#they're like maybe 2 years younger in this too

[ghostf1ux]

Aftershocks

Day 2: Holding Back Tears

Word Count: 5.5k

TW/CWs: Discussion of and implied/referenced rape/non-con

Part 1 || Part 2 (here)

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

When Alice had been taken, she'd been angry and scared.

Angry, because she'd been stupid enough to get grabbed off the streets of Crime Alley.

Scared, because despite the work Rojo had been doing for years, she could never shake off those trust issues burned into her bones by living on the streets, and she didn't know if he would find her. Scared, because if he didn't find her fast enough, she knew she'd never be able to come back.

Scared, because despite being only nine years old, she was the oldest kid locked in this warehouse, from what she could tell. Which meant she had to be the strong one, protect the others.

It's what Rojo would do. 

So that's what she did.

Even with the ropes burning her wrists with the tightness, even with the shitty bundle of cloth shoved in her mouth and kept there with a haphazardly slapped on piece of duct tape, she kept the others calm. She let the younger ones cuddle up to her, too sympathetic of their too-skinny, shivering forms to do anything else.

It took an hour, she thinks. Maybe two.

When the first man standing along the edges of the warehouse disappeared into the darkness, she smiles and motions for all the kids to close their eyes. Rojo always told them if they got in a situation like this, that once he got there, to close their eyes. 

She knew why he always told them that. She's not stupid, and she's not naive, either.

Which is the reason why she keeps her eyes open, and the reason she herds everyone into the furthest corner of the cage they're all in when the guys keeping them there get distracted by seeing their friends get picked off one by one, seemingly by a shadow.

A few gunshots later she sees Rojo jump down from the rafters, a whirl of red and black so fast she can barely make out what he's doing before all the guys are quiet on the ground.

Then he's picking the lock of the cage open, Alice being the first to approach him with a pointed glance down at the gag. A little buzzing, staticky sound comes through his helmet, a sound she's familiar enough with by now to know it's a disbelieving chuckle.

“Are any of you hurt?” He asks first, head tilting towards the others to glance over them before returning his gaze to Alice's.

“Just some cuts, scrapes, malnourishment, and dehydration,” Alice responds. She rubs her wrists after he cuts the rope off, then moves to help the others up. “You can open your eyes now, it's okay, we're safe.”

“Rojo!” One of the kids exclaims, a five year old if Alice had to guess. He runs over to the crimelord-slash-vigilante, beaming brightly. “You came!”

“Of course I did, Alex. Promised I would. Sorry I took so long.” Rojo helps the rest of the kids out, getting their varied restraints off as he goes. “You all have safe places to go?”

A vague chorus of affirmatives meets his question, accompanied by a few negatives. The vigilante nods, turning to Alice.

“Can you take the little ones to the safehouse? I'll make sure they get home once I've wrapped this up.”

“You got it, boss.” Alice salutes seriously, sticking her tongue out at him when he ruffles her hair in response.

He watches the warehouse door while Alice gathers everyone up, and walks with them out the back way. As soon as Alice turns around to guide the younger ones, he disappears from view. She knows better than to think he isn't continuing to watch them, make sure they get out of the area safely, but even in spite of that she still tries to find him in the shadows of the building. 

She's unsuccessful.

Turning away, she resigns herself to seeing some of the kids off and taking the ones who don't have a safe place to go to the closest of Rojo's shared safehouses, which are actually just apartments he's in charge of that he keeps stocked for kids that need a temporary place to stay. It's a long walk, but not too long. It takes them thirty minutes at a brisk walk to get there.

Alice gets the younger children settled in, fed, and hydrated, before resigning herself to staying up to keep watch while they sleep. 

Thirty minutes pass.

Then forty-five.

Then an hour.

Alice's gut twists into something like dread when there's still no sign of Rojo's appearance. Dealing with the bad guys at the warehouse shouldn't be taking nearly this long.

She glances between the room housing the three small children and the window.

She hesitates.

She lifts the window glass as gently as possible before speed-walking back to the warehouse, switchblade clutched in her hand. Just in case.

A dark van comes driving around the corner and Alice leaps behind the closest hiding spot, holding her breath and flicking the blade out. The van meanders past, not slow enough to be looking for victims, just a little faster than the average car would be driving. 

But it came from the direction of the warehouse.

Something niggles in the back of her mind, telling her this is important. As soon as the van passes her, she peeks over the edge of the dumpster to get a glimpse of the license plate. In the darkness she can make out the first couple symbols, but the shadows make it impossible to see the rest.

Repeating the letters over in her head like a mantra, she decides to forego subtlety and sprint the rest of the way to the warehouse once the van is out of sight. 

When she gets there it's quiet. Silent. It crawls across her skin, but she steels herself, readies her blade, and pushes carefully through the back door into the warehouse.

Contrary to when Alice left, it's barren. The cage is still there, but the bodies Rojo left behind are gone, not even the drops and small pools of blood that should still be here from the fight before are left. It's like the whole place was wiped clean and nothing ever happened.

Even the cage is pushed back further into the shadows of the random crates, shitty tarps left half draped over them.

“Rojo? You here?” Alice calls out tentatively, looking around slowly. Only her own echoing voice answers her, before fizzling out.

Again, quiet. Way too quiet. Empty-quiet.

Walking forward slowly, she sticks near the edges of the crates lining the walls as she scans the rest of the room for anything.

The clatter of something sliding against concrete makes Alice flinch in surprise, whirling around towards the source of the noise. Her breathing is heavy with anticipation– eyes wide as she searches for the sound.

She freezes when she sees the gun on the ground. It wasn't there before. Slowly, the blade lowers as she takes it in. It's big, and dark, with slightly glowing red accents and details on it. Special attachments are fitted to it. When she gently picks it up and flicks the safety back on, it's a lot heavier than it looks. 

This is a very specific gun Alice has only ever seen one person wield.

This is Rojo's gun.

He isn't here.

She (safely) clutches the gun to her chest, running out the door to see the tire tracks in the slightly muddy front road.

Something went wrong.

They took him.

And she's the only one who knows.

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

Dick groans dramatically as Tim continues rambling over the comm line in his ear, swerving around a car going too slow for his taste.

“Baby bird, I don't need you to re-explain the reason I shouldn't just eat sugary cereal for breakfast. I am aware of the nutrient factors and whatever and I've decided that I deserve that treat in my life,” Dick argues cheerily, a grin plastered across his face. He can hear Tim's exasperated eye roll, despite the fact that it's silent. It's about vibes.

“Okay, but you shouldn't also have it for dinner,” Tim sighs tiredly, like he's had this argument several times before. That's because he has. Dick doesn't know why he keeps trying.

“Maybe you just need a little more joy and whimsy in your life.” Dick shrugs, working the stray strand of hair stuck on the edge of his domino out of it. Tim mocks him in the very little-brotherly way he picked up from Jason as they speed down the main border street next to the Bowery, heading towards Crime Alley and then Bristol.

“Whatever. When you keel over because you've had too much sugar, don't come crying to me– fUCKING CHRIST–”

Both vigilantes startle when a kid runs out of the Alley and into the street just ahead of them– tires skidding loudly on the asphalt as they have to swerve opposite ways to miss her, just barely not crashing their bikes.

Dick breathes out a heavy sigh, before hopping off his bike to face the kid. “Hey, that's pretty dangerous, maybe look both ways before you–”

“You have to help him!” The girl cries, running up to Dick with wide, scared eyes. She's heaving for breath and keeping something tucked close to her chest, hidden under her jacket. He crouches down to her level just as Tim jogs over, looking a little wary and confused.

“Help who?” Dick rests his elbows on his knees, looking up at the– she's gotta be less than ten years old– girl. She unfurls her jacket and hands him something metal and heavy and handle first– a gun. A very recognizable gun.

“Rojo saved us and then he didn't come back,” she explains, wiping her eyes with her sleeve furiously as she tries to catch her breath. “They took him– there– there was a van leaving the warehouse. When he didn't come back I went to look for him because he always makes sure everyone gets home and it had been too long and–”

“Hey, hey, easy, we'll find him,” Dick assures her, ignoring the spike of anxiety in his stomach in favor of handing the custom black and red Jericho 941 off to Tim, who's speaking lowly into his comm. “Can you show me which warehouse it was?”

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

When Dick and Tim get there to investigate, it's both worrying and disappointing. Between the distinct lack of evidence, the partial plate they were able to get from Alice before sending her to Jason's community safehouse, and the lack of cameras in Crime Alley that make tracking the van impossible, it wasn't looking good.

Oracle managed to remotely activate the tracker on his helmet, but it was just a decoy location that served to throw the Bats off the tail. All they found was his mask and domino, in perfect condition, sitting on a table in a nondescript basement under a shady looking store that was probably a front for money laundering. No note, no ransom, nothing. They just took him and left without a trace.

That fact only made Dick's anxiety about the whole situation worse.

It took hours before they found anything. They had to resort to locating all of Jason's known enemies, then figure out which ones had the means to pull this off, then deduce who would actually have the balls to try it. 

His list of enemies is long.

Thankfully, most are dead or out of commission, making the process of going down the list a whole lot quicker. Between everyone who had access to anything, they were able to narrow down the list to a few handfuls of people.

That being said, all of them either couldn't have done it or wouldn't have done it.

Which, again, leaves them with nothing.

And then Tim had recognized one of the mob names from a case he was working on after Jason had supposedly dismantled them. Looking further into it, it seemed he only killed the leader before having to get out before finishing the job, for whatever reason. A quick call to Talia tells them that it went down during the time he had been on the run from the League, and that the mob was under Ra's’ control at the time. After that, the mob, located in Russia, had gone dark. Intel said the main compound was blown to smithereens and not a soul survived it.

She also informed them of the nature of many of the members of this mob. It was possible one of the members’ meta abilities had led them to survive.

After that, they took to investigating each known member of the mob that had been there, narrowed it down to the metas, and then scoured every source of intel they had for those names and faces.

Thankfully, it wasn't too long of a list, and they managed to get a couple hits. None had been spotted anywhere near Gotham in recent time, but there was one who hadn't been spotted anywhere in the past couple weeks.

Following the money trail from him was done easily enough, and then they were able to find the transport Jason had been taken in. 

It was at this point Dick and Tim headed back out in the vaguely same direction the mobsters were going while Babs combed through what footage she could find to track them down.

Eventually, they found the location. In a grand total of six and a half hours, give or take, they finally found Jason.

Hopefully.

There were no guards posted outside the derelict house, but that really doesn't mean anything, besides the fact that they have some vague amount of intellect. They circle around to the back, starting on the second floor. 

Sneaking through the window proves to be the best plan when they're able to soundlessly take out the few armed guards up there. Immediately they notice the unnatural cold that persists within the building, chilling them to the bone despite the very-much-not-winter-weather outside.

Within the next minutes, the brothers are systematically taking out each goon one by one. 

At least, until they get to the hallway to the basement. 

It's heavily guarded, five different men standing outside it. They all carry weapons, though some have been flying carelessly to the side. Blunt weapons with little splashes of blood, from what Dick can tell through the night vision of his domino lenses. 

Silently, he gives Tim a countdown before rolling a smoke pellet into the room and flinging himself in as soon as it goes off. The smaller vigilante is right behind, covering Dick's back while he flips and sounds between the men in the cramped space. He doesn't even bother trying to spare them the trip to the hospital, not when his little brother's life is on the line.

As soon as they're all knocked out cold, Dick throws the basement door open, rushes down the stairs, and throws the (much more expensive and way heavier) second door open as well. 

He freezes, eyes widening and blood running cold while he tries to take in the scene in front of him.

Immediately, his eyes lock on Jason. 

Jason, who’s hanging from his wrists, blood cascading down his arms from whatever wounds are beneath the cuffs.

Jason, who’s trembling and shaking erratically and involuntarily, broken little sounds he’d never make in a million years slipping between his lips.

Jason, who’s been stripped of everything except his pants, who’s injuries are on clear display to anyone that so much as glances at him, blood pooling around his feet.

Jason, who’s covered in so many scratches that are closer to gouges that ooze blood in steady streams, marks that lead to the burned in handprints and fucking bite marks across his waist, his chest, his arms, his shoulders, his fucking neck–

The man holding Jason– his brother, his fucking little brother– is barely a blur of a figure behind his little brother. Dick doesn’t see, doesn’t process anything past the sight of Jason’s twitching and squirming, his own body fighting him as little orange sparks of electricity dance over the surface of his skin. They’re barely visible, but Dick can still make them out, make out the little involuntary flinches when one of the bolts touches a hidden injury under his skin. 

At some point, Tim pushes into the room behind him. The guy who has Jason shifts his grip from his hips– a placement that makes Dick’s skin crawl and his rage spike, hands shaking with the effort of holding himself back– to grabbing Jason’s hair and yanking his head back, holding a wicked-looking knife to his throat. Tim falters, and Dick can feel the way he glances at him for help but all Dick sees is the arc of electricity get bigger– stronger– 

And then Jason cries– sobs, his voice hoarse and broken and in so, so much agony.

Dick’s will, his fraying thread of self restraint in the delicate situation, snaps.

In the next moment he’s flying across the room, ripping the knife out of the man’s hand and stabbing it through his wrist– the one holding Jason back by his hair. He screams, or, at least, Dick thinks he does. He doesn’t really know.

Not when his fists are pummelling into the guy’s face, his ribs, anywhere he can hit to cause damage, to cause pain.

Not when he can feel those phantom hands tracing over his own body, an all-too vivid memory of rain pattering against his face.

Not when the guy is unconscious on the ground and Dick keeps going, because his rage burns hot and fiery in his veins and he can’t seem to actually see the face below him.

Not when he can hear her words echoing in his ears, panic and disgust twisting painfully in his stomach as his own body is helpless to push her off, to push her away, to do anything to stop it, to get away–

“–ing! Hold him up, I need to get the shackles off.”

Dick blinks and he can finally see the mess of the man below him, barely breathing. He blinks again, turning his gaze up to Tim, who’s holding his shoulders and meeting his gaze with a strange, panicked and worried intensity he never lets show in the field unless someone is gravely injured. He points back to Jason with his words, who’s gone completely limp despite the clear pain it causes him. His first little brother breathes out a slow, stuttered, despaired keen, muscles twitching under his skin as if he wants to reach out towards them. His shaking– shivering, rather– is so violent and painful it makes Dick choke out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob, scrambling away from the body to get to Jason.

Quick fingers take care of the blindfold, but all it reveals is tear-streaked closed eyes, squeezed so tight it has to be in reflex to the pain. Then he’s carefully, gently embracing and lifting him, mindful of the injuries he can see and feel beneath Jason’s skin. He flinches despite it, another whimper accompanying the action. Dick can feel his breathing– already fluttery, erratic, and painful just to listen to– speed up dramatically, but Dick just shushes him calmly, combing his fingers through his little brother’s hair as Jason coughs weakly.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, we’ve got you, little wing, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay, you’re safe now,” Dick murmurs, trying to keep his anger and panic and worry out of his voice in some attempt to be comforting. He’s usually so much better at this, having been doing it since he was nine years old and working the streets as Robin, but when it comes to family…

A few tense moments pass while Tim works diligently on the best way to get the cuffs off before Jason weakly– so weakly– tucks his face into the crook of Dick’s neck with a shuddering breath thick with tears he doesn’t have the strength to shed. He smooths his free hand through Jason’s hair, smoothing the sweat-soaked locks out of his face.

“Fucking piece of shit put fucking prongs in these cuffs just to torture him a little more– I swear to god if he isn’t already dead he fucking will be–”

Dick glances up at Tim with a pointed look, the boy just giving him a deadpan stare in response once he notices Dick’s look.

“I’m not calling an ambulance for him. I don’t care about B’s rule,” Tim snaps quietly, mindful of how his volume makes Jason react. Dick raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything in response. He watches Tim as he unlocks the first cuff, noticing the high-strung tension in his body, the slightly jerky movements that are usually fluid and smooth, the way his brow is furrowed in concentration when he’s trying to focus on one thought instead of the unwanted ones trying to flying through his head.

Why does it seem like this is personal for him? Past it just being their family.

Personal in the same way it’s personal for Dick.

He subconsciously tightens his grip on Jason when the idea crosses his mind, gut twisting. Surely Tim wasn’t–?

No. 

Right?

But then, Tim was never one to share with them, especially in a family as emotionally repressed as this one, where it always seemed weakness wasn’t an option (thanks for that mentality, B). It’s possible he could’ve just not told them… god knows Dick doesn’t, hasn’t.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Dick startles out of his train of thought when Jason’s second wrist is released and he sags bonelessly into his chest, briefly tensing, twitching and spasming, before going limp again. Dick nods to Tim to help him carry Jason up the stairs, which is done quickly and gently as possible. There’s no furniture Dick wants to touch with a ten foot pole, so they just lay Jason down on the ground, head pillowed by Dick’s legs from where he’s sitting leaned against the wall with his legs bent.

He checks Jason’s pulse and breathing, both fast and fluttery, but not in dangerous levels. Tim gets started on wrapping his wrists, while Dick returns to threading his fingers through Jason’s hair in that way he’s never said he enjoys, but everyone knows he does.

“Hey, hey, open your eyes, Jay. Come on, stay with me here,” he pleads quietly, hoping to keep him from falling asleep just yet.

Slowly, bright teal eyes blink blearily open, finding Dick’s face immediately. He breathes out a sigh of relief, smiling down at him. Jason’s gaze flicks over to Tim, who meets his eyes for a few moments before nodding to himself and returning to wrapping Jason’s wounds.

Briefly, Dick panics when his eyes slide shut and his head lolls listlessly into Dick’s abdomen, but it’s washed away when he recognizes the slower breathing pattern of sleep. No surprise he’s exhausted, after what he went through.

Tim tends to the worst of his injuries while Dick holds him, keeping him warm in the cold house. Not too much longer later, the Batmobile arrives and the two of them get Jason loaded in.

He’s in and out for the whole ride back, drifting between barely awake and fully asleep.

Back in the medbay of the Batcave, both Dick and Tim help Alfred get Jason changed and help dress his injuries.

He just barely manages to keep the bile in his stomach when he’s forced to actually dress the handprints and the bite marks.

By the look on Tim’s face the whole time, he guesses he’s having the same struggle.

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

Consciousness comes back to Jason in broken, foggy pieces. Sharp, but unclear.

He knows he hurts. He’s in pain. He’s cold. His nerves are still jittery and twitchy.

He doesn’t know why.

And then it all slams into him like a fucking truck and he throws himself out of– where is he? Laying on something vaguely soft, rapid beeping in the background that abruptly shifts to a long whine that grates on his ears, needling into his skull and it hurts, it hurts so much, so he tries to back away from it– tripping and stumbling over whatever else is in the room, ignoring the pinpricks of pain over his otherwise trembling body.

“Jay– Jason– Jason!” A voice yells worriedly, close, far too close. He flinches, pressing himself further back into the corner. There’s so much– sound, noise, smells, feeling– whatever he’s wearing scratches painfully against his chest and back, and suddenly he can hear that voice again and those hands on his body and he just wants people to stop fucking touching him–

“Little wing, I need you to open your eyes,” a different voice coaxes, softer than the other one. “You’re safe, you’re in control here, okay? No one’s going to do anything you don’t want them to. Open your eyes for me, please.”

Jason slowly, cautiously flutters his eyes open, not even aware they were closed. A kind face smiles encouragingly back at him, dark blue eyes searching his tentatively.

“There you go. Can you breathe with me? We’re in the Cave, it’s just me and Tim right now. Deep breaths for me, little wing,” Dick murmurs soothingly, exaggerating his own breathing for him to follow. He tries, once he manages to actually focus on it, but it’s hard, god it’s hard because his heart is still beating out of his chest and every instinct in him is screaming at him to move, to fight, to hide, to get away even though somewhere in his mind he knows he’s safe.

Dick seems to see something in his curled up form– when did he end up on the ground with his arms wrapped around himself?– because he shuffles back about a foot and it immediately makes something in Jason’s chest a little lighter, a little less constricting. He finds himself able to follow the pattern, heart slowing down with the more even breaths.

Once he has a handle on his own thoughts, he averts his gaze from Dick’s and takes in the room. Now that he’s not panicking, he can easily recognize it as the Medbay in the Bat Cave. Several cots line the walls, various pieces of medical equipment are scattered around, and the place is pristine as always.

Except for the path of destruction caused by his panic to the corner of the room, of course. Tim stands by what he guesses is his cot, the furthest one from the door. There are medical supplies strewn about the cot itself, mostly bandages and various antibiotic and burn creams.

Well. That explains a lot.

He lets himself relax a bit, unfolding slightly from his little ball but keeping his arms wrapped around his mostly bandaged torso.

“How– How long has it been?” He asks, voice scratchy and hoarse. Tim moves in the background, setting a glass of water with a straw a couple feet away and sliding it towards him.

“We found you yesterday after the sun rose, and you’ve been out since. Technically it was earlier today but it’s past midnight, so.” 

Dick shrugs, keeping a sort of easy air around him despite the tension threading through his muscles. “No one’s left for patrol yet. I was gonna stay in, and Tim has stuff to work on at the computer.”

Jason hums, taking careful sips from the water. They fall into a sort of awkward, loaded silence that no one really wants to break.

“We, uh. Can we finish up the bandages?” Tim finally asks. Jason tenses up just at the idea, pressing back into the wall. “If we don’t, it’s more likely to leave scars or get infected…”

He scoffs sardonically, forcing himself to his feet. “Sure, yeah, whatever, Timbit. Just make it quick.”

Jason settles back on the cot, sitting cross-legged and facing one of the long sides so they can both have enough room to do whatever it is you need to do. He focuses on a breathing pattern as they tread closer and tentatively resume what they were doing prior to his little freak out, dutifully ignoring the way his skin prickles uncomfortably and his whole body tenses just at their proximity. He definitely ignores how each touch– half a moment of contact, barely even a brush against his skin– nearly causes him to flinch away and makes his eyes sting as he forces himself to remain relatively still.

Fuck. Seriously, he’s been through far worse, why the hell does he feel like sobbing?

He tilts his chin up at Dick’s prompting so they can re-bandage his neck, biting the inside of his lip hard enough for it to bleed in an attempt to keep his eyes from betraying him.

He’s not angry, he’s certainly not sad, so why the hell does his body feel the need to do this to him?

It’s stupid, that’s what it is. His childhood on the streets was worse than this. The Joker was worse than this. Hell, the Pit was definitely worse than this. That’s not even counting having to dig his way out of his own grave– that he could definitely understand wanting to cry about. That fucking sucked.

But he wasn’t even there for that long. Some electrocution, some freezing, and maybe he really did want to die there for a hot second but that’s besides the point because it’s a coin flip whether he feels like that on any given day. Really, it’s a fifty-fifty whether he wants to die or if he feels like he’s already dead.

Maybe that says something about him.

He dismisses the thought with a suspiciously choked half-scoff, rapidly blinking his eyes. Dick pulls back, trying to meet his gaze, but he averts it before he can.

“Jay, you… you know you’re allowed to fall apart, right? Especially about something like this, you–”

“Don’t fucking tell me that, Goldie,” Jason snaps, pulling away from them both to curl back up at the head of the bed. Neither try to stop him, glancing between him and each other.

“I’m just saying, we’re here for you. That’s what family does, we help pick up the pieces when we fall apart.”

He rolls his eyes, fixing his glare on a random crack between the tiles on the floor of the Medbay. “Whatever. Look, I’m fine, okay? Don’t make a big deal out of something that isn’t a big deal. I’ve had far worse. I grew up on the streets, trust me, this isn’t my first fucking rodeo.”

The other two exchange glances again.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that we get it,” Tim tries carefully. That makes Jason’s attention snap to the two of them, scanning them both. Slightly uncomfortable, but no lies. He growls, deep in his chest, a flare of familiar protective rage surging in his chest.

“Who?”

Tim answers first. “Ra’s’ sister, when I was… looking for B. It didn’t actually– I wasn’t– Cass got there in time,” he finally gets out. It doesn’t really help the rage, but it does make him relax slightly.

Dick, on the other hand, is uncharacteristically silent, hands fidgeting. Anxiety is written into every line on his face. Jason and Tim stay silent, waiting for him to speak.

“She– she’s in jail, now. For something else. But she’s already gone,” Dick finally says, wringing his hands.

Of course it’s at this moment all three flinch as the door slides open, revealing Bruce in the suit, sans cowl. He has a bundle of fabric in his arms, which he sets at the foot of the bed. He glances at the three of them, then clears his throat awkwardly.

“I… brought all your favorite clothes you still have here. I wasn’t sure which ones you might want.”

Jason blinks, slowly reaching out to grab his favorite Wonder Woman hoodie from the pile and slipping it on with only a little difficulty. It’s then that he realizes that it’s not just his stuff in the pile. He sends a questioning look at Bruce, who has thinly-veiled pain in his eyes.

“I figured I’d bring down things for all of you. If… if any of you want to, to talk about it. Someday. I understand.”

It’s the three boys’ turn to look at him incredulously, Tim opening his mouth to ask the question they’re all thinking before a different, haughty voice echoes across the cave.

“Father! Oracle has requested you at the computer, she insists she must show you something relating to the case,” Damian calls from further into the cave, most likely by the computer. Jason notes the brief stiffness, and the forced relaxing of muscles, before it clicks.

Oh, he was going to put his All-Blades to good use. Demon heads are going to roll.

Bruce clears his throat again, stiffly making his way out while the three eldest brothers of the family exchange glances, collectively agree to not talk about it, and Tim follows them out. Dick grabs his own hoodie from the pile, then turns to Jason with a small smile.

“If you want a distraction, I bet we could kidnap Tim for some Mario Kart?”

Jason huffs a reluctant laugh, waving him off. “Sure, go get the baby bird. Wait until B leaves though. I’d… like a second. Alone.”

“Of course,” Dick smiles, stepping towards the exit. “We’ll be out here, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah. Scram.”

[crow2222]

modern au pony & johnny trying to buy vapes

[covertblizzard]

jaykyle au where they're theatre kids in the same school but they're not the actors jason's the scriptwriter/director and kyle is the prop manager (i don't know the official terms sorry) and they'd probably do an amazing job on the backstage setting if they could stop arguing for 5 whole seconds about their artistic visions and ideas and how "this would obviously work better this way"

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[felassan]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

this is not directed at anything in particular so much as a lament ive made in private several times over the years and am thinking about again now but. i wish that fandom had not conflated the term "zine" with "artbook". because 99% of the "zines" i see are in fact artbooks, chapbooks, or art/writing anthologies. which to me are just so so different as products!!! instead of being fully handmade they are all being professionally bound by an outside company, often come with stickers/keychains/other perks that are 3rd party manufactured, etc... and to be clear i love these and have bought several, but!

they are to me kind of the antithesis of what the word "zine" should actually imply, in the traditional sense. a zine is something you make by hand and then photocopy for the dozen or so people in your circle. a zine can be just a single sheet of paper you folded up into 8 pages and scribbled on with pencil. they can get fancier than this but once you move from using a stapler (or if you're feeling fancy needle & thread) to needing to have things perfect bound & glued by a separate industry then!!!! we have moved up the sliding scale in terms of product, towards art/chapbook and away from zine. that's what those terms meant initially we just have... kept calling them zines anyway i guess, and now i think most younger people don't realize that the origins for "zines" were things you handmade and maybe snuck your school/work's photocopier to help produce for your friends. And they were made by one person, or maybe a small collab of 2-3. Once you start adding more artists/authors, and they're all making separate things (even if on a theme), now we have hit an anthology. you know?

because i would LOOOOVE fandom zines in the traditional sense of the word, just posting photos of short scrappy handmade art/comics and mailing them to mutuals for fun like you would a christmas card. idk. like i've made i think 8-10 personal little zines on all random topics in the past year just for fun and my friends, because they're rewarding and people LOVE getting something like that in the mail. they're little visual shitposts like "rating the 16 crayola crayons i found in my drawer" and "plants i have eaten while taking walks in the desert" and it would be really fun to have fandom equivalents of those too... but fandom these days has moved away from silly rough stuff towards everything being really polished + professional and it takes some of the charm out of it i think

[bitchface24-7]

Sequel to the pregnancy fic but this time baby no.2 is Jayces?

OOPS WE DID IT AGAIN! - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: this time it wasn't a fuck up. James is four and keeps asking for a younger sibling. He’ll take good care of them he promises! You, Jayce, and Viktor have been planning to have a second one anyway. James looks just like his one dad, maybe baby number two will look just like the other…

warnings: pre-established relationships, kid oc, everything revolving around pregnancy, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f

p.s. Looks like none of the babies you have look like you… oh well! LMAO

James has been badgering you three ever since he started school to get a younger sibling. Every day he comes home and looks around your home, expecting a little brother or sister to be waiting for him.

That was the final nail in the coffin. The three of you have been debating on having another kid. You have the space, the funds, and the time to have one; James’ cute pleas sealed the deal.

So on one of his school days, ensuring he was out of the house, the three of you gave into his wishes.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You don't know if they're highly fertile or if you are because before you know it, you're pregnant.

James is ecstatic! He keeps asking how long until his sibling arrives and you three have to keep reminding him that it’s going to take about a year. He always pouts and crosses his arms at that.

You go through all the pain and uncomfortable feelings again, but it'll be worth it. James is a miniature Viktor, literally. Its like you copy-pasted them. You can't help but imagine what a mini Jayce would be like.

You subtly pray that this child is just that. You've gotten to see the wonderful mix that is you and Viktor. Now you want to see the mix of you and Jayce.

James is already looking to be a great big brother. He's separated some of his toys, favourite books, and has even placed aside one of his favourite stuffies to give to his younger sibling. The three of you can't help but gush and coo over how sweet your boy is.

As your pregnancy stretches on, near the end the three of you sit James down for a small talk. You explain to him that your attention won't be fully focused on him anymore. That babies need help to do everything. James looks shocked, even asking if they need help to poop.

You laugh as Viktor and Jayce just look shocked. “Yes sweetheart. Sometimes they get colicky, or constipated and we need to help them poop.”

“Ew.”

James face screams disgust and you laugh harder at that, scooping him up and cuddling him to the best of your abilities. He doesn't fight you.

“Even though we may be more busy now with a baby, you're always our baby too. Never forget that. We’ll make sure you still have your own personal time with us.”

As you say this, Viktor kisses James’ forehead and Jayce ruffles his hair. James giggles and nods, “Ok! So… when's the baby coming out of mums tummy?”

Viktor and Jayce look at you and then at James, “Maybe a week?”

Jayce nods. James squeals. Finally! His best friend is coming!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The labour was intense, but in the end, you pushed through it. You're sweaty, tired, and desperately want a mommy-mocktail.

Viktor was with you in the delivery room, Jayce and James waited just outside to be let in. Giving birth can be scary, and you didn't want to scare James.

A nurse ushers your other husband and your son into the room, just as the doctor exclaims, “A healthy baby girl! Congratulations!”

The baby is swaddled in a pastel pink blanket as you hold her to your chest. You look down and feel yourself subconsciously smile.

James is Viktor’s copy. Your precious girl is Jayce’s.

Same eyes, same skin tone, same lips. Looks like she got your eyebrows, nose, and chin. She beautiful.

She’s perfect.

Viktor laughs lightly when he comes to the same realization. Jayce just looks like he's about to cry.

The moment is ruined by James.

“She looks ugly.”

“James!”

“What? She's all red and wrinkly. Are you sure you didn't give birth to an old lady rather than a baby?”

Viktor snorts, and then the rest of you follow suit. James looks incredibly proud of himself.

“You be nice to your sister James Talis. You're the one who begged for a sibling.” Jayce playfully scolds, and James puffs his face out in mock irritation.

“Fineeeeeee. What’s her name anyway?”

You looks to Jayce and smile, your eyes twinkling, “Rose. Her name is Rose Talis.”

That's what finally gets Jayce to break down in weepy tears. You and Viktor laugh lovingly at your husband; James is panicking trying to calm his dad down.

Now four has become five.

For all the smut I write y'all only got pregnant twice. I’d say that's a miracle LMAO

[mayajadewrites]

toxic - toji fushiguro

✦ synopsis: toji fushiguro is your ex husband/baby daddy of your children, Megumi and Isla. It's been 2 years since your divorce and things have been nothing short of toxic. toji has probably slept with most of the city, while you've had 1 boyfriend within the past 2 years that never even met the kids. one day when toji drops off the kids, he smells another man's cologne on you.

✦ content warnings: toji fushiguru x fem! reader, 18+ unprotected sex, toji is toxic af (still luv him tho), lactation kink, angst, infidelity (don't do this pls), mentions of pregnancy, reader can speak Spanish.

You hear the sound of tires rolling onto your driveway signaling that your children are home from their weekend at their fathers.

You just got back from a man's house, a man that you've been seeing for a few weeks. He's sweet, kind, and doesn't make you feel crazy.

You heard your children giggling outside of the door, ready to come in the house and play.

"Mommy!" The younger one, Isla said as you opened the front door.

"Hi my babies." You hugged both of them tightly - Megumi is 6 and Isla is 4. "Did you have fun at daddy's house?"

"We did! Daddy brought us to the pool and I can finally swim without swimmies!" Megumi smiled as he leaned into your leg.

"Ay, we didn't discuss him taking his swimmies off yet." You glared at the tall man leaning against the doorframe through your lashes. Your accent comes off a little strong when you're angry.

"He was ready." Toji shrugged. He's wearing a tight, black t-shirt and black jeans to match. He's very muscular, he could probably lift you with his pinky. His biceps looked like they were about to rip through his sleeves.

"Can daddy stay for dinner?" Isla pulled on the hem of your shirt. "I heard his tummy growling in the car."

You looked at your two beautiful children, then at Toji. "Sure."

Megumi and Isla cheered as they ran to their rooms. You walked into the kitchen to stir the sauce you were preparing for dinner.

Toji followed you into the kitchen silently, like a predator stalking their prey.

"You know where the TV is." You waved your hand without even looking at him.

"I'm looking at you, mama." Toji's mouth formed into a smirk.

"Well take a picture it'll last longer. Then leave me alone." You pressed your hand to your hip as you stirred.

"I have a lot of pictures of you already. Videos, too."

"You're disgusting." You started boiling a pot of water for the pasta. "Were the kids okay this weekend?"

"Yeah." Toji slid onto the barstool. "They're always good."

"Mm." You nod. You know they're good because of you. Toji is around as much as he can be, but he likes to sleep around with various women which can take up a lot of time.

"Isla has your eyes." Toji leaned on the kitchen island, his eyes burning a trail on your body from head to toe.

"Maybe that's because I birthed her. Have you been making sure they learn Spanish when they're at your house?"

"I don't speak Spanish. So no. That's something you do."

"We both have to do it or else they won't learn. Megumi can speak pretty well in Spanish, but Isla wants to be just like you so she hasn't been speaking it. When I talk to her in Spanish, she answers in English."

"I mean, that means she understands, right?"

You sucked your teeth. "Fuck!" You yelped as you burn your hand.

Toji ran to you, pressing his body against yours as you examine your burn. You felt his hard abs on your back - you remember how sculpted he is. Like a fucking Greek God.

"I don't need your help." You swat his hand away as he tries to grab your hand.

Toji stands still for a moment, his head leaning down toward your neck. You can feel his breath dance along your skin before he inhales deeply through his nose.

"Where were you today?" His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"None of your damn business." You take your not burnt hand and push his chest gently so he's farther away from you.

"You don't smell like the perfume you usually wear."

"Nice observation." You raised your eyebrows. "What do you want me to say?" You placed both of your hands on the counter. "I have needs, Toji. And unlike you - standards. I'm lucky if I can find one man that I can go on more than 1 date with."

"What's his name?" He walks opposite of you to the other side of the counter.

"What is this, 21 questions? He's not meeting the kids any time soon so him and his name don't concern you."

"Can he fuck that pretty little pussy better than me?" His voice was smooth like velvet.

But one thing about you - you know all of Toji's tricks. You know what makes him tick. What makes his eye twitch.

"Matter of fact, he does. He stuffs me full." You emphasize the word 'full', biting your lower lip before you say the word.

"Tsk." Toji pushed the barstool into the kitchen island and walked into the living room. You knew that would get him the hell away from you.

"That was yummy mommy! Thank you." Megumi gave you a toothy smile as you took his plate. "Can daddy start my bath?"

"He absolutely can." You catch yourself glaring at Toji as you speak. He's been suspiciously silent since your discussion in the kitchen.

Isla helped (as much as she could) clean up the kitchen as Toji helped Megumi with his bath. Then he helped with Isla and her bedtime routine. You could hear her giggling in the bathroom as he played with her.

You and Toji tucked Isla in first in her room, then Megumi in his room. They both seemed so happy to see both of their parents in the same place. Not arguing, at least in front of them, for once.

"Goodnight baby." You push Megumi's hair to the side and kiss his forehead. He looks just like Toji it's scary.

"Night mommy, night daddy." Toji kissed Megumi's cheek.

You closed his door gently and walked to what used to be your shared room with Toji. "Get home safe." You say as you start to brush your hair.

"Never said I was leaving, mama." Toji walked into your room and closed the door gently, careful not to wake the kids.

"This is my house, the kids are asleep so you have no excuse to be here." You turn to face Toji thinking he was a few feet from you.

When you turn, you almost hit yourself in the face with his chiseled chest. How is he so quiet?

"I do have an excuse to be here." Toji brought his calloused hand to your cheek, caressing it gently. "You."

"Don't touch me." You swat his hand away. "You can leave now."

"We're just getting started sweetheart." Toji peered at you through his long lashes. "Your boyfriend won't mind, will he?"

"He will mind." You take a step back from him. "I don't want to fuck the city's community dick."

"You loved this dick before, 'member baby?" Toji took a step toward you. "You used to beg me to give you another baby."

"Keyword is used to." You place your hand on his chest and push gently. "You make me crazy, Fushiguro. I don't want to feel crazy anymore."

"Mm, say my name again." Toji whispered, his eyes moving from your eyes to your chest. "You wore that lace number for me, didn't ya doll?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you turned around on your heel and walked toward your bed. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"We're just getting started baby girl." He grabbed your wrist, pulling you back into him.

"I'm seeing someone Toji, I can't." You look up into his dark blue eyes. "I like him. I really, really like him."

"Well isn't that just the sweetest thing." He dragged his finger along the side of your face, trailing to your chin. "He doesn't have to know."

You inhaled Toji's familiar scent, memories flooding of your failed marriage into your mind. You can't lie, you've thought about having sex with Toji a lot. Especially right after the divorce. The first few women he slept with after you bruised your ego, but after that you decided to be done wishing he would come back.

Done wishing he would act right.

But damn, do you miss his dick.

"Come on, baby. Let me make you feel good." Toji leaned into your space, pressing his lips against yours slowly. Your lips were like magnets when they met, refusing to take even a breath because you want to savor the moment.

You buried your hands in his straight, black hair as he lifts you up effortlessly, his hands planted on the fat of your ass.

"Damn, this thing got bigger didn't it?" Toji gave your ass cheek a squeeze as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You moaned at the new sensation in your mouth, your core already heating up.

"Bed, mmm, now." You suck on his tongue gently, saliva connecting your mouths when you pull away from each other.

Toji threw you on your back onto the bed gently, watching your tits jiggle in your lace tank top. He caged you with his sculpted arms as he kissed your skin from your neck, to your chest, your soft stomach, to the top of your sweatpants.

"I can't believe you carried my two beautiful children in there." Toji kissed your stomach, a spot you've always been insecure about. "I'm gonna give you 'nother one, mama." He growled as he pulled down your sweatpants swiftly. "No panties, hm? You wanted this to happen, didn't you?"

Your cheeks burn red and you cover your face with your hands.

"I've seen all of you, baby. No point in hiding." His large, heavy hands landed on top of yours as he moved your hands off your face.

In that moment, it felt like there was no one in the word but you and Toji. Like it was the beginning of your relationship and you were obsessed with each other.

Like it used to be.

Toji got lost in your eyes for a moment before pressing his lips to yours for a deep, affectionate kiss. It wasn't like the frenzied kiss from before.

He wanted to remember this moment.

With his ex wife.

The mother of his children.

You cradle his face in your dainty hands as you kiss him, letting your tongue slip in and out of his mouth.

"Missed you, mama." He whispered against your lips.

You didn't verbally answer, only deepening the kiss in response. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of saying you missed him too.

Even though you did.

And actions speak louder than words.

Toji knew how to take care of your body. He did for years. He starts with your mouth, then he leaves love bruises bites on your neck, making his way to your chest. Arguably his favorite part of your body.

After you had your children, your body changed a lot. You were never chiseled like Toji, you were always soft, but the kids made your tits bigger, your stomach softer, and your hips wider.

Toji's lips attached to your collarbone as he left a trail of heated kisses to your right breast, using his hand to gently pull down the delicate lacey fabric.

"These tits, my God." Toji flicked your nipple with his index finger. "I can't believe I've been without them for so long."

You moaned softly at the contact, your body seemingly remember how many times Toji has made you come. How many times he's pleasured you to the point that you couldn't walk. You arched your back towards him at his touch.

"Easy, mama. Let me savor this moment, yeah?" His eyes were locked on yours as he brought his mouth to your hard nub, his hand kneading your left breast. He sucked gently as he stared into your eyes, refusing to break eye contact.

"Fuck, Toji." You arch your back again, bringing your hand to the back of his head as he sucks on your tit.

"Remember when these were full of milk? And you let me try it?" His smirk was sinister.

You bit down on your bottom lip, thinking about when you discovered one of Toji's many kinks.

"Answer me." He let go of your nipple with a 'pop'.

"Y-yes." You nod, pulling on his hair gently.

"I'm gonna put another baby in you, and we're doing that again."

"Toji," You moan his name at the thought of him covering your insides with his juices.

"You want me to, don't ya?" Toji was at your other nipple now, giving it the same attention as the other.

You nod when he bites your nipple when you don't answer him verbally. "Don't act like I don't know how you fuck, baby." He sucked on the skin next to your nipple, leaving a purple and red bruise that will for sure be sore tomorrow.

"I need you." You whine when his lips meet yours again.

"You're missing something there." Toji teased. "You need to use your words mama."

"I need you, Daddy."

Toji flipped the both of you over so he was now laying on the bed, maneuvering himself to lean on the headboard as he pulled you on his lap. He attacked your lips with frenzied kisses as you palmed his erection that's pressing against his sweatpants.

He's so, so big. So girthy. You wondered if he would still be able to fit inside you.

"No one touches me like you do, baby girl." Toji grabbed your face with his hands as he continued to kiss you.

He used one hand to press your cheeks together, a smile forming on his face as he looks at your chubby cheeks. "You're so damn beautiful."

You slid your palm back to his hard cock, rubbing it gently on top of the fabric. You feel your core ache as you touch him - your fingers tracing along the length.

"Ride me." Toji leaned into your ear and whispered before he kissed your earlobe.

He didn't have to ask you twice.

He quickly removed his sweatpants and boxers, his large length slapping against his stomach. You moan at the sight. He's beautiful.

You throw your pajama pants to the side, your core wet and hot, waiting for his cock to fill you.

You stare at him for a moment - he's naked, on your bed, waiting for you to sit on his cock. You kissed the scar at the corner of his mouth before gently grabbing his length to align him with your needy pussy.

You never needed lube with Toji, even with how big he is. He always knew how to get you going.

He gently planed his hands on your hips and guided you down his length, both of you moaning at the contact. His size stretched you out, and inch by inch he watched his cock disappear inside of you.

Once you took all of him, you gained your rhythm. You placed your hands on his shoulders as you grind your hips against his.

"Atta girl." He slapped your ass as you moved up and down his length. "I missed you so much." He placed one of his hands on the small of your back, helping you keep up with your pace.

Toji loved when you moved your ass as you rode him, so you made sure you threw it back every time his eyes were on you.

"This pussy was made for me." He threw his head back as squelching, lewd sounds filled the room. He started pumping into you more - he's close.

"Toji," You moan loudly as his he brings his hands to your sensitive clit, rubbing circles as your body bounces on him. Your body twitches soon after. You're close.

"Come on mama, you know the rules. You come first."

Your pussy tightens around his length, his fingers still rubbing you as your mind explodes with euphoria. You ride out your orgasm, Toji thrusting into you roughly with disoriented strokes.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you as he pulls you down one last time, filling you up with his seed. It was almost leaking out of you.

Neither of you move from your position. You stare at each other, the thoughts and sounds of what just happened replaying in your heads.

"I did miss you." He whispered as he pressed his lips to yours.

"Mm." You kissed him back, afraid to get off his cock. You missed him too.

When you finally got off each other Toji suggested you shower together. The warm water mixed with the scents of your coconut body wash made it all the more sensual.

So you fucked again.

Soapy thrusts as he had to pinned to the wall, ass facing him.

"Love watching you from here." His eyes were glued on your ass bouncing against his cock. The suds from the soap slid down your skin, creating more lewd squelches.

You woke up in bed with your ex husband's strong, sculpted arms around you.

The sunlight snuck into the room through your blinds, the warmness kissing your skin. Your wearing your favorite pajama set, Toji's sweatpants hanging off of his hips, his v-line exposed.

Then you hear your door swing open.

"Mommy!" You hear Megumi's cute voice. "Wait, daddy? You slept over?"

Toji's eyes flew open. He looked at Megumi before grabbing him and pulling him in between you and Toji. Isla climbed into your bed soon after. You hugged both your children, and the father of your children.

The bed was full of giggles - Toji tickling both his babies and lifting them in the air. You haven't heard Megumi laugh like this in months.

You missed this. You missed your family.

You bring one of your hands to your stomach, your insides coated with Toji.

And you can't help but hope there's another little Fushiguro growing inside of you.

[convenientalias]

Why Nirvana in Fire Wins at Revenge Story with Identity Porn

Nirvana in Fire was my first ever cdrama that was a revenge story with identity porn. Since then, I've seen many other dramas along similar lines. A League of Nobleman. Blood of Youth. City of Streamer. Fighting for Love. Legend of Anle. Long Ballad. Princess Weiyoung. Rise of Phoenixes. Sword Dynasty. Weaving a Tale of Love. Word of Honor. Some of them are quite good but none of them really hit the same way. So, apart from the fact that it was the first one I ever watched, I thought I'd made a brief list of reasons why I think Nirvana in Fire is the best.

Lin Shu's Identity

I just appreciate that when shit went down and Lin Shu's whole family and army and many of his friends were killed and he became a man on the run, he was a full-grown man (okay, still pretty young, but definitely not a child) with his own life and even an army position.

A lot of these identity porn dramas will have their MCs meeting ppl for the first time in many years, in disguise, but they only knew these ppl when they were children. Childhood friends are great and all that, but can they hit as hard as the complicated, fleshed out relationships that Lin Shu had and lost? He had a friendship of many years with Jingyan. He had an engagement and a longstanding friendship with Nihuang. He has friends from the army, younger cousins playing the role of "we don't even understand what happened back then and maybe that's better", older friends and relations who he actually knew as an adult.

Simultaneously, his past identity increases the threat of discovery for Lin Shu. He's a known factor to many, many people in the capital. Yes, they think he's dead. But small things like a hazelnut allergy or his mannerisms or his previous friendships with people are still memorable enough that even with a completely different face, if he's not careful, he might give himself away. He's not infiltrating a group of strangers or people who only knew him as a kid. He's infiltrating a group of people who were close to him for many, many years of his life.

HOWEVER. Lin Shu's identity is not so important that everyone in the capital is still obsessed with him twelve years later (with some exceptions). This isn't Mysterious Lotus Casebook where we're all still pining for Li Xiangyi, because...

2. The Chiyan Case Wasn't Even About Lin Shu?? (Also, No One Cares About That Ancient History Anymore (Jingyan, Sit Down))

The Chiyan case wasn't about the Lin family at all, really.

No one specifically wanted Lin Shu dead or had a big grudge against his dad or anything. It's all about power, military and political. For some conspirators, it was just about getting a leg up in court. But mostly, it was about Prince Qi, the previous crown prince. The Lin family just happened to be friends with him and ended up in an uncomfortable (highly murderable and frameable) position.

Lin Shu may mourn his family, but for the majority of the show, he doesn't talk about it. He doesn't talk about his mother and his family back at the capital either committing suicide or being killed indiscriminately. He only mentions his father's name a handful of times in the whole show. Lin Shu's drive is that his father's ARMY was killed, tens of thousands of men. That's the weight on Lin Shu's shoulders: the death of all these innocent men because they were in the way. The Chiyan Case; the Chiyan Massacre. The denouement of Lin Shu's victory (not to give too many spoilers) is not just his father's name being cleared of a treason charge. It's when there's finally a memorial put up for the Chiyan Army, with memorial tablets that he can publicly visit to pay respects.

Why does this make it a better revenge story with identity porn? A couple reasons. First, Lin Shu is very much the center of the story and has very personal beef, but he treats himself like a tool and his objective isn't about himself or familial connections (they're part of it but they're not everything). He doesn't even know all the people he's avenging. That's fine; he'll still carry that weight. I just think it's neat.

Second, the fact that the Lin family (and the whole Chiyan Army) were really just collateral damage for getting rid of Prince Qi really emphasizes just how careless the current regime is of the value of human life.

Third, as Meng Zhi says when Lin Shu comes to the capital, everyone at court is busy with their own little power struggles and no one has time to care about Lin Shu or protect him. Lin Shu's like yeah that's fine :) I'm not anyone's focus anymore and the Lin family has been swept under the rug like we never existed :) and no one even talks about the Chiyan case anymore for fear of being accuse of treason :) that's all okay because I'm about TO MAKE THIS EVERYONE'S PROBLEM ANYWAY and honestly the fact that everyone's trying their hardest to forget will just make them more oblivious when I come to fuck them up.

3. All Of This is Whose Fault, Again?

That's right, folks, we're in a show that knows that when shit goes down at court and your family gets framed for treason and the emperor orders them executed, sure, you can blame the conspirators who framed them all you want, but also, YOU KIND OF DO HAVE TO BLAME THE EMPEROR.

People have said enough about how great this is on a thematic level of accountability but seriously I've seen so many shows dodge this. ~It's not the emperor's fault bc he was misled by these conspirators~ or ~the emperor is only a puppet emperor, if he actually had power instead of this evil person, he would put everything right.~ Or, if they dare to blame the emperor, maybe he's just an evil emperor and was bad all along. NIF says yeah, he was lied to on many levels. There was a whole complicated conspiracy going on and many people to blame. But he could have taken things slower. He could have required better evidence. He could have trusted people who had supported him for many years, at least enough to listen to their side of the story BEFORE KILLING THEM. And why didn't he? It's not because he's an idiot. It's because he's an emperor, and emperors don't like seeing other people gain enough power to even potentially become a threat. It's because he wasn't looking for the truth, he was looking for an excuse to kill. And he's not unusually evil for that; this kind of callousness towards murder and grasping for power at all costs is more the norm at court than any kind of honor or morality.

The Emperor's a nice guy sometimes! He used to fly kites with Lin Shu when he was young! His sons give him a headache, but honestly, relatable, they'd give you a headache too! He likes Consort Jing and honestly, who wouldn't! And he killed one of his sons, one of his closest friends, and an entire army, and he would do it again without hesitation. He's not especially evil. Being an emperor is bad enough.

4. Other Bad Guys

It's worth mentioning that Lin Shu's opponents are not stupid.

Xie Yu and Xia Jiang, Prince Yu and the Crown Prince, even the Empress and Noble Consort Yue: They aren't all geniuses, but they aren't idiots flailing around in spite. They're pretty smart, and if Lin Shu wants to take them down, he has to be smarter.

It's also worth mentioning that this is not one of those shows where the protagonist happens to take down his opponents mostly by standing still and just defending himself when they lash out at him. This seems like an obvious thing in a revenge drama, but the number of times I've seen the opposite, the protagonist swearing revenge and then just struggling with self preservation.... but no. Lin Shu has A Plan. He is going to be proactive and actually take his enemies down. Admittedly he will do this by revealing their past misdeeds but this isn't a case of "the misdeeds will just happen to pop up". This is a case of "I will actively unearth skeletons from where you threw them in a well in an abandoned manor".

TO SUM UP

Without going into the things that make Nirvana in Fire a great show in general (great acting, good pacing and plotting, good costuming, and so on and so forth) I think the main things that make it hit for me as a revenge story with identity porn are 1) letting the MC's past identity be that of a grown man who actually had a life (more connections to the past, but also more to lose and more danger in the present as a result), 2) the fact that the offense that the MC is avenging wasn't even like a personal thing to the offenders (bc! it's fucking infuriating!), 3) the fact that the drama is willing to face the root of the problem (the problem is both corruption at court and the fact that the highest arbiter is flawed, not just individual conspirators), 4) the supply of multiple good antagonists, and 5) LETTING THE MC ACTUALLY, ACTIVELY PURSUE REVENGE AND THAT'S THE MAIN PLOT AND WE AREN'T SPENDING MOST OF OUR SCREENTIME ON SIDEPLOTS AND ROMANCE OR MERE SELF PRESERVATION. These may not seem like large things but my friends, you would be surprised how many revenge dramas I've watched at this point that can't do them.

ok I'm done ranting. Feel like most of this is actually stating the obvious but I'm just in a mood and had to get it out. (...also possibly I've been let down by some revenge dramas lately but I won't get into it. it's okay. we can't all be Nirvana in Fire; only Nirvana in Fire can be Nirvana in Fire.)

[yujiqi]

match made in heaven

stranger!hyunjin x wealthy f!reader

synopsis: you’re feeling desperate tonight so you decide to look for someone to hook up with on a dating app and it seems you guys could be more than a one night stand

genre/s: smut, fluff

warnings: oral f!receiving, vanilla sex, lil bit of dry humping

wc: 1.7k

a/n: listen to singularity - bts while reading! i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not that good but i feel bad for not posting so heres a little smth! mostly proofread!

you long for evenings like this. sipping on a glass of wine, taking a hot bath with a rich lavender essence filling the bathroom.

"miss y/n, your food has arrived. shall i leave it here?" you hear your butler from the other side of the door.

"leave it on my coffee table, thank you"

you hear his footsteps fading away. being wealthy is fun. many people say money cant buy happiness but you think that's false. they're just saying that because they don't have money.

you live alone, your butler and the others that do your housework come early in the morning, but by midnight, it's just you. a part of you wishes you had someone to spend your nights with. you’re the ceo of the company your dad owns. some say you were born with a silver spoon. they aren't wrong, but it does bother you how people badmouth you behind your back when you could easily end their career.

you take the last sip of your wine and set the glass down. you carefully step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself. the aroma of food fills your nostrils. you ordered lobster with a couple other sides. your butler left a new bottle of wine right by it. you usually don't have big meals like this but it’s friday and it’s been a tiring week. you hear your phone ring and you hesitate for a moment. you don't feel like talking to anyone right now. it’s your mom calling. she's always bugging you about how you need to get married.

"hello" you finally answer the phone.

"y/n. what did i tell you about ignoring my calls." she sounds mad.

"you know i'm busy, mom"

"too busy to answer the woman that brought you to this planet?"

"mom," you pause for a second because you really don't wanna do this right now. "i have to go"

"when are you going to get married, y/n" you feel like she can practically hear your eye roll at this point.

"why are you so worried about that when i'm literally the ceo of a company? i'm well off, i don’t need a man" you protest.

"i just think it would be best if you settled with a man, have a kid that will soon takeover the company too"

"i'm going to sleep. goodnight" and with that, you hang up.

you’re 26, she seriously needs to back off a bit. although you do feel you should find a man. you don't want a man to settle down with though, you want a man to satisfy you and pleasure you. lord knows you need it. you can't remember the last time you had sex. maybe 3 years ago? you’ve been so busy, you haven't had time to think about yourself. you look at your phone and can't believe what you’re about to do. you open the app store and type in "hookup apps".

you’re shocked you’d stoop this low, but you’re feeling really desperate tonight. you open the app and it asks for the basics. name, age, city, and a few extra questions. the app is very quick to find matches. none of them interest you until someone catches your eye.

hyunjin, 23, seoul

cool, hes 3 years younger than you but you can make it work. you send a request to him and he immediately sends a message.

hyunjin: into younger guys i see?

me: im gonna be honest... im really desperate rn

hyunjin: oh yeah? dont u wanna know even a little bit about me?

me: not really

hyunjin: i could be an old white man yk

me: the fact that ur saying that alr lets me know ur not

hyunjin: true

me: ill give u my address then

hyunjin: already???

me: i told u im desperate

you send him your address and anxiously wait in the lobby area of your penthouse. you mess with the strap on your velvet robe. you’re not wearing anything underneath so easy access, right? you get a message from hyunjin asking for the gate code. you give it to him and soon you hear the doorbell chime throughout the house. you quickly get up and open the massive door for him.

"woah" his mouth wide open, pure shock on his face

"you like it?"

"i'm not talking about the house, i'm talking about you" he says.

well that's a first. you don't get many guests, but when you do, all they talk about is the house.

"you're bold" is all you manage to let out. he's fine. incredibly fine. the way his long black his falls perfectly onto his shoulders. you notice the mole under eye. how unique. he's also very tall, much taller than you at least. he has long, slim fingers and your mind can't help but imagine what he can do with them.

"do you want a glass of wine?" you ask him

"i thought you were horny"

"i am, i'm just building up to it" you look up at him with those eyes. the ones that make any guy melt. you grab his hand and lead him upstairs to your room. we sit on the couch and you pour him a glass. even while he drinks, he doesn't take his eyes off of you. he looks hungry and you like it.

"this is a nice place you have" he says, setting down the glass.

"yeah, i'm the ceo of my dad's company" you’re not really one to brag so you don't know why you said that, internally face palming. he nods and continues to stare into your eyes. he then looks down to catch a glimpse at what you’re wearing. the hunger in his eyes grows even more. with the way he's looking at you, you don't think you can sit still any longer. you get closer to him. he watches you closely. you look at him and ask,

"what do you want?"

"you" is all he says before placing his lips on yours. he kisses you so slow and sensually, just how you like it. you wrap your arms around his neck and your hand moves to the back of his head. he deepens the kiss, if that was even possible. he adjusts himself on the couch, making you sit on his lap. you can't help but to slightly grind against him due to the lack of friction. he lets out a slight groan into the kiss. so he likes this... good to know.

"hyunjin, please" you breathe between kisses

he only lets out a low moan in response. his hands find your robe strap. he wastes no time unraveling it. you get goosebumps from the cold air. but the second his hands land on your bare chest, you feel hot. he plays with your breasts for a while before breaking the kiss. his lips move to your jaw, then neck, then collarbone. you start to breathe heavy as you wait for him to put his mouth where you want it the most.

he kisses the area right above your left nipple and takes it in his mouth soon after. you almost immediately moan at the sensation you haven't felt in forever. you run your fingers gently through his hair as his face is shoved in your chest.

"hyunjin, the bed" you whisper into his ear. he stops feasting on you and looks into your eyes with that same look from before, but this one more desperate. he hurriedly picks you up and places you on your king bed, white satin sheets. your lips connect again with the slow and sensual pace as hyunjin climbs on top of you. it feels like you’ve been doing this all night but its only been a few minutes. you pull his shirt over his head. he has a slim appearance, but also has visible abs. what a sight. he's so beautiful, you admire him before he starts to kiss down your stomach. he gets closer and closer to your pussy and you want to moan before he even does anything. you like that in this moment, no words are needed. you’re taking things slowly. you desperately want him to touch and feel every part of you. he looks up at you before eating you out like you’re his last meal. with every movement of his tongue, you feel like you’re in heaven knowing you’re far from it. you thrust your hips, shoving yourself further into his mouth. he pulls your legs further apart, trying to taste every inch of you. there's that familiar yet unfamiliar feeling building up in you.

a breathy "hyun m’gonna" is all that can come out of your mouth.

"not yet love" he moves away from your pulsing cunt. you’re about to whine before he shuts you up with another kiss. he sits up to unbutton his pants. he discards his boxers as well. he pumps himself a bit before leaning down to place more kisses onto your lips as if he'll never get to feel them again. he adjusts himself before thrusting into you slowly. gosh it's been so long since you’ve felt something this good. he leans forward onto his elbows, his cock buried deep in you. you feel his breath your my ear. you wrap your arms around him tightly. the way you are right now feels so comfortable. it's like you’ve known him your whole life even though you met 30 minutes ago. he ruts into you deeply and passionately.

"y/n you're doing so good" he breathes out. he holds you tighter, kissing the skin by your ear. his thrusts start to get faster as you both get closer to your orgasm, and your moans get louder. there's that feeling again, except it's much more intense this time. with one final thrust, you both release. it's interesting how you’re so in sync with everything. you don't want this to be your last night with him. you guys catch your breath for a second before he removes his head from your neck to look at you.

"you're amazing" he smiles at you, a sincere one.

"you too" you smile back.

for some reason, it feels like you don't need to say anything else. like you both know what the other is feeling and thinking through everything you just did. it's connections like this that you should cherish. you plan on sticking with him.

"lets stay like this for a while, then get cleaned up, yeah?" he says

you just nod, his hair tickles your chin.

you’ve finally found your match, your match made in heaven.

[god-i-hope-so]

Buck receives the call from Tommy's captain himself in the middle of the night, during his shift. He's Tommy's new emergency number, he's also been at the center of a recent discussion with Tommy's captain about it, after years of not having a real emergency number except his closest coworkers.

Buck arrives at the hospital, a little frantic, still in his uniform. He knows it's "not life threatening" but bad enough for Tommy to undergo emergency surgery. Captain Garcia meets him near the lobby, his left hand in a thick bandage, his arm in a sling.

"Firefighter Buckley? Evan Buckley? Captain Garcia. I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

"Captain."

"We were on a fire near the station, the structure collapsed, probably due to a weakness we couldn't see. A rebar went through his thigh, lots of bleeding, but he should be okay."

"Should?"

"I'm not a doctor, son, but I know when a man's dying. And he wasn't."

Captain Garcia is clear and to the point, and Buck appreciates it.

Waiting alone in the lobby of the hospital in the middle of the night wasn't on his plan for this shift. He could have called Maddie but it was 2 am when he got the call. He'll call her later.

Then a woman and two very sleepy young children sit not too far from him. While she settles the kids on the seats next to her, their head on her lap, her eyes land on Buck.

"You're Evan, right?" she asks in a low voice.

Buck is surprised, he doesn't know her, doesn't recognize her face.

"I'm Sophie, er, Dan's wife, Tommy's coworker. They were together when it happened. I know we never met but I've heard of you and Philip- Captain Garcia told me you were already here."

She looks at him with kind eyes behind her tired and worried expression.

"It's- It's nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm sorry, I- I don't-"

"It's alright, I know Tommy is a very private man." She sighs. "He and Dan have been working together for seven years now. Dan has always been the kind to easily befriend people but Tommy was quite the challenge when he was transferred at the station!"

Her smile is genuine. She's picking at her nails, her hands slightly shaking.

"Can I get you something warm to drink?" Buck proposes, already standing up. He needs to move, idly waiting has never been his thing.

"Oh, coffee? Thank you."

"No problem. Anything for them?" he looks at the sleeping children, realizing they're younger than he first thought.

"Water, for later maybe, I don't want to wake them up."

"Of course."

His smile feels stiff on his own face. He shouldn't be here, meeting the wife of Tommy's coworker on the cold plastic seats of the hospital. He should be with his team, sending bad jokes and flirty messages to Tommy who would indulge him.

When he comes back from the vending machine, Sophie is typing on her phone and doesn't see him.

"Here you go," he says softly, not wanting to startle her.

"Thank you." She tastes the coffee, makes a face and sighs. "At least you know the job," she says with a small smile.

"I guess I do. But..."

"I know. It's worse sometimes, because you know what really happens." She lowers her eyes on her coffee cup, swirling the dark liquid in it. Her loose braid slowly comes undone, letting strands frame her face. "Let's meet again around a meal, when our men are better, yes?"

Our men. Buck never thought about Tommy that way, as part of "our men". He nods.

"I'd love that. Thank you, Sophie."

He wonders if that's what if feels to be a "firefighter's wife", to be the partner of a first responder, meeting around unfortunate events and making plans for better days. Sophie shares stories about the station in hushed voice, telling Buck about the people there, the others wives and partners, the children, the parties and the solidarity. Of course, everything sounds very familiar to Buck, but it's like hearing stories from another family.

Then he hears Tommy's name being called and for a second, he feels dizzy. Sophie almost gets up with him then smiles at him. He realizes he didn't ask about Dan, but he'll make sure to stay in touch through Tommy.

The surgeon is in a hurry but takes a few minutes to explain what she did and what will happen next. Tommy will be fine, his leg will recover but the muscle has been badly damaged and it'll take him some time to go back to his daily routine. Even longer before being able to go back to work.

The room is quiet when he enters, safe for a regular and reassuring beep. Buck hesitates a second, seeing Tommy like that feels crushing, even if his sleeping face looks relaxed. His fingers slip into Tommy's hand before gently squeezing it. Feeling his warmth on his palm soothes his nerves.

"Hey, babe."

[jiniret-writings]

Warm Blankets Pt. 2

Genre: angst, fluff

Pairing: Platonic!ot8 x 9th member!reader

Warnings: self-doubt, feelings of worthlessness

The actions of the members in this story do not represent how they are in real life. This is all fictional and should not be taken seriously.

Pt. 1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3

After buying snacks (and your favorite drink because crying really does numbers on your hydration), you headed back to your dorm and the minute you opened the door, you were met with quite the scene. The entire place looked like a scene from Alice in Wonderland: chaos in the kitchen, chaos in the living room, and something sounded like it crashed in the bathroom, but over it all, the dorm smelled delicious.

When you two walked deeper into the dorm, Minho was the first to look up from what looked like beating eggs. "Hungry?" he asked, pouring the egg mixture onto the pan. Truth was, you were starving. You'd skipped breakfast that day because of an early vocal lesson. Your stomach rumbled low enough for Hyunjin to hear who laughed lightly.

"I think we both are," he said, nudging you in more. Then, like a switch flipped, Hyunjin whined, "Hyuuuuuung! When will it be readyyyyy?" He flopped onto the island seat and laid his head on the counter, watching Minho cook. Minho glared at his younger member, picking up the spatula.

"When you're done cooking in the air fryer," he said in a monotone voice, flashing a Cheshire smile before dropping it and going back to the eggs. You laughed at them, sitting next to Hyunjin and across from Felix. Chan's words still circled your head.

It felt heavy, your head and your heart burdened with the hit of his words and the weight of your thoughts. It had been five years since Stray Kids debuted, yet the whispers never stopped. Comments circled online every month or so about whether you really fit into the group:

I don't know, it's just that the group might thrive more if it weren't for them.

Have you seen the new talker? See how they're off to the side most of the time? They're definitely going to leave the group soon.

I trust Chan and all but I don't know if he was right about them.

It was normal to get hate as an idol but maybe, just maybe, they were right? Hyunjin had reassured you that you were wanted and he was just saying whatever came to mind in his stressed state but, but maybe there were some truth to his words.

As thoughts raced through your head, you stared blankly at the counter. The boys around you looked at you worriedly, giving Hyunjin a look with one question: what happened? He hadn't told them why you had a bad day or what was wrong, but they still rallied to give you warmth and comfort. But you were worrying them. They just wanted the best for you and to do whatever it took to cheer you up.

Wanting to pull you from your thoughts as soon as possible, Hyunjin texted them the short version:

Chan-hyung said he shouldn't have fought for them to be in the group. 2RACHA are on placating duty.

With that sent, Hyunjin put his arm around you to not scare you, but the second you snapped out of your personal trance, Felix ran at you and tackled you to the ground. The little attack came as a surprise to everyone around, leaving them all frozen. The only sound being Felix's "lixie" sounds.

You were shocked as well, arms coming around the slightly older boy on instinct, but eyes still wide. "Felix?!? What was that?!?"

"I love you," he said, digging his face into your neck, causing you to hold in slight laughter because of how much it tickled.

"I love you too but what's this?" you asked, gesturing to the fact that the two of you were still on the floor. At that, he looked down at you, small pout forming.

"My love, y/n/n. Accept it," he said, leaving no room to argue. And in a flash, he stood up, pulling you up with him, and pointed to the pan he was working on with a big smile. "Look! I made brownies, cookies, and a cheesecake! Help me decorate?"

You wanted to refuse, to slip away to your bedroom to lie down and think--no matter how much of a bad idea that was--but the way he was looking at you like you were the sun, how could you not agree? Nodding your head, you walked behind the counter to where Felix was just starting to put on a final layer of frosting on the chilled cake. At that moment, Jeongin and Seungmin strolled. Seungmin sat in the seat you left and Jeongin came up next to you, putting an arm on your shoulder.

"I wanna help too! How do you want to decorate it?" he asked, pointing the question at you. You thought about it and your mind drifted to a movie you had watched recently.

"Lets do it Alice in Wonderland themed?" you asked, unsure if it was a bad idea. The voices around you did well ot drown out your thoughts but they'd pop up every now and again with a new sort of vigor. But with no hesitation, Jeongin just smiled and nodded. Felix brought out red and black food coloring, and started mixing it into different bowls of frosting. At that moment, Minho walked to you with a pair of chopsticks holding a piece of meat. He just brought it to your face and you opened your mouth without a second thought. It was like second nature: if one of your members was feeding you then it must be good.

Your members

The thought brought a feeling of warmth in your chest. Suddenly, tears filled your eyes. You looked away, trying to get them back under control. You shook away the ones that came up, but the warm tightness in your chest refused to let go. You excused yourself to go to the bathroom and once inside, sat on the edge of the bath tub, letting the tears flow.

My members, you thought, letting the tears flow freely.

Back at the kitchen, everyone looked at each other, more worried than before.

"How bad?" Seungmin asked, turning fully to face Hyunjin. He just shook his head, remembering the fight he walked in on.

"Really bad. He was yelling and they were yelling and he suddenly just yelled it out. I grabbed them and took them out right after," he said, looking at all the boys. They shook their head, knowing what it was like when they poked the too-still bear.

"How is he?" Jeongin asked, knowing how this went. Chan cared about all of you, more than he could put into words. Jeongin knew it would only be a matter of time until the eldest realized what he said and started spiraling himself.

"I don't know. The others haven't texted but they're probably just keeping him occupied with work like he wants to be."

Seungmin looked towards the bathroom door, then to the pile of blankets laid out on the living room floor. The table in front of the TV had a cute pink table cloth over it so they could bring all the food out there to eat and watch your favorite show and movies. "Is the food almost done?" he asked, looking at Minho. He nodded and took the lid off of a nearby pot, giving it a final stir.

"Its all done. Just need to plate it and bring it to the table," he said. Jeongin took out the plates from the cabinet behind him and spread them out to make plating easier. Minho thanked the youngest by ruffling his hair and got to plating. Felix and Hyunjin in the meantime were trying to finish up the cake. Felix had just finished doing a slightly lopsided, but still made with love, checkerboard pattern and now Hyunjin was...it was hard to tell if that was Alice or the Cheshire cat, but either way, it was very "Wonderland".

When you walked out of the bathroom, having checked your eyes one last time to make sure they weren't red, you walked straight into Seungmin's back. When he turned around, he just smiled and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you to the mess of blankets.

"What movie should we watch first?" he asked, sitting you down front and center. The boys were each bringing out plates of delicious food and your stomach growled again, much louder this time. You blushed slightly, looking down. Seungmin just laughed and handed you the remote.

"What type of movie?" you asked Seungmin.

"Whatever you want. We're happy with anything," he shrugged, leaning back against one of the pillow piles. With the food finally set, Minho sat behind you, patting your head lightly. You leaned into his hands, which then started massaging your head. The other boys came around too, Felix sitting on your other side and Jeongin and Hyunjin sitting on either side of Minho on the couch.

Felix grabbed one of the blankets from behind you and draped it across your back so it was hugging you. He then started passing around the plates of food to everyone as you finalized a movie.

With everyone snuggled in, you watched the movie and ate happily, laughing with your members as they recreated scenes, repeated funny lines, and made comments throughout the entire movie. Finishing your food, you put the plate back on the table, passing Minho’s and Jeongin’s plates onto the table as well, before putting your head on Felix’s shoulder and snuggling close.

Felix smiled down at you, grabbing a duck plushie and putting him gently into your arms. You looked from the stuffed duck to Felix and back to the duck. You smiled at it and gave it a squeeze.

You suddenly felt a small pressure on your hand and turned to see Seungmin had scooted closer to you and put his hand on top of yours. He gave your hand a squeeze and gave you a small smile before turning back to the TV.

Now feeling someone pat your head, you looked up and saw Minho patting it softly. Next to him, Jeongin was looking through a bag of clips you hadn't seen before and was picking out all the clips in your favorite color. You looked forward again and the tears were building up again. You held them back as much as you could when suddenly, Hyunjin huffed from above.

Before you could ask what happened, the tall boy made his way in font of you, Seungmin, and Felix and just flopped on all three of you. You all groaned at the sudden weight, moving every way to avoid getting his by his arms and legs as he found a position that wasn't extremely uncomfortable. Once settled, he looked at you with a cheeky smile, that then turned into a soft one. He brought his hands to your face and wiped the few tears that had escaped. He didn't say anything further, just patting your cheek and turning back.

Everything was calm now, the second movie now playing. You felt warm, both outside and inside. You always believed actions spoke louder than words, and the way the members all cared for you and spent time with you, how could you not feel welcomed? This was your family. Now, this was part of your family. You still had three members that you know care for you too.

Chan's words still hurt and you weren't just going to blindly forgive him, but he was still part of this big and crazy family you found when you found them years ago.

"We're never letting you go, I hope you know that," Seungmin muttered next to you, now holding your arm. Felix and Jeongin nodded, Felix placing a small kiss on your wet cheek.

"Never. It doesn't matter what people online say or what's said in the heat of an argument. We're never letting go," Jeongin said, squeezing your shoulder for good measure.

"The big bad wolf was extra grouchy today, which means everything out of his mouth was a big bad lie," Minho said, kissing the top of your head.

"If he's the big bad wolf, who is little red riding hood?" Hyunjin asked, turning his entire body--eliciting a groan from you, Felix, and Seungmin--and looking at Minho.

Without missing a beat, he looked at Hyunjin and said, "You are, you're going to get eaten soon."

"Do I taste good?"

"Go into the kitchen and find out," Minho said, standing up and going to grab Hyunjin, but he was quick. He got off of you three and ran to the kitchen, and he and Minho had a mini chase around the kitchen island. You laughed at their chase, moved by the kind words and the usual shenanigans of the members.

Jeongin came down in front of you and laid his head on your lap, looking up. "You're a important part of our group, y/n/n. We all love you here." You smiled at the youngest and wiped the last tears before they could escape. The lull of the TV, the comforting sounds of chaos from the kitchen, and the warmth from the members around you made you feel safe, and stopping yourself from fighting it off, you fell into a comfortable sleep, the negative thoughts nowhere to be found.

Here's the second part! I am genuinely so thankful for everyone who has read and liked part 1. I didn't even think it would get as much attention as it did! I finished part 2 early so I figured I would upload it a bit early!

I'm in the process of writing part 3, but I hope to get it done soon! Part 3 will have a happy ending, so I hope you enjoy that when it comes out as well! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. And as always, have a great morning, afternoon, evening, and night!

-Jini

Divider made by: @cafekitsune

Taglist: @neyangi

[hellishjoel]

cherry 

7.6k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Joel invites you over for a movie night with your parents and Sarah out of town. How are you supposed to focus on the film with his hand on your thigh? 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20s while Joel is in his 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, softdom! Joel AND dom!Joel (restraint by command), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, reader titty appreciation, super descript about Joel’s bulging biceps (we all know the picture that came out with him holding onto his luggage and I have not REST)

A/N: I wrote all of this today.. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope these two are growing on ya'll as much as they're growing on me <33

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him.  You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder.  “You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

A few times throughout the summer, the lakehouse was yours and yours alone.  While on vacation, your parents always make it a point to go out to dinner and drinks with their old friends that lived in a neighboring town, leaving you in blissful solitude. 

You used to go with them when you were younger, too young to be left home alone. You’d hang out with their son, Nathan, on the tire swing or go swimming in their pool. 

Once you and Nathan both turned thirteen, you found that Nathan was involved in a lot of sports leagues that summer, and therefore he wasn’t going to be around much. Your parents didn’t want to punish you and force you to hang out with four grown adults all day, so they let you stay behind at the lakehouse. 

It was your first sense of freedom, taking care of yourself, having your own routine. You remember breaking into your piggy bank and riding your bike into town with Sarah that day to play at the arcade. You came back home with your lackluster arcade prizes and made mediocre hot dogs. It was a little lonely, the house often bustling with noise from your parents, but it was also serene to be alone. 

Needless to say, you were at peace to wave your parents off this morning as they backed out of the driveway and left you and the lakehouse for the day. 

Your eyes flitted over to the Miller’s. Both Joel’s pickup truck and Sarah’s used and abused 2000’s red Saturn were parked in the shade. Part of you couldn’t believe Sarah could even drive. That five-year-ish age difference felt even more profound as young adults. 

You tried to find ways to busy yourself tonight until your date with Joel. Date? Not a date. Hang out. Movie night. Meet up. Rendezvous. Literally any other word besides date. 

You needed to distract yourself because tonight was a ways away. 

You busied yourself with cleaning your room and bathroom, followed by reading on the dock. When it got too warm, you took a refreshing dip in the lake, followed by some leisurely sunbathing. After a shower, you found solace in jotting down your thoughts in your journal, channeling any residual nerves about the upcoming night.

You found that documenting your summer experiences provided you with a sense of clarity. You aimed to revisit these entries later in life, reminiscing about the intensity of your emotions. These pages held memories of your first boyfriend, the elation of passing your driving test, the ache of lost friendships, and the journey to college.

After the bonfire, before you couldn’t even think about sleeping, you were ferociously writing in your journal. The way your heart raced, the way you were so proud of yourself for taking a leap of faith with Joel. Because it was so, so worth it. 

In the decades to come, the memories you once experienced that felt so fresh would naturally fade. That’s the point of your journals, to document how deeply you felt about your life at the time. Pouring your emotions onto the page felt like tending to a wounded heart. In hindsight, those entries about sadness and turmoil elicited a little giggle. Your mom always told you that it was better to feel anything than not to feel at all. 

You wondered how much Joel felt, like, really felt. On the surface, he was as cold and unmoveable as stone. What was he like with his passions and the people he cared about? You knew he loved Sarah to an unimaginable degree. He would do anything for her. But besides his own blood, what were the things he cared about? 

After putting pen to paper, you shoved your journal under your pillow and started to get ready. You over-dicked-around, and now the clock was ticking.  

You wanted to look somewhat nice. After your recent interactions with Joel, one where you quite literally looked like you just rolled out of bed, you were keen on looking at least somewhat presentable. 

But it was a movie night, after all, and you wanted to be comfortable. You opted to wear something simple, not too date-ey, not too casual. But you did wear Joel’s hoodie. It wasn’t for any overt purpose but because Joel’s house consistently seemed to mimic an icebox. Joel struck you as someone who could thrive in Alaska, content in solitude amid the cold. 

The hoodie still smelled like him, mixed with a little residual bonfire smoke, but his scent was still deeply lodged into the fabric. A navy hoodie with fraying material around the neckline and cuffs. Well-worn and well-loved. He must have loved it enough not to take it to work because it was free of any stains and rips from what you could tell. 

You twirled your finger around the hoodie’s strings, looking yourself over slowly in the mirror. Your eagerness practically floated you over to Joel’s house, Sarah’s car now gone. She must have left for her camping trip. 

After taking cautious steps up Joel’s rickety porch, you sent a rhythmic knock against the Miller’s front door. You heard a few heavy steps on the other side, hearing a lock flip before Joel appeared in front of you.

“It’s about time, I was starting to sweat.” You said as you pulled open the screen door that divided you two before walking past him, catching his subtle eye roll as you did so. 

The house looked like the same as it did ten years ago. Lots of dark wood, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and a lamp in the corner by the window. Joel had the perfect view of the lake. You naturally gravitated further into the room to look at the water glisten as the last hits of sunshine glided over the horizon. 

“You want somethin’ to drink?” 

Your head snapped to Joel, your arms already crossed at the cooler temperature piercing through the material of your clothes. 

“Yeah, what do you have?” Your small steps trekked into the kitchen, finally taking a full look at Joel. Your face faltered at the sight of him. 

Joel had traded in his usual tattered green flannel for a nicer, cleaner denim button-up. He had on his staple worn-in jeans, and for whatever reason, he still had on his work boots. But his hair was sort of run-through, freshly showered and combed back. He looked handsome, clean, like he was trying. 

You slyly smiled at him. He seemed to quickly catch your drift, already avoiding your eye contact with a huff. “I got... Whiskey,”

“Ew, no.” 

“Root beer,”

“Nope.”

Joel let out an excruciatingly long sigh as he ducked his head further into the depths of his fridge, mumbling something about you being a piece of work.

“It’s water, or,” with a groan, he stood up from the fridge, “this bottle of wine. Probably old.” 

Old? The bottle looked nothing but. No dust, fresh label, barely chilled. You didn’t want to call out the poor man for trying to make tonight classy, but you knew Joel had purchased this bottle of wine for tonight. For you. 

If it were any other date or any other guy, you would have pushed his nose into it a bit. Teased them for caring and being so sweet. But this wasn’t any other guy, this was Joel. And if you ever tried to admit that you saw right through him, he would clam up for the rest of the evening out of his adorable bashfulness. So you let it be. For now. 

“Wine’s good.” You say casually with a little nod, trying to relax your cocky smile. Even when he turned around to fetch some old wine glasses inside the very top of a kitchen cabinet, you could tell he was satisfied with himself. Hiding a smile with his back turned. 

You pulled the bottle closer to read the label. You rolled it around in your hand, your thumb tracing the stamped lettering. Cherry wine. 

“Haven’t had a chance to eat all day, got us some pizzas,” Joel said as his head nodded to the side, following the direction to two pizzas still warm and in their cardboard box homes on the counter. 

“Can’t have a movie night without pizza.” Your voice cooed as you set down the wine to take a peak inside, seeing all of its cheesy glory. 

Joel topped off a singular wine glass, your head twisting curiously at just the one. He clinked your glass with his beer bottle, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Thanks.” You murmured, turning on your heel to grab your glass and one of the pizza boxes before walking it to his living room. 

You sat right in the middle of the couch, not giving Joel any excuse to sit too far away. 

“Scootch,” Joel said as he motioned with his beer bottle to make room on the couch. You made a little noise of disapproval toward him. 

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head.

“What?”

Your sneaker tapped the heel of his boot. 

“Take those off. You can’t relax during a movie still wearing work boots.” 

He looked a little perplexed before looking down at his boots. Probably forgot they were even on. They were practically his spare feet at this point. 

“Fine. You too.” He said as his steel toe gently nudged your sneakers in return. You softly nodded, both of you undoing your laces. Sitting on the couch arm, Joel worked to loosen one boot and then the other, hearing the methodical snap of the laces. You slip yours off with ease, picking them up by the upper heel collar and tossing them by the door. Joel just kicked his aside and sat down next to you with a thump into the cushion. 

“We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.” You commandeered the remote out of his hand, his eyebrow cocking to you in disbelief. 

“The hell is that?”

Disbelief tangled your facial expression. “You’ve never seen Pride & Prejudice?”

Joel’s cocked his head to the side, face sitting like stone. Really? 

“Do I look like the type’a guy that watches Pride & Prejudices?” 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. 

“It’s based on the novel by Jane Austen. About... literally so much. The independence of women. Societal norms relating to gender and marriage. Any of this ring a bell?” 

“I know Sarah likes it. That’s about it.” Your smile quips up as you click play. “Perfect.” 

“Do we have to?” His annoyance held no restraint. 

“This movie night is to get back into my good graces, is it not?” You asked as your body leaned away, getting a good look at him. 

Through tight lips, he held back a smile before nodding a little and turning to the opening credits. “Yes, ma’am.” 

It didn’t take long for Joel’s arm to settle around your shoulders, bringing your body into his side. His thumb was stroking the hoodie you wore, his hoodie. 

In his close proximity once again, your senses pick up on his now all too familiar scent; Woody, minty, a little bit of citrus from his body wash. He smelled good, you wonder if he wore cologne tonight or if this was his natural musk. You wouldn’t put it past Joel to naturally smell this good. He was good at a lot of things without even trying. 

A few slices of pizza and two glasses of wine later, you started to feel the weight of Joel’s unbearably heavy arm. You released yourself from him and opted to turn and rest your side against the back of the couch cushions, putting your legs in his lap. 

You hadn’t been watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Couldn’t stop trying to subtly look at how handsome Joel looked in the flicker of the television’s light from your peripheral. You couldn’t help it. He looked so big and hot, like a lumberjack, his stupid build alone making you fold. 

You bite at the inside of your cheek as Joel’s large and warm palm gently make slow strokes up and down your calf. Your body was trying not to twitch. Your heart was thrumming in your throat. You glanced up at him again, his eyes lasered in on the television. 

“Why’d he…” Joel’s voice trailed off, bringing your attention back to the screen. 

Your eyelashes fluttered, your brain trying to get you out of Joel Fantasy World and back into the film. “Hm? What?” 

“Why’d his hand cramp like that? Why’d they film that part?” Without intention, Joel’s curiosity was evident in his question. It immediately made you smile as you watched the television again, your body slumping into his side. 

“It’s not a hand cramp, he’s flexing it. It’s the film’s interpretation of his like… emotional turmoil and struggle. His feelings are evolving for Elizabeth, though he’s trying to appear all aloof and distant towards her. But their physical connection, he can’t really hide it, y’know? He can’t hide how he feels. So he flexes his hand because he’s affected by her presence and her touch. He can’t help it.” 

Joel’s hanging onto every word you say. You’re not so sure if he’s interested in the film as much as he is in hearing you talk about it. The hand that was messing around on your calf was now trailing higher up your thigh. And flexing the higher it climbed.

Your eyes looked from his amber ones to his lips, your heart racing faster in your chest. With one hand still clutching your wine glass, you managed to swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. You folded first. You couldn’t take Joel’s achingly slow touches. 

His enjoyment was obvious in his movements, his calloused hands slowly pushing up your thighs until they landed on the security of your waist. He was gripping the hoodie in his fists, observing your silhouette. 

“This mine, too.” It wasn’t a question, he was pointing it out to you. Joel giving you his own clothes to wear was by no mistake. It was a way of marking what was his, even if it was just in his mind. 

“Mine now.” Your words were whispered, leaning down and kissing at the hook of his jawline. 

“Like you in it. Wear it a hell’uva lot better than I do.” The shift in his voice was clear, huskier, and a little touch drunk. The film’s volume seemed softer now, playing as white noise and falling abandoned. 

His words made your stomach flip, your teeth purposely grazing against his skin. The motion made his hands trail down lower to the globes of your ass, humbly squeezing the flesh with the spans of his palms. A weak moan left your lips against his ear as he planted kisses on the inner side of your neck and on your shoulder. He was so fuckin’ greedy for you. 

“Joel,” you whispered between kisses along his jawline, lips coming up to his chin as one of your hands gently cupped the side of his neck while the other clutched your wine glass for dear life. 

As soon as your lips came close to his, you faltered. And Joel could tell. 

Suddenly both of your eyes were open, soft, and holding contact. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The only thing that actually came from you was a little sigh of disappointment, your eyes shyly flitting away. 

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him. 

You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder. 

“You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

This was Joel’s second or so attempt to kiss you. The first time was on the tailgate of his truck, you didn’t even think about letting him kiss you in his woodshed. 

You weren’t trying to remain mysterious or aloof, something he managed to do so naturally. You shifted in his lap uncomfortably, your eyes drifting to the window behind his head and watching the water shift in the black of night. 

“It’s not that deep, Joel. Just don’t want anyone to get attached.” You shrug and shake your head. “I don’t know, who cares?” 

“I care.” Even blasted on movie pizza and beers, he was as quick as a whip. His care wasn’t soft, it was strong. He cared like a fiercely loyal shield. 

You exhaled a deep sigh, your chest reflecting your breath as he slowly brought you back to him.

“I’m scared that I’ll like it.” The movie’s distant volume was comforting white noise to your nerve-wracked conversation with Joel. This was perhaps the most you’ve talked with him in one sitting. And about something so deeply personal, too. 

He took in what you said, slowly beginning to shake his head as his hand cupped more seriously against your jawline. 

“”t’s just a kiss.” His tone was seductive, sincere. Whispering like no one else in the world could hear. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t feel pressured, Joel was looking at you like he genuinely cared about what you had to say. About the movie, about the kissing. He bought you wine, he got pizzas, and he’s suffering through a period drama to sit beside you on his couch. Damn you, Joel Miller. 

You felt your body relax into his again, no longer cold and rigid. Your bodies meshed as you fell into the front of his chest, your hand on his neck moving up to cup his jaw. You tilted up his face and received no resistance. Just kiss him. 

You met his lips, soft and sweet, delicate and gentle. Your hand slipped from his jaw and landed absentmindedly on his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat against your palm. 

You didn’t pull away. It was impossible. 

He tasted like mint and whiskey, with hints of residual smoke from a cigarette earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know he smoked unless you were tasting him like you were right now. 

Joel was encouraging something out of you, deep and primal, as you let the kiss deepen. He took the lead with a heady mix of softness and urgency. 

He set a scorching fire between your legs, purely drunk on his lips alone. It sent a shiver down your spine how intense this stone-like man could be. Your mouths moved with desire and rhythm, feeling an electric spark that sent your senses ablaze. 

Goosebumps had sprinkled across the skin of your arms, your once soft hand on his jaw now clutching him there and tugging lightly at his curly tendrils. You weren’t letting him go. 

Your sounds filled the room, hot and wet kisses punching the air from both of your lungs. 

A breath was shared, your forehead on his as both of your chests rose and fell together.

His eyes caught yours. More?

You gently nod. Please. 

He was back with you in a hot heat, both of you wanting, no, needing more of one another. 

He balanced a tantalizing fusion of passion and longing, a magnetic pull that had you grinding your hips down into his lap. 

The world around you faded into a blur as you felt his tongue glide across your lower lip, asking permission. Your lips easily parted, tongues dancing and melting, your hands shaking a bit in excitement. 

Joel was consuming you. His tongue marking his territory as he explored your mouth before kissing you heatedly once more. You realized that the kiss wasn’t an exploration of feelings at all, Joel wanted to languish in your taste, stake out the claim of your mouth. Taste and territory. 

 A low grunt left the depths of his throat as your hips ground over him with desperation now. You could feel his dick swelling against your ass. 

Your lips quirked up in a smirk against his, you liked that you could feel his facial expressions, and he, yours. 

Without thinking, you went to cup his face in both hands, your wine glass dropping onto Joel’s chest, and what little wine you had left was splashing his denim button-up red. He didn’t even notice. 

“Joel--, wait,” you were breathless as you pulled away, his lips moving to the open expanse of your neck instead, his arms tight around your lower back. He could care less about his shirt, or the wine, or the spare glass rolling around between your stomachs. 

You laughed breathlessly, closing your eyes as you kept your chests apart, careful not to get wine on his favorite sweatshirt next. Your head fell back, your hair fanning out as you grinned at the ceiling. 

“Joel, your shirt is stained.” You tried to point out, both of your hands clamped onto his shoulders weakly to keep him at a distance. But his lust-filled lips had a taste of you that he couldn’t replace. His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck, wincing lightly as you let out a broken little whimper. 

“Don’t care.”

Oh my god. Fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate for more, but you weren’t going to let him stain one of maybe three decent shirts he owned. And with wine, you had to be fast acting. 

“Come on,” you said weakly, not even convinced yourself to break away.  “Joel, your shirt-”

“Don’t. Care.” He growled through gritted teeth, eyes hungry as you felt him lick a hot, slow stripe up your neck to your jaw. Fuck, he felt so good. 

Despite his clear lack of empathy for his shirt, you felt bad because it was your spill, your accident to try and make up to him. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. He didn’t stop until you planted both palms against his pecs and pushed him back with little force, watching as he fell into the cushions with a lazy smirk on his face as he looked over you. Joel was drunk off your kiss. 

You found your footing on the hardwood floors, grabbing his hands and attempting to pull him up and off the couch. He playfully resisted, just kept sitting there as you weakly tried again. 

“Stop bein’ such a dick.” You huffed. His laugh filled the room, nearly startling you. It was always quite the opportunity to hear him laugh so big like that. 

“Couldn’t pull me up no matter how hard ya try.” 

“Shut up. Stand up.” You ordered with little follow-through from Joel.

He yanked his hands from yours and planted his palms onto the tops of his thighs, pushing himself off the couch and following you aimlessly to his master bathroom. 

“Do you have some hydrogen peroxide? Dishwasher detergent?”

He stayed silent but looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes and started looking through different cabinets. 

“Baking soda?” Cocking your head to him, he nods and disappears before returning to you with the little orange Arm & Hammer cardboard box. 

You cleared your throat and looked at him expectantly. 

“Joel, I can’t clean the shirt with you wearing it. Take it off.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see his lips upturned in a cocky smirk. Sometimes you just wanted to smack it clean off his face. 

Fine. With a sense of ferocity, you began to take him down button by button. He lets you. He even steps closer to your body, and you try not to get distracted by him. 

“I don’t wanna be the one that messes up your nice shirts.” You murmur. 

“t’s fine.” He cups your cheek again and tries to divert your attention once more. He’s not even actively trying to kiss you, he just wants to get a rise out of you now. You’re trying not to smile at him in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. Your elbow jabs into his bare abdomen after you’ve peeled the wet material from his torso. 

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?” 

Forcing yourself to turn away from him wasn’t enough. Now he’s behind you planting kisses down the side of your neck with his hands on your waist and toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You had to admit being on his lap like that got you hot and bothered to the tenth degree. Now you were nursing a stained shirt and the ache in your core. 

“‘lright, fine.” Oh, thank god. You could breathe again. You were this close to caving, and caving to Joel was a losing game. 

He found a towel and wiped at his chest and torso while you blotted away with a paper towel the excess wine in his shirt. After getting out what you could, you sprinkled the baking soda over the little splashes of red and added a few drops of water to make somewhat of a paste. Now you just had to wait for it to dry and toss it in the laundry. 

You hoped you didn’t ruin the denim shirt, you quite liked how he looked in it. The blue denim complimented the soft silver in his curls, and the cuffs rolled up accentuated his biceps.

Speaking of biceps. Your eyes innocently watched him move around the bathroom shirtless. He was somewhat toned, a handsome mix of dad bod and muscle. Like a sexy lumberjack. He was big and broad, wide in the shoulders and smaller in the waist. With all the summer log chopping, his biceps were toned.  

A shaky breath left your mouth, his eyes catching yours in the mirror before you quickly looked away, washing your hands of the baking soda paste you had made. 

“It’s uh… It’s good now. Just let it dry and put it in the washer. Alone. Without anything else in there.” You quickly nodded, over-clarifying again. You braved looking at him again in the mirror. Mistake. A smug little smile that beat up your guts was laced on his lips. 

Your hand was quick to reach for the door handle, but his hand was already on your other wrist and pulling you into his front. 

“Get back here,” Your name drips off his lips, and it’s drenched in lust. 

Fuck it. 

Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, feeling his raised trap muscles under your forearms as your lips reunite with Joel’s. 

Getting that first kiss between you two out of the way was a blessing in disguise because now you knew him. You were acquainted with his lips. You liked his taste, you liked how soft he was, you liked the stubble of his beard, and you liked the way his warm palms were on you as soon as you entered his space. He embraced every inch of you, his kisses were feverish, and they left your mind in a tailspin. No one had ever kissed you like this before. 

You ducked your head down before he could stop you, kissing over his wine-spoiled chest. You kissed lower and lower before licking a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting residual cherry and sweetness from the wine. 

Your lips parted as you looked in the mirror, realizing now that he had pinned both your wrists behind your back and planted them at your tailbone. 

Your doe eyes innocently looked up at him, his face masked in desire and an appetite for you. 

“Get on your knees.” 

A breath hitched in your throat, your eyes trying to focus as you looked over Joel’s face. Your eyes fluttered down to his biceps, strong and defined with veins lining like rivers coursing along the curves as they held your wrists back. You didn’t hesitate to drop down to your knees. 

He had let go of your wrists, so you brought your hands up to undo the button of his jeans, but he tsk-ed you. 

“But I-”

“But nothing. Put your hands behind your back again.” You pouted but obeyed. You wanted to touch him. 

Your lips parted as you watched Joel pop open the button of his jeans, his thumbs lining the hem of his jeans and boxers at his hips before pushing them down to his thick thighs. His cock was already half-hard from when you were grinding on him back on the couch. 

Your breaths grew heavier, you couldn’t manage to stay in his hoodie. You peeled the heavy navy sweatshirt off, leaving you in nothing underneath, which earned sweet praise from Joel as soon as you laced your hands once more behind your back.

“So fuckin’ pretty.. Look at you.” He lightly leaned over and cupped one of your tits, massaging it in the heart of his palm and rolling your taut nipple around with his thumb. A quiet whine was elicited from your throat, face crumbling as your hands fought hard not to release themselves behind your back. 

You wanted to touch him, cup his face, hold his thighs, wrap your hand around his dick that was flush against his stomach. 

A harsher tug to your nipple left you moaning, watching as he leaned down and let a long, long dribble of spit connect from his lips down onto your chest. Your head fell back at the cool sensation, feeling it aid the heat of your breasts. 

He stood up tall again, broad and towering, as you glanced over to the mirror. The dynamic was almost charming. You on your knees for Joel, his blushing cock swelling against his happy trail. He was so handsome, so greedy. 

Without thinking, you released your hands from around your back and moved to steady yourself on his thighs. 

“Not gonna tell you again, pretty girl.” You paused and looked to Joel. “No usin’ your hands tonight. Just that dirty mouth a’yours.” His accent was drenched with lust, dripping like syrup. 

You whined as you assumed your position with your hands away, not knowing what to expect if you tried to use them again. 

You attempted to crawl closer to him, your knees practically between his slightly parted legs. 

You kissed up his inner thigh, grinning lightly at the slight taste of his sweat. Your tongue kitten licked at his balls, hearing him seethe in a breath through gritted teeth. Sensitive, a little wrinkled, lightly groomed just for you. It made you smirk that he cared enough to trim. 

You tested the waters, letting your warm mouth coat him in saliva, going from one ball to the other until they were both practically dripping. His cock was twitching for your attention, but Joel was above begging and groveling. For now. 

With devilish eyes, you looked up to him as you suckled one of his balls. He didn’t stop you, just cursed a little under his breath as his chest moved faster. You picked up the suckling from him when he nursed your sensitive, throbbing clit between his teeth and tongue. Now, it was your turn to repay the favor. 

Your lips released him with a pop, and you watched as Joel let out a breath he was holding in. His hand loosely fisted your hair in a loose ponytail atop your head, a little moan leaving your mouth as your scalp tingled with his tug. 

Your eyes closed as you worked over the other ball, suckling and licking and doing it all just to watch his cock grow angrier and more jealous of the attention. Your own spit was falling down your lips and chin, coating your breasts in a glistening sheen. 

Working without your hands, you used your core to balance yourself against Joel. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the floor. He liked watching you work to suck him off. 

You had to look to Joel for assistance, his shaft so hardened now against his stomach that you couldn’t reach. You sat up as straight as you could, Joel smirking down at you and watching you struggle for a few brief moments. “Come ‘ere, pretty girl.” He used the free hand not tangled in your locks to guide his tip down to your open mouth, your lips wrapping loosely around the head.

You made the mistake of releasing him out of habit, whimpering as your knees scrambled on cold tile to get him back to the warmth of your mouth. He opted to help you again, guiding his tip onto your red, wine-stained tongue. 

This time, you learned not to release him. Your tongue salivated his tip, swollen and sensitive. You could tell by how tight Joel clutched your hair and nearly pulled you off. 

You smirked lazily around him as you took him deeper, your watery eyes on his as you interlocked your fingers by your tailbone. 

You were slow at first, little nods back and forth, up and down his shaft. You blinked through any residual tears, slicking him up with your spit and proceeding farther down his shaft. You clenched your eyes closed and choked lightly as you took him to his base, a low groan of praise leaving Joel as his thumb stroked up your cheekbone. 

“Fuck me, so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’.” His words were broken by his rasp, but the praise sent you into overdrive. 

You bobbed your head at a good pace, Joel guiding you by your hair up and down his shaft, slicked by excess saliva that was dripping onto your tits and your stomach. You had to take a breath, but you learned from earlier. Your head came to rest against his thigh, head foggy as his tip sat plump against your cheek. You looked at the two of you in the mirror, and it was quite a sight. 

Joel’s body was planted by his heels, his toned torso and biceps protruding with hints of sweat. You had black-smudged tears on your waterline, and your face was filled with warmth. Your hair was a mess, Joel gently stroking it back from your sweat-glistened forehead as you breathed through your nose. You liked watching you work in the mirror. Watching him get ruined in the mirror. Watching yourself get ruined in the mirror. 

You started your rhythm again, this time your eyes locked loosely on the mirror in your peripheral. Joel’s cock made you choke each time you took him deep, but you didn’t let it stop you. He was so close, you had the heady taste of his precum on your tongue. He liked it messy. 

“Fuck- can’t,” Joel let out a rugged moan, it felt like it vibrated the tiles under your aching knees. Your wrists were throbbing from keeping your arms back, hands clenched together tight as you followed his rules. “Can’t hold on when you take me so-- so goddamn good.”

You whimper-whined against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you moved with intent up and down his shaft. You opted just to take what you easily could now, focused on keeping the pace and working towards his orgasm. You thought about Joel fucking your mouth, but he wanted you to feel some sense of control since you had your hands back. Maybe you wanted to lose all control. If it was Joel you were losing it with. 

Joel was close, he couldn’t hold back how messy he had gotten. He had a steel-tight grip on your hair, and his breaths were laced with broken moans and grunts of your name. He kept wiping away any tears that slipped past your eyes and onto your cheeks, despite being devastatingly close to an orgasm you knew he was drunk on. 

“Yeah, fuck me,” He murmured under his breath, his cock twitching deep in your throat now. “Take me so well... The fuckin’ best, babygirl.” The best. 

You watched through blurry, head-dizzy vision as Joel’s ab muscles contorted. “Gonna cum, baby, stay with me.” He panted, eyes locking on yours as you nodded on his shaft and continued your sweet rhythm. 

You whimpered as his tip pulsed against your tongue, going down on him as deep as you could and clenching your eyes closed, waiting for Joel’s impending climax. And he kept you there as he painted your throat white. 

His cum came out in hot ropes, moaning lowly against his shaft as you focused on tasting him and breathing through your nose. He was salty, little beads landing in the back of your throat as you swallowed around him. 

Joel’s moans were glorious, breathy, and aching to say your name. His eyes had fallen closed, his stance still tall and broad. You wanted to touch him, kiss him. You decided to lay your head against his thigh, still breathing around his dick as you watched yourself in satisfaction through his mirror. 

“Fuck,” he murmured low, pulling you off of him with a pop. Your jaw lightly throbbed, but god, you felt like you were in the clouds. 

“Hands?” Your raw voice whimpered. He gave a silent nod of approval, and with his permission, you released your interlocked hands and lightly toppled back on your ass, leaning against the door to his linen closet. 

Joel observed you for a few moments, making sure you were okay before he grabbed a spare washcloth and ran some lukewarm water over it. Your eyes peeked open when you heard his zipper go up on his jeans, seeing he had straightened out his bottom half. 

You tried to focus your vision, seeing him squat down beside you and lightly press the cold washcloth to your temple, cheeks, and up your neck. It helped, you were settled, safe, and with Joel.

“Holy fuck.” You finally said once you had come down from your high. Your eyes met Joel’s, seeing both of your mouths were quirked up in lopsided smiles. 

“Too much?” He asked, the washcloth now delicately cleaning up the saliva on your breasts. 

You slowly shook your head. No, never too much. Just new. 

You looked around, feeling an ache in your knees and in your wrists. You rolled your wrists in circles to relieve some pressure on the joints before you pushed your palms up and down your kneecaps gently.

“Hey,” Joel’s words caught your attention, turning to him as he lightly cupped your cheek. “You were fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” A weak mewl left you, a tired smile on your lips. 

“You said the best.” 

“Was perfect. Was the best. Did a perfect job.” His praise punched excitement through your veins, regaining your strength to stand back up with Joel’s honorable assistance. You murmur a thanks before you make a grab for Joel’s hoodie. As if he was going to steal it back from you. 

Joel excused himself to go clean up the kitchen, leaving an attentive kiss on your cheek before he left you alone. 

You took a few minutes to rinse some water around in your mouth and try to brush your fingers through your knotted, matted hair. 

“Need to get yourself a brush, Mr. Miller.” You murmur as you pass him in the kitchen, seeing he pulled on a new t-shirt and that he had put some of the leftover pizza in spare Tupperware containers. 

“Can’t eat it all by myself, and Sarah won’t be home for a few more days.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He could so totally finish that pizza if he wanted to. He could do it tonight as soon as you leave. 

Reading your mind, he shoved the container into your hands. “Just-- fuckin’ take it, why you gotta make things so damn difficult.” 

You smirked and patted the container softly. “My specialty. Irritating old grouchy men.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you, picking up the wine bottle next and figuring out what to do with it. Your eyes softened, watching the gears turn in his head for how he was going to handle this situation. 

“Do you care if I take the rest of it home, actually? I know it’s yours, and it’s been yours for a while, but it was really good.” Lame excuse. Joel leaned into it though, nonetheless. You were at Joel’s side now, looking to him with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He teetered on his feet for a moment before he nodded and handed it over. 

“Yeah, you’re doin’ me a favor so it doesn’t just keep sittin’ in the fridge.” 

You nodded softly and tried to jam the cork back in as well as you could, Joel swiftly taking the bottle from you and popping it back into its home with ease due to his sheer strength. 

You turned to the television and huffed, seeing the credits of Pride & Prejudice roll. Dammit.  

Joel joined you at your side, crossing his arms and giving the television a once over. “So did they, y’know, end up together?” There was Joel’s pure curiosity again. This time, he didn’t hide it so well. 

“Guess you’ll have to watch to find out. Don’t forget to throw that shirt in the washer.” You said with a cocky grin, holding up the wine bottle and pizza leftovers in gratitude before walking to the door. Joel followed you out, and you looked at him curiously. 

“Gotta make sure you get home safe.” 

Your head rolled to the side, watching as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What?”

“Joel, I’m staying right next door. You could see me go inside from your living room window.” 

He just shook his head and looked beyond you to the water. 

“t’s dark.” 

Your chest fluttered with warmth, a smile on your lips growing past one you could deny. Let him have this one. 

“Thanks, Joel. Thanks for the pizza and the wine and… stuff.” Now it was his turn to let you have this one. The stuff. The kiss. The multiple kisses. He didn’t make it a big deal, just rolled with the punches. You appreciated it. 

You wanted to know what was next for the two of you. The feeling of your cores grazing one another set a fire in you that only Joel could put out. 

You pondered whether or not to kiss him goodnight and find a lame excuse to try and thank him again for the wine bottle when you saw two pairs of headlights coming down the road. 

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, looking to Joel with a pained expression. He looked disappointed. 

You didn’t say goodnight, you didn’t kiss him before you left, you just… left. You moved down Joel’s rickety wooden porch steps with haste, sneaking into the lakehouse through the garage door as your heart thrummed at a face pace. You felt like a child getting caught by your parents. 

You didn’t know what to do with Joel’s pizza container and the wine. You could figure out an excuse for the pizza later, so you shoved it into the fridge, but definitely not the half-drank bottle of red wine. You double-checked that the cork was in there tight, and of course it was because Joel pushed it back in, but you couldn’t help but check because it was going to be stowed under your bed for safekeeping. 

You changed out of Joel’s hoodie and into an oversized band tee, walking out of your bedroom with a book when your parents returned through the door. 

“Hey, kiddo. You’re still up? ‘t’s past eleven.” 

You try not to roll your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip as you tightly nodded. “Yeah, I know. I stay up late a lot at school and stuff, working on papers or out with friends. Staying up past eleven isn’t that weird for me.” 

You didn’t mean for there to be so much venom in your comment, but you weren’t a baby. Nearly every day at the lakehouse so far this summer has elicited a few don’t call me kid, I’m an adult, I make adult decisions, comments from you. 

Your parents looked too tired to care, which somehow stung worse. 

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Your dad and I are headin’ to bed.” 

Now you felt bad. You pursed your lips and nodded, putting your hands behind your back and resting them on your tailbone absentmindedly. This was the same pose Joel had you in tonight. You already wanted to go back there. 

“Sorry, goodnight.” You whisper, seeing your dad give you a tired smile before patting your shoulder. 

“Hey kiddo-” He paused at the nickname and took a breath. “Sorry.” You playfully smiled and shook your head. Go on.

“Do me a favor, grab the steaks out from the freezer and put them on a plate in the fridge. Wanna have Joel and Sarah over for dinner tomorrow night. Feel like I haven’t seen them all summer.” 

Your face went ghastly blank, feeling yourself fall hollow like a collapsing building. If it weren’t for how tired your dad was, he would have seen right through you like a ghost. “You- Oh, you want to have them come by for dinner? I don’t think tomorrow’s gonna work. Sarah’s camping and-”

“Oh, well, Joel can still swing by for dinner. Need to eat up those steaks. Every time I open the freezer, they stare at me. They’re beggin’ me to eat them, it ain’t fair.” 

You forced out a laugh, but of course, your father couldn’t tell. Just thought he made one hell of a zinger. 

“So-So Joel over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And don’t forget to take out the steaks. Love you.” He turned the corner down the hall, and then he was gone. 

You sighed and lightly chewed at the skin around your thumbnail. Great. One big happy family dinner. And Joel. 

---

here's my masterlist!

here's how to join my taglist!

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @lunarxeclipse @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @keeponlivinmanl-i-v-i-n @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @airalihmarylu @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @suzmagine @pastawench @crazedquilter-blog @kaitangatatacos @amanitacowboy @loveisacowboyyy @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbieratogabx-blog @chicville03

(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. ugh a problem for another day, okay ily ttyl I'm gonna go watch twilight)

[natailiatulls07]

excitedly waiting for part 2 of party girl already

Party Girl Pt.2

Arthur Leclerc x Norris!reader Lando Norris & Norris!reader

Summary - Arthur and Y/n, Landos younger sister are getting cozy behind Lando's and Charles’ backs

Warning -

A/n - Thank you for the request, I really appreciate it 🤍

Reader is still 18 years old

Part 1

-

f1gridgossip

Spotted: The formula one drivers should have kept a better eye on their siblings because Y/n Norris and Arthur Leclerc (who also is a formula two driver) are looking cozy at a party in Monaco. How will Charles and Lando feel about the growing chemistry??

Liked username and 5,975 others

username Ngl they’re cute 🤭

username Wait until Lando finds out, he will not be happy oop

username If they ask me to have threesome with them, I would not hesitate 🤤

landonorris right.

= username Watch out we’ll see Arthur running in a sec 😳

username Atleast she’s not one of those fake fame and money grabbing girl

leclercloves

Real footage of Lando when he found out about his sister and Arthur Leclerc 🔪🔪

Liked by username and 3,686 others

username Yeah did you see his comment on the gossip post?! Landy was not happy 😃

username I think I can see Arthur running across Monaco right now!!

username Well we know that he's a good guy so hopefully Lando will let this happen 🤞🏻

yourusername

When you're brother goes from hating your boyfriend to becoming bestfriends with him ☺️

Liked by charles_leclerc and 21,478 others

username I love this so much, they're the cutest 😭

landonorris If anything happens, I will stand by what I said

= username What did Lando say?!

= username No don't leave us guessing please!

= yourusername In summary, my dear brother said 'don't you dare ever break my sisters heart, I know where you live' lol 😂

= username Protective Lando is something we need LMAO

charles_leclerc Photo credits?? 📸

= yourusername Of course, thank you Charles 🙏🏻

= charles_leclerc Anytime little Norris

arthur_leclerc I love you ❤️

= yourusername I love you too 🤍

landonorris

Okay, maybe I'll allow you to date my sister but I have my eye on you 👀

Liked by yourusername and 47,857 others

username Y/n Norris, luckiest girl alive!

username The Ferrari and McLaren girl, here she is 🤩

yourusername Thank you Lano

= username 'Lano' thats the cutest thing ever!! 🤭

arthur_leclerc I won't let you down

= landonorris I'll hold you to that

arthur_leclerc

My party girl 😍

Liked yourusername and 23,576 others

username 'My party girl' Screaming, crying, throwing up!!

yourusername Aww Thur I love you so much 🤍

= arthur_leclerc Yeah not as much as I do

= landonorris Please save this for your own privacy!! 🙈

username Alexa play jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo 😭

landonorris posted a story

[oh-no-its-bird]

hi listen i just had a divine intervention or smth lmk if you don't like it but

what if your team Ro time travel au + my time travel Tobirama

Team Ro would have memories of the canon and they got to this different timeline and there's Tobirama actively trying to seduce Uchiha fucking Madara. They didn't teach THAT in the Academy

They got in the time when Tobirama still orchestrated meetings, but Butsuma is already dead so if everything goes well, Tobirama would get Madara and peace soon.

And then there suddenly spawn a Hatake with a sharingan with 2 Uchiha kids and a Mokuton user. Political nightmare.

Later Tobirama recognises Kakashi and was like "The fuck? It's that Hatake from the war. What is he doing there, he should not have been born yet!!"

OHHH THATS SO GOOD THO???

I'm gonna be real I love the concept of "team ro time travel au but they time travel into someone else's time travel au," that's so good

If we go with your au, there's a really interesting immediate aspect of like: hey ! Tobirama might recognize Kakashi or maybe even Tenzo from the war, but these guys are way fucking younger than when they met !!!

Idk what exactly can be done with that but it's interesting to consider. Also Tobirama talked ab Itachi and his crimes before I'm p sure? So like he knows what happens to the Uchiha and that it was Itachi who did it for the village. I wanna see him faced w the kid who he once praised for slaughtering his own clan to prove his loyalty.

I wanna see him feel the consequences of the stress Itachi is under when he (and possibly Shisui) attempt to kill Madara.

Stop interfering with his fix it fic you brats!! He's already got it covered!! You're just causing a mess!!!!

They get zapped in, like, in the middle of Tobirama's happy ending epilogue too. Tobirama is peacefully eating dinner in his house w his new husband Madara thinking "well. Alls well that ends well." Then BOOM Kakashi Shisui Itachi and Tenzo crash out of fucking nowhere directly onto their table, getting covered in food and breaking the table in half

Immediatley arrested !! I feel like Tobirama would instantly understand what happened by recognizing their uniforms + potentially Kakashi + he's already a time traveler himself so it's really no stretch for him to go "oh fuck I didn't think we'd get a double jepordy in this bitch but I guess not"

But like it's not like he can just SAY that ? Or he could but it would bring a lot of questions he probably does not want to answer.

Now another problem arises in like. I don't think Tobirama is especially attached to any of these guys. I can see him maybe having a lingering "pay it forward ig" feeling just bc they're "loyal konoha soldiers" and it'd be a waste to let that resource just burn. But also like. Under no circumstances can Tobirama have these guys share certain aspects of future knowledge.

Tobirama worked so hard to get here !!!! Literal years of planning !!!! He got his happy ending and it very much rests on Madara staying safe and sane and NO ONE IMPLYING HE WILL BETRAY KONOHA EVER !!!!! Tobirama does not even wanna RISK that becoming a rumor, he will take no chances.

Anyways I think his best course of action would be to reveal himself as a time traveler specifically to team ro, then position himself as their hokage who they should remain loyal to, say that it is for Konoha's best interests that they do not reveal certain things, and play it by ear from there.

Tobirama deciding he can't risk team ro going forward in time again and potentially fucking up the time stream or smthn. They need to stay here. He can not risk losing this shit. Sorry guys it looks like your trapped here <3

Anyways team ro being scary loyal to him bc he is the closest approximation to their (current?) Hokage and only person w the knowledge to enforce that power over them (at this time)

In my original post, like, all of team ro are already established to be kind of at their worst and most loyal to the village at that point to. They are at THE age(s) to be manipulated like that tbh, rip

It's not too bad tho. I think Itachi would feel relieved but also very guilty. Shisui too. Tenzo is violently neutral bc hes still in his "learning to be a real boy" phase from root, but it's all positive for him tbh. Kakashi is tricky bc his mental state is the equivalent of someone rapidly bouncing a ball on a thin pane of glass trying to prove it's bullet proof (it's not) and has like MOUNTAINS of complexes around the words "konoha authority figure" and what he's leaving behind. He's probably the most determined to go back

Anyways uhh. Izuna gets Itachi to help him be skeptical of Tobirama and spy on him. Itachi only agrees bc he violently reminds him of Sasuke (this will develop into a complex if not stopped. Shisui is working on it.)

[sports-on-sundays]

Oh...! Maybe you can make a part 2 of the fic Mama's Boy when they're on date or make a new one with the same trope because this is so cute and I can't stop reading it! 😆

mama's boy / Héctor Fort / Part 2

Summary: Héctor x best friend!reader - Héctor takes you on both of your first dates, his clear, awkward, huge crush on you funnily apparent. Link to Part 1!

Requested?: Yes! Thank you!

"...Héctor...?!" Lamine suddenly says louder, gently slapping Héctor's shoulder, snapping Héctor out of his deep thoughts. "Did you just hear any of what I just said?" the seventeen-year-old asks in slight exasperation.

"Uh... yeah, of course," Héctor replies, looking at the younger guy like a deer in headlights.

"Then what was it?"

Héctor sighs. "Alright. Maybe I didn't hear you. Sorry. What was it?"

Lamine shakes his head. "It doesn't really matter. Not really, in any case. But what's your problem lately, man?"

"What do you mean?" Héctor asks a bit too defensively and quickly.

"I don't know. It just seems like you're always zoned out and stuff. Is there anything going on?"

Héctor sighs, shaking his head, standing up to go. "No, no, it's nothing. Just got a lot on my mind. Anyway, I've got to go now. Bye, Lamine!" and he leaves before the boy can press him any more on the subject.

Because the truth is, he does have something on his mind. Something really big. And he hasn't been able to get it off his mind literally all week.

But it'd be awkward to tell Lamine the thing that's making him literally check out of conversations is all centered around a girl. And if Héctor knows Lamine enough, he also knows Lamine would never let him live that down.

Well, tonight is his date with you. Ever since he asked you out about five days ago now, at your house, in your room, all he can focus on are the nerves of that. You, the girl he's known for years, the girl that's always been so close yet so untouchable. He is taking you out on a date.

And you actually like him back.

Just the thought of that makes his chest tighten. How on earth is he going to survive a date with you, no matter how excited he is for it?

"You've been awfully quiet this car ride," Héctor's mama says in the car seat next to him.

Héctor sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess so..."

"Aren't you excited for your date?" his mama says kind of teasingly, giving him a little nudge.

"Of course! I guess I'm just..." he trails off.

"You're just a bit nervous, but that's something you'd never admit to anyone out loud, huh?"

Héctor just smiles awkwardly, shrugging, and lets his silence be the answer to that question. After a few seconds, he sighs, unbuckling his seat belt, and saying, "I just hope I don't screw it all up."

"Hey, trust me, Héc. Look here for a second," his mama says.

He looks up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah. What?"

"You won't screw it up. I'm sure it'll go great. You've known that girl since you were both born. And I have, too, by the way. And if there's one thing I can tell, it's this: she likes you just as much as you like her. She's just less of an awkward idiot about it!" His mama laughs, giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

"Hey!" Héctor snaps back, unable to keep the smile from breaking out on his face at the tease from his mama.

She gives him a little pat, saying, "There's my boy's real smile. Now, go on, and have fun, Héc!"

He smiles and nods, getting out of the car, feeling a lot better than before.

Héctor replayed this scene in his head over and over, all week, perfecting it every time, until he was sure what he would do and say, in order to be perfectly smooth and charming, without being too corny, either.

The scene where you would walk up to him, and he'd take you inside the restaurant, and you'd sit down, and it would all go just the way he wants it to.

But all the sudden, as he sees you walking towards him, he feels his heart begin to pound in his chest, and the moment you reach him and say happily, "Hey, Héctor!" all other thoughts and plans of what he would say next fly right out of his head.

His mind goes blank, and instead of the smooth comment he thought he'd make right here, he just smiles stupidly and says, "Hi. I'm glad you came!"

You smile softly. "Well, I am, too. Let's go inside."

So the two of you walk in, and Héctor internally beats himself up at how much he's 'already messed up.' At least according to himself, that is.

So in an effort to fix his mistakes, as the two of you are escorted to your table, he suddenly gently slips his hand into yours and looks at you with a sweet little smile.

You smile back, blushing a bit, and squeeze his hand gently.

That's when he blurts, "You look really good today. I mean, like... I mean, you look beautiful... Uhm..." he clears his throat. "You look good every day, obviously, I mean. I just mean to say... you look especially pretty today."

You smile, feeling how awkward he's being. But regardless, you think it's cute. He's cute. And he's being sweet. So you say simply, "Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself." You can tell he's tried to look his best for this. His clothes are perfectly ironed, his shoes clean, every hair on his head perfectly in place. You can't help but smile softly when you think about the effort he must've put into all that as you both sit down across from each other.

You both begin looking over the menu, and as you do this, you say with a little smile, after you catch him giving you little glances for the fourth time, "You really like me, don't you?"

He smiles a bit and says, "There's a lot to like about you." Finally! Something that was at least half-smooth! his brain screamed, like as if he'd just scored the winning goal. Which is actually quite funny, considering the situation itself.

You smile and say, putting a hand to your chest, "Why, thank you!"

And he grins back at you, his eyes softening in some sort of deep affection that further tells you just how down bad he is for you.

"So, what are you going to get?" Héctor asks, beginning the small talk of the night, which, honestly, you're thankful for.

As the date goes on, though, you both settle into being more and more comfortable with each other, until it seems at the end you've both forgotten this was supposed to be any different than any other time you've just hung out and had fun with each other.

Until the time for you both to get going is nearing, and suddenly Héctor, apparently getting a newfound spark of confidence, reaches across the table to take your hand in his own. You look up, watching him inhale slowly, before meeting your eyes with his own and saying in a gentler, more serious tone than the teasing one that had lingered most of the evening between the two of you: "So... have you liked it?"

You smile as each of your hands seem to naturally entwine in each other's. "Liked what?"

"Tonight. Our date."

You beam. "Oh, Héctor, I've just loved it."

"Really?" he asks, his eyes sparkling.

"Don't you know that any time I get to spend with you is amazing? Come on now, Héctor," you gently tease.

He beams back at you, squeezing your hand.

That's when you finally feel comfortable enough to ask the unabating question that's been on your mind all week: "Héctor... how long have you liked me...? You know, in this way."

He seems hesitant. Maybe slightly taken off guard. But he doesn't let go of your hand, and after some silence, finally responds with, "The truth is, it's been longer than I've even known."

You can't help but laugh a bit at that, maybe a little nervously, saying, "What does that mean?"

Héctor smiles softly. "It means that I'm starting to think I've felt like this towards you for years. Like, at least five."

Your eyes widen at that as your heart rate begins to quicken. "Oh... my goodness, Héctor, that's so sweet...!" It really is. Hearing those words from him is so... touching.

He smiles awkwardly, glancing away from your gaze, before asking, "How long have you liked me? I mean, you do like me, right?"

"Héctor! Of course I like you! I like you a lot!" you exclaim, liking the way he happily looks back up at that. "I mean, I guess it hasn't been as long as you, but I've probably liked you for, like, at least eighteen months now."

He seems to be satisfied with hearing that, and says, "It kind of seems perfect, doesn't it?"

"What does?" you ask, your expression softening further.

"The way we've known each other... forever. Our families love each other, we have the same interests, we know all the little things about each other. It's almost as if..."

"...we're meant to be?" you finish after he trails off.

His eyebrows happily shoot up. "How'd you know that's just what I was going to say?"

You chuckle. "I guess we're just on the same wavelength, too, on top of it all, huh?"

He squeezes your hand, before daring to bring your hand up to his lips and gently kiss it, saying, "I guess we are, my princess."

You stare in awe at him, suddenly feeling like he's just shot you in the heart with an arrow of love, regardless of how cheesy that all seems. You can't help but giggle and tease, "Oh my God, Héctor. I didn't know you had that in you!"

He beams, admittedly seeming quite pleased with himself.

Soon, then, he pays for the meal, and the two of you stand up to head out. As you walk, Héctor links arms with yours, and once you're outside, he turns to grab your shoulders gently, face you, and look into your eyes. All you can see in them is simple, beautiful, complete joy. It's then that he whispers, "I hope you know... how much this means to me. All of this."

You stare at him. He so... close. It's not like you haven't been this close to him before- you have, many times.

But this time? This time, it just feels... well, different.

This time is different.

His thumb gently rubs your shoulder. The tenderness in his dark brown eyes...

You swallow.

"You're so beautiful... I'm so glad I get the privilege to be so close to you. I'm so glad you're my best friend."

"And I'm so glad you're my boyfriend," you suddenly blurt with a silly little smile, your heart pounding at the words you just let slip from your lips.

His eyes immediately widen. "You... You really want to...?"

You lean in close, gazing up at him, "I'd love to, and I know you would, too."

He grins, before it slowly dies down to a simple, soft, dreamy smile. "I sure would..." he barely murmurs, moving his hand up to gently cup your cheek.

You chuckle breathy as he lean in, tenderly planting a kiss on your cheek, before moving close to whisper in your ear, his cheek almost touching yours, his gentle, warm breath on your ear, "Well, I guess I've got to go now... But I'm excited for next time, huh?"

You grin, whispering back, "Oh, Héctor, I hope you know I can't wait."

He grins back and whispers, "Good. Me neither. Now, bye bye, Y/n!" He leans away again, pecking you on your cheek, closer to your mouth this time, and waves as he starts heading off.

You beam. "Bye bye, Héc!"

And this time, he doesn't seem to mind you calling him that. In fact, he might actually like it. Just a bit.