#th: Just follow my lane

[haikyu-mp4]

I would like to listen to Better Than Words with Bokuto, please <3 😊

Now playing... Better Than Words

word count; 919 – gn!reader, for my 1D x Haikyu event

Bokuto knows many things. He’s a college graduate, no less! However, before he even accomplished that, his mother ensured he was instilled with a couple of important values. For example, actions speak louder than words.

So when he hadn’t been able to see you for a whole week because of practice, he wanted to get you the most gorgeous bouquet of flowers he could find to show how much he appreciated you. He left the flower shop with a blinding smile on his face and a couple of elderly women cooed at him as he walked past with the flowers in hand.

Not even the rain could make his smile fall. It was a light drizzle, and he did his best to shield the flowers as he made his way to the bus stop. Picking his phone out of his pocket, he took a moment to admire the picture of you on his lock screen. Your beauty made the bouquet dull in comparison, he thought.

He wrote you a message saying he was on his way over, and just as it was sent, the bus pulled up to his stop. Unfortunately, it was quite full and he had to stand around the middle, so he desperately tried to protect the flowers from harsh squishing by the people around him. Fortunately, he was a tall, strong guy, and the flowers took minimal damage. He breathed out a short disappointed breath as he saw some ruined petals, but he still stayed positive that you would like the gesture. They were still nice flowers.

Someone else pressed the button for his stop, so he waited patiently as someone else got off before making his way out the door. Just as he was about to step off, someone accidentally bumped into his back, sending him stumbling out with a roar of surprise.

He watched almost as if in slow motion as the bouquet flew out of his hands and onto the pavement. Following his unlucky pattern, it fell right into the bike lane where a man whizzed over his precious flowers and broke at least half the stems.

Finally gaining his footing, he picked them up as quickly as possible, tears in his eyes as the bus doors closed. Several people were watching him from the windows as the bus drove off, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about the sorry excuse of a bouquet he was about to bring you.

You waited for him in your apartment, just finishing up the last part of the meal, the table set for a romantic dinner. Going a week without your boyfriend wasn’t life-threatening, but this felt like a forever kind of love and you wanted to make sure he knew you appreciated him.

There was a knock on the door and you excitedly skipped over to the door, opening it in a rush only to be met with a wet-eyed Kotaro. His hands were behind his back and he smiled as best as he could despite his disappointment in himself. “Baby, what’s wrong? I missed you so much, come here.”

You pulled him inside and wrapped your arms around him in the warmest hug. His arms did the same around you, and as he leaned his head on yours, you felt him holding something behind your back.

“I missed you too, and I wanted to buy you pretty flowers,” he answered with a sniffle. As you pulled away, he held a bouquet between you with the most gorgeous array of different flowers you had ever seen. It had all your favourites, in addition to some other pretty ones to make it fuller. It also looked tired and clearly got messed up on the way. You gasped and stroked your hands over his to take the bouquet from him. “But then everything went wrong on the way here, and I couldn’t go back and get a new one, because then the food would get cold, and, and- I just love you so much that I can’t even find the words to sum it up.”

You caressed his cheek with your free hand, chuckling softly under your breath. “You went all the way to that one shop I like, didn’t you? The only one with this particular shade of my favourite, oh how lovely!” you noted, making him nod and smile a little. “This is perfect, Kotaro, thank you. I’m glad you didn’t go back, I made your favourite for dinner.”

He perked up, sniffing the air and stroking his hand down your back as you walked into the kitchen where you would be eating. “I love you.”

You leaned up to kiss his lips before he held your chair out for you so you could sit down. “I know, you show me every day. And I love you too.”

After a lovely dinner of catching up on everything that happened the last week, you and Kotaro did the dishes together before settling down by the dinner table to preserve some memories. You had the great idea of pressing the flowers! You wouldn’t need much of the broken stems, and any ruined petals could be left out.

A couple of weeks later, he was back over at your apartment for an evening of watching the new series you were into, and he was happy to see the flowers from that day were framed and hung above your TV.

Underneath were three words in cursive writing that made his heart warm.

Better than words.

masterlist

/grand thanks to angel @cottonlemonade for this idea<3

[stuffyflowers]

follow up to the bad driving post from yesterday. explanations under cut also feel free to argue with me lol

So basically top left = characters who drive badly but not in a way that will cause a crash, top right = characters who are actually all things considered good at driving, bottom left = characters who should not be behind the wheel ever, bottom right = characters who are good drivers in theory/most of the time, but certain factors can make them become car crash material.

Dalv: In my mind, Dalv is the most cautious and safe driver ever, to the point where he loops back around to being a shit driver. You do not want to get stuck in a lane behind this guy he will not go even CLOSE to the speed limit. He will probably let you through when he has right of way. etc etc. Ig on the bright side he doesnt get into enough situations where a car crash could really occur? yay?

El Bailador: Kind of guy who drives windows down music blaring probably speeding slightly at all times but somehow has never had anything bad happen to him. he is being protected by higher powers because he is sooooooo nice and cool :)

Ace: Ridicules all his friends for being bad drivers then actually gets behind the wheel and he sucks almost as bad. Yk, given how his whole thing in the Wild East is facepalming at the five's antics while arguably being worse than a lot of them in that regard. Why are you encouraging a child to gamble. Why are you tormenting blackjack with mooch. Whats his problem

Edward: Okay I didnt really know where to put Ed.. Hes in a weird situation where,, i think his biggest problem would be finding a car thats actually suited to him. Like how he wants to play the guitar but his hands are too big to actually play any of the ones they have. After that though, I think he'd be pretty good, at least decent! He does have some anger issues to deal with (beat up blembino that one time lol) that could cause problems but hes working on it :)

Moray: Pretty self explanatory. The most normal feisty five member. Probably their designated driver 90% of the time. The only reason theyre not completely top is bc their one weakness is whilst they ARE the voice of reason, they do ultimately go along w the group most of the time even if they feel whats happening is wrong. Maybe picks up on the five's bad habits a bit? Overall still a trustworthy pick for driver i think.

Flowey: Ok.do not take this too seriously..............Ik he doesnt have feet for th pedals but consider. Its funny. He can use his vines trust me (also even if he cant physically drive i feel like he'd have a really good understanding of driving. guy who has read every book is bound to have useless knowledge on topics that arent at all relevant to him. and you cant crash the car if youre not driving i guess!!!!!!!!!! but also. funny.)

Ceroba: Similar case as Ed. Actually good at driving but holy fuck the road rage. I feel she'd be worse at responding to it than him bc she has so little self respect. very "I will kill us both😳" attitude abt tailgating and shit like that. Usually better at keeping it in when shes driving with someone else.

Martlet: Maybe she should be furthest down bc she is the only one to canonically crash a vehicle…, Idk I feel like she’d be sliiiightly better w a car where her focus has to be constantly checked, she cant get distracted while filling in questionnaires with clover if she’s driving. That being said she is still. Yeah.

Mooch: similar to mart. Just cannot see her being a good driver. Sorry girl </3

Starlo: starlo.

Axis: faceplanted right in the center bc hes a wild card to me. Would he have insufferable road rage? Would he actually be pretty chill and responsible? Can he even drive if his foot is a singular wheel? Who knows.

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Switch of Daylight: Chapter Thirteen, Volturi

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[Twelve] [Thirteen] [One]

"He's going to make the Volturi change their minds." Alice tells us after a vision.

"It's almost noon now." Bella announces, checking her watch. Alice going as fast as she can in th Porsche.

"There's Volterra." Alice points up to a village. Now pushing the car even faster than before. Everyone in the village is wearing red. The car weaving through people. "Why are they all wearing red?" Bella questions.

"San Marcos Day festival. The perfect setting. Large crowds. The Volturi won't let him get far enough to reveal himself- he's counting on that." She explains to my sister who's freaking out.

"We only have five minutes."

Alice slams on the breaks, bringing us to a halt. The police wave her back and Bella jumps out. "Where's the square?" She asks. "Follow that lane-" My sister's already running. "He'll be under the clock tower!" Alice shouts after her.

As we watch Bella we then see a figure in a black coat, tracking her. He disappears and I go to open the door but Alice stops me. "[Name], they'll kill you." She says. "I really have nothing to live for anymore, Alice. I'll be killed either way. We both know it." I tell her, it was something no one wanted to bring up.

Why would they? I'm slowly turning into a hybrid, the most powerful being to exist. Something the Volturi can't let happen. Neither can the wolves. As much as I'm fighting it, I'm getting weaker.

"Don't say that, I can protect you." Her face morphs into a sad expression I don't think  I've ever had to witness before. I take in a breath, checking where Bella's body was just at, my hand still touching the door handle. Then looking back at Alice.

"Does she make it?" I ask. "Yes." She whispers. "We need to get there before they get them." I say, she nods her head, I take my hand off the handle and sit back.

I notice her shoulders fall and she begins to drive the Porsche to park it somewhere. Once we get in a shaded area she puts her hood up, I take the stupid hat off and put on the hood of my long sleeve. I feel my body shudder, my knees almost giving out. Alice holds onto my body, helping me stay up.

"Let's go." I demand, she hums, her small body fitting underneath my arm. "I know a shortcut." She tells me, we go behind buildings and then finding alleys that lead to others so we don't have to bump into too many people. "[Name] you're getting weaker." She suddenly says, I didn't even notice how droopy I was becoming.

"I'm sorry." I straighten my poster. "You need to take some of my energy." She leans me against the wall and I let out a shakey breath, hitting my head against the brick. "No." I close my eyes.

"I'll take their energy when we get there." I try to walk, almost falling forward but she catches me once again. "Please, just enough to walk on your own." She pleads with me.

"Just enough," I repeat, focusing on what I was doing I take some of her energy and I'm able to let her go without stumbling. I glance at her and I see her eyes sunken in a little bit. "I took too much." My eyes widen.

"No- no you didn't, I can still run, let's go." She takes my hand and we begin to start running where we need to go.

We hear their voices and start getting closer, Alice lightly trips when we get toward them. We pull off our hoods.

"Come on, guys. It's a festival." We reach Edward and my sister, positioning ourselves in a protective stance in front of Bella. "We wouldn't want to make a scene." I continue.

"There won't be any scene. And we'll still win." I recognize him from when Jasper and Alice were telling me about them. His name is Felix.

"But not easily-" "Enough." Jane, a tiny woman with blonde hair cuts the conversation. We take a step back, knowing her ability. "Jane." Edward nods.

"Who is she?" I hear my sister ask Alice. "Just do as she says." Alice motions. Jane tosses Edward an overcoat, he easily slips it on. "Follow me." She orders, turning and heading up the alley.

I glare at them from behind, knowing I could easily take their energy and power but also knowing it wouldn't end good.

We follow them.

I feel the energy I once had falter, having to cover it up I bounce on my other knee a little bit. I know Edward noticed it though. He moves closer to me.

"Take mine." Is all he whispered. I glance at him, shaking my head. "Do it." He mumbles a little more sternly. He forcibly grabs my wrist and I close my eyes.

"Ok, ok." I smack him away, focusing on what I had to do again.

We get to more narrow alleys, the path ends at a wall of the brick similar to the other walls. Without breaking the pace of the walking we were doing Jane strides in forward, dropping down a hole in the street. A drain.

Alice follows, me going next. "It's alright, Alice and [Name] will catch you." I hear Edward tell Bella as we now wait at the bottom. We do exactly as said by him and then when he lands beside us he takes Bella, pulling her close to him.

Next we go into an elevator, the door clanging shut and the noise hurting my ears. I feel that warm feeling again and I tense up. I'm not even angry so I don't understand why it's happening.

The elevator opens to a nicely elegant space that has an old world look to it. We're greeted by a human receptionist. "Buon pomeriggio."

We head through the lobby, reaching double doors that open. The three ancients, Aro, Marcus and Caius sit in three seats there. Aro rises, greeting us and taking Edward's hand, shaking it.

"What a happy surprise! Bella is alive after all. Isn't that wonderful?" Aro grins, announcing it to everyone in the world. Caius has a sour expression laid upon his face. Marcus could care less.

Aro doesn't let go of Edward's hand. "Her blood appeals to you so much it makes me thirsty. How can you stand to be so close to her?" He questions Edward. "It's not without effort." He responds, making Aro laugh. "I can see that."

Bella looks at Edward confused so he explains, "One touch and Aro can see every thought I've ever had in my life."

"You're quite the telepath yourself, Edward. Though, you can't read Bella's thoughts. Fascinating." He releases Edward's hand and turns to Bella. "I would love to see if you are an exception to my gifts, as well."

He reaches for my sister's hand who is hesitant at first but she doesn't have a choice so he extends his hand. She finally takes it. Confusion sweeps over him.

"Interesting." He releases her hand and goes back to his chair. "I wonder if-" "No!" Edward shouts.

I look between everyone, observing everyone's emotions. Alice moves closer to me. She knows if he gets anything from us he's going to know what's going to happen to me. I've come to terms with it.

"Let's see if she's immune to all our powers, shall we Jane?" Aro ignores Edward. Jane turns to Bella but Edward springs in front of her. Jane focuses her gaze onto him which flings him across the room where he collapses. My eyes widen and I focus onto her. Taking her energy.

Alice goes to tell me to stop but it's too late. She's not able to use her ability anymore. "Jane, dear?" Aro asks her, smiling at me now. Jane's grin turned to anger.

"[Name], isn't it?" I back away from him. "Now, now." He laughs. I take deep breaths trying to calm down as I feel the warmth get hotter on my skin. I look over at Alice whose eyebrows are furrowed, not knowing what to do as Bella is helping Edward up.

Them just as worried about me. Bella and him don't know much but obviously now Edward does reading our minds.

"I've heard about you." He says, not reaching out for my hand just yet. "What about me?" I ask him, building a confidence. "You're with Alice, a prize sure enough... and Jasper, a good mix." His grin was starting to really freak me out now. "You're a recent turn, yes?"

"Nice observation." I glare at him, he giggles, nodding his head. "Don't get to hostile on me, you're warming up!" He looks back at the others. My chest begins to heave up and down rapidly. Alice was staring at me, never leaving. Edward was observing everyone.

And I hope he was listening to me because I was just praying for him to take care of my family now. "You know?" I tilt my head, trying to back up again.

"That you're in the midst of a transformation?" He smiles, "yes." He answers, I feel Alice's emotions fly off the handle, not knowing what to do. I look over at her. "It's okay." I whisper.

"You're going to kill me?" My eyes flicker from him to the ones behind him. "I could. You're in your most vulnerable stage of the transformation." He informs me, confusing me since I was told there's not much information about my kind.

"You're not the only hybrid to exist." He laughs. "Wolves are such-" He pauses. "Emotional beings."

"Are you going to kill me or not?" I fold my arms. "[Name] stop-" Bella pleads, tears were etched in her eyes, tempting to fall. "There's so many decisions to make today." He says to Caius and Marcus.

"It's remarkable! Bella confounds us all and her sister... turning into one of the most powerful beings to exist. What do we do with you two now?" He grins.

"You already know what you'll do, Aro." Marcus says, seemingly bored. "Bella knows too much; she's a liability. [Name] is a danger." Caius adds on. "That's true. Unless Edward intends to give her immortality." Aro talks about Bella first, looking at Edward.

"But that's not your intention, is it. Shame." Aro nods to Felix who moves toward Bella, I'm already held back by others. But before he can he take a few steps, Edward tackles him.

"Edward don't!" Bella screams, Alice leaps to help but more Volturi guards hold her back just like me. We both struggle to get out of their grip. And I know I can take their energy but there's only so much I can take.

Edward is fast, anticipating Felix's moves but Felix is stronger. Felix grabs Edward, throwing him in the ceiling smashing against the marble he drops down and immediately kicked. "Stop this! Please!" Bella begs to Aro who ignores her to lean forward and study Edward. I look at Jane who is itching to step him but Aro gestures her to step back.

Felix takes some hits but then lifts Edward overhead, cracking him and flinging him against a wall. Bella runs to Aro but the Volturi Guard flings her away. She hits hard against the wall.

Bella gets up and kneels in front of him. "Do it! Kill me! Just leave them alone! Leave my sister alone!" She yanks her collar back, exposing her neck to them. I feel my energy leave me and it's worse than before. The warmth beginning to burn even more.

The guards were the only thing holding me up at this point. "Enough!" Aro stops Felix, he immediately releases Edward who manages to look up. "Get away from her!" Edward moves toward but gets pinned by Janes powers causing him to writhe in agony.

"Edward, stop! I've already seen it." Alice says. "Alice stay out of it." Edward says through gritted teeth.

"Alice." I attempt to say but it's getting hard to even speak. "I know what to do." She says, Aro's intrigued, he gestures Jane to stop. She does as told. "Ah yes, the clairvoyant. I saw your gift in Edward's thoughts. What is it you've seen?" Aro questions her.

"Don't" Edward warns her.

"I'm the one who will change Bella. I'll also keep [Name] away from anyone who she could hurt. She's not a danger. I can see it." She tells him, he's surprised along with Bella.

"Please, be my guest." He gestures to her. "Not here. Their father is in law enforcement. If either one goes missing there will be questions." She tells him. "He is easily dealt with." Caius rolls his eyes.

"It will happen, Aro. See for yourself." Alice stands tall. I see Edward glance back at me, the guards are still holding me back as they think I'm a threat. A threat who can barely even stand. I see him smirk at my thoughts. I wink at him.

She thrusts her hand out to Aro who nods to the guards holding he rot release her. She gives him her hand and he closes his hand. I don't know what he saw but when he let go you could see he's in disbelief but also utterly delighted. He lets go of her.

"Mesmerizing! To see the things you've seen, that haven't even happened yet!" Aro gasps. Alice moves to Edward's side, helping him up then apologizing to him.

The guards let me go and I stumble to the floor. Not able to lift myself up anymore.

"Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal. Go make your preparations." Aro tells my sister who then hurries to Edward's side, too.

I tiredly huff, trying to lift myself up. It's getting hotter. I feel sweat actually begin to start on my forehead.

"You're letting them leave?" Caius questions. I then feel multiple people lift me up, the coolness of their hands feel good contrasted with the heat erupting my body. "Dear Caius, the girl's disappearance will be conspicuous at best. And surely you see her potential." Aro argues with one of his partners.

"Let us be done with this. Heidi will arrive any moment." Marcus disinterested in what just confided.

Edward is fully recovered now, taking Bella's hand while also helping Alice with getting me out of here. Demetri leads us out of the hall.

As we make our way up the corridor, we see a group of two dozen tourists, led by a beautiful vampire. We all stop to let them pass. I watch Demetri give her a flirtatious smile. "Nice fishing, Heidi, save some for me." She smiles then gives Bella and I a curious look then continues away to the room. "This way, please. Stay together..."

As the group gets into the room we hear their horrid screams, Edward and Alice rush us out of the area.

"[Name], you can't fight this much longer." Carlisle tells me as I lay on their couch. "I don't-" I huff out in pain. "I don't have a choice." I argue with him.

I've been here for a few days after we were in Italy to save Edward. My dad thinks I'm at the hospital right now with a sickness. I get brought back to the house at night after he visits me. I thankfully got to pass out for two days. Meaning I missed a valuable conversation about Bella getting turned into a vampire. But Edward told me they figured it out to push it back a little further.

Now being in the house as the transformation only gets worse the more I fight it. "It's only going to get worse." He sits on the coffee table in front of me. It's like he's reading my thoughts. Didn't think I was in front of Edward.

I'm wearing a tank top and shorts with an ice pack on my forehead to attempt to cool the heat I feel. "It's either this or kill me already." I snap at him, gritting through my teeth with the pain.

Another episode of the heat getting to me. I start crying as it burns. "[Name] just let go." Jasper shows into my view, wiping my face. "No, no, I can't!" I cry out, holding myself in pain.

"You're hurting yourself." He replaces Carlisle from where he was sitting and grips onto my hand as I squeeze it. "It's okay." I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Why are you doing this?" He questions me. "I'll be a danger." I cry, the pain subsiding now.

"You won't Alice saw it, darling." He brings my hand closer to him, I watch him tiredly. "I haven't forgiven you guys yet... A part of me... I'm still hurt." I tell him. "What if my anger is worse and it's directed towards you guys? Either I die or you die." My breathing is starting to get frantic at the thought of them being killed by my own hands.

"We're a lot stronger than you think, [Name]." Emmett comes in with a smirk, Rosalie rolling her eyes at his words. "It's not going to happen." She lightly hits him.

"I'm not doing it." I say. "I'm going to continue to fight it." I attempt to sit up but my chest feels heavy and I fall backwards. Alice comes over with a bag of blood.

"Drink." She hands it to me. "It's human." I shake my head.

"Billy said it's one of the only things that will give you some sort of relief." She shakes it again, putting it closer to my face.

"No one was killed for it, it's Bella's she donated." Carlisle tells me and I look at the bag. "It feels wrong." I look away from it, fighting the urge to drink it.

"Stop being stubborn, please [Name]." Alice pleads with me, I stay quiet, looking at both Jasper and Alice's expressions. In an annoyed manner I grab the bag.

Opening it to drink it. Once I start I feel different. I furrow my eyebrows but continue. I feel myself actually being able to sit up. I drink the rest of it and throw the bag on the table beside Jasper. "How do you feel?" Carlisle asks.

"Amazing." I grin.

"We have a few more bags, we were told wolf blood could help too. Your friends from the Rez decided to help." Carlisle tells me, opening the fridge to show a few bags.

"It stinks but as long as you're okay." Rosalie half-heartedly jokes. I know she's serious but it brings some humor.

"They willingly went to the hospital with you there?" I ask, actually curious. "They knew it was to help you. That's all that mattered." Carlisle says, closing the fridge.

I see Alice and Jasper look at each other then at everyone else. I think they got the memo. "We're going to go hunt, we'll see you guys in a bit." Esme tells us three, gently pushing Emmett and Rosalie to start walking.

Once they're out of the house I look at the two in front of me. I sit up straight and move myself so I can look at them.

"We need to have a conversation about everything, [Name]." Alice takes one of my hands as Jasper has the other. "I know." I nod.

"You need to finish this transformation." Jasper starts, I know I'd be cut off if I even tried to disagree so I stay quiet.

"We understand your fears, but your pain is too much, soon your final transformation will be longer than it should be." Alice finishes. "How do you know that?" I fold my arms. I was told that we barely knew anything about this. How do they all of a sudden know so much.

"The Volturi dealt with it. Carlisle was there. There was a member just like you. They tried to fight it due to Aro's request. The transformation lasted days. Almost two weeks." Alice tells me with anguish lingering in her face. Her eyes flicking from my hand she held to my face.

"[Name] please get your anger with us out now. Let's talk so you feel better." Jasper says to me and I close my eyes.

"Why'd you ignore my calls?" I asked.

"It was petty. I saw you with Sam. For some reason I could see everything you did with him even though he was a wolf." Alice admits to me.

"I thought you were falling for him. It hurt to watch. Every move you made changed the out come of what was happening with Sam. If you thought of us, it was against Sam. If you were to infatuated with the moment that you were in I watched you fall in love with him." She explains everything to me, I melted a little in the couch from the thought of her watching that. Knowing she was in love with me and watching me with someone else.

"I would never get with Sam." I mutter.

"But you thought about it a few times. Rightfully as we left you the way we did. It just still hurt. I'm sorry we weren't there for you when you needed us." Alice sincerely says.

"I'm sorry we told you to leave your family too. It was a selfish request." Jasper adds in. "We want you to be okay, [Name]." He kisses my hand softly.

Cliffhanger? 🫣

Onto the next movie🤪

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A&J M.L.

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@steh-lar-uh-nuhs

@kisekihany

@aureliacorvina

@l3ejm

@marit332

@marsyay78

@small-town-wayward-daughter

@sugathy

[lemotmo]

One more! She got a follow up regarding the numbers guestimation.

A. Hi anon 🙂. It's actually relatively easy to figure out spamming. It's not a well thought out plan of action. And why I never understood why they thought it was a genius idea. My friend is a data analyst in his grown up real life so he could be much more technical than me, but I will give you the simple answer. Comment sections are full of the same blogs. The same blog names you can track from ppst to post on Instagram, Twitter and Ticktock. Same on Tumblr. The same group of blogs do all the spamming. It's also fairly easy to decipher which blogs/accounts are being run by the same person. Speech patterns, sentence structures. Posts that feel repetitive or similar to another blogs post. It's not a sophisticated tactic. And I do want to stress that there's not really anything wrong with doing it, except in this case people were doing it to send hate to the cast and to spam the shows official accounts. That's disgusting. And they deserve to be called out and busted for it.

Fandom is supposed to be fun, and it usually is. Smaller fandoms are usually the best kind of fandoms because less people usually means less manufactured drama. They tend to just stay in their lane and headcanon and fanon away with one another. It's great. All fandoms usually end up having de facto 'leader' blogs. It just happens. They tend to become the bigger voices within the fandom. Sometimes fandoms get lucky and they're legitimately cool decent people running them. Sometimes fandoms get unlucky and those blogs are run by douchebags (legit couldn't think of a nicer word, I'm so sorry). Unfortunately for you all, you wound up with the douchebags. The blogs you all ended up following the lead of were basically like politicians who had to manufacture enemies (Oliver and Ryan) and ship wars (Buddie) in order to get attention because their fandom numbers weren't big enough to garner attention any other way. That's the reality. They needed bigger numbers so they pretended to be more people. Only instead of just shipping their ship and enjoying it they used those extra blogs to openly send vile, disgusting and increasingly unhinged things to the show and its cast and anyone else who didn't ship their ship. Openly sending hate to a cast has never led to victory for shippers. It's the dumbest idea of dumb ideas. And inevitably leads nowhere. No one can outrun their hubris. And when you decide to start ranting about being sent private DM's from Tim, something that is blatantly and laughably false, it's the beginning of your end. The good news is increasing numbers of you have finally realized this and are backing away. If you genuinely enjoy the ship by all means ship it as long as it's canon, hell you can ship it once it stops being canon. That's what fandom is for. But you have to acknowledge the reality of canon. You can hate it. You can ignore it, but you have to acknowledge it. And then retreat to fanfic. It's the fandom way. But you don't get to yell and scream about homophobia and other invented wrongs because a higher number of people ship the other ship and the show doesn't appear to be telling the story that that blog and others desperately tried to convince people they were telling. Artificially inflated numbers don't change reality.

Oh, this is interesting. I had a basic understanding of how the detection of spamming worked, but this is very informative and frankly very fascinating as well.

The rest of this is, once again, serving major truth bombs. I'm in awe of the eloquence on display here. I wish I could meet the OP in real life. I have a feeling I'd love to talk fandom with them.

And it's true you know, shipping a couple doesn't have to stop because another one is canon. In fact, we are here doing the exact same thing. BT is canon right now. We know this. We accept it for what it is at the moment, but that doesn't stop us from shipping Buddie, speculating about their future, theorising what will happen in season 8, writing and reading fic, making gifsets, creating art, digging up parallels, discussing our own personal headcanons. We've been doing this for years, through multiple love interests for Buck and Eddie. We never quit and I highly doubt we ever will, canon or not canon.

Thank you again for dropping this in my ask box Nonny! :)

Remember, no hate in comments or reblogs. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of the anonymous OP’s posts, you can find all of their posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: in your own time

Aziraphale and Crowley grew up together as next-door neighbours on Hogback Lane, classmates at the local Catholic school, and inseparable best friends. By the age of eighteen, both were hopelessly in love with the other, despite the knowledge that they were doomed to live apart, as Crowley aimed to pursue university study in London and Aziraphale committed himself to remaining in Tadfield, dedicating his life to the Church. After almost twenty years spent away from his hometown, renowned botanist Crowley decides to come and visit Tadfield again at a moment's notice; the purpose of his visit is to speak at a Careers Day for the school he and Aziraphale, now a beloved priest and a frequent helper at the school, attended. The twenty-four hours that follow will change both of their lives for ever.

Length: 33,632 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, After Dark, Human AU

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

*Minor Spoilers* I'm proud to say that I was the third hit count on this one and I had no idea it was being posted. This is a STUNNING priest AU, and this is going to be a long rec post.

Crowley and Aziraphale are estranged childhood friends here. Aziraphale was put on track to become a priest, and could not walk away. Crowley had to leave and find his own path. Personally, I love that plotline because it gives me a connection to their 6,000 years of friendship that I like to see revisited in Human AUs. We only get brief flashbacks to their youth, but it is enough to know how much they loved each other then. They go through life content, but incomplete. Each aware that their soulmate is out there, but reconnection feels impossible. That magic is not gone yet, and an unexpected reunion was just the spark they needed.

Crowley's portrayal here is especially soft and tender. His blend of anxiety and genuine confidence is as charming as ever, but it's his understanding and acceptance that truly shine. He never blames Aziraphale for the way things have unfolded. There's no punishment for the past from him, only unwavering support and love. He's so loving and safe, praising and doting on Aziraphale with pet names. I know Aziraphale is going to be cared for now.

Aziraphale's relationship to God and the Church was such a gorgeous journey. He was put on this Earth to do good and provide comfort to his community. Just like the canon though he'll need to separate out the Institution (Heaven/The Church) from God. His moral compass is so strong, "heavy, gilded, reliable". He just needed to learn to trust that voice. And not the voice of those who have forced him to conform to their will. The narrative never villainizes Aziraphale for staying with the church. He just needed some separation and someone to catch him. To be shown that love is holy. The church is not God, he will not be destroyed for acting on his love. I won't quote the whole thing but on Crowley's side, there is a stunning description of what he finds holy and worth of worship. That I am going to reread 1 million times. This story speaks to the late bloomers, the closeted, and the repressed—the queers who have hidden and suppressed their desires to conform to please others. It's for those whose lives seem to have slipped by, filled with missed opportunities and immobilizing fear. It holds us close and tells us, "It's never too late, my love." I often get stuck on "lost time", times I've felt I've wasted in my life. So reading, "It's never too late to do whatever it was you were always meant to do, as long as you do it when you're ready. It's never too late to look into the future, to conceive of a world which makes you grin with excitement and banish all dread from your mind." well, it made me emotional okay!!

Oh and it's hot as fuck. So there's also that. Like seriously, it'll creep up on you here. It'll be some gorgeous line about the human condition or whatever, and then the filthiest most delicious line imaginable! It was like an electric shock to me. The confessional scene had me weak in the knees!!!! I can't say enough times I love this story. The first several chapters are safe in public, but you will hit a point that it is not! Proceed at your own pleasure

Read it here, fic by ineffabildaddy

[angelic-dew]

yandere akaza headcannons !

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍫 ୧・request :: " I really liked your yan kokushibo headcannons, can I get akaza, doma and gyutaro next plss?? "

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🍰 ୧・author's note; Just a reminder, I went through a "mood", as usual, when writing these so be prepared. Btw anon, sure but imma do them in parts, I just like doing my yandere! hcs individually. To get the others they'll be posted here when done. <3

✧༉‧₊˚୨ 🌷 ୧・pairing; akaza x g/n reader (you/your pronouns.)

✧༉‧₊˚୨ ✖ ୧・trigger warnings; body mutilation, threats, kidnapping, isolation, mentions of jealousy, death, hatred, manipulation, gaslighting, stalking, bad grammar, delusions, over-protective behaviour and gore.

⚝. Just a reminder I don't tolerate nor do I encourage the following topics in reality; I like keeping it strictly to fiction.

꒰🍰꒱. Now this was simply nostalgic. It sent him down a far and wonderous trip down memory lane when he was a human, so weak and fragile was he; he remembered the love of his life and the spark which he felt coarse through both of their bodies back then. However, it was different this time, much stronger, much more tempting and had much more control over him.

꒰🌷꒱. You, a petite, meager, little human he could practically tear apart in minutes made him feel what he thought he'd never feel again. Just from one encounter, you did that. He couldn't shake you off though, recalling the very few moments of your meeting made his heart melt in his chest. Your adorable glances, the way your eyes glistened with utter fear but yet they were so mesmerizing! you were truly out of the ordinary.

꒰🍰꒱. It was as if the bittersweet fragrance of lust followed him around playfully every time he laid his soft, golden eyes on you; his gaze strong and never daring to shift off of your exquisite physique for even a moment for every second was priceless as he watched you ever so carefully from the depths of the dark shadows. You were just so divine!

꒰🌷꒱. He watched you, intaking your presence from afar and just from that he felt like he went to the seventh heaven. As his luminescent, enthralling pupils glowed solemnly and created a soft glow within the ebony darkness; they only focussed on the most captivating treasure though, you. The most fluorescent and alluring flower the world has ever bestowed upon.

꒰🍰꒱. However, there were others, weren't there? Akaza knew someone as angelic as you had others who wanted to steal you away from him! He was a powerful demon after all, if they only knew that upper moon three places his piercing watch on you first, they would have definitely backed off by the hook of the crook.

꒰🌷꒱. But they didn't and they were innocent in their doings! Akaza knew that they were not weary that they were attempting to steal something which wasn't of their possession, unaware of the consequences; that is. He knew to a T that this was bound to happen. But he was driven by jealousy and envy, yet another feeling he couldn't shake off. It coursed through his already boiling blood.

꒰🍰꒱. Don't get me wrong, it's not like he wanted to partake in violence; but it was to be expected and he truly wasn't timid to get rid of his rivals, or should I say obstacles? As soon as he observed said problem talking to you while he was preoccupied watching you at night, as usual; its when the envy hit it straight and direct. If only looks could kill.

꒰🌷꒱. He feels betrayed by you in some way or form. You were supposed to be his! But things happen, don't they? He'll simply put the person back in their place, nothing as angelic as you could do any wrong. Therefore, even though he knew their intentions were nothing but filthy, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

꒰🍰꒱. He was torn between a rock and a hard place though. As much as he wanted to tear them limb from him, he did feel guilty that they were leading themselves to their own demise by just interacting with his angel. How selfish Akaza.

꒰🌷꒱. Sadly, his envy does have the upper hand in the end. Upper moon three takes them away at night for hours upon end of none stop torture, and he made sure to be sloppy with them.

꒰🍰꒱. Taking his ever-sweet time to deeply tear apart their delicate flesh with his sharp, razor-like pearly whites; creating large gashes and lacerations to their once blemishless skin. The oozy, irony yet succulent taste of their crimson-red blood running along his taste buds as he relishes the flavor in delight. Akaza loved the cries of agony and terror his unfortunate issues had to face at his cold-blooded hands.

꒰🌷꒱. Mercilessly, he'd begin to tear at their limbs, toying with their ligaments until it was pulled clean off with mere force; the only thing remaining was a bloody torso. The bone of the freshly mutilated limb playing a game of messing hide and seek within the muscles and meaty flesh of the wound. How sadistic. The victim was still conscious, slowly bleeding to their death. To add salt to injury, he grinned and lunged his strong hand through their chest and tugged at the strings of the heart before crushing it to bits within his palm.

꒰🍰꒱. Now this wasn't a common thing, but it did happen from time to time. It did make those wonder who lived in your village, soft sounds of pain were heard but they were all played off as delusions.

꒰🌷꒱. Akaza didn't think to kill off your family though, he knew the value of them. But one or three relatives would end up in the missing papers at one point; sooner or later, how could he even resist?

꒰🍰꒱. At one point he gets sick of actually looking at you, yes you're majestic but he wants to feel your warm body against his. To finally feel what its like to be with someone he loves and it doesn't take him long to do this, his patience grows thin quickly ever since he started watching you from afar. So he did what he had to do.

꒰🌷꒱. He appeared to you at night and you immediately recognized the towering figure which stood in front you. The same fear welled up within your eyes as he spoke up rather boldly, telling you how he felt at last that faithful night. Confessing how you drove him insane and that he needs to feel you! To have you at his right hand! To have you all for his selfish wants.

꒰🍰꒱. He wasn't the one to take no for the answer if you rejected his request to be with you, and for a matter of fact? You didn't have a say in this, your rights have been revoked. This wasn't to be a choice, it was meant to be something you had to go through.

꒰🌷꒱. So he took you, no matter if your bargained or not, it was in vain for he wasn't foolish. Your screams and cries weren't heard either, he kept a firm hand over your mouth. So cold! However, his heart was beating more than he could ever imagine as he held you against his body, your warm touch lingering on his as a faint blush spread across his cheeks from your sweet voice entering his ears. Just inhaling your scent was by itself wonderful.

꒰🍰꒱. Akaza knew you had to be isolated, he found some abandoned cabin in the depths of a dense forest and made a home for you there. For now, this shall be where you rest with him for all your years.

© angelic-dew :: please don't re-claim or translate without permission! <3

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 17)

I swear this story—if I’m not sick every time I promise a chapter update, it’s something else. This time, my daughter went to the ER for a head injury. She’s totally okay but it was awful.

So . . . some of you astutely noticed that I told AO3 this story would end at 18 chapters.

That was true until I spent a day in the ER, and now I know there’s no way I can get Chapter 17 out in its full form tonight—but I really wanted to give you all something to read today. So, I’m cutting Chapter 17 into two pieces, which means there will be 19 total chapters of this great beast.

All this to say, we’re reaching the end of a very long, very convoluted road. I want to really thank everyone for following along, even though I went through multiple spells of not writing/posting.

Also, we’ve heard a lot from Scully these past 16 chapters . . . so I thought you all might be interested in seeing what Mulder’s up to :) :) :)

Every time his axe splits open a new log, Mulder cringes at the loud whack that reverberates through the forest. He’s officially been in hiding for eight days now here in this lakeside cabin, and he hasn’t quite gotten over the feeling that someone is watching him, waiting to swoop in and carry him off to a gruesome death.

In the growing twilight, he wipes at his brow and stares at the lake spread out before him. It’s frosty and bitterly cold and the shoreline is studded with heavy chunks of ice. Over the past week, he’s gotten decently good at making fires to keep himself warm in the unheated log cabin, and even though those fires send up smoke signals through the chimney, he’s pretty confident no one has been following him. Plus, it’s far too cold to go to bed without a fire. Scully would be so proud.

Scully.

A lancing pain sings through his chest.

He still has to shut his eyes every time he thinks about that last day in the house. He hadn’t actually expected Scully to fall asleep with him, but he couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. Neither of them would have lasted through a tearful goodbye. More likely, she would have run after him, and the Gunmen, Skinner, and Alan would have had to hold her back. It would have been violent and painful. It was nice, instead, to simply listen to her deep, peaceful breathing for several long minutes, to savor the feeling of her warm body pressed to his, to inhale her scent, to trace the line of her nose with his eyes, to commit it all to memory. And then, to softly, softly press his lips to her temple before quietly, gently extracting himself from their tangled limbs. He allowed himself only one parting glimpse at her, and then he left.  

When the memory of that moment begins to overtake him, he turns his thoughts to all the ways Scully probably wants to kill him now. If he knows anything about Scully, it’s that she was raging mad when she woke up and found him gone. Hell, she probably took it out on the Gunmen and Skinner. That would’ve been fun to see. He huffs a laugh, setting down his axe. If she ever did find him somehow, she’d probably shoot him in the shoulder again just for the hell of it.

After not saying goodbye, Mulder then spent a day and a half chugging up the coast in a discrete little Taurus the Gunmen provided. Once he was deep into northern Maine, he spent a few long hours anxiously searching for the house Frohike had assured him existed near this particular lake. Unmarked roads, misleading snow-packed paths, crumbling one-lane bridges, and steep, muddy inclines made the house nearly impossible to locate, and only by pure luck did he finally spy it just as the sun began to set. It was a good thing, he had to admit, that this cabin was so difficult to find. Out here in the blasted middle of nowhere, with thick pine forests and snow drifts six feet high and not a single other soul for miles and miles and miles, he could be undiscoverable forever.

But as safe and remote as it is, it’s not in this lakeside cabin that he plans to spend the rest of his days. No, he has to get out of the States and into friendlier fields. Every time he thinks about the next phase of his escape plan, a nervous pit settles in his stomach. Tomorrow morning, he will depart this cabin forever and drive into Canada, crossing the border with documents that Frohike himself created. Any time he starts to get anxious, it’s this part of the plan that gives him the confidence he needs to go forward. Frohike wouldn’t fail him.  

So tomorrow when the sun rises, he will leave, bidding a final farewell to all the ties that bind him to his former life. Once inside the borders of Canada, he’ll be totally on his own. No one will know where he goes next, not even Frohike. It’s for his own safety, and theirs, he reminds himself. But still . . . from tomorrow on, he will be untraceable. Even if someone wanted to find him, they wouldn’t be able to.

His heart clenches painfully at the thought of taking that final, treacherous step into total isolation. Up until this point in his journey, he has still been tethered—somewhat tenuously, through Frohike—to his old life, his old existence. But tomorrow, he’ll be lost forever. Tomorrow marks the point of no return.

He shoves away the thought as brutally as he can, forcing himself to recite the mantra that has helped him get out of bed every morning since he got here. She’s safe, she’s happy, she’s safe, she’s happy.

But, god, at what cost?

He tries not to curse himself for the things he failed to do with Scully. For pushing her away when she reached for him on the bed. For telling her no, no, they can’t take that final step together, they shouldn’t be intimate with each other . . . why the hell did he do that again? He swears out loud, angered by the memory. She was desperate for him, begging with him, her pleas like something out of his most erotic fantasies. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. And he should have just had her, just that one time. Just for the memories, if nothing more. He shouldn’t have ever left her with any doubt about the way he loved her.

A bird screeches high in the trees and he startles. His eyes search the treetops before settling on a pair of magpies pestering a giant hawk. With cold, aching hands, he gathers a bundle of split logs in his arms and trudges up to the house, locking the door behind him. Because old habits die hard, he’s been sleeping on the living room couch right beside the main fireplace, and it’s here that he starts building his fire. In an hour, he’ll make yet another PB&J and try to read a book he found in the home’s voluminous bookshelves. His go-bag is stored right beside the door, and his weapon rests under a pillow on the couch. He sincerely hopes that he never has to use it again.

Many hours later, Mulder wakes to a frigid house. Cursing under his breath, he stands creakily and adds a few logs to the dying fire, tending to it as carefully as he would an infant. Darkly, he wonders what would even happen if he froze to death in this cabin. Who would find his body? And how long would it take for him to be discovered here? In what stage of decomposition would they find him? Would they ship him off to Scully for an autopsy? Would there even be a funeral?

He snorts and a flame licks up through the logs, sending a burst of heat into the room. He won’t be dying tonight. He glances at his watch in the firelight and notes wryly that it is nearing three a.m. The witching hour. Chills that have nothing to do with the cold run up his spine and he settles back onto the sofa, suddenly wide awake.

It is a near-constant battle not to think about her. He imagines that someday, far in the distant future, he will no longer think of her every minute of every hour. That maybe someday, he won’t wake up to a strange mixture of relief and regret: relief that she is safe; regret that he didn’t have enough of her.

A noise outside catches his attention and every muscle in his body freezes. The fire sparks and crackles and he strains his ears, listening intently. Prey that he is, he has become carefully attuned to every type of sight and sound and smell out here in the woods. Most noises can be attributed to nature—animals scrounging nearby, branches breaking off of trees, melting ice cracking on the lake.

But this particular sound has a different sense about it. It’s the creeping, hulking sound of something heavy moving across snow.

A car. And it’s driving very slowly, very quietly up the ridge to the house.

His brain slips instantly into FBI mode. He snatches up his gun, shucks on his jacket, and slips into his boots. Throwing the go-bag over his shoulder, he crouches low beneath the front room window, adrenaline pumping so hard through his veins he feels like he could crush steel between his hands.

How did they find him here? And how will he escape? Should he run for the car? It’s parked out front, which means any escape would necessarily involve passing by the car coming up the hill—

With unblinking eyes, he peers into the blackness outside until it finally comes into view, an unfamiliar black sedan, headlights killed, tires inching meticulously along the ground, as if the driver doesn’t want to make a sound. When the car comes to a stop at the front of the house, Mulder raises his gun, surprised to find his hand shaking.

How did it come to this already? Should he run into the woods? Or stand his ground and fight?

For a long minute, nothing happens, and he wonders if he should preemptively shoot at the driver’s side window. But that would be a mistake. He would give away his position. What he’s going to do is wait for the person—or people—to exit the vehicle, and then he’ll fire—

The car door swings open smoothly, soundlessly. A person steps out, their aspect unrecognizable in the dark. They shut the car door quietly and begin to walk towards the house, scanning their surroundings furtively. He can’t make out facial features because of a dark mask pulled up over the person’s nose and mouth and a hood cinched tight over their head. Loose clothing hangs off their body and a gun dangles from their right hand.

The person is close now, just five feet away. Now four feet, now they’re climbing the stairs. Mulder swallows thickly. When that door opens, he’ll have one chance to shoot. And if there are others waiting in the car . . . he’ll have to run. His entire body tenses. He’s a coiled snake, a viper waiting to inject the venom—

There’s a quiet knock at the door.

It surprises him so much that his brain sputters.

What the hell kind of assailant announces their arrival with a pleasant knock?

Stealthily, he rises and makes his way to the door. He knows this could very well be a trap. There could be machine guns on the other side of that door, ready to blast him to bits; or a host of feds could crawl out of the sedan and swoop in the minute that door opens—

The door handle jiggles and he startles. Jesus Christ, they’re trying to get in now. He raises his weapon again. His heart is beating hummingbird-fast.

Another knock, this time louder, and another try at the door handle.

And then—

“Mulder? It’s me.”

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Finding Each Other-Chapter 2

Fandom: Superman, Batman, Shazam, and Wonder Woman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Dick Grayson, Diana Prince, Billy Batson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Kara Zor El, Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth, Lex Luthor, Jonathan Kent, Connor Kent

Summary: Clark Kent always knew he wanted a family. He just always thought it would be traditional like his parents. Little did he know that destiny had something different in store for him.

Chapter 1

Clark flew to the Gotham City Culture Museum Friday night in record time. He barely made it on time because he wanted to make sure to get Lois a care package after her procedure was done. He wanted to make sure she was comfortable and had stuff to do since she was always one that is on the go. He got her several murder mysteries that she had been wanting to read but never had the time for, a bubble bath kit, a box of caramel chocolates, and an electric blanket. Lois looked all cozy when he left her. As he landed, he thought about what his game plan was for tonight. Clark tapped his chin as he quickly exited the alley he landed in and headed up the museum steps. 

Maybe I could hang out with Lois later tonight depending on how long this thing lasts. 

The museum was supposed to give a presentation, followed by food, and then let the guest walk through their main exhibit: City of Atlantis. According to the notes Perry gave Lois, Bruce was supposed to be making his grand debut with his son there. Clark thought it would be easy to spot a single dad with his son since usually, these late-night museum events tended to have mostly adults. However, Clark was startled when he walked in and saw numerous of the upcoming and wealthy with their families browsing around. 

Clark raised an eyebrow. 

If Bruce is really here with his kid tonight, the setup is quite clever. Since there have been no recent photos of Bruce since he was 15 and no photos of his new child, they could easily blend into the crowd without anyone knowing.

Clark sighed while rolling his eyes.

This is a reporter’s worst nightmare. There are at least 500 people here tonight. No way I am finding Wayne without him or the boy doing or saying something flashy. 

Clark shook his head and was able to go to a table and take a seat when he heard someone said, “Surprised to see you in a place like this.”

Clark froze for a second when he heard that voice. It was a voice he was hoping to never hear from again. He sighed as he turned around and saw his ex Lex Luthor standing behind him. 

Of course, my ex would be here when I am out on assignment. 

Lex and Clark used to date when they were in college. As it edged towards their graduation, they discovered that they had fundamental differences in how they wanted to spend the rest of their lives. Clark had always wanted kids. He dreamed of being even half the man his Pa was. However, Lex absolutely despised kids. He thought they were vile creatures. Clark never understood that because everyone was a kid once. Clark asked Lex once how he was able to survive childhood without interacting with any kids. He said that his parents had him home-schooled because his intellect was far superior to the kids in his age group. That should have been a red flag for Clark, but for some reason, Clark hoped that Lex was just kidding. 

However, Clark learned quickly that wasn’t the case. When they graduated, Lex just wanted Clark to follow him to Luthor Corp and work in his father’s company. Clark thought about it since they did have a print division, however, Lex wanted Clark to only work as his assistant while Lex continued to build up his own career. Clark wanted to support Lex in his career endeavors, but he didn’t feel that he should have to put his aspirations on hold for Lex to soar. However, Lex wanted Clark’s devotion only to him. Clark broke up with him after that which Lex didn’t take too well. He blackballed Clark in about every newspaper market except for one: The Daily Planet in Metropolis. The only reason why Perry White, the head of the paper, took a chance on Clark was because he hated Lex’s guts, and Lex couldn’t blackmail Perry after recently losing the libel lawsuit with the Daily Planet. Ever since then, Clark avoided him like the plague. Luckily, Clark was always hesitant about sharing his powers with Lex and he didn’t start his superhero duties until after they broke up. He can’t imagine what Lex would do if he had that information hanging over his head.

Clark sighed and said, “You know that I have always been a fan of museums”. 

Lex smirked and said, “Oh, so that is why you are here. I assume that the insignificant paper….hmmm…what’s it called?… The Daily Planet sent you here on assignment. I know you like museums but invitations to this event only went out to high-ranking families that are honestly out of your wage bracket.”

Clark was fuming internally but he schooled his face to remain passive. 

Lex just wants a rise out of me to boost his ego.

Lex came closer and tried to caress his face, but Clark recoiled back which caused Lex’s smirk to falter, but quickly came back on his face. 

“Don’t be like that love. Obviously, your career choices aren’t panning out if they are just having you go to assignments like these. I remember you saying you wanted to use your writing and interviewing skills to change the world. If they were just going to have you do this drivel, you should have just come with me to Luthor Corp. I could have found better things to do with your time.”

Clark narrowed his eyes at Lex. 

The nerve of this asshole to think my life can only be better because of him. I don’t have time to play these mind games. 

Clark took a deep breath. He could be honest about being here to cover for a friend. However, he knew that Lex wouldn’t believe any of that. He would have to do something that he wasn’t very proud of but it would be effective to get Lex off his back.

Clark smirked and asked, “Who said anything about me being on assignment? I am here for pleasure.”

Lex scoffed and asked, “You’re here for pleasure. I find that interesting. Since the paper didn’t send you and I know you aren’t rich, please pray tell how you were able to get into the event tonight?”

Clark chuckled and said, “I do have a life outside of my job, Lex. I am here with my fiancé and his kid browsing around. They went to grab seats since I was running late. Traffic from Metropolis to Gotham was brutal.”

Lex looked at Clark startled. Clark smirked. 

It never occurred to him that I could move on without him. 

The lights started flashing indicating that the presentation was about to start in a minute. 

Clark flashed a bright smile and said, “Well, it was interesting speaking with you, but I should be going. I don’t want my fiancé and his kid to worry.”

With that, Clark quickly walked away leaving a dumbfounded Lex behind. Clark hated being petty and knew that his Ma would frown on behavior like that, but the look on Lex’s face was worth it.

Read the rest on AO3

[oftenderweapons]

Natural Connection | KNJ | Ch.6

A Small Town Swoons

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Plum)

Wordcount: 6.6k

Genre: stragers to lovers, fluff, mild angst; ranger/trainer!Namjoon, Chef!reader

Rating: 18+

Synopsis: Namjoon has some skeletons in his closet. Plums helps him bury them in a way that makes him feel almost reborn.

Warnings: discussion of mature topics: sex, emotional abuse. A painful trip down memory lane, burnout, anxiety. Also heavy flirting, making out and loads of raunchy jokes. Mentions of depression, therapy and feeling out of chances to restart

A/N: I’m posting this in some sort of a rush while barely keeping my eyes open,it’s not edited or reviewed, I just want it out there for you to read 💜 I’ll review it in the morning and add links. Love ya 💖✨🥺

Here is my Masterlist, enjoy!

Navi: Part 1 – Part 2 — Part 3 – Part 4 - Part 5

“Lone wolf. That's not a cute way to spend the night.” Jackson's words were just mildly teasing. He was mostly compassionate as he sat beside Namjoon at the counter of the bar. “What's given you the blues?” 

Namjoon shook his head and took a sip of beer. He had never been much of a drinker, and he regretted not being able to hold his liquor properly, because tonight really called for some hard spirits. “Nothing really.” 

“It's her, isn't it? Your Tinkerbell lady.” 

Namjoon grumbled and groaned, letting his head fall to his wrists, current laying crossed on top of the counter. 

“Hey, dude, we thought we'd lost you,” said Christopher as he approached the other two men at the bar. “Oh. I see,” he said as he made himself comfortable on Namjoon's other side. “We all have a vague idea of what happened the other day when you followed her to the bathroom,” Christopher hinted, then rubbed Namjoon's shoulder. “Wanna talk about it?” 

He shook his head, than took a large sip of his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and put down the glass, quite loudly too. 

“I did something, but I don't know what. And today she said she needed a day off. And now I'm wondering if I did something wrong, whether it's my fault she cancelled on today, whether I made her uncomfortable and am now ruining her holiday — something she hadn't had in a very long time.”

“Namjoon—” 

“Maybe I'm not as good a friend with benefit as I thought’d been. Maybe I'm not an easy hot-girl-summer kind of thing. Maybe I suck in bed—” 

“Not unlikely,” muttered Jackson, at which both Namjoon and Christopher snapped in his direction, as if throwing daggers with their gazes. 

“Oh, come on, there's a possibility to it, you've been out of the market for a long while!” 

Christopher grabbed the tray of shots and started making his way to the table where the other guys were hanging out, while Jackson convinced Namjoon to join them. 

“Dude, we've found a way to make this party less about you!” Jackson hollered at Jaebeom, currently wearing a cute set of antlers and a sash that spelled “This dancing queen is getting married”. Very cute, and Namjoon appreciated the Mamma Mia reference. 

“Namjoon is having issues with Plum.” 

He rolled his eyes at your nickname being used by them. They always called you Tinkerbell anyways, why the sudden change? That was his own nickname for you, because of your cute, round face, and soft soft lineaments. And then also because of the taste of sun-dried plums in your mouth that time he kissed you in the pond, after that first, wondrous fuck. Maybe he hadn't satisfied you. Maybe his performance in the bathroom hadn't been as stellar. Maybe you'd already grown bored of him. 

“They're not issues,” Namjoon mumbled, vaguely grumpy. 

“Well, what are they, then? You fucked her and she's ghosting you?” Wooyoung asked bluntly. 

“Woo, no need to use that kind of language,” Christopher reprimanded. “Still, could that be the reason? She's maybe… Embarrassed about something that occurred the other day in the…” 

“You did it in the restroom!?” Mingi exclaimed. 

“A bit louder, Mingi, I think the guy in the corner over there didn't hear it clearly,” said Jaebeom with an eyeroll. 

“It was strange when we parted, yes, but… I guess there would have been other uhm… uncomfortable moments before. She would have bailed after the— uhm— the restroom. Not today? Why today? Why let so much time pass by?” 

Namjoon had always been an overthinker. He'd managed to control his tendencies through meditation and therapy, but once an overthinker, always an overthinker. Sure, you can put a damper on it, but it would be like putting a hyena in a clown costume: at the end of the day, it would still be a hyena. 

And he was struggling to find the words. He did not have the lingo for this. He did not have the nerves for this. He had not been mentally, emotionally engineered for this. 

“I know I fucked up. I'm sure I fucked up. I don't know where or how but—” 

“When I met my wife, I was a mess.” Jaebeom ran a hand through his hair and gave a weak chuckle. “I couldn't do without her. I spent weeks, months pining.” 

“It's your future wife, JB,” Jackson clarified.

“Fuck off, we're getting married, she's already my wife in my mind. One could argue she’s always been,” he snapped, a certain possessiveness taking over. “Anyways, I was saying, before this cold hearted snake interrupted—” 

“You were messing around, I made a move so you could feel the bitter bite of jealousy and realise you were wasting your time and your energies!” 

“As always, thank you for the lesson, but you didn't need to shove your tongue down her throat!” Jaebeom hissed at Jackson, then rolled his eyes. “Again, I was a mess. And I didn't know it, but she was a mess too. We only managed to fix it when we dragged our heads out of the sand and finally stated what we wanted.”

“Which, again, is something we told you to do cause you were a lowly little coward,” Christopher muttered. 

“Okay, whatever, just do what these two tell you to do,” Jaebeom said, exhausted, rubbing his face and picking up a glass shot. “Cheers to my wife, or whatever.”

“Poor woman,” Jackson whispered, which earned him a stormy look from the husband-to-be. “Anyways, what’s holding you back from going there and telling her what you want?”

“The fact that maybe I don’t even know what I want?” Namjoon but back, not without some exasperation. 

“What do you mean?” Christoper’s question was direct, firm. 

“I was… I haven’t been all that… active, lately.”

“By lately he means in the past eight years.” Everybody but Jackson turned to Namjoon, eyes wide, mouth gaping, the picture of disbelief. 

“What the fuck.” Wooyoung’s face was ashen before he shook his head lightly, “And why, for the love of holy smokes, did you punish yourself so?”

Namjoon stared at a glass shot, which Jackson noticed. He grabbed one shot for himself, one for his friend, then handed it over. 

Namjoon stared at it, but Jackson was already clinking their glasses together. “For the incredible woman who brought you back to life.”

“Life is fucking terrifying,” Namjoon whispered, anxiety bleeding out of him. But Jackson was tipping the glass over, the burning tang of tequila dribbling down his throat. 

“It really is, but you loved doing her, or you wouldn’t have done that twice.”

Namjoon’s brain promptly produced a supercut of every naked inch of your body, every curve, every movement, every flop of your hair, every gasp of your mouth, every droplet of moisture that your bodies shared in those moments. He recalled the feel of your breasts in his palms, the pressure of your behind as you ground against his groin. 

“Twice?” Mingi inquired, interested. 

“I’m not going to elaborate on that.”

Christopher respected the boundary, seeing Namjoon’s pained and tired expression. “What do you want from her?”

Namjoon shook his head. “I’ve got no idea. She’s leaving in a couple days. I mean, she’s lovely. But I’m not sure there’s enough time or space to build something more.”

“But you want more?”

“I do, eventually. But I thought it would happen with someone a bit more… Rooted. Here.” He was destroyed, Jackson could tell. Namjoon’s hair was all over the place with the way he’d tortured it with his hands. “But then she happened.”

“And it changed things, right?” Jaebeom asked. 

Namjoon stared at his feet. “The sex is so good. Just so, insanely, otherworldly, unbelievably good.”

“Let’s also say your terms of comparison were scarce,” Jackson added, teasing.

Namjoon smirked, then stared at Jackson for a long, loaded instant. “Both things can be true.” Then, he shrugged, toying with his fingers, smiling at himself. 

“He’s smitten,” Jaebeom said to no one in particular. 

“I guess I am,” he finally admitted. “Maybe it’s because the sex is good. That tends to alter your perception. I also think she’s attractive, and her energy is incredible. She’s also guarded, somehow, and delicate. It really makes me want to stand tall for her.”

“Knight in shining armour,” Wooyoung said with just a pinch of sarcasm in his tone.

“Which she doesn’t need,” Namjoon commented, puffing out his chest. “She’s just… She’s tough, but I just want her to know she doesn’t need to be when she’s around me. That’s what I like, I guess. And she’s unstoppable. She’s not the kind that would lie to you or put on an act to save her ass. She takes what she wants and she weathers the consequences of her own actions. And she’s a leader, she’s got backbone, she works great in a team, people see her, see how competent and hard-working she is, and they respect her for it.”

“Dude, you really are smitten.”

Namjoon grabbed another shot, and the other men quickly joined him. “To life-changing women,” said Jaebeom. 

Namjoon could happily toast to that. 

There… Just… there. 

So close. The lights were insulting his eyes, but his vision was clear. Oh so clear. 

The alcohol had made his eyes glossy and sensitive. And there. There, your door. 

He brought himself to climb the steps, then knock at the door. 

He wondered whether you were in bed. Maybe in the shower, maybe you were already asleep. Maybe you were… like that one time… 

His ears strained, searching for signs of you. 

He knocked again. He could call your phone, right? Did he have your number?

He could— 

The door opened before him, and you were standing there, an oversized white shirt covering your body all the way down to your knees. The fabric was thin and the chill night air was making your breasts peak. The sight of Namjoon right in front of you didn’t help at all. 

“Hi,” you said, a little breathless, and surprised too. 

“Hi.” The greeting was sharp, a little rushed. “I really would like to kiss you right now. Is that okay with you?”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Then nodded. 

He was upon you before you could even register him, or parse your agreement. His breath had the lightest taste of liquor, and his mouth was hot, as hot as his hands now cupping your face, gathering your face up close to his own. If he could have swallowed you, he would have. He dove for you and you soared for him and you met in between, perfectly, gentle but sure at first, and then it spiraled. 

This is what Icarus must have felt as he reached for the sun, you think, because you feel like burning and flying and falling. But isn't flying something like falling without ever hitting the ground? 

That's how you feel. 

Gravity isn't working where you and Namjoon kiss. It's not working as he wraps and links and loops his limbs through yours, legs and arms and wrists and ankles like ivy. Your thighs are around his waist, and he's holding you up by your hips, then your ass. 

“I'm coming in,” he says and you nod against his lips, waiting for him to come inside you, and you grind against him. Instead he chuckled against your throat, catching the double entendre. “I meant I'm entering your apartment.” 

You purred, heat warming your cheeks, but you were not sure whether it was embarrassment or pleasure. “But you could get inside me next.” 

“There's stuff I need to tell you,” he whispered close to your ear. 

“Can you tell me while you're inside me?” 

Namjoon's laugh was bright and glorious, perfectly rough and warm, the most tasteful combination of a scratch and a caress. “Plum, you're insatiable.” 

You looked at him with surprise, and just a pinch of innocence too. “I— Am I?” 

He closed the door with his foot, still holding you up in the entryway. “It's positively surprising. And very lovely.” 

You nodded to yourself in slow understanding. “Lovely…” you mused. “I never thought I would become something like this.” 

“Like what?” 

“Insatiable. Obsessed. Weak and dependent.” 

“You're absolutely not weak. And maybe it's not too bad to depend on someone every now and then.” His nose traced the column of your neck. “And it feels nice, knowing that you're a bit hung up.” 

You cant your hips just right against his, which causes you both to moan, your frown disappearing. “‘A bit hung up’ doesn't even cover half of it, trust me.” 

Your short nails bite the nape of his neck and he gasps a little, his hips giving the lightest stroke.

“I'm a bit of all of that too,” Namjoon confesses. “Insatiable. And obsessed. And… And weak.” He shakes his head, then hides his face against the slope of your neck. “I…” 

You smiled as he lost his words again, his mouth focusing on sucking at your throat. 

Your chuckle came out lightheaded and euphoric. It stopped entirely as he fixed his grip on your hips, lifting you higher up with a little bounce, and then lowering you again, against his crotch. 

You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on anything but the burning need at your core. 

He nibbled at your collarbone, then whispered, “Fuck, you're so wet.” There was tension in his voice, conflict. “But I've gotta tell you all of that.” 

“We can do this, and then talk,” you suggested again, your voice coming out barely patient, and strained. Oh, and imploring too. 

He shook his head, then put you down. “Talk first, then I'll do anything you want, Plum.” 

You pouted, which almost broke his resolve, but he caressed your cheek and your frown disappeared like a spring cloud. 

“First, I just want to make sure you didn't stay in today because you were avoiding me.” His eyes betrayed a sliver of insecurity before he looked away, staring at the floor. 

You’re caught off guard by his statement, and you’re not sure how to reply. Did he really think—? “Absolutely not!” You exclaimed, hooking your pointer finger beneath his chin and bringing his eyes to yours. “No, Namjoon. Sure, I’ve been…” You searched for the right word for a couple seconds, “Confused. By some of the things I felt yesterday. But I am not avoiding you at all. I just needed to be off today, and rest. And maybe think about some stuff, but none of it had to do with you,” you stated, reassuringly and firmly, then reconsidered, a coy warmth creeping to your cheeks. “Well, maybe it had the tiniest bit something to do with you. But not in a bad way. Actually in a very good, very mature, very grown-up way.”

Namjoon almost startled at your statement, his head jerking back slightly. “Oh. Wow. Okay.” 

“Oh goodness, you thought I was avoiding you?” You asked him, a smile spreading all over your face. “Really!?” 

“No,” he said, the vowel stretching, his intonation absolutely hesitant, absolutely doubtful, and very, very embarrassed. 

You threw your arms around him, gluing your body to his. “Oh god. Joon, no.” You laid a couple kisses on his chest, then added, “Absolutely not.”

“Good,” he stated. “Still, I was absolutely sure you weren’t avoiding me. So this statement is totally unnecessary and it doesn’t calm my nerves at all, because they were already one hundred percent calm.”

You roll your eyes and place your forehead and nose in a way that aligns perfectly with the valley between his pectorals. “Good, now can you calm my own? Historically, someone telling you ‘I need to tell you something’ doesn’t end in a nice way.” The nervous chuckle you emit then is a clear testament to how much he has become to you. How much you have elaborated in the last hours, corroborating your decisions. 

This is not going to be forever, you think, but I wouldn’t mind if it lasted a bit more. 

Namjoon caressed your head, kissing the crown of it. “It’s nothing big, really. Just a tiny bit of backstory that I think you should know. It sorts of explains some parts of me that could be complicated to other people. Parts I would like you to know about.”

Summertime must be approaching, or maybe the heating came on: anyways you’re feeling hotter and hotter, and you’re pretty sure it’s a flock of tropical birds that is currently storming your stomach. 

“Okay.”

”Let’s get comfy, shall we?”

You agree, then lead him through the room. It’s not the first time he sees it, after all he did sleep here with you a couple nights ago, before he left at dawn for some reason, leaving you on the verge of insanity with desire and doubt both.

He sits at the edge of the bed and you stand before him, ready to climb astride him, except he shakes his head and smiles mischievously. “No way this is happening,” he teased, then slid slightly to his right, avoiding your other leg, letting you sit at his side rather than on top of him. “You’re too dangerous sitting on my lap, Plum.”

He says it in a way that makes it sound like a compliment, and you grin, eyeing him seductively. “Thank you.”

You both turn to each other, and he starts talking. “It’s been a while since I did this, you know. Being… Being intimate with someone.”

You nodded. “You mentioned something about a relationship you used to be in.”

He grabbed your hand, toying with your fingers, looking away, as if retracting within himself. “I’ve had one very long relationship. From fifteen, all the way to twenty years old circa.”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline. “Wow.” 

“We were extremely close friends at first, then we sort of merged into the relationship until… I guess we just became too different to ever truly be one.”

You nodded encouragingly. 

“Her mom and mine were colleagues when we moved here. I was five or six.” His eyes connected to yours. “I was shy and she was very outgoing. We became friends. Or rather, she befriended me. I was one of those puffy, awkward kids, sort of a nerd too.”

He shrugged and blushed, his eyes gleaming. “In middle school she suddenly changed. She had one of those incredible glow ups. I guess puberty hit her like — I don’t know — suddenly she looked like Aphrodite’s favourite child. She was… She was like a goddess. Being attracted to her was inevitable. I liked her as a person, because she was my first friend here, and because I felt comfortable around her, and she didn’t make fun of me like other people, she didn’t act like I was weird and weak and chubby and awkward. And even though she became so beautiful, and so popular too, she was still kind to me, and treated me like a person.” Namjoon slumped, his stance turning self-protective.  

“Once we hit high school, she’d learned how to use the body genetics had gifted her. She filled it with confidence, and it rewarded her in return. Her attitude and her looks were the kind that spells trouble for a hormonal teenage boy. But despite that, I still cherished her the most as a friend, and the fact that she continued protecting me in front of popular kids making fun of me was really meaningful. I admired her for how she stood up in front of mean kids. She had the kind of influence that could make other kids respect me, or at least tolerate me.”

You held his hand fondly. “I get it.”

His eyes met yours with gratitude, and a pinch of hesitation. 

“And then I turned fifteen.”

You lick your lips, tip your head to the side and observe the smirk on his face. “In about three months, I grew taller than all the kids in my class, and though I wasn’t bulky like the football athletes, I played basketball with a friend of mine, and that kept me pretty fit, plus there was all the trekking and some climbing, and the canoeing too. I was also quite smart, and for some reason, some girls liked that. When we got back to school after summer break, I caught this girl’s eye. We were chatting, and things were getting personal and I ended up confiding in my friend, Aria.” His eyebrow quirked. “She didn’t take it well.”

You frowned, then waited for him to continue. 

“She gave me the silent treatment for three days straight. Meanwhile I was getting closer and closer to the other girl. One day I was talking to her by the lockers, and next thing I know, Aria is gripping my hand, gluing her body to my arm, and kissing my cheek. ‘Hi boyfriend,’ she said.” He shook his head. “The other girl didn’t take it well. She thought I was playing her.” He rubbed the hand across his face. “It took me years to make up for that.” He shook off the feeling, then continued, “By the end of the week, the entire school knew Aria and I were a thing. The week after that, we were making out pretty much anywhere, anytime. I guess it took us about a month before things got extremely serious, and Aria got on birth control because her mother was terrified at the thought of her getting pregnant, and teenage moms were so common back then, and she knew Aria was not really the religious type. She also had the kind of body that gets hyper sexualised because of pornography, you know. Of course any teenage boy would want to see it naked as soon as possible. And eventually do things with. Or have things done by. You get what I mean,” he concluded. 

You nodded. “Did you?” 

He laughed. “I was terrified. I wouldn’t have known where to start with it. And sure, I watched as much porn as any other dude my age, but it’s not like I was eager to reenact it in real life. It felt complicated, and loud, and dirty. So damn dirty.” He frowned and smiled at the same time. “It didn’t feel right.”

You study his face, the slight repulsion he seems to radiate from his body. 

“Then one night we were watching a movie — which actually means we were making out in my bed — and we were so damn close, and of course my body went haywire and… Let’s say she realised I was pretty interesting down there.”

You furrow your brow, trying to understand what he’s implying. “You mean…?” 

“She’d never felt me up, and that night she realised I was big.” The words didn’t come out with arrogance, but with a dry matter-of-factness. 

Your eyes widen suddenly, and he laughs a little, the sound deep and warm, and it sends tingles down your spine. “Oh.”

“That’s about what I said, too.” He smirked, blushing wildly. “Luckily I managed to hold her back that night, because I truly wasn’t ready, and I really wanted to get things right. So I bought condoms online, because I was too ashamed to buy them in person, and I kind of panicked for three days straight because I was terrified my mom or my dad would find out and get mad or make fun of me or whatever. And I did some research on… You know. The kind of stuff you have to erase from your browsing history.”

You chuckle, nodding. Hearing all of this is somehow fascinating. Knowing he was so clumsy, so embarrassed, and yet so committed to making it as safe and right and good as possible. It’s endearing somehow. Not only is he a good man now, but he was a good boy too, and it makes him shine even brighter to your eyes, this commitment to goodness.

“Still, I was not ready, emotionally. But she was impatient, and in the end I said, ‘screw it’ and I gave in. We were sixteen, we were two days into winter break, and this friend of mine has this little cottage by a small lake. He’d left me the keys to the cottage. We went there, and we had sex. I was terrified I was going to hurt her, because I’d read about first time sex being painful and all the fuss about hymens et cetera. But it went surprisingly well. I came in about fifteen seconds.”

You both laugh. “I guess I got lucky.”

He eyes you significantly. “You’ve got no idea how much.” 

“And then?” 

“And then we spend the entirety of winter break doing stuff.” He shrugs. “I could have done without, sometimes, but she was always trying to start trouble. And I wasn’t too strong about telling her no. But let’s be clear, it’s not like she was abusive or something, I was happy to have sex with her. I liked it a lot, and she had my consent, always, before doing things. But at the same time, I knew I was losing some of my connection with her. There was less talking, less quality time, less… We were having sex all the time. We didn’t watch movies, we didn’t read books, we didn’t hang out or you know, the stuff you actually share with someone. All we had was each other’s body and our own. There’s only so much a brain can feed off that. But we weathered it. And she was possessive, so it’s not like I had the chance of finding that with someone else. And the sex made me feel so lucky, knowing that I had someone who loved me so fiercely, someone so out of my league — it all made me feel like I should be grateful and I would be an idiot complaining, or looking for anything else, or trying to change the situation in any way.”

That’s when the pain starts to blossom in your chest. “So you start neglecting your emotional needs.” 

Namjoon nods slowly. “That. Precisely.” His eyes focus on your hands again, trying to avoid your face because he knows his expression might show too much now. “But we’re seventeen by this point. The sex starts to slow down, and we get some of the friendship back. I get a lot less awkward around eighteen, and my resumé is one of the brightest in my class. I’m in the debate team, and I’m in national competitions for writers. I write poetry, and short stories too; I win some prizes, I get published in a paper, then in a review.” 

“That’s impressive.” 

“I’m starting to live my dream life. I get selected in a summer programme for young writers. Aria is very proud of me. I get better at sex too, in the meanwhile.” He gives a boyish shrug. “I start planning my life with her at my side. By the time high school ends, I’ve managed to get a bit less awkward too, and Aria has fixed my haircut and my wardrobe. She gets selected by a university in California for a volleyball scholarship. It scares the shit out of me, but she accepts. She’s convinced we can make it long distance. I get into some niche writing academy on the east coast. 

It’s winter break when we see each other again.We’re all partying by the lake, me and her and some of our friends. We’re all so damn drunk, damn, I couldn’t even count the fingers of my hands. We’re all sitting by the fire when she leans against me and says, ‘You know why I’m sure we’re gonna make it?’ And I smile because I think she’s going to say something cheesy, something about the ring I bought with the money I made from the first short story I actually sold.”

You smile so bright at that, at his success, at such a huge milestone for someone who made writing his path, his vocation — and then it clicks.

Cuisine is your calling, you’ve always known, and that’s one of the first things you tell people when you introduce yourself. If he’s never mentioned writing then it means it never came true. Horror creeps in. 

“She said, ‘we’re gonna make it because I’ve fucked about twenty or so other people, but you still love me. And you’re the fucking best’.” He stops, snickers, and there’s so much self-loathing in the way he moves, the way he breathes. “I went stone cold sober in a millisecond. I asked her to repeat, to make sure I understood correctly. I laughed it off, excused myself to the bathroom, and cried my fucking eyes out. Threw up about three times or eight, then locked myself in a room. The following morning, I left before dawn, returned to my college with my mom. Returned the ring. And broke up with Aria through a text. Changed number. I detached myself from the entire world, disappeared for about a year, except for the people that truly mattered. I finished my programme in record time, mostly because Yoongi needed me back here, and well… I mostly finished school because I had to, but I never went back to writing. It’s like I’d been emptied, and to this day I’m not sure words will ever truly fill me again. I’m not sure they will ever spill from me again, or that I’ll find a way to make them flow like I used to.”

This is so wrong. You end up saying the words out loud. 

“I haven’t dated anyone since then. And I haven’t had sex with someone since the summer before I turned twenty.” 

“That’s seven years, isn’t it?” You ask, making sure you remember his age correctly. 

“It is.”

You whistle, impressed. “That’s… She really mess you up.” 

“I just changed lifestyle. No sex, no smoking, no heavy drinking. Just me, my plants, nature, my job. I love it. It fulfills me.” 

“And no writing? You don’t miss it?” 

He shrugs, and it looks like he’s trying very hard to act like he doesn’t care. But he so blatantly does care. “You can’t miss something you’ve never had.” 

“I think you had it, though. And I think it will come back for you.”

He sighs. “I won’t hold my breath.”

You shake your head. 

“She’s engaged to one of my high school classmates now.” His laugh is bitter. “He proposed last Christmas. Getting married this summer.”

You hesitate around his fingers. Is he still hung up on her?

His eyes meet yours. “And I get mad because I think a part of me still thinks it was supposed to be me. And I hate that part of me. I also hate the part of me that is still hurt over what she did. The part of me that remembers all that sex, and wonders whether it was ever real.” He bites his lip, and he looks mad, truly. “All of this means, I’ve been hurt before, ____, and that messes with my head sometimes. The day I met you, I was attracted to you almost instantly, and that made me trust myself less around you, and it made me doubt you too. I was terrified at how much I wanted you, and the way my body reacted to yours. The way I dreamt of you. And knowing you wanted me too— It terrified me and electrified me at the same time. You’ve been the first woman I’ve wanted, really wanted, in years. And I’m sorry if I’ve seemed hot and cold, but I don’t know what to do with myself. You’ve been nothing but transparent with me, and I know this thing with me and you can hardly go anywhere—”

You go impossibly still next to him and he notices, also in the way your fingers get rigid and seem to retract from his touch. 

“This is all to say, I really want to thank you for being so honest with me so far. And I’m sorry for any weird behaviour I’ve had. It’s just that her betrayal messed with me more than I’d like to admit. And I don’t like people getting too close, but I couldn’t help it with you, and I’m not too happy with the idea that this is temporary.”

You try to align your thoughts correctly, trying to make them make sense. “What do you mean?” 

Namjoon inches closer. “With what?” 

“You’re not okay with this being temporary?” You paraphrase. 

Namjoon grips both your hands, then gets even closer. “You’re here on holiday, we’ve known each other for days, and I’m scared that again it’s just sex pulling me to you. Just some infatuation. I mean, you can’t start having feelings for someone in days. Or maybe you can, maybe I do feel something for you, just the roughest draft of a feeling, but it’s okay if you don’t. I’ve always been pretty sensitive and impressionable, especially with emotions.” He stares at you, really does, like he’s trying to read your mind. “I don’t know whether there’s solid evidence that this could be something more than a holiday fling. I just think it’s precious that I found you, that I got to feel this with you. I’m grateful for it, were it to end, or were it to turn into something deeper, something more structured, more lasting.” 

“Namjoon,” you whisper. Silence hoovers heavily on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I… I exaggerated. I’m too much. Too fast.” He inched away from you, closing off, already hating himself for scaring you off. 

“No,” you murmur kindly, stretching to reach his face, pulling him back closer. “I want you. Want this. Letting go will hurt, but as you said, I’m grateful too for this. This will be bittersweet, but it can teach us something.” Does it make sense, wanting to let go of everything for three very excellent fucks? This must be the sex. It must be the very excellent sex. The orgasms, and the hormones, and the dopamine, and all the stress you’ve been collecting like star stickers from your working at the restaurant. Maybe the long overdue hours of sleep and fucking you need to catch up on. 

You can’t be thinking this while sober, go figure talking about it. “I’m considering making some changes in my life. Maybe this could be the beginning of something different.” 

“It feels unsafe that both of us are truly considering this.” Namjoon speaks like he’s pulling back, except his body is caving in, molding to yours. “If you don’t pull back, I’ll go all in.” 

“You know when we finished yesterday,” and then you add, cheeks hot with shame “in the restroom.”

He hums, his hand on your waist, pulling you closer, and you refuse to resist it. “I remember some bits of it, yes.” His leg slots deliciously between yours, and you follow his lead, purring at the pressure, delicious pressure where your core throbs. 

“It felt like you were taking care of me, for a second. At the pond in the woods too. You’re so caring, and it would be so easy to let myself lean in, get attached. It terrifies me. Because this is supposed to be just a fling, right?” 

“Except we could let it mean more. Invest more in this.” Your bodies are already doing that. Your brains too, because neither of you might be showing their cards, but you both are calculating how much adjusting would need to be done in order for this to work, doing the math of meeting halfway and spending one weekend here, one weekend there, and what’s a two hours drive when you can finally start using your paid leave days, the amount of which has turned insurmountable at this point. 

“Is it worth it? Or are we just high on hormones?” You wonder, but words are starting to come difficult on you, especially with the way his hand is tracing your spine under your shirt. 

“See, that’s what I was wondering too.” Namjoon has pinned your hands above your head, and you’re on your back now, his body strong above you, his heartbeat loud, his chest glued to yours, and his thigh firm between your core, hot and pulsing and wet. “So maybe we should sweat some of these hormones off and see if we still think about this once we’re a little more… sober.”

You nod, as if stunned and hypnotised at the same time. 

“Plum, tell me what you need,” he whispered. 

“Inside. I want you inside.” You lowered your hands to his shorts, undoing the ribbon there. “I never thought I’d be a sucker for being filled to the brim. But you, you…” you shake your head, frustration all over your face. “Clenching around you, squeezing you… I could come from that alone. I wake up from dreams of what we did in the woods. We do it here. We do it in the shower. We do it by the pool. By the lake. In the woods, again, and against the wall. I think about sex with you all the time.”

Namjoon slips two fingers in his mouth as you talk, wetting them, but also using his spit to roughly, rudimentarily get rid of some bacteria. 

He slides his fingers inside you effortlessly and you gasp, then grind on him immediately. He grins like a madman at your reaction and feels himself growing harder too. 

“Does sex with me make you feel dirty, like it did with her?” You ask him, the previous conversation making its comeback on your mind.

”Oh, Plum. Sex with you is the holiest thing I’ve ever done. Sex with her felt like a sin, but this? You said sex to you was like a naked handshake. You can’t go to hell for something like that. But for this? Plum, I’d go to hell for this, and still, I’d choose this on any fucking lifetime I get.”

You slam your lips to his, and there’s nothing kind, nothing polite, nothing romantic about it. Yet, it’s the most romantic kiss you’ve ever had. It’s frantic, and desperate and needy, and his fingers scissor inside you, stretching you as best and as quick as they can. He can’t wait to be inside you either. 

“That was poetry,” you tell him. “You just spoke in poetry. We had naked handshakes. Now we get this. We get naked poetry.” He sucks at your neck and you bloom even more open for him. “I’m going to make such good love to you that you won’t help writing fucking cheesy pop ballads about it.”

He laughed against you, the sound so beautiful you swore your heart could glow golden with joy. 

“Alright, bet.”

Navi: (comìng soon)

[jedi-luca]

Avenger Lane Chapter Seven

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention?

Parings: Quinn Fabray x G!P Reader / eventual Natasha x G!P Reader

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter (not out yet tbd)

Warnings: NOT PROOF READ / 18 and older / alluding to sex / naked times

TAG LIST - FOR NOTIFICATIONS DROP YOUR @

As soon as you're both off the bike she brings you in a hug.

“I always have the best time with you.” With one last squeeze she lets you go.

“Same.” You smile before walking away.

You open the door hearing music and water flowing from the upstairs bathroom. 

You open the door hearing music and water flowing from the upstairs bathroom. 

You begin shedding your clothes entering the steaming bathroom. Wordlessly you flush yourself behind your wife wrapping your arms around her.

She doesn’t say anything which sort of surprises you. Instead Quinn lays her arms over yours bringing them closer. You pepper neck and jaw with kisses making her sigh, laying her head back against you. 

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ The Following Morning ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“No Y/N-” You jolted up when you had only just sat down. “-don’t sit on the sofas! My mother and your parents will be here any minute now!” Quinn huffed, clearing out the wrinkles your body made.

Usually Judy will stay with Frannie and then when your parents go back home she’ll start splitting her time between the houses. Flying back when she’s ready, or rather when Quinn and Frannie start dropping hints.

“Quinnie, chill the hell out. You’re giving me anxiety and you’re making Y/N tense.” Frannie hissed, rubbing her head.

“What if she decides to stay longer again?” Quinn gulped internally, screaming. She loves her mother, but sometimes she’s a bit much. She just knows Judy and most likely your parents will sense something is going on with your marriage.

“We’ll be honest with her and say she needs to go back with Y/N’s parents.” Frannie shrugs.

“We can’t tell our mother that.” The younger blonde glared at her older sister. Just as your father’s truck drove into your driveway.

You couldn’t help yourself, you rushed outside.

“Hey old man, how was the trip?” You grinned walking up to your father who was stretching his back. You began working on your footwork before throwing a few soft punches. Your dad chuckled before bringing you in a bear hug.

“Hmm, I missed you papa bear.” You smiled breathing in his cologne your mother no doubt bought for him.

“I missed you too kiddo.” Your dad squeezed just a little harder before letting you go as your mother and Judy walked up.

“Momma.” You let go of your dad relaxing into your mothers arms. You could hear Quinn and Frannie walk out with the kids.

“Oooh I missed you sweetheart.” Your mom held you just a few seconds longer before letting you go a bit. “Y/N you feel a little thinner. Have you been eating? You haven’t been overdoing it in the gym have you?”

Quinn internally rolled her eyes at your mothers words.

“Same routine as always mom.” You chuckled looking over at Beth and Finley being tickled and hugged by your dad. 

“GG!” Finley smiles, hugging her legs.

“Oh my sweet little Angel! Hello my treasures!” Your mom lifted Finley up, holding her close and letting out a few tears as Finley squealed and giggled in her arms. Soon Judy took Finley and your mom took Beth.

“Oh sweetheart you're growing up so fast!” Your mom whined holding her close. 

You look over at Judy who has Finley in her arms. “Hey Judes, I’m glad you could make it out.” You hug her with Finley.

“Oh I just had to come see my sweet grand babies.” 

“Thanks mom.” Frannie smiled sarcastically. 

“Oh stop it.” Judy playfully smacked her eldest. “Where’s Alex?” 

“She is with her father in Arizona this summer.” Frannie reminded her mother. 

“Oh yes I forgot.” Judy nodded.

Quinn hugged your father and then your mother before inviting them inside.

“Great work on the front yard champ. Love seeing the handprints.” Your father pats you on the back. “Now show us the house.” 

You eagerly guided your parents and mother in law around the house and backyard.

Your family walked back inside while you and your dad stayed in the backyard.

“So what do we have to work on?” Your dad grinned.

You showed your father your shed which had some baby plants growing. You pointed towards the supplies for the treehouse you want to build.

“A treehouse?! Fin is going to love it. She's a little young for it, don’t you think?” 

“I figured Beth can use it until she can climb on her own.” You shrugged.

“Good idea, she’s still young.” 

You snapped your fingers in thought.

“Oh hey pop you’re never gonna guess who lives across the street from me.”

“Is it M Night Shamalan?” He gasped.

“What? No. Why is he always your guess? He’s not gonna show up anywhere dad.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No it’s Tony Stark!” You chuckled.

“Tony Stark?” He furrowed his brow. “Tony, Tony- Oh my goodness Anthony Stark lives across the street from you?!” He beamed.

“Yeah! He showed me an old photo of you guys.” You showed him the photo on your phone.

“Oh man good times.” He laughed. “Yeah he was a freshman in this picture I wanna say I was a junior.”

“He’ll be at Fin’s birthday tomorrow so you can catch up then.”

“What a small world.” Your father chuckled, handing your phone back. “Well I can’t wait to catch up with him.” 

You both lugged the supplies towards the tree in your backyard.

“Y/N Y/L/N, what in the world are you building now?!” Natasha kinked her brow. “And who is this tall drink of water?”

“Hey Nat, this is my dad.” You grinned, walking you and your dad over to the fence.

“Frank, but you can call me Frankie.” He smiled, shaking her hand. 

“Natasha but you can call me Nat, I feel like I know you already. This one always has a story to tell me.” She smirked tapping your arm.

“Oh I’m sure.” Your father laughed.

“Where’s Mrs. Y/L/N? I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Oh she’s inside with the girls.” He smiled. Before noticing the small door you made. “Aw Y/N it’s perfect!” He moved the door opening and closing it.

“Isn’t it? We figured it would be easier for the kids plus Beth and Fin like to come over and swim. So what are the two of you building now?” The Russian woman asked.

“Well we’re gonna build a treehouse for my grand babies.” He smiled.

“You’re really gonna do it?” She smirked at you.

“Hmhm, she’s the one that made me do it pop.”

“Good keeping my kid out of trouble!” You furrow your brows at your father. “You have any kids Nat?” Your dad asks.

“No.” She smiles sadly, shaking her head.

Your father nodded understanding.

“Frankie, Y/N, dinner is ready.”

“Oh hun come meet Y/N’s sweetheart of a neighbor Natasha.”

“Oh well hello, hello.” Your mother smiles walking over.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Mrs. Y/L/N. You’ve raised such an amazing human being.”

“Didn’t I?” Your mom jokes hugging you close. “I like this one Y/N she knows how to give compliments.”

You chuckled.

“Oh please Natasha, call me Sophia.”

“Only if you call me Nat.” She smiled hugging your mother.

“Ugh your hair is so beautiful Nat!” Your mom cooed softly, touching her silky red locks.

“Thank you.” She blushed.

“You know Nat is from Russia.” You are with a lopsided grin.

“Get out!” Your mother gasped. “No wonder! She’s so beautiful Y/N.” Your mom said, now caressing Natasha’s cheeks. 

“Okay honey, relax.” Your father Frankie laughed.

“You should see Fin when she’s around her. She loves Nat.”

“Really? Aww Finny’s got her first crush.”

“Fin is just like you were when you were a baby.” Your father chuckled. “When Y/N was Finley’s age-“

Natasha nodded intently listening to your fathers embarrassing story about you. “She had this babysitter named-“ Your father snapped his fingers squinting as he tried to recall her name.

“Ingrid-“ you muttered remembering the green eyed woman.

“She had hair and eyes just like yours.” Your mother nodded adding to the story.

“Anyway this one acted as if she were her girlfriend. She would never show up without flowers or a treat-“

“Dad, come on-“

“What? It was adorable! My little Casanova.” Your mom squeezed you.

“She had red hair like Ariel from The Little Mermaid- No! You know what, I don’t need to defend myself. I was a toddler!”

Your parents began cackling right along with Natasha.

“Hey stop laughing at me!” You glared jokingly at the redhead.

“I’m sorry it’s just so cute!” She laughed.

“Y/N!” This time it was your wife. “Food’s gonna get cold. Hey Natasha.” She waved begrudgingly towards the redhead. “Natty?” Fin’s head pops out behind her mother’s legs.

“Hi cutie pie!” She waves.

“Be right there hun.” You nod to Quinn before she goes back inside.

Your daughter jumps down the stairs running towards the redhead. Natasha leaned down, lifting her up in her arms.

“Hi Natty.” Your daughter said bashfully, playing with her red hair.

“You weren’t joking.” Your mom gasps as they watch Finley bashfully talk to Natasha and play with her hair and ears.

“Nope.” You chuckled as your daughter and the Russian beauty conversed.

Meanwhile inside the house your mother in law watched the scene from inside the house. “I don’t like her.” Judy shook her head.

“You haven’t even met her.” Frannie huffed.

“I don’t need to meet her, it's obvious she wants Y/N.”

Frannie nervously looked over at her sister who was fuming by the stove.

“Mom enough!” Frannie hissed..

“Frannie women with slut red hair always want your husband. Just ask Dolly Parton.” She huffed, waving her hand that held a martini.

“Mom Y/N and Natasha are just friends. She’s married and Y/N wouldn't cheat.” Frannie said more for Quinn than her mother.

“That’s how it always starts. Quinn, keep your eyes open. Russell cheated, Bob cheated on Frannie.”

“What are you trying to say mom? That she’s next?” Frannie exclaimed.

“Yes I am. Y/N has always been a great partner for you Quinn, but that woman next door is looking at her like she brought world peace. All I’m saying is watch them or you’ll be catching them in your bed.”

“Mother!” Frannie gasped.

“That’s enough mom.” Quinn grit. “Y/N is not a cheater. Y/N is not Russell or Bob.”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ Right Outside ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Well we better go inside. It was nice meeting you Nat.” Your parents say in unison.

“Jinx!” Your parents smirked at one another.

“There’s a coke inside dad.” You grinned.

Natasha smiled fondly at them before looking over at you recalling the first time you ate dinner in her home. “It was great meeting you both.

Your mother smiles warmly bringing her in a hug before taking Finley from her arms.

“Noooo GG! Natty!” Your daughter whined reaching for the Russian beauty.

“It’s okay, Finny, we'll see each other again very soon. Okay?” Natasha cooed, tapping Finley’s chin dimple.

Your toddler giggled and nodded.

“I’ll take that coke on some ice.” Your mother winks before walking towards the door, your father chasing after her to open it for her.

“I’ll catch up with you later.” You smile walking backwards.

“Later.” Natasha smiled watching you walk back inside to your family.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Quinn, that was delicious.” Your father smiles.

“It was! Thank you, sweetheart.” You say pecking her cheek softly letting your hand squeeze her knee.

“A bit garlicy.” Judy says, causing your wife to tense up.

“I put the garlic in because it needed it.” Frannie shrugged she didn’t, but anything against her mother is game.

“Well regardless it was very tasty, Quinn.” Sophia smiled warmly. 

“Thank you Sophia.” Quinn smiles warmly not acknowledging her mothers dig.

“I'll go grab dessert.” You clear your throat.

“So… Quinn how’s work been?” Your father fills in the silence.

“It’s been great! Started working from home more! I go to the office maybe two or three times a week if that.”

“That’s great.” Frank smiled warmly. 

“The neighborhood is so nice!” You mom gushes.

“The neighborhood has been very welcoming.” Quinn nods.

“Beth, I hear you’ve made lots of friends out here.” Your mom smiled warmly.

She smiles swallowing before saying “Monica, Morgan, Billy, Tommy, Lyla, and Cassie!”

“That’s a whole lotta friends kiddo!” Your dad grinned.

“Are you excited to go to school with them?” Judy asks.

Beth’s eyes widen comically as you walk back in with desert.

“Beth, your grandma asked you a question.” Quinn spoke as she pushed her daughter’s blonde hair out of her face.

“Oh yes grandma!” Beth smiled. 

“Maybe we can go school supply shopping while I’m here.” Judy smiled.

“Oh Judy you really don’t have to do that-“ you begin.

“No no, I would love to help besides school is what? A few weeks away?”

“What about Alex?” Frannie kinked her brow.

“You can tag along and choose for her.” Judy nodded.

Dammit Frannie internally cursed now she has to shop with her mom. 

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Well that went well.” You sighed changing into your pajamas.

Quinn gave you a look.

“Except Judes I know.” You nodded, sighing walking over to your wife who was currently using a facial massager.

“I love her but she’s tiring.”

You nod, bringing her in your arms. You walk her over to the mattress, getting her to lay on her stomach. You straddle her thighs and begin massaging the stress away.

“Can I ask you something and you promise you won’t get upset?” She said with a muffled voice.

“What’s up buttercup?” You ask, chuckling.

“Can you not really show attention to Natasha while my mom is around?” 

“Wait what?” You asked, causing her to turn over.

“Please? I know we talked about it but…”

“What’d she say?”

“Just please for my own sake?”

“Okay.” You nod sadly before she brings you in a kiss.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Mom, pop, it’s time to get up!” Beth whispered. 

You and Quinn wake up with a gasp.

“Come on, come on!” She beamed holding balloons and a small wild berry muffin with a candle in it.

You and Quinn nod, getting out of bed. You stayed up all night to create Finley’s jungle themed birthday. Beth begged you both to let her do something for Fin as well. It wasn’t until Frannie suggested she start a tradition the way she had with Quinn. 

“Ready?” Beth whispered to you both at Finley’s door. You both nod with a sleepy smile.

Beth began singing happy birthday, awakening her little sister. Finley gasped with a smile. 

“Happy birthday Fin!” You all say lifting her up on your lap as you sit on the small twin sized bed.

“My boythday?” Fin yawned, leaning back in your arms.

“It sure is, love.” Quinn smiled.

“You’re 3 years old now kiddo.” You squeezed.

Quinn took her tiny hand using her fingers to show her how many she was.

“Dis many?” Fin blinked, she was so damn precious when she wakes up. 

“Hmhm, 3.” You nod.

“You have to make a wish and blow out your candle.” Beth smiled sweetly.

Finley smiled at all of you before turning towards her muffin. She closed her eyes before blowing out her candles.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“So how did things with Tina go?” You asked Mike who was helping you with the finishing touches.

“We slept together.” Mike blushed before looking over at Tina who worked on the other side with Kurt, Blaine, Mercedes, and Sam.

“Wooow.” You grinned mouth agape in surprise. 

Mike nudged you laughing.

“So you two are gonna try things again?” You asked.

“I’m not sure we haven’t talked about it yet.”

“Oof.” 

“What about you and your little love triangle?” He smirked only for it to quickly fade. “How the fuck do you always end up in a love triangle by the way?” He pointed with a huff.

“What?!” You huffed furrowing your brows.

“Uhh hello Gabrielle Avery in high school, pretty sure there was a girl in college, and then Sersi! Oh my God I can’t believe you didn’t choose her!”

“Mike!” You glared with a huff.

“Sersi, is British - Asian…BrAsian?“

You kinked your brow.

“She loved your babies, she wanted to have your babies, crazy smart, and drop dead gorgeous. Oh and she didn’t treat you like crap.”

“Mike.” You raised your brow.

He raised his hands and then changed the subject.

“What did you and Natasha do last night?”

“Well we checked out this extreme painting with a twist place. She kissed me and then we went to a bar and this girl was on me and she kissed me again-“

“Whoa! Wait! Wait… she kissed you more than once after the photo shoot kiss?” Mike covered his mouth in shock.

“Well it wasn’t like that!”

“Hmhm.” He shook his head at you.

“It wasn’t! The second kiss was for a photo and the third was to get this handy chick off of me.”

“A likely story.” Mike smirked laughing as you nudged him. “So you did you like it?” 

“Dude.”

“Come on! I’m your best friend, just tell the truth.” He raised his brow with a cheeky grin.

“Well I mean yeah who wouldn’t enjoy kissing a woman like her.”

“Has it been weird between you two?”

You furrow your brows in thought before turning to look over at the Russian Beauty. 

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ Meanwhile in the next yard ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, you’re telling me you made out with Y/N right in front of her wife? Then kissed her two more times?” Wanda raised her brows as she helped Natasha decorate her backyard for Finley’s party.

“You made out with Y/N?!” Laura gasped.

“I did not make out with Y/N!” Natasha chastised. “It was an innocent kiss for a photo shoot.”

Her two closest friends raised their brows.

“Uh oh, the look of shame. What happened?” Clint chuckled, bringing the slide from his home to Natasha’s pool for the party.

“Nat and Y/N made out!” Wanda let out.

“Oh shit.” He chuckled, raising his brows.

“It’s not what you think.” Laura raised her brow. “It was for a photo shoot.” She calmly explained.

“Bullshit.” He laughed. “Tasha you loved it just admit you got a thing for your neighbor. I saw the way you looked at Y/N at Tony’s party.”

“Clint shut it.” Laura rolled her eyes.

“Oh come on, it's just us, admit it you’ve got a crush.” Clint pointed.

“Fine!” Natasha huffed. “The kiss was…”

“Intoxicating?” Wanda asked.

“Magical?” Laura added.

“Addictive?” Clint shrugged.

“All of the above.” She sighed looking over at you not realizing that you were already looking at her.

You waved with a small smile and she waved back.

“Oh yeah you’re into Y/N.” Clint nodded.

“Nat, I love you, but please be careful. Y/N is married… with children.” Wanda cringed at the thought of a woman trying to come between her and Vis.

“I know.” The Russian sighed, turning back towards her task at hand. Natasha knew she shouldn’t have kissed you. She knew she would want more. She knew she would love it. She knew you’d be a great kisser, but by God if she didn’t think about the way you held her hips. The way your body tightened when she ran her hands up your abs to your chest and shoulders. The way your tongue darted against her lips before moving your lips against hers. She had to admit she wants more. She needs more.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ Back To You ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ 

“I mean we seem fine.” You say turning back towards Mike.

“Did Quinn make you sleep downstairs?”

“No thankfully all of this is going on.”

“So that’s how you stayed out of the dog house. Your parents and your kids saved your ass!” He cackled.

“Shut up.” You muttered. “We also talked.”

“Bullshit.”

“We did!” You whined.

“Let me guess you both had sex and you forgave her?”

“We talked!” You gruffed.

“Yeah more ‘Ohhh Yeaah’ he moaned.”

“I can’t with you anymore.” You say, shaking your head as you walked away.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“So you guys fix things?” Santana asked her blonde friend.

“Yeah we talked.”

“Good cause it’s not fair to be upset with them.” Santana said as they stood in line.

“I know but what if Y/N enjoyed it? What if they-“

“Stop. You have to trust Y/N. You’re going to drive yourself mad.”

“I just know that look Natasha gave Y/N. That’s the ‘I wanna run away with you and have your babies’ look.”

“So what? Let her look. It’s you that Y/N is married too. It’s you she sleeps with at night.”

“Did you tell Y/N Berry kissed you?”

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Come through here you all can set up in the back.” 

Natasha looks up hearing you speaking to the petting zoo people. She smiles as you jolt back from a python hanging from the zookeeper’s shoulders.

“Jeez!!” You yelped as the snake’s head came towards you.

“Aww don’t worry he’s a sweetheart.” The snake wrangler chuckled.

“He can’t get loose and eat my daughters right?” You gulped.

“What’s wrong Y/L/N?” Laura teased smirking from Nat’s backyard.

“You scared of a little snake?” Natasha smirked looking over from her backyard fixing a giant inflatable gorilla.

“Little?l” you huffed, turning your head seeing Steve wave as he walked through the entrance of the backyard. “Thanks again Steve, you're a lifesaver.” You grinned as the ex-military man brought over his brand new grill.

“Of course Y/N any time!” He paused looking around at all of your friends putting up decorations. It was now 1100 and he knew the party was supposed to go on at 1300. 

“Oh my God that man.” Mercedes and Kurt fanned themselves looking at Steve Rogers from where they were working.

“Wow. Just look at his butt.” Kurt sighed, earning a glare from Blaine. 

“I’m sorry hunny but he’s got back.”

“Okay. Chill.” Sam scoffed at his girlfriend.

“Is anyone getting a little bit of a gay vibe from him?” Artie furrowed his brow tilting his head squinting. “No? Just me?”

“His gaydar is better than mine.” Blaine shrugged with a smirk.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ Meanwhile ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

“Uhh… you want some help?” Steve asked with a sweet smile.

“I mean I wouldn’t turn it down.” You chuckled. “As you can see I'm a little over my head.”

“I never leave a soldier behind.” He quirked his brow, placing on an apron. “I’ve got the food pal. You go do what you need to do.”

You nodded as he began setting up shop. You looked around and everything was nearly finished. The theme of the party is Young Wild & Three; jungle theme using The Wild Thornberrys and Tarzan as inspiration. 

The booths were up, the makeshift obstacle course Natasha dubbed Swingin’ From The Threes. You and your father created it completed with a ball pit, zip line, and a treehouse. All you had left to do was change and get Finley’s outfit ready. 

“I think we’re done.” Quinn said, walking up to you.

“I’ll call my parents.” Your parents had taken the girls and Arlo out so you could surprise Finley.

⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗ ⧗

Once the birthday girl arrived you got her in her outfit and covered her eyes before going outside.

“Papa can’t see. Papa!” Finley huffed before pulling at your hands. You dropped them just as all of your family and friends jumped out saying happy birthday.

You beamed down at your daughter's face seeing her surprised and joyful expression.

She clapped her hands beaming at everyone. “It’s my boythday! I’m this many!” She shouted holding up 3 tiny fingers.

Everyone laughed and cheered.

“Whoa!” She gasped pointing to her brand new treehouse and presents. “Mine? Those ones too?” 

“Yes sweet girl.” Quinn cooed.

“Happy birthday Fin.” You both say.

“Papa down please.” She wiggles in your arms wanting to get down. Soon the party is in full swing. The kids are running around going through the obstacles and booths you all set up.

Finley was running around with Nate and Arlo on either side of her.

“Natty look!” Finley gasps, tugging her hand pointing at her treehouse.

“It’s awesome Finny!”

“It’s my boythday.” She smiled.

“Yes it is moi sladosti.” 

“Auntie Nat!” Nate smiled, hugging her legs.

“Well hello moy krasivyy.” She smiled crouching down to kiss his head.

“Fin come on, let's see the animals!” Beth grinned pointing towards the petting zoo.

Fin gasped running towards Beth and the animals with Nate and Arlo close behind.

“Thanks for helping me with all this.” You say walking up to Natasha making sure your mother in law was nowhere in sight.

“Of course. Look at how happy she is! How happy all of them are.” She smiled looking from your girls to the rest of the kids on the block.

“Nat?” She turns back towards you. “We’re good, right?”

“Of course we are, why wouldn't we be?” She smiled, pinching your arm.

“Cool.” You smiled trying to move your arm away from her.

“How’s Quinn?” She asked.

“She’s better now.” You blush looking over at your wife bashfully who was speaking with the hobbit- Rachel.

“Well she doesn’t look like she wants to rip my head off anymore.” Natasha smirked.

“Yeah I’m sorry about that.” You cringed.

“You’ve really got to stop apologizing for your wife.” Natasha said softly.

“I know.” You sighed.

“It’s okay you can make it up to me with a kiss.” She smirked watching you blush. “I’m kidding Y/N.” 

“I know that.” You chuckled.

“So Beth’s birthday is in June, Fin’s is August, and yours is?” The redhead raised her brow.

“Late September.” You grinned.

“You’re gonna be?”

“28.” You nodded, taking a sip from your drink. “When’s yours?”

“December 3rd.” She smiles before taking a swig of her drink. You can’t help but notice the way her lips look against the bottle. Causing you to remember the way the kiss felt.

“Winter baby.” You smiled, shaking your weird intruding thoughts. “Scratch that; a Russian Winter baby. Did your parents wrestle a bear to have you?” You cringed immediately. “Nope; you’re adopted and your parents are gone. Ahh. I’m sorry Nat.”

“Y/N.” She chuckled, laying her hand on your shoulder. “Relax. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I thought it was funny. Don’t let the kiss mess what we have up.” 

“Kisses.” You elaborated with a blush.

“Right kisses.” She nods looking away from your lips. “I see your dad and Tony are going down memory lane.” 

You turn to see your dad laughing along with Tony both holding each other for support.

“Looks like it.” You chuckled.

“Did you talk to Quinn about his job offer?”

“Not yet.” You sighed.

“Y/N.” Natasha looked frustrated with you.

“I will.”

“Please do.”

“Y/N.” You turn, hearing your mother in law.

“Yes Judes?” You smile.

“Your wife needs help with the food.”

“Oh?” You furrowed your brows before heading off.

Judy smiled at the redhead who watched you run inside. “Why hello dear, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Judy, Quinn’s mother.”

“Nice to meet you Judy, I'm Natasha, their neighbor.” She smiled pointing to the house with the pool before reaching out to shake her hand.

“Oh, do you live alone?” Judy asked, clearing clocking her wedding ring.

“Oh no my husband Bruce-”

“Oh so you’re married?”

“It’ll be 3 years in less than 6 months.” The redhead responded understanding where Judy is going with this.

“Oh well that's lovely dear. So since you have a husband you’ll leave my daughter’s alone?”

Natasha looked taken back. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me correctly, dear.”

“I-” Natasha felt like a fish out of water. She didn’t think Judy would just say it so bluntly.

“I’ve seen women like you. Stay away from my family.”

“Hey Nat! Judes!” Brittany smiled walking up with her wife Santana.

“Oh hello Brittany Santana!” Judy hugged both girls. “I’m going to go get me a plate.”

“We figured you needed saving.” Santana smirked.

“You were right to assume. I’m pretty sure she just called me whore without calling me a whore, and told me to leave Y/N alone.” Natasha laughed in disbelief.

“Yup that’s Judy Fabray fo ya.” Santana sighed.

Natasha couldn’t help but wonder how Quinn’s childhood was. No wonder she is the way that she is.

“Don’t take anything she says to heart.” Brittany shook her head, waving her off. “Her ex husband- Quinn’s father cheated on her for years until he finally left her. That was when she started talking to Quinn again.”

“Ahh I see.” Natasha nodded.

Santana began laughing hysterically seeing Kurt and Blaine covered in ketchup and mustard.

“Poncho!” Kurt cried pointing to the mess all over his rain poncho.

Next Chapter

[captainlondonman]

REVENGE

Jerry had left the office later than usual but he had to finish a presentation for Monday. It wasn’t that late but looking at his watch he realized he needed to get a move on to catch the bus. The only way was to go through a lane at the back of the pub and if he was lucky he would just make it. As he walked up the dark unlit lane 3 skinheads came out.

 ‘I needing a fucking piss mate after all that beer,’ the lead one shouted.

 Jerry had to pass them and he slowed down and kept to the other side.

 ‘What do have here, a pretty office boy. Eh mate, you a fucking pansy? Eh I’m talking to you. You gonna fucking answer?

 Meekly Jerry answered. ‘I’m just going to get my bus’

‘Just gonna get yer bus. Not now mate.’

 With that the lead skin walked over and swung a full punch into Jerry’s stomach.

 ‘Take that you little fucker.’ As Jerry doubled up so another came over and whacked him in the face throwing him backwards, his hand coming up to his nose which he felt was  broken. He reeled back and fell on to the road

 ‘Oi Oi, fucking great let’s put the boot in boys’

 The lead one struck hard in his boots making sure the first  kick was between Jerry’s legs. His balls almost exploded with pain the other two decided it was their turn and waded in kicking Jerry on both sides of his body. As Jerry lay sprawled out the lead skin put his boot on Jerry’s face.

 ‘Now lick me boots you little poof. Go on get yer tongue out and lick.’

 Jerry knew there was no alternative and started licking as the Lead stuck his boot down into his throat.

‘That’s better Boi. Do what a skin tells ya, OK. Yer a fucking waste of time.’

With that he unzipped his bleachers and took out his cock.

 ‘Right guys, we all came out for a piss, so time to spray our mate here. The Lead unleashed a great stream of piss directing at Jerry’s mouth. The other two shouted ‘Oi Oi lets cover him with our piss, soak the bastard.’

All 3 stood over Jerry letting out their stream and once finished stuffed their cocks back into their bleachers

‘Missed yer bus now mate’

‘You can fucking scrape yerself up and get outta here. Go on get the fuck out.’

The three turned round and went back into the pub laughing.

‘That feels better giving a bloke like him a going over.’

 Jerry in so much pain started to get up wiping the blood form his nose, just as another Skin came out.

‘Oh Christ not all over again’. Jerry thought

The skin came over and loomed above Jerry. He was broad shouldered, in boots and bleachers, so tight Jerry could make out every muscle up his legs and a MA1 green bomber jacket.

‘Give me your hand and I’ll help you up.’

He put out his thick hand and pulled Jerry up.

‘What’s yer name?’

‘Jerry’

‘Mine’s Tone’

‘Thank you.’

‘Looks like those fucking idiots did you well and good. They a bunch of morons and will do anything for a bit of aggro. We’re not all like that mate. You need cleaning up so why don’t’syou come back to mine, I’m just around the corner so no need to scare everyone on a bus.. Plus you’re rank with all that piss.’

Jerry felt so dazed and here was a skinhead who seemed normal wanting to help so he nodded and followed Tone who did live in the next street.

When they got in to his flat Tone said ‘Take yer clothes off and I’ll get them washed and I’llput out some of mine, then come in to the sitting room as I have a proposition for you.’

Jerry stayed in the shower till his body felt clean and the pain had eased a bit but his nose looked swollen and still badly bruised. Lying on the bed were only two items of clothing. A pair of bleachers and a worn Fred Perry shirt. Both Tone’s obviously as they were too big for Jerry. He looked at the bleachers and could see they needed a wash, there were yellow piss marks around the flies but there was nothing else to wear so he slipped  them on. As he pulled them up to his surprised as his cock rubbed against the denim he felt it thicken and start swelling. I’m bloody straight but why I am getting a hard on? He tried to press his cock down but the more he tried the more he got erect and as the bleachers were at least 2 sizes too big, his cock stuck out like a tent pole. He quickly put the Fred Perry on and let it hang down over his cock to hide his size.

 He walked in and saw Tone sitting with a can of beer which he handed to Jerry.

‘Take that mate I’m sure you need it’.

‘You said you had a proposition’Jerry said sitting down quick to hide his knob.

‘I know that fucking skin only too well, the one who did you over. A right bully. He needs taken down a peg or two and you can do it’.

 ‘You’ve got to be joking, he’s far too strong for me and besides as soon as he sees me he will mow me down.’

‘Not necessarily if you go through my programme. You can take him no prob. Trust me. Are you up for it? Surely you want to make him suffer as you did’.

‘Of course but are you sure it will work.’

‘You need to take the week of work and by next Friday you will be ready. So go home when your clothes are dry, tell your office and be back here first thing on Monday morning

 Jerry went home not knowing what to think but did as he was told and left a message at his office and returned on Monday first thing.

‘I knew you’d be back, mate. Good lets get started

You will be staying here until ready and you don’t need any clothes. I’ll put you in a room with no window. The door will not be locked. There’s a bed and chair and table and a screen which you have to look at all day. You can’t turn it off or change the sound OK?’

‘Sure that’s OK’

‘Good lets get started.’

Tone opened the door and Jerry saw the small space with a single bed, table and chair and a large screen against the wall.

‘Sit down and watch ALL day. If you need to piss use the pot in the corner’

 As Jerry sat down the screened flared up. And all he could see were skinhead groups together, close ups with shaven heads, guys shaving each others heads, all shouting ‘Fuck Fuck Oi Oi kill the fucking bastards.’ Jerrys ears became full of their sounds and swearing, non stop, he wanted to put his hands over his ears but the sound became hypnotic and he could feel himself starting to swear and soon he was shouting ‘Fuck ya bastards, Oi Oi’ back at the screen at all those skins, lots of close ups of shaved heads.

After a few hours, the door opened and Tone came in saying nothing and put a shaver on the table and went out

Jerry started hearing

‘Who wants fucking hair, we are skin skinheads mean fucking lot. No hair get rid of hair.

The sounds ran through Jerry’s body.

‘I don’t want my fucking hair’, he shouted, ‘I want to fucking shave it off.’

He took the shaver and let it whir

Little by little he started running it over his head watching his locks fall onto the floor until he could feel his head smooth. He let the shaver off and ran his hand over the bald head

‘That’s fucking better’ he shouted at the screen. The screen went dead and he fell back exhausted

He slept all night and when he woke up he saw at the end of the bed clothing.

On the floor were a pair of black DMs with red laces all polished. On the bed red socks, bleachers, a pair of white braces attached, a Fred Perry back T shirt with white stripes and a black bomber jacket.

The screen came on again this time showing lots of ski heads at pubs together drinking beers is their full skinhead gear then switching to guys getting into their gear, putting on their boots and carefully lacing up. The sound carried on with shouting and swearing at times louder and then subsiding and rising again. Jerry was getting turned on by the swearing and now wanted to get rid of his prissy  way of talking and just swear. All he could see were guys in skin gear. This seemed to him the only way to dress. What else do guys want to wear? This is it and I want to wear it too,

He looked at the clothes at the end of the bed whilst still watching all the guys on screen.

He took off his own clothes.

‘Who the fuck want this stuff,’ he said

He picked up the Fred Perry and put it over his head. It was a good tight fit with his nipples showing through. There was no underwear only the bleachers. They were not Tone’s as they were tight against his legs as he pulled them up and he had to squeeze his cock down one size to make sure it fitted in and felt comfortable.  It was odd but the jeans had two zips one for the front and one for his arse. Suppose I can have a good crap without taking anything off. Fucking great idea.

It felt more than that and he could feel the heat start making his dick throb. He leant over and put on the socks and then started on the boots. He had been watching picture after picture of lads putting them on and lacing them up so he knew exactly what to do and tighten them against his bleachers. Finally he stood up and put on the bomber jacket.

Turning round he looked at himself in the mirror. Christ who was this guy. No way did he look a ‘pansy’. This was someone else. He looked tough, a real man,

Shaved head in full skin gear and a throbbing cock stuffed down his leg. He liked it.In fact he fucking loved it

‘I’m a fucking skin boi’ he shouted.

On the table was an open can of beer which he picked up and took a swig as he let his hand rub over his bulge.

‘Fucking great, beer, and a stiff dick’ he said

Suddenly he felt tired and lay down on the bed , in minutes he fell asleep.

 Next morning he woke again and struggled to get his cock out to have a piss in the bowl which had been cleaned out during the night. The screen started up again.

More skins lads were shown. Arsing around, wrestling giving each other small sharp blows in fun, always swearing. The scenes started changing as some were forced to kneel and lick the stronger one’s boots whilst others put their feet on the guys head to keep it down. Shouting

F’ucking lick, clean these boots with yer tongue. Yeah Boi.’

He saw many guys being forced to lick boots. He noticed that several of the guys were clearly getting off watching it all and had started rubbing their cocks through their bleachers. Long slow rubs showing various lengths of stiff pricks.

The main guy had  big cock hard as a bat down his bleachers.

He unzipped and pulled it out. It was not only thick but long and a large hard head with precum showing clearly.

The guy shouted

‘Now boi get yer mouth round my dick and right down the back of yer throat’

‘Get it down, get it down’ the others shouted. They forced the young one’s head up to face the cock.

‘Open yer fucking mouth and take it all’ watching their leader

The young guy had no option, one of the others yanked his head back and spat in his face. The young one opened his mouth to wipe but the large cock was then forced into his mouth. The young guy started gagging but there was no sympathy. The leader wanted to be sucked off and his cock was being stuffed right down the throat

‘Well done Boi, you know how to suck so get to it’, the leader said taking hold of the young guys head and shoving it in and out. The others standing around unzipped and pulled out their erect cocks

‘Shit man watching him suck sure getting me horny’

‘Me too mate.’

All the guys were wanking watching their leader getting his blowjob.

Jerry could not believe what he was seeing. He was straight and had a girlfiend but seeing all this masculinity, tough guys getting worked up and wanking with their cocks, especially seeing the blowjob in action, had him hard. He was jealous, he wanted his cock in the guy’s mouth. Jerry sat back in the bed and unzipped his bleachers and took out his erect dick. ‘hrist I really want to cum just when all the others do.’ He started rubbing his cock as the door opened.

Tone was standing there filling the doorway, in his boots bleachers and T shirt. His fly was open and his thick long cock was out, massive and hard

‘Getting off on all I see,’ he said ‘perhaps you’d like to try the real thing skin Boi

Jerry stared at  the cock and rubbed himself.

‘You know what to do seeing all that eh?’

Jerry got off the bed and came forward to kneel in front of Tone

‘Not sure I can take all of that’

‘Don’t worry Boi I won’t shove it in. I’ll be gentle but you’re getting it all.’

Jerry spat on the head to make it easier and opened his mouth wide. He was feeling so horny seeing the screen that he wanted to be the young guy swallowing dick and giving full head. Tone took hold of Jerry’s head and slowly started to push it further and further down his cock. At first Jerry gagged but then started to breathe properly making it easier.

‘Shit that screen has made you horny Boi’

Jerry was sucking and staring at the screen as they were all jacking off.

‘If you do it right we can all cum together, you me and all the lads on the screen,’

Jerry could see that the lads were nearly there and that made him suck all the more on Tone’s pole.

‘Shit man you fucking want my cum down that throat of yours. You can hear the lads starting to groan eh. Go on work your own dick so we all cum.’

Jerry’s cock was ready to burst and he could feel Tone’s dick throbbing ready too.

As the lads all started their orgasm groan and he could see the leaders cum dripping out of the young ones mouth so Tone exploded down Jerry’s throat and his own cock shot wad after wad across onto Tones boots.

‘Fucking hell man, that’s some mouth you have there but ther’es more of my cum for you so get down and lick my boots clean.’

Jerry wanted all  cum possible and feverishly licked every drop of his own from Tone’s boots polishing them with his tongue.

As Tone stuffed his cock into his bleachers, he flicked off any remaining cum.

‘We’re getting there boy. Tomorrow is you final day in prep so relax and be ready. Don’t worry you can watch more guys wanking and I’ll make sure you see some of them fucking each other as well. Take note of that as you’ll want to be ready. Have another wank if you want.’

And with that he left and closed the door.

 The next day Jerry woke up smelling stale cum but he liked it and even the smell started making his cock rise. Next to him on the bed was a baseball bat and hanging from the ceiling a large leather punch bag. He started to look at the screen and again many rough looking yobbo skin boys appeared on the scene. This time it was different. Jerry could see the aggro on their faces, some wore knuckle dusters, many had tats on their heads and some wore hoods. There was going to be no sex that was obvious. Groups were facing one another screaming names, fuck this, fuck that, several waving baseball bats taunting. One group ran into the other waving their bats kicking out punching, spitting. At first Jerry almost felt sick at the anger and aggro on their faces but the more he watched the more he felt himself changing. He began to feel angry, he wanted to be part of the fight, he felt his face change and when he looked at himself in the mirror he hardly recognized the quiet person. This was a tough skin wanting a fight, his eyes glared, his mouth changed and he spat at the mirror.

While watching the fight he picked up the bat on his bed and started screaming hitting the punch bag

‘Fucking cunts, I’ll fucking work you over, take that you fucking bastard.’ Time and time again he hit the bag.’Oi Oi Kill Kill’

Once the fight on the screen ended he sat back and then another scene started and again it was a fight. Again he found himself worked up and using his bat hit the punch bag with all his strength. This went on aall day until when the screen stopped he fell back on the bed exhausted.

 Tone walked in wearing full skin gear and bomber jacket.

‘Its time Jerry. Pick up that bat and come with me. Time for your revenge’

The two guys walked side by side. Being just next to Tone made him not just a man and a skin, but he could feel his cock twitching. They went down the alley where Jerry had been the previous week.

‘Right mate you stay in the shadow and wait. Your time is coming. I’ll be not far away. Here take this.’ He took out of his pocket a  balaclava.

‘Suggest you put this on. It will help your anger.’

Jerry put it on and immediately felt angry and wanting to take full revenge. He stood in the shadows for about half an hour when the Skin came out the back door.

Jerry immediately felt anger and knew now that his week of preparation was for this moment. He was now a skin and ready to attack. The Skin stood facing the wall and opened his zip to pee. As he let out his stream of piss, Jerry crossed the alley raising his baseball bat.

‘Take that you fucking creep,’ as he swung the bat into the hollow of Skins back. The guy lurched forward hitting his face against the wall and Jerry again hit in the back and then into the back of his knees causing the guy to crash while still peeing all down his bleachers. He was totally winded and unable to stand up. Jerry got hold of his neck and swung him round before delivering a full blown punch into the guys face.

‘Take that,’ and again he punched breaking the Skins nose. ‘Now you know what it feels like eh? Not so fucking brave now are you’ he screamed into the Skin’s face.

The Skin did not know what was going on, unable to answer and feeling the pain all over his body. Jerry lifted him up and turned him against the wall, pushing him flat whilst keeping his arm clenched around the Skins’s throat.

‘I ain’t finished with you yet you cunt.’

He put his other hand at Skins arse.

‘Fucking great you’ve got the rear zip. Just as well  as you’re about to have my cock rammed deep inside you.’

‘No No please mate no one has ever fucked me, I do the fucking.’

‘Not this time mate and I have a good sized dick to split that arse of yours.’

Jerry pulled down the arse zip and then his own pulling out his dick. The beating had made him hard with excitement so his cock was so stiff and ready for a fuck.

He let a good size gob of spit fall onto his dick.

‘I’m being good to ya mate letting my spit on me cock.’ Still throttling the Skin he use his other hand to direct his cock against the crack.

‘Right you bastard, take this.’ He rammed his cock up the arse ,the Skin screaming

‘Shit that’s fucking painful please no.’

‘Fuck you mate the more pain you have the better. You’re about to feel my cum straight up to yer mouth.’

Jerry pushed hard and once up to the hilt started jerking in and out, the Skin struggling for breath. Jerry moved his free hand round the front and put his hand over the Skins bulge.

‘You’ve never been fucked? Then why is that cock of yours so hard. So you love being beaten and then fucked eh. As stiff as a bloody truncheon. I’m not giving you the satisfaction of a wank’ he said has his hand firmly clamped the cock and then gave it a mighty punch causing the Skin to almost stop breathing. That’ll stop you doing any fucking for a while.

By now Jerry was so worked up he was ready. Take all my cum you fucking cunt.’ And with one shove he felt wads of cum shoot into the Skin’s arse.

When he took out his cock he shoved the Skin, racked in pain against the wall.

‘You shouldn’t have done that to me last week you bastard. Thought I was a pansy eh?’

Jerry took off his balaclava so the Skin could see him.

Recognise me

‘Shit you’re the guy I beat up last week.’

‘Not the same guy now eh? You’ve made me like you and for that I’m bloody happy but it’s the last time you cross me, got it. When you next see me pass on the other side. I’m telling all your mates that you’re a fucking pansy who likes being fucked up the arse by other skins. Bet you get a few more up you now’.

The skin wiped the blood off his face and pulled up his arse zip looking down at his piss stained bleachers.

‘Show that to your mates, and by the way you’ve a small dick so better your’e fucked than do any fucking.’

As the Skin staggered back inside Tone came out of the shadows.

‘Well Boi you didn’t need my help. I said my programme would work but I didn’t think it would be as good. But watching you fuck the guy has made me fucking horny.’

He came up to Jerry and unzipped the back of his bleachers putting his hand inside and stroking Jerry’s arse.

Jerry said ‘Revenge is sweet but let’s get back to yours as my arse is ready for a mighty fuck from you. Thanks for making me a skin. I fucking love it and now this is my life.’

‘You ain’t leaving me Boi’

‘Don’t worry I with you full time now.’

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 7/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he’s on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There’s only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he’d finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon] A/N: Greetings from band camp! But that won't stop me from updating my @cssns story! Hope everyone is having a great week! (As always, thanks to the best beta, @optomisticgirl​​​​ !) rated M | 5.1k words | AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Dorian hadn’t been seen since his encounter with Regina the previous morning, but Killian knew better than to let his guard down. Every time the bell rang in the library, Killian was alert, ready for the worst (even if logically he knew his twin wouldn’t announce his presence—though, they did share an affinity for melodrama…). And he’d put on his sword belt for the first time in ages, for both comfort and protection. 

He was reshelving a few books when the bell chimed again. He paused to listen, but was mildly surprised when Leroy’s voice rang out in the otherwise quiet library—and sounded more than grumpy. “What the hell, pirate?” 

Confused, Killian shoved the book in his hand on the shelf and quickly made his way to the lobby. “Watch the volume, mate,” he chastised. “What’s the problem?”

Leroy was glaring at him and huffing. “Don’t pretend you don’t know; I saw you! Taking a joyride on my boat this morning, using all my gas, and then you just left it adrift. It almost ran into the shipping lane!”

“Why would I take your dinghy when my ship is right there?” Killian countered. “It was probably my good-for-nothing brother.”

“Then why was he dressed like you? And I saw your hook!” 

He rolled his eyes; of course Dorian would find a new way to make trouble for him. “Well it wasn’t me! I’ve been here all day, and my wife can provide my alibi prior to that—in detail, if you’d like,” Killian threw back, biting back a smirk at the memory of what they’d gotten up to in bed that morning. 

“No thank you,” he responded, stepping back with his hands up. “Just—keep that asshole in check, okay?”

“He’s not my responsibility.”

“Whatever,” Leroy grumbled, and left as quickly as he’d arrived.

Killian was irked by the encounter. Not so much at Dorian’s antics, annoying though they were (and would probably need his attention at some point)—but he was somewhat perturbed by the fact that Leroy was so quick to assume it had been him. There was definitely a time he may have done that, but now? After everything in the past few years? Did the dwarf truly still think so little of him?

He shook his head; Leroy didn’t have much faith in anyone. It was just a stupid misunderstanding; perhaps he’d go down to the docks and see if he could use his powers, meager as they were, to tow the boat back into harbor. But it was nothing to be truly upset over, not on his end.

The day went on without further event and the encounter was nearly out of his mind when he ran into another dwarf outside the sheriff station. Sneezy was coming from the opposite direction and reached the door before he did, but then paused and faced him. 

“Uh, Captain,” he started, then characteristically sneezed. He went on after wiping his nose on his ever-present handkerchief. “I was about to report what happened earlier, but I’d be happy to settle now, if you want—if you’d rather Emma not know.”

“Know what?”

“About the rum you stole,” he said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t exactly hide it.”

Killian scoffed; he’d never been impressed by the rum selection at the pharmacy, nor was he desperate enough to shoplift subpar liquor. “I’ve been at the library all day, mate; you should hit up my lookalike for the cash. Or go ahead and report it; may as well add to his rap sheet.”

The dwarf tilted his head, confused. “But—your hook—and clothes—”

“—Are easy to replicate with magic like his,” Killian sighed. “Really, mate? I thought you knew me better.”

Sneezy at least looked a bit like his brother Bashful at that, then uttered a quick apology before nearly running back in the direction from which he’d come.

Killian pinched the bridge of his nose, again frustrated.

It didn’t stop there, though—on the entire walk from the station to Granny’s with Emma, he was on the receiving end of glares, muttering, and people keeping their distance. Granted, that was typical treatment from the gaggle of fairies they passed, given their history. 

But even mild-mannered Gepetto, upon his exit from the diner, turned suddenly angry at the sight of Killian and wasted no time getting in his face and yelling in his native tongue. Killian was skilled at languages but not well-studied in that one, save for a few curse words—all of which he heard in the tirade. 

The carpenter didn’t give Killian a chance to reply before storming off, leaving him fatigued and Emma confused. “What the hell was his problem?” she griped. 

“No clue—but I’m willing to bet it was my brother; that’s been happening all afternoon.”

“Ugh, that dick,” she cursed. “But can’t people tell the difference by now?”

“You’d think,” he sighed, knowing that didn’t mean a damn thing if a glamour spell was involved. 

“Sounds like he needs to be punched in his pretty nose to make sure it’s more obvious,” she suggested, stepping into Killian’s space and tapping his own nose.

“You think my nose is pretty?” he flirted back. 

“All of you is. Way more than him,” she assured him, then dragged him into the restaurant. 

He obviously knew he was innocent of the various misdemeanors he’d been accused of, and he was certainly no stranger to being a suspect. But that hurt feeling from earlier crept back up in him as he fielded side-eyed stares from his seat across from an oblivious Emma while they ate. 

Hadn’t he earned this town’s trust? Weren’t they well past any questioning of his actions? Yes, his history was rocky—but he’d literally died for the residents of Storybrooke. 

And it was no secret he had a doppelgänger running around. So the fact they were so quick to turn on him was far more painful than he’d like to admit.

“Babe? Your glass—are you okay?” Emma’s concerned voice pulled him from his morose thoughts, and he realized a whirlpool was threatening to spin out of his glass of water. 

“Sorry,” he answered quickly, and focused on calming the tiny maelstrom. “Just—thinking about everything,” he said, simplifying the truth. 

“I know.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “Good thing you’ve got another magic lesson in the morning, huh?”

He groaned in response; she giggled. 

“Come on; let’s get you home. You’ll need your rest,” she said suggestively as she got to her feet, taking him with her, hinting that they would spend time not resting as well. 

The lascivious smirk Granny gave him as Emma paid their tab was less out of place than his other interactions today, but was at least positive. So he did still have some friends, it seemed. 

And as he and Emma finally collapsed in each other’s arms later, sweaty and sated, as long as she was still on his side, who else did he require?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Though Dorian was no stranger to using a glamour spell, and had certainly used far more dramatic disguises in his life, this one was perhaps the most initially uncomfortable—mainly in how little changed. 

As it was, he and Killian were nearly mirror images to start with—what with their scars on opposing cheeks and the fact that they parted their hair on different sides. So to see such minor differences in his reflection was a somewhat out-of-body experience—this was close to what people actually saw when they looked at him. 

He allowed his minor existential crisis to persist for a minute before finishing the transformation; at least his brother had decent style, if a bit different than his own. (How could he stand these tight jeans?) The false hook over his left hand was awkward, but necessary. 

Anyways. It was time to see if he could pull this off; after all, he was far too wise not to do foolish things now and then. He headed down to the diner (after peeking around a corner to make sure neither Killian nor Emma were already there—though the fact that he’d slept in probably prevented that) and slipped onto a stool at the counter. 

This time, when Granny greeted him, it was much warmer. “Early lunch?”

“Aye; the usual, my dear,” he tested. “And I just couldn’t wait to see you,” he added with a wink. 

Granny blushed and chuckled, then shuffled off to the kitchen. Good; she was receptive to his flirting. If he was bold enough about it, surely that would stir up some ill will towards his brother; just what kind of man brashly flirted with a woman who wasn’t his wife? And there was a reasonable audience, even if mid-morning was somewhat slow. 

So hopefully someone noticed when he grabbed the bottle of whiskey sitting behind the counter and snuck it into his lap. 

A few minutes later, the older lady was back, sliding over a plate of fish and chips; predictable of his brother. “Fresh caught, extra vinegar on the chips—just how you like it.”

“Oh, you spoil me,” he replied, holding back a gag at the smell of the vinegar. He leaned across the counter, continuing, “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, you know where to find me,” then suggestively licking his lips. 

To his shock, she just laughed and patted his cheek. “You know you couldn’t handle me, sweetheart.” And went back to her business. 

Hm. Well, that wasn’t quite the response he expected. But he at least passed for Killian; that was a good sign. (Unfortunately, he had to sell it by actually eating this meal; thank the gods for the whiskey to wash it down.)

He headed down to the marina next, finding the easiest boat he could hotwire (which, with his magic, was all of them) and took a bit of a joyride, then poofed ashore when that got boring. 

After a trip through the pharmacy, where he got a five-finger discount on some mid-range rum, he relieved himself in the shrubs outside a convent, knocked over the displays outside the florist, pretended to need the services of the carpenter but just dumped wood stain over his wares, and dragged the tip of his hook along some parked cars. 

Briefly, he took a smoking break outside the elementary school and let the half-burnt cigarette fall into a bush outside a classroom, setting it alight. He was enjoying watching the slowly growing fire when the room’s window flew open and a petite woman with short, dark hair attacked it with a fire extinguisher. “Don’t you have anything better to do?” she snapped at him.

“No,” he answered succinctly, and transported away, hopefully leaving a scorch mark on the lawn, too.

He’d noticed a friendship between his brother and the librarian—the gorgeous woman who had seemingly questionable taste in men. He’d be shocked if the two of them had kept things purely platonic, despite their respective well-known relationships. And if they hadn’t…well, it was time for him to explore that, even if for his own enjoyment. 

The bell on the library rang as he entered. “You here, love?” he called out, suddenly realizing he’d never caught the lass’s name. 

“Right where you left me,” she shouted; shit, he forgot his brother worked here. That was a close call. He followed the sound of her voice to the next room, where he found her desperately trying to reach something on the top shelf. “Perfect timing; can you lend me a hand? Pun intended.”

“Ha,” he answered awkwardly, not sure if he should be acting offended or not. “But of course.”

He didn’t hesitate to grab the volumes she asked for, but rather than just hand them over, he took the opportunity to move into her space. “Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, trying to take a step back, but she didn’t get far before bumping into a cart. 

“That’s all my assistance is worth? ‘Thanks’?”

“Killian, you know I appreciate you—”

“So let me appreciate you, darling,” he said on a breath, leaning in close. “Don’t tell me you’ve never felt something…more…between us.” Subtly, he raised the blinds in the room so any passers by might see his attempted pursuit of someone who clearly wasn’t his brother’s wife. 

She looked up at him, lips parted, and he was aware of her heightened heart rate. She narrowed her gaze briefly. “No, I haven’t—Dorian.”

“Who’s Dorian?” he lied. 

Her knee found his crotch swiftly and strongly; she might be short and slight, but she was the perfect height to do optimum damage to his manhood. He stumbled back, dropping the books and holding his groin, groaning, with stars beginning to cloud his vision. 

“I can’t believe I almost fell for that,” she yelled. “You really thought I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“Ah, but you almost did,” he countered, even though his voice was incredibly strained. 

He could see her blushing even through his squinted view. “Never,” she insisted, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. “I won’t do that, and I won’t help you.”

He scoffed as his breath started to come back. “What use are you to me? Just a silly librarian; even if you are married to the Dark One.”

She smirked. “I’m used to people underestimating me. I suggest you don’t again. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to that painting of yours, would you?”

“My painting?” He wasn’t surprised she knew of it—this was a library, obviously, if even the book he’d inspired was largely fabrication—but he’d left it behind in another realm, hoping the distance (and that particular realm’s timelessness) would prevent its aging, or at least slow it. 

But then—he felt it. A faint heartbeat in his ear, just a millisecond behind his own but the same tempo: the heart of his True Love, continuing to carry a rhythm for him even though it was shattered and locked in canvas. It seemed to be coming from above them; he glanced up, trying to locate it, but didn’t get very far before his gaze was forced away rather painfully.

Belle had slapped him—again, stronger than he expected, but he’d been hit so many times that it hardly stung. “Get the hell out of here, and leave us alone.”

“Alright, alright,” he replied, and immediately poofed away—right into the attic of the library. The drumbeat of the heart was even louder up here, and he was easily able to follow it—while stepping lightly enough to not make a sound—to one end of the cluttered storage room. 

And there it was: his iconic portrait. It…wasn’t pretty. Not that it had been when he’d stashed it in the Land of Untold Stories, but it had definitely continued to deteriorate, though thankfully less than it probably should have. There was part of his soul that certainly felt like the withered, grayed, gnarled mess of a man in the image before him, but only a small one.

Actually, it was a good thing the portrait had made its way here; perhaps, when he achieved his plan, he’d also be able to sever his tie to this in favor of the dagger. He’d leave it here for now—but he’d be back for it later.

He had at least one more stop to make. So he transported again to an alley by the sheriff station, knocked over a mailbox, and casually headed inside. While it would be fun to see how far he could take things with Emma, he had no doubt she’d be able to see through this disguise even quicker than the librarian had. But the other deputy, the blond one—he might be slower on the uptake.

“Hey, Hook,” the man said, barely glancing up from the paperwork he was filling out. “Emma’s doing rounds.”

“Aye; I’m aware,” he said, sauntering closer. “I was here to see you, anyway.”

“Yeah?” The man—David, judging by the name plate on the desk—looked up at him. “What’s up?”

Dorian wasted no time in taking a seat right in front of him on the desk, cupping his (rather handsome) face, and quickly finding his lips.

The ensuing chain of reactions was honestly hilarious: the other man stilled at first, then leaned into it, but then seemed to realize who he was kissing and pushed away, jumping to his feet.

“What the hell was that?” he spat, wiping off his mouth on the back of his hand.

Dorian hopped off the desk and moved closer to David. “I was always curious; you mean you weren’t?”

“No!” he shouted. “Not like—just, no!”

“Was I that bad?” Dorian flirted, tilting his head. 

“No, you were—not my son-in-law,” David sighed, realizing who he was talking to.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Dorian replied. “And you’re only a halfway decent kisser.”

“My wife thinks I’m just fine,” David threw back, somewhat offended. “And if you’re trying to turn people against Killian, you’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

“You almost bought it.”

“Please; Killian only has eyes for Emma. Not that you’d know anything about True Love, I bet.”

Dorian glowered. “You don’t know anything about me, pal. Maybe get off your high horse with your generalizations.”

David stepped closer and put his hands on his hips; Dorian couldn’t help but feel like he was about to get a lecture. “I don’t know everything about you, but I’ve known enough people like you. I actually had a twin, too.”

“Oh? More than one of you? Must have been terribly dull.”

“Actually, you’d probably have gotten along with him famously; he was a selfish cad, too.”

“And where’s this fellow now?”

“Oh, he’s dead,” David went on. “From what I heard, he got a little too cocky, a little sloppy, and it came back to bite him. Or, well, stab him through the chest.”

“Ouch,” Dorian deadpanned. “And your point is?”

“Maybe you should ease up on making enemies. Because you don’t know which one is going to finally take you out.”

“And what—make friends instead?”

David shrugged. “Can’t hurt. Though I also can’t say you have good odds of finding many here, after all the drama you’ve stirred up so far.”

“No thanks.”

“Hey,” David said, softer, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve spent a long time chasing one thing, and it seems like you have nothing else to live for. But I watched your brother change his path; it’s not too late for you.”

Dorian gingerly pushed David’s hand off, like it was something disgusting. “Look, I know you hero types, and I know you mean well and want what’s best for me, or whatever. But I also know this: you have to want to change. Clearly my brother did. Me, though? I find good advice rather annoying. So save your breath.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I will, thanks.” And he transported back to his pilfered room at Granny’s.

His conversation with David was already forgotten; the deputy had probably hoped his words would linger and Dorian would reconsider his entire life. But no—he knew what he wanted.

And now, he just had to wait to see what fallout his (mis)adventures today wrought.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Late 1880s

Dorian stepped out of the portal onto a dirty cobblestone alley. Once the gateway closed behind him, he placed his second bean in his inner coat pocket for safekeeping, and sealed it with magic—which thankfully worked; he wasn’t sure what to expect as far as being able to normally access his powers in this so-called Land without Magic, but was glad to see they were so far unhindered.

Of course, the irony of this realm carrying that name was that he had come here seeking magic out. It wasn’t fully devoid, he could tell, but he’d heard that it was far-flung, infrequent, and hidden from the general populace.

Which was probably why it was so dark in this backstreet; what kind of uncivilized society hadn’t figured out proper outdoor lighting yet? He could see some primitive lanterns at the end of the way, on what looked to be a main street, but could smell the fuel in them from here.

As such, he conjured a fireball in his hand to get his bearings. He’d arrived in the corner of an alley that went between and behind buildings—great, grimy brick monstrosities. Some parchment sat atop abandoned crates along one side; he inspected closer, reading The Daily Telegraph across the top of the page, followed by a picture of a man identified as the Prince of Wales, which he had to assume was a meaningful title as no proper name was given.

He further studied the fashion of the man, then glanced down at his own clothes, which were decidedly not of this realm from what he could see. That was easy to fix, though, and with a wave of his hand, he was wearing a garment that closely resembled what he saw in the image: a coat with long-ish tails, slacks, and a waistcoat. He didn’t hate it, but the vest wasn’t quite his style. 

Anyways. That settled, he reached into a different pocket (he’d made sure the contents of those stayed the same regardless of what his jacket looked like) and pulled out a slip of paper with a name written on it: Basil Hallward. From what he’d been told, this man could help him find the magic he needed to get him one step closer to the Dark One’s powers.

(That Rumpelstiltskin bastard had placed so many protection spells over the Dark Castle, it was bordering on ridiculous. Didn’t he know it was once Dorian’s home? But no—the demon wouldn’t even grace him with a meeting to grant him access to his old quarters. Granted, he’d have been an idiot to, but one could hope. But perhaps here, in this land that seemed to reject magic, he’d find that which could break through those spells and reclaim his birthright.)

He glanced down both alleys in front of him. The one towards the street was empty—just brick walls and boarded-up windows—but going the other way, he could see a light glimmering outside an inconspicuous door. 

And if he wasn’t mistaken, the light in the lantern was not fueled by whatever oil illuminated the streets; no, this one was quite similar to the ball of fire in his hand. The portal had placed him in the right spot.

Before he headed to the door, he placed the slip of paper in his own flare, letting it fall to ashes on the stone pavement. Then he extinguished it with a shake of his hand and headed over.

Upon closer inspection, the lamp was indeed his variety of fire magic, though there seemed to be an object at the center of it that kept it burning. Clever, he thought; it meant less mental effort to keep it lit (not that he had to exert much anymore for such simple spells). 

The door itself was painted roughly to match the exterior wall—or it had been, once upon a time, and now was faded and flaking, but he could still make out where “B. Hallward” was written in yellowing letters.

He knocked, firmly and insistently, and then waited. He wasn’t naive enough to think he’d get an immediate answer, or even to think he’d be seen tonight, but there was also no sense waiting.

He listened close to the door for a minute or so, but if there was anything to hear, it was unnoticeable. Then he paced a bit, keenly aware of the sounds of his unfamiliar shoes tapping on the stones.

But after nearly 10 minutes, he had to concede that either Mr. Hallward was out for the evening, or didn’t wish to be disturbed. Well, surely a town of this size had a red-light district; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d spent a night in such an establishment (usually willingly). 

He began to walk towards the sounds of society, at the far end of this alley, when he paused; he thought he heard the turn of a deadbolt. He turned back to look at the door; it was still shut, but the color of the flame in the lantern had changed to blue. Curious.

He moved closer to it, and to his surprise, a small window appeared from nowhere. There was no glass inside it, but he could see nothing but blackness behind it. “Yes?” a voice called out from the void.

“Basil Hallward?” he asked.

“Who wants to know?” the voice replied.

“Someone who has traveled a great distance to seek you out.”

The voice cursed, probably realizing he’d revealed his identity without meaning to. “What for?” he finally came back with.

“A bit of magic,” he answered, then called forth his own fire again.

The window disappeared and the door swung open. “Come in,” the other man called out; Dorian didn’t hesitate to oblige.

Whatever he was expecting—this wasn’t it. Despite whatever spell lay on the entryway—and he could feel it as he stepped through—it was actually fairly light inside, with more enchanted lamps around the open space, which revealed the absolute clutter everywhere. And, to the back of the room, what appeared to be a painter’s studio. 

“You’re an artist?” he exclaimed, minorly disgusted. 

“That I am, sir,” the other man replied, and Dorian finally got a look at him: he seemed young—younger than him, at least—and the narrow mustache above his lip did nothing to make him appear older. He pushed his dark, curly hair out of his equally dark eyes. “What of it?”

“I came here looking for magic,” Dorian spat. “Not to sit for my portrait.”

“A pity; you’d make an excellent subject, with that profile. But I do both, actually.”

“Both?” He raised an eyebrow, skeptic.

“Aye; let me show you.” Basil beckoned Dorian towards his work bench; he hesitantly followed. The man picked up a vial of what Dorian assumed was pigment off the cluttered surface. He uncorked it and held it out. “Do you recognize it?”

Dorian narrowed his gaze and peered inside. It was just a black powder, but he recognized the smell. “Adder’s fork?”

“Good eye,” Basil commended. “And this?” he asked, holding out a small dish with a bluish powder. 

“Mermaid scale,” Dorian identified. “I don’t understand.”

“Magic works differently in this realm,” Basil explained. “No one here is born with it inherently, but what makes its way here usually requires a conduit—some physical tether. Me, I learned how to embed it in my paint, using these ingredients.”

“And then what?”

“Whatever you want,” Basil answered. “Within reason, of course.” He showed off a portrait of an expectant mother, explaining that the woman and her husband had been trying to have children for several years when he painted her; “Now, she has three children and another on the way.” Another painting displayed a vagabond sitting on a street curb. “His wife discovered he was cheating on her; now he’s destitute and she kept his wealth.”

“So you grant wishes?”

“In a sense. A fertility spell was embedded in this portrait, a curse of ill-luck in the other.”

Dorian glanced back at the work space and saw a good number of potion books—many of them he knew—across a bookshelf above it. “Ahhh,” he sighed in understanding. “Then you likely don’t have what I’m after.”

“Which is?”

“A way to break into a heavily fortified castle?”

Basil shook his head. “Afraid not. But if you have something of its occupant’s, we could probably find a way to cast them out, or at least make them horridly uncomfortable.”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Hope you didn’t come far, then.”

“Only a few realms away.”

Basil whistled low. “Then I at least owe you a drink. What’s your poison?”

“Whiskey?”

He nodded and led him over to a sitting area, where they proceeded to chat over (some damn fine) liquor. Basil was curious about the magical realms—he had some acquaintances who passed through the other worlds who supplied him with his materials, but had never been himself. Dorian wondered how he’d fallen into this line of work, then. 

“The man I apprenticed with taught me; passed on all he knew.” Well, that sounded familiar. 

As such, they got on famously, to the point that Basil offered Dorian use of a spare bedroom in his home for as long as he was staying in this realm. 

What the hell, Dorian thought. The Dark One wasn’t going anywhere—he could enjoy himself for a bit. (It wasn’t like he ever needed an excuse to do so.)

For the next few weeks, Basil showed him about this curious town—London, it was called, and far larger than he realized—and introduced him to many interesting people (and vices; opium was a delight, though he saw enough of the strung-out folks addicted to it to use in moderation).

They went to countless parties, gatherings, concerts, sporting events. At one such dinner, he met a writer named Oscar who seemed to be infatuated with him; he couldn’t say he disliked the attention. The man became a regular fixture in their outings as well (and maybe a few private nights). 

Dorian did oblige Basil to pose for a portrait eventually; far be it for him to deny the world his beauty. “And what enchantment will you weave into this one?” he asked, peering over his friend’s shoulder; Basil had finished painting his face and form, but nothing else yet. 

“None,” Basil replied simply. “You have enough magic on your own. 

(There may also have been a few nights he spent in Basil’s room, as well. He was hardly a choosy lover, so long as someone caught his interest.)

He smirked cockily at the praise and admired his face and form on the canvas. Basil was truly a gifted artist and, in his personal opinion, had perfectly captured Dorian’s handsomeness, strength, and form, down to the color of his eyes. 

However, later that night as he readied for bed, he caught a glimpse of something new in his reflection in the looking glass: was that…a wrinkle?

He pulled at the flesh around his eyes, watching as it stretched and returned. Indeed, there was a fine line—a few, even—in that delicate skin. 

He was 30 years old; he knew it was inevitable he began to look it (even if he dare say he looked better than most men his age). But it was a sudden, stark reminder: the being he was chasing was immortal; he, however, was not. 

(There was probably some sage advice somewhere about avoiding vice to extend his longevity, but…where was the fun in that?)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @wistfulcynic​ @pirateherokillian @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @killianmesmalls​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4 @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke @bluewildcatfanatic

[girltalkcollectives]

Dating Someone Who "Doesn't See Color" Until It's A Black Ariel

You know what's wild? Finding out your boyfriend has an issue with Black representation while you, his Black girlfriend, are sitting right there.

We were having a normal Tuesday night, scrolling through TikTok together when a clip from the new Little Mermaid came up. Halle Bailey was singing "Part of Your World" (absolutely killing it, by the way), and I was getting emotional because - hello - we finally got a Black Disney princess who isn't a frog for 90% of the movie.

Then my boyfriend said it: "I don't get why they had to change her. The original was perfect. It's like they're just doing this to be different."

I literally felt my body freeze. Here I am, a Black woman, sitting next to someone I'm dating, while he complains about a Black woman being cast as a fictional character.

The Layers of This Moment:

Let me break down what it feels like to hear your white boyfriend complain about a Black Ariel:

It's personal (because hello, I'm right here?)

It's hurtful (so what other "changes" bother you?)

It's revealing (oh, so this is who you are)

It's exhausting (here we go again)

The Conversation That Followed:

Me: "What do you mean 'change her'?"

Him: "You know what I mean. The original is classic. Why do they have to change everything these days?"

Me: "So a mermaid can be half-fish but can't be Black?"

Him: "That's not what I'm saying. You're making this about race."

Sir. YOU made it about race.

The Personal Hit Different:

You want to know what really got me? While he's sitting there complaining about "forced diversity," he's literally dating a Black woman. Make it make sense.

It made me question:

Does he see me as an exception?

Is he okay with Black people as long as we stay in our "lane"?

How does he talk about race when I'm not around?

Does he even understand why this matters to me?

The Uncomfortable Questions:

I started thinking about:

All the times he said he "doesn't see color"

When he dismissed conversations about representation

His "jokes" about certain movies being "too diverse"

How he never quite understood my experiences

The way he'd minimize racial discussions

When It Got Personal:

I tried explaining to him: "Do you understand that when you complain about a Black Ariel, you're basically saying people who look like me shouldn't take up these spaces? That your girlfriend, a Black woman, shouldn't be seen in these roles?"

His response? "You're being too sensitive. It's just a movie."

It's never just a movie.

What It Revealed:

If he couldn't understand why a Black Ariel matters to me:

Does he really see me?

Does he understand my experiences?

Would he stand up for me?

Does he respect my culture?

Will he ever really get it?

The Reality Check:

Dating someone who claims to love you but has an issue with people who look like you being represented is a special kind of hurt.

It's like saying: "I love you as an individual, but people like you should know their place."

Why It Mattered:

As a Black woman:

I grew up rarely seeing myself in princess movies

I never got to be Ariel in playground games

I was always told certain roles "weren't for me"

I had to fight to feel represented

I deserved better than someone who couldn't understand that

The Break Up:

When I ended things, he said I was "making everything about race."

No, baby. YOU made it about race when you couldn't handle a Black mermaid while dating a Black woman.

What I Learned:

Sometimes racism comes in "preferences"

Dating a Black person doesn't make you anti-racist

"I don't see color" actually means "I don't see you"

Your partner should understand why representation matters to you

Some differences aren't about opinion - they're about respect

To my Black girls dating non-Black people: You deserve someone who celebrates all of you, who understands why representation matters, and who would never make you feel like you need to shrink yourself or justify your existence in any space.

And to my ex: Halle Bailey ate that role up. Die mad about it.

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Summary (request from @thesassywallflower​ for @spnfanficpond​ Secret Santa): Donna is horrified to learn that the boys have never had a proper Christmas, so she invites them to her house for the holiday.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Donna Hanscum

Warnings/tags: explicit (eventually), fluff (? Idk), angst (? light), domestic (can’t get much more domestic)

Chapter WC: 2000

Author’s notes: There will be multiple chapters to this -- at least three, and they will all be written in 3rd person POV, shifting perspective in each section.

Many thanks and love to my dear friend and the very best beta ever @brrose-apothecary​.  Text divider by @talesmaniac89​.

________________________________________________________________

“That’s it,” Donna exclaims, after wiping down her machete and carefully replacing it in its secure case in the bed of her truck. “You two’re comin’ home with me.”

She’s hyper-aware that the Winchesters didn’t have the most conventional upbringing, but, dangit, how many more times will they break her heart with stories about never going to a Christmas party or experiencing the joy of opening gifts on Christmas morning?

“C- coming home with you?” Dean wonders aloud as if he’s testing the words in his mouth. As if she uttered the invitation in Old Norse.

“Yes, Dean. To Stillwater.” Donna turns to face the brothers who both eerily resemble that deer she missed by a hair’s breadth on Highway 95 last week. “Jody and the girls’ll be there, and all’s you need’re the clothes on your backs. We can stop at the dollar store down the street for you two to pick up a couple white elephant gifts.”

“Dollar store?” Dean asks, looking thoroughly bereft of understanding.

“Dean, stop repeating everything that comes out of my mouth. And close yours while you’re at it; you look like a drowning guppy.”

Donna rounds the side of her pickup to stride toward the driver’s side door. The brothers shuffle after her like a couple of 10-year-olds who’d rather be playing Super Mario than endure whatever perceived Hell she’s invited them to.

“Donna...” Sam lets his words hang in the air while both brothers huff and puff condensation into the frigid night air and fidget after her. “We’ve never been to a Christmas party or anything like that.” 

“That’s why you’re coming to mine. No excuses.” She spins on her heel and stares them down as they exchange looks and unspoken words.

Dean’s the one who breaks first. He swings his narrowed gaze back to her.

“Will there be mistletoe?” he asks pointedly.

Donna tries not to think about Dean and mistletoe at the same time. Not that she’s never imagined kissing him, but now is not the time.

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Of course! What kinda Christmas party would it be without mistletoe?”

Dean grins before slapping his brother on the back. “Well, Sammy, looks like we’re gonna have Christmas after all. Ya know, one without a Wood Nymph.”

“Huh?” Donna furrows her brow in question.

Sam shakes his head. “Never mind, long story,” he mutters. “I guess we’ll follow you?”

Donna claps her hands together as she nods, bouncing on her toes. “You betcha!”

“Can’t believe we almost passed this up,” Dean mutters to Sam as they unpack their bags, making a load of laundry. They each showered in Donna’s guest bathroom and she gave them some old clean sweatpants and t-shirts of her dad’s to wear for the night.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam agrees quietly, tossing his last pair of underwear to the floor. He’s pleased that Dean sees the value here in Donna’s home.

Ever since they defeated Chuck, Sam has tried a dozen different ways to get Dean out of the bunker and into a real house and real jobs. Dean seems frozen in time, though, like he can’t see that they can do just about anything they want now. They’re regular hunters — no angels or demons to battle (Jack and Rowena have seen to that). In fact, most of the monster world has quieted and stays in their own lanes.

“Imagine having this on the regular.” Sam tests the waters. “A washer and dryer from this century?” he chuckles, scooping up the dirty clothes and shaking his damp hair out of his face.

“Yeah, well, I doubt Donna wants a couple salty old hunters camped out in her guest room for the rest of her life.” Dean turns down the covers of his borrowed bed and inspects the pillow. “‘Sides, I like havin’ my own room.”

Sam watches Dean smooth his hands over the bedding, wondering...

He knows how Dean feels about Donna, even though his brother’s never put those feelings into words. Sam’s seen the way Dean looks at her, the way he touches her like she’s made of glass, and the tone of his voice when he says her name. Dean adores Donna, but even more than that, he wants her.

“What if...” Sam starts then pauses, shifting his weight. When Dean turns to face him with a questioning brow and wistful smile, he forges ahead. “What if you could share it with someone like Donna?”

Dean almost rolls his eyes as he slowly straightens his stance. His soft smile twists as he meets his brother’s gaze. Sam worries that he’s pushed Dean too far.

“And now we’re back to Donna deservin’ a lot better than...” Dean shakes his head and motions between himself and his duffle bag.

“Heya,” the woman in question sing-songs as she pokes her head around the door. “How ya doin’ in here? Need anything?”

Dean’s edge immediately smooths at the sight of the sheriff.

“Hey,” he answers with a quick, practiced grin. “We’re good. Better than. Just, uhh...” He reaches for the bundle in Sam’s arms. “Gonna throw this stuff in your washer if that’s okay?”

Sam notices the tiniest flush in Dean’s cheeks, and the sight squeezes his heart in his rib cage. Dean doesn’t think he deserves a life like this.

“Yep,” Donna replies, a bright smile gracing her freshly scrubbed and freckle-dusted face. “Right down the hall.”

“Alrighty then. Lead the way,” Dean says, following Donna to her laundry room.

Sam heaves a sigh before wandering to the small bookshelf in the corner for something to read.

Dean has nightmares almost every time he closes his eyes. Last night, he had a different kind of dream.

Donna was there, her soft blonde waves were piled on top of her head. Her fingers were floured and her big flannel shirt was dusted just the same. She laughed at his jokes and hummed through her smile when he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She smelled like butter and vanilla.

When he wakes, Sam’s already up and out of the room. A low light sneaks through the curtains, and Dean smells coffee. He rolls out of bed, runs his fingers through his hair, and makes his way to the bathroom across the hall.

“Dean, hey.”

Dean cocks his head and squints because it’s too damn early for pleasantries. It’s Kaia, though, and Dean owes that girl a lot of pleasant.

“Hey, kid. When’d you get in?” He turns toward her and she steps into his arms for a hug.

“‘Bout an hour ago,” she replies. “Claire’s in the kitchen.”

“‘Kay,” Dean answers pulling out of the hug with a lopsided smile. “Be there in a minute.”

Kaia nods and shuffles past him. “There’s coffee and french toast.”

“Nice,” Dean grunts, pushing through the bathroom door and switching the light on. When he sees his reflection, he groans. “Christ.”

His eyes are puffy and his hair’s sticking out in nine different directions. He shakes his head and sighs before taking care of business. Dean definitely puts the seat back down, washes his hands, and splashes his face and hair with water.

Before heading to the kitchen, he makes his bed and changes into his own clothes. As he shrugs into his flannel, he realizes it’s the one from his dream. The one Donna was wearing — his shirt and nothing else.

He could feel every dip and curve in his hands. She was so warm and soft. Dean’s thought about a hundred different ways to make her say his name the way she did in his dream. He can still hear her breathy voice in his head as he walks the length of the hallway toward the bright kitchen.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Donna greets him first, and his skin flushes with heat.

Before he can focus too much on it, Claire sacks him without a word.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs, holding her close. He isn’t exactly the picture of emotional growth, but since Cas… well, he’s trying to be more present.

Dean closes his eyes and buries his nose in her messy hair. She’s been smoking, and probably drinking by the looks of it. “Takin’ care of yourself?” He pulls back, gripping her shoulders and looking her in the eyes.

Her smile is crooked, and her blue eyes are shot red and rimmed with black, but she’s still the strong little girl from Illinois whose daddy loved God enough to leave her.

Claire shrugs. “More’r less.”

Dean huffs a wry laugh, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her. “Sounds about right.”

“Heeeyyy.” Jody and Alex round the island to greet him with hugs and Patience isn’t far behind.

“Coffee?” Jody asks.

“Absolutely. I also heard there was french toast. Or did I miss it?” He turns to find Donna extending a plate heaped with carbs, and a steaming cup of joe. “Awesome.”

He accepts the proffered items from Donna with a hearty thanks.

Jody and the girls retreat to the dining room where Sam sits, doing a crossword puzzle. He looks up and Dean nods a good morning to him before sliding onto a stool at the island.

“So, uhh, dollar store, huh?” He digs into his breakfast, trying not to ogle Donna’s ass in her cute little red and white snowflake leggings. The phrase ‘thick thighs save lives’ will be stuck in his head for the rest of his stay here and he isn’t mad about it.

Donna nods as she turns to face him with her own cup of coffee. “And if I give you a list, can you pick up some wine?”

Dean bobs his head as he chews and his eyes roll back. “Oh, yeah... Yes, anything. Holy shit, this is good.” He’s momentarily distracted from objectifying his hostess by the un-fucking-believable french toast.

Donna chuckles, jutting a hip against the island. “Family recipe. Just like the smorgasbord for tonight.” She sips her coffee and watches him devour the rest of the meal in silence but for Dean’s moans and groans of satisfaction.

How many times has Donna thought about this? About Dean Winchester sitting at her kitchen island eating a breakfast and coffee that she made? About him enjoying it?

Experts say that good food and good sex share neural pathways. That a person’s reaction to good food is similar to their reactions to good sex. That theory takes on a whole new level of wow when applied to Dean.

Dean drains his mug and wipes his mouth.

“More... anything?” Donna asks innocently -- or so she thinks.

Until Dean’s gaze flicks to hers for a hot minute. She could write his hesitation off as morning brain, but then he drops his gaze to her mouth. He licks his bottom lip into his mouth then slowly drags it through his teeth.

Donna’s breath catches in her chest and her insides flip.

“Hey, so, we should hit that dollar store, and I think Donna wants us to grab a few bottles of wine, right?”

Sam realizes a beat too late that he’s walked in on something; Dean looks ready to attack and Donna’s cheeks are fuchsia. The younger Winchester’s gaze bounces around the tension between Dean and Donna before he clears his throat.

Dean blinks a couple of times and shakes his head. “Yeah... yeah, uhh...” He draws a deep breath and looks back up at Donna. “Got that list?”

Donna gnaws at the corner of her anxious grin. “Oh, yeah. I’ll text it to ya.”

Dean nods and pushes out of his barstool. The brothers find their boots and coats in the front closet. As they walk out the door, Donna calls from the kitchen.

“Oh, and Dean? When you get back, you need to help me find that mistletoe.”

The screen door slams shut behind them, and Sam laughs.

Chapter Two

Please don’t leave without telling me what you think!

[glompcat]

The Official Complaint My Mother Talked Me Out Of Submitting:

On Friday, August 23rd, at 10:00 pm, I went to get gas for my car.

My parents live in [town name], and I have spent a lot of time there this summer as my 84-year-old father has had a major heart attack, and even now as he is out of [hospital name] and is recovering at [nursing home in town which has a rehab department] my 78-year-old mother needs a lot of help around the house, and I am an only child so the obligation to help falls entirely on my shoulders. On Friday my plan was to get gas and then head home to New York City, as I am currently bouncing back and forth between my parents' home and my own, and I had plans for the weekend.

So Friday night I am getting gas. When I finish filling my car up, I go to leave the gas station. There is a patrol car on Main Street and I signal they should go ahead of me. They do not. After waiting a little bit, I waved again and turned onto the road, and was now driving directly in front of the police car. I noticed as I was making my turn I had not had my lights on when I was in Cumberland Farm's parking lot, having turned everything off to fill the car up, and turned them on as I turned onto the road.

The patrol car road my bumper all through town. At first, I did not think that much about it. It is a two lane road, and the car behind me making all the same lane changes as me didn't seem that unexpected. As for the very tight distance between the patrol car and my car, I chalked it up to them being an aggressive driver. At the roundabout, I turned to head towards [neighboring town's name, they are on the way to NYC]. The patrol car followed, maintaining the tight distance between us. By this point I felt somewhat concerned, and to alleviate my worry about what I was sure at that time was just my anxiety getting the best of me, I decided to go to my parents' house before leaving town, to see if the officer would follow me. I was heartened when the car did not follow me onto my parents' cul-de-sac.

Assured it was just a matter of an aggressive driver and not deliberate intimidation, I decided not to stop at my parents' house and instead continue on my drive to New York City. It was 10:30pm when I reached my parents' driveway and decided not to stop.

As I reached the end of the cul-de-sac to turn back onto the street, I discovered the patrol car had been waiting for me by the turn onto my parents' street. The moment I left the private road my parents live on, the patrol car continued to follow my car at a minimal distance.

Now I was sure I was being played with, and called my mother in a panic.

Once I reached the [neighboring town's name] border, the patrol car started to flash its brights and turned around to head back into [my parents' town's name].

Sadly, at no point in the interaction was I able to see identifying markers on the patrol car, as it was both too dark to see them and paying attention to the road as I drove was my primary focus. I also was alone in my car, so the only witness I have is my mother, who I called when the car returned after I turned off her road. I am hesitant to list her as a witness on your form as she has expressed fear of retaliation from your department, which is also information you should know. Apparently your department has a reputation for being vindictive and petty. She asked me not to tell you anything because she was worried your department would extrapolate her address and identity as a [town's name] resident from my name and retaliate against her.

I can only conclude that your officers are out of control and abusing their power to intimate citizens. Every person from [town's name] I have relayed this story to said they think the officer was probably drunk, as that is apparently common for your department at night. A few people I spoke to pointed to the fact I am visibly queer, that the officer saw me at the gas station, and suggested the incident was motivated by bias. This fact, that this is what people assume your department is capable of, is also concerning. As someone whose elderly parents live in your town and frequently visits? I am very disturbed this is the quality of policing they must contend with.

[just-jae]

About Vivsiepop's Beelzabub

Lots of drama over Bee's design. My Thoughts:

Beelzabub's design isn't forein. She's a canine character, like the Hellhounds she rules over. She wears knicked tanktop and shorts- Just like Loona and Tex's everyday clothes. She even talks like Loona, which is the best way I can describe at the moment is City-youth culture.

About her colors-- the pink and blue aren't her true colors, those are for the "Cotton Candy" song she sings-- she's wearing cotton candy colors. When bathed in yellow. and when transformed, her clothes turn red and black, her glowy hair turns completely gold. Even her little tuft turns gold.

This Matches with the general colorscheme of the other hellhounds except for the Yellow/gold.

So her design matches other characters.

As for Bee's bug theme:

She's got six, thin, long limbs. Fly wings you can hear flapping around, antenae lashes and ears, and stripes. Which is all a call to the bug theme of Biblical Beelzabub, who may not have been specifically seen as a bee, but at least was a flying bug. Even so, there's no rule saying you HAVE adhere to previous depictions of an entity in a fictional work. You don't, and shouldn't have to know anything about the bible to track who a given character is. Biblical lore can help predict what a character's about, but the show's own writing is what makes and defines the character in that show (Something I get to later).

When it comes to character design basics, Bee's still pretty in-lane, being introduced with an easy-to-recognize silhouette.

When it comes to animation practicality, Bee's base design (clothes, patterns) doesn't seem much harder to animate than these guys.

Even then, Bee's animation is very high quality in this episode, like the animation in the "Truth Seekers" episode or some parts of "The Harvest Moon Festival". They were adding extra details to the animation for fun, not because her design required it. The Honey was globbier than it needed to be, her body movements more fluid and detailed than they needed to be. It was for fun.

They could have definitely animated Bee's honeymane simpler than this, if it were that much of a strain on the animators, and still retained the same design. Plus, there are shortcuts to pulling this off, like animating the basic outline first and having another layer behind it that doesn't follow the outline, but instead is cropped by it. They do this with Stolas' sparkly cape in "Ozzie's".

(Obv, Bee's honey was more hands on, but you can see a similar method used if you watch how the globules move.) They can also animate the lava effect by itself and drag that animation to stay inside the outline, which they seem to do for the lava belly.

Even then. The whole point of this episode was to celebrate the show's success and progress. They did all this out of joy and to have fun. The only thing I'd say could have been concretely "better" only really applies if you approach this as a serious, plot-significant episode (Which it isn't), and that's the writing of the Bee's introduction scene (which was a song that was more to celebrate the show and Spotlight Kesha than providing important context on the characters/setting/themes.)

Other than that, most of the criticism about Bee's design is preference (subjective), expectation (subjective), or an overreaction to furries (Ironically plenty of fans of this show apparently find furries disgusting or lame and saw Bee's design and went "A canine Sin? The Furries are taking over!") (Subjective).

Acting like this is Viv being lazy, uninspired, or unreasonable, is just-- unfair, and unwarranted negativity. People are really acting like this is their work, and not Viv's. Viv didn't do anything technically wrong with Bee's design. It's one thing to not dig it (I personally still haven't warmed up to Ozzy's, and prolly never will, but I warmed up to Bee's a lot faster- especially after seeing her personality) it's another to try to shit on the creator or act like their designs are "wrong" because of expectations or personal taste, ESPECIALLY for an episode that isn't plot relevant and was made to celebrate real-world things like Viv's success in producing her own show and being able to work with Kesha.

Chill the fuck out, and kudo's to the team.

End thoughts.