#there’s a really tight version of the fic that matches up way more with my original plans

[andhumanslovedstories]

New Chapter ft. Bad Coping

[Emotionally devastate a disciple. +50 B-Points.]

[Welcome back to the plot! This System was wondering when the pacing would pick up again.]

“He’ll be fine.”

[Trait: Poison Tongue. You’re never unarmed. In conversations, you have an instinctive sense for the most hurtful thing you could say.]

“Shut up.” Shen Qingqiu was slumped over his desk, his head buried in his arms. He couldn’t stay like this for long. It was too comfortable a position. He couldn’t risk falling asleep. At the same time, wow, his arms sure made a nice pillow.

[Trait: Ambusher. Win the fight before it even starts. Gain a significant bonus on all actions against a currently non-hostile enemy.]

[roosterforme]

Sugar and Lace | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Bradley had a hot wife. He went wild for you in your work clothes and his worn out shirts. You didn't need any bells and whistles to look sexy, and you never would. But now that he knew what you looked like in a little lace, he needed to have that version of you, too.

Warnings: Fluff, adult language, drinking

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time but it can be read on its own! Check out my masterlist

Bradley looked at Jake over his beer, and Jake looked right back at him. The Hard Deck was virtually empty this early on a Saturday in the middle of the blazing summer heatwave, leaving the two of them very much alone together with their drinks.

"So..." Bradley said, tracing a line through the condensation on his half empty bottle. It wasn't that he disliked Jake. Not really. But he didn't know how many times he could be coerced into hanging out with him for the sake of you having a 'girls day'. It wasn't like he could complain about work to the person who annoyed the shit out of him at work yesterday.

"So..." Jake replied, picking up his drink and chugging it before signaling to Penny for two more. When he turned back, he had a smug little smile on his face that let Bradley know he was about to get annoyed again. "I'm assuming by the way your wife looks and how fucking pussy whipped you are that she has good taste in lingerie?"

Bradley sputtered, almost knocking his bottle off the high top. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hangman. What the hell kind of question is that?" He could feel heat rising in his cheeks at the memory of you prancing around the bedroom last weekend in a lacy tie dye bra and matching boy shorts. Everything you wore was sexy.

"That's obviously what they are out shopping for," Jake drawled, handing the empties to Penny as she dropped off fresh beers. Bradley waved two fingers in a half-hearted salute and then glared at Jake as he added, "Jessica specifically asked your wife to go with her. She told me she's picking out some things for the honeymoon, and you and I both know what that means. They are trying on lingerie." His smirk was back. "Together."

Bradley swallowed hard, digging his fist into his thigh. His teeth were clenched as he said, "Stop picturing my wife in lingerie."

All he got was a jovial laugh in response. "Tell me right now to my face that you're not picturing both of them wearing something tight, cropped and lacy, and I'll stop."

Bradley raked his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut against the mental image of you and Jessica in a cute little fitting room, laughing together. "God damn it, Hangman!"

--------------------------------

You and Jessica were crammed into a fitting room together, trying not to laugh at the enormous stacks of cute things to try on. Your pile was on the left side of the decorative bench, and hers was on the right. You knew that Jessica Reed happened to collect lingerie in every color imaginable, but she was on a quest to find some unique things to take on her honeymoon. And you were on a quest to wow your husband with something more than a bra and boy shorts for once. 

Not that he complained. Not that he ever complained. Bradley went absolutely feral for you in your damn work clothes and loafers. He about lost his mind when you wore his ratty, old tie dye tee shirt to bed. He often sounded like he was going to need CPR when you put on his bathrobe and nothing else. It was hard to contain your smile when you just knew that something in this fitting room was going to blow his mind to the point that he would be rendered speechless.

"Try something on," Jessica suggested gently, and you took a step closer to your pile. "Then you'll get a better idea of what you like." 

There was red, green, black, white and pink fabric. There were nightgowns, thongs, bralettes and stockings. When you reached your hand out, you hesitated, confidence wavering. This seemed a lot more challenging than solving a linear algebra matrix.

Jessica whispered, "You'll look beautiful in anything, Advanced Calculus. I can promise you that." When you kind of shrugged in response, she said, "Do you want me to wait in line for my own fitting room so you can have more privacy?"

The two of you already agreed to help each other make selections, and the last thing you wanted was to keep opening the door so everyone else could see you wearing this stuff. "No. It's not that. I just... don't really own anything like this. I mean, I have a few things, but some of this is elaborate." You glanced at her over your shoulder and winced. "And this was supposed to be a shopping trip for you! For your honeymoon! Not for me."

She shushed you and then reached into your pile and pulled out a fairly innocuous looking nightie in a soft champagne color. "Start with this. Then you'll see how hot you look, and it'll be a gateway drug to you starting your own collection that will rival mine."

"I've seen your closet," you muttered, taking the hanger from her and holding the garment up in front of your body. It was pretty. The color even complimented your hair. It was a far cry from what you usually wore to bed, but you'd give it a shot.

When you started to undress, Jessica turned around and played with her phone, which you did appreciate. All of your bumps and lumps would be on display soon enough anyway, but at least you'd have a minute to straighten yourself out. The fabric was cool and slick against your skin, and you shivered as it settled high on your thighs. When you looked in the mirror and turned, you were pleasantly surprised with the result.

"It's not bad," you said, and she looked up and gasped, green eyes wide.

"It's perfect!"

"I wouldn't go that far," you muttered, smoothing your hands along your sides.

"Well, I would. And I'm sure Bradley would, too. Do you want me to take a picture on your phone?" she asked, and you nodded while she posed you with one hand on your hip. "Like I said, perfect," she muttered as she took the photo and then set your phone down again. "Try on something else."

"Okay," you whispered, reaching blindly into your pile and pulling out a black lace corset top.

Jessica jumped up and down and clapped her hands. "I love that one. I picked one up to try it on, too."

"I don't know about this," you said, holding it up in front of the nightie. "Not sure how Beer Boy is going to like it."

"You won't know until you try it on."

With those words of wisdom, you changed from the nightie to the corset, and your immediate thought was how cute this would look under your sweaters and tweed when you were at work. And it would feel amazing. It was snug and sexy, and somehow you felt like you could kick even more ass at work if you were wearing this thing.

"What the hell?" you whispered, and Jessica turned to look at you, clapping her hands once again. "I feel like I have super powers."

"Because you do! Look at you! Please let me take another picture of you to send to Bradley."

This time you posed yourself and turned so your tattoos were visible through the lace cutout on the side. Then you stood there and admired yourself before saying, "I'm definitely buying this. Catch me wearing it to work under my cardigans in the fall."

Jessica started digging into her own pile now as you changed from the corset into a bodysuit, but when she met your eyes in the mirror, she looked like she was going to freak out.

"What?" you asked. "The bodysuit looks that bad?"

She shook her head, and pressed her lips together before almost shouting, "When were you going to tell me you have a math tattoo?"

"Oh," you replied, not sure you'd ever heard her voice reach that octave before. "Euler's Identity? I've had it since I was nineteen."

"I love how you embrace your inner nerd," she said as if she was in awe of you, and you started laughing which made her laugh. "Now send those pictures to your husband and let that man worship you."

--------------------------------

Bradley had just buried his face in his hands while Jake laughed when his phone went off. You hadn't even bothered to inform him that your little 'girls day outing' was a quest to make sure Jake enjoyed his honeymoon with Jessica. Honestly, Bradley kind of hoped the other man was correct in his assessment that you'd be shopping for something for yourself, too. Not that you needed it. Holy shit, you still looked like the girl he fell in love with over a decade ago whenever you wore his old Grateful Dead shirt or his robe around the house.

But now he wanted something special, too. Why should Jake get to have all the fun when it came to having his partner all wrapped up in a pretty package that was specifically meant to be removed?

"Sugar," he grunted when he saw that you'd texted him. Jake was rambling about something across the table, but Bradley couldn't hear him. He could no longer hear anything. He couldn't process thoughts or form words. All he could do was stare at the two photos you'd sent to him. "Oh, fuck."

In the first one, you were wearing a shimmery light gold colored thing that looked soft. Like maybe almost as soft as your skin. His heart hammered up into his ears as he examined every inch of it on your curves. Your nipples were pebbled against the fabric, and he could practically feel them between his lips. When he swiped to look at the second one, he abruptly stood from his stool with his phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes bugging out.

"Let me guess... your wife sent you photos?" Jake asked, clearly amused.

Instead of verbally responding, Bradley made sure his phone was tipped away from Jake as he zoomed in for a closer look. Holy hell. Your tits were being pushed up in the sexiest black lace he had ever seen. It was sinful, and now he was imagining you wearing it under one of your tweed blazers while giving a lecture. He swallowed hard, realizing he could see the tiniest bit of your tattoos through the little cutout on the side, and he actually whimpered.

"Yeah... she definitely sent you photos," Jake murmured as his own phone chimed. "Oh, Jess just sent me five."

"How did you get five?" Bradley complained, swiping back and forth, desperately looking for more. "I only got two!" 

It was then that he noticed you texted him after you sent the pictures.

What do you think, Beer Boy?

Bradley laughed a bit maniacally. What did he think about the lingerie? Ha! He could barely think at all! He paced back and forth a bit, sweating as he wrote back.

You look fucking hot as hell, Sugar. If you don't bring that black top home, I think you'll break my heart.

Bradley cringed, because now Jake was the one who was whimpering. "They're sharing a fitting room," he whispered, and Bradley's eyes went wide with the realization that Jessica must have taken the photos for you. Then his eyes narrowed as he reached for Jake's phone.

"You better not be able to see Sugar in any of the pictures!"

-------------------------------

You and Jessica were wearing matching fluffy robes and sorting through everything you'd already tried on.

"You have to get that thing," you told her, pointing to the garters and stockings. "It fits you like a glove."

She nodded and added it to her 'yes' pile. "And you have to get the thong and bustier," she replied.

"I'm already buying four things," you reminded her. The bustier was nice, and your breasts looked good in it, but you didn't love the color very much. Besides, there was one last thing you hadn't tried on for fear of looking or feeling ridiculous, but there was a part of your brain that just knew your husband would love it.

"Missed one!" Jessica said, pulling on the bright pink fabric like she could read your mind. Always the best cheerleader, she held it up in front of your body and nodded. "It's bold, but I think you can pull it off."

You took it from her, but looked at yourself skeptically in the mirror. "I don't know... it's going to look bad. Like I'm trying too hard. I don't know why I even picked it up."

But you did know. Bradley was attracted to you in that dumb tie dye shirt like you were some sort of exotic bird whenever you put it on. All of the bright colors swirled into something that just lured him right to you. Part of it was nostalgia, sure, but you felt like there was something more as well.

"Actually, I do know why I picked it up," you told Jessica, holding the chemise closer to yourself. "Bradley really likes it when I wear his old shirt that I kind of held hostage for ten years. It's vibrant and bright, and I think this is the sort of thing he might enjoy?" You pursed your lips and sighed. "But, maybe I'm wrong, because he also just seems to like me how I am. No frills, you know? He's always been that way."

Jessica smiled. "Yes, I understand. And I hope you realize that you just described a man who is desperately in love with you, not just how you look. Sounds like the kind of man you should spoil a little bit." She tugged gently on the chemise and added, "This is a far cry from a tee shirt, but you won't know how you feel about it until you try it on."

"You're right."

Once you were out of the robe, you pulled the stretchy lace over your body, and gaped at the deep neckline as Jessica tied the satin ribbons around the back of your neck. You hadn't noticed before, but there were some yellow and orange threads woven in, making delicate swirls in the fabric. Almost like a different kind of tie dye. It actually looked stunning on you, and as you turned from side to side, you already knew you had to have it.

"I'm obsessed," Jessica said, bouncing excitedly as she clapped her hands together. "Should I take one last round of photos for you to send to Bradley?"

-------------------------------

Bradley was lightheaded. He sweat through his shirt, and he had his forehead cradled in his hand as he opened three photos of you wearing something so bright and pink and sexy, he wanted to lick it off of you. Everything was covered up, but barely. In the one shot, he could almost see your ass. In another, he could definitely see your pert nipples. In the other one, he could make out part of your titty tattoos.

It was a good thing Jake was staring at his own phone in amazement, because Bradley was pretty sure he was drooling and incapable of formulating a sentence. He had already written back to you, begging you to buy the pink thing. Telling you he needed it. Letting you know he wanted to peel is slowly off of your body in bed later. In fact, the last thing he sent was 'Buy everything in that whole fucking store, money is no object'. And he meant every word. 

Bradley had been crazy about you for so long, and most of the appeal came from how smart you are and the fact that you weren't fussy. You let him dote on you in your work outfits. You wore his clothing around the house. You didn't need all the bells and whistles to be sexy, and you never would.

But now that he knew exactly what you looked like in black satin and colorful lace, he needed to have that version of you, too. He needed it.

"Since when does your wife have tattoos?"

Those words snapped Bradley out of his lust filled stupor, and his brown eyes bore into Jake's green ones. How did he know about your titty tattoos? When his gaze drifted back to his phone, he turned the screen toward Bradley with a grin. Apparently you had taken a photo of Jessica, in which your reflection was visible in the fitting room mirror. You were wearing a bra, and you were as covered up as you would be for a beach day, but Bradley loathed the idea of Jake having any sort of access to those tattoos.

"Hey!" Jake complained as Bradley snatched the phone and deleted the photo. "What the fuck, Bradshaw? I wanted that picture of Jessica! You could have just cropped it."

"Hey, boys!"

Bradley turned in time to toss Jake's phone aside as Jessica headed through the nearly empty bar with you following behind her. There were two enormous shopping bags in your hands, and you had a smile on your face as you asked, "Ready to go home, Beer Boy?"

"Hell yes," he murmured, closing the distance to your lips and kissing you hard. "Did you buy that pink thing? And the black one?"

His hands wound around your waist possessively, and he got even more excited as you tucked the bags behind your back and whispered, "There's only one way to find out."

Bradley started guiding you to the door. "Yeah. We're going home. Right now." He ran his nose along your cheek and gave you one more sweet kiss before shouting over his shoulder, "Thanks for the beers, Bagman. Oh, and Jessica, I need you to crop your photos better next time you take my wife shopping."

---------------------------

I love Beer Boy for making Sugar feel so good about herself every day. She's a badass, and he knows it. I wrote this as a little wedding treat for @je-suis-prest-rachel Congratulations, Rachel! And thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

@bethabear12

@halo-mystic

@sherlockstrangewolf

@theamuz

@khaylin27

@glenpowellluver

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 7

A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic

A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.

Chapter Seven

Sharp.

One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.

“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.

“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.

The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.

“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.

“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.

You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.

You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.

“Your daughter, she wrote this.”

The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.

“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.

“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”

Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.

Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry–  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”

“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.

“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.

“Is almost empty!”

“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.

You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.

Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.

“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”

The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.

“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.

“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”

Nigel's eyes widened.

“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.

“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”

Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.

“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.

“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”

“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”

Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.

“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.

“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 

She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.

“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”

“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–

An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.

“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.

“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 

“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.

It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.

Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.

The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.

“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”

“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.

His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.

“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.

He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.

“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”

“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.

“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”

“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.

“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”

“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.

“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”

He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.

“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”

“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.

“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."

Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 

Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.

You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.

You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.

Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 

For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.

Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.

And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.

You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.

Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 

You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.

He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.

“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”

“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”

“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”

She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.

“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”

“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–

Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.

You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.

“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”

“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”

“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”

He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.

“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”

“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”

Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.

Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.

Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.

“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”

“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”

“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”

“You went too far!!” you snapped.

“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”

You let go of her belt buckle.

“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.

“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”

She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.

“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”

“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”

Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.

Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.

“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.

He looked disgusted at the idea.

“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.

“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”

You seemed a little relieved.

Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.

You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.

Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.

“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.

Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.

“My battery ran out.”

His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.

Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.

“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”

Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.

He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.

He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.

“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 

In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.

“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.

“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.

“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.

You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”

He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.

Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.

Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender

[ohbo-ohno]

https://www.tumblr.com/ohbo-ohno/728955236158423040/omgomgomgomggggg-u-mentioned-reader-locked-in-a

Okay I just saw this ask and omg.

The tug of war killed me. Now all I can image though is the boys sneaking a squeaker into the belly of the bear some how so when the reader is really scared and squeezing tight it squeaks?! And the boy immediately turning and saying “aw does puppy want to play?” And reader being so confused but also then starting to associate the squeak with the bear so they get happy when they hear it. The boys teasing the reader because they are just like a real puppy excited about a squeaker, but the reader can’t help it because they have been Pavlov-ed.

Also hear me out them getting reader and bear matching collars? so bear gets leashed in the nest to?!

Also Also the simon and johnny bears in the bad cage?! my heart! so mean but also i wonder how long it would take before the reader ends up using them for comfort in the bad place. (I hope the simon bear is like a halloween skeleton bear… )

Love seeing your responses and writing as always!💕

-🎃

yeah that's seriously one of my favorites, i loved the asks and i loved writing for them.

yeah i was possessed with that tug of war thing. it popped into my head and i felt like God Himself had spoken to me. no one should be at all surprised if it pops up somewhere else in my stuff, just longer and better written

SQUEAKY TOY! SQUEAKY TOY! SQUEAKY TOY! it's only right you have on of your own, when johnny has been biting you to make you squeak since the first time he got his hands on you.

the pavlov of it all omggggggg. them making sure to make you squeak it nice and loud so you associate the sound with your good comfy stuffy, buy also you think chew->squeak->good because they pet you and praise you so nicely. gotta teach the dumb little puppy how to play with her toys :/ it's in the fic i just recommended (here) but i also love the idea of a vibrator attached to a chew toy, so your brain associates chewing with sexual pleasure. a very quick way to get you nice and conditioned

and with the collar - all day yes. what you wear, your stuffy wears (pretty easy since you're mostly naked, but i also present you the image of ghost agonizing over a sewing machine and desperately trying to make a mini version of your cute new outfit). you two are always matching. you wear a collar that matches the stuffy's perfectly, because of course you do! you two have to match!

simon and johnny bears in the bad cage 😔😔😔 they're there to keep you company!!! you get so scared in there all alone, and now you're not! a perfect solution! really, you should thank them.

and of course you start to see them as a comfort. they feel just like your other stuffy when held tight to your chest, it doesn't take long at all for you to start squeezing them close for any speck of comfort when all you can hear are the screams echoing off cement walls. ghost fucking loves watching you snuggle the little stuffed him for comfort. such a clear sign to him that you're giving into him more and more :') anyways yeah johnny bear and simon bear are the only nice things you get in the bad cage

(ghost and soap picked stuffies for each other - ghost is a skeleton bear and johnny is a very doofy looking bear)

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Get to Know Me tag

Ultimate Addition

Been tagged with multiple versions of this. Will do this all in one.

And maybe this will be the definitive version.

Thanks to: @herrmannhalsteadproduction here, @sleepywriter00 here, @mk-writes-stuff here and here, @dyrewrites here, @infinnative here, @buffythevampirelover here, and @mysticstarlightduck here.

Tagging @illarian-rambling @gottestod-writes @cowboybrunch @blind-the-winds @uninspired-platypuss @little-peril-stories @loopyhoopywrites @its-on-site @aalinaaaaaa @randomlettrrsqqssfxwcvhxnqbwriro @thepeculiarbird + anyone else

(y'all don't have to do all of these - pick one. Honestly you can do all of them but like...only if you really want to)

Version 1

Last Song - Driving the Last Spike (Genesis)

Currently Watching - Star Trek Voyager in my trek marathon, still have a little bit of Phineas and Ferb to rewatch, MythBusters, Whose Line is it Anyway, The Bad Batch as it comes out, and I keep forgetting the last bit of Hamster and Gretel is on D+ rip

Three Ships - uhhh the least controversial I feel will be Robin/Starfire (Teen Titans), Kirk/Spock (Star Trek), and Dakota/Cavendish (Milo Murphy's Law)

Favorite color - T E A L 🩵💚 it slaps. Btw this: 🩵 is not teal but it's the emoji that pops up when I type teal wtf teal is GREENER that's like cyan which also has the same emoji I'm sick of people calling light blue teal

Currently reading - beta reading Whispers by @magic-is-something-we-create and making my way through Purple Hyacinth on Webtoon

Currently consuming - uh just woke up will have my coffee in a bit

Place of birth - Earth

Currently location - pretty sure it's Earth

Last movie - True Lies (first time watching)

Version 2

Are you named after anyone? No my mom was sick of the family name she was given so revolted against peer pressure.

When was the last time you cried? Uhh couple days ago got caught in traffic due to an accident and went a separate way only to find myself on the feeder road with more traffic from another accident so I had to pull into a Jaguar parking lot before I got full a panic attack

Do you have kids? No please dear God. Future students are my kids.

What sport do you/have you played? Soccer when I was like in kindergarten.

Do you sarcasm? See next answer

What's the first thing you notice about someone? That they exist

Eye color? Brown

Scary movie or happy ending? These aren't opposites?? Scary movies have happy endings! So happy endings.

Any talents? Uh, writing, I guess. Media analysis. I can read fast. I'm Gen Z and can write in cursive. I kick ass at the puzzle match mini game on Wii Party.

Where were you born? *Double checks* yeah still Earth

Hobbies? Writing, reading, watching TV, scrolling through Tumblr, media analysis, watching YouTube, daydreaming, listening to music, useless data analysis

Any pets? Two cats

Height? 5'4

Favorite subject? ELAR (reading/writing) that's why I want to teach it

Dream job? See above

Version 3

Currently reading - answered this above

Last song - I'm doing this on a different day (sorry) and now it's Crazy Little Thing Called Love (Queen)

Currently watching - said above

Current fic - uh I'm just reading the stuff I already said

Current hyperfixation - brain recently has been toggling between Phineas and Ferb, Teen Titans (2003), Avatar The Last Airbender, Megamind, and my WIP The Secret Portal so uh pick one

Favorite color - T E A L

Sweet/spicy/savory - I guess savory but yeah depends on mood

Relationship status - happily dating ❤️

Last thing I Googled - Ming-Na Wen (wanted to know her age. She's 60)

Song stuck in my head - currently Somebody To Love (Queen - was listening to the greatest hits)

Favorite food - my dad's food, specifically his Cincinnati chili and his cake

Dream trip - New Zealand or Tokyo

Version 4

(highlight what describes you)

APPEARANCE

Dark hair* // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don't often smile// I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards

*up for debate

ACTIVITIES/INTERESTS

I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami* // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand

*with instructions and not well

RELATIONSHIPS

I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year// I have a crush* // I have a friend I've known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend+ // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship^ // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online

*does my gf count as a crush? I still act like it lol

+am dating

^i think this is referring to romance but I do have other friends in other states

SEASONS

I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sunrise* // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colours // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favourite season

*I think once could be making that up

Take your bets if I'm an outdoorsy person (nope)

MISCELLANEOUS

I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of Sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower* // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed+ // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs

*quietly

+used to

EDIT: I've decided to add onto this post whenever I get a new get to know me tag, so from here on out this was not in the original post

Version 5

I'm over 5'5 / I wear glasses or contacts (glasses) / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts (I think some of them count?) / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / I have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / i don't often smile / resting boss face / i play sports (was in soccer in kindergarten haha) / I play an instrument (used to, violin) / i know more than one language (I know some ASL but I've forgotten most of it... ) / I can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / I have never dated anyone / I have a best friend that I have known for over five years (Cado, how has it been seven years almost????) / I am an only child

Version 6

Last song: as of answering this, technically I watched Psych so the theme song!

Favorite color: you should know this at this point in the post

Currently watching: Psych like I said, also Star Trek Voyager and a few on the side still (see above)

Sweet/spicy/savory: see Version 3

Current obsession: ...Psych but also my WIPs :)

Last thing I googled: thesaurus because I was doing the @sipofsnips and didn't have the word this morning

Favorite season: they all suck but I'll go with fall

Skill I'd like to learn: I want to draw good

Best advice: "thinking about it counts as working on it" because it's changed my outlook on how much I get done in a day, "progress is progress" for similar reasons but more general, and generally that if you burn yourself out trying to do everything nothing gets done

Woo! This was a LOT holy shit. Hope you know more about me!

Version 7

A scent you love: ooh cookies baking smells wonderful

Something you're looking forward to this week: finals finished yesterday which means more free time for me! I get to catch up on reading and writing!!

Currently reading: beta for Whispers by @magic-is-something-we-create WHICH I CAN FINALLY GET BACK TO WOOOO

Currently playing: not a video game person sorry - but I've been occasionally picking at mobile games like Animal Restaurant

Most recent movie: uh... When did I last watch a movie?? I think it was True Lies?? First time watching. Wasn't expecting it to be as chaotic as it was.

Current show: Star Trek Voyager and Psych! Partially rewatch/first time watching every episode and total rewatch respectively! I've not seen either since middle school so this is super exciting

Favorite season: autumn because it's starting to get cooler and pollen isn't everywhere

Recently learned: took a life in the universe class this semester and learned a lot about life in the universe (obviously) and while I have mixed feelings about the class MAN the content was fascinating

Water intake: currently drinking water like always :) । have to pee

[bougiebutchbitch]

Desperately gnawing on the concept of a universe-swap fic where Batman winds up with Jokester and Joker winds up with Owlman...

CN: violence, smut, violent smut insinuated, dubcon insinuated

Batman doesn’t trust Jokester at first - how can he? But the more he learns about the other universe and his counterpart, the more he understands. The more he believes. The more he starts to let himself feel what he’s never allowed himself to feel.

After all, is Jokester not what he’s always searched for? A light within the monstrous dark; a beacon of hope on which Batman has burnt himself so many times, he’s almost given up and doused the flames? A sign that not even the Joker is irredeemable in every iteration of this world?

But if that’s true, then the Owlman must be a sign that Batman is far from uncorruptable, too.

Jokester is as much of a flirt as the man he replaced, albeit with significantly less blood on his hands. He teases, he pushes. Batman can’t help but fall.

Far away, in another world, Joker gnaws his cheeks raw and gnashes his teeth, because he knows - he just knows - that his Bat would love that snivelling, pathetic, defanged version of himself, who gets all squeamish about murder and maiming and - ugh, oh, isn’t he just an embarrassment to every other Joker in the multiverse?

Why, the thought that his first time with the Bat might be stolen by that purple-haired little trollop is almost as offensive as it’s hilarious.

But if Batman is honking the wrong clown’s horn, why shouldn’t Joker have some fun of his own, huh? Especially since the big, bad Bat - no, Owl - of this world really puts the emphasis on the ‘bad’. He doesn’t bother with all those silly silly morals that hold Joker and Batman apart. He rules Gotham with an iron fist, and Joker can’t wait to get it around his throat. 

#

And thus, for a while, on both sides of the divide, everything feels exactly as it should be.

But it’s not long before the cracks begin to show.

#

Batman buries his fingers in purple hair when he kisses his partner at the end of each patrol. He feels the soft curls tangling in the heavy, armoured joints of his gloves, the warmth of the mouth against his, the acid scars and the strange, mutated smoothness of Jokester’s skin. And every time, he shuts his eyes and tries not to think of green.

#

One night, hungry for a dance, Joker nicks a bunch of chemicals from the mansion’s bathroom and blows one wing of the house sky-high. But when the caped crusader of Gotham pummels him into the floor (and then the bed) in punishment, mouth tight with fury under his cowl, his cloak is white, not black.

When Joker calls him Brucie, Owlman sneers and tells him Bruce Wayne is dead. A heavy collar clicks shut around Joker’s neck as he laughs and laughs and laughs until it’s almost screaming.

#

One night, Jokester takes Batman up to the roof of the tallest skyscraper in Gotham - one of Wayne Enterprises’, of course. He gazes out over a cityscape so familiar, yet so different. So twisted in such alien ways.

“Well,” he says, in that acid-scratch voice, like he’s been gargling with bleach. “This has been swell, partner. 10/10 on Trip Advisor, for sure. But it’s been a long staycation, and I’m not the only one who’s been thinking of home, sweet home.”

Bruce’s brows furrow beneath the cowl until they match Batman’s permanent black rubber frown. “What do you mean? This is my home, right here.”

The look Jokester shoots him is rather too knowing. For a moment, in the distorted glare of the reflected city lights, his green jacket almost looks purple.

Bruce’s tongue works dryly against his throat as he swallows. “It could be your home, too.”

Jokester pats his cheek, drawing back along the thin ledge that separates the roof from the empty night sky. “I bet you say that to all the clowns...”

“I’m serious. You don’t have to go back.”

Gotham - his Gotham - is so much better now. No more Joker gas. No more regular mass-murders or breakouts from Arkham. No more monthly birthday presents.

Batman still feels that strange tightening in his abdomen when the end of the month approaches. He used to think it was worry about what mayhem Joker would wreak next.

Now he’s not so sure.

“What about my world?” the Jokester wants to know. “Ol’ Owlie’s gonna find plenty of entertainment with my worse half, for sure - but just think of the mess I’ll have to clean when I get back!” He flashes his dark-painted nails. “This manicure is not made for housework, I’m afraid.”

Batman reaches out, but Jokester dances away so his hand closes on air rather than his arm, windmilling his arms with pantomimed clumsiness, the toes of his dress shoes slipping against the roof’s edge, like he couldn’t balance along a tightrope as easily as Selina.

“I don’t want you to go back.”

Jokester goes still, balance perfect despite his ungainly pose, then slowly resettles on the balls of his feet, hands dropping to his sides. His face is all familiar marble lines. Bruce knows them so well he could sculpt him with his eyes shut - but he’s never seen this particular expression on his Joker.

Regret.

“I want to go back,” he murmurs, and it strikes Batman suddenly, guiltily, that maybe he isn’t the only one who’s bit his tongue at the point of climax to keep the wrong name from spilling out.

There’s little more to say, after that. Perhaps Bruce should fight harder to convince Jokester to say. He should definitely fight harder to convince himself that’s the outcome he wants.

But he doesn’t.

#

He takes the world-swap project off hold, and within a week he has a working prototype. He kisses Jokester one last time, as they wait for the machine to power up. It’s a goodbye. It’s a thank you. It’s a silent, soft understanding - one neither of them will get from anyone else (already, the rest of the Batfam, who had grudgingly begun to welcome a purple-haired clown at their table, have evacuated the house and fled for their respective corners of the city).

Batman will miss them. Hell, he’ll miss him. As he curls his arms around Jokester’s body - the body he’s sending back to face a version of himself built from Bruce’s deepest desires and his compounded nightmares - tilting him back, deepening the kiss, he wonders if he’s making the worst mistake of his life.

But then, his mouth fills with the hot wash of blood. The spidery hands on his shoulders tense into claws, nails scraping sharp across the Kevlar plates. The machine’s hum reaches its crescendo. The lights flicker, then dim. Sparks burst from a console; something, somewhere, goes Zzzzzzp. The world tilts ten degrees starboard, then realigns like it’s settling after a wave, and the clown in Bruce’s embrace is suddenly all edges rather than soft compliance.

There’s a moment where that thin, rangy form winds tight like he might bolt or bite. But he only draws back far enough to slap Bruce across the face. Hard.

Bruce jerks, pain exploding through his right ear. “Ow?”

“Ow?” Joker rages. “Ow? Took you long enough! What’s the matter - you decided you prefer the grape flavor, over lime?”

He looks incredible. Vicious green eyes and knife-sharp bones and fists balled so tight at his sides they very-almost quiver. The springy curls wrapped around the fingers of Batman’s gauntlets are green. As they’re supposed to be.

He also looks terrible. Black eyes, hunched posture like he’s cracked a rib or five. Bruises everywhere Batman can see. Blood, too. Clothes in tatters, his acrid scent muddied with burnt mortar and singed hair. Like he’s been running, fighting, running again, for a very long time. Chased and caught and chased and caught over and over, a mouse beneath the paw of a cat.

Just like he’s always wanted, right? A nemesis who loves the dance as much as he.

“I honestly figured you were enjoying yourself,” Batman admits.

Joker huffs, crossing his spindly arms. “I was. Other-you - although he’s not other-you for your flesh mask, by the way? Just to make things more confusing! He’s a riot. Same stoic straight-man to my clowning routine. Same willingness to demonstrate that straight-man really ain’t the best description. But he’s completely absent of a moral compass! No more Joker, you can’t do that, or Joker, stop before you hurt anyone else, or Joker, won’t you think of the children?” Joker clasps his hands to his chest with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, why would I ever want to leave?”

Why indeed?

Batman’s gaze clings to the white metal collar wrapping Joker’s neck. He’s never gone quite that far before. Just as Joker hadn’t gone quite as far with him as Jokester had - straddling Bruce on the mussed sheets of his penthouse King-Size, riding him fast then slow. Panting, whining, dragging Bruce’s hand to feel that slick, hot, perfect point of connection where he stretched his clown out on his cock. Leaning forward to catch him in a kiss, purple curls tickling Bruce’s cheeks...

Batman tries not to dwell on that. Like he tries not to dwell on the nauseating coil of hot and cold, intrigue and repulsion, that wraps as tightly around his guts as that collar on Joker’s throat.

“Sometimes,” he says, as the lights slowly buzz back to full, illuminating the interior of one of the many abandoned warehouses at the edge of the docks, “we get what we wished for. Only to realize...”

He trails off, unsure how to finish. But Joker breaks into a beam that has no right to look so gleeful, with so much blood caked to his face. Although, at a closer look, Batman reckons only half of it’s his.

Joker left a scar on his counterpart. The thought sparks a strange marriage of envy and pride.

“That what we wanted was right beside us all along?” Joker chirps, batting his eyelashes. “My, Mr Batman B. Wayne! Is this where you get down on one knee?” He holds out one slender hand, like he’s showing off a ring. Or the knot at the knuckle of his ring finger, where the bone has been pulled from the joint and twisted abnormally to the side, no doubt while escaping cuffs. “Pick any stone but amethyst.”

Batman still doesn’t know if he’s walking the right path. Should he have insisted that Jokester stay for Gotham’s sake, while letting the other world burn? Or just that the Jokester stay for his own sake, so he won’t be delivered into the waiting arms of a monster like the Owlman?

But Batman’s monster is right here.

“I’m taking you back to Arkham,” he says, burying his fist in Joker’s collar, tugging him out the warehouse and towards the idling car. Then, when Joker pouts - evidently too injured, too exhausted, to put up much of a fight - “After we visit the cave, and get that thing off your neck.”

That perks Joker up; he trots the rest of the way to the car and plonks himself in the passenger seat while Batman enables the prisoner controls. Once there, he leans back against the headrest, stretching out the long, lean line of his throat. His skin is rudely white against the shadows. Like something cut from paper, or bone.

“Why? Wanna replace it with one of your own?”

He laughs when Batman fumbles the wrong button, sending out a loud blare of police radio static. The cackle is high and ugly and utterly, inescapably him.

Batman basks in it. Then he slams the correct button, tough fabric restraints wrapping around Joker’s chest and pinning him tight to the chair. He settles into the driver’s seat while Joker’s still sniggering and roars away as the warehouse bursts into flame, erasing all evidence of their collision between worlds - except that which lives on in the memories of one bat, one owl, and two clowns.

[sins-of-the-dragon]

Catharsis: Nightmare Fading - Short DA2 Fic (Reader Comfort) 1,642 Words

This is a re-imagining of a short fic piece I wrote for BG3. It's not really a fic story as much as it is a way to cope with traumatic memories through the medium of fiction and reframing memories/reality into something less painful. It's written in second person (you/your) with a non-descript gender neutral reader character. So this is your CONTENT WARNING - There is discussion of a traumatic incident. It is vague, there are no details of anything happening besides it being an incident with one or more people involved. The premise, in short, is that the characters of Dragon Age 2 have found a way to our world through The Fade and are turning up at the moment the reader needs them most. The hurt is vague but the comfort is the focus, with a view of "what would the characters say and do in this situation".

The original piece, Catharsis: Rewriting History (based on the characters from Baldur's Gate 3) is on AO3 here and has a very similar premise and vibe to it. This one isn't on AO3 yet, I'm still deciding whether I make a pseud for my account to write more Dragon Age or if I stick to may main fandom fics for now and just post a few odd DA musings here with a minific or two. Let me know, really, if you'd like more of my DA works~

Anyway, full fic below the cut. --- ---

Catharsis: Nightmare Fading It wasn’t fair. Life never was, perhaps, that you would come to know experiences like this. Pain you wished you couldn’t imagine - in your body or your soul, you couldn’t even tell. Perhaps it was both, your entire consciousness dissolving beyond physical and emotional agony to just focus on one thing and one thing alone. Live.

The air shimmered and crackled behind you, but with everything in front of you your mind was already seeking an escape from reality. You didn’t notice a thing until there was a short and muscular man carrying an impossibly large crossbow standing in front of you. “Sorry I’m not good at this kind of thing. But I’m here, and so are the rest of them. We can talk later.” He glanced back, the soft hint of a smile crossing his features before he turned back to the source of your pain. 

You blinked, unsure of what you’d seen, when you felt strong arms scoop you up, holding you tight against a broad chest. “Sorry I’m late, it’s not easy to navigate the Fade to cross worlds.” 

“They don’t need to worry about all that right now - are they alright?” A feminine voice this time. Chancing a glance at their faces, you saw they had to be related, maybe even twins. Even the red stripe of what you hoped was makeup across the bridge of their noses matched - they really were like two versions of the same person.

A woman in heavy armour stepped past the three of you, her face kind but hardened, ginger hair tied back in a neat but loose braid falling over her shoulder. “They will be.” She addressed you directly next, voice softening. “This won’t make sense right now, but someday it will. You can trust us, and don’t let anyone tell you to turn the page before you’re ready.” The woman turned away again, gripping her sword more tightly and striding forwards. 

Before you could gain your bearings again, you felt a wave of energy wash through you. Cooling, soothing, your body felt…better than it had in a very long time. “There you are.” A new voice, light and almost musical but with the edge of a weight behind it that told you he carried burdens of his own. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve…we should’ve been here.”

“We are here, or have you taken leave of the last of your senses in the Fade?” A gruffer voice spoke up, both men coming into view now. Something about them was familiar, tugging at your heart, pulling threads of memories that had yet to form. They looked at each other with animosity, but when they turned back to you… “Venhedis… You need to leave. What comes next is not for you to witness.” The tanned man was covered in lines of white tattoos that were beginning to faintly glow blue.

“Perhaps mercy might be an option?” The one holding you spoke again, but his words spurred a simple and wordless response. You shook your head. He squeezed you just slightly in his embrace as he acknowledged your decision. “Maybe not then. They’ve made their choice.”

You almost recoiled as the sharp edges of the tattooed man’s gauntlet reached towards you, but the pained look in his eyes mirrored your own. Perhaps if roles were reversed… The metal was cold, but his touch against your cheek was surprisingly gentle. “I will be back for you, when it’s over.” With that, he turned to leave, the light emanating from his tattoos glowing even through his armour. 

“You never deserved this. Not a single moment.” The other man who had been beside the tattooed warrior bent towards you, long blonde hair almost completely veiling your vision for a moment as he kissed your forehead. “I can’t promise you peace…” His voice seemed to change, taking on a slightly different tone as a subtle lightning crackled around his eyes. “But I can promise you Justice.” 

As he turned to leave, sparks playing around his fingertips with his raised hand, the man holding you turned too. The woman with you gestured towards a shimmering hole in reality, a green tinted world beyond, and a man in white armour with vivid red hair and bright blue eyes standing beside it. “It’s time to leave.”

You leaned more against the one carrying you, his ‘twin’ staying close and occasionally putting a hand on your shoulder. Risking a glance at the strange world around you, there were two women standing nearby waiting for your arrival. “Telanadas, ma vhenan. Come, with us.” The tattoos across her face were almost as endearing as her smile as she began to lead the way.

“Maybe you should leave the navigation to someone with a better compass.” The other woman turned her by the shoulders to face another pass. “Would you two mind being a bit quicker? This place is creepy…” 

—

A short time later you were in an unfamiliar room, a fireplace heating the area and lighting it with a welcoming glow. It was clearly a part of some large mansion, and though you’d never seen it before, there was something about it that felt like…home. The group with you sat you down on a large plush couch near the hearth, giving you a steaming mug of something that tasted smooth and soothing. They were a strange group. By the time the others joined. They told you stories - ones that you wouldn’t remember, but each word drove back the dark shadows trying to crowd into your mind. Softened the edges of the memories already trying to claw at you every time you blinked… 

Listening to them, watching them together, it was hard to understand what brought them all to the same place, the same cause. But the pair sat either side of you seemed like the common thread…or was it you? The shorter blonde man, who kept his crossbow close even while relaxing, was the best storyteller by far - if you were to rank them. He spoke of worlds, people, things you could hardly imagine. He also had a good many jokes, humour and wit shared by several of the others in the room. It felt like you knew them, their past, present, and futures all blending in your mind but never quite clear - it was like an impressionist painting, a mosaic half faded… The other blonde talked about cats a lot. You could almost imagine him with little cat ears on his head, but every now and then his voice sounded more serious as he spoke with you. More sincere as he asked deeper questions, a little blue lightning sparking in the depths of his eyes when he tried to comfort you with talk of what was right and just. There was little justice in the reality you left, but here…here you could almost believe him when he said he would move the stars in the sky to change your world if he could. 

Despite their arguing before, the white haired man with the tattoos over his body agreed on that point alone. His support held an anger to it, a ferocity that would have scared you had it not been abundantly clear that he meant it all to be protective. Not exactly the knight in shining armour that the fairy tales spoke of, but he understood…he had seen…he was not without sympathy for your tears. Even if his solutions leaned towards the violent. 

The dark haired woman with the tattoos on her face brought you some food, things you’d never tasted before, sweet and comforting. Every time you thanked her she almost glowed at the praise, her demeanour nothing short of adorable. When she asked if she could hug you, you worried for a moment that she might never let go as her grip was so tight and warm around you. One of the other women chided her though, reminding her to let you breathe.

All of their names escaped you, as if there were a layer between you that you couldn’t quite break down, but it didn’t seem to matter. While one told you tales of a wild and exciting life at sea, another told you of her dreams to settle down peacefully with someone she loved. The red haired man with his piercing blue eyes seemed most unsure of himself, but he was clear that no matter what path you chose to walk he would support it. 

For those hours, everything melted away. Fear, pain, every darkness of the world you left was chased away by the light around you, the warmth that closed in around you like a blanket. The last thing you heard before sleep claimed you was two voices speaking almost as one person. 

“Someday you’ll be making a lot of hard decisions for us…for me… They’re too hard for me to make alone, and Maker knows I’d rather not have to choose some of them at all. But I know…I know you will guide me in the best way you know how. That you will tell my story, and my companions’ too, that none of us will be alone with you watching over us. So, until you meet us all again, that’s what we will do for you.” 

Even their faces were blurring together as one in your mind, the slight pressure of their arms around you from either side melding into the feeling of the tangled sheets and blankets of your bed as the last of their words faded into a soft echo. 

“When the shadows are dark and the nights are long, we will be your light.” “When the fear from the past comes to claim you, we will fight it.” 

“When all hope seems to be out of reach, we will help you find it.” “Better days will come. Hold on, you’re not alone.”

— --- ENDING NOTES --- --- This one goes out to everyone who can in any way relate. We can try to reframe our memories into something less painful, to bring our minds back from the edge of a spiral or flashback in whatever ways work for us. Please always remember, loves, that you have survived all of your worst days up to now. Get through one moment at a time if you need to, and things will get better again. And even whilst they are awful in the moment, Hawke was right: You're not alone.

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Sketchbook Week Day 4 - Dreaming of Bumping Into You (Chapter 2)

Summary: When Johanna is woken up in the middle of the night by a strange phone call, she knows she has to ask Kaisa what is happening. She just doesn’t know which is more concerning; whether it’s the words being said or the way her best friend sounds while she’s delivering them

Notes: Written for @sketchbookweek Day 4 - Apologies

Listen, this fic’s song is obviously Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High, but the ‘you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor’ line in Taylor Swift’s Is It Over Now? OOOUUGHHHH

Read it on ao3

Kaisa was, if anything, used to feeling like a useless sad waste of space on her own. But the thing she was only just getting used to again was, she didn’t have to do that anymore. Now she could feel like a useless sad waste of space with someone by her side telling her she was being silly.

It was a welcome change. So she reached out for it even when she didn’t really realise that that’s what she was doing.

She went to Tildy’s house after the library was closed for the day, forgoing her usual extra organisation time and deciding that that would be a problem for tomorrow morning’s version of herself. Depending on whether her former mentor managed to coax her into staying for dinner and then some extra hours just to catch up (she usually did), she’d probably hate her former self for it come daylight, but hey, screw that jerk.

The key that she’d kept since her teens still worked, and Kaisa had already checked with Tildy if it was okay for her to keep using it (the answer had been an enthusiastic yes, of course). She let herself in, the voices that reached her ears as soon as she stepped inside betraying that they wouldn’t be alone. If it were anyone else, Kaisa would have been pissed at having to talk to someone who wasn’t Tildy. But she recognized the second voice, and oddly enough she had no trouble with it. Hadn’t ever, truth be told.

She found Tildy and Frida sitting together at the kitchen table, eyes turned to astrology sheets spread all over it.

On cue as always, the eldest witch opened a beaming smile at the sight of her. The youngest one… not so much. It stung, but Kaisa had come to expect it; it had been the same for a couple of weeks. She couldn’t even blame Frida for it, poor kid. It was Kaisa’s fault that she was at a very tight spot, caught between genuinely liking her and wanting to defend her and not being able to do so since it was her very best friend (her familiar, for crying out loud) who was the one avoiding her like the plague and no doubt listing her reasons for it when the librarian was out of earshot.

Kaisa had no idea what Johanna had been telling her daughter about her, but whatever it was, she wouldn’t blame Frida for it. Even if she damn nearly teared up when the kids she’d grown so fond of went to the library and ignored her completely outside of their cold ‘good afternoon’s.

No matter. She still returned Tildy’s smile as best as she could, and gave Frida one even if she couldn’t match it. She was so concentrated on it, in fact, she didn’t even notice when Tildy’s face turned into a frown and she squinted at the spot just above her head.

“Hey, you two!” Kaisa greeted with a cheeriness she absolutely did not feel. She was so tired her head was pounding, having woken up feeling like she hadn’t slept through the night every morning for at least a month. “Sorry to interrupt, I just came to hang out for a bit. I can come back some other day.”

She didn’t want to come back another day. She wanted Tildy’s comfort and she wanted it now, but she wasn’t self centred enough to barge into someone else’s training and make them uncomfortable. Not when it was Frida, at least.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Frida answered even if she didn’t really look Kaisa in the eye. It was already a step forward from how she acted at the library, though. Maybe she just didn’t want Hilda to see her being kind to her. “We were just finished, actually! I should probably get back home.”

An awkward silence stretched itself over them, as Frida began putting away in her backpack that which belonged to her and Matilda for some reason continued staring past Kaisa, now pointedly enough that the librarian noticed. Kaisa fidgeted, biting the skin on the inside of her lip. When the child (teen, really, but she didn’t want to think about it at that moment) made to get up from her chair, Kaisa forced herself to speak up and step closer.

“Wait!” She blushed when the two of them turned to her with questioning looks. “Frida, I’m sorry. I know things have been awkward lately, and that’s exactly why I came to talk to Tildy, really. And if it’s not a bother… I’d like to talk to you, too. Because I care-” She took a deep breath, looking at the table rather than at her. “I care what you think about me. You don’t have to listen, of course. I know loyalty goes both ways in a familiar’s relationship. But if you could, I’d like to explain myself.”

Frida, for her part, looked taken aback and a bit like a deer in headlights. “You don’t have to-”

“I do. I have no idea what you’ve heard, but if you could give me the benefit of the doubt, I’d like for you to build your own opinion. Even if this isn’t a matter that should even concern you at all.”

Though it wasn’t audible, Kaisa could see Frida’s gulp by the bobbing of her throat. She nodded shily, almost imperceptibly, and sat back down at her chair. With a relieved sigh, Kaisa sank down in front of the two of them, noticing how Tildy was eyeing them with curiosity and even a bit of wariness.

“I’d very much like to know what this is about.” The elder said. “You’ve both been acting off for a while. Any looming disasters I should be aware of?”

A self deprecating smile graced Kaisa’s lips. “Only my personal life.”

And then she told them. Her part of the story, all of it, leaving gaps only in the parts that couldn’t be filled by anything other than ‘I am quite deeply, irrevocably, dreadfully in love with Johanna Pearson”. But she told them about Johanna’s first visit, and then the second one, and the bizarre accusations that she’d brought. She told them about swallowing her pride and going to Johanna’s house, only to have her heart stomped on (platonically, of course, because she’d never be stupid enough to think someone that out of her reach could want anything else with her, right?). She told them about having lost the closest friendship she’d had since she’d been a carefree child. She told them about not knowing what she’d done wrong and it eating her alive. She told them about replaying what had happened over and over in her head, wondering what she could have done to change that outcome, only to come to the conclusion that the problem was her each time.

Tildy had held and caressed her hand throughout her rant, and when she was done, Frida looked baffled. And then she told the part of the story that she’d heard, that Hilda was a light sleeper and had been woken up every night for a fortnight by a phone call to their landline in the dead of night. That the first times it had happened she’d seen her mother look miserable the next day. That she’d suddenly stopped going to the library and ever mentioning it or Kaisa, and that even if she didn’t comment anything about it to her daughter, even if Hilda had no idea what any of it was about, she was smart enough to connect the dots. Hilda didn’t know how, but she knew Kaisa was responsible for her mother being a wreck for the past month.

The two students stared at each other, enough trust between them that they didn’t question the other’s truthfulness. Have you ever seen a computer loading screen? Of course you have. That’s what the two of them would probably look like to anyone who was to see them at that moment, their minds overheating at trying to process an amount of information they were far too smart to have any trouble putting together.

The first thing that registered in Kaisa’s mind was that Johanna wasn’t shit talking her to her daughter. That was good. The second thing that did was that the phone calls were real. And they had been causing true distress to Johanna, so much so that she couldn’t even hide if from Hilda when usually she was so good at doing just that. Which meant she hadn’t been looking for a way out of their friendship, nor purposefully pushing her away. It should have made Kaisa feel better, knowing that. But it didn’t, really, because she now realised she’d been a grade A asshole who had called her best friend a liar. So what if she took somebody else’s voice for her own? It was three in the morning, she couldn’t be expected to have all her brain cells fully functioning after being startled out of sleep by the ringing.

Frida was giving Johanna’s sleepy mind more credit, apparently, reasoning out loud how the mysterious caller could have Kaisa’s voice. Her mind immediately went to audio editing and voice altering spells, shooting ideas while Kaisa stared at nothing in particular and tried to process all of that.

It was odd, though. It was odd because Tildy was uncharacteristically quiet. Generally that happened when she wanted them to work something out by themselves, so when they’d run out of ideas (not that Kaisa had contributed with a single one. Her mind was too busy rotating the thought ‘she doesn’t hate me, she doesn’t hate me’ over and over to do anything else) they turned their gazes to her. Her face wasn’t sporting the typical look that somehow conveyed pride and a sense of ‘how cute, you have so much to learn still’ at the same time. Tildy was still staring at the top of Kaisa’s head with a gaze so focused it could probably melt ice.

“So-” Frida said when their mentor didn’t immediately jump to praising the good ideas and gently correcting the ones that were utter trash. “What do you think?”

Matilda didn’t even blink. “Kaisa. Have you been sleeping well?”

It took her a couple of seconds to gather her bearings. Out of all the things she’d expected Tildy to comment on, her fucking dark bags weren’t on her list. But sure, why not. She’d heard weirder things come out of the witch’s mouth.

“No. I’ve been waking up feeling like I didn’t rest every day. Figured it’s just anxiety.”

She hummed. “How long has that been happening?”

“Like-” Eternity. Every minute she spent like that dragged itself on and on until it felt like she’d never felt like anything but tired. “A month, give or take?”

Tildy nodded, turning her gaze to her eyes, finally. It was cutting and cold, taking Kaisa by surprise. Just not as much as her next words did.

“And tell me, my dear, have you had this hex over you for long?”

…......

This time, she did not resist the urge to buy flowers before heading to Johanna’s. In fact, all three of them agreed that that was the least that could be done. And that’s how a coven of witches ended up at Tildy’s favourite florist, choosing flowers for a bouquet while secretly stalling for time for Kaisa to put herself together and think about what she was going to say. It would have to be good, too, because it would take a miracle for Johanna to take her back. Hell, it would take a miracle for Kaisa to even get to the sorry part, since she now had to live with the knowledge she’d apparently spilled her guts all over Johanna.

It was frightening. She tried to keep in mind that Johanna’s first reaction after receiving the phone call had been checking that she was fine, and that she hadn’t, apparently, deliberately pushed her away. That she maybe, possibly, had a chance, or had had once, at least. But it was a difficult thing to focus on when she’d spent the past few weeks thinking their entire relationship had been built on pity at best. Still, she wasn’t trying to achieve any miracles here. She wasn’t about to ask Johanna out on a date right out of the bat, or anything of the sort. She just wanted her best friend back.

They left the flower shop with a bouquet of lily of the valley, white roses and pink carnations.

It was a damn good thing she had the two other witches with her, because judging by the amount of times Kaisa thought about bolting during the walk to the Pearson’s household, her nerves would have probably won out eventually if she wasn’t being watched. It was with much effort and no small amount of anxiety that she eventually found herself in front of Johanna’s flat, flanked by her coven.

Her raised fist wavered in front of the door, flashes of the last time she’d been there crossing her mind unwantedly. It hadn’t been her fault. But that didn’t mean it didn’t feel like it.

Tildy put a gentle hand on her shoulder, encouraging her with a soft “you can do it” near her ear. Frida squeezed her forearm (not her hand, since she was using it to hold the bouquet). It was all the encouragement she needed. Good thing too, since it was all the encouragement she could get.

She knocked on the door.

Which was answered by Hilda.

Immediately, her expression morphed into a frown; a predictable reaction, considering the first thing she saw was the librarian with a bunch of flowers. But then it melted into growing levels of confusion as she noticed her best friend and the arch sorceress by her sides.

“Hilda.” Frida said before Kaisa even had the chance to formulate something rational to say. “Please come with us. Trust me with this one, they need to talk.”

Hilda clearly wasn’t too fond of the idea, but she did trust Frida. So after popping back inside the house to give her mother a heads up, she came back out again and left alongside the two witches, just not before shooting Kaisa a glare that left no question that she’d have to face her anger if she hurt Johanna.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

When Kaisa stepped inside (this was certainly not a door frame sort of conversation, and no one was blocking the way, anyhow), she saw Johanna already standing up with her arms crossed over her chest. Her drawing table was littered with her work tools. Great, she’d interrupted her thought process. What a perfect beginning.

“I didn’t- I didn’t lie.” Kaisa said after a fortifying breath, only to cringe after doing so. Sure, start your apology by defending yourself. Why not go ahead and just throw the flowers at her face and run really quickly? “Hold up, let me try this again.”

She closed her eyes just after seeing Johanna’s eyebrow quirk up. No matter, though, she knew how foolish she must look. She could only hope there was a chance that humbling herself in front of the woman would make her more likely to forgive her. After a couple of heartbeats, during which she’d willed them to not be that damn fast, she began again.

“Listen, Anna, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you, and that I doubted you. I’m sorry I acted like you were being unreasonable when you just wanted to make sure that I was okay and to know what was going on. And I’m sorry if I overstepped when I called you. Except I need you to understand that I really don’t know if I did, because I can’t remember it.”

“Is that so?” Johanna’s attempt at nonchalance was undermined by the fact that her voice sounded like she was about to choke up. Kaisa gave her the grace of pretending she didn’t notice it, knowing she wasn’t faring much better herself. “Then why the hell didn’t you just tell me you were high? Do you think I would have-”

Interrupting her was probably not what she should have done, but Kaisa couldn’t bear to let her finish, anyway. She was desperate to get her to understand, desperate to see what could be salvaged of them, desperate for her to stop thinking Kaisa would ever misjudge her like that.

“I wasn’t!” She all but pleaded. “I was under a hex! I called you, I said whatever I did, and I remembered nothing of it because a spell was cast on me and made me do it. I know it’s a piss poor excuse, but it’s true! I-” Noticing how she was rambling, Kaisa stopped to breathe for the first time since she’d started the explanation. When she continued, it was with a bit more of strenuously forced calm. “I’d never treat you like that. When you told me about the calls, I thought you were making up an excuse to stop talking to me. You can’t notice a magical working that is cast on you, at least not directly. You can only notice it’s consequences. I only know about it now because Tildy saw through it and broke it for me.”

It was a good explanation, and Johanna would know so. She’d never allowed Kaisa to live down the tide mice incident, after all. So it wasn’t the hex bit that she questioned.

“So you didn’t mean what you said, then?”

Kaisa blinked. Focusing on controlling her breathing could only take her so far, and her heart picked up pace again. The damage had been done, she reminded herself. Keeping her feelings a secret not only had been harming them, but it was also no longer an option. It would be stupid to try to deny it, and if she had any hope of doing any damage control it would probably be required for her to wear her heart on her cheek. It was just fair after what she’d put the woman through.

“I meant all of it.” She started out saying, hoping that Johanna’s sudden blush was a good sign. “I still don’t know exactly what it was. But the hex I was under was crafted to force fiends to reveal their better hidden secrets. The witch who put it on me vastly overestimated how much I wanted to keep her from getting a spell. The person under the magical influence can’t actually remember their actions, because that would alert them to the casting. But I can imagine what I must have told you.”

Johanna had, at some point, let her arms fall to her sides, no longer looking so guarded but rather taken aback and… hopeful? Though it was entirely likely that Kaisa was just imagining what she wanted to see. Either way, there were no signs of resistance or discomfort when the librarian stepped closer, so she did, even if she still kept a respectful distance. She tried to look Johanna in the eyes for this next bit. Probably failed, but an attempt was made.

“I can imagine what it must have been.” She repeated almost quietly. “Because I was terrified of you finding out how I feel about you. Of you finding out… before I was ready. But I think this is just an excuse I was telling myself. I think I never would have considered myself ready, or deserving of being with you. So even if I wouldn’t admit it, that was my best hidden secret. That I care for you not just the way friends care for each other. That being around you makes me nervous in a nice way. That I think you’re the prettiest person I know, even if that should be a given since you must own a mirror or two. I don’t expect you to return any of my feelings, of course. I’d be happy to remain your friend, if you’d do me the honour. But I am so sorry that I made you think I’d only ever admit all of that under the influence. I am sorry I was an idiot who didn’t listen. I’m sorry I left you thinking I’d be that cruel, because I really was acting like it even if I didn’t know so.”

She raised the bouquet to Johanna, still far away enough that both women had to fully extend their arms for her to reach it. The artist eyed it wearily, her brows furrowed even as she took the flowers into her arms. She looked at them, and then at Kaisa with that same expression, not like rejection but more like she was trying to wrap her head around what she’d been told.

Kaisa waited patiently for a reaction. She wasn’t in any position to make any demands, and nor did she want to.

“I- this is a lot.” Johanna whispered. “A lot to process, I mean. Could we maybe go somewhere later?” After a glance at the window, and at the stars already out, she backtracked. “Or maybe tomorrow? I just- thank you for the apology. I just don’t think my brain is fully functioning right now.”

Doing her best to plaster a smile upon her face, Kaisa nodded. It was perfectly understandable, and even if it squashed her best outcome fantasy scenarios of leaving in Johanna’s good graces, and already more than she could ask for. If she was being given the chance to see her again, then not all was lost. Probably.

“Of course.” She said, taking a step back with as much dignity as she could (not a lot). “Does tomorrow morning at the park work for you? I can use my break to meet you, so around ten?”

Johanna nodded in agreement. They’d find each other at their usual spot in the park. That bit didn’t even need to be said out loud.

“Okay.” Trying not to be disheartened by Johanna’s eerie silence, Kaisa sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll let Frida know she can bring Hilda back, too. Thank you.”

She was aware of Johanna’s eyes on her back as she left the apartment, debating whether this a good sign or a bad one and eventually settling that it was just what you did when someone who was talking to you walked away and not much else was happening. Johanna just stood there, stunned and coming back to herself slowly, piece by piece. Kaisa had been out of the door for many moments when she properly registered the flowers she was holding, the weight and the scent of them, the light colours and beautiful shapes. She’d been gone for a couple more moments when Johanna registered the confession, a proper one given while staring at her face. And Johanna-

Johanna had let her walk away without the slightest explanation as to what her feelings were.

“Shit!” She ran to the window overcome with the feeling that she was running out of time, but some god must be watching over her because she did so exactly when Kaisa was right in front of the building.

‘Kaisa, wait!” The shout made Kaisa immediately turn to where the sound had come from, clearly startled out of her skin. “I love you too!”

The witch stared at her with her mouth hanging open, turning Johanna’s attention to the ridiculousness of what she’d just done. She blushed the shade of the carnations she was holding.

“Just wanted you to know!” She shouted again and then ran away from the window, which was how mature adults handled having a crush, thank you very much.

If she’d stuck around just a second longer, she would have seen a radiant smile blooming on Kaisa’s face.

The witch walked away with a new glow. That night, she’d stay asleep for as long as she wanted without waking up against her will and knowledge, and even if she didn’t know so yet, she’d leave from the park the next day with a lot more than she’d had walking in. Maybe she had found what she’d been hoping to find, after all.

…......

The Committee of Three was very surprised to have such a young witch request an audience, alone, with them. But they acquiesced, of course. If they could ever get Frida to leave Matilda Pilqvist behind and play on their side, she’d be a valuable asset.

“It has come to our attention that a hex has been placed over Kaisa.” The girl stated once she was in their hall, her voice echoing and her confidence making her sound a lot older than she actually was. “And she has reasons to believe it was one of you to have done so.”

Juniper shrugged, not knowing what that was about but not really caring if it was true. Abigail smirked to her sister, whose silence was the only confirmation she gave. To someone as intelligent as the young witch in front of them, it was enough. If it angered her, she didn’t let it show.

“I am willing to give away my mentor’s best spell.” She said, matter of factly. While the girl had never been so… formal around them, they understood that the situation probably called for it in her mind. They all listened closely, now more interested than ever. “If you are willing to vow never to put a hex, curse, jinx, or any other type of malicious casting over any member of my coven.”

The negotiations were quick. There was no reason for them not to be, with the offer being exactly what they wanted and the condition, something they figured they could live without. Frida refused to budge until they had signed a magically binding scroll that would make sure they couldn’t go back on their word, at least not without suffering dire consequences. Once she was satisfied, Frida put the scroll she’d brought with herself down on the floor and walked away with her head held high.

The preparations for the casting were done immediately. They followed the scroll’s instructions to a fault - Matilda’s spells tended to be temperamental and fickle to say the least - and chanted in unison as soon as all was ready. Protection spells were usually subtle, so none of them were expecting to see any changes to the Witches’ Tower or its structure, content enough when they felt the surge of magic emanating from the centre of their casting circle.

It was, that way, a big surprise when they turned around and saw that all of their stylized lamps, the ones that looked like spiders with their metal limbs, had turned into actual spiders twice the size of their heads, and were coming down in their direction.

The Committee never attempted to outsmart anyone from the Pilqvist clan ever again.

[yletylyf]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Thank you for the ask, this is lovely!

I'll respond with my five favorite published since I last posted about it, since repeats are boring. :) Also my true favorite right now is not published, it's for an exchange being revealed later, but we'll skip that one for now!

do you remember when - Sauron/Eonwe (the Silmarillion). I didn't expect to fall headlong into loving this ship when I first saw the prompt, but wow. I'm in love. They are perfect for each other I have so many feelings about them! I feel like I could write 100k more words on it! Thank you to the recip for asking for this lovely pair!

I must have done something good - Sirius/Severus (Harry Potter). I have been wanting to write this fic for ages! Each of them are pining at Jily's wedding, they hook up, and catch feelings. I love these two.

To catch a fox - the Darkling/Nikolai Lantsov (Grisha trilogy). Another ship I decided I was madly in love with the minute I saw the prompt! I had vaguely liked it before this, but throne sex and shenanigans at a masked ball really got to me. I have since written many more fics for this ship but this one remains my favorite!

Through Peril and Fire - Sauron (Halbrand)/Galadriel (LotR: Rings of Power). I'm just really proud of this one? I watched the season finale, loved it, and immediately said "I need an EtL fic for these two where they have to work together to save something or someone and learn some things along the way" and I sat down and did it and I think it's such a fun, tight plot with great romance. In my humble opinion. :)

The first moonrise - gen, Sauron & Maedhros (the Silmarillion). As I read it, Sauron is more of a manipulator in canon than a sadist. I wrote this version of Maedhros's captivity at Angband to match how I see Sauron's very subtle evil and also scream into the void about crazy Tolkien worldbuilding like "elves lived in the world for thousands of years before the sun rose when all the plants and animals were asleep." Ok, Tolkien, sure they did.

[izzy-b-hands]

Rewatching Metalocalypse in between episodes of OFMD and had the most haunting/stupid idea for a conversation between Toki and Ed

Because, in this musician's au I've got going on (there's a whole post I didn't get finished last night about a new fic draft for this I'm working on, with Dethklok and Ed's band (it's just him, Izzy, Fang, Ivan, and anyone else who occasionally circles through but doesn't stick around lol.) ) there are a lot of nice weird little pockets to fit in conversations that flit v quickly between serious to funny to oh that shouldn't be funny probably but it is a bit

And this is one of them that I just love so much. They've both got issues re: parents and dads, and had a hand in their father's deaths like. There's no easy fic intro into a conversation that in every iteration in my head goes something like:

"So," Toki flops on the couch by Ed. "I killeds my dads."

Ed frowns, and sets aside the magazine Pickles insisted he take right when he walked in, as 'a guest in their home.' "Okay. That's one way to start a conversation. I'm gonna counter with what the actual fuck? Why would you ask me that?"

Toki's eyes go wide. "You toos? I thoughts I was the only ones!"

Ed stares at the wall ahead of them, noting the flecks of dried blood as Toki hugs him tight enough to hurt. "Uh. Yeah. Yeah, I did. Not really the sort of thing I like to...we should go find Izzy and Pickles and see how the kitchen tour is going. We're here to write a song with you guys anyway, so maybe if we just get up to go do that and never talk about our dads or anyone's dads ever again-"

"You gets me," Toki interrupts softly, giving his torso another squeeze. "How does you feel abouts cats?"

---

And so on and so forth of Toki and Ed getting to know each other better on a surprisingly sweet and vulnerable level (legit I think Ed would fucking love Toki's models. They could make model ships together!)then scene cutting into whatever the kitchen tour entails and whether or not I'd want to take a stab at creating actual lyrics for a fic (spoiler alert, probably not, because I usually wimp out on doing that out of fear they'll be The Worst lmao.)

However, aside from writing it in the necessary way to try and match similar beats of a scene for OFMD and Metalocalypse, there's just. So much underneath there if I were to dip more ooc and write it just. Full breakdown (or rather, not so much ooc as the 'what would it take for him to say that' version of things) of Ed admitting yeah, he did kill his dad, Toki turning into a velcro guitarist hugging him to death, but instead of a few lighter but still personal shared details in dialogue then scene cut to Pickles and Izzy and the kitchen tour (aka Pickles uses the microwave and the oven to make homemade edibles on rare occasions, so they're just discussing how best to decarb different forms of weed for edibles. The kitchen staff aren't allowed to start working until they leave, and would badly like them to fuck off anywhere else), we just. Have the conversation. As painful and awkward as it might be for two dudes who really only kind of know each other on a business/work level that's edging towards 'actual interest in the other person'/friends level.

Ed can tell how he strangled his abusive father to save himself and his mum from having to live under his thumb any longer; Toki can tell about slipping and sending his cancer-ridden abusive dad to an icy watery grave after having literally just said he was forgiving him for everything he had done. Insert a bit there from Toki about his conflicted feelings re: did his dad even register that Toki was forgiving him before he was frozen and dead? And does it matter either way, now that he'll never know how his dad would have reacted to that forgiveness?

Does it fix every issue they have with their dads? Absolutely not, it's one conversation, not years of much needed therapy. But they have a cry over it and admit that it's incredibly lonely to be in their specific situations with their parents like that, whether the killing was an out of necessity on purpose (Ed) or more accidental (Toki, though he murmurs to Ed, almost whispers, that he knew how slippery it would get as he climbed higher up that mountain with his father in his arms. He could have slowed down, tried to be mindful of the snow and ice packing the treads of his boots. And he just wanted it all to be over with, but not like that. Not how it actually happened.)

I know the ppl interested in this part of the au are minimal but I just. have so much that keeps randomly hitting me that I'm dying to share on the off chance anyone else is interested fdsakjfl

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

i am dragging petrushka aurinkovich nureyev out from your tags bc WHAT EXCUSE ME WHAT I LOVE THIS??? I want a fic about this. a fic where Peter makes a name for himself, his own name, molded the way he wants it to be remembered, shaped how he wants, yet he's still peter, he's still nureyev, but he's also Aurinko. Petrushka Aurinkovich Nureyev. smth smth- Juno breathed life into his name, Peter gave him the most important thing he had to offer all those years ago, the Aurinko Crime Family is his family, Hyperion is his home in equal parts Brahma and New Kinshasa and the Outer Rim his home, and Buddy is NOT his mother is not a maternal/parental figure but she is important to him and she does lead this family he is a part of.

I DIGRESS- Juno putting aside his pettiness and being kind to Slip would be so much character growth. Juno from S1 could never. Juno knows that nureyev's journal was a careful curation and he knows that the "revolutionary Peter Nureyev" was also a careful curation. He knows to some extent that Peter dreams and that some, if not most, of what he knows about Peter has been the truth stretched out. So whatever version of Slip Peter put into the journal and whatever version Juno has in mind is bound to not match up at all. Peter talks him up as the coolest and wisest person ever. He's more likely to be a lil nerdy loser (affectionate). (also mista nureyev really does have a type doesn't he? i don't have the brain power for it rn but I'm sure it could be done to find all the parallels between slip and juno, smth smth foils? Is Slip Jackson a Juno Steel foil? idk not my problem rn at close to midnight)

And the way you described Nureyev honestly makes it sound like he's not just floundering he's disassociated(? that's not the right term i don't think but it's the closest i can get to what I'm thinking right now.) He's stuttering and stumbling for his footing and forced to unpack twenty years of filing away for future consideration. THE DREAM IS OVER PETYA BUT IT'S STILL OKAY THAT WE DREAMED IT!! twenty years of stress that's been eating him alive and guilt that's been knotted so tight around him he can't breathe- all gone. no executives. no dark matters. no GAS. he's been dreaming of this moment this whole time, and he doesn't know what to say or how to act (smth smth parallels to Juno "say it, say you never want to see me again- and oh shit you said it, i don't know what to do or feel anymore" Steel)

Miscellaneous things:

Rita would tell Slip all about the Freedom in Chains play and Juno's bad acting and he'd grumble about the whole thing but smile behind his hand

Would Slip even have an inkling of an idea who Buddy and Vespa are? They met about 20 years prior to Juno's Murderous Mask case, and in those 20 years Slip's been in a coma. Math and timeline unclear. I could obsess over this for a day if given the time

But also i think it funny Slip is put off by Buddy bc she calls Peter Pete and he clicks with Vespa and meanwhile Peter would later tell him "do you even know who they are?" because he used to idolize them, and Slip laughs until he realizes Peter is serious and "No. Are they important or something?"

Juno would talk fondly about Old Town and his love for his home, Slip would say something about getting to see it since they're on Mars, and Juno would have to tell him it's all gone. "Well it sounds like you have a lot of good memories, and that's what's important" and suddenly Juno understands why Peter thought Slip was so wise when they kids.

Juniper is such a good ship name, i don't see it happening, but it's still okay that we dreamed it etc etc- BUT IF IT DID HAPPEN!! Slip telling Nureyev "your lady friend- he looks good next to you" and Juno detecting it out "you still love him. I can't take that away from you" and Nureyev seeing how well they click and now there's a new thing eating at him "i love my girlfriend but i also love my boyfriend why can't we all be happy together". Shenanigans ensue.

it's just. the lock, the fucking lock right? the stim toy lock where the combination changes as you try to pick it. like we actually saw them do it, the executives scrambling the parameters to force him to keep up (also WHOOP right in tandem with the impact of the 'making radiation treatments free' thing!) but also there's this sense of it almost doesn't matter because it's literally their game and they can make him play along, nothing's going to give until they show their hand

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Drawing a Line on the Carpet

Summary: It's Y/N's first time alongside Jensen on the red carpet. She feels pretty exposed, but things could be worse, and they just might end up that way.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Light Smut. Brief fingering, lots of making out. Jensen being sexy af and also a complete badass. Brief violence. Slightly insecure plus-sized!reader.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N (Surprise cameo from a non SPN actor! 😉)

Word Count: 2.5k+

A/N: So, I’ve decided to do all 30 of these writing prompts. I may miss a day here and there, but I’m going to try to do one a day, and I will be completing all 30 no matter what.  They won’t always be in order.  This fic will be for the prompt: Write a scene that describes your MC well. I think this whole fic describes my version of Jensen very well. 😊

I will be putting together a Masterlist for all 30 prompts and adding it to my main Masterlist.

A/N 2: I have like three ongoing series, that I should be working on and 2 requests that are still waiting to be finished. (I'm SO sorry! They're coming - PROMISE!)

So, of course I had to write this Jensen RPF that absolutely no one asked for. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ But I couldn't help it, the idea flew into my head and I couldn't get it out. So -

TA DA!! 😝😝

As always, of course this story is about a Jensen from a different part of the multiverse, who is single.  This is a complete and utter work of fiction. 😊

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist || Tag Lists

Y/N stood in front of the full length mirror hanging on the hotel wall and nervously ran a hand down the tight fitting bodice of the emerald green, silk, sleeveless dress she was wearing. Although it fit more snugly than anything she usually wore, she was okay with the way the material clung to her torso and exposed a healthy, but acceptable, amount of cleavage.

It was the high slits that ran up the sides of both her legs, exposing her thick thighs, and even giving a peek at the swell of her hip, that had her leery and wanting to change out of it.

When she stood stock still, the material of the skirt hung closed. But as soon as she shifted at all, her legs were exposed. She frowned at her reflection and wondered if she really had the courage to wear it.

A low whistle from the doorway startled her, but she smiled as she caught Jensen's eye in the mirror. He was dressed in dark gray pants, an emerald green v-neck t-shirt to match her dress, over which he wore a perfectly tailored black suit jacket.

He looked stunning. Of course.

"Man," he said with a regretful shake of his head, "it's just too bad, I was really looking forward to going to this opening tonight."

Y/N frowned, disappointed. "What? Why can't we go? What happened?"

Jensen wandered up to stand behind her. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, his forearm draped over her chest, pinning her back against him, while he snaked his other arm around her waist.

"Well, we're never gonna make it on time since I plan on ripping this fucking dress off you, throwing you down on the bed and not letting you up for at least three or four hours. Movie's gonna be over by then."

He shrugged as though there was simply nothing he could do about it before sliding his hands up to wrap around her upper arms, holding her still while he nuzzled into her neck.

Her hair was swept up and pinned in place, so there was nothing to stop his searching lips as they nibbled and sucked along the column of her neck and across the curve of her shoulder.

"Mmmm...Jensen..." she breathed. "Jensen, stop. You are not giving me a hickey that I'm gonna have to try and cover up, like I'm a teenager who stayed out past curfew!"

"Pfft! Don't cover them up." Jensen scoffed and Y/N didn't miss the fact that he'd said, 'them'. He sucked and nipped at her skin, and despite her protests, Y/N tilted her head so he had easier access. "Let everyone see them, remind them that you're mine."

Y/N moaned lightly before finally ducking her head and lifting her shoulders so he couldn't keep trying to mark up her skin. She turned to face him and looped her arms around his neck. "I'm nervous enough about tonight; trying to hide a hickey is the last thing I need."

Jensen shook his head. "I told you, you have nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart."

Y/N snorted. "Yeah, easy for you to say, you've walked down the red carpet hundreds of times." She sighed deeply. "Not really something an accountant gets the chance to do very often."

Jensen pulled her close and slid his hands through the slits of the dress giving her a light slap on the ass that made her gasp, before he grabbed up her fleshiness in both hands and squeezed, turning her gasp into a deep moan.

"That's because most accountants don't look this fucking hot in silk."

He dipped his mouth to hers, and thrust his tongue past her lips, licking up into her, greedily swallowing down her moans and stealing her breath.

He pushed her backwards until she was pressed up against the mirror, then pulled back slightly, panting into her mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N, you better tell me to stop or I swear to god, I really am gonna rip this to shreds and fuck you right here, where I can see you from every angle."

He spun her around so that she was facing the mirror, her hands splayed against it, bracing herself. Jensen's hands covered hers and he encased her completely within the muscular circle of his arms. His breath was hot and damp on the side of her neck.

All of a sudden there was a knock on their hotel room door and the hotel concierge could be heard on the other side.

"Mr. Ackles, Ms. Y/L/N? Your limousine is here."

Jensen's groan turned into a growl. "Maybe he'll just go away." He panted roughly into her ear.

But the man was persistent, knocking again.

"Mr. Ackles?" He called again, and Jensen finally pushed away from Y/N to call back to him.

"Thanks, be there in five!"

Y/N giggled at the way Jensen's cheerful voice did not match the look of death he was shooting the man on the other side of the door.

She pushed away from the mirror and checked her reflection. She was slightly flushed and she'd have to reapply her lipstick in the limo, but otherwise she'd survived her boyfriend's ravaging fairly intact.

Jensen straightened his suit jacket and Y/N reached up to wipe away the smeared red lipstick on his mouth.

"Mmm..."Jensen nodded. "Thanks."

She smiled teasingly at him. "Of course. Can't let people see I've been ravishing you."

Jensen growled again and playfully nipped at her fingers as she thumbed across his lips, making her squeal and yank her hand back.

He grabbed up her wrap from the chair and guided her forward and out the door, with a hand at the small of her back.

As they passed through the door, he whispered low in her ear. "Just wait till we get back here tonight. Then we'll see who'll be ravishing who."

***

As they stepped out of the limousine and a million flashes started going off, every single one of Y/N's fears and dislikes about herself came screaming to the front of her mind.

On a day-to-day basis Y/N had learned to love her body just as it was, and was okay with how she looked. She knew she'd never be considered supermodel material - she was short, her arms were too chubby and her thighs weren't the right kind of thick, her ass was too wide, and her waist wasn't non-existent.

But as she'd matured and grown she'd come to simply accept herself; her body may not fit conventional beauty standards, but it was strong and healthy and she was content in it.

However, with so many eyes on her, in a dress that was much more revealing than she was used to, she could feel old remnants of body issues popping up in her mind.

But Jensen had hold of her hand as they walked towards the beginning of the red carpet, and she squeezed it a little tighter as she saw the incredibly long line of photographers just waiting to get their shots.

Jensen pulled her into his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down her arm. He leaned down to kiss her temple and spoke quietly.

"You're doing fabulous, sweetheart. You look absolutely stunning. Just smile naturally and breathe. We're good."

Y/N wrapped her arm around his waist and took his advice, letting her mind get caught up in the fun, instead of the fear.

Jensen knew a few of the photographers by name and he'd waved and shouted out greetings over the noise when he saw them.

Things were good; but about halfway down the carpet, things went very wrong.

As they reached the halfway point, all of a sudden Jensen cursed quietly beneath his breath. But the guy next to them on the carpet, an actor she sort of recognized, was more vocal about his displeasure.

"Fuck me! Drummond is here? Who the hell keeps giving that asshole a press pass?"

Y/N looked where the two men had been staring but she couldn't tell which person they had the problem with at first. But then a tall guy with a medium build and a pointed face began calling out to Jensen.

"Hey Ackles! Back on the red carpet again, huh? Still not here for your own stuff though!" Drummond chuckled.

Jensen ignored him and kept smiling, but Y/N was frowning at him. His words had the cadence of teasing, but there was something mean-spirited layered underneath. Then Y/N realized what it was; this dude was oozing jealousy.

As they continued down the line, moving about two feet at a time, stopping while the pictures were taken and then shuffling further along, the so-called photographer wouldn't stop shouting out "teasing" digs towards Jensen.

Every once and a while Drummond would shout something at the guy beside them too, who began talking to a publicist, trying to see about getting the heckler tossed, but Jensen shook his head at him.

"Don't give him the satisfaction, man. You'll just give him a bullshit story to run with. He wants to piss you off so he can snap an angry picture and say you were an asshole. Just pretend he isn't there."

His fellow actor agreed, but Y/N found it increasingly tough to follow suit. At one point, as they were finally starting to pass him, he asked Jensen what role Kripke was gonna lob his way next.

"I mean, he's pretty much the only reason you've got a career, huh?"

Jensen had to tighten his grip around Y/N's waist to stop her from storming forward and smacking the douchebag across the face. "Not worth it." He reminded her in her ear.

Finally they'd moved a few feet away from him, nearly past him completely, and he was getting desperate.

So, he shifted his focus.

"Who's your chubster date, Ackles? Is she related to someone important? Is bangin' her part of your five year plan to kickstart your career?"

Y/N felt like she'd been slapped, her cheeks burned with humiliation. But she was immediately aware of Jensen's body going rigid beside her.

For the first time since he'd started heckling them, Drummond had Jensen's full and undivided attention.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Jensen asked as he moved back towards the paparazzo. His arm crossed over Y/N's body and he tucked her behind him as he moved towards his target.

"Oh, come on, man! I'm just messing with you. What, you can't take a joke?" Drummond guffawed as he lifted his camera to snap the picture he'd been angling for the whole time.

Y/N pulled on Jensen's arm as she noticed. "Not worth it." She reminded him, but Jensen seemed to not even hear her as he stalked closer to Drummond.

"I'm giving you fair warning right now asshole, you utter one more word that has anything to do with my girlfriend, and I will knock your fucking teeth out of your filthy goddamn mouth. You understand me?"

Drummond wore an expression that was half gleeful at finally having wrought the reaction he wanted, and half terrified of the towering Texan issuing his warning.

Y/N moved up beside Jensen again, pushing slightly on his bicep. He didn't budge.

"Jensen, come on honey. He's not worth this shit."

"Ooh, the lady coming to the rescue. But you don't have to pull him away so soon, Chubbs, we're just chatting." Drummond cooed at Y/N, reaching over the metal barrier to grab her arm and try to hold her there.

Within seconds Jensen's fist was smashed into the photographer's face with a sickening crunch that told Y/N that his teeth might actually be loosened, and his nose was definitely broken.

He immediately let go of her arm and before he could even screech out his indignation and pain, Jensen's other fist was twisted up in his shirt front.

"I fucking dare you you to touch her again!' He roared at him. As the crowd around them seemed to finally cotton on to what was happening, camera flashes were suddenly all focused on them.

Security, and the actor who'd been beside them, leapt at Jensen to pull him off, but they couldn't seem to.

It wasn't until Drummond started blubbering and holding up his hands in front of him, that Jensen finally tossed him away in disgust and shook off the men trying to hold him.

He turned to Y/N who stood in shock, just silently trying to process what had just happened.

"Are you alright? Y/N?" He cupped her cheek, "Baby, are you good?"

She nodded absently and he grabbed hold of her hand as they were hustled out of the line and into the theatre. They went through back entrances and narrow, staff only hallways, and she was only vaguely aware of what was happening, letting them shuffle her along.

Finally she and Jensen were put into what seemed to be a cozy staff lunch room, coffee makers and squishy couches sat around the room and Y/N dropped onto the nearest one.

A minute later Jensen got down on his haunches in front of her and pressed a warm paper cup into her hand and she slipped the creamy coffee, letting it help her focus.

"How are you, sweetheart?"

Y/N shook her head and took hold of his hand, running her thumb gently over the bruises she could see forming there, under the red scrapes.

"How am I? How are you? Does it hurt?" She asked bringing them to her lips for a gentle kiss.

"No, they're fine." Jensen said, dismissively waving his other hand.

Before they could say more, a middle-aged man in a neatly pressed suit came in and Jensen stood up to greet him.

"Hello, Mr Ackles." The man said as he shook Jensen's hand. "My name is Tom Gentry and I'm the manager here. The police are here to have a word with you about what went down. They're gathering other's accounts as well. But they'd like to speak with you and Ms. Y/L/N separately."

Jensen looked down at Y/N and she nodded, giving him a smile to try and ease the lines of worry on his brow.

She looked to the manager. "Yes, that's fine."

"Follow me, Mr. Ackles, and the officers will be in momentarily, Ms. Y/L/N."

Y/N nodded again and Jensen kissed the top of her head. "Be back right away, sweetheart."

The cops who came in to talk with her were brusque but not rude. They asked their questions bluntly, but let her answer in full, simply making notes and nodding. It didn't take her long to give her version of what happened and they thanked her and left.

She waited another ten minutes before Jensen came back into the room. She stood up when he entered and he opened his arms as he reached her in only a few bow-legged strides. She stepped into them gratefully, shivering slightly as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her bare shoulders, before pulling her tight against him.

"The cops are finished with us for now. So, let's get out of here, what d'ya say?"

Y/N nodded and followed along blindly. And before she knew it, they were back in the hotel room.

She dropped Jensen's suit jacket on the couch and wandered towards the bedroom. Jensen followed.

She sat in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and Jensen sat on the corner of the bed, facing her.

After a minute, he spoke quietly. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Y/N tried for a smile, but didn't quite manage it. She shook her head. "I'm thinking...that...I don't know what to think."

Jensen's jaw clenched. "Did I scare you?"

Y/N was about to deny it, but then she realized that would be a lie. She shrugged. "A little I guess. I've never seen you like that." She frowned at him. "Where did that come from? I mean -".

"He put hands on you."

Y/N felt her breath catch at the look of ferocious intensity that was back in his eyes.

"I wasn't about to let that stand." He said in a deadly calm voice and she suddenly realized that a part of Dean really did live inside Jensen.

She shook her head. "But Jensen, you know that asshole is gonna press charges. Something like this could really put a dent in your career. He could make people think you've got some kind of terrible temper, that you'd be awful to work with, or even dangerous on sets."

Her voice was full of worry as she continued. "Speaking as one of the accountants at your agency, if I was there right now, I'd be telling them they're bound to lose money on this. You could lose potential roles, you're gonna lose -"

"I don't care about any of that shit, Y/N." He interrupted again. "I did what I did and I don't regret it for a second. The only thing I care about losing, is you."

A look of sadness came into his eyes and it broke her heart. "Have I lost you?"

Y/N's eyes widened. "What? What do you mean? Why would you lose me?"

Jensen scowled darkly. "I exposed you to that shit, to pigs like Drummond. He was cruel to you just to get at me." He shrugged. "And I scared you with how I acted. I'm not sorry about breaking his nose, but I am sorry about that."

Y/N stood up from the chair and moved to stand between his legs, leaning against him, and clasping her hands on the sides of his neck.

"Jensen, you startled me, more than scared me. It was just surprising to see that side of you. I know how calm you always are; so few things ever rattle you. I mean, you took his insults and taunting that entire time, without batting an eye. Meanwhile I wanted to fucking strangle him."

Jensen's mouth quirked up in the half smile she loved so much. She kissed his lips gently, briefly. A sad smile clung to her lips as she pulled back.

"As for him saying mean things to me..." she shrugged, "Well, sweetie, he's hardly the first and he certainly won't be the last asshole to judge me based solely on some bullshit beauty standards that exist in their own heads."

As Jensen looked up at her, she slid her palms up to grip his scruffy cheeks. "But I don't care about what he thinks. Or at least, I try not to. The only man's opinion I care about is yours, and," she patted her hair, "I know you think I'm hot right?" She said, her teasing grin not quite hiding the slight apprehension that colored her words.

She watched the passion and desire slide into Jensen's features the way it had so many times before, and her apprehension melted away.

He leaned forward to press kisses across her cleavage, his face being perfectly level with her breasts, before pulling her down to sit on his lap.

"You're the hottest fucking woman I've ever had in my arms and the only one who can make me hard instantly."

He pulled her hand to rest on his cock that was straining behind the fine material of his dress pants.

She bit into her lip, and whined loudly as he reached into the slit of her dress and shoved her thong aside so he could run two fingers through the wetness that pooled at her center.

"Fuck, Jensen!" She said in a voice made harsh by desire.

"Good idea, sweetheart. I believe I had plans to rip this dress off of you."

Y/N opened her eyes. "Jensen Ross Ackles, don't you dare!"

She was trying hard to see past her thrumming need to have him shred the dress to pieces, throw her onto the bed and fuck her into the mattress.

"Well then, darlin', you've got about 30 seconds to get out of it before I turn it into rags."

When Y/N didn't move fast enough Jensen started counting.

"One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three -"

Y/N squealed and started reaching for the zipper.

***

The next morning they sat in bed with the room service tray between them. As they finished up their breakfast, Jensen sighed.

"Well, shall we?"

They'd both turned their phones off last night, vowing to avoid the mess until the next day.

Y/N shrugged. "I guess we'd better."

Their phones beeped on and Y/N took a deep breath. She had dozens and dozens of text messages and social media notifications. She noticed that the vast majority of notifications seemed to point her to a specific Twitter thread. She clicked on it, just as Jensen chuckled beside her.

"Huh. I'll be damned." He said, mostly to himself.

She looked over to see he was clicked on the same thread and she started reading it on his phone. The thread was from the Twitter account of Chris Evans.

"That's who he was!" Y/N said out loud, finally recognizing the actor that had been beside them on the red carpet the night before.

Jensen looked at her incredulously. "You didn't recognize Chris? He's like, one of the most famous actors in the world!"

Y/N shrugged. "I knew he looked familiar. I was just too busy staring at my hot date!"

Jensen was still chuckling at her lack of Hollywood savvy as she picked up her own phone to read the thread.

Most of it was just a straightforward account of exactly how things had transpired, and an indictment of the entertainment industry in general for constantly letting men like Drummond get away with it.

Y/N noticed that Chris never repeated the gross, insulting things Drummond had said about her, simply stating that the paparazzo made misogynistic and body-shaming comments towards her.

The final two tweets in the thread, made Y/N get a little teary-eyed and made her even prouder to be dating the remarkable man next to her.

~~~~~~~

In closing, I'll just say this. I've known Jensen for more than 20 yrs in this business. We've never had the chance to hang out a lot, very unfortunately. But back in the day, we went up against each other for a lot of roles, and I'll be forever grateful he was too busy and stepped away, letting me take on the role of Cap. Whatever he says, I know he was a serious contender.

But throughout these 20 yrs I've been lucky enough to talk with him, and get to know him a little. He is always respectful, was always a gracious winner when the role went to him, and a good sport when I lucked out and got it. I've never seen him be anything but patient, calm and a true gentleman. Which should give some indication of just how disgusting the actions of this so-called photographer really were. For whatever it's worth, I think Jensen was completely in the right here, and I applaud his actions. @ jensenackles you're a badass, my friend.

~~~~~~

Jensen was smiling at his phone as Y/N finished reading. "Wow." She said simply.

"Yeah, he's a good dude." Jensen said with a nod. "That was really nice of him, and it seems to have made a pretty big difference. My phone is slammed with requests for interviews to talk about my 'heroic actions'."

Jensen shook his head and chuckled. "Man, this town is something else."

Y/N was beaming. "I'm so happy the truth is out there and that you're coming out on the right side of this."

She pushed his phone away and kissed him lightly. "I never did thank you, did I? For standing up for me?"

A wicked smile spread across Jensen's face and he pulled her close for a deeper kiss. They broke apart panting and Jensen cleared his throat.

"I'd say you thanked me plenty last night."

Y/N punched him lightly on the arm. "Well, if I remember correctly, you thanked me first, and then you thanked me again," she nibbled on his succulent bottom lip, "and again and again and again!"

"And again!" Jensen growled as he rolled her onto her back, knocking the breakfast tray to the ground.

Y/N giggled breathlessly and then moaned loudly as Jensen's mouth attached itself to her pulse point.

"You are very welcome, Mr. Ackles. Mmmm...my hero!"

1. Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@siospins2

@impalaslytherin

@akshi8278

@maggiegirl17

@candy-coated-misery0731

@nt-multi-fandom

@slytherinlyn314

3. Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

4. Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@awkward-and-indecisive

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@b3autyfuldisast3r

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@fangirlxwritesx67

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@mysherlock221b

@jensensgotyoudean

@stixnstripesworld

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@norman1967

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy

@b-i-t-c-h-i-e

@twirpbunwarrior

@mysweetlittledesire

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

[angy-mouse]

bestie i am on my knees for some demon!dream fluff ,, shopping/spoiling reader perhaps ..

demon!dream in this series starts out as 'ugh, this contract is such a waste of my time' to 'oh i kinda like this little human and they really need my help' to 'THIS IS MY PRECIOUS HUMAN AND IF ANYONE (besides sapnap and george) TOUCHES THEM I WILL CUT YOUR FUCKING DICK OFF AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR- ooh, baby, you look so amazing try this on for me next? :)))'

I feel like yall dont understand this was a whole ass fic in the making before i made this blog. like 20+ chapters projected. I had a whole ass organizer

...anyways, here's Dream trying to get you to let him spoil you!

“Come on, baby, we’re going out.” You startled at the comment, looking over to where Dream threw open your closet and started sifting through your clothes.

“What?”

“Here, wear this for me,” he instructed, ignoring your question and handing you a black skirt and a green shirt. “Where do you keep those fishnets I got you?”

“In the drawer- why are we going out? Where are we going?” He faltered with the tights in hand, giving you a wide, fang-bearing grin.

“We’re going shopping, baby,” he chirped. “Come on, I want you to wear my color so everyone knows you’re mine.” He pulled you out of your chair and tugged at your clothes, practically preening as you lifted your arms and let him undress you. You sometimes thought he wasn’t actually a fallen angel, he was just a big bird who wanted to preen you and dress you in shiny things. He helped you into the outfit he picked, glowing in pride when he was done. “There’s my pretty girl! Let’s go, baby.”

“Wait, Dream,” you scoffed, grabbing his wrist and pulling him to a stop. Well, more like you silently told him to stop and he chose to listen out of politeness instead of dragging you along. “Can you even go out in public?”

He blinked at you before grinning slyly. “Oh, pretty thing,” he cooed, cupping your cheek and leaning down for a kiss. You kissed back despite your confusion, gasping when he pulled away and you were looking at a human version of your beloved demon. “Sometimes I think there’s nothing in that little head of yours,” the now six foot-ish man teased, wheezing at your shocked look. “You should see your face right now!”

You scoffed and smacked him on the chest. “You turned into an entirely different person, asshole! What the hell?”

Dream easily shrugged off your half-hearted hits, running a hand through his hair without his beautiful horns in the way. His ragged but impressive wings were gone and he’d lost a good foot of his height, making the room feel much bigger. His clothes had changed, too, you realized. Gone were his demon garments- instead he wore a simple outfit of jeans, a green t-shirt, a black button up that he left open, and of course plenty of gold jewelry. You felt a blush heat your face as he realized he’d made the two of you match. “Come on, doll, even the most average of human mages can cast a rudimentary glamour spell.” He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest. He dipped his head forward to brush his nose against yours. “Now will you please let me take you out so I can show you off and treat you like the goddess you are?” He could see you debating it. “I promise to behave, doll, it’d do me no good to get us kicked out.”

“...Okay,” you agreed, “but I don’t need anything.”

He scoffed, reaching up to take off one of his necklaces and drape it around your neck. “No one needs anything in this world, sweetheart. But you, my pretty little thing,” he grinned as you giggled from him rubbing your noses together in a bunny kiss. “You deserve the world. So, really, the least you could do is allow me to buy you some nice things and take you for a decent meal.”

“Oh, uh-huh, sure, this is all doing you a favor,” you chuckled, sarcasm dripping from your voice that he drank up.

“Exactly! Now come along, doll, if you don’t come home with at least four new outfits I’ve failed my duty!”

[alpacaparkaseok]

Heartbreak Ave.

When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)

→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking

→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics​ brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!

read the maknae line version here!

Kim Seokjin

he’s not surprised

it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room. 

he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in

and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin

and Jin just watched, not surprised. 

although what does surprise him is how much it hurts

that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away

and it doesn’t go away

it doesn’t fade

so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up

Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall

“Does Tae like her?”

Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out

but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush

and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible  even as unshed tears glimmer 

“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.

and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach

Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart

“I’d do anything for her.”

no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final. 

because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him. 

he lost. 

he loved, and he lost.

Min Yoongi

you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train

sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand

because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess

when did he fall in love with you?

it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi

for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization

he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters

it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway

“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”

and he laughs. 

quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever. 

because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain. 

he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.

so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?

he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake

“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”

his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile

and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch

and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.

it’s startlingly simple: 

he wants to cry. 

so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry. 

then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.

and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all. 

because he still loves you

and you will never know.

Jung Hoseok

hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions

he keeps them on lockdown

monitors them with military-like focus

so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you

(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)

and he knows the exact second when he fell in love

(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)

(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)

(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)

if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting

to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret

so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in

and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands

“hey” he breathes

you stare at the flowers, then at him

“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”

hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours 

it’s electrifying, that small touch

and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick

pale face, concerned expression

he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.

gotta get this out of the way

ugh, feelings

and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes

and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet

not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection

so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it

he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own

you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy

so he does the job for you

“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”

you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”

“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”

you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”

he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”

and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy. 

and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions. 

later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain. 

he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower. 

he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right. 

Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.

Kim Namjoon

he’s told you he loves you a million times now

every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you

adores you with everything he is

you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across

he's never been like this before

never, he’s sure of it

and everyone knows, except for you.

it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression

Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed

but you have no idea

or are you just willfully ignorant?

all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning

but, oh, what a way to die

he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you

and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up

so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay

“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”

and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn

he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him

it’s like he physically can’t

“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt. 

you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.

“just keep your snoring in check, loser”

and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed

you’re so far away

why are you so far away?

“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night

“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him

he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.

and he wants to kiss you so badly

so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back

and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline. 

you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest

because to be honest, you’re confused 

why is he looking at you like that?

but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression

your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing

your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss

and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!! 

but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away

“namjoon.”

he’s never hated his name so much.

“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”

“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look. 

because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips. 

“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”

and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you. 

“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid

“...Jungkook.”

two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him. 

namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”

and he’s gone before you can utter another word. 

sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”

Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips. 

“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”

because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?

--

m.list || buy me an orange juice?

thanks for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so other people can read it! 💖

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[donutloverxo]

Baking w/ Steve

*gif is not mine*

Steve's goodies taste really sweet. Can you use it as a substitute for frosting though? Steve Rogers x donut!reader. Dividers by @chrissquares.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), daddy kink, housewife kink, cum kink, Steve has sweet cum, weird fic.

Word count - 1k

7 days of ficmas

You swatted Steve’s hand away as he tried to steal a cookie from your cooling rack, giving him a pointed glare, “No. Have some patience” you reprimanded him before going back to working on your vanilla frosting--Steve's favorite.

“Just one?” he requested, “I’ll be your taste tester!”

You hummed, he was too cute for you to say no to, but the cookies need to cool before you put any icing on them and you wanted them to be perfect.

Steve had asked for a box of cookies baked by you as a Christmas present, and that made you feel fuzzy. Because the fact that he liked your baking so much, a hobby of yours, was a nice compliment.

Except there was a catch.

You were to wear nothing but your frilly 50s style pink apron he had gotten you as an early Christmas gift, and oven gloves, while baking them.

And that he gets to ‘help’. His version of help being staring at your bare ass, and your titts which peaked out of the apron when you moved, and occasionally groping at them.

You suspected it was because he just liked to feel like he was your ‘provider' and you his sweet little housewife. And since he did provide quite a lot for you, you decided to indulge him a bit.

You looked down at your frosting, dipping a finger in it to get a taste, you had used real vanilla beans so it tasted perfect.

Eerily familiar...

You looked at Steve who was too entranced by the YouTube video recipe you were following, for a second your filthy mind thought about using that as a frosting.

As nice as your vanilla one was, it didn’t have Steve’s essence. Nothing would ever taste as good as your daddy’s creamy goodies.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he caught you looking at him.

“Um...” you almost contemplated asking him to give you his goodies to use as icing. The serum makes him come a lot, even gives it a sweet aftertaste that you love, he could definitely give you enough for one batch...

He pulled you closer to him, both his hands resting on your lower back, “What’s up, pup?”

“Well!” you huffed, trying your best to appear angry, “When you said you wanted me naked I thought you’d do something about it and about me! But you’re just standing there staring at me and eating my cookies. Am I not enticing enough?”

“Oh, honey. If I had my way I’d be eating you all day long,” he smiled, pecking the top of your forehead, before pushing you against the marble counter, rutting his erection into your ass, making you stand on your tippy toes to match his taller height.

“But unlike you, I have patience. I was going to show you a good time after you were done. But I guess you can have your playtime now,” he said as his nimble fingers played with your drenched folds, pressing two fingers deep into you till they hit that spongy spot inside you that made you squirm.

You whined, wiggling your hips to get more of his fingers, they were nothing compared to his monster cock and you needed more, “Daddy!” you whined when he didn’t move at all.

He gave your plump behind a harsh slap, “Now, puppy, stop being so bratty, it’s not very ladylike. You need to be more obedient,” he teased, though he’d never want you to be truly obedient and take your spark away, that’d just make life dull, “and accept what’s given to you with a thank you and a smile.”

“Yes, daddy,” you nodded eagerly, ready to do anything if it meant you get fucked the way you wanted. You sighed as you felt him enter you, it was always quite a task to take all of him, even though you weren’t a virgin anymore.

“That’s a good girl,” he held onto your hips, since you had a habit of squirming a bit too much for his liking.

“My perfect little doll,” he said, fucking into your tight cunt, biting the shell of your ear and holding onto your soft breast, still careful as to not knock over any cookies you worked so hard on.

“It’s so big!” you cried out, almost too big to take, but it hurts you in a way that made you see stars. “I’m gonna come, daddy,” you sniffed as tears streamed down your face, clenching around his length as your climax washed over you.

“Your pussy was just made for me,” he growled, his thrusts getting sloppy, his balls tightening, your orgasm triggering his own as he got ready to fill you up and leave you full of his cum to work on the rest of his cookies.

“No, no, wait!” you panted, digging your nails into his hips to stop him, “I--I want it in my mouth,” you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Steve chuckled, his hot breath tickling the back of your neck, “Say the magic word, pup.”

“Please, daddy?” you looked over your shoulder, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“Alright, pup,” he relented, pulling his hard cock out of you, you knew he’d much rather prefer coming in your pussy. “On your knees,” he commanded.

You hastily knelt before him, opening your mouth and reaching for his cock but he swatted your hand away.

“Hands behind your back,” he told you.

You pouted but followed anyway, waiting patiently as he entered your mouth, slowly fucking into you as you hummed around him, your mind hazy, surrounded by the scent and the taste of him, with his heavy weight on your tongue as you tried to relax your throat best you could to take more of him.

He pulled out of you till only his tip was on your tongue, stroking his length as he released in your mouth. You made sure to slurp as much of it up as you could, savoring the subtly sugary taste, it was the best kind of dessert.

You licked your lips and the corners of your mouth to make sure you got all of it as he pulled out of you, before looking up at him, fluttering your lashes innocently, “Thank you, daddy,” you said with a hazy smile.

[filmflowersbangtan]

Dead of Night (preview)

pairing: gang member!jungkook x reader

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: swearing | drug mention | gangs | in the full story, there will be violence, blood, fighting, threatening 

preview word count: 4k

you meet jungkook in a diner in the early morning where it’s just the two of you in the entire place. An interesting relationship ensues, and you find out he’s not who you thought he was. He’s a prominent member of the city’s most powerful gang, surrounded by danger and trouble. But you still want him.

--

author’s note: I sincerely apologize for being gone for so long and for not updating any of my fics. To everyone waiting on IMSWY pt. ii: I am so sorry for taking so long with it. It’s still in my WIPs, and I haven’t given up on it yet, but it is on the back burner right now since I have many other ideas bubbling up that I absolutely have to write or else they will probably internally set me aflame (lol). 

I will be deleting many of my fics soon. I will be keeping “Unbound,” “I Must Still Want You,” “Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold,” and “Lonely Planets.” Everything else I will be deleting because I have no desire to finish working on them or I simply do not like them anymore and can’t see them going anywhere.

I also will probably not be writing anymore series. Everything will most likely be one shot because every time I start a series, I get too overwhelmed with the idea of updating parts and finishing them that I just end up postponing them for too long and leaving too many people who have been looking forward to them disappointed. I do want to say that I have been going through So Much since I last posted Lonely Planets pt. ii and IMSWY, but I am in a so so so much better place now. That’s why I’m even writing this story now.

This will be a oneshot. It will not be a series. It will be very long. I am almost finished with it, but I am posting this preview just to see if you all would like to continue reading it.

Thank you all. I appreciate all the feedback and the follows and the reblogs so, so much. The feedback and the reblogs of Heartbreaker with a Heart of Gold is what really motivated me to write this one. I hope you all enjoy it. 😊

--

Being alone was like an addiction. It was fulfilling and appealing and…well, lonely. 

Two in the morning diner stops during the weekdays had become routine. The place was completely empty save for a waitress and a cook and maybe a tired trucker. You tucked yourself in a booth in the back. The vinyl seats were cracked and uncomfortable, the lighting was stark and washed everything raw. But it was comforting. Sleep was evasive and your apartment was barely unpacked, boxes stacked haphazardly in the dining area and the mattress on the living room floor. It was your idea to move to this vast city far away from home. This city swallowed everything in its incessant noise. Nocturnal and teeming with cars and neon lights. It never rested and the two of you had that in common. You took solace in that. 

The air was thick with bacon grease and bitter black coffee. Every morning you had waffles and orange juice. The refills were free and the waffles were the exact same circumference as the plate underneath it. Time was stagnant here. The city pressed against the plate glass windows, but the reflections from inside barred its entry. If you looked out, you simply stared directly at yourself. Maybe there was some kind of metaphor in that. 

The night shift waitress, Bethany, set your plate of steaming waffles on the table as well as a glass syrup dispenser. She knew you by name and you thanked her for the food. She smiled sweetly and left you be. 

The door chimed, denoting the entry of another patron. You didn’t look up. Bethany greeted the person in her cheerful customer service voice. You knew she didn’t actually sound like that. Once, you glimpsed her smoking a cigarette by the dumpster at the back of the diner arguing with her boyfriend on her cell phone. She had a tired voice. You wondered if she was lonely, too.

As you ate, Bethany took the patron’s order. From where you sat, his voice was a mumble. “You got it!” Bethany said before breezing away.

You glanced up from your food at the patron. Hair dyed blond, dark brown at the roots. He had a gentle face and a mouth made for smiling or furtively suppressing them. Tattoos were stippled on his arm all the way down to his knuckles. He was staring down at his phone, his fingers were slender and embellished with many silver rings. He was impossibly handsome. A paragon of beauty. 

And he looked up. Right at you. Why was it at that moment you happened to notice him, he decided to notice you, too?

Your scalp prickled with hot embarrassment. You immediately averted your eyes back to your waffles. There was only a bite remaining. Good. You could finish, get your check, pay, and leave.

Boldly, you chanced another glimpse. He did, too. This time, a smile, broad and lovely, stretched across his face. It was endearing and intimate and you had never felt so seen. It was exhilarating. A small smile crept onto your mouth. You couldn’t help it. His smile was contagious. 

This was how the following hour went. Weighted glances and secret smiles from across the room. He received his food, and he picked up his plate and mug of coffee and…was he coming this way?

You watched him, eyes wide, as he sauntered over to your booth and set his items on your table. “May I sit?” he said. His voice was the perfect match to his face. Smooth, sonorous, soft. Crushed velvet. 

Jerkily, like you had never done it before, you nodded. He sat. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” you replied. 

“I’m Jungkook.”

You told him your name. He repeated it once, twice, thrice. Like he enjoyed the feel of it in his mouth, rolling it around like a piece of hard candy he didn’t want to dissolve on his tongue just yet. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached his hand over the table. You smiled and shook it. 

His plate was piled with pancakes and sausages and scrambled eggs. He dug in. In between bites, he asked, “So what brings you here at this time of night?” “I have trouble sleeping. And you?” Your chest was tight with the awkwardness of it all, but he appeared to be perfectly at ease. 

“I’m just a night owl. Or I’m a vampire.” He shrugged nonchalantly as he continued eating.

Surprisingly, laughter bubbled from you until you couldn’t help the giggles that shook you. How long had it been since you had a conversation with anyone? Your store had been a drought for the past month, only a couple of people coming in a day. You didn’t call home because your parents would ask how you’ve been, and that topic lit a fire in your skull. Bethany was just a waitress doing her job. And Nora was always busy. It was refreshing to have someone sit with you. Talk with you. Want to be near you. 

His eyes danced at the sound of your laughter. It was an innocuous expression, boyish in how pure it was. 

You covered your mouth with your hands to mask the laughter. And he gently grabbed your wrist and removed them. “I like your laugh.”

Butterflies unfurled their wings in your stomach and fluttered in a frantic cluster. He resumed his meal as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

You cleared your throat. “I own a used book and record store downtown. It’s small and kind of hidden from the street, but it’s there.” You chuckled nervously. You were proud of that store, but you might have to close it down soon and return to your hometown with your tail tucked in between your legs if the revenue continued as it did. 

His eyebrows shot up. “Wow. That’s super cool. I like records. Books, not so much. Where is it located?”

You told him the address. “By that bodega on the corner.”

“The one that sells the really good blue raspberry shaved ice?”

You snapped your fingers. “That’s the one.”

“I’ll definitely have to stop by.” 

This was how the next few hours went. Talking about everything and nothing. He had lived in the city his entire life, worked as a freelance artist, had an apartment not too far away. Plates had been swept away by Bethany long ago. Refills poured, drained, and poured again.

And then, “Do you maybe want to get out of here? Kick it at my place?” Jungkook asked. His expression was open and genuine. 

You didn’t know if that was a good idea. But talking to him was stimulating and you didn’t want it to end. 

He noticed your hesitation. “Turn you location on your phone, I’ll even give you my address so you can send it to your friends. Anything to make you feel comfortable.”

He was right. He didn’t live that far. It was barely past five o’ clock in the morning, the city was still awake, billboards alight. The buildings towered, dark against the predawn blue of the sky. The apartment building was modest and typical of the city. Clean and affordable but just expensive enough to be appealing to a specific demographic of college students and those with decent enough jobs. His apartment was on the third floor and was charming with brick walls and high ceilings. There was a bookshelf packed with vinyl records, even more in milk crates. A record player in pristine condition sat on an end table beside an armchair. 

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Jungkook said, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the front door. 

“You said you liked records,” you replied, browsing his collection. 

“I did.”

“This isn’t liking records. This is a goddamn treasure trove.” You pushed your hair behind your ear, eager to move it from your face. “Bowie, Billie Holiday, Bob Dylan, Prince. You even have a rare version of Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland. With the naked women! This is incredible.” 

He laughed. “I see you are a woman of taste.” 

“If only my dad could see this. I’m afraid to touch anything.” 

“I’m sure you don’t have clumsy hands with records. Since you have a record store and all.”

You laughed. “I appreciate the trust.”

“So what would you like to listen to?”

You mulled it over, taking your time examining the sleeves of the records. Then you found one.

He smiled when you showed him the cover art. “Perfect.” 

Frank Ocean’s Blond. A modern classic. Perfect for the liminal hour of five AM. 

Jungkook slipped it from its sleeve, fingers on the slim rounded edges of the record. He carefully settled it on the turntable, placed the needle on the disc, and played the album. There was the classic crackle of vinyl, and then the first track emanated. It was a phantasm of sound, rich and ethereal. Light but weighted. The song was the deep blue of the sky before the sun decided to pull itself above the horizon and emblazon the sky with its myriad of colors. It was the perfect song for this liquid moment that felt like a dream. This beautiful stranger standing before you with his incredible collection. 

And then you were in Jungkook’s arms, slowly swaying to the music. You smiled up at him and him down at you. 

The album continued on in the living room, serenading to no one. You and Jungkook had moved to the bedroom, lounging on the bed. The horizon blushed peach, casting the room in half-light. You both lay on your backs, him with an arm slung casually behind his head, you with your hands folded delicately on your stomach. 

“Thank you for paying for my meal today,” you said to him meekly. 

He smiled. “Thank you for the great conversation. And having an amazing taste in music.” 

You laughed. “What made you come sit with me anyway?”

That was when he looked at you, his mouth still slung in a smile, but his eyes sincere. “Because you’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks went hot and you giggled nervously, covering it with your hands. He rolled over and carefully removed them, his eyes on yours. For a brief moment, time was still. Your breath caught in your throat. He was so close. His lips were so close. Your noses were just barely brushing. His voice was husky when he said, “I like your laugh.”

And then he kissed you. 

In the living room, Frank Ocean sang about nights and new beginnings. 

In the bedroom, you and Jungkook were breathless. Hands on thighs. Hands in hair. Teeth on collarbones. It was a innocent hunger, one that never got too peckish. He was careful with you, didn’t dare to remove your clothes. “I like you,” he breathed into your neck. You gasped at the sensation. 

You kissed until you both eventually succumbed to sleep, the morning sun pouring drowsy golden light across the room.

It was well into the afternoon when you woke to the sound of a shower running. The room was unfamiliar. Definitely not your barren apartment with the boxes strewn about the place. And you definitely weren’t on your living room mattress tangled amongst its waves of sheets. The bed you were in was the most comfortable you’ve ever experienced. Brick walls, plants, beautiful abstract canvas paintings leaning against the wall. Then you remembered. 

The diner. The vinyl collection. The sunrise. The kiss. 

Jungkook. 

He was in the shower and you were fully dressed and the night had to have been a dream. But it wasn’t. Reality settled back onto your shoulders in agonizing waves. You were hours late opening the store. But oh, you wanted to burrow into these soft, sweet-smelling sheets and dissolve into nothing. Eventually you got up. 

The door to the bathroom was open. You thought about telling him you were leaving, but instead, you drew your name and number into the mirror steam and went home to shower and change yourself.

An entire week went by and he never called. He didn’t return to the diner, either. It hurt. Every time you lay on your side, willing yourself to sleep, the phantom feeling of his hands and lips barreled you at such an unwelcome rush you would gasp. None of it was real. You had to keep telling yourself that. None of it was real. 

Life went back to normal. Jungkook was a fleeting daydream that sifted in and out of your thoughts. The store still barely got any customers, except for the same two or three crate diggers who visited like ghosts. And then Nora, your best friend, breezed through the door. She was a city girl through and through. Large sunglasses, the omnipresent iced coffee, the expensive wardrobe curated specifically for being in front of a camera. She was partly why you moved here. The two of you were from the same hometown, and she had escaped first to chase the tail of a fashion designer career. 

“Move here!” she had said during a phone call. “You’ll love it. You’re super hipster and this city eats that shit up! And you can open up that record and book store you always dreamed of.” 

She wasn’t wrong. You loved this city but this city seemed to not love you back. Now, she pushed her sunglasses up into her hair and set her iced coffee on the counter top before you. You were sitting behind the register, feet up and reading a book when she had come in. You looked up from the paperback in your hands. “And what have I done to deserve your presence, Your Highness?”

“Good morning, dork! We’re going to a party.”

You kicked your feet down. Slipped a bookmark in the book and closed it. And you simply said, “No.”

She blinked, her smile stiff. “Why not?” 

“You know I have to open this place every single morning. I can’t go to a party and get drunk and miss another opening.”

“Stop making this store your entire life.”

“It is my entire life.”

“Well, live another one. Just for one night.” She clasped her hands together and actually pouted. “Please.”

You sighed. “You don’t have anyone else to go with?”

She perked up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Oh, I do. I just want you to go with me. I want you to have fun for once. All you’ve done since you been here was work.”

Every single dollar and penny from your savings went to this store. It was your lifelong dream. And Nora—lovely, naïve Nora—had never needed to work for anything a day in her life. She meant well. She was never intentionally ignorant. But that didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

She also didn’t know of your time with Jungkook. It was embarrassing that he never called. It angered you that he called you beautiful and said he liked you only for it all to be false. Thank goodness you didn’t have sex with him. 

“I’ll have fun once I’m a millionaire or something,” you said to Nora.

She huffed. “I can find you someone to cover the shop for the night. You won’t even have to pay them. Please just come with me.”

“No. What if they steal something.”

She stared at you flatly. “Do you really think any of my friends—my friends—would steal? Let alone steal any of this stuff? No offense.” 

“Why do you want me to go so badly?”

“I already said. Fun. You know, music, drinks, guys.” She sang the last word and accompanied it with a little shimmy. 

“I have plenty of music and I can buy my own drinks.”

She slammed her hand against the counter top, startling you. “Stop being fucking difficult and come have some fun with me.”

So, grudgingly, you went. Albeit late because you didn’t trust anyone else to close the shop for you, but you went nonetheless. Nora did your makeup. Just glitter eyeshadow and a little eyeliner because you insisted you didn’t want much. And she picked out your outfit—a black lace bra, a crop top cardigan, and a pair of white shorts. 

“Because I can’t dress myself?” you grumbled, sliding on the clothes. 

“Exactly that. You dress too…hipster-y. You need to be hot for tonight.” 

You hadn’t worn that bra since you dated Namjoon. He was pretentious and arrogant and such a city boy it made you lightheaded. You met when he waltzed into the store shortly after you moved here. He smiled at you and you practically melted. The books were what he came for. He bought a Russian classic novel and at checkout, he discussed with you the allegory of sharing fruit in literature. He was eloquent and intelligent and so damn gorgeous you fell for him in that same moment. He scribbled his number on the receipt and told you to keep it. 

The relationship lasted for four months. He suggested you move into his high rise apartment downtown with him. It was a modern edifice, all glass and steel and money. He was the wealthiest person you had ever met in your life. And, stupidly, you were in love. 

And then you saw his text messages with some unfairly beautiful girl he followed on social media about how good she looked in his bed . He said he was lonely, that you worked too much, what else was he supposed to do? Needless to say, you left him. And you hadn’t seen him since. 

Now, Nora said to you, “And don’t think about wearing those fucking platform boots.”

“Why not?” you said, frowning. “They’re cute.”

“They look ridiculous. Like those boots that one goth girl from that cartoon you like wore.” 

You grinned, mischievous. “That’s exactly why I bought them.”

To Nora’s dismay, you wore the fucking platform boots. 

The party was in an underground venue. It wasn’t all red wine and an elaborate excuse to brag about money, like the gatherings Namjoon liked, it was edgy. A live band played pop punk on a stage, the lights in the place were dim save for the spotlights and the white Christmas lights behind the bar. Greasy pizza and liquor and neon lights. You brushed elbows with someone smoking a joint, and you were pretty sure someone was doing coke in the bathroom. 

Nora pulled you to the bar where she ordered herself a cocktail and you a craft beer. She knew you so well. 

There were so many people here. You mentally kicked yourself for not bringing flyers for your store. 

And then you saw him. Nora was talking your ear off about how hot the frontman for the band was and you almost choked on your beer. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you spat.

Nora blinked rapidly. “What? What happened?”

“This is why you brought me here. You cunt.” You didn’t mean to call her that. It wasn’t a word worn with frequent use in your vocabulary. In fact, you hated the word. But it was deserved in this situation. 

Namjoon. He was standing near the stage with a craft beer of his own in his hand, bobbing his head to the music. He didn’t like places like this. They were tacky to him. He didn’t even listen to this genre of music. What the hell was he doing here? 

The girl standing next to him turned to him and smiled. She was wearing lipstick as red as murder and her bob was so black it reflected the lights with an envious luster. She had a septum piercing, the two silver balls glittering in the low light like two tiny stars. That’s when it clicked. He was here because of her. She was that unfairly beautiful girl in his text messages. Your skin felt incandescent. 

“He had to see how hot you are. I thought you would enjoy shoving that in his face.” Lovely, naïve Nora. You wanted to slap her. 

You stood from the bar stool and set your craft beer on the bar. “I’m leaving now.”

Her face was slack with regret. Before she could form an apology, you turned and walked away. 

You were a few moments from the door when you heard your name. It wasn’t Nora. You stopped and your breath hitched. Your turned slowly, preparing to see Namjoon with that girl by his side but instead—

“Jungkook?”

His hair was black now and almost as shiny as that girl’s bob. It hung past his ears in gentle waves. He stood there in a baggy black shirt and jeans, his thumbs tucked into the front pockets. Silver bracelets draped from both wrists. In this lighting, he looked ethereal. Infernal. This couldn’t be the same man you shared a chimerical morning with. He looked like he had been created by the darkness of the city’s nights. 

Maybe it was just the hair. 

“Hi,” he said in the same way he did when he sat your table at the diner. It could’ve been mistaken as sheepishness, but his eyes were not meek. Besides the hair, you couldn’t figure out what was so different about him. 

Breathlessly, you said, “Hi.”

“You look nice.” 

Over his shoulder, you noticed Namjoon go to the bar. Nora scowled at him. He smiled amicably at her and his mouth moved, saying something. She froze, and her eyes immediately darted to you. Namjoon turned and saw you. And he started your way. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked.

You should’ve ran out of the venue. There were a million other things you should’ve done, but instead you grabbed Jungkook and kissed him. 

Initially, he went rigid with shock, but he melted into the kiss. You felt him smile against your mouth. “Miss me that much?”

You pulled away. “I did not.” A glance over his shoulder and Namjoon was gone. You audibly exhaled. 

“What happened?” 

You ran a hand over your face. “Ex.”

“Ah,” he said. “Is that why you were leaving?”

“Yes. And now I’m going. Goodbye.” You whirled around, shoulders tense with embarrassment and headed for the stairs. 

“Wait.” He caught up to you on the stairs. “Can I go with?” There were small white string lights strung in the stairwell and the glow reflected in his eyes. They were so brown. 

“Don’t you have friends to be with?” Your phone buzzed in your back pocket with an incoming text message. Most likely your own friend dying to know who the guy you just kissed was. You ignored it. 

“They’ll be fine.” He grinned. 

“Okay,” you said, feeling yourself smile as well.

There was no destination, but you ended up at a park, sitting beside each other on a swing set. Your feet dragged in the wood chips as you pushed yourself back and forth slowly. He looked up at the night sky and sighed. “Do you want to know why I hadn’t called?”

You just looked at him. 

“This may sound like a corny excuse, but… I was afraid of what you would think of me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before saying, “If we continued seeing each other, you would eventually find out that I’m not a freelance artist. I do paint, but that’s not what I do.”

You could feel your heartbeat gradually speeding its pace. “What do you do?” His eyes fell down to his hands. He turned them over, studying the lines in his palms. His hair slipped over his eyes. He was a portrait of affliction. “I’m a Lost Boy.”

You didn’t understand. He noticed your silence and looked up at you. “The Lost Boys. This city is practically run by them.” He corrected himself, “Ran by us.” He stopped, closed his eyes, and sighed. “I’m in a gang.”

Your voice was a whisper. “What?”  

He quickly added, “If you no longer want to associate with me, I understand. They’re—we’re—dangerous. I mean, even if you haven’t heard of us, you know us. The leather jackets, the vandalism, the fights. That venue is owned by us. The drugs at that event were supplied by us. That band playing is in our pockets. My apartment is paid by dirty money.” He laughed quietly to himself then, almost pityingly. 

The night air around you was thick with your own dread. “Is being around you dangerous?” You hadn’t meant for your voice to sound so small.

“I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re asking.” You could hear the unsaid “but” in his tone. 

“But what?” you prompted.

He chewed on his lip. A dimple in his left cheek appeared. “I won’t hurt you, but I can’t promise your safety. If you do decide to be around me.”

--