#then she shows up anyway because she wants to make up and she’s looking for him the whole time and can’t find him and then there he is ;-;

[scribes-of-valar]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh. 

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie. 

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world. 

You could gag. 

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression. 

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school. 

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel. 

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

No. It will definitely still hurt. 

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him. 

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down. 

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him. 

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how. 

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.  

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class. 

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you. 

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday. 

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone. 

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look. 

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?” 

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you. 

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would. 

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face. 

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch. 

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” 

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon.  Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you. 

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-” 

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say. 

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?” 

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.” 

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself. 

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark. 

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls. 

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done. 

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly. 

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing. 

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you. 

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her. 

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling. 

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look. 

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone. 

“Wait-” 

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said. 

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away. 

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark. 

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet. 

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look. 

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows.  Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.  

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars. 

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.  

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.  

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens. 

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. 

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back. 

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave. 

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it. 

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class. 

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth. 

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever  he was badgering you about this morning. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway. 

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff. 

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him. 

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car. 

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat. 

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours. 

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel. 

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip. 

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free. 

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name. 

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake. 

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine. 

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.  

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged. 

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed. 

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car. 

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown. 

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again. 

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look. 

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one.  “How long have you been able to do this?” 

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost.  “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one. 

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot. 

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement. 

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat. 

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?” 

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head. 

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone. 

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened. 

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town. 

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week. 

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town. 

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that. 

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever. 

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window. 

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside. 

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.  

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you. 

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth. 

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you. 

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face. 

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark. 

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. 

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair. 

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can. 

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth. 

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”  

You look away, but he’s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

end. — I do not own the characters or the TV Show Smallville, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[daydreamabout]

Unspoken Comfort [Tim Bradford Imagine]

Summary: Tim shows up at Y/N's place after she called in sick because of a breakup.

The morning had been quiet, almost eerily so. Y/N had woken up with a heavy heart, the realization of what had happened the night before still fresh in her mind. She’d spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, wondering if she had done the right thing. And when the sun finally came up, it didn’t bring any sense of clarity. She had broken up with Alex—her boyfriend of the past year—after months of growing apart. The decision had been hard, emotionally draining. In the end, she knew it was the right choice. She couldn’t keep pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t.

Still, the pain lingered. Her chest felt tight, her body felt heavy, and the last thing she wanted to do was go into work and pretend like everything was fine. She couldn't focus on the job, not today. She needed time to heal, to think, to process. So, she did what she always did —texted Tim.

“Hey, I called in sick today. Broke up with Alex last night. Need some space.”

In the evening the doorbell rang, and for a moment, Y/N didn’t move. She knew who it was. She’d been dreading this moment all day, but here it was. The knock, the familiar voice calling her name, like it always did. But today was different. She’d been lying on the couch in her worn-out pajamas, staring at the TV screen as if it might offer some solace. Her mind was heavy, heart aching from the mess her life felt like—another failed attempt at something she’d wanted so badly, a relationship that had crumbled like the walls she’d tried so hard to build around herself.

Tim wasn’t supposed to be here. She hadn’t asked for him to show up after his shift. Y/N dragged herself to the door and opened it slowly, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She barely looked at him, just stood there, holding the door halfway open, as if trying to keep some kind of distance between them.

"Hey," Tim’s voice was softer than usual, but he didn’t push. He didn’t ask her how she was, didn’t make any comment about how messy she looked. Instead, he simply nodded toward the apartment, his eyes searching her face with a mixture of concern.

Without a word, Y/N stepped back and let him in, her movements slow, as if the weight of everything pressing on her made it hard to move. She didn’t offer him a drink or a seat—she didn’t even tell him she was fine, though she knew he wouldn’t believe it anyway.

Tim set his jacket on the back of the chair and moved toward the couch where she was curled up again. His steps were quiet, almost reverent, as though he was treading carefully around the fragile silence that filled the room.

“The shift was kind of boring without you,” he said softly, sitting on the edge of the couch, not too close but close enough to be there if she needed him. Y/N didn’t respond at first. She just let out a long, tired breath, her body sinking further into the couch cushions as if she wanted to disappear into them. Tim then didn’t speak for a while. He just sat there, the silence between them stretching on, the only sound coming from the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the faint noise of a sports game playing in the background.

After a few moments, Tim shifted slightly. He looked at her, and then without asking, he made the decision. Gently, he reached out, touching her shoulder, just the slightest pressure. Her breath hitched slightly, and for a second, she just lay there. Then, almost like her body finally surrendered, she rolled over, curling up against him. She didn’t say anything, but the subtle way she leaned into him, the way her body melted into his, told him everything.

He didn’t hesitate. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her in, careful not to disturb her too much, as if she were fragile. She was warm, soft, and it felt so natural, as if they had been doing this for years. The weight of her head against his chest, the way she fit perfectly against him, was something that felt comforting and safe. He leaned back slightly, making himself comfortable on the couch while she just… existed with him. They didn’t speak for a long while, but he didn’t mind. He was there, in the quiet, offering what little comfort he could. Her breathing started to slow as she settled deeper into his embrace, exhaustion taking over as she let herself be held. The sports game on the TV continued to play in the background—something mundane, something mindless that didn’t require either of them to engage. It was the perfect distraction, the kind of noise that didn’t demand attention but was just enough to fill the silence between them. It was familiar, grounding, in a way that made everything feel just a little less heavy.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her voice so quiet that it could have been mistaken for a dream. She felt his chest rise and fall beneath her as he exhaled, her words hanging in the air for a moment. Tim pressed his cheek against the top of her head, the soft strands of her hair brushing against his face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly. “I’m here for as long as you want me to.”

She didn’t say anything more. There was nothing else to say. Just the steady rhythm of their breathing, the sound of the game on TV, and the feeling of warmth that surrounded them both in that small space.

[dawns-beauty]

The Elves of Winterhold part 1

[project post]

Picking back up with some College characters

Nirya

I wanted to try to set Nirya and Faralda farther apart looks-wise, so I decided to go fancy and stylishly gilded for Nirya. Her ornamentation would be right at home in the halls of Alinor, so why not show that she is a level above the mages in this backwater dump?

Faralda

For Faralda, I wanted her to be a little less outwardly-polished than Nirya. Why would she be overly concerned with style when she has substance? Arch-Mage substance, even. (If anyone can suggest a good curly hair mod for her, hit me up. I tried to find one that didn't look too artificial or dated, no dice.)

Brelyna Maryon

I tried to stay somewhat in line with her original design, while making her look young. She has a custom hairdo, scarification along her brows, and some Telvanni earrings

Drevis Neloren

It's a good thing his invisibility spell didn't work, because then you couldn't see his cute little spectacles and earrings.

Enthir

Originally, I thought I would go fairly simple for this sneaky fella. Give him a little scar, sure, his business of acquiring things is a bit risky. But then I also thought: why not give him some horns with glowing, pulsating runes on them?

Anyways. I also did some slight tweaking on my Savos' redesign that I don't think I've posted anywhere:

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

Hello, I hope you are well.

eI'm thinking A LOT about a reader who is completely obsessed with Logan, like they're in a relationship, and she doesn't hide the fact that she's completely in love and compassionate with him because she knows everything this poor man has been through and just wants to take care of him and make him happy, and Logan is kind of lost because no one has ever done this for him and he feels very loved and wants to reciprocate. anyway it's just an idea, thankssss :)

Hello! I'm doing well and I hope you are as well. Thank you for this request! I loved writing it and I hope I did it justice and that you enjoy it!

At first, he would get flustered when you openly showed how much you loved him. He knows you loved him, obviously you did or why else would you be with him? But he wasn't used to someone being so open with PDA.

The two of you had planned a night out with some friends. The plans were simple, a dinner and some light shopping. Logan wasn't expecting you to still stick to him closely as you do when the two of you are alone, but he wasn't upset about it either. The two of you sat on one side of the booth while your friends sat on the other. Light conversation was flowing with ease as you began to cuddle into his side. He just wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he continued talking to your friend about the latest hockey games score when he felt you twiddle with his fingers. He froze mid-sentence and looked down at you to see what you were doing, and his heart skipped a bit when he noticed you were talking to your friend, and you were completely playing with his finger absentmindedly. He never truly realized how easy it was for you to love on him openly until this moment.

He also wasn't used to someone putting their life on hold to do something for him.

He was having an awful day, and he just couldn't find it in himself to function properly anymore. He knew you had a busy day today so he was planning on going to bed to sulk until you got home and then he would make dinner for the two of you. As he got home, he was taken back by the sight of you already there. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't going to be home until eight?" He asked in a hoarse tone. Your heart ached for the man as you took in his beaten down form, "I took the rest of the day off, you sounded off earlier on the phone, thought you might need someone." You went to him and stood on your toes to kiss his cheek. "Want to help me make dinner?" He could feel his heart swell with the amount of love you give him. "I'd love to" He muttered with a soft smile. As the two of you danced between one another in the kitchen, he felt his body finally ease from carrying all the tension he collected throughout the day.

The longer Logan is with you the easier it is for him to open up, to love freely, and there isn't a day that goes by that he isn't completely and utterly in awe by you. You chose him, something he'll never be able to wrap his head around, but he never wants to witness you loving someone as easy as you love him.

Taglist:

@userchai

@mahi-tamashi

@100percentlazybonez

@lanassmarty

@western-pyro

@misscrissfemmefatale

@marit332

@navs-bhat

@fluffy-b33z

@chaimshelii

@aoi-targaryen

@eyes-ofhell

@sad0ni0n

@fries11

@slowlikehoneyyy

@brisinggamenwearer

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hii do u have any headcannons for reader being Baji's little sister and Mikey having a huge crush on her, but Baji is like suuuper protective of her and refuses anyone from the gang to date her because him being her brother is already dangerous as is, I hope this ask isn't too complicated 😅

Ok I set this in the good timeline and there's also two endings. We have the sfw ending which is with all the other hc's and we have the nsfw ending which is clearly labelled at the end. You guys can choose which ending you want to read (the bullet point with the star is where you should switch if you only want the nsfw ending).

Baji is very very vocal about the rules around his little sister, makes it very clear to all the guys that you're off limits and "too good for all of them anyway".

Unfortunately for Baji though, he's keeping an eye on the wrong ex gang members. He eyes the way Hakkai blushes to you, chases Kazutora and Hanma for saying they plan on dating you (they're actually just teasing Baji), raises his eyebrow at how friendly Chifuyu is with you and yells at the Haitani's for trying their pick up lines on you. The point is Baji is so distracted by the others that he never sees Mikey coming until it's too late. 

Mikey starts off simple, just getting you alone one day and asking you what you really thought about your brother's "rules". And as he watches you giggle and call Baji caring but too overprotective, he thinks he falls even more in love. 

And so operation "make y/n fall in love with Mikey" begins. Of course Mikey assembles a mini team for this. Including Draken (he think this is an awful idea and Baji will kill them all), Emma (she thinks the two of you will be cute together), Takemichi (he is very scared of the consequences of doing this), Sanzu (anything for Mikey) and Kisaki (has no idea why he's here and thinks this is a waste of time). Of course these meetings don't do much but Mikey does get some advice.

You start getting mini anonymous presents daily, always pretty or thoughtful things, the card is always just signed with a heart. (Baji is very concerned when he finds out).

Mikey also comes up with elaborate plans to get you alone so the two of you can hang out and get to know each other more. These mostly involve distracting Baji in some way, either by telling someone to hang out with him or by telling him a cat needs his help a few miles away. Baji falls for it everytime, rushing off and leaving you alone. 

He's very touchy with you whenever the two of you are together. He'll happily hold your hand, hug you and lean his head on your shoulder if he gets tired.

Also loves to take you for rides on his bike, Baji barely ever let's you ride with him because of the risk so Mikey figures it's up to him to show you how much fun it is (the feeling of you clinging to him is great too). 

Mikey really likes hanging out with you and get's a little sad whenever it ends but he can't risk Baji seeing this, not yet.

He takes you to the sea often too, sharing a taiyaki with you and talking about anything that comes to mind. It's here that he finally confesses to you and here where the two of you share your first kiss after you confess back to him too. 

You two become experts at secret dates and secret looks at each other. 

Even in front of Baji the two of you find ways to flirt and be affectionate with each other. Mikey whispering you a compliment as he walks past you. You telling Mikey he dropped something but when he picks up the paper it's just a note from you telling him how much you miss him during these big gatherings. Baji never even suspects anything at all.

It is a little difficult hiding your relationship at times but the two of you feel like you could do this forever but of course nothing can last forever.

☆It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

The two of you had just settled down to watch a movie, happily sharing a blanket and cuddling when Baji walked in. Turns out the trip had been cancelled but that's nothing compared to the chaos that was about to go down.

Baji stands there for a moment, staring in disbelief at his oldest friend and his baby sister together. You and Mikey stare back in shock, no one daring to move until Baji opens his mouth to start yelling or talking. You're not sure what he was about to say because before he could get even a word out Mikey launched a pillow at his face, giving himself a head start to start running.

Baji very quickly shot out of the apartment after Mikey all while yelling "MY SISTER!!!!" You watch them for a moment before sighing and calling Draken. Before then calling Ryoko, if anyone could talk sense into your brother it was definitely your mother. 

After Draken (and Mitsuya, who he brought along as backup) separated them and Baji got yelled at down the phone by Ryoko a truce was made. You and Mikey could date and Baji wouldn't kill him if you kept all of that relationship stuff away from him and out of sight. It was a lot better then either you or Mikey had expected (largely thanks to Ryoko) so you both happily agreed. Holding hands and walking off together to Mikey's apartment this time (all while Baji yelled about how holding hands counts as "relationship stuff"). 

Nsfw ending

It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

Eager to see and feel each other, things got steamy very quickly. Mikey was just in the middle of thrusting into you, in and out, getting lost in the warm, velvety feeling of your walls. While you were letting small moans and whimpers slip as Mikey went deeper, hitting your spot and making you see stars everytime. Both of you were so close and lost in each other that neither of you heard the key in the door or the door swing open. You moaned as it finally became all too much and you came, the feeling pushing Mikey over the edge with a groan as he releases his thick load into you. Neither you get to enjoy it for long though as Baji announces his presence with a dangerous growl.

Mikey frantically tries to cover you before putting his clothes on in record time and racing out of the door with Baji quickly pursuing him. All while he yells "MY SISTER!???? AND ON MY SOFA!?????" 

Putting some clothes on and cleaning up the mess as quick as you can, you frantically run after them. Who knows what Baji will do to Mikey after seeing that, whatever it is you need to stop it.

You think you're getting close as you hear raised voices but suddenly your wrist is being grabbed and some strang man is holding you still.

"Hey I recognise you! You're Baji Keisuke's sister, yeah. That fucker beat me up years ago, made me lose my gang and my reputation, I've always wanted to make him pay..."

You only see the knife for a second before it's being kicked out of the guys hands and you're being pulled away. Baji holds you in his arms, both of you needing that comfort while Mikey knocks the guy out. They worked together to save you and without knowing it, Mikey proved he's more then capable of keeping you safe. 

He's still a little reluctant but Baji gives you his blessing, after muttering about needing to bleach his eyes out. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home Grown 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Cole Turner

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Cole and Eartha.

Summary: loneliness can drive one to desperate measures.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Cole is tired. He's never really not. He spends all day on his feet, cleaning up some clog in the drains or fending off the pests in the fields. There's not much going on aside from the constant battle with the earth for his livelihood. His family's too.

Ever since his dad had a stroke, it's been on him to balance it all. His sister if off who knows where with who knows his name and his mom is looking after his dad. So it's all up to him to keep this place going. And it's all on her to keep him going.

The shame used to make him squirm. His skin would burn and his blood would boil. He'd close his laptop and mope, feeling bad for himself, calling himself weak. Then he'd open it back up and keep doing it. His persistence became indifference, Not to her. No, he only ever thinks of her. He just doesn't care if it's wrong because it makes him feel right.

That night, he's addled. His dad isn't doing well, his mom is worried despite efforts to hide that, and he can't get an answer from his sister. She said she'd come see them so he could spend more time working. Not that he really wants to.

He slips his phone into the little plastic pocket to protect it from the water. He balances it on the rack that hangs around the showerhead and he cranks the faucet to a steaming spray. He stands under it as he lets it wash away the tension and waits for the stream to buffer. It's taking a bit today but sometimes it happens. Out here in the farm lands, reception is spotty.

It's not working. He's lathered up by the time the error shows. Disconnected... Strange. Why?

He gives up with a sigh. The one thing he has to look forward to and even that isn't going his way. He'll give Jensen a call when he's done.

He rubs dry his hair as the water drips down his legs onto the mat. He looks down at himself then moves to face his reflection in the mirror. He's not an ugly guy. He's not being a narcissist, he just doesn't think he's that bad. He shouldn't be alone. Still.

He huffs and wraps the towel around his waist. He grabs his phone from the show and closes the curtain. He walks down the hall and locks himself in his room. His bars are full. He shouldn't be having issues with a signal.

He dials out and waits for Jensen to pick up. He does right as Cole expects to go to voicemail. He's whisper.

"Hey, dude," Jensen scuffs around.

"Busy?" Cole asks.

"Eh, sorta, just..." he clears his throat. "All clear now, bud. What's up?"

"Mm, well... you remember... that... feed. So, er, it's not working."

"Hm, and it's just on her laptop?"

"Yeah," Cole sits on the bed and chews his thumb. "All of a sudden."

"Did the error have a code?"

"Uhhh yeah, I think," he recalls the numbers as best he can.

"Device is either off or broken. Could be both. You could give it a few days and see," Jensen suggests.

"Sure, but, er..." A few days is a long time especially when they're so slow. "Yeah, you're right. I'll wait her out."

"Dude, trust me, I get it. Boss went out of town last week and I saw her pack her favourite toy," he purrs grossly. "Anyway, it's about that time for me."

The line clicks. Good. Jake kinda weirds him out sometimes. He drops his phone.

He'll be cool about this. He can handle a few days without watching her. I mean, she's a stranger. They've never even met. She doesn't even know he exists. So he can log off and touch grass, so they say.

~

The days pass in a torturous slog of dirt, pollen, and lonely nights. Cole is wound tight, ready to snap as he has a thousand things pulling at him at once. His mom wants to hire a nurse, his dad is getting aggressive with everyone, and his sister just convinced his mom to send her money they don't have. Worst of all, he's alone. He's not sleeping because all he does is dream of her.

As he cuts away the rot from the tomato vine, he catches the tip of his glove, just enough to pinch himself good. He curses as a flash of rage swells in him. He whips the clippers into the dirt and snarls. Goddamn it!

He paces back and forth angrily. He rips off the gloves and tucks them into his workbelt. He combs his fingers through his hair and prowls like a wild beast. He can't take it anymore.

He takes his phone out and calls Jensen. It takes two tries but he gets an answer. Not a happy one.

"Dude, I had to leave a meeting--"

"Feed's down," Cole interrupts. "I'm having a real bad day and I need--- I need it."

"Jesus, you sound like it. Hm, okay, you know her email?"

"Uh, sure I do," Cole says.

"Right, you know everything," Jensen laughs. "Come on, guy, let's not pretend here. We're all a bit freaky. So, I'll send you something. Don't click on the link, got me? You take that template and forward it to her. I'll include instructions so you can dupe the sender... she'll think it's some bullshit coupon redemption or whatever. She clicks on it, you got full access again."

"Really? That easy?"

"Well it all depends on her, doesn't it?" He snorts. "Alright, I'll get that too you when I can. Gotta go."

The call ends. Cole leans against the fence and sighs. He better follow through. Better yet, it better work.

[hard-core-super-star]

OWN MY MIND [wandanat]

pairing: top!wanda maximoff x bottom!natasha romanoff

summary: wanda's crush on natasha has grown to nearly unbearable levels. instead of pining after her, she decides to do something about it during a party.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! -> porn with plot; wanda has a crush and she's about to make it EVERYONE'S problem; semi-public sex; slightly obsessive wanda go brr; so much teasing; the clothes stay on because i say so; thigh-grinding; fingering [nat receiving]; neck kisses; i got hooked on the idea so there's a lot of expostion; shitty dirty talk; so much bickering

wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: I'M ALIVE! i did not mean to disappear again but life had other plans 😅that being said, I'M OKAY! i survived a very stressful january and my writer's block seems to be easing somewhat. every year i say i'll be more active on here and it doesn't always work very well BUT i'm trying! anyway, i hope you guys are doing well, my askbox is always open for you all. that being said, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

There wasn't much Wanda was sure of anymore.

At some point, she'd been sure her and her family were going to be safe. She'd been proven wrong the day a Stark Industries missile crashed into her living room, sending all her childish hopes of safety with it.

After that, she'd been sure she'd never leave her brother's side, even agreeing to become an experiment for HYDRA to guarantee their safety. Their powers had helped and even when Ultron appeared, she was sure they'd figure things out together.

That dream had instantly been shot down, along with Pietro and the remnants of her home, after Ultron's attack.

She hated thinking about it. About everything she lost. About the dreams she'd held onto for most of her life that were meaningless now. That didn't serve any purpose other than reminding her she was alone.

Sure, she had the Avengers now but...they didn't understand her. Not the way her brother had.

Clint tried his hardest to be there for her before he left to be with his family, do doubt feeling guilty over something that wasn't his fault. He wasn't to blame for Pietro's sacrifice and they both knew blaming him wouldn't bring the speedster back anyway.

In a weird way, though, the archer was the only one who truly understood her grief so when he left...Wanda did what she had always done. She retreated into herself, ignoring the looks of the rest of the team and Vision's borderline annoying insistence that she talk to someone.

She didn't need to talk about anything. There was nothing to talk about. Nothing that could change the pain she carried every day.

Nothing...except Natasha Romanoff.

Their friendship hadn't come out of nowhere despite how hard the older woman liked to act otherwise. Even without her powers, she knew Clint had been the one to push Natasha in her direction. It was also obvious that the Widow had no idea what to do.

It was weirdly charming.

Despite how hard she tried to act like she cold and heartless, Natasha cared. She cared a lot more than she wanted to. Especially about Wanda.

So, when the older woman started appearing outside her door at ungodly hours of the night, seemingly unaware of the tear that stained the witch's cheeks, and inviting her to train with her...Wanda decided trusting her wouldn't do any harm.

That much was true. No real harm came from getting close to Natasha. If anything, she helped more than anyone at the Tower had even tried. She didn't care that Wanda didn't want to talk about what happened in Sokovia, that her inner demons showed their face every night and left her with nightmares too intense to ignore, that her powers grew stronger every day.

The Widow didn't seem to care about the details. She simply cared enough to be there. Sometimes she showed up earlier, before any nightmares could haunt her dreams, other times she showed up later and with a tea in hand that she quickly offered to her. There were no words exchanged but she knew.

And that meant more to Wanda than she could even put into words.

Those feelings, though, quickly grew out of her control. It happened almost on accident, practically without thinking. All she knew is that one day she felt...drawn to Natasha in a way she hadn't noticed before.

To the curve of her neck, the flex of her biceps, the tension in her jaw when she throws a punch. All the little details came together and left her feeling far too confused for her liking.

Confused and yet far too in control.

And to say Wanda was slowly becoming obsessed with control would be an understatement.

This flurry of thoughts is what leads her to do something too far out of her comfort zone. It's a shitty idea, she knows that, but when Vision off-handedly tells her of the party Tony will be throwing later that day, a plan slowly starts forming in her head.

A plan that involves a certain redhead and the confusing feelings that settle low in her stomach when they're alone together. Of course, she's not a stranger to desire, she knows what her feelings really are, but that doesn't mean she's exactly okay with them. With the suddenness and the intensity of her thoughts. Of the fantasies she longs to make a reality.

She's just as patient as she is stubborn, though, so she waits. Waits until the party is in full swing, until she's all dolled up in her favorite dress, paired with the leather jacket she never gave back to redhead, and then she strikes.

It must look weird. It certainly feels weird, stepping out into the crowd instead of avoiding everyone in her room. She has to step out of her comfort zone if she wants to go after what she wants, though, and she's determined to sink her teeth into Natasha before the end of the night.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to wait long for her opportunity.

As soon as she makes her way into the bustle of the party, she scans the room for the Widow. She finds her by the bar, chatting with Tony and Rhodey with a drink in hand.

Even though she wants to waste no time, she decides to linger. To let the anticipation build and see how long it'll take Natasha to bite. It's both torturous and enticing. A borderline perverted mix of longing that makes her heart threaten to burst out of her chest.

When Natasha's eyes finally meet her gaze, she sends a soft smile her way before pretending to be incredibly interested in her drink. It's a cheap strategy, she knows that, and yet it's one that works in her favor.

She only has to wait a few more minutes before the Widow untangles herself from Tony's drawn-out (although probably annoyingly entertaining) story and makes her way over to her.

"I didn't take you for a beer girl," she says, raising a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at her.

"There is a lot you don't know about me," Wanda replies, her accent coming out strong. It's half on purpose and half on accident. It tends to slip out easier when she's around people she's genuinely comfortable with.

And Natasha is right at the top of that list. Even if she doesn't fully know it.

The Widow lets out a soft huffing sound in response. It's not quite a laugh, but there's an edge of fondness to it that neither of them can fully ignore. It's not every day she allows herself to be so unguarded.

"You're pretty and witchy, what else is there to know?"

The teasing remark only makes the younger woman's smile grow wider. "Does that mean you think I'm pretty?"

Wanda accompanies her question with an alluring tilt of her head, watching in amusement as Natasha takes a long sip of her drink to avoid answering. Even if she doesn't say the words, she's been caught red-handed and the witch couldn't be happier about it. Maybe her sudden desire for the woman isn't as one-sided as she'd allowed herself to believe.

"What are you even doing here?" Natasha asks, her tone far too casual for the intensity in her gaze. "You hate Tony and you hate parties."

The witch in question simply shrugs. "I was tired of sitting on my ass."

This time, the Widow actually laughs. "Clint should have never taught you that phrase."

"I don't know, I think it's quite fitting." She pauses for a moment, letting the air between crackle with a hard to define energy. One just as powerful and unpredictable as her own powers. "You seem to like looking at my ass."

The older woman's eyes widen before quickly darting around them. Sure, they're leaning up against the ridiculously placed bar but no one around them is paying attention. Tony and Rhodey left to find someone else to bore with their competitive stories and everyone else is scattered around the room, too engrossed in their conversations or their drinks to pay them any mind.

Not to mention, Wanda would never allow them to notice them. It's not mind control, not really, which means she feels no guilt at manipulating reality for a few moments.

"Since when are you so bold, Maximoff?"

"Since I decided to start going after what I want." 

This time, she pairs her words with a subtle step forward. It's not enough for their bodies to press together, but the intention is more than clear. It's a hint and a warning all wrapped up in one. One the Widow could easily ignore if she wanted to.

Wanda almost expects her to, considering how shifty her eyes are. How her attention seems to bounce around the room more and more. She's sure she's never seen the older woman so nervous before. It's as cute as it is enticing.

Finally, Natasha relents. She lets out a long sigh, her gaze shifting back to Wanda's. "You couldn't find a more appropriate time for that?"

The younger woman's smile turns into a smirk. Her free hand reaches out, manicured fingers running down the length of the redhead's arm. "We could always...sneak away, just the two of us..."

Natasha lets out a soft chuckle at that, her resistance clearly wavering, even as she tries to hold strong. "I don't think that's a smart idea, princess."

Wanda's pout is almost enough to make her melt. Almost.

"Why not? Aren't we on the same page about this?"

"It's not that simple."

The witch knows she should at least ask why. That she should pretend to care about the hesitations she knows are swimming around in Natasha's head. She doesn't need to read her mind to know what they are, why they matter. But it's hard to think straight when her advances aren't being rejected. When she's so close to getting what she wants.

So, instead of doing any of the rational things the Widow seems to be struggling with, she wordlessly grabs her hand and leads her away from prying eyes. They're a few ways away but still near the hustle and bustle of the party. Far away to fully hear each other but close enough to be caught if someone decided to wander around.

She's not fully thinking about that possibilty, though. All her focus is on Natasha and getting her to admit how much she wants her. How much she needs this too.

Without thinking about the consequences, she pushes the older woman up against the wall, their eyes meeting once more. The bright green flecks of Natasha's eyes seem to sparkle almost dangerously. Unfortunately, Wanda is too far gone to heed the warnings.

"Wanda, we can't." There's no real discomfort in the Widow's voice. No real attempt at getting the younger woman to stop.

So, she doesn't.

Wanda merely lets out a soft hum but makes no attempt to step away or fully listen to the older woman's complaints. Instead, she leans in more insistently, her lips trailing up Natasha's neck and leaving heated kisses on her skin.

The redhead wants to pull away. To tell Wanda to stop and let her walk away before they do something they'll regret. It's impossible to fight against her, though. Especially when her hands join the slow exploration.

"Why can't we?" The witch asks, her hands settling on Natasha's hips. "Why do you want to pretend like you don't want me?"

The sound the redhead makes is somewhere between a huff and a groan. "That's not what I'm doing. I'm just trying to be smart about this." 

"There's nothing smart about this," she replies. "But I want you and you want me. What more do we need?"

Natasha opens her mouth to answer but Wanda doesn't give her a chance. In one swift move, she hooks the redhead's leg around her waist before pressing herself against her, drawing a soft gasp from her parted lips.

"You were saying?"

"You're so annoying, little witch."

The teasing nickname makes Wanda huff. Sure, it also makes her heart skip a beat but mostly, it annoys her. "Then tell me to stop, 'Tasha."

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

There it is. The permission she'd been waiting for. The clear admittance that their feelings were the same. That the sparks of desire she'd been feeling during training weren't one-sided delusions.

The witch wastes no time in connecting their lips once the realization hits her. Despite the intensity of their desires, the kiss is surprisingly soft. 

It's still more than a little desperate and yet there's an edge of affection that makes them melt. That leaves them craving more.

Thankfully, they both have more than enough ideas on how to fix that craving. The youngest of the two takes the leap first, though, not one bit embarrased of showing how desperate she is for more.

 Wanda grinds her hips up against Natasha's, slowly hiking her dress up to reveal the smooth skin underneath the fabric. There's something about both the setting and their outfits that drives them both mad. Something about being so exposed and yet so composed at the same time. Something about the matching black fabric of their dresses that turns them on more.

Her lips leave the Widow's just to trail down her jaw, her hands moving down her body with purpose. She grips her hips hard enough to move the older woman against her as she easily slots one of her thighs between her legs, giving her the perfect surface to grind against.

"You're so quiet, 'Tasha," the witch teases, unable to stop her flourishing dominant side for rearing its head.

Natasha knows she's allowing herself to slip. That she shouldn't be letting her guard down like this. Shouldn't be giving Wanda this much control over her.

It's not like she can help it, though. There's an intensity behind the younger woman's movements that she doesn't want to fight against. She wants to let it consume her until there's nothing left. No trace of her fears or hesitations.

She's not about to admit that any time soon, though. Even as her bucking hips give her away.

"That's because we're in public," she replies, keeping her voice as even as she can. "I can actually control myself unlike some people."

Wanda chuckles, keeping up her slow movements. "That's not what your hips are telling me."

"You're the one moving them," she shoots back.

The witch leans back slightly, a smirk forming on her face and pairing beautifully with her dialated pupils. "Is that so? If I move my hands away, you'll stop trying to hump my leg?"

Without waiting for an answer, she moves her hands away from the redhead's hips, allowing her fingers to trail up her torso toward her chest. She keeps her touch light and teasing, using it to further draw out the other woman's desires.

"That's not fair," Natasha huffs, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink as the attention piles on. "You're the one that started this, you have to finish it."

"But we haven't even started yet, have we? You still have too many clothes on."

Wanda's fingers linger on the strap of Natasha's dress, sliding it down just enough to allow her lips to connect to the exposed skin. She focuses her attention on that spot just enough to make the older woman's hips buck against her.

"Fuck," she groans. "This is so unfair."

"I think it's more than fair. I can feel how much you want me. You're soaked, aren't you?"

Her question is met with another groan, this one in a sightly higher, more desperate, pitch. The witch is right, of course. She's already drenched and all she's done is lazily grind against her thigh.

It's practically impossible to stop her body from responding to her, though. Even without reading her mind, she knows her cues all too well after spending so much sparring with her.

Then again, she's pretty sure she wouldn't mind allowing her to invade her thoughts. Something about the lack of control makes her gush.

The low chuckle Natasha's thought is met with makes her eyes widen in response, her hands coming up to grip the younger woman’s shoulders. “Are you seriously reading my mind right now?”

Wanda knows the redhead is trying to sound intimidating but she’s far too breathless, far too wet against her thigh, for her to feel anything but satisfaction. “I couldn’t help it, your thoughts are so loud.”

The response is exactly what she had been expecting and all she can do is huff. “Don’t make it a habit.”

Her words only make Wanda bolder. With her words, her touch, her unbearable need to make the other woman fall apart just for her. “I thought you wanted me in your mind, ‘Tasha?”

The Widow knows she's been caught. That even if the witch didn't spend much time in her head, she knows how much she loves this. How much she wants this. This back and forth dance that will no doubt end with her on her knees.

And still, she's far too stubborn to admit it.

"Shut up." It's a weak remark but it's the only one she has. The only two words she can coherently form as her hips roll against the hard muscle pressing so insistently against her heat. "If you wanted to talk so much, you should have taken me on a date."

"If you don't like me talking so much, why are you so wet?"

It's infuriating. For every snarky response she can form, Wanda has two more waiting for her. It's like she knows exactly how to work her up, exactly how to meet her where she's at instead of trying to change her. It's more than infuriating, it's...it's sweet. In its own complicated, slightly fucked up way, the witch is being sweet.

Maybe it's that realization that makes her melt. Or maybe she's just too pent up to care anymore. She knows what the answer is, but she ignores it in favor of gripping Wanda's wrist and guiding it between her legs.

"I'd prefer it if you stopped talking and started doing, princess."

The witch's body tenses for a second, almost like her brain is struggling to catch up to reality, but then her fingers are working their way into Natasha's underwear and they both let out twin moans at the feeling.

Instead of taking a moment to tease her, Wanda dives right in, her patience fading with every buck of the older woman's hips. She sinks two fingers into Natasha's aching cunt, barely reminding herself to take it easy. To draw her pleasure out until she's writhing and groaning.

"Is this better for you, 'Tasha?" She asks, her lips making their way to Natasha's neck once more. She knows better than to leave too many marks behind, but she can't help her urges and she sinks her teeth into the side of the older woman's neck.

Natasha's walls clench around her fingers, nails digging into the witch's jacket as sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. She arches her back into her touch, her hips bucking a little too wildly for her taste. It's not like she can help her movements. Not when it feels so good.

"Wanda," she moans, her cheeks heating up as she realizes how desperate she sounds. "Fuck, don't stop."

If Wanda was slightly more sadistic she would push her to beg. As enticing as that sounds, she'd much prefer to show her how good she can make her feel instead.

"I won't," she says as her thumb finds its way onto Natasha's swollen clit. "Not until you fall apart for me. Until you admit how good I make you feel."

Her pride seems like a small price to pay for the pleasure that's turning her brain to mush. She opens her mouth to stroke Wanda's ego some more when the younger woman speeds up her movements, her fingers curling just enough to leave her gasping.

She pushes her hips into her fingers with every thrust, looking far more needy than she ever allows herself to be. "Right there, fuck, feels so good."

Natasha's never really been one for talking during sex, far too accustomed to selfish lovers who don't need her approval to feel like they're doing things right. It's different this time, though. Not just because she genuinly feels good, but because it's so clear that Wanda feels good. That this is what she wants. Touching her, pleasing her, driving her to the brink of madness. The witch has never looked more comfortable, more in her element, than she does right now.

"You gonna cum for me already?" The witch teases, pretending she's not doing everything in her power to make the older woman fall apart. "Here? Where anyone could see you? See how desperate you are for my fingers?"

The slight degradation shouldn't turn her on more, but it does. It makes her head fall back as an incoherent string of curses leave her lips. She knows she should at least feel a little emberrased but she can't. Can't think about anything except Wanda's fingers pistoning in and out of her wet pussy.

"Yes," she replies breathlessly. "I need- need to cum."

Wanda doubles her efforts as soon as she hears Natasha admit how close she is. Her thumb presses down on her twitching clit, rubbing fast circles against it until the Widow's walls are spasming around her fingers. 

"That's it, let go for me, 'Tasha. Make a mess on my fingers."

She doesn't have to be told twice.

The coil in Natasha's stomach snaps almost instantly, leaving her clinging to the witch as the pleasure crashes into her all at once.

Wanda watches her with wide eyes, greedily drinking in every twitch of her face, every desperate sound she can't hold back. She's sure she's never seen anything so breathtaking in her life.

All it does, though, is make her realize how much more she wants. How badly she needs Natasha. How her mind has filled up with fantasies she's not sure she can live without.

After losing everything she's ever had, she has to have the older woman.

That will come later, though, right now, she has more important things to focus on. Like making sure Natasha can walk long enough for them to retire to her room for the night.

* * * * * * *

taglist: @boredandneedfanfics

[impyssadobsessions]

DP x DMC interaction

haha okay so i have an interaction idea for my dmc and dp crossover with Patty and Danny with how they meet. (probably be only for me but hehe >w<) Danny after being stranded in dmc world, is living with Dante and being a part-time employee. They specify part time since he's still a minor. (just by a year and that's not even fully correct just easier to keep same birthday due to time shenanigans... Danny mostly upset because he was a four months away and now he has to wait eight. Not important just thought it be funny for Danny to fuss over it a little.) Dante is off on another gig not long after Danny starts crashing at his place. Danny had just gotten his citizenship started thanks to Morrison, and now settling in. He's borrowing Dante's clothes and cleaning up the place (since its still a mess from last Dante was there despite Lady n Trish having dropped in while he was stuck in underworld ) Imagine Dante actually giving Danny his better clothes, and they're baggy on Danny. Nero and Nico having promise to drop by at the end of the week, tying off loose ends to take Danny in for a bit.

Anyways. So Danny just finding something to do, since he isn't in a school ( and he doubts he will), and the business is slow, so he cleans the place. He gets it looking really nice and clean. That's when Patty drops in, expecting to go give Dante a piece of her mind for not checking in or answering her calls ( she's just worried about the geezer) then is shocked when she walks into the place and its SPOTLESS. And there in the middle of the office is someone in Dante's clothes but clearly not Dante. Which she exclaims in shock. And Danny, being Danny like.. uhh yeah I know. Need me to take a message? Wondering why a girl closer to his age looking for Dante. Did she have a job for them? Patty just shocked but then bombarding Danny with questions, suspicious of him. Which Danny just holding his hands like AHH chill chill =w=''' Then Danny explains the situation. Patty still suspicious if not a bit jealous or at least upset Dante never told her. Danny explaining how its pretty new. That's when someone else comes in fretting with an actual Job request. Immediately distraught when hearing Dante isn't in. Danny saying he can take the shift if its nearby- but the guy not wanting to hear it. Dismissing Danny before even knowing him, crumbling into the floor wailing. That's when Patty jumps in both curious of Danny's ability, while also not wanting anything to discourage going to Devil May Cry for services (pride in Dante's business). Patty convincing the man in almost scary manipulative way. She also insists on accompanying them. Danny learns more about Patty on their way over, she driving him up to the spot. Patty learning a little bit about Danny too. He goes into the infested manor, only to turn out the guy was the reason it was infested having made a deal only to turn tails... on more than one demon. Danny gets roughed up, still trying to get a hang of his limitations and powers here, but still manages to pull off a cool fight- especially if Patty ends up in direct line of fire. He sends all the demons packing. Leaving the asshole who started this mess, who tried not to pay them. Making a fuss about the destruction of the mansion, and how long it had taken Danny, as well as letting the demons get too close to him. (They never touched him) Patty is the one to give the guy hell, as well as scare him into paying Danny with bonus. Mentioning how upset Dante would be learning that he jibbed his son, and how next time a demon be hunting him down he won't be able to call on DMC for help. Danny's a bit shocked but pleasantly so with how fast the guy changes his tune as Patty offers to drive Danny out to get milkshakes, since they just got paid. "We?" "I did the negotiating, so I'll be taking a cut. Dante won't mind. uwu C'mon, I'm going to show you all the best hang outs around town. You're going to love them." Thus starts Danny and Patty hanging out. >w< Patty tries not to show it, but she was very impressed at how Danny handled things. Yeah he's not as cool as Dante, but he had his own flare. Plus he's closer to her age.

I did a doodle on paper too =w=' I was going to do something epic and cool but uh... nothing came to me

also a repost of this so you can get a better look at their designs.

[confused-bi-queer]

AU Fest is coming!!! I'm so excited for it. Both to read everyone's works and to be able to finally get my out.

Sadly, I couldn't finish writing everything of my fic yet, so I'll be dividing it into 10 chapters, but they'll be pretty short. Before it goes out, I'd like to show a few sentences:

LUCY

“I want to make you happy,” he says. I reach for his face, to be able to cup his head and have him lean into me, rely on me, but I grab his arm instead. You already make me happy, I think, but before I say anything, he continues.

And another three sentences from another chapter:

DAVY

Since she’s sitting next to the window, she taps at it, pointing at the scenery in front of her. She pulls me into her, and I have invade her space to be able to look at what she’s referring to, but she pulls me harder. […] It’s the greeniest grass with the best-looking trees, moving in tandem and sync with the wind, and then…

I think young Davy dating Lucy is one of the most adorable characters I have ever written. He talks about Lucy with such a care and admiration. My MalMage heart is so confused.

And I have this other fic I'm working on, and guess what. To no one's surprise, I wrote angst!

SIMON

But Baz started not coming home when he said he would, ditching dinner with me or leaving earlier in the morning, before I woke up. And worse of all, he started lying. Ever since we got together, he hasn’t lied to me. He might have avoided telling me things or he diversed my attention, but he didn't lie. Work is a difficult thing but I don’t see how being a teacher of children can be so difficult. My jealousy increased when I thought he might be cheating on me.

He's not, though! This fic is ending me because I thought it would be lighter and happier, and then I had to make SnowBaz co-dependent and angst was bound to come.

I'm still burnt out, but I'm still standing. My notes at school were amazing, and I'm thriving with new projects, but I need some sleep and to stop being sick. I'm starting my last semester of uni and I'm scared. I do not want to graduate. Or start school by being sick. Jesus.

Anyway, hellos and tagging under the cut:

@martsonmars @valeffelees @cutestkilla @fiend-for-culture @roomwithanopenfire

@drowninginships @forabeatofadrum @onepintobean @whogaveyoupermission @thewholelemon

@fatalfangirl @facewithoutheart @artsyunderstudy @ic3que3n @johnwgrey

@noblecorgi @orange-peony @lovelettersto-mars @emeryhall @hushed-chorus

@monbons @pato-roldnart @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @mooncello

@alexalexinii @rimeswithpurple @blackberrysummerblog @theearlgreymage @larkral

@imagineacoolusername @palimpsessed @ileadacharmedlife @stitchy-queerista @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

@wellbelesbian @j-trow-95 @letraspal

[everdeensworld]

Heyy. Valentine's prompt #5 please. Eddie Diaz comes back to see reader girlfriend being flirted with.

prompt; #5 when character A goes to the bathroom someone tries to flirt with reader and character A comes back and is fuming.

content warning: men, misogyny and derogatory remarks.

prompt list

eddie wasn’t a jealous person, not whilst in his relationship anyway, he was confident that he was wanted, of-course the worry of cheating is normal in any kind of relationship.

but he never really got jealous, especially not of sweaty men in restaurants trying to pick up very clearly taken women on valentine’s day of all days.

his fists clenched watching as you reeled back from the man, who continued to push in your boundaries, he was angry, fuming even, at this guy for making you so uncomfortable.

sauntering his way over he slides himself into the booth meant for two, swiftly placing his arm over your shoulder, giving the man a glare.

“oh shit sorry man!” the drunken man slurred at eddie, giving him a wink. “didn’t know she was taken, keep her on a tight leash that one, she’s a looker.”

eddie could feel his blood boiling hearing how the man spoke about you, the way you self consciously covered up your chest with your black cardigan, gripping his hand for comfort.

running his hand across your knuckles he rolls his eyes when the man leaves, turning to look at you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, a gentle gesture. “are you alright? i shouldn’t have left you alone so long, wanna leave?”

you nod quickly, thankful, not feeling too good about staying here knowing that the man was still in the building, “let’s go to my place, light some candles, order a chinese, pop open some wine?” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

you let out a chuckle, shaking your head “that does sound lovely, and so much cheaper, the drinks here cost more than my purse.”

eddie chuckled, grabbing your hand, helping you out of the booth, on the way out though, the man is stood outside smoking a cigarette, smirking.

“oh don’t tell me you’re leaving because of me, man, if you’re insecure and can’t handle all of that, please, hand her over to me, i’ll show her what a real man can do.” he taunted, coughing a little from the cigarette.

you scrunch up your nose in disgust, as does eddie, who was seeing red, before you can even blink, eddie has the drunk slammed into the wall, a violent look on his eye.

“you pathetic piece of shit.” eddie snarled out at the man. “hitting on women who are young, taken, making disgusting remarks, you’re on your own on valentine’s day, you couldn’t be of any use to her, you wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if there was one begging you to touch her.”

the man whimpered shaking his head. “i’m so sorry man, it was just a joke, let me go!”

eddie loosened his grip, before slamming him back into the wall again. “apologise to her.” eddie demanded, the drunk looked over your boyfriends shoulder at your slightly stunned face, whimpering out an apology, “please, i’m sorry, forgive me, i’m disgusting ill admit it. i— i’m sorry.”

eddie seems satisfied and lets him go, before he can say anything the drunken man is scurrying off, nearly stumbling into oncoming traffic, you shove your hands in your pockets as eddie approached.

“i’m sorry about that, i couldn’t let him think he was winning.” eddie sighed, grabbing your hands. “you still on for our candlelit dinner with wine and chinese food?”

your lips twitch and you nod. “of-course i am, silly.” you lean up and kiss his cheek softly, running your hand through his hair. “that was really hot.”

[worstqueerbaittournament]

Submission message for Klance: howdy, would like to submit keith and lance from voltron (lmao)

Submission message for Bechloe: Beca and Chloe from Pitch Perfect (mainly Beca but Bechloe was the ship they baited the most)

Additional propaganda Klance: Now Keith and Lance on the other hand was a whole fucking mess that they then shoehorned in an hetero romance to try and "fix it" but by lord it was bad, everything about voltron is so fucking bad

Anyway this is my Klance propaganda : They were actually bait

Klance's queer baiting by the team was the worst!! We had to deal with NETFLIX ALSO GETTING IN ON THE QUEER BAITING!! If you searched up Kkance during the times for season 6-8, the SHOW WOULD POP UP. The directors would make jokes about it being canon, even Lance's VA got in the joke!

Their queer baiting was the worst for anyone who was even looking for an ounce of queer rep in that show. The only queer rep we got was a man who died after not even 5 minutes on screen, and shoehorned in the credit scene of a gay wedding of a character that was neither Keith nor Lance.

I do not know Agatha and Sophie, so I can't argue that klance was bigger bait or not, I just know voltron was mean lmao. the creators said stuff like "lance will be someone's first choice!" (meaning NOT ending up in a relationship with allura bc she very much chose another guy over him) and heavily implying he would be Keith's 1st choice (or a guy in general bc of point number 2). point number 2: they also released official art showing how super cool and diverse the main cast was! race! gender! LGBT - they had shiro (who was......canon gay but that's a whole other can of worms) and lance hold the sign with LGBT on it and then did absolutely nothing with that w lance at all (he hit on allura, so obvi he's not gay, but at least bi or smt) (UNLESS you count the scenes where he's flirty with keith). I just remember going into the last few seasons being like "klance probably won't be happen be honest with yourself there's like no queer kids shows!! but damn like it so could tho!!! because of how much it's been teased both in the show and by showrunners like I can't have no hope with the way the producers talk about it!" lmao I should have had no hope, but i genuinkey believed there was a possibility it could happen. and actually I discovered after the fact that i think one of the writers for the show who was the main advocate for klance (they had a lot of diff writers for eps, which led to lots of character butchering but ANYWAY) left not terribly long into the show I believe bc he didn't like the direction it was moving in and didn't want to be tied to the show anymore. so it's not like fans just made klance up either - it was written into earlier episodes with the hope and plan to continue developing later, and then just nothing ever happened with it besides INTENSE teasing it to keep queer fans around. esp after shiro's relationship was literally only a flashback and then his fiance thing or whatever got blown up before we even got to watch him interact w shiro as we knew him in present time in s7, so I think they kept being like hmmm klance and the stuff about lance being a first choice before s8 to keep ppl around. also esp bc klancers made up such a big portion of the fan base. then they made a horrible szn and ended it w a flashforward to shiro marrying some random background character who maybe had 1 line? I just remember hitting the flashforward and being like uhhhh who is this dude??? but they did that to hit those diversity points wow first gay marriage in a cartoon or smt idk it doesn't count to me really. so anyway voltron in general is queerbait lol but klance is because it started out as a legit possibility and then they said sike! but only maybe sike bc u guys are mad at us burying our guys in s7 so maybe klance could still happen haha okay now we're serious no it's not happening. anyway I think klance is p bad queerbait and a vote for them is a valid vote, not just u liking the ship.

Here is my really boring and incredibly dry argument for #KLANCESWEEP:

There are countless examples of the Voltron showrunners queerbaiting when it comes to Klance. I will leave that argument and discussion to others. Instead, I would like to focus on why/how I believe Klance is the more significant instance of queerbaiting, despite Johnlock's queerbaiting being markedly more famous.

Queerbaiting is when a shows teases/hints at a character(s) being queer, but then never actually follows through on making the character LGBTQ+. Queerbaiting is, above all, a marketing technique; the show dangles the possibility of a queer romance in order to "bait"  a queer/ally audience into watching, and then continues to dangle or drag out the possibility of a same-sex romance in order to keep their audience hooked and continuously profited off. Queerbaiting takes advantage of peoples' hope and optimism, and that's why the betrayal stings so deeply once the queerbaiting is realized.

I argue that one of the major components of queerbaiting is that the show/writers must never explicitly confirm that there will NOT be queer romance. Queerbaiting is only sustained so long as the illusion of possibility persists.

Now, there are plenty of nuances to this.

If a showrunner comes out and explicitly states that there will be no queer representation in the show, this statement alone does not absolve the show of any queerbaiting it previously did. But, it DOES blur the lines for what can reasonably be defined as "actual" versus "willful" queerbaiting and subtext in the show going forward.

okay let me drop the pseudo-academic tone and just put it bluntly. what i'm trying to say is that, if a showrunner explicitly says "NO GAY ROMANCE," but the show's audience continues to insist and read for gay subtext anyway, and then the audience feels betrayed when the show ends with no queer romance --- at a certain point, wouldn't you argue that it's the fans that are actually baiting themselves, and not the show itself? this is what i mean by "willful" subtext.

As early as 2010 (this article/interview was posted the day of the first episode), the Sherlock showrunners explicitly stated that there would be no romantic relationship between Sherlock and Watson. Between 2010 and 2016, the showrunners repeatedly stated in multiple interviews that Johnlock would never happen.

I am 100% aware that I was drinking nothing but Kool-Aid while Voltron aired. I absolutely baited myself with desperate hope each season. But, in my weak defense, the flames of my Klance delusions were very much flamed by the promises made by the Voltron showrunners, who repeatedly floated the promise of queer representation in the show and spoke about Klance in the same breath. Klancers didn't bait themselves out of thin air; they desperately clung to the rope the Voltron writers threw us, and we were pulled in: hook, line, and sinker.

-

TLDR:

Queerbaiting involves willful deception and deliberate misinformation on the part of a showrunner/show.

If a showrunner encourages a queer ship, or makes vague promises of queer representation, then it reasonable for the show's audience to assume that a queer romance will happen. When a queer romance does not happen, this is clear-cut queerbaiting.

But if a showrunner explicitly states that a show will not have a major queer romance, then the show's audience should reasonably assume that the show will not have the queer ship they favor. If shippers continue to insist that their ship will come to fruition, and continue to pin their hopes on their ship, then the lines between who is actually baiting whom become very blurred.

Johnlock fans knew going into the show that John and Sherlock would never have an explicitly queer relationship. Fans continued to read for subtext, and maintained hope. The lines of queerbaiting become blurred, as it was not entirely clear if the show was actually baiting its shippers, or if fans were the ones baiting themselves.

In contrast, Klance fans were repeatedly encouraged by the showrunners, Netflix's marketing, and to some extent the VAs that Klance was possible (and that queer representation would firmly happen), and so Klance shippers were repeatedly strung along each season, up until the final season when Lance and Allura started dating and the Klance ship was torpedoed once and for all. (Do not talk to me about post-canon Klance, I am willfully defiant.) This is a firmly clear-cut case of queerbaiting.

In summary, Klance is the more textbook case of queerbaiting. It matches all the elements of queerbaiting: there was the willful deception by the showrunners, which encouraged Klance shippers specifically to hang onto the show, allowing Voltron to profit off its Klance audience. It's true that Klance shippers also continuously baited and deluded ourselves; but in our defense, we were following the example and promises set by the show itself.

Additional propaganda Bechloe: Ok for a little propaganda, since you may have forgotten pitch perfect, I want you all to know I first saw it as a 16-17 year old at gay youth group and can you imagine my fucking surprise and bafflement when they werent lesbians. Like basically thru the whole movie I was like “fun lesbian film nothing out of place just waiting for them to actually be gay” I know this was mostly the youth group organizers fault but I still think pitch perfect should have to answer for their crimes

I could talk so much about this but I want to point specifically to this promo for pitch perfect 3:

Bechloe - Pitch Perfect 3 Promo

Bechloe is REAL!

YouTube

and they then proceeded to give chloe an absolutely godawful love interest and like really overdid it (they also tried to give beca one too but anna kendrick was having NONE of that)

IIRC, Beca and Chloe were supposed to be lesbians but Universal vetoed it and made them give Beca a male love interest. Whether that changes things is up to you.

Even more Klance propaganda under the cut:

@klanced pretty well summarizes why Voltron was *more* queerbaity, but I think we should also consider what it means to be *worse.*

Make no mistake, the Sherlock team was.... for lack of a better term.... almost gaslight-y in their press, by disregarding the subtext that they themselves had written. But they were consistent. And their messages as showrunners did bear through, even as they were being cruel. Most importantly, Sherlock never needed the people they were baiting, so they could act aloof. That distance was horrible, but nothing like Voltron.

The relationship between Voltron and its fans was toxic, parasitic. Voltron couldn't have stayed around for that long without dragging its queer-baited audience behind it. It was a Netflix show, and those are always so close to the hangman's axe. It was the online fervor that sustained it.

And so, they had to appease the fans, pay the piper. But they had their own ideas for how the story would bear out, and each creator wanted something differently. In the end, they consistently used marketing tactics to imply something that could have been possible, if not for distinct creative voices that instead weakened the queer stories until they were watery piss.

Anyway, this was rambling. Vote Voltron for dangling queer alignment and ambiguity. Vote Voltron for pretending to be an ally. Vote Voltron for the stupid fucking LGBTQ banner that has Lance on it. Johnlock hurt, in a distant way, but Klance was worse.

I actually said this earlier on a different post, but I'll say it here too:

Its completely reasonable to think Klance was originally planned. Their interactions in the early seasons seemed a little too romantically coded to be something completely made up by fans. Thats why Klance was so popular, because it seemed all too possible.

However, when Dreamworks forced the creative team to change the story in order to keep Shiro alive instead of permanently killing him off like they originally planned, their entire story got fucked over. Seasons 3 and 4 were too far into production to stop and completely redo them, it would have been too expensive, even though it was the logical course of action. Instead, the producers had to make serious last minute changes to the story in order to keep Shiro in the picture. As a result, Shiro and Keith's switched places in the show, and Keith was almost completely written out of seasons 4-6 because Shiro was never supposed to be there. Any and all possible plans for any sort of development between Keith and Lance were thrown out the window because Keith wasn't there.

But as previously said, Voltron wouldn't have survived until the end without the rabid and feral online Klance fandom. The writing was very rapidly going to shit because there wasn't enough time to properly rewrite seasons 3 and 4 in order to meet Dreamworks' demands, and every season that followed suffered because of the decisions made for seasons 3 and 4. Everything was being improvised, and the storyboards for season 8 weren't finished until MARCH 2018 because of how behind schedule they were.

(I feel like the creative team don't get enough credit. Sure the show was a MASSIVE flop but their working conditions were less then ideal. Its impressive they got anything done on time due to the constantly changing ideas.)

The VLD producers knew that the Klance fandom was the only thing keeping the show alive, and continued to use Klance as bait until the very end. The VLD producers willingly enabled the notoriously toxic and violent Klance fandom with thumbnails and HotTopic merch, and allowed it to reach a point that the lives of their cast and crew were being threatenedby the rabid Klance fandom, just to get the ratings they needed to stay afloat.

THATS the disgusting part of all this. Whether Klance was originally planned as endgame or not, the producers used its popularity to keeping their already declining show running at the expense of the safety of their cast and crew.

I know next to nothing about BBC's Sherlock and Johnlock and whatever, but what the VLD producers did was sinister. Putting their creative team through both production and online HELL for some ratings, and it blew up in the most humiliating way possible. They did alllllll that, just to get one of the worst endings to an animated series of all time. Literally everyone hates them for what Voltron became, putting the lives of their creative team in danger was for nothing.

And obviously the producers can't completely blamed for the show's outcome, Dreamworks ruined their original plans. But continuing to use Klance as a marketing tactic while your fans are getting out of control and your creative team is being put in danger is just appalling. It was in their power to tell the Klance fandom Klance wasn't endgame, and that probably would have quelled the fire, but instead, with every season, they threw more and more gasoline into the dumpster fire.

So if you haven't already, vote Klance in this poll.

(I'm linking my source for all this info here. Its a video essay that I totally recommend watching. Super duper interesting.)

[markleessodalite]

Empty: p.js

content: you bring your bf!jisung to dinner with your parents, which ends up going horribly wrong (yet exactly how he expected). fem!reader x idol!jisung

warnings: lots of arguing, y/n has lots of family issues (particularly mommy issues), very moody jisung, y/n is kind of lowk not that smart, not a heartwarming moment at any point in this lol

wc: 2.4k

a/n: this kind of fic is pretty out of the realm of what i usually enjoy writing (angst and over 1k words lol) but after watching a particular show for the gazillionth time i was inspired to write this (try and guess what show to get nothing)

You fidget with the hem of your skirt before lacing your fingers together in your lap, forcing a smile as you make awkward eye contact with the sour frown worn by your mother. Her eyes move to the floor as she takes a sip of her wine. You look to your father, who returns an equally forced and awkward smile to you. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here any second…” you try to brush off the rigidness of the moment, this setting, the same rigidness you’ve always felt growing up in this rigid house with your rigid parents, but the slight tremble in your voice gives your concern away. Jisung was supposed to meet you at your parents’ house tonight to meet them for the first time– after you begged him for hours on end until he reluctantly agreed. 

He had heard plenty of horror stories straight from your own mouth about how cold and unforgiving your parents were. How they never uttered a kind word to you, or placed a comforting hand on you. Rarely looked at you unless they were scolding you for not sitting properly or for talking too much or laughing too loud. Jisung’s jaw was on the floor when you told him that you couldn’t even recognize your father until you were 8 years old because he was always at work or in his home office, and you could only recognize your mother out of fear instinct. You told him how they were ashamed when you couldn’t hack it at your expensive private high school, disappointed when you graduated from a trade school instead of an ivy league university, and how any success you experience that you share with them is met with condescending confusion and passive-aggressive comments about your wasted potential. 

So Jisung was more than completely lost when you insisted that he come with you to dinner at your parents’ house. But after you explained that they’re still your parents, and this was important to you, and so on and so on, he promised you he’d be there. 

But he didn’t mention that he would be an hour late. 

Surely he remembered you warning him about how easy it is to leave a bad impression on your incredibly high-strung parents, right? You told him the exact time he’d be expected there, and even watched as he set a reminder on his phone. 

Your father looks out the window, the white blankets of snow seeming a lot warmer than the stiff couch you were sitting on. “He’s probably stuck in this awful weather. I swear, it snows the tiniest bit and suddenly everyone in the area forgets how to drive.” 

“A little bit of traffic wouldn’t cause anyone with a working brain to be an hour late.” Your mother sets her wine down, the clink of the glass on the coaster making you wince. 

“I’m sure he’s rushing to get here, mom.” You rummage through your purse, looking for your phone. “Maybe I should call–” 

“Do not call him, y/n,” your mother scolds you, “if he is driving, you should not distract him with a phone call. It’s dangerous.”

“Sorry.” You place your hands back in your lap. You then remember that he’s taking the subway anyway, so you could call him if you wanted to. But you decide it’s not worth trying to correct your mother.

“Honey, I’m starving.” Your father pours himself another glass of wine.

“We are not eating until y/n’s guest arrives, that’s rude.”

“He’s already an hour late, so I’ve already been hungry for an hour more than necessary.”

“We do not begin eating a meal before the guest arrives, dear.” 

“Well I certainly don’t want to wait another hour!”

You ignore your parents bickering and pull out your phone, just to double check if Jisung texted you or tried to call, but it's just the same vague message he sent before.

Practice ran long, frustrating day, might be late

Just as you toss your phone onto the couch, you hear the doorbell. You ignore your father’s muttering and your mother scolding you for rushing to answer (apparently, a lady never rushes). 

You open the door to see your boyfriend, although you almost don’t recognize him with the deep eyebags and uncharacteristic frown he’s sporting.

“Ji? What’s wrong, are you okay?” 

“I just wanna get this over with.” He walks past you without another word, or even a glance in your direction. 

After you get over a few seconds of being stunned by your boyfriend’s behavior, you shut the door and walk with him towards the living room. “Jisung, what’s wrong, honey?” No response. You lace your arm in his, which is usually a surefire way to get a smile from him. But now, nothing.

“Ji.” You pull him against the wall before your parents spot you. “I know you had a bad day, and I’m sorry about that, but just… take a deep breath and refocus, okay baby? Because you definitely can’t meet my parents looking this pouty.” 

Jisung sighs, then plasters a lazy, disingenuous smile on his face. “Okay.”

~~~

After uncomfortable introductions and Jisung offering an apathetic apology for his tardiness, you were sat at the dinner table across from your boyfriend, who clearly would rather be anywhere else right now and was too exhausted to hide it.

“So, Jisung,” your father breaks the ice, “y/n says that you’re a dancer.”

“No, dad, I said he’s an idol.”

Your father just stares at you.

“He’s an idol, he’s not just a dancer.”

He keeps staring at you, now furrowing his brows as if you’re speaking a foreign language. 

“So he also sings, and raps, and goes on tours and a whole bunch of other stuff, dad.” 

“I do dance, though. So I can be considered a dancer.” Jisung finally contributes, although it feels more like he’s correcting you than chatting with your father. 

“That’s nice. I’ve always admired dancers. I, for one, don’t have a rhythmic bone in my body.” Your father laughs at himself. 

“Well, it's nice for a hobby.” Your mother’s fork scrapes across her plate, and you see Jisung’s eye twitch at the grating noise. “So what are your career plans?”

Jisung looks over at you, silently pleading for your help. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“You do have a career in mind, don’t you?”

“Mom–”

“Well, my idol career is going pretty great, and I don’t see it ending anytime soon.” Jisung tries to smile, but it bounces off your mother’s tight-lipped grimace. 

“Yes, but dancing–” she says the word as if it's a vulgar swear– “isn’t really a career. Surely you have an actual prospect lined up.”

“Mom, we just had this conversation. He does a lot more than dance, it's not just a hobby.” 

“Does he make decent money?”

You look at Jisung, noticing how he’s consciously refraining from rolling his eyes. “Yes, he does, and that is a totally inappropriate question, mother.” 

“It certainly is an appropriate question, y/n,” your father scolds you, “if this man is intending to be serious with you, then we must make sure he is good enough for you.” 

“Good enough?” Jisung echoes your father, not breaking eye contact with you.

“It's no offense to you, Jisung, you understand. She’s our daughter, it's our duty to ensure she has a stable, comfortable life.”

“And that’s worked out well up to this point, hasn’t it?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, completely shocked at the sarcasm dripping from Jisung’s voice.

“Well we certainly tried, but she was never exactly receptive.” Your mother’s tone is just as condescending as ever, but you’re too busy staring at your boyfriend in disbelief to notice. “We gave her everything she needed growing up, yet still, she was always getting into trouble. Staying out past curfew, skipping school with those hoodlum friends of hers, bringing home substandard boys…”

“Mom.”

“Clearly that hasn’t changed.”

“Mom! Stop!”

“Substandard. Wow.” Jisung laughs under his breath. 

“Oh, excuse me one moment–” your father rushes to answer the phone ringing in his study– “I need to take this call.”

“How could you make a comment like that, mom? You don’t even know Jisung!”

“I know your type, y/n.”

“You know him? You asked him a single question, refused to understand his answer, and you somehow decided that you don’t like him? You know nothing about him!”

“I don’t need to, I know you. You always go for these types, boys who have no manners, don’t know how to have a conversation, and haven’t put a single thought into their future.”

“That is not anything like Jisung!”

“Isn’t it? He shows up an hour late with no warning or explanation, he sits there pouting as if he doesn’t even want to be here, and he lets you do all the talking for him, when he’s not muttering to himself like a moody child.”

“It's been, like, 10 minutes, and you’ve already decided you don’t like him. I think that’s a record, even for you, mom.” 

“Honestly, y/n. Don’t you see how this is embarrassing for us? For our daughter to keep making mistake after mistake, constantly making a fool of herself, acting as if she’s had no discipline her entire life?” 

You turn to look at Jisung, and that’s when you finally realized he snuck away at some point unnoticed. “Mom, I don’t care. I’m leaving.” 

“For once, y/n, you should think about how your decisions make your father and I look!”

You ignore your mother’s ranting as you gather your coat and purse, walking out the front door without a goodbye. You step into the driveway to see Jisung, leaning against the hood of your car, hands in his jacket pockets, snow melting into his hair. 

You approach him, rubbing his arm gently, but it elicits no response from him. 

“I’m so sorry, Ji. I hate that they treated you that way.”

He looks you in the eye, but doesn’t say a word. His eyes meet the ground again.

“I really… I don’t know. I thought after all these years, after them always trying to decide things for me, and me always going against it, I thought they could finally see something good happen to me and just… be happy for me, you know?”

He still doesn’t say anything. Just nods, so little you almost miss it. 

“I really am sorry. I had no idea they would do that to you–”

“Oh come on, y/n, yes you did!” Jisung tears your hand from his arm, moving away to stand tall next to your parents’ tacky topiaries. “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid dinner, but you insisted, and you just let them treat me like I was too dirty to even enter their house or something!” 

You stand still, your legs feeling like they’re made of lead. “Why are you yelling at me? It's not like its my fault–”

“It is your fault! God, just think for a second, y/n! You were the one warning me about how horrible your parents are and how they’d never accept me, you can’t act shocked when they behave the exact way you knew they would.” He runs a hand through his hair, now refusing to even look in your direction, or at anything other than the asphalt under his feet. “And I told you that I would probably be tired after practice today anyway, but you still made me come here. And I had a really shitty day, practice ran late because of me being an idiot and not getting the choreography, and then I had to rush in the stupid snow to get here and listen to two people I don’t even like tell me how inadequate I am. As if I didn’t already know that.”

“Jisung–” 

“I think I’m gonna stay at my parents’ house tonight.”

You cross your arms, trying to swallow back the sobs that were forming in your throat. “You’re not coming home?”

He shakes his head. “No. I don’t really wanna face you right now. I don’t wanna face the guys either after I ruined their days too. I just need to be alone I think.” He finally looks at you, his jaw tight, eyes glossy. “Can I leave now?”

You nod, which shakes a few tears loose from your eyes, but Jisung turns around too fast to notice.

“Ji, let me give you a ride, its freezing.”

“Its fine. I survived taking the subway here, I can do it again.” He calls back to you, without even turning to look at you. You just stare at his back as he walks off, his steps looking heavy on the icy sidewalk. 

You hear the front door open behind you. “He’s leaving?” Your mother’s voice has never sounded so ugly to your ears. “He throws a fit and leaves. How fitting you would find a boy so similar to yourself.” 

Before you can retort, she hands you your phone, which you didn’t realize you had left on the couch in your rush out the door. “You better get going, the snow is going to get worse. I’ll tell your father goodbye for you.” 

Your phone feels like a brick loosely held in your hand, now freezing from the gentle attacks of snow flurries. Your mother shuts the door while you watch Jisung’s shadow walk further and further out of reach. You climb into your car, adjusting the hem of your skirt as you sit in the driver's seat, noticing just how empty it feels without Jisung in the passenger seat. How empty your home is going to feel when you enter without him. How empty your bed will feel when you try to sleep without him. How empty the home you grew up in always was, no matter how many people were in there. How the night you met Jisung at your friend’s house party, and you talked in the empty backyard alone for hours and hours, was the first time in your life you didn’t really feel empty anymore. 

Your mouth feels dry. You grab the water bottle in your cup holder, but it's empty. As you drive the long way home, you contemplate if you should make a stop to buy some water or just wait until you get there, when you spot Jisung walking down into the subway. His posture exhausted, his expression completely empty.

[damn-stark]

Dae-ho tic where him and reader always sabotage each others relationships/talking stages with other people because they want each other but are afraid to say it

4 attempts

Kang Dae-ho (player 388) x fem!reader

A/N- I giggled writing this!

Warning- Angst and fluff!!

————

1st attempt-

This first sabotage was as simple as breathing. Maybe Dae-ho is being cocky, or your possible boyfriend was insecure, but it truly was a simple task. Dae-ho happened to catch that you were going to hang out at your house and he came stumbling by at your door.

“Dae-ho,” you stammer with surprise as you see him outside your door.

Said man smiles his charming smile and holds your gaze. “Hey, sorry for not calling beforehand but I was in the neighborhood and I had this,” he says as he shows off one of your favorite desserts, replacing your annoyance with temptation.

“You’re not going out right?” He follows his comment with a question he knows the answer to.

“No, but I have someone over. A date. Potential boyfriend,” you reveal, but it doesn’t bring him any surprise, he pretends to be shocked but he knows that too.

“Well I am your best friend,” he points out. “I need to meet him anyway. What harm can it bring?”

You contemplate his comment and also glance at the bag in his hand as if that delicious dessert is what is winning you over, but the truth is a part of you is relieved he’s here, interrupting this moment. You don’t let yourself accept that but you are and that part of yourself that is steps back to open the door wider so he may walk in.

When you close the door behind him your date interjects with a question as he walks over. “Who was it?”

When he makes it to the entrance of the house he comes to a sudden halt and straightens up as he sees Dae-ho at your side with a small smile that was too smug rather than friendly.

“Kang Dae-ho, her best friend,” he introduces himself and then gets closer to your date to offer him his hand.

Your date glances at his hand with his breath caught in his throat and then looks over at you with uncertainty before drawing out a deep breath and taking Dae-ho’s hand without meeting his eye.

“I am sorry for intruding,” Dae-ho doesn’t fail to be respectful as he makes himself at home right away and walks to the dining table to set his stuff down. “But I was in the neighborhood and bought some of her favorite dessert and well what friend would I be if I didn’t share?” Dae-ho says as you quickly join him while your date follows behind slowly, catching your eagerness that you failed to show him.

“However, I am sorry that I didn’t bring you any. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” your date quickly assures him as he finally reaches the table.

Dae-ho flashes him a faint smile before he reaches in the bag and pulls out a small box and napkin and hands it to you. He doesn’t finish there though, he pulls out a drink kept inside the bag and as if expecting it, you take it without so much as looking, letting your date know for certain what he needs to do.

So by morning, just as Dae-ho wanted, your date cut all communication with you with a blunt text.

——

2nd attempt-

Failing is hardly something you did. Sure you do fail from time to time, you are only human, but it’s not something you let slide often, but today…today was one of those days. You failed horribly.

“You’re his best friend, you know him more than anyone could so tell me honestly what he's like,” Dae-ho’s date tries to interrogate you out of genuine curiosity. With no ill intent. You recognize that with the way she carries herself, the way she acts, and the way she looks at him with genuine interest and affection. Maybe that’s what makes you fail or maybe it’s what she says next

”I really like him,” she says. “I just want to know if I'm wasting my time and getting my hopes up to later get them crushed.”

Your stomach twists and irritation rushes through your veins. You don’t even take time to question yourself if you want to shatter her feelings and stomp on her illusions, that irritation takes over before you know it.

“He may be my friend but,” you pause and take a step closer to her. “I have to be honest because no one else will,” you speak with a honey-laced voice. “He’s not particularly loyal. It may seem like that now but in a couple weeks he will be texting other girls. It happened last time.”

The girl’s lashes bat as she deals with the disappoint you just hit her with and steps away as she ducks her head.

“If only I warned you before you came,” you say as you reach over and pat her hand. “Just don’t tell him I told you so.”

You finish with a sweet smile and stroke her hand before you walk out a bit too overzealous, but how could you not be?

You might have failed at containing your…burning feelings, but what you told Dae-ho’s date worked because by the next day she asked him out for coffee and ended things with him.

——

3rd attempt-

Maybe it’s the men you date, or maybe men in particular happen to be more jealous than women but don’t dare to admit it. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Dae-ho stepping over the line. Again.

Whether he meant to or not it didn’t matter. You were at the concert of your favorite artist and Dae-ho happened to be there too. It was on purpose, he happened to like that artist too so why would he miss it?

Now you were at two separate sides of the stadium, but when it came down to it, when you were drunk off the excitement, Dae-ho made his way to you and there was no stopping either of you now.

You both sang at the top of your lungs, jumped, and danced like no one was watching when someone was. Your boyfriend. He was next to you, but with Dae-ho there and stepping over the line, singing with you, and dancing too close for comfort, it’s like your boyfriend didn’t exist. He didn’t even feel like a third wheel because he felt invisible.

Or you just didn’t care about him when it came to Dae-ho. Maybe Dae-ho is all you need. He’s all you care about—no, he’s the one person you care about most in this world so no one else can even be at his level.

It was easy to see, and it was even more obvious that Dae-ho recuperated those feelings with the way he looked at you so affectionately and beamed at you so brightly. He laughs at the little things you say and can never keep his eyes off you; it’s like he’s making sure nothing or no one causes you any harm.

He may be charming and look like he could not harm a fly, but anyone could see how protective Dae-ho was without having to even bare his teeth.

Yet that’s not what sent your boyfriend fleeing, it was a smaller fact. A gesture that could mean nothing but can also mean the world. You shared a drink. You had finished yours so Dae-ho said you could drink from his cup, and that’s what hurt your boyfriend the most because he looked down at his own cup and it was still halfway full, making it just enough to share with you, but you didn’t even look his way. Not even to ask to buy some more, so when he could, he broke up with you, giving Dae-ho a win.

——

Last attempt-

If things were simple you would be able to accept your feelings. You would be happy with the person you think about the most. The one person you love more than life itself, but here you are, with makeup running down your cheeks in a restaurant after a man you hardly liked confessed to cheating on you.

Maybe you should’ve expected it. It’s karma after what you’ve done to sabotage Dae-ho’s relationship, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.

As to why your boyfriend told you in a restaurant of all places? You don’t know, but it made it worse; knowing all the people are staring, and listening in to the drama that unfolded before them.

Yet your embarrassment is not what sends you fleeing. You could have walked out when you were collected and no longer had makeup staining your cheeks, but you can’t handle the pain, you can’t contain the ball of emotions that keeps growing and makes your throat and eyes burn, so you swiftly grab all your belongings and storm out of the restaurant. In doing so, on your way out, you bump into none other than your best friend Dae-ho.

At first, he didn’t recognize you, but it does hit him once you’re out the door that it was you. So with a quick dismissive comment over his shoulder to his date, he runs after you.

Dae-ho calls out to you as you storm away with your arms wrapped around your body to keep as much warmth as possible on this winter night, but you don’t stop, so without so much as thinking about his date, he runs after you to catch up. Once he’s close enough he grabs your shoulder before you can take another step and turns you around.

When you look him in the eye and realize it’s not your boyfriend but Dae-ho, you break down into a sob. “Dae-ho,” you mewl.

Said man looks at you like he’s been wounded and grabs your shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?” He quickly bombards you with questions.

You sniffle and part your lips. “My boyfriend, he—he.” You can’t even finish what you’re going to say because of how choked up you get, and he doesn’t wait or pester you to finish. He immediately wraps his arms around you and hugs you against him, basking you in his warmth and comfort.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he tries to soothe you as he rubs your back. “You’re going to be okay.”

You let out another shaky sob and grip onto him so he wouldn’t let go. Neither of you proceed to utter a thing, you stand under the falling snow and let the bitterness nip at any exposed skin it can reach.

It’s only once your shoulders stop shaking and Dae-ho’s date is long gone after being forgotten, that you pull away, but he doesn’t let you stray far, he cups your jaw and holds your gaze with tenderness.

“He cheated on me,” you whisper hoarsely, making him sigh with pity.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he strokes your cheeks with the tip of his cold fingers. “He’s an asshole.”

You nod gently and sniffle again. “I don’t even know why I dated him. I didn’t even like him, but I thought maybe…just maybe it would help.”

Dae-ho blinks with confusion and he quickly he follows up on your question. “Help what?”

You avert your gaze and sniffle. Your pause lasts for a moment. It’s only when his hand falls on your shoulder and the other falls at his side that you speak up.

“Forget my feelings for you.”

A cloud of Dae-ho’s breath forms in the space past his lips as he can’t help but gasp.

“I went into that relationship knowing what I felt, but I also know that you don’t feel the same and I can’t possibly live with that so I had to forget, but he…” you trail off and slowly lift your gaze, meeting his bewildered eyes.

“Who,” he stammers and you lose all contact with him as he pulls his hand off your shoulder. “Why…why would you think I don’t have the same feeling you do? I love you,” he admits, stealing your breath and making you feel as if you’re out of this world.

“All this time,” he adds as he watches you work through your disbelief. “I was just…scared that it would ruin us. If I had known—all those dates I’ve been on…” he trails off and grabs your shoulders so you can look him in the eyes as he then continues firmly. “…If it’s true that you feel what I do, tell me and I will stop wasting my time with nobodies.”

You blink in disbelief and your lips part because of the same feelings.

It’s hard to process the fact that he shares the same love you have for him, but that fear of letting him know no longer exists. You’re just hesitant because you’re still caught in disbelief.

“I…I do,” you confess slowly, making him beam at you before he presses his forehead against yours.

“I was going to kiss you, but I think it would be wrong considering…” he doesn’t finish saying but you know he’s referring to your situation.

“Hm,” you hum and grab his face this time to press a light kiss on his lips. “For warmth.” You giggle.

He can’t stop smiling. His smile brightens as he keeps you close with the intention to not let you stray from him anymore.

[loopy777]

What do you think about the take that maiko was written to show that they were dysfunctional and shouldn't be together but the writers made them endgame in the last minute to tidy things up?

I think it's one of the dumbest things I've ever heard. But you were probably expecting that. XD

Let's prove it mathematically. Toph is a main protagonist. Toph has a romance teased with Sokka that doesn't go anywhere. Toph also gets a lesser romantic tease with Zuko. Toph doesn't get an endgame romance. If the storytellers cared about pairing people off for "tidiness," then how could they leave one of the main protagonists single after establishing two different crushes for her? If Zuko needs a romance for "tidiness," why wasn't he paired with Toph? QED.

But that's not as much fun as talking about Maiko. So let's trace the arc and see if it actually looks like a dysfunctional dynamic turned into a positive romance at the last minute.

The only place where Maiko seems even a little dysfunction in The Beach; otherwise, they're almost always getting along and being affectionate with each other and Zuko is always smiling in Mai's presence unless he's thinking about his father or Azula is present and actively trying to ruin their fun. And The Beach portrays the root of their problems being Zuko's self-loathing, not any problem with each other. Sure, Zuko talks about Mai being a "big blah," but he also insults Ty Lee there for walking on her hands, so I think he's just cranky and picking on the girls' most obvious characteristics because he's a bully and misogynist. Once he admits to being angry at himself, he's able to get along with everyone again, especially with Mai and including some characteristically physical affection.

So if the intention was for them to be dysfunctional, that's a huge writing failure. It's not present in the story, which is especially odd if that was the real intention and the Happily Ever After was a last-minute whim. We can't even say that Mai was a bad influence on Zuko, as she literally never influences him in any way at any point in their relationship -- except for one, which will discuss in a moment -- merely supporting whatever it is he thinks he wants at any given second.

And that one moment of influence Mai has? She's part of the group encouraging Zuko to be honest with himself about the source of his anger. And I'm having a hard time figuring out how that's toxic.

As I like to say, if someone is arguing that some other ship would have been written better than Maiko, then no, it wouldn't have been. It would have been written by the same people who are terrible romance storytellers no matter what ship we're talking about. But by all means, if militant Zutarians want their ship written by the geniuses behind Makorra and/or Gene Yang, I think their cluelessness is self-evident and it would be impolite to point out how stupid they are.

Anyway, back to the other half of the allegations, that Maiko happened by accident at the last minute to make things "tidy" even though everyone's story arcs were planned in advance of the season's production.

(I swear, some of these fans act like high-quality animation is the same thing as a low-budget live-action scifi show filmed in chronological order by a cast of drug-addicted actors trapped in Toronto. )

The ending of The Boiling Rock where Mai saves Zuko is a load-bearing plot point. The entire second half of that two-parter is made to build up to it, with scenes between Mai and Zuko showing their continued affection for each other and eroding Mai's commitment to the Fire Nation. Then she betrays the Fire Nation, accomplishing her switch to being a Good Guy, and she gets the confrontation with Azula which starts off the absolutely critical Azula Loses Control character arc which directly leads to her defeat.

And that arc is present in all Azula's appearances after Mai's betrayal. She can't stand on her own when she orders Mai and Ty Lee locked up, the first sign of her waning sense of control. Her voice is raw and emotional when she attacks Zuko at the Western Air Temple, and there's the way she has to unpin her hair to save her own life in a series where the hairdos are highly symbolic. Then in the finale, she explodes at Ozai, her godlike father figure, about her treatment. Before her fight with Zuko, spends an entire episode being paranoid and hallucinatory. All of that is caused by Mai.

If Mai wasn't meant to become a Good Guy, where does Azula's arc come from? If Azula wasn't meant to fall apart like that, where else is her character supposed to be properly explored? Was the entire tone of Zuko's confrontation with his sister supposed to be completely different, and not a contrast in their states of mind that conclusively proves the self-destructive nature of Ozai's Fire Nation culture? The whole back-half of the third season for the Fire Nation characters hinges entirely on Mai's grand romantic gesture of saving Zuko.

If the storytellers planned to do all that, then didn't intend for Mai and Zuko to have a triumphant reunion, I don't know how they can consider themselves professionals.

Unless the theory is that it would have been easier to just stick Ty Lee in Mai's place? But then I don't think Zuko's interactions with Ty Lee were any less toxic, so we're still left lopsided there.

I dunno, I'm a bit freaked out at the lengths some people will go to pretend that the Maiko endgame wasn't a regular part of the story. Do they know it's been 17 years since that first aired?

[justreallybored]

What I think are clues for the next ACOTAR book from ACOSF(besides Koschei being the current big bad):

Elain is misunderstood and every preconceived notion about her will be challenged. (clue: Cassian realizing Nesta was wrong about Elain being a loyal dog; Nesta assuming Elain would faint over a threesome)

Azriel's secret feelings toward Elain will be revealed(and vice versa). (clue: Cassian saying Azriel will talk when he's ready after getting visibly upset after finding out about Elain; he doesn't pine for Mor anymore; charged glance and catching breath between Elain/Az; Nesta saying his secret to tell)

Azriel's shadows/eyes will be "blinded" (clue: The mentions of Elain being abducted and Azriel saved her, not making the same mistakes, Azriel saying the eyes under his command cannot be blinded)

Gwyn will play some role due to her secret powers (clue: Something beneath the pretty face, several mentions of something weird or unexpected Gwyn does and Nesta guessing an explanation for it; power grumbling in response; glowing, singing, beckoning; Azriel and Gwyn interactions show a friendship developing- that being said, I held my breath with every interaction they had, wondering if it would hint as romantic, but imo, they do not, especially with Az and elain sharing a charged glance, breath catching, and Elain quickly looking away and Cassian questioning the reaction)

The river paths that connect the mountains in the different courts will be utilized (clue: the river-hollowed caverns mentioned twice, plus the water-ways being mentioned and creatures would travel between them) *Although this was used in HOFAS so maybe that was just a clue for the crossover?

Elain's powers will be further explored because she wants to help(clue: Elain being willing to use her powers or self for the Night Court, insisting the NC is her home too when Feyre wanted to protect her from Hewn City and Eris; standing up to Nesta during the scrying talk; Nesta thinking Elain is training with Azriel or Nuala and Cerridwen)

Elucien bond will be addressed and probably rejected (clue: They are both uncomfortable around each other; their bond has been questioned since ACOWAR; Lucien seems interested and protective over Vassa; Azriel and Elain show mutual interest in each other; Azriel is protective of Elain)

These are some of the main details that stuck out to me in ACOSF that I think are intentionally left for the next book.

Anyway, I'm a little adhd so hopefully this made sense.

In my mind, with these clues, I think acosf made it pretty clear that Elain will be the next fmc.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Mars in libra ♎️ in fall

So when you see them doing it with someone else it might not be so cute and he had his.. Venus and Mars in Libra even though he is a Virgo and it is disputed whether he’s a Capricorn or Sagittarius moon. I swing more to the side of Capricorn because of virus and things like that and him contracting HIV and then later aids.

Don’t ask me why I just feel like that makes more sense to me. One of them seems to rule the bloodstream I’m pretty sure those two signs. So where did it become a challenger in his life apart from that. the balance within his group. with band mates such as borrowing may and the jealousy between the two. and the rivalry

And also his double life Libra double life it’s her dual sign... and he had a very lonely life where he became close with this man is in the the film by him and rapsody he came close with this man who basically revealed all the dirt on him I think he was meant to actually be one of his lovers and he was really cold hearted... and write all about freddy’s lonely life Freddie was the life and soul of the party but all his friends in the band. Kind of turned their back on him a little bit and he was all on his own anyway at the end of his life he met someone I think his name was Jim and they looked very similar as often gay couples do even more than straight couples. Like Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss. Who. In a magazine they did a whole shoot of them two together like they were a couple and they were all wearing the same clothes in each shirt. And lastly this picture had been a I I’m not too sure but it was still weird but I know for sure they definitely did a magazine shoot together.

. now that’s someone with Sagittarius energy but also strong water energy Taylor Swift and she, is believed to be secretly in the closet and leaving clues in her songs in her clothes etcetera there’s a whole community of people online on TikTok on Spotify on YouTube who believe that Taylor Swift is actually lesbian. And I would not not believe it because I’d believe anything nowadays. And the way she sticks up for women and that and is proud of women I at least think she’s bisexual even though I’m not a Taylor Swift fan I’ve listened to one of her songs and it was amazing they did like this piece on SNL I think it was. Anyway here’s how Mars and Libra can go wrong if you want more detail and you want me to go into more than one person let me know. This Mars in Libra modern labor. When it’s not so good I’m Freddie Mercury had his Venus in Libra as well and I always say these people can be so charming and to be careful with their charm because they will be doing exactly what they’re doing to you to somebody else and that’s that’s what I believe no matter what sign it’s in it will work that way like I said I was going to do Heidi flies the Hollywood madam.

Whitney Houston another person who has a gay title this Mars placement. because in the beginning of her career she was attached to Robin Crawford. a friend of the family but her mum was incredibly homophobic whitney's mum... and she didn’t like Robin at all and the family all made her feel very uncomfortable but she was whitney’s friend and she was the one she was taking to award shows free Bobby.... in fact I think they would have rather her be if a woman beater than her to be happy with someone who treated her right which is really sad for Whitney because at the end of the life of her life she was with Ray J who is either hollywood’s pimp or drug dealer or both I don’t like the way he operates I mean if he works with the Kardashians and other sex tape with Kim that makes enough for me to make me think he’s really shady. and then the balancing act with how this placement can go dark so obviously it’s in the opposite sign of what sign it would be good in which is Aries Aries the God of War Aries Mars Mars the God of War Aries the sign of getting things going and getting on with things.... being straight to the point no sugarcoated unless there’s other pet placements like pisces or possibly Scorpio or Gemini. So yeah at the end of their life she was treated really badly and there’s a picture there’s a video even of the day before or a couple days before she died where she’s talking to the devil Clive Davis himself while he’s with an interview with Brandy and Monica and she hands the... major Brandy which grandy’s never revealed and Brandy is ray J’s older sister... it probably said can you get your brother to get me more drugs or something it was really sad what he did to her and I’ll never forgive him for it... on a Pamela who is so powerful in the industry and their partners career has... dwindled they were popular at one point in time but now their wife has taken over and they have to deal with that emasculating them and The funny thing is that both her. And Whitney both have a partner with their Mars in a water signSo they both had partners,, who were violent with them and then got back with them after the violence and they both gave a lot to the public over the years and have become culturally iconic and popular culture in the industry and in an other way.We love u guys