend time with one another (even if Damian would rather choke than admit it). It’s hard figuring out where you fit in this world.

"Yeah, we're friends," you murmur, more to yourself than to Jon. "But sometimes I wonder if I really belong here, you know?" You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Jon's fingers pause in their absent-minded tracing along your shoulder. He shifts slightly, turning to look at you with a gentle expression. "Of course you belong here, [Your Name]. You’re kind and funny and brave. You don’t have to be anything but yourself.”

Your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest and hug his. “I’m sure you’re just feeling homesick,” he reassures. Oh, he has no idea.

“I know Gotham is a tough place but… I’m here for you, and Damian’s here for you,” he pauses, “...if you want… I can take you up the Queens…?” Surely he doesn’t mean flying you there? It takes a couple of hours to get to Queens from here, but he can take you there in an instant. However, that also means revealing to you his secret. Christ, it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

Regardless, it wouldn’t be your Queens. Actually, seeing it might do more harm than good. “No, it’s okay. Thanks, though.”

He looks at you with the most earnest puppy eyes you’ve seen. It tugs at your heartstrings, his concern and offer of support clear in his gaze.

"Thanks, Jon," you manage, your voice soft with gratitude and a touch of wistfulness. "I appreciate it."

He nods, sensing your reluctance to delve deeper into the topic. Jon's hand finds yours, squeezing it gently in a gesture of solidarity. "Anytime, [Your Name]. You know that."

Jon's earnestness and the warmth of his hand in yours fill you with a mix of comfort and a slight pang of guilt. You appreciate his concern and the genuine offer of support, yet part of you hesitates to fully accept it. 

“I’ll figure it out,” you declare, referring to Damian’s gift. “And it’ll definitely outshine yours,” you tease.

Jon grins, and squeezes you close, making you squawk in offense. He blows raspberries in your neck, the feeling of it making you curl in on yourself, but regardless, makes you happy.

“Give me some tunes, Karen.”

Music starts playing from the speakers of your laptop, courtesy of Karen. You hum and rock as you turn a screw. The particle accelerator is looking good and proper now. It’s begun to take shape, winding around the space the more you build it. Sipping your death brew, you make sure the screw is tight before throwing the wrench somewhere.

“Explain to me one more time?” comes Victoria’s voice from your phone. You can see from the facetime that she’s in her pajamas, ready to go to bed.

“It’s a new element. It’s gonna power all my future creations,” you say. “Basically, this bad boy,” you pat the accelerator, “is going to synthesize it by accelerating charged particles to high speeds so that they collide with each other. The atoms will fuse, making the new element.”

“How… did you even come up with this?”

“I didn’t,” you sniff. “My dad’s dad did. He just gave me the blueprints.”

“And what will you name it?”

“Well… my dad planned to name it badassium. So that’s what it’ll be called,” you declare, grabbing your phone.

She raises a brow at the name but has no further comment. “Why don’t you… patent this or something?”

“The idea is to stay discreet, my dear.” You take a seat and kick up your legs. “Besides, I’d have a hard time choosing whether to patent it as [Name] Stark or Spinnerette.”

She snorts. "Right," she says, stifling a yawn. "Just don't blow yourself up, okay?"

"I'll do my best," you reply with a grin. "Sleep tight, Tori. I'll keep you updated."

"Goodnight," she responds, her voice already trailing off. You end the call and set your phone down, turning your attention back to the particle accelerator.

You stretch, feeling the strain of hours spent hunched over. Just as you're about to call it a night, Karen's voice breaks the silence. "Incoming message from ‘please get this boy some brown contacts’."

You wipe your hands on a rag and pick up your phone, opening the message. It's a selfie of Jon and Damian, both smiling (well, Jon is smiling, Damian looks mildly amused). You respond with a simple selfie you took earlier. He hearts the message.

As night falls, you suit up once again, ready for another patrol. The streets are quieter tonight, the snowfall muffling the usual sounds of the city. You swing through the air, feeling a sense of peace and purpose. As you land silently on a nearby rooftop, you hear a faint noise. Your senses sharpen, and you move cautiously towards the sound.

You find a small group of children, huddled together, trying to build a snowman. Their laughter is infectious, and for a moment, you just watch, a smile tugging at your lips.

One of the kids looks up and spots you. "Look! It's Spinnerette!" The others follow his gaze, their faces lighting up with excitement. You drop down to join them, your landing soft and graceful.

"Hi there," you greet them, your voice friendly and warm. "Need any help with that snowman?"

dark and brooding watching

The kids nod eagerly, and you spend the next few minutes helping them build their snowman. When it's done, they cheer, admiring their handiwork. "Thank you, Spinner!" one of the kids says, his eyes shining with gratitude.

"Anytime," you reply, feeling a warmth in your heart. "Now, you little rascals should go home. It’s dark out.”

They whine but listen, scurrying off into the nearby apartments. You watch as they make it inside, they’re parents (who were keeping a vigilant eye) wave to you as they close the door.

You turn to look over your shoulder slightly. “You gonna come out or are you gonna stand there all day brooding?”

“You’re good with children,” comes a low gruff. The man, the myth, the legend himself; Batman steps out of the shadows, approaching you.

“They’re not very complicated creatures,” is your dry response.

Batman steps closer, his presence imposing but familiar. "No, but they require patience and understanding," he replies, his voice softer than usual.

You shrug, "Guess I've had some practice."

He studies you for a moment, his expression unreadable behind the cowl. "You've adapted well to Gotham," he finally says. "It's not an easy place to thrive."

"Guess I had to," you reply, matching his tone. "This city needs all the help it can get."

Batman nods, his eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before returning to you. "I saw Nightwing earlier. He mentioned you had things under control at the ice rink."

"Yeah, just some losers trying to ruin Christmas," you say, dismissively. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

He hums, saying nothing more. "You… handled it well," Batman acknowledges. Woah, this is a moment in history, take a picture.

You nod, having nothing better to say. Internally, you’re giddy at the praise. The two of you stand in silence, looking at the city as the cold air rushes by.

After a beat, Batman shifts slightly, as if considering his next words carefully. "I've been monitoring your progress," he starts, his voice low but not unkind. "You've shown potential. But Gotham tests everyone, even those with the best intentions."

You look at him, catching his gaze behind the cowl. There’s a weight to his words, a reminder of the city's relentless nature. "I know," you reply simply, understanding the implicit warning. Gotham doesn’t forgive mistakes easily, and the path you’ve chosen is littered with challenges.

Batman nods once, his approval implicit yet unstated. "Keep your focus. And remember, sometimes the greatest strength is knowing when to ask for help." His tone is almost paternal, a rare glimpse of advice from a man who often operates in silence and shadows.

You can’t help but snort. “Gee, Bats. If you wanted my secret identity all you had to do was ask.”

“Are you saying you’d tell if you asked?”

“I’m saying… we can be grateful for one another.”

Batman regards you silently for a moment, his expression unreadable as always. Then, with a slight nod, he turns to leave, disappearing into the shadows as effortlessly as he emerged. The night wears on, and you continue your patrol through Gotham's wintry streets. The city seems to hold its breath under the blanket of snow, a rare moment of calm amidst its usual chaos.

“It’s no wonder cats were worshiped in ancient times,” Damian muses, watching Nari stretch lazily on the windowsill. He’s decided to grace you with his presence this fine afternoon, claiming he had nothing better to do. He’s a welcome addition to your apartment.

Damian, reclining on your couch with an air of regal indifference, watches Nari the cat with a mixture of curiosity and mild wonder. His expression softens as Nari pads over to him, sniffing his outstretched hand cautiously before allowing him to scratch behind her ears.

You lean against the kitchen counter, watching the scene with a small smile. "He seems to like you," you comment casually, taking a sip of your drink.

"Hmph," Damian grunts noncommittally, but his hand continues to stroke Nari's fur with a practiced touch. "Animals are simple creatures. They respond to consistency."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his attempt at nonchalance. "So, are you here just to critique my cat's taste in company, or is there something else on your mind?"

Damian pauses, his gaze flicking briefly towards you before returning to Nari. "Tt. Jon was bothering me about the insipid holiday tradition that is Christmas."

You chuckle softly, knowingly. "Ah, Jon and his enthusiasm for festive cheer. What did he want?"

"He insisted on exchanging gifts," Damian mutters, as if the concept itself is offensive. "As if material possessions hold any significance."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, right?" you offer, setting down your mug and joining Damian on the couch. Nari purrs contentedly as you scratch under her chin. “You’re telling me your family doesn’t do Christmas?”

“Of course we do,” he scoffs. “But I do not care much for it. But Jon seems to think it matters.”

"Well, he's not entirely wrong," you say, keeping your tone light. "Gift-giving can be meaningful if it's done thoughtfully. It's a chance to show someone you care about them, to give them something they might appreciate."

Damian regards you thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. "And what would you consider a thoughtful gift, then?"

You smile. "It depends on the person," you begin, tapping your chin in mock contemplation. "For someone like Jon, maybe something that reflects his interests—maybe a new comic he hasn't read yet, or something related to his hobbies. Or, you could make something yourself. That usually adds a personal touch." It’s similar to the advice you gave Jon.

He considers your words, nodding slowly. "I see," he murmurs, as if filing away your suggestions for future reference. “What would someone like you like?” he asks casually.

You think. What would you like? Any material stuff you’d want has no use to you now, and you can’t exactly ask him for stuff pertaining to your little project. Actually… it’s been a while since you’ve wished for something material. Tony catered to your every whim and desire, you never wanted for long.

“A memory,” you decide, nodding. “Something I can experience and remember fondly.”

Damian listens attentively, his expression thoughtful. He seems to mull over your words, considering how to fulfill your request for a memorable gift. After a moment of silence, he nods decisively.

Nari, sensing the relaxed atmosphere, curls up contentedly in Damian's lap, earning a surprised glance from him before he tentatively strokes her fur again.

“Perhaps it is a good time to mention that my father insists I invite you to Christmas this year.”

"Your father?" You blink in surprise at Damian's unexpected news. Bruce Wayne, inviting you to his family's Christmas celebration? It's a surreal thought (and probably not good news). "I... didn't expect that."

Damian shrugs nonchalantly, though there's a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "He's made it clear that you're... welcome."

"Are you... comfortable with that?" you ask cautiously, glancing at Damian for any sign of discomfort.

"I've grown accustomed to your presence," Damian replies evenly, his gaze steady. "Besides, Father insists."

The tension in your shoulders eases slightly at his reassurance. Bruce Wayne inviting you to join his family's celebration—it's a gesture that speaks volumes, even if Damian's demeanor remains somewhat guarded. You're not entirely sure what to make of it, but the prospect of spending Christmas with the Wayne's is undeniably intriguing.

"Alright," you finally say, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Tell your father... I appreciate the invitation."

Damian nods once, his expression giving away nothing more than a hint of curiosity. "Very well."

You lean back against the couch, content to let the conversation drift into a comfortable silence. Damian continues to pet Nari absentmindedly, his thoughts seemingly elsewhere. As the afternoon light fades into dusk, you let the pressure of your situation dwindle away, content to live in the moment.

notes:

reader when dick shows affection: this is vile what is this

dick: :C

-

jon ready to risk it all for reader: hey so im superboy but nevermind that let me die for you pls

[hgfictionwriter]

Maybe This Time - Part Three

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie and you finally get some 1:1 time together (thanks Janine!). You work to build new memories together, but hurt from the past needs to be addressed.

Warnings: None. Temporary, very light angst, but mostly sweet fluff.

A/N: Part two and one.

"What do you think? Should I go for it?" 

Jessie smirked as she saw the screenshot you sent her of her jersey in the Thorns' site shopping cart. 

"I don't know. I thought you said that was too big a commitment." 

"I did. But I was rather impressed at the last game. And we went for drinks after, I finally got to meet Janine – so you know, points for that. And if I think about it, I'm like an OG fan. But if you think I should get a different jersey..." 

Jessie laughed under her breath, her smirk now a full blown smile as she read your message while she ate lunch. The conversation she'd been on the periphery of carried on as she ate another bite before typing out a reply. 

"Oh yeah? Post-game drinks were a hit, huh? And you know, my stats are only getting better with each game 😉 And let's be honest, I'd be pretty offended if you got someone else's jersey. Except Sinc's. Because, you know, GOAT." 

"Oh, well, say no more. You had me at 'stats' lol. Done. I'll pick it up before next game." 

"Lol I figured. My plan all along – I know how much you love stats." 

"You know me so well. I have to say, I'm kind of tempted to modify the jersey. Add some sort of patch or stitching, 'Yay sports!'" 

Jessie laughed out loud, less discrete than before.  

"Don't you dare lol. I've taught you better than that. But hey, if you ask nicely, I could actually sign it for you 😎" 

"I'm sure I have an old group paper kicking around with your signature on it. I need to be able to wash this thing lol. What else can you offer though?" 

Jessie swallowed her food hard, the bite getting caught temporarily in her throat with a wince. Okay, no signature – how humbling. However, there was an opening. 

She stared at her phone temporarily before a loud clearing of someone's throat caught her attention. She lifted her gaze with a curious frown on her face to see Janine staring expectantly at her. Jessie instinctively tilted the phone inwards towards her body. 

"I don't even have to spy to know who you're texting," the blonde said rather self-satisfied. Jessie looked around, heat building in her face already as she hoped Janine was the only one focused on her.  

"Yeah?" Jessie retorted, attempting to appear as unfazed as possible. "You should be pleased. You keep pushing me to text her." She cracked a smirk. "Now that you don't think she's the devil incarnate for 'stringing me along' in university." 

"Oh I don't think you need to be pushed," Janine teased with a wicked grin. "And I never said she was the devil incarnate." She lifted a hand to her chest in exaggeration. "I merely questioned things. But you're right," she relented, "she's quite lovely. And she gives you butterflies, and she makes you blush - more than usual - and you try to act all nonchalant and it's just too adorable for words." 

"Uh huh," Jessie muttered with a flat look. Janine leaned in excitedly. 

"And I have to say, I got the sense that she and I could riff off of each other and just tease the heck out of you, so that really sealed the deal for me." 

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Oh yeah, that's exactly what I need in my life." She'd never admit that it actually excited her that her best friend and you could get along so well. If – and it was a huge 'if' - anything evolved between you two, it was key that you got along with her friends and family.  

She started thinking about how well you got on with her parents and sister – you'd met before during your days at UCLA and they loved you. She also remembered how disappointed they'd seemed when she eventually told them that you two didn't speak anymore.  

"Well, since you're so invested," Jessie went on, rolling her eyes facetiously once more as she opened her phone again and turned it to Janine, "what should I say?" 

Janine squinted as she leaned in to read and it only took a moment for her expression to light up. Before Janine could say anything, Jessie snatched the phone back and placed it on her lap with a frown.  

"I don't want to hear it," she pre-empted the girl. 

"What?" Janine said innocently with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I am totally supportive of the flirtation between you two." She ignored Jessie's look of complaint and cut off her protest. "Her shutting down your autograph is pretty hilarious, by the way," she said with a marginally apologetic look. "Not smooth on your part – you know she's not impressed by your elite football skills. Don't lean on your Jessie the Footballer identity." 

"I wasn't," Jessie nearly hissed, trying to keep her voice down and avoid drawing attention. "I was joking. Half joking." 

"You were flirting, or at least attempting to. She left you an opening here though. So, you should ask her out." 

"I'm not asking her out," Jessie pouted, her shoulders rounding as she scooched closer to the table. She huffed upon seeing the scrutinizing look her friend gave her. "We're still getting to know each other again." 

"Fine. Don't define it as a date, then," Janine dismissed with a wave. She leaned in, folding her arms on the table. "Ask her to go for dinner." 

"Basic," Jessie remarked as she sat up and crossed her arms in disapproval. She frowned. "Plus that's too date-like." 

"Fine," Janine said curtly. "How about a hike?" 

Jessie hummed and hawed, unconvinced. "Maybe someday. Doesn't seem right at this point though." Janine rolled her eyes in exasperation.  

"Well, what did you two used to do back at UCLA?" 

Jessie shrugged. She saw the frustration Janine was telegraphing at how unhelpful she was being and jumped in. "We went to drop-in art classes sometimes." 

Janine held a hand up to the sky. "Thank you. Finally – something I can work with. Okay! Let's find a drop-in class for you two to go to then." She pulled out her phone and started browsing before shooting a look at Jessie as an aside. "Oh, and dinner's too date-llke, but an art class isn't? Okay." 

Jessie grunted and pulled out her phone as well to look.  

"Here," Jessie announced after a couple of minutes. "This'll work. She enjoyed painting." 

Without further consultation, Jessie began to type out a message to you. She bit back a laugh at how Janine's head was bobbing around periodically trying to peek at the message from across the table.  

"Don't send it yet! I want to see it," Janine pouted.  

"You are not writing my messages for me," Jessie told her pointedly, but gave a heavy sigh as she turned her phone for the blonde to see. An affronted look crossed Jessie face as Janine let out a guffaw and snatched the phone out of her hand.  

"No," Janine simply said with a wag of her finger before she started typing. Jessie reached out for the phone, but Janine turned her body away. Jessie clamored more, but stopped as soon as she noted some of their teammates glancing their way. She shrunk back into her seat, a hand rubbing the side of her face as she spoke in a harsh whisper.   "What are you doing." 

"Jeff. Relax. I would never lead you astray," Janine assured her. "And this is so very satisfying for me since I never got to help you with any of this during uni. Cause let me tell you, if I had been involved, you two definitely would've been living happily ever after." 

Jessie breathed in exasperation. "Please. Give me my phone back." 

"Okay, okay. Here," Janine said, all humour from her tone gone as she now offered Jessie a sincere smile. "Read it over, but I think this is good." 

Jessie gave her a lingering stare as she took back her phone and let out another withering sigh before reading.  

"Funny you should ask. I was thinking about how much I missed art classes together. How about I take you to one of the drop-in painting classes across town when I'm back from Houston?"  

Jessie lifted her gaze to meet Janine's and she studied the blonde for a few moments before relenting with an inaudible sigh. It was better than her original "I don't know. Paint class?" reply. She hit send and released another heavy breath as she tucked the phone away once more.  

"You're welcome," Janine said with a saccharine smile. Jessie gave her a fake smile in return, pulling a laugh out of the girl. "Hey, let's remember which one of us is engaged and which one of us is perpetually single." 

"Ouch," Jessie said with a light laugh.  

"I'm just teasing," Janine went on. "I genuinely hope this turns into something for you. Considering you've only come back into each other's lives, what, like a couple months ago? You two seem pretty solid already. And you seem happier." 

Jessie wanted to give a dry retort of some kind, but Janine was right. You two talked every day now and the chemistry you had in university was still very much present. And the depth you once had in your friendship was something that was quite easily and naturally being broached again. Even if you'd both grown and changed, the cores of who you were still aligned well and fit together. Too well. 

She'd more or less dismissed the spark of emotions that came up during your initial interactions as some sort of emotional muscle memory, but the feelings were proving to not be fleeting or diminishing.  

If anything, her feelings for you were growing. And this time they felt different, too. Heavier, deeper in some way. She was a more realized person now, as were you, and it made the connection between you more substantial. Less juvenile.  

Her phone buzzed. She opened her lock screen.  

"That sounds like a lot of fun! Let's do it." 

————

By the time your paint date night came around, Jessie was nearly buzzing with anticipation. It wasn’t an official date, of course, but she hadn’t seen you since that night after the game, and truthfully, it felt like it had been too long.

She was early - as usual - but as she rounded the corner to the building, she bit back a smile upon seeing you waiting. You were always early too, which she appreciated.

“Hey.” Jessie greeted as she approached. Again, she had to tamp her smile when you beamed back at her.

“Hey, good to see you,” you said as you stepped in for a hug, which Jessie reciprocated. “I love your shirt,” you continued when you stepped back.

“Oh,” Jessie said with a slight frown and a mild laugh as she looked down at herself in question. “Thanks,” she said as she gave a shrug and fought off a blush. She looked you up and down, not entirely discretely. “I like your outfit.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and gave her a look. “You don’t need to reciprocate my compliment. But thank you.”

“I legitimately like your outfit,” Jessie retorted, her pitch rising and pulling a laugh out of you as you both walked towards the building. Jessie took a few quick steps and grabbed the door, holding it open. “After you.”

“Such service. Thank you,” you said, both teasing and appreciative. Jessie didn’t wink, but she did give a teasing lift of her eyebrows as you passed.

As the instructor gave their directions for the lesson, Jessie found herself distracted, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye. The whole lesson carried on like that, really. Jessie had to make a point to not fall behind as she’d uncharacteristically lose concentration. The worst, well, best, moments being when she'd lean over feigning critical assessment of your work when really she just wanted to be close.

By the end, she was decently satisfied with the forest landscape she’d painted. However, she felt it paled in comparison to the ocean sunset you’d crafted.

“I love your colours. And the little cabin you added is great,” you told her as you were both leaving, canvases in hand.

“Well good,” she said as she got to a clearing on the sidewalk and stopped to turn to you. “Consider it my gift to you,” she went on as she held it out to you.

“Jessie,” you said sweetly with a smile as you took it and looked it over more thoroughly. “That’s really sweet. Thank you. It’s beautiful. And bonus - I get my Jessie Fleming signature, but on a far rarer painting as opposed to a jersey,” you laughed. “And what a coincidence. I painted this for you.”

Jessie looked at you for a moment before a smile broke out across her face as she belatedly took the painting you held out.

“Thank you,” she said softly as she studied the image. She frowned in realization as she lifted her eyes to you. “Is this the same beach from our photo?”

You nodded. “It is. Nice eye.”

“Who knew you were so sentimental?” Jessie teased.

“Apparently not you,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, but gave a small laugh. “Come on. It’s been a while, but you know me better than that.”

Jessie was quiet for a moment as she took you in. She eventually nodded. “I know.”

A small lull fell over you both before you asked. “So, what now? Do you have to leave?”

“No.” Jessie spoke quickly with a shake of her head. “I don’t have anywhere to be. How about you?”

You shook your head in return. “Same. Well, it’s beautiful out tonight. Want to just go for a walk? We can drop these off at my car first,” you proposed as you held up the painting.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

After a short detour, you both began your stroll along the quiet, tree-lined street.

“Thanks for suggesting that class,” you said. “I don’t really get to paint or pursue creative hobbies as much anymore. It was nice to make a point of it. I can’t imagine you have much of an opportunity to focus on things like that anymore, hm?”

Jessie sighed quietly in contemplation and gave a shrug.

“Not extensively, no. But we do lots of team building, so sometimes we’ll do artsy things. And I can do hobbies and such in my down time, whether during the week or between seasons.”

She looked over to see you giving her a soft smile.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing really. Just kind of crazy how everything turned out. You’ve achieved so much and your life is so impressive.”

Jessie was about to interject with a compliment for you, but you carried on.

“Are you happy with how things turned out?” You asked with a slight cock of your head.

“I-um, yeah.” Jessie stammered slightly, caught off guard by your question. “I mean, yeah it’s been incredible. More amazing than I could’ve ever pictured. And I know I’m very lucky.”

“You’re not lucky, Jess. You’ve worked exceptionally hard.”

She huffed lightly. “Yes, but luck is involved too. Lots of people work hard and still don’t get half the opportunities I’ve had.”

“I suppose,” you relented. “But you’ve made the most of those opportunities and haven’t taken them for granted.”

“That’s true. But look at you. You’ve worked so hard. And I know what you’ve been up against, but you’ve risen above and built a great life for yourself,” Jessie emphasized.

“Thank you,” you accepted with a half smile. Jessie knew the ins and outs of your family dynamics - something few people truly knew. You smiled more fully at her. “And look at us now. We both left LA and then found ourselves in the same city again and got to reconnect,” you finished with a laugh. "It sounds strange, but it really feels like in some ways like no time has passed. Not really, anyway. Like you and I were able to pick up where we left off."

You let out a quick sigh, giving a deep shrug as you did so. Your eyes remained trained on the ground as you two walked. "I mean, we talked the other week about my family and it just felt so different. Like, I've told recent friends or girlfriends my history and everything, and they listen and they 'get it', but it's not the same. That conversation with you – via text, no less – had more depth and weight than any comparable conversation with my exes or current friends. You were there. You know it – and me, I guess - inside and out. And even if I retell things, it's just not the same." 

Jessie nodded, watching you. It did feel like yesterday when she was sitting next to you on your bed, sobs wracking your body after one confrontation too many with your family. Normally, Jessie was so analytical and tentative about her physical contact with you, but the second you started crying she put her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned in, resting your head on your shoulder as she held you. That was the first time, but it wasn't the last.  

Looking back on it, maybe your girlfriends did have good reason to dislike her. 

"I know what you mean," she told you. "It's different. I mean, it's the same with you in a lot of ways. You were there for me during some critical points – big decisions in my life and you understood who I was and who I wanted to be." 

You smiled at her fondly. You looked ready to say something and Jessie waited. A moment passed and you exhaled, saying, "It really meant a lot – having you in my life and the support you gave me back then. I hope you know that." 

"I know," Jessie accepted with a smile of her own. "And likewise." 

Her mind drifted. She should probably just leave things be, but not speaking her mind is what held her back all those years before. She needed to share her thoughts and feelings if things were going to be different this time. She took a breath.  

"You know, I was really shocked when we saw each other here." She paused briefly. "I don't know. We hadn't talked in so long. I think I'd relegated myself to assuming we'd never see each other or ever talk again. Despite how important we were to one another at some point." 

Her statement seemed to give you pause, the mild surprise evident on your face. You eventually glanced down at the street as you two continued to walk. 

"Yeah. That's true, I guess," you conceded, your voice soft. 

Jessie studied you, unsatisfied with the response you gave. She pushed.  

"I knew we wouldn't be able to stay as close as we were. That was inevitable with us living so far away from one another, but I don't think I expected contact to fall apart as quickly as it did." You didn't reply right away and she went on with an ironic laugh. "We went from talking all day every day, to a few times a week with a video call scattered in there, to the odd message every couple of weeks, then just texts on birthdays and at Christmas, to nothing at all." 

She wasn't sure what she was anticipating, but she didn't expect you to turn to her with a perplexed frown.  

"Yeah. It did taper off pretty quickly."  

Despite the time that'd passed, Jessie still knew when you were telling half-truths. She gave a bit of an empty chuckle. "What else are you thinking?" 

You returned her laugh with a mild look. "I don’t know. I'm just kind of confused, I suppose." Jessie frowned.  

"About what?" She questioned. Faint alarm bells went off in her head when you stopped walking. She stilled her movements as well and you turned to one another on the sidewalk.  

You took a moment to gather your thoughts. You spoke with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. 

"I know it was me who stopped replying right away to messages – I don't deny that – but you weren't exactly giving me a lot to work with." You took a breath, dropping your shoulders before you spoke further. "Honestly? It was kind of feeling one-sided. Yeah, you replied, but a lot of your replies were brief and noncommittal. And when I asked if everything was okay you just told me you were busy. Which," you let out a slightly rueful laugh, "is absolutely fair. You were building this brand new, big life. Which is exactly what you were supposed to do. I don't begrudge you at all. I don’t know." You shrugged and averted your gaze momentarily. "I guess things just started to feel off." 

Jessie exhaled quietly as she processed your reply. What you were saying wasn't false. It had been so long it was easy for Jessie to just recall the end result – that you'd stopped replying altogether. That you'd given up on her; on the connection you'd both built for years. 

Standing here now though, if she was honest with herself, it was true that Jessie grew distant in her messages - purposefully so - knowing it would drive you away. What was she supposed to do? You two were never going to be together. And being friends was so incredibly hard sometimes because it was never just friendship for her. There was always this bittersweet feeling to everything and now that you were on completely different paths, there was an inevitable conclusion. Yet, she struggled to cut herself off cold. So instead, she took the coward's way out.  

Jessie scratched the back of her head. "I was busy," she repeated. She contemplated doubling down, but thought better of it. "And I guess I was finding it hard. We were building two very different lives." 

There was so much more she wanted to say, but she couldn't. What would be the point? Her chest panged when you gave her a sad smile.  

"I know," you accepted with a sadness in your eyes. "And I really wanted that for you. I just - it was hard to not feel like a nuisance. Like some obligation. So I just stopped writing."

Jessie's frown deepened. She knew all those years ago that she had to be hurting you, but she could lie to herself about it and focus selfishly on herself. Seeing you talk about it in front of her wasn't something she'd anticipated.

"I didn't mean for that," Jessie said. "And I never stopped caring about you," she compromised. 

"Yeah. I never stopped caring about you, either," you reciprocated in a subdued manner. Despite her role in everything, Jessie was still harbouring hurt from all those years prior and she felt compelled to push on. Sure, she'd pushed you away, but you'd let her. She erased you from her life little by little, day by day and you allowed it.

"Funny how quickly things change sometimes," Jessie went on. She didn't mean to scoff, but she did. "You didn't even tell me when you and [y/ex] broke up. You didn't even tell me you were having problems."  

In years past, Jessie was your sounding board for all your girl troubles. She remembered it well – it was painful. Having to hear you either swoon or – more often – complain about your girlfriends. Hearing how they disappointed or frustrated you when Jessie knew she could love you better. Just thinking back to it stoked a fire in Jessie's chest again. While she had genuinely loved you and cared about your well-being, she'd vowed to never get stuck in that dynamic again.  

You cracked a smirk. "It just seemed frivolous to bother you with something like that at that point." 

Another pang in Jessie's chest. "Well," she kicked idly at the concrete beneath her, "I would've been there for you if you ever needed me. I hope you knew that." 

You sighed and gave a hollow laugh as you pushed your hair back, causing Jessie to get momentarily distracted by the way the rays from the street light hit your face.  

"I know," you said quietly before meeting her gaze. "And I hope you knew the same about me. I know you're surrounded by people who love you, but," you shrugged listlessly, "I'd be there for you, too." 

Before Jessie could respond you gave her another smirk. 

"Besides. Though you never said anything explicit, I know you didn't like her. And by the end I could see why, too. No point wasting any of our limited conversation talking about her." 

Jessie bit back a smirk, but knew her eyes betrayed her. "Well, I guess that's poetic. Your girlfriends never liked me and I never liked them." 

Despite the mounting tension in your conversation, you laughed and gave her a nod. Jessie didn't return your laugh though. She gave you a solemn look. 

"You always deserved better than them. I know some of them were just fine, some of them even good, but they didn't seem earnest enough and they didn't love you enough." 

You were taken aback by her sudden proclamation. You opened your mouth to speak, but couldn't find the words.  

Jessie never understood how they didn't worship the ground you walked on. She practically did, even if she didn't show it. While those girls showed they cared through superficial acts like a generic bouquet of flowers, Jessie listened. In many ways. It was obvious to Jessie that they didn't really get you – not the way she did. And if they were so in tune with you, then why was it her you came to when things were hard or you were scared or even hopeful. If she'd been your girlfriend, she would've given you everything you needed and more. They clearly didn't. 

You eventually gave a soft huff and offered Jessie a quiet smile. 

"You've always been very observant. And very thoughtful. I get it now. There's a reason I'm single now. I don't want to settle anymore," you told her. 

Jessie was quiet before giving a nod of acceptance.  

"I'm glad to hear that." 

You both started walking again, though neither of you spoke right away. There was still a heaviness in the air, but it felt different now; hopeful.  

"I'm sorry for how things ended," you said as she glanced over at Jessie as you two strolled through the quiet street. "You've always been really important to me – regardless of whether we were in contact or not. I don't want to say that I wish things had been different, because I really don't see the point in regretting anything, but I will say I'm very grateful that we've had this chance to reconnect and rebuild." You paused. "I've really missed you. I didn't realize how much." 

"I'm really sorry, too," Jessie said, a smile spreading across her face. "And I agree – we can't change the past, but I also appreciate the chance to be friends again. I've missed you, too." 

She swallowed as she contemplated whether to add more. The lull that naturally formed told her to forge ahead.

"And you were never a nuisance or an obligation. I'm really sorry it came across that way."

"Awww, Jessie," you said in a teasing voice, lifting your conversation up again. You paused your steps and Jessie stopped and turned to you in question. "Come on," you beckoned as you waved her over and brought out your phone. "We need a new photo together." 

Jessie didn't fight it. Instead, she smiled at you and walked over to stand next to you. You leaned into her and Jessie found her hand naturally gravitated to your waist. It rest there before Jessie could even realize it, but before she could fret, you looked back at her with a smile before facing forward again. 

You took the photo and immediately opened up your messages with Jessie to send it to her. Jessie belatedly realized her hand was still on you and she pulled it back, holding her hands behind her. 

"There," you announced. "Now we can start rebuilding our collection. Portland memories – not just UCLA anymore." 

Jessie laughed and held up her phone, pointing the camera at you. 

"No, come on," you whined immediately and she laughed further.  

"Hey, this is part of the deal," she countered. You huffed, but eventually smiled for her. "Just remember. This goes both ways. I get new photos of you, too." 

She found herself giving you a wink. "I'll allow it."  

A/N: Part Four is available here.

[redeyerhaenyra]

perv neighbor basil smut im begging u

Perv!Neighbour Basil finds your camgirl account

Summary: Basil is your neighbour, and after having formed a parasocial relationship with you, he finds your camgirl account. Things get.. a little out of hand.

Warnings: Oh man this one is filthy- Stalking, Parasocial relationships, m masturbation, cum tribute, professional sex work, cumming untouched, jealously, crying, like alot of crying, sextoy use, f reader

Notes: Myself and @ominoose have been bouncing this headcanon around in the dms for a bit and I finally have the opportunity to write it! I hope you like it baby tysm for requesting xx I really got carried away like this is SO LONG my goodness- This can be read as a part 2 to this fic but can also be enjoyed standalone x

Basil has been watching you for a while

You're his neighbour, you moved in to the flat opposite him a couple months ago, and the only verbal interaction you'd had with him was a polite introduction through his letterbox when he wouldn't open the door

You hadn't seen him at all, physically. He'd seen you though.

Oh had he seen you

His heart swelled every morning and evening he'd watch you leave and come home from work, nights out, trips to the shop, ect

His relationship to you, practically non-existent as it were, at least from your perspective, was... complicated

Half of Basil understood you two were already dating, loyal to one another. The other half of him understood that that was a fantasy, and he often found himself caught between the two realities

Poor Basil so desperately wants the untruth to become the truth. He wants to kiss you, profess his love, have it be your hand tugging him off instead of his own every night

But since the... accident, he wouldn't dare let you see him. You'd never accept him- no one would. He was a monster

Poor baby, so insecure 😔

Eventually, jerking off whilst peering at you through the letterbox whenever you enter or exit your home isn't enough. He needs to see you, properly. Stare at your beautiful face and take in all it's contours and shapes without having to have you do the same to him

And so.. he goes online.

He knows your name- you'd told him when you'd tried to be a nice neighbour and say hi, and so with a little sleuthing, he finds your Instagram

Basil spends hours pouring through your every photo, getting wildly jealous and crying (yes he cries poor baby) when he sees photos with other men, and roughly pulling on his cock until its red and raw, having cum so many times over his thighs and chest.

He becomes even more obsessed, his need to see you covered in his cum in some way or another becomes an vital as eating and drinking

He starts printing out your photos and cumming on them- considers laminating them so he can wipe them clean and go all over again

But then what about keeping them covered? Forever staining you with his seed? He can't pick

One day, when he's going about his ritual of jerking it to your insta, he finds a new link in your bio;

"18+ site! Adult only content! Click here❤️"

That perks his interest

Sure he's not stranger to porn, or camgirls, what with all the time he spends alone watching porn, but you? He'd never have assumed.

Basil's heart races, and his dick twitches beneath his sweats

Tentatively, he clicks on the link

Your website looks professional, all properly set up

The first thing he sees is a trailer video- and oh boy

He literally cannot stop the sudden, untouched orgasm flooding through him when he sees the sneak peak you've put together of your content

He's so loud moaning and whining, tears well up again in his eyes becuase he's so sensitive but he needs more

This teaser video of you playing with your nipples and rubbing your tiny pussy through your panties isn't enough

And so, Basil goes to your subscription page. Immediately gets the highest sub deal, he doesn't care if he can't afford it. He needs you so much he'd bankrupt himself if he had to

The benefits of this subscription are many; He gets access to your work DM, he gets two video calls with you a week, and he gets to request some content from you.

Basil couldn't not be happier, he even forgts about his facial insecurity when a few minutes later he sees a message from you pop up on his notifs;

"Hi baby! Thankyou so so much for becoming one of my top donors! It really does mean the world x"

He forces himself to respond, anxiety creeping up his shoulder;

"Yeah np love your work."

Jesus he didn't mean to come off so dickish

You quell his feelings of worry with a smiley emoji, and ask him "So, what's with the username? "Lightningface"?"

He gulps. "I just like lightning is all."

"It is such a pretty phenomenon."

Pretty.. you'd called it pretty. The thing that had maimed him, his deformity... might you have called that pretty too?

"Soooo you're due to request some content from me! What would you like?"

And honestly, Basil isn't sure

Anything you'd give him, he'd take

"I don't mind."

"Are you sure? It is your request that you've paid me for, you can ask for whatever you like!"

Basil really thinks for a moment. A real head scratcher.

"Can you say my name?"

Basil doesn't realise how possessive he sounds

"Sure can!"

"Can it be my irl name?"

"Of course! What is it?"

The man holds his breath as he responds; "Basil. Like the herb."

"Omg!!! That's such a cute name!"

He giggles to himself, you're so fucking adorable he loves you so much

You tell him you'll make his request into a segment during your next livestream

He's jealous, he doesn't want you performing for anyone else.. but like I said, he'll take what he can get

Most of the time until his segment of your livestream he spends crying and jerking off in a strange cycle.

You're his, you shouldn't be showing off.. he feels like you've betrayed him. But at the same time you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen

Poor Basil is so conflicted

Finally, however, his request segment begins

You smile sweetly at the camera, and wave

"So, next up, I have a request from one of my top donors, he has such a cute name! Said he didn't mind what I did so I think i'm gonna surprise him~"

You reach to the side, pulling forth a clear silicone dildo

It's big. Basil gulps, could you take it? What if it hurt you?

You place it beneath you on your bed and slowly tease it between your folds, having already discarded all your clothes at this point

Basil chokes, his worn out cock stirring to life again

And then.. oh then..

You moan out his name, slowly sinking yourself onto the sextoy

Basil moans with you, and figures you must have an expensive microphone because the sounds coming from the screen are all but blasphemous

He loses himself to the rhythmic squelching of your cunt and your moans of his names

He cums so quickly, and there's so much of it, all over his chest

Poor baby whimpers, trying desperately to coax his poor dick back to life, not wanting to have finished so quickly

He wanted to last longer for you..

Luckily you finish not too long after him, he wants to swallow all of your sounds with his mouth

He's never seen such perfection

Glistening with sweat and panting, satisfied, you address the camera for the final time that night;

"I hope you enjoyed Basil, again thankyou so much for donating, I love you all so much, goodnight!"

You end the stream, Basil is plunged back into the dark loneliness of his flat

He sits for a few moments, taking in what just happened..

He soon finds himself looking at wedding rings online

[quitealotofsodapop]

Mei is both proud and very unhappy with the grounding. True, she didn't know her little buddy was actually Sun Wukong's son until about ten minutes ago, but her parents got to meet her little brother figure, and they think he's adorable! Wukogn makes sure to warn them of potential baby layers, tho, new powers and all. Luckily, that's not something new to the Ao Long household considering how Mei holds a certain Ring.

That conversation has to be one of the msot awkward Wukong has ever had up to that point tho, calling up Ao Lie's great granddaughter to tell her that her daughter, whom she hadn't even realized knew him, had gotten his son, who nobody even knows he has, into a bit of trouble and now DBK is free and all the parents to the kids involved in freeing him are coming together for a tea party to figure out, essentially, what's next.

Wukong, astral projecting: Hello, yes, Mrs. Long? Lovely to speak face to face, I knew your grandfather you know, but that's not why I'm calling. Um, so it's about your daughter.

Yi Li: What!?

Wukong, getting nervous: Uh... yeah, see, she and my kid have gotten pretty close. Mr. Tang is his tutor, you see, and they tend to have their lessons at the Noodle Shop she works at. Well, I let Mei take my little Xiaotian out with her for some of her delivery runs aaaand... next thing I know, the Demon Bull King is free.

Ye Li, already suspecting: Oh no... dont tell me, it was her!?

Wukong: From what I understand of the events, she was pretty involved and stuff... so do you mind coming over for some tea with me and the Demon Bull Family so we can kinda... figure out our next steps? They've called a bit of a truce for now after meeting my kid.

Ye Li: Of course! Just give us a few minutes to clear our schedule and we'll be right over... oh and please tell my daughter she's grounded.

Wukong: Alright then! See you there! *turns to unseen person as he begins to fade out* Hey Mei your mom says-

prev post. @soniclozdplove;

+an earlier ask;

Ao Yi and Long Cháo have long accepted that their baby girl is a lot more... firey than a normal water dragon pup. But they never believed in locking her up or forcing her to suppress her boundless energy.

So when Mei came to them wanting to get a part-time job as a delivery job so she could have "real life" experience, they were fully supportive.

They think it's really cute how she's bonded with her boss and some of the regulars. Mei especially mentions a little demon monkey named MK who's obsessed with the Monkey King, and is about to become a big brother. The Ao-Long's only met MK and "Mr Qi" once when they decided to visit Mei at her work. The little boy was so excited about going to school and becoming a big brother - even though "she's taking a long time." Mr Qi just laughed and explained that he was a little overdue. The dragon couple thought the two were an adorable parent and child, but Ao Yi swears she recognises Mr Qi from somewhere...

Wukong, astral projecting in: "Heeeeyyyy Mrs Long." Ao Yi: "Sun Wukong? Why, I haven't seen you since I was a pup. What brings you here today?" Wukong, stalling a bit: "Well it's about Mei- she's not in trouble don't worry! Well maybe a little in trouble... she was doing a delivery when she and her little stowaway came across my Staff and DBK's resting site. Iron Fan and Red Son included." Ao Yi, going pale: "She didn't." Wukong: "She didn't - but Red Son did. And then MK managed steal it off of him. Mei grabbed him and bolted before any fighting could happen but they got chased." Ao Yi, frustrated and worried: "Oh sweet- Cháo! Our daughter somehow helped release an ancient demon king!" Long Cháo, running in: "Is she ok!?" Wukong: "Oh yeah she's fine. Nobody got hurt. DBK was a lot more forgiving once he properly met MK-" Long Cháo, piecing together the lore: "Wait isn't that the same MK who gets tutored by Mr Tang? Isn't Mr Qi... pregnant?" Ao Yi, raises brow at Wukong: "Yes. Yes he is." Wukong, laughing nervously: "HAHA! Yeah! Surprise! I uh... have a kid and one on the way. Long story." Ao Yi: "Great-Grandfather did say you had an Egg with you throughout the Journey. I had assumed he was rambling, but this explains so much..." Wukong: "Yeah, I've been keeping it a secret for a long time. Ao Lie was always so protective of me... Anyway, my dao isn't so great right now so I need to wrap this call up. You guys wanna meet up or something to talk about this in-person? I just want my Xiaotian to know some folks connected to the "old gang" now that his powers are developing. Plus DBK needs a lot of history filled in for him." (*the dragon couple share a look and smile*) Ao Yi: "I see no issue in having a few lunch meetings. It's not every day I get to talk about Great-Grandfather's journey." Long Cháo: "Xiaojiao is grounded though, right?" Ao Yi: "Without a doubt."

The familys (+occassionally Tang, Pigsy, and Sandy) start meeting up for brunch afterwards. Ao Yi and PIF are glamourous girl besties the second they meet, and their husbands bond over their difficulties in courting them. Wukong is glad to have people to hang out with outside of FFM, and to rebuild the relationship with his brother and sister-in-law.

Mei house sits the day the parents are all out for dinner. Red Son is still trying to take over the city in a misguided effort to make his parents proud, so attempted sword-theft still occurs and Mei's own dragon abilities start erupting. MK yells with joy at his bestie being a fellow "Superhero!". Red Son gets grounded.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

ngl ever since i learned that rook might intern as an archeologist to explore ruins (which is crazier when you realize the world of twisted wonderland is very mysterious and fantastical; i'm sure those ruins are genuinely dangerous) i totally see him as someone who'll just get shadier and more strange over time. i wouldn't be surprised if he ends up with an energy similar to Undertaker from Black Butler or one of those shady magical pawn shop owners that knows way too much and has a million secrets. like, he's ALREADY like that and he's just a 18 year old boy, just imagine the menace he'll be someday--i can't even imagine where Jade will end up as well.

Eh, I'm sure he'll fiiiine in whatever ruins and archeological sites he ends up at it's Rook, I'm pretty sure the dangers out there are afraid of him instead of the other way around/j 🙃 I definitely feel like Rook won't be growing out of his eccentricness anytime soon. He's going around collecting more and more secrets every day at NRC already; the difference now is that he has just changed locations and is now being paid to do it. When he comes back for graduation day, he'll be Too Powerful...

As for Jade, maybe he can use his internship to learn more about the mountains and/or the land flora and fauna?? He could also look into magic pharmaceuticals, since he excels in that subject. They seem to be special interests of his--though he does hate to be bored, so I see him maybe doing something different each semester of internship (there's three max, I believe; you can take on a different one each semester or decide to stay at the same one). I think he'd learn a lot of valuable information that could help with expanding the "Leech family business" and connections to the land, as well as supplementing the business with knowledge of untraceable poisons :)) I could also see Jade taking up much less conspicuous internships where he's in more of a supportive role so as to not draw attention to himself, or just in a powerful enough position where he can collect useful information while maintaining his facade. Some kind of business-oriented or information collecting role where he's handling sensitive information (like client files?), maybe.

I'm not sure if TWST plans on progressing time to this extent in-game (maybe the next main story arc will be the following school year?), but I would love to see the third years as fourth years and the second and first years moving up a grade! (Plus incoming first years!) Then we can get new students, dorm leaders and vice dorm leaders being succeeded, and see old favorites going on their own internships and graduating 😭 I'm super interested in seeing the life and career directions each student takes, especially since we've gotten bits and pieces hinted to us in voice lines and vignettes. (For example, Riddle's mom wants him to pursue medicine, but Riddle has also expressed interest in law due to his time at school; Azul seems to have an interest in law and/or business but also hospitality, as he runs the Mostro Lounge.) Where each person decides to go and what they want to do can tell us a lot about their character and their ambitions, and it can also open up avenues for exploration and growth. (Kalim is going to inherit the Asim family business, but has also expressed before that he feels he isn't mature enough as he is now; Cater isn't quite sure what he wants to get into yet, since he's so used to putting on a cheery "mask" around other people, etc.) There's tons of interesting possibilities! (Imagine NRC's class reunions 10 years down the line though??? Their roster would be so stacked with important and influential people in a variety of fields and specialties.)

[myemuisemo]

The fiery bowels of hell are the setting for chapters VIII and IX of The Valley of Fear, in the two most recent Letters from Watson -- or, it's Pennsylvania.

Referring to "this most desolate corner of the United States of America" as of 1875 made me think first of Pittsburgh, but that's not possible, as Pittsburgh's steel industry didn't start until that year. This place in the grimy folds of the Allegheny mountains has been going for a while.

My heart says that the Vermissa Valley is an expy of the Wyoming Valley in the northeastern part of the state, where there is a string of towns from Carbondale at the northern end, through Scranton and Wilkes-Barre, down to Nanticoke. The iron furnaces of Scranton, Grant, and Company had the largest production in the United States in 1865, according to the Anthracite Museum. This is anthracite coal-mining territory, as well: the hardest, blackest, and purest grade of coal.

(Had I known I'd be reading this novel in 2024, I'd have made a point of visiting the Anthracite Museum when I went to Scranton in 2019. I was mostly there for the Steamtown National Historic Site, the massive railroad museum.)

The little single-line railroad could be any of a number of lines, since the Scranton area was the birthplace of railroading and very heavily served. It's possible that the train is a narrow-gauge line, better designed for handling mountains.

Given the meanness and muddiness of the settlement where the twinkling-yet-threatening John McMurdo stops, it's probably not Scranton: that had already passed 35,000 in population by 1875. Wilkes-Barre was a bit above 10,000, which still seems large. Of course, the point of the Wyoming Valley is that there is an almost continuous string of little towns, and we don't know why McMurdo wants any one town more than another.

The presence of a Market Square in chapter IX doesn't indicate much, as that was a common design wherever Connecticut settlers had perched -- which includes Wilkes-Barre, the site of the post-Revolutionary War scuffle between the states of Connecticut and Pennsylvania, known as the Penn-Yan Wars. ("Connecticut sea-to-sea" is also why Ohio has a Western Reserve where the towns look straight out of New England. The Nutmeggers calmed down before getting west of Ohio, though.)

By 1875, the Wyoming Valley was loaded with Germans, Irishmen, and Welshmen, all jostling for mining work that was, in the aftermath of the Panic of 1873, increasingly ill-paid. It was thus a scene of great industry but not great happiness.

I'm not sure what Doyle has in mind for the shacks with verandas lining the streets, so I'll just share an example of an 1876 "company town" house from New Haven, Connecticut. The big factories build tons and tons of these. At one point in the 1990s, I lived in one (not this one). This sort of house typically has three bedrooms on the second floor, a little bedroom off the dining room on the first floor, and enough space for two bedrooms in the attic. So you could squeeze a boarding house in here.

With the boarding house comes the landlord's beautiful daughter. Poor Ettie! She can't get McMurdo to leave her alone, nor can she shed her other suitor. Did she have friends among the daughters and wives of her neighbors, or is she another rose blooming alone in harsh soil?

The Eminent Order of the Freemen are presumably expies of the Freemasons: I guess if the members are going to be dreadful in an organized way, it's necessary to invent a pound-shop knock-off (though the Mormons certainly didn't get that courtesy in A Study in Scarlet).

We're still in the era when fraternal organizations were vital in giving a man entry into society in a new place. You might know no one -- but if you knew the secret handshake, you were instantly provided with friends and business partners. The Welsh Philanthropic Order of True Ivorites was present in the Wyoming Valley; and of course, Odd Fellows were everywhere. (Throw a stone in an old mining town in the U.S., and you'll hit an Odd Fellows Hall. it'll often be one of the oldest buildings still standing.)

The fact that the Freemen's lodge leader is called the Bodymaster -- I assume this is supposed to sound menacing, but it has the ridiculous feel of something the Clampers would have come up with. Yes, fraternal orders were so popular that there was a parody version formed in the 1850s: E Clampus Vitus. The Clampers faded, with the rest of the fraternal movement, after the 1870s -- only to rise again in the 1930s and establish their mission as preserving local history in the West. So many an historic monument in small-town Caliornia has E Clampus Vitus on its plaque as the sponsor.

Since the Bodymaster is excited about making counterfeit currency, I feel this secret society will not be as fun as the Clampers. Having a side line in murdering people, as the Scowrers, also is not quite a gentleman's work.

I'm presuming McMurdo is Douglas, so he's going to get the girl and not get killed -- but something else will surely go very, very wrong.

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

Ninjago post crystalized HC

-Therapy (I was considering only writing that and posting lol)

-Everyone starts finally settling down and a couple of the ninja are even looking into college courses since a lot of their technical skills revolve around fighting and they're kinda sick of that.

-I like to think Jay and Nya open up a mechanic shop together with some silly name like Electric Wave or something along those lines.

-Pixal starts working with Cyrus Borg again

-I think Zane should be an EMT or something like that, since he can asses wounds and work really quickly and has endless knowledge in his database so I think it fits

-Cole probably takes a bit to figure out what he wants to do but I could honestly see him going into psychology since he's pretty empathetic and a chill dude (bestie literally made friends with a snow monster and some dude who'd been a ghost for centuries I think he's got the skill)

-Kai was kinda hard ngl but I think that since he's seemingly ending up with Skylor maybe he helps out at the noodle house? Honestly I'm not sure Kai is tricky for me.

-Lloyd goes into law to some degree, HERE ME OUT, he totally seems like the type who still wants to defend innocents and those who have been wronged and what better way to do that (that doesn't involve ninja powers) I could totally see him fighting so hard for like kids and stuff since his childhood was pretty jacked up too.

-Wu and Misako probably start adventuring again, though more for fun and not looking for answers to anything, it's just to learn more about the world.

-I think it would be funny if Garmadon got a painfully mundane job in an office, like a data entry person or some shit like that would be so funny (like imagine "Oh you need that done? Yeah go ask Folson" and then you find out "Folson" is fucking GARAMDON who's just like chilling at his desk with coffee like "What do you want?")

-Lloyd reconnects with some of his old friends and while they're still a little bedazzled by him but still

-The ninja probably do a couple interviews after Crystalized kinda finally sharing how they really feel and people are shocked how scared their hero's have been this entire time.

-The ninja totally compare scars, like "Dude I got my face scar from literally being turned into a ghost, it's cooler than yours" or "Are lightning scars cool if I accidentally did it myself?"

-Lloyd starts reconnecting with his father again and slowly but surly the man Garmadon once was begin to shine through bit by bit, not fully but clearly he's there.

-Cole helps with reconstruction once his powers start coming back

-They all meet up when they can to do something fun together

-In addition to the last prompt: Sometimes they need to get some energy out and they're like "I need to fight" and they get together to absolutely pummel each other to get the fight out until the next time (Zane has totally recorded a couple of these fights, a particularly flasy one between Kai and Cole is in fact on the internet and people go nuts over it)

-They all pick up hobbies to relax a little: Kai-wood burning Lloyd-felting Zane-baking (he still does it to wind down) Cole-crocheting Nya-knitting (her and Cole fight over which is better by) Jay-skating Pixal-drawing

-Garmadon get's more plants, him and Vinny's new place has the nicest front and back garden and the oxygen in their house is CRISP

-Cyrus Borg kinda adopts Zane like "I already have one nindroid child, what's one more?" they totally have family dinners and I'd like to imagine Pixal's partner (idk who but it's not Zane cause like sibling dynamic> anything) and Cole just kinda siting there with three super geniuses and the two are just like "I forget what I have for lunch sometimes"

-Everyone starts to heal and the world is better... at least until this new show (whether I think of it as cannon is dependent on how much I like it lol)

That's it for now, I will be back, that's a promise and a threat :)

[hyuge]

Baby Daddy

Camie and Bakugou dated for a bit in high school but quickly realized it wasn't going to work and broke it off mutually. They stayed friends afterwards, no biggie. Several years later, Camie shows up at Bakugou's doorstep because she's pregnant and the dad didn't want anything to do with it. She wants to keep the baby but she's freaking out and needs someone more levelheaded than she is to talk to. Bakugou, who actually really loves kids, tells her he's gonna help her out the whole way through. He agrees not to go murder the asshole that would bail on her but he's pissed so he is just going to channel that energy into being the best fucking uncle that kid'll ever have.

Meanwhile, Kirishima is finally working up the nerve to confess his many years long crush on Bakugou. He tells himself he's finally going to do it. Bakugou hasn't really dated anyone in a long time, they're both established in their careers, they spend all their time together already, and then he gets a call from Bakugou.

"I need to tell you something but you have to keep it to yourself. It's really important that this doesn't get around."

Kirishima smiles and says, "Yeah, sure. Anything for you."

And then Bakugou tells him that Camie is at his apartment and she's pregnant. Kirishima drops his phone in a panic, heart racing. He knew Camie and Bakugou were still close and that he never really dated anyone after her. He just assumed they were just friends. Bakugou said the breakup was mutual. But was it really? had bakugou lied about it to save face and the reason he hadn't dated anyone up to this point was because he still had feelings for her? But then if they were back together, why wouldn't Bakugou have told him? Kirishima scrambles to pick up the phone but he can't think straight, so he doesn't hear anything else Bakugou is saying. "I'm sorry. I gotta go."

"What? Kirishi-"

He hangs up the phone. Kirishima has a meltdown thinking he waited too long and missed his chance.

Bakugou can't get ahold of him for awhile after that. He's pissed, but he pushes it aside because he promised to help Camie and he still has hero work to do. So he does the things her boyfriend should have. He takes her to the doctor, helps her pick out baby stuff, makes sure she's eating the proper meals a pregnant woman needs.

At one point Camie slips going down the stairs and Bakugou calls Todoroki. He tells him to bring his brother over because they need a doctor and he's not taking Camie to the ER where there's a bunch of nosy fuckers. Natsuo looks her over, says she's okay but if anything starts to hurt or feel off to give him a call. Bakugou tells Camie to move in with him until the baby comes. His place is bigger and this way he can keep an eye on her better. She's annoyed but agrees. Meanwhile, Bakugou still can't get ahold of Kirishima.

When Kirishima finally answers the phone he laughs awkwardly and makes an excuse about work being busy. Bakugou tells him that Camie's moving in and asks if he can help move stuff. Kirishima says he can't because he's busy that day (a lie).

Eventually, they're spotted baby shopping. Photos of them buying a crib and looking at baby clothes are plastered all over the internet. Bakugou never checks skeezy news sites, but Camie googles herself daily. The headlines are already twisted:

"IllusoMight having a baby?" "Pro Hero Dynamight and Pro Hero IllusoCamie spotted baby shopping!" "...sources say Dynamight and IllusoCamie dated in high school. It would seem their breakup wasn't as permanent as people thought!"

Camie yells for Bakugou from the other room. "Hey babe, I think you should look at this." Before he can even see what she's yelling about, his phone is ringing. Denki's name is on the screen when Bakugou answers.

"You're having a baby?!"

"What the fuck are you on about, sparks for brains?"

"It's all over the news. Pictures of you and Utsushimi baby shopping." Bakugou curses and rushes to the other room. Camie's holding her phone up with the screen facing him. "Why didn't you tell us you two were back together?"

"We're not," Bakugou growls. "I'm just helping her out because some asshole knocked her up and bailed."

"Were you the asshole?"

"Shut up." Bakugou hangs up the phone and collapses onto the sofa next to her.

Camie makes a joke about how the photos were pretty good candid shots. He glares at her and she sighs, holding her arms out for him to cuddle. Bakugou rests his head on her stomach and feels the baby kicking his face. He's so mad because fuck those shitty paparazzi, and the one person he wants to talk to the most isn't answering the phone.

He decides to try calling Kirishima again. After the third attempt, he picks up the phone. "Hey. I can't really talk I'm-"

"Busy. I know." Bakugou interrupts. His voice cracks.

"Hey. Hey, what's wrong?"

Bakugou sighs. "Can you come over? Please?"

There's a long pause before Kirishima finally answers with an, "Okay. I'll be there in twenty."

When Kirishima finally shows up he looks around the apartment before asking, "Where's Utsushimi?"

Bakugou waves him inside the apartment. "In her room, resting."

"Her room?"

Bakugou narrows his gaze at him. "Yeah, her room."

Kirishima has a confused look on his face, but shakes his head, deciding not to say whatever it is that was on his mind. "So, what's going on?"

Bakugou sits on the armrest of his sofa and sighs in defeat. "It's this whole pregnancy thing. I guess word started to spread."

"Oh," says Kirishima. "I know you wanted to keep a secret. I'm sure it's hard having a baby as a pro hero when you're not married."

"Mm. Camie seems more chill about it than expected. I think it helps that everyone online is saying how she's glowing. As if she couldn't make herself glow begin with." He rolls his eyes.

Kirishima nods slowly. "What about you? A baby's a huge change. That's gotta be hard."

"S'not like it's really my responsibility."

Kirishima actually looks mad about that for some reason. "Of course it's your responsibility! How could you say something so flippant when you're about to be a dad?"

"What?"

"You're having a baby but you're saying it's not your responsibility," explains Kirishima.

"I'm not having a fucking baby."

"What?" This time it was Kirishima's turn to be confused.

"Did you not hear anything I said to you on the phone before?"

"Um..." Kirishima's cheeks flushed red and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I told you some asshole knocked her up and ditched. I'm just helping her out."

Kirishima's eyes grow rounder than Bakugou had ever seen them before. "So... You're not having a baby?"

"No."

"And you're not back together with Utsushimi?"

"No."

"And you're not still in love with her?"

"Hell. Fucking. No."

And then Kirishima is so visibly relieved that without thinking he reaches for Bakugou and pulls him into a kiss, startling him, but he doesn't fight it. They straighten out their feelings after that, and of course because Camie is Camie, she had the whole thing recording in a livestream to clear up any and all internet confusion on whether or not Dynamight was her baby daddy.

[littlemisslipbalm]

Demonology: Me & My Dog

Series Summary: A new demon has come to Nashville. Josh and Jake's ways of life have been thrown off by her arrival. The angel and demon have lived with an understanding of one another, but with Y/N stirring up trouble and asking questions, they're forced to work out a new normal. And why is she so powerful for a human turned demon anyway, that's unusual, right?

Jake Kiszka x f!reader and Josh Kiszka x f!reader

A/N: This will be at least three parts! This first part is more about Josh and the reader, the second will be more Jake and then we will see with part 3 what is to happen. Please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs and messages to my inbox!! I want to talk about this bc I have been so excited to share it!!

Word Count: 5.4k | Warnings: alcohol consumption, strong language, allusions to sex - minor descriptions of sex but not descriptive smut (still 18+!!), dubious comprehension of angel/demon mythology, like this is fiction fr so if it does not make sense i am sorry but idc (but am also open to suggestions thx)

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Part 1: My & My Dog

When being told to stir up some trouble on Earth, Y/N was more annoyed that she had to go back at all than excited that she was moving up in the ranks. Afterall, she’d only died 50 years ago. It was already time to go back? She thought she had eternity down here. 

From what she’d heard from other members of the underworld, it’d just gotten worse since she’d left. Prior to 1976 had been a riot for her (1976 was not her favorite, but dying usually wasn’t in people’s top ten greatest moments), but now it sounds worse than Hell itself.  

Still, like a good little demon soldier, she trudged through the dim back rooms to find the dull office that would provide her with the necessary documents to take a corporeal form and inhabit the physical sphere for an extended period of time. 

“Can I bring my dog?” She asks, kicking at a piece of garbage on the floor. It littered the entire ground around her feet. 

“Dog?” The servant of hell inquired. 

“Chupacabra,” She corrects.

“Sure,” Their eyes raise from filling out the paperwork to the little animal beside her. “Extra form you need to both sign. Says he’ll suck the blood of at least five animals per earthly week while he’s there. We don’t do ESAs here.”  

“Fab,” She sighed in relief and scratched behind the ears of her dog that she had re-encountered shortly after arriving in Hell. 

The chupacabra placed his paw in some mysterious blood that had formed in the pewter catch-all dish sitting beside the papers and then pushed it onto the form. Signed, sealed and soon to be delivered. They were getting out of Hell. 

-

When she materialized on Earth, she wasn’t sure where she was exactly. The home office didn’t give that information, you just had to figure it out yourself. She had been hoping for her hometown of Los Angeles or another major city center she’d never been to before. Maybe London or Tokyo would be a fun change of pace. 

After walking what felt like 20 miles, but was probably half of that given that she wasn’t used to physical legs anymore, she came upon a sign as to where she was. A mural to be exact. 

It had only been woods and fields for the first half, but then there were more buildings. Coffee shops, bagel shops and something that was called a ‘Vape’ shops. Everything advertised themselves as historic music sites. But it wasn’t until 1504 Demonbreun St. that she fully ascertained she was in the heart of Nashville, Tennessee. 

“Welcome to Nashville”

“Fuck yeah,” She smiled. A friend back in the day had been from here and told her about it a few times. It wasn’t a major capital city or home, but it was a city alright. And where there was nightlife, she was sure there could be trouble. 

She spent the rest of the day checking around her surroundings. Finding the place Hell had given her to lodge in. It wasn’t much but she remembered earthly delights and planned to spruce it up, give it a vibe. She wrote a note on the wall with a deep red pen she had brought with her a list of items she needed. Couch, rug, bed, posters, an electric guitar and lots of wine and clothes. The ink dripped down the wall and she smiled, swiping at it and placing it to her lips. 

She passed the rest of the daylight hours with great displeasure for the living people around her who barely seemed to notice her. Not that she looked any different than them, but it just bothered her that no one was as friendly as when she’d last been here. No one bothered to say ‘hello’, all they did was stare or talk into their rectangular devices she had realized were portable telephones half way through the day. 

Broadway St. seemed to be the place Y/N thought she’d find the most possible trouble. It was lit up like the Sunset and if it weren’t for all the horribly dressed people surrounding her, she would’ve felt right at home. 

At one of the bars, she got free shots from the bartender with a flash of her eyes. From the regular dark brown iris, they flashed an entire eternal glassy black. He smiled dreamily in the abyss and walked away after she winked at him. She swung back the shots and made her way to the dance floor. 

Raising her hands above her head, she began to dance. Her black lace dress hugged her curves and shifted with her. Her silver jewelry glinted dangerously as she moved. The lights in the bar shifted to stay red instead of the flashing multi-colors that had bothered her when she entered. She moved her hips to the music and slowly it transformed from a poppy song she didn’t know to Led Zeppelin. 

Robert Plant’s voice got everyone dancing the way they should and the vapes transformed into cigarettes and she smiled to herself feeling alive for the first time in a long time. Maybe being back wasn’t so bad. She drank more and danced more and saw people getting drunk and making out in corners and thought debauchery worked as trouble. Job done for the day. 

She relaxed into the sway of the music, writhing around like a snake as her skin grew dewey with perspiration. A tug at her arm brought her out of her euphoric state. All night she had made sure no one would bother her, but whoever this was didn’t seem to follow her rules. 

She opened her eyes, fully black once more as she stared at who was holding her wrist. She tugged back but his hold was secure. He pulled her to the side of the dancefloor, a space conveniently opening up. 

“Get your hands off me! What the fuck, man?”

“You can’t be here,” He spoke calmly. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. He had on a white plain t-shirt and light wash jeans, with opalescent beads hanging around his neck. His eyes were an oddly familiar light brown. His hair was shaved on the sides, creating a sort of mullet that she mildly appreciated if he hadn’t been so rude as to pull her away from her fun. That mullet exposed the golden earrings in his pointy ears. 

There was something different about him. None of it was in his physical form but she felt it, vibrating and extending around him. As if he had invisible light passing around and through him even in the dark dingy bar lighting. 

“Says who?” She finally tugged her arm free from his hold and crossed her arms across her chest, pressing her breasts up in the process. 

His eyes flicker to the movement before pressing his lips into a thin line “Says me.” 

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “And you are?” 

“Joshua. I protect this town," he says. He wrings his hands around the gold bracelets on his wrists. “You can’t come into these bars and just mess with everything about them. It’s wrong.” 

“Yes I can, Josh,” She smirks. “I’m a demon as you clearly already can tell. I can do whatever I want.” 

“Oh my God,” Josh sighs, exasperated already. “There’s already a demon here.” He knew the other one quite well and was at least able to keep him in check. A newcomer would mean more work. 

She shrugged. “Not my problem, angel. Hell sent me up here, guess they’re not happy with the other one’s performance.” 

She moved to go back to the bar for another drink when Josh looked like he was a million miles away. He’d really killed her buzz. Josh’s mentioning of another demon made her stop and ask as an afterthought: “What’s this other demon’s name?” 

“Jacob–er, uh, Jake,” Josh corrects himself. He hadn’t gone by Jacob since, well, since before, even if Josh wished he could just call him Jacob. 

“Groovy.” Her smile is wicked, her lips painted a red so deep it resembled dried blood. “Displeasure meeting you, angel. Come find me if you ever want to have a real good time.” She kissed his cheek before disappearing behind a group of people. 

-

Two weeks later, Y/N was seated on a bench in the park with her legs kicked up. She looked like she was a dead body–which more or less, she was, but the way she was sitting was unusual for someone who was supposedly alive. Her dog was perched unnaturally along the backrest, soaking in the sun he had missed. They looked out of place. 

She had come out in the midday to see if she could start any fights in the park. She’d quickly learned that malfunctions with their little handheld phones really upset the modern humans so she liked to mess with wifi and electrical connections every odd day or so just to keep up the no-good work. 

Her black RayBans covered her eyes as they surveyed the green grass for potential targets for a bit of a row. She sat as far away from the people as possible, so she had enhanced her vision as if using a zoom function. But soon something white blocked her vision. 

“Angel,” She practically growled. Her dog actually growled, sitting up. 

“Mind if I sit,” Josh asks pleasantly, eyeing the dog with caution. It looked like a normal dog, but a clip in his right ear and a strange red shimmer in his eyes made Josh think there might be something hellish about him. 

She took her feet off the bench and pushed her sunglasses up off of her face. “Finally want a taste of what you’re missing?” 

“No,” he states flatly. His eyes were still wandering between the creature and the demon. She was dressed in all black, typical. The dog was between cream and the lightest brown he’d ever seen, atypical. “Is this your dog?” 

“Yeah.” She smiles softly for the first time. Her hand goes to pet him between his ears and down his small snout. “He was waiting for me in Hell back’n the day. They made him a chupacabra for me as a ‘Welcome to Hell’ present.” 

Josh’s eyes widened in surprise. What had she done in life to receive a present in Hell? “They like you down there?” 

“Eh…I think I’m just a descendant of many a troublemaker. They knew I’d be an asset, especially when I arrived so early.” 

Her dog slipped into her lap. For a moment, he shifted as he stared at Josh. Big ruby eyes glowered at him, all his hair was gone, leaving something more resembling a pale soft dog-rat. Disturbing and wretched, nonetheless. He wrinkled his nose at Josh. 

Josh tried to smile, feeling awkward. Jake had insisted he find this demon Josh had encountered, needing more information about whether he was really in trouble or if it was procedural. Why Jake wouldn’t do it himself, Josh never got as many answers as questions he asked. 

“Do either of you have names?” 

She grinned. “Is this twenty questions? Why so interested in me?” 

“Just want to get to know my opposition,” Josh says lightly, praying for her to feel extra kind today. Afterall, she was a demon who was originally human and it was only a little while ago from what she seemed to like. He was pretty sure she’d only been down in Hell for 50-60 years, that was barely a human lifetime—and yet it was longer than hers. Far less than Jake. Maybe he could neutralize her, get her to see the bright side. 

“His name is Rune, now, but it used to be Rori.” She rubs over the dog’s hair, happy that he was softer on Earth. “He responds to both–for me. Not sure what he should be called now we’re back.” 

Josh waited patiently. The breeze was cooler than usual and looking at her, he had to assume it was her as well. She seemed far too powerful for a run-of-the-mill demon who used to be human. But she also seemed extremely unlikely to answer his questions if he got too personal. 

With her eyes uncovered, Josh watched them move around as she thought about something. It was almost like she was tracking something or doing some long form math equation in her head. Like she didn’t know what her name was and was looking for the answer. 

“Mine…well, now you can call me Sal.” She winks and Josh straightens in his seat, feeling strange. “Gonna write about me in your diary now, Joshua?” 

Josh pretends to laugh with a clipped “ha ha.” She smirked again, sliding closer to Josh on the bench. Rori grew annoyed and hopped off her lap, slinking off to climb a tree in hopes of finding a squirrel. Sal extended a delicate hand to Josh’s shoulder, beginning to play with the fabric of his shirt. He smiled tightly, not having anywhere to go if he wanted more answers. 

“You said you arrived early?” Josh’s voice is high as he feels her touch moving down his arm. Thankfully, being an angel kept him from feeling her entire influence, but her physical touch was enough to feel something…unholy. He didn’t want to imagine her abilities on mortals. “What did you mean?” 

“You’re fun,” She beamed. “If I show you some tricks I picked up in Hell, will you show me something?” 

“It depends what you want to see,” Josh tries to be diplomatic. 

Her head throws back in laughter. “Not that. No, I want you to want me to see that.” Her hand wanders to his wrist and toys with the bracelet before slinking to his thigh. Her voice was low and sultry, lips pressed to his ear. “Desperately.” 

Josh was starting to feel like he might have to leave. His breathing had turned shallow and he couldn’t stop staring at the carnelian stone hanging between her breasts. Her hand’s touch left him and she laughed again bringing him out of his reverie. 

“Hell, you’re pretty cute…I was a 27 club member.” She shrugged, turning away from Josh to stare out at the people again. “Had my heyday in the late 60s/early 70s and went out the same way I lived. Fast.” 

Josh thought about the 60s and the 70s. He’d admit those decades were a bit of a guilty pleasure for him. Nashville had been fun, not as crowded. He watched her again, seeing her eyes narrow looking at the couples and the groups of friends. 

“You weren’t from here?” 

“LA. Broadway’s kinda like the Sunset Strip, just a bit more loser-y…NashVegas, just like Liv said.” 

Josh was about to protest, but refrained, letting her reminisce. She did miss her friends from back then. They’d gotten up to so much trouble. Sometimes too much. 

“Best of times, worst of times kind of thing y’a dig?” She tapped the heel of her boot like she was trying to shake off something unpleasant. “Just glad I had my dog for most of the time. He followed me everywhere and everyone’d let ‘im in because he was such a doll. Died ‘bout three years ‘fore me.”

The more she spoke the more her accent of a bygone era of California popped up. Josh couldn’t deny how sweet she sounded when she spoke about that thing, demonic as the pair of them were. 

“How long’ve you’ve been up–er, down here?” She asked, barely realizing she had to correct for him. 

Josh cast his eyes to the sky, thinking. “Since the beginning. That’s like, 8000 human years, I believe.” 

“Get the fuck outta town!” She exclaimed, jumping in her seat to face him. Her eyes were alight with hellfire. “You’re a proper angel then?” 

Josh chuckled. “They don’t really take new hires upstairs, I’m afraid. Only very special occasions. It doesn’t happen much these days.” 

She regarded him for a moment, inventorizing him again now that she deemed him far more interesting than before. “Yeah, I was on a special list when I came down. Only a few others in my line, everyone else had to wait in this huge waiting room. It was…repulsive and I’ve been in the alley behind the Whisky.” 

Josh tilted his head, looking over her once more. He felt like he should know her, but he couldn’t understand from where. She looked so familiar. Her hair seemed to shift every so often and he couldn’t be sure if it was the light or mood dependent. He didn’t prod at her mentioning the special treatment in Hell, didn’t want to alert her to the fact, that from what he knew, that was extremely rare.

“Have you told your demon friend about me yet?” She asked.

“He’s not my friend,” Josh responds automatically. 

Her eyebrows raise as she turns her head back to him, scanning him for understanding. A killer upon its prey. 

“Secret lover?” She guesses. 

Josh can’t hide his face of disgust. “Jesus! No!”

“Homophobic?” She asks with a look of distaste. Not being for the gays was so not groovy. Half the musicians she hung out with back in the day were gay. And she wasn’t one for choosing when it came to sexuality. 

“No!” Josh cries. “I am more than an ally to that cause, not that angels really have sexualities…it’s just.” He sighs, rubbing at his neck confusion. “He was, is–I don’t know, my twin.” 

“Oh!” She beams, eyes once again lighting up in intrigue. She enjoyed learning things, it helped for using it against people at the end of the day. “So he’s also a proper demon. Fell and all that.” 

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” He sounded pained, as if he was reliving the entire thing. 

“Wow…” She blows out a breath. “That must be funky.” 

She continued when Josh said nothing. “Y’know ‘cause he’s your brother but also he’s–” She finished her statement by sticking her pointer fingers through her hair and wiggling them around. 

“Yes, I am aware.” Josh shakes his head. 

She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, revealing her stomach below the flowy lace top she was wearing. “Great catch up, I guess, angel. Wanna trade tricks later? I’ve already worked through most of the main bars here and I’m getting bored.” Nothing was keeping her interest, since every place she had to transform into her liking. 

“You want to hang out with me? You want to hang out with an angel?” 

She grinned, turning around herself once before dropping her arms and stalking back towards Josh, standing directly in front of him. She leaned over him, watching him straighten his neck and swallow thickly. His eyes flickered from her face to the carnelian again. 

“Everyone else is too easy around here. I need a challenge.” Her lips were right in front of his. “You seem like the perfect remedy for a wayward soul like me.” 

-

Josh wasn’t exactly sure why he agreed to meet the demon at some speakeasy she said she needed to try. He wasn’t fully sold on calling her ‘Sal’, something about it felt off to him. She didn’t even really seem to care for it either. Jake, he knew, was vehement that he wished to be called Jake. 

Jake was probably why he had come to the back door of a pizza joint that was actually the door to the underground speakeasy. He’d asked for more information on her. When Josh had inquired why Jake couldn’t just do it himself, his twin finally fessed up that he was actually not currently in Nashville at all. Leaving the heavy lifting to Josh, like always. 

Begrudgingly, Josh entered another bar with plans to meet a demon. Heaven forgive him. It was smokey inside the brick-walled cavern. Small candles lit the tabletops and narrow bar top. A small dance floor was packed as people danced slowly to a jazz band. In the corner of the room, he saw her hair almost glowing in the dark and he made his way over. 

She was dressed in a black pantsuit, with no undershirt, just a black lace bra and her same necklace. Rori wasn’t present, from what Josh could see, but based on their conversation earlier he had a feeling the demon dog was around, lurking. 

She groaned when she saw what Josh was wearing. 

“Angel, man, do you have any other clothes besides that?” She shook her head in disappointment. 

“Of course I do,” Josh huffed, looking down at his clothes not understanding what was wrong with them. 

“Change.”

“I can’t perform miracles just to change my outfit. That’s wrong.” 

“That’s wrong, it’s wrong,” She parrots what she thought was becoming Josh’s mantra. “God, Heaven sounds so stifling.” She rolled her eyes and snapped her fingers with impatience.

In an instant, Josh was dressed in a red velvet jumpsuit with sequins around the neckline. His arms were on full display, muscles bulging while the velvet hugged his torso and lengthened his height. He smooths at his hair and feels something come off his skin. On his hand, he sees glitter. He looks at her again and then down at his new clothes. She was eyeing the bulge veering to his right thigh. 

“Much better.” She grins. 

Josh rolls his hand in front of him quickly, almost like a benediction, and once again his outfit has changed. Now, he was in a cream and grey jumpsuit that was far less flashy of his own with his favorite sigil emblazoned on the chest. He left the glitter and sat down. 

Her unamused look makes Josh feel a little hot with shame. 

“A little miracle to make sure I don’t look like a demon can be forgiven.” 

“You looked foxy but whatever.” She rolls her eyes and flicks a hand at the table, producing a bottle of red wine for both of them. “You drink, surely. C’mon, don’t act like your demon brother hasn’t corrupted a few of those precious angel feathers.” 

Josh can’t help the smile that falls over his face. Not sure what was so endearing about her at this moment. The romantic jazz might have something to do with it. He loved jazz. He takes the drink gratefully and they sip in companionable silence. She was subdued. 

With one bottle down, they start a second and this is when she offers to show Josh a trick if he’ll show her something again. He shrugs in compliance, feeling well on his way to drunk. 

“But won’t the other people in here see?” He adds. 

“No, they all know to mind their own business. Plus, it’s dark in here.” She winks and suddenly Josh is staring at only her head. 

He can seriously only see her head and neck. She moves closer to him and now Josh is certain, she’s made her body disappear. She was a dishonest-to-god floating head. Her head glowed gold for a moment as she twirled in a complete 360 to really show herself off. Josh’s eyes were as wide as possible trying not to cry out in amazement. Then the rest of her body reappeared, straddling Josh’s lap. With her arms draped over his shoulder, her all black soulless eyes gazed into Josh’s, practically paralyzing him with her fiery warmth and intensity. 

“So what do you think, angel?” 

“I, uh,” Josh stuttered. He placed his hands firmly on her hips and moved her off of him. “That’s impressive. What’s it good for?” 

“S just fun,” She shrugged, undetered by Josh removing her from his lap. “Let’s dance and then you can show me your wings or something.” 

Josh didn’t have time to protest, as she grabbed his wrist with one hand and their second bottle of pinot noir in the other. 

She took a swig before letting it float in the air beside them. Her body swiveled around the dance floor, placing herself in Josh’s arms as he swayed respectfully. She sighed and sunk into the movement, drinking from the bottle every so often. When the song changed, she turned to face Josh, handing the wine to him. He drank obediently, which she felt was a triumph. 

Hands draped over his shoulders again, she pressed her body against his. He was strong, she could feel his toned stomach. Her regular eyes met his and she tipped her nose against his. He looked stoicly back at her, determined to be friendly but not fall into the trap she was so clearly laying for him. 

“You’ve got so many defenses up,” She whispers. “Why not do what you want for once? Loosen up. Indulge.” 

Josh smiles down at her and moves his lips to her ear. Polite as ever, he speaks soothingly. “I am having a lovely time with you, Sal.”

She groans, pressing his hands to her hips again, where the curve of her ass was. “I can gaurantee you’ve never had what I’m offering you…” 

Josh smiles knowingly, unconvinced. “I’m afraid I’m above your temptations. Is seduction your main area of expertise?” 

She glares at him, but there’s a glint in her eye. She loved the chase. The difficulty. 

“Debauchery in general, but with how many people wanted to have sex with me in my first life I have a specialization in seduction and desire.” 

He shrugs, moving his hands to a respectful place on her waist. His touch is light, but she feels the pressure of his thumbs pushing at the exposed skin. She smirks and snakes her lips up to his ear. 

The gold hoop glints and she flicks her tongue over it. “I could just show you what you’re missing. If you’d allow me to put it in your mind, we wouldn’t actually do it. You’d be in complete control. Halo intact. C’mon just a few images…it’ll be informative.” 

Josh sighs as the tug of her teeth on his earring. She was bad. Terribly good at her job. He understood why she was here. Jake wasn’t even in town. Damn him. If he did his job a little better, Josh wouldn’t be contemplating allowing a demon into even a small recess of his mind. But, Jesus, did he want to just see it. If it wasn’t real, it wasn’t really a sin to indulge. 

She stares at him, waiting for his response. Her hands run over his shoulders and chest. The music swells and Josh’s hands tighten on her waist as he looks up to the ceiling, praying for forgiveness. 

“For educational purposes,” He starts and she grins. “I will allow you to show me how you do your job. So that I may be able to thwart your wrongdoings better.” 

“It’s just a little sex,” She licks her lips. “Igniting passion in people makes more babies for you to teach heavenly values or whatever. God likes sex, Josh.” Her voice is sickening, it was like she was dripping in a delicious scent that Josh can’t get out of his head. Twisting his values and her intentions into something evil that somehow made wicked sense.

He’s been careful to only open up a small piece he knows he can close, but he almost loses his footing when he finally feels her stinging lips on his. She licks into his mouth and he’s about to protest before the images begin to flow through his mind. 

‘Good thing your brother doesn’t have to transfer information like this, huh?’ Sal says within Josh’s mind. 

Guiltily, he feels himself laughing. Though his physical body is still locking lips with her. 

The room she brings him to in his mind is dark, a red lamp in the corner where two bodies are rolling around. Sighs of ecstasy filling his ears. The smell of sex hanging in his nose.

‘You’re really missing out, angel. Could show you the best thing life, and death, has to offer.’ Her voice is softer in his mind. 

The scene changes. He’s staring up at her above him. Her hips are working over him steadily as her naked breasts bounce in front of him, her necklace is the glowing light now. Her voice is sinful as she moans praises for Josh. How good he feels, how big he is, how strong he is. The scene changes and he’s driving into her with her legs over his shoulders, she’s smiling sweetly up at him with her mouth open, repeating his name like a prayer. It shifts and she’s pressed face down in the grey silk pillows, her body spread out for him as he grunts and growls, thrusting ceremoniously into her as she screams for him to keep going. It’s melodic, every bodily sound and the scene of their physical bodies uniting is hypnotic. Like it was pre-ordained that he would fit so well inside her. He feels euphoric as it shifts once more. She is back on top, his hips press up into her as she grinds down. Their faces are pressed together as Josh holds her body close to him. Arms enveloping her fragile frame. The room is quiet as they are pressed skin to skin, her lips meeting his gently. Sharp gasps escape their trembling lips.

‘Okay, enough,’ Josh pushes away from the scene, feeling both aroused and confused. 

In the speakeasy, she pulls back from the kiss with a wipe of her lips. She runs her hands through her hair as she watches Josh. She had shown him every one of his fantasies, placing herself at the center of them. They weren’t particularly raunchy, it was all about connection to him and for once she didn’t tease. 

“I like you, Joshua,” She says, truthfully, allowing him to pull their bodies a little apart. 

He was flustered and confused and embarrassed, but he also didn’t want to run. She had kept her word, shown him a few things and left. He didn’t fully understand the words she had just spoken.

He shakes his head, an awkward smile on his lips there on accident, and she stares at him wistfully. 

“I haven’t had someone in my mind in a very long time.” 

“It’s okay,” She soothes. “You really are an angel. Maybe on this earthly plane for too long since you clearly have carnal desires, but they were sweet. Every man’s mind I’ve looked into had vile and cruel desires…” She paused, looking past Josh. “Even in my first life, all the men I knew wanted to hurt the women they supposedly loved.” 

Josh’s eyebrows shot up in shock. 

“The closest you got to dirty was having me in do–”

“Okay!” Josh cut her off. “I think it’s time to call it a night.” He turned and walked swiftly through the crowd, parting easily for him–definitely not a misuse of his miracles. 

“Fine,” She grinned wickedly and whistled for Rori, sauntering after Josh. 

Back on the street, it could’ve been daytime with all the lights compared to the speakeasy. She squinted her eyes in distaste, thriving in the dark and wishing she had brought her sunglasses.

Josh was turned away from her so she tapped on his shoulder, wanting his attention. Wanting to see him again. He turned slowly and the look on his cherubic face was troubled. She frowned, about to ask what got his wings in a twist. 

A shadow stepped into Josh’s light. His hair was long and messy, in need of a wash. His silver jewelry shined heavy on his tanned chest. His black button up was almost completely open exposing his torso and he held a wide-brimmed black hat loosely in one hand and a guitar case more carefully in the other. His eyes flashed yellow when he spotted Y/N.  

She straightened her posture under his gaze and gave him a defiant look. Rori growled, but stayed behind her legs. 

Jake ran his tongue over his bottom lip, taking in the woman shaped devil before him. “You must be the new demon in town.” 

She tilted her head at him and looked between Josh and Jake. “And you must be your brother’s keeper.” 

He took a menacing step closer, narrowing his eyes at his angel of a brother before returning his gaze to her. “Something like that. Now, farewell…or don’t, I don’t care.”

She opened her mouth to speak again but no sound came out. 

His eyes flashed again as he turned on his heel and said tersely, a command, “Josh.”

The pair disappeared into fog that had appeared as suddenly as the older demon along the nighttime sidewalk and then she watched it dissipate moments later, leaving no trace of the creatures. The men. The angel and the demon.

-

to be continued... join the taglist

[lilith-little-world]

I Saw You Once In a Dream, Maybe|| Pt. 2

I should really look over these and edit them. Oh well, should be making a masterlists soon. I wonder if I should start making short Macaque x Reader oneshots. Oh, I can imagine the angsts already.

The sun was high in the sky, clouds giving shade to the people down below. You hum feeling the sunlight kissing your face. A soft warmth fills you.

The walk was long, but you didn't mind a bit. Enjoying seeing the shops and restaurants. The aroma of spice wafts in the air, making your stomach ache. Having to skip breakfast, to make it on time for meeting the client. Working as a professional photographer, today you're going to a restaurant to have their yearly photoshoot. Using the images to promote their business on their site.

The small restaurant came into view. The neon sign of a pig, shining brightly. You picked up the pace, dragging the large transport case.

The shop was empty, only having an employee and what you assumed to be a customer.

“Good afternoon, is Pigsy here?”

The employee paused from mopping and faced you.

“Oh right, Pigsy said that a photographer is coming by today. He’ll be coming soon, so he went to a last-minute grocery shop at the market to get the freshest produce for the shoot.” The brunette employee said.

“Ah okay, I don't mind waiting for a few minutes. Can I at least start setting things up?” You point at the corner table.

“It's no problem! Do you need any help? That seems pretty heavy.”

“Sure why not, and yeah but the wheels make it easy to drag around.”

The employee grabs the handle and leads it to the corner area. You place the duffle bag that was around your shoulders on the table. Taking the camera and lens out, putting them together.

“Mk, right?” You ask.

“Yup! Um, sorry I never really got to learn your name.” He laughs nervously.

“Oh, it's fine, not like I come by a lot. I know, I should since the noodles here are good. Did anything change? Was there any renovation or expansion done?”

“Nah, maybe a new paint job and stools. Other than that, this place stayed the same.”

“I can see, the red cushion stools are a nice touch. The beige looks nice too. What about the food? Did Pigsy add any more dishes to the menu?”

“Maybe a bowl or a side dish or two. I can't really remember.”

“One new soup and 3 side dishes. It was delicious as expected.”

You both face the customer. He was eating a bowl of noodles.

“Of course, you would know, Tang. I would be surprised if you didn't.” Mk says unenthusiastically.

“I'm guessing, he's a regular.” You ask.

“A regular?! I'm more than that. I'm a loyal frequent customer, basically a BIG part of this family.” Tang says dramatically. Mk raises an eyebrow.

“I'm so sorry, didn't mean to take that long.”

An out-of-breath Pigsy comes into the restaurant. He was carrying a few bags of fresh vegetables.

“Oh, don't worry about it. These two were keeping me company.”

“I hope so, if not I would have to ban that freeloader.” He points at a mid-eating Tang. “-and find a new delivery boy.” He said pointing at a shocked Mk.

You laugh seeing the two expressions.

“Now kid, wash your hands and help me prep. We can't waste any more time.”

You took pictures of the restaurant from the outside and inside. Getting a good view of the establishment. It wasn't long until Pigsy made the new dishes.

“Wow, that smells amazing!” You said.

“Hope so, I wouldn't want to make something that drives away customers.”

You took a few pictures of each bowl and plate.

“Here, try some, it's on the house.”

“Wait- why can she get free noodles?!” Tang whines loudly.

“Cause unlike you, she worked for those noodles. It's hard getting a good photographer that charges fairly.” He waves a wooden spoon around.

‘It wouldn't hurt to try some, after all, you didn't eat breakfast and it has been a long past lunch.’

“Thank you, Pigsy. You're very generous.”

You took the chopsticks that were on the side and took a bite. It was savory but sweet.

“So how is it?” Pigsy asks.

“Really good, it makes not eating breakfast and lunch worth it.”

“That's a nasty habit to have. You need to at least eat breakfast, even if it's a small meal. Come by here and I'll give ya something, half off.”

“Now that's not fair! I have been here longer!”

You straighten up, staring at the pig demon. His offer was tempting and the food was good.

“You know what? Sure, I need a good reason to wake up early. Work was just not cutting it anymore.” You took another bite out of some meat.

The pig demon was going to ask more about your statement but Mk quickly left the restaurant and caught everyone's attention.

“Pigsy, need to go see you tomorrow, byyyyye!” Mk said, leaving a cloud of dust.

“That kid! He still needs to deliver noodles!”

“May I ask where he's heading?”

“He's just going to train with the Monkey King.” Tang says boredly.

“I swear, that kid forgets he has a life other than this mystic monkey business.” Pigsy mumbles.

“Oh.”

‘Wait what?’

You had heard the rumors but never really cared or believed them. Too busy dealing with clients and taking trips to photograph certain scenery. There was an urge to ask for more information or follow Mk. Yet you decided to stay in your seat and eat the bowl of noodles. This was for the best.

“So he's actually real?”

You wanted to slap yourself so hard. What happened to just finishing eating the noodles?

“Yeah, and the kid has been attached to his hip ever since meeting him.” Pigsy sighs, like a worried father.

“Have you met him?”

“Yes, but he seemed very closed off.” Tang says.

“Doesn't matter too much, since he does care about the kid. As long as he doesn't push him too hard, I don't mind Mk leaving early.”

“Awww, you sounded like a father. Guess you do have a soft spot.”

It's been a few years since you knew Pigsy. Your impression of him has always been rough around the edges but a passionate chef.

Tang laughs loudly as Pigsy's face turns red from embarrassment.

“Him? Oh please, anyone who comes close to being Mk’s father figure is me!” Tang said proudly.

While the pig demon rolls his eyes.

“Pigsy, watch out he's coming for your title.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You mean, he's coming after my title.”

The day went by with constant banter. It had been a while since you enjoyed someone's company that wasn't family. However, every good thing comes to an end. The sun was setting fairly fast and you had to leave for home. Saying goodbye, you left.

It was now that you realized that taking the walk to the restaurant was a bad idea. Especially when carrying expensive equipment. Luckily you made it back home before the sun had set.

Once again the house was dark. The only light coming from the closed curtains. You sigh and head to your room. Not even trying to put away the equipment. You don't know why but whenever you get home. It somehow sucks the energy out of you. The house always reminds you of something in your life that is missing. Your eyes land on the bag you bought yesterday.

You look through the stuff and pull out the small stuffed toy.

“So you're real, huh?”

Something in you squirms, as an emotion, you had long forgotten about resurfacing. It was warm and soft. You couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was so you enjoyed it while it lasted.

The toy sits on top of your pillow as you lay on the bed. You know it is strange, but the toy somehow brought you comfort. So much that you drift off to sleep peacefully.

This time, you didn't feel lonely in the house.

________________________________

The asks are open for requests or questions. Now I need to sleep since it's already morning. Gonna need time to see if I should make Macaque x Reader oneshots, I kind of have my hands full with, “The Isekai’d Oracle” story.

Macaque: You should definitely start writing oneshot, people like me more.

Me: Go back to the room or go to the time out corner with Wukong.

Macaque: You know, I'm your favorite~

Me: Nope it's Red Son.

Red Son: Don't you dare, drag me into this mess.

[666bedbugs]

I’m still working on my logo bUUUTTTT MY ETSY SHOP IS UP AND RUNNING NOW!

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Prints of all 12 original digital art piece that I displayed at the NOW WHAT??? art gallery are available there :3 updated to include my new signature n everything!

Multiple sizes are available for all of them and before shipping they’re all under $20 <3

Already got a bunch of other pieces that I’m excited to finish and list too hehe c;

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