#this is the best thing I have been told for a while

[karmicmortal]

Wife!reader who's thinking of a divorce and obsessed sunghoon who makes sure she has no way out by babytrapping her

content warnings husband!sunghoon, toxic relationship, toxic!sunghoon, manipulation, coercion, unprotected sex, breeding, baby trapping, aged up (28)

don’t like it? don’t read it!

sunghoon was not taking the separation well. the two of you have been married for just under three years and it was already falling apart in front of him. you’d been arguing a lot lately, always on edge, and it began to take a toll on both of you. it just seemed like you couldn’t find a middle ground and it was frustrating. but he never wanted you to leave.

he watched helplessly as you packed some of your things, preparing to leave and stay elsewhere. god knows where. if it’s not with him, he doesn’t care and it’s not good enough. you told him that it would only be for a little while. just long enough to sort yourselves out. then you’d be back in his arms and your marriage would be back to normal.

it’s been a month and you still hadn’t come back. the house felt empty. the house the two of you decided to buy together in hopes of growing old together and raising a family in it. he often tried reaching out to you, calling and texting, desperate to win you back, but nothing seemed to be working. you always ignored his attempts to contact you.

yesterday he received a text from you. it was a simple, earth-shattering text.

you: i’ll be coming by tomorrow to collect more of my things.

collecting more of your things? sunghoon couldn’t allow that. if you’re getting more things, taking them away instead of coming back to him, that can only mean one thing.

he made sure he called off from work the next day. he wanted to be there when you showed up so he could convince you to stay with him. even if he had to get on his knees and beg you. when you married him, you made a vow to stay with him through thick and thin, for better or for worse, and he was going to make sure you upheld that. there’s no way he was going to let you leave him.

you were surprised to see sunghoon when you walked into the house. the last time you saw him in person was the day you left. that was after a big fight, so really, the last time you saw sunghoon was when he was angry. when sunghoon is angry, he can be harsh and vicious, which is why you decided that it would be best to leave. but much unlike those moments, now he looks different. regretful? resigned? just wordlessly looking at you as you cautiously stepped foot into the house.

neither of you say anything. you slip your shoes off, putting on your slippers that were right where you left them a month ago, and begin to make your way to your bedroom. sunghoon doesn’t follow you immediately, but he eventually makes his way into the room as well. he finds you having pulled out a suitcase from the back of your closet, laying it out on the floor, waiting for you to fill it with more of your clothes.

you try to ignore his stare. you can feel him watching your every move. he’s stood by the doorframe, watching closely, tracking your movement with his eyes, still not speaking. then he moves. he walks toward you and begins pulling your items out of your luggage. each neatly folded top, dress, every pair of pants and even your panties that you had placed in there was pulled out and thrown haphazardly to the side. some landing on the floor, on the nightstand on your side of the bed, on the bed itself — it didn’t matter.

“what are you doing, sunghoon?” it’s the first time he’s heard your voice in a month. and that almost makes him start crying.

he drops to his knees, crawling toward you and reaching out. his hands grip the backs of your thighs as he pulls you closer to him, resting his head on your stomach. “please,” he begs. “don’t do this. stop…don’t go.”

you sigh and try to take a step back. sunghoon sniffles.

“i love you,” he tries again.

a mix of a laugh and a scoff slips past your lips. “you love me?” he nods. “it sure didn’t feel like it that day. or all of the times before it that we fought. is that what you call love?”

he shakes his head, looking up at you from his position on his knees. “i’m sorry, please. i love you. i really do. i don’t want this — i can’t live without you.” you made eye contact with him but quickly looked away. he was looking at you with pleading eyes, the same eyes you fell in love with many years ago. if you looked at him, you’re sure that you would fold, which is the opposite of what you intended to do. “we’re supposed to be team and work through our problems together. we were going to start trying for a family. do you really want to start over now?”

that hits a nerve. you were initially very excited to have all of the talks with sunghoon about starting a family. planning everything, from when you were going to stop taking your birth control to whether you want a boy or a girl first and what you’d name them. then, you guess, the stress of planning began to take a toll on the both of you and you guys became more irritable. which led to more fights than ever before. most of which started on sunghoon’s side, so you’re not sure why he’s bringing that up now. he was the one that would lash out at you when you asked him for just a few minutes of his time. just a quickie in hopes that it would knock you up. so for him to bring up the fact that you wanted a family so casually like this…you can’t help but feel betrayed. and angry.

“are you serious right now?” your voice was thickly laced with venom, much different than the usual soft tone you’d speak to your husband with. “of course i don’t want to start over! i wanted to be with you forever. wanted to carry your babies and raise them in a happy family! you’re the one who took that away from me because you never wanted to try!”

tears cloud your eyes and a tension begins to choke you. “sure, maybe i was a little pushy about it. i’ll admit that. but is it so wrong for a wife to want to have her husband’s child? is it so wrong to think we were on the same page because you said so? if you didn’t want to have kids with me, sunghoon, you could’ve just said so.”

“i do want to have kids with you, baby.” he squeezes the backs of your thighs again, trailing his hands up the curvature of your ass to finally rest on your lower back. “i want to get you pregnant so badly. i was just worried about the future…this is a big change, but i’m ready. i promise. we can work this out and have the family we always wanted.”

sunghoon begins to press kisses to your lower stomach, so dangerously close to your pelvis that you take a shaky breath. you weren’t wearing anything elaborate, just a regular tee you’d stolen from sunghoon long ago when you were just dating and a flimsy pair of leggings that were see-through when you bend over, so you can feel his breath and kisses through the fabric. you try to push sunghoon away, but he presses closer to your body. his hands that were on your lower back begin to pull the shirt up, exposing your skin to him. “you’d be so pretty pregnant, carrying my baby in your belly. i can’t lose you. don’t want another man to have you. i’ll do anything to fix my mistake.”

though you tried to fight it, you find yourself letting sunghoon guide you to the bed. the same queen sized bed you used to share, cuddling and talking for hours about your plans for the future. he doesn’t waste any time pulling your leggings and panties down, taking in the sight of you finally with him after what feels like forever.

“such a pretty pussy. already so wet for me,” he kisses right on your mound, purposely not getting as close to your clit as you want him. “like always.”

you told yourself that it was just going to be one time. this was your break-up sex and you’d still leave him in the morning while he’s sleeping, maybe leave a note telling him that you just can’t do this anymore. but as sunghoon pushes his thick cock into your soaked cunt, moaning about how you take him so well and he’ll fuck you as many times as he needs to until you’re pregnant with his baby so you can’t leave him, the thought leaves your mind as quickly as it entered.

[merelygifted]

Most of the above what follows the "You don't hate kids" part is very true for me. However...

I dislike a lot of kids I meet, and disliked a lot of kids when I was one myself. So many kids are cruel, thoughtless, rude, merciless, lacking manners, and generally unpleasant.

The kids who bullied me, esp the poor things who could barely read in 3rd grade, all told me I was stupid.

I'd been reading the editorials in the newspaper since I was 4. Had they found out about that, it would have just been another thing that made me weird and stupid.

Being stuck into a classroom with more than 30 kids the first day of 1st grade at a new school was a shock. They were all yelling. It was chaos. I looked around and thought, "How on Earth can I be expected to learn in an environment like this, surrounded by children?!"

Turned out it didn't work at all well for me. What a surprise.

99% of the awful kids at that elementary school were at least as bad when I ran into them again as a teenager at the public high school. I'd been at a different school for 3 years, while they'd honed their nastiness, entrenched themselves in misogyny and bigotry, and grown bigger. The awful ones I'd never met before was also a major bonus.

My dislike of children is one of the myriad reasons I never had any.

Parents, please raise your kids to think about other people. Help them learn that everyone has a different viewpoint, feelings, thoughts, and emotions. Please do your best to raise caring, empathic children, instead of narcissistic, selfish ones. Teach them that bullying is wrong, and only rare situations call for being nasty.

you don't "hate kids," you hate being forced into a caretaking role.

you don't "hate kids," you hate censorship passed off as family values.

you don't "hate kids," you hate the constrictiveness of the nuclear family.

you don't "hate kids," you're just not used to occupying fully age diverse spaces so you're not used to the noise or the many different kinds of needs.

you don't "hate kids," most public spaces just aren't built for kids, and so the few kids you see are always uncomfortable and distressed.

you don't "hate kids," you hate the intense social rules assigned to kids and anyone who interacts with kids.

You don't "hate kids," you hate how society reproduces its most restrictive elements and how kids are powerless to resist it.

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

Can i get a bucktommy kiss nr.17 to distract, please 😘

Tommy's life used to be a lot simpler before he got tangled up with the 118 again. He'd had a few years of relative normalcy and quiet, and then Howie had called him asking to fly into a hurricane and nothing had been simple since then. He'd looked into a pair of blue eyes and his entire life had turned into one long series of complications.

For example, he used to just be able to give exes a birthday present and be done with the whole thing, but this is Evan. Evan, who takes care of everyone without expecting anything in return, who looked Tommy in the eye one day and told him he loved him and asked that he please stop running from that. Evan, who is turning 35 but trying to not make a big deal about it, because his birthday has rarely been a big deal, and so Tommy wants to throw him a surprise party.

Evan, who is home an hour early.

He meets him in the driveway with what is hopefully an apologetic smile and an excuse that he forgot to ask him to pick up some stuff at Home Depot for the gazebo they're building over the next few weeks.

"Do you want to go later?" Evan asks, and Tommy sees his eyes shift almost over his shoulder and realizes that someone might be looking through the curtains.

Thinking fast, he grabs Evan and kisses him, whirling them around so Evan's back is against the tailgate of the truck and facing away from the house. His boyfriend makes a soft noise against his mouth, and Tommy almost forgets why he's doing this in the first place. When he breaks the kiss, he feels dazed for a moment, and Evan is doing that thing where he licks his lips and tips his head down and looks at him through his lashes.

What was Tommy doing?

He sees the flick of a curtain out of the corner of his eye and remembers.

"So, definitely later?" Evan teases, his fingers curling in the space between the top buttons of Tommy's shirt.

"N-no, we should go now," Tommy says, even though he wants nothing less than to have to go out in public and pretend he doesn't want to be somewhere with Evan wrapped around him.

"You sure?" Evan asks, leaning in to nip at his bottom lip and then his chin.

Tommy is not God's strongest soldier, but there are a half dozen people in his house setting up a party. He can't ask them all to leave for a quickie. There's food in the oven, there's streamers being set up.

"Unfortunately, yes," he says, nuzzling Evan's neck and flipping off a cackling Howie in the front window of the house.

As he gets into the truck, he texts Maddie so she can take over the rest of the set-up.

Maddie

Got it! Chimney says to tell you your distraction technique sucks. I'm sure you did your best 😊

Tommy feels Evan squeeze the inside of his thigh as they back out of the driveway and sighs.

Maybe they can find a dimly lit parking garage near Home Depot. That'll keep them from the house for a while.

-

Later, when Evan looks properly surprised and looks at Tommy with a sunny smile and teary eyes, Tommy thanks Maddie profusely for taking over in his absence.

"The extra half hour you bought us really helped," she says, patting his back. "Also, you might want to put something on that rash."

He claps a hand over the stubble burn on his neck. "Is it that bad?"

"You look like you got wiped down with sandpaper," Howie adds unhelpfully. "Good trip to Home Depot? Saw that the truck bed was empty."

"They were out of wood," Tommy lies, squirming past the two smirking Hans.

"Oh, I'm sure there was plenty of wood!" Howie calls at his back, and Tommy hears the distant sound of a high five.

[homemadesterekpie]

there’s something about the concept of Stiles joining Derek’s pack and over time becoming more wolf than human even if he remains technically a human, that i absolutely love… so here’s a little something about that.

losing his entire family transforms Derek into someone more primitive, more feral, parts of himself that had been buried under years of masking when living out alongside humans are now back with a vengeance.

his mother always believed in living a double life, living the best of both worlds and Derek always thought the same but then his entire family burned to death.

now he wants to live as a wolf. let the wolf to the forefront and take the lead. doesn’t mean he’s in wolf form all the time it just means he’s letting his instincts take control and he stops second guessing them.

Stiles joins his pack pretty early on because Scott has a death wish apparently and Stiles does not want to die thank you very much.

he starts spending all of his time with Derek and the betas, in the forest. his dad starts asking questions because Stiles is not even there for supper when he’s off duty anymore and he’s almost never in his bed in the morning either.

Stiles can’t sleep without Derek anymore. his room smells wrong. his own bed feels wrong to sleep on. the entire house smells wrong. his dad is never home anyway.

at school he keeps zoning out while looking outside the window, into the forest. non-packmates brush against him in the halls and he has to make a giant effort not to snarl at them.

Isaac, Erica and Boyd become his shadows. during lunch they leave the school grounds and run into the forest doing God knows what. the school starts talking, the sheriff gets informed. Scott gets told.

they both corner Stiles when he gets back from school along with Isaac, Erica and Boyd.

Stiles sighs through his nose when he sees Scott’s bike and the cruiser in the driveway. he looks to the three wolves and they look back. they haven’t needed to use words in a while.

they follow him inside the house that hasn’t felt like home to Stiles in some time now.

Scott is pissed the wolves came along, the sheriff doesn’t understand. he asks if they’re Stiles’s new friends and that maybe they aren’t a good influence on him, which provokes some low growls from the wolves. Isaac taking one of Stiles’s wrists in one hand and pulling slightly with a short whine.

Stiles soothes him with a touch and huff through his nose. won’t be long.

Stiles tells his dad that his grades are fine so whats the problem. his dad is a bit stunned. Scott is so red he looks like he’ll explode at any moment.

his dad says he’s just worried about him and Scott nods along. Stiles says he’s fine and that they don’t need to worry about him. they just need to let him be.

the sheriff kind of panics because it feels a lot like he’s losing control of his kid. like he’s actively losing him somehow. but he can’t pinpoint exactly why so he just deflates in defeat.

Stiles says again he doesn’t have to worry about him and with that he goes upstairs to his room to grab what he had come here for and then he’s out of the door, his wolves leading the way, leaving a livid Scott and a shook sheriff behind.

Scott comes out the door and shouts things at Stiles. Stiles doesn’t even look his way as he gets into his jeep and backs out the driveway.

when they get to the forest, Stiles hugs Derek tightly and lets him nuzzle his neck, his hair. Putting his scent back on him. he tells Derek what happened. Derek just looks at him, intently.

Stiles tells him he doesn’t want to leave anymore. he wants to stay here. with Derek. with the betas. that going into town doesn’t feel right anymore. and he gets upset as he tries to explain to Derek why he can’t be out there anymore.

Derek just pulls him into his arms and makes the low rumbling noise he makes whenever Stiles or one of his wolves are upset and need to be soothed.

Stiles clings to him. his alpha. staying away from him for too long is becoming painful. the betas can feel it too. the stronger their pack gets, the harder it is to be apart. being with the betas at school is just enough to keep them all sane.

the day Stiles turns 18, he moves out of the house and into the forest. the betas + Peter helps with the move. he moves out while his dad is at work and he gets home to his son’s room stripped of everything except furniture and a letter on the bare mattress.

Stiles’ words tells him not to worry about him and that he’s not far. that Stiles loves him but he needs to do this. that Stiles will keep an eye on him so not to do anything stupid.

the sheriff wonders around the house feeling numb until he notices the framed picture of him and Stiles when he was still a child, is missing from its frame on the wall. Stiles obviously took it with him. and thats what breaks him. he’s upset but that small gesture gives him hope. hope that his son is not completely lost to him.

the pack builds themselves a life out in the forest. they barely leave it now. only when Stiles wants to check on his dad or pack matters require them to leave it.

Scott follows Allison and her family out of state after Derek’s pack make a formal request. No hunters will be permitted to enter much less reside on Hale lands without explicit permission from the pack. Chris Argent tries to negotiate but the mated Alpha pair is adamant. either they leave their territory or they’ll be made to leave it.

Stiles sets up protective runes around his childhood home. the best ones he’s got. and he leaves an amulet on his dad’s bedside table and a note that says to put it on and never take it off. the sheriff does as he’s told without question.

by now he’s used to his son doing things from the shadows. he barely sees him but he also feels near at all times. like he’s always there, watching over him. like he said he would.

sometimes he finds baskets of stuff on his porch when he gets back from a long shift. some seasonal produce, fresh game, the occasional preserves and pickles. there’s no note usually but he knows who leaves them.

when he unpacks the baskets he leaves them back out on the porch to be picked up again.

sometimes he can hear howls from the forest. it took him a long time to finally understand what they meant, since after all, there’s no wolves in California.

Stiles is part of something old. so old it’s actually ancient. and sacred. something that has its own culture and rules. something he will never fully understand. but he understands enough and it settles something in him that had been unsettled ever since that day him and Scott cornered Stiles after school.

[myownwholewildworld]

Hey! Congrats, you just won the "best horny nasty orgasm-inducing peepaw Joel miller ficwriter"! Thank you for your service, comrade. You're one of our greatest leaders in this fandom 🥲

That being said, I'd like to take this opportunity to request some more Joel Miller filth with the depraved thought I just had: horse riding with Joel on patrol and reaching around his body to jerk him off while he tries to keep his shit together while you kiss his neck and whisper the dirtiest things to him. He can't resist his girl and her dirty mouth and ends up cumming all over her hands and his jeans (think these stains will be funny to explain to Tommy when he meets the two of you when you're just arriving back in Jackson, huh?)

well, being bestowed with such a title is the GREATEST HONOUR OF MY LIFE !!! 🥹 no, nonnie, thank you for your horny thots because HOLY FUCKING SHITTTTT… he would be hesitant at first cause he wants to do a good job when he's out on patrol, but when you start teasing him... he just can't resist you, your sinful hands wrapping around him... what if you eat his cum? what if you feed it to him too? 🫣

i felt demonic things down there asdfghjklñ please accept this gift, hope u enjoy it omfg <3

old man!joel miller collection masterlist

more old man!joel miller dirty fucking filth under the cut 👇

The day had been exhaustingly long—your butt hurt from so much riding, but regrettably not from cock riding, your favourite activity in this decrepit world. Only Joel knew how to keep your worries at bay, and many a times it implied you gushing all over him. You had spent the last five hours atop of Joel’s horse, sitting behind him and hugging his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your back hurt like hell, muscles painfully taut and pulled. And the best way to unwind? Well, you had something in mind.

When you were out on patrol, Joel took his job very seriously, focused on the reconnaissance mission with exasperating diligence. Your advances on him had gone unnoticed by your old man, but you couldn’t blame him for wanting to do a proper job. It was part of his appeal.

However, now on your way back to Jackson, surely he wouldn’t mind. This thought had been nagging at the back of your mind for a while, your laced hands tentatively pressing against his lower tummy. Joel felt so tense under your touch, you knew the best remedy to get him to relax.

Chewing your bottom lip to hide a mischievous grin, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, leaving love bites while your hands slithered under his coat, your cold palms stroking his hairy trail. His skin was hot to the touch, so much you let go of a satisfied sigh.

“Your hands are so damn cold. I told you to wear gloves, darlin’” he tutted at you, eyes watching the path ahead.

“But I don’t like wearing gloves, babe. They get in the way,” you whispered, your mouth caressing the shell of his ear.

“In the way of what?” your poor old man asked innocently.

“Well…” you giggled. Why tell him when you could show him?

You shoved one hand down his worn jeans. Joel wasn’t wearing any boxers, making his cock easily accessible. The steamy warmth his bulge seeped was very much welcomed, your fingers curling around his limp dick.

“If I was wearing gloves, I wouldn’t be able to jerk you off right now, would I?” you teased him, your hand still around him, waiting.

Joel’s back stiffened, his breathing becoming shallower. If you had had one hand over his chest, you would have felt his heart racing at the prospect of your promise. Joel cleared his throat, mouth pressed into a thin line and squirmed a little on the saddle.

“Right now? While riding back home?” he questioned, and if you didn’t know him better, you might have though he sounded perplexed. “Can’t you wait twenty minutes? We’re so close.”

“Oh, you are about to be closer, gorgeous,” you pledged, peppering kisses on the sensitive skin of his neck. “I want to do this now, please.”

Joel huffed and puffed, but didn’t stop you when you gently squeezed his soft dick on your palm. He felt so velvety, warm and like putty under your touch. You enjoyed working him hard, see if you could get him to naturally get it up without the need for blue pills. Sometimes it worked, others didn’t—and you loved doing it either way. There was something powerful about holding him so intimately out in the open, your way to claim your territory. To tell others to back off, because he was yours—yours to love, to fuck.

“And I know you want this too. You like it when I take advantage of an old man like you, huh?” you whispered in his ear, nibbling at his earlobe and pulling it between your teeth.

Joel’s exasperation evolved into a gritted moan when you tugged at his hardening shaft, his jaw clenched in concentration, a palpitating tick near his chin. Considering how you always melted under his attention, seeing the roles reversed for once had you reeling for more.

Movement was restricted, so with your left hand you pulled down the pull tab of his jeans, giving you room to manoeuvre. Your free fingers stalked the zipper before diving in and scooping his heavy, loaded balls. Now his sacks and cock were spilling over the zipper, exposed to the elements and to your undivided attention.

You carefully massaged his balls, taking the weight off him while your right hand clutched around his gifted girth with adoration. Joel’s chocolate eyes fluttered shut, unconsciously leaning back against your chest, relaxing in your welcoming embrace.

“You’re tired, aren’tcha?” you crooned, tracing the bulging vein on his neck with the tip of your nose. “Your bones hurt, don’t they? You’re too old for long patrols now, baby. They leave you exhausted, tense. Should do something more attuned to your age.”

Joel didn’t speak, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

You smiled to yourself, licking the salt of his neck, and squeezed his balls harder. Soon your magic worked—a firing pulse went up his length, his cock now throbbing on your hand as it began to stiffen.

Success.

Feeling his erection grow thicker and harder, your lips returned to his ear.

“They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. But you? The way to yours is through your balls. You love when I hold them, massage them for you, just to get your muscles to slacken. You love it when I kiss them and put them in my mouth, don’t you, baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” Joel growled, voice raspy with need.

“Just imagine me with my mouth so full of your balls, how I’d look up at you all innocent and drooling all over your lap, so ready to take your cock,” you purred again, your cunt dampening just with the thought of eating his balls, of giving him head. “And you know my pussy would be so wet, I’d be soaking my panties just for you. Just like I am now.”

Joel’s breathing accelerated, his chest raising in quick succession as you jerked him off with an extra tight grip, your other hand playing with his balls. Completely surrendered to you, to your handling. He was fully erect now, his cock throbbing with a beautiful melody—you could feel his heart pumping blood to his shaft.

You lapped at his neck again, sinking your teeth before soothing the skin with a kiss, then sucked to leave a hickey. Picking up the pace, you squeezed him harsher, your fingers wrapped around his ball sacks, tracing the ridge in the middle with your thumb.

Looking down, you saw his cockhead flushed, angrily red and weeping for you. A shiny pearl of precum topped his tip, and before it slid down his length, you buttered it on his sensitive skin with your thumb.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, sweetheart. Fuck,” Joel mumbled. You could feel him getting close to release. “Are you wet? Bet your pussy is crying to be stuffed full, ain’t her?”

You laughed, soft and tempting, as you licked behind his ear.

“So, so wet,” you whispered, feeling the warm slick pooling in your slit, leaking and drenching your panties. “If I didn’t have my hands full right now, I would be fucking myself. But no one does it like you do. You make me come so easily, it’s actually embarrassing.”

“It’s ‘cause your sweet pussy is so damn sensitive, darlin’.”

Joel caught you off guard, reaching behind himself to shove a hand down the front of your trousers, rough palm pressing against your mound as his ring finger found the dampness your cunt harboured for him. He flicked your pulsing clit, and you mewled like a kitten in heat.

“You ain’t lying, fuck,” Joel growled, his cock beating faster on your palm.

Letting go of his balls, you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and forced him to take his hand out of your underwear. You tsked at him in reproach. “No touching, baby. We are focusing on you right now. Behave for me, please, or I’ll stop.”

Joel grunted but didn’t try again. Instead, he raised his hand to his mouth and licked your slick off his wet ring finger. He moaned, as if he had just tasted the gates of heaven, and just the sight alone of him doing such a thing had you leaking everywhere.

Your free hand returned to his testicles, masturbating him harder, faster now. Peeling his skin back, just to sheathe him again, your thumb stroking the weeping slit. Joel’s chest rumbled with a low baritone, his balls tensing into the base of his cock, and when he was about to spill, you stopped.

“Fuck, I’m behaving!” He gritted, frustrated.

“I know you are, I’m just making sure you got the message,” you giggled, kissing the nape of his neck. “Plus, I like edging you.”

You did that again two more times—increasing the rhythm of your hand, building up his orgasm as his balls grew heavier, full of his white seed, just to suddenly stop. And every time, Joel became more restless, sweat gathering on his prominent brows, ruggedly breathing and jaw so tightly shut you feared he might break a tooth.

“Please,” he begged huskily, walking the edge of his climax again.

You finally took pity on him. Keeping your fingers firmly curled around his thick girth and your palm squeezing his loaded balls, you jerked him off fast until the first white ropes flew everywhere. Joel groaned audibly, his knuckles white around the reins, as his seed landed on your hands, his jeans, the saddle.

And for a minute, he was the gift that kept on giving. You’d edged him so much, he had three rounds of cum ready to shoot. His lap was a complete mess, your knuckles covered in his seed, and you couldn’t resist the urge to raise your hand to your mouth and kitten-lick his cum off your skin until you were all clean.

“You’ve made such a mess, old man,” you tittered again, hand dropping to his lap to sweep the spent off his jeans and the saddle with your fingers before you shoved them down your mouth again. “Mhmm… So fucking delicious, but it tastes better when you feed it to me directly off your cock. Fresh from the source.”

“You love running your mouth, don’tcha?” Joel husked when he finally found his voice, regulating his breathing. “Filthy girl.”

“I learnt from the best.”

When you finished cleaning your hands, his jeans and the saddle, you noticed he had some drops of cum on the back of his right hand. You gathered it all on your index finger, you offered it to him with a naughty smile, to feed it to him yourself.

“Help me clean up,” you whispered, bringing his cum closer to his lips. “Don’t wanna do all the work myself, s’not fair.”

Joel hesitated for a second, but when his mouth hung open, you put your finger between his lips. His tongue swirled around your finger, eating his own cum.

Once he licked your digit clean and nipped teasingly at your fingertip, your hand dropped to his chest, feeling his racing heart even over his winter coat. Your pussy fluttered needily—something about Joel tasting his own spent had you hornier than ever.

You sighed heavily, feeling your heartbeat on your clit now, while you delicately pushed his half-hard cock and balls back into his jeans and zipped him up.

“You better pay me well after this,” you warned him, rocking your hips on the saddle so you could get some friction on your crying cunt. “I need to get fucked real bad right now.”

“Wait till we get home, young lady. I’mma rearrange your fucking guts, and that’s a promise I intend to keep,” there was no trace of joke nor doubt in his deep voice.

His oath had you gnawing at his shoulder. And luckily, five minutes later you were in the stables in Jackson, handing Joel’s horse to a boy and girl nearby to take care of it.

Tommy walked in, a tired expression and a dirty rug twisting on his hands.

“Any trouble out there?”

“No, none. It was actually quite peaceful and uneventful, right, Joel?” you ventured a soft smile in your old man’s direction.

Joel gave a stern nod, eyeing you like a predator, as if you were a little innocent lamb ready to be devoured by a hungry, wild wolf.

“What happened to your jeans?” Tommy asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“I spilled my water bottle when I opened it to drink, that’s all,” Joel quickly replied.

Tommy’s head tilted, then shrugged before he disappeared. You could bet he hadn’t bought Joel’s poor excuse.

“When I fucking catch ya,” Joel closed the distance between you two, his thumb pushing your chin up for a kiss.

“First you’ll have to catch me,” you went on your tiptoes to give him a quick peck, then turned around and ran home with Joel on your heels.

You were about to be punished for your daring, and you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

[revelboo]

In your drift fic and seeing drift is happy that reader is mad at him and smiling, while his human is not and pissed off lol

Ratchet is also not pleased by this, which is making the situation worse. My boy drift what've you done 😔

He’s trying his best to take care of reader, but tends to neglect caring that much for himself. I figure he and Ratchet aren’t quite together, yet.

Sure! I think I can use the mass post editor after work tonight to add the valveplug tag to everything. Just figured out my little 🌶️ emoji is searchable. That’s going to make this so much easier 🤣 I’ll get that stuff tagged with valveplug, but it’s going to take me a bit and I’ve got another 8 hour class today. But fair warning, all of what I write has those elements crop up eventually- I write spicy storylines and scenarios. I do write fluff, but I also write a lot of risqué stuff

The Samurai Code Pt 10

Drift x Reader

• “Can you undo what he did?” You ask, ignoring Drift to glare at Ratchet. Will undoing it leave you slowly dying again? Or was whatever he did enough to permanently cure you? And you smack at his servo without any real heat when Drift tries to run it down your arm. You’re still trying to reconcile the things you’d seen while tangled in him. His guilty need to make amends, his life all right there for you to live and you’d gotten the impression that he’s ancient. To him your life is a moment, it’s nothing.

• “The only way to remove a partial bond is by fully bonding another bot and having them shred the old bond,” Ratchet growls, exhausted with both of you, because whole it’s doable, it’s taboo. And traumatic. Turning his stare on Drift as the bot tries to touch you again and he knows that’s the bond. Needing to touch you, be near you. Eventually to claim all of you. “Do you have any idea how long a human lives?” He demands and the other bot glances at you, but you won’t meet his optics, jaw clenching. Do you know how long they live then? Had you gotten that from the bond?

• “A couple thousand years?” He hazards, servos brushing your spine and you allow it. Allow him to touch you and it eases some of that need spangling through him. Had never really imagined taking a bond mate. Definitely not an organic one, but he doesn’t regret what he did. That he’d saved a life instead of taking it. Your shoulders hunch slightly under his touch. He’ll try to make you happy. Try to take care of you. And it’ll be nice to not be alone, optics lifting to Ratchet, there’s a moment of disconnect. Of a path that he’d been just starting to walk and now he’s pretty sure that choice is lost. Likes the irritable medic, his temper and attitude sparking through him. But it’s not like Ratchet liked him in return.

• “Eighty or ninety years,” you whisper at the same time Ratchet snarls ‘a vorn.’ And Drift just looks from you to the medic. “So you can’t ever do that again,” you add, voice gentle. “If you fully bond to me by accident, you’ll die when I do, won’t you?” And he’s silent staring at you like he can’t believe how short your life is compared to his. Hate that even as you’re furious at him for doing it even though you’d told him no, that you’re also so thankful you want to breakdown crying. Because you didn’t want to die out here far from home.

• Swearing softly, Ratchet slumps back in his chair, head back. And Drift can’t stop staring at you. He’d seen all of you while bonding with you, seen that you’re nothing like he is, that you’re good. Knows he shouldn’t want to claim you fully, to tarnish your brightness with his darkness. But a selfish part of him wants to lose himself in that light, to pretend that he’s only Drift that Deadlock never was. “The bond needs to be replenished regularly or you’ll grow weaker,” he manages. Not a lie. Less than a vorn then to make up for his sins. No time at all, but he’s lived a long time anyway. And looking at Ratchet, regrets hums through him.

Previous

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 17

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, ANGST, badly proofread Wordcount: 3.4K A/C: short chapter to set everything up for the FINAL chapter of the Before London section! enjoy this :) i'm sorry...

-

Before London

three weeks later

“Hey baby, come in,” Lala steps aside to let me into her and Arike’s beautiful apartment. Despite how quickly I had grown close with the two of them, I hadn’t been here since that night early in the season. That night I chose wrong.

“You look gorgeous!” I smile, holding a bag of pastries and two iced matchas in my other hand.

“So do you Zari,” the older woman smiles as I make my way in. The AC brings relief quickly, August in Dallas not any cooler than July. “I love the shorts.”

I smooth over my white linen shorts, the matching button up left open with a black tube top underneath. I follow Lala to the couch, sitting down on the opposite corner, letting my hair down from a clip.

“Where’s Arike?” I ask, handing the other matcha to her.

“Practice,” Lala says. “I swear she doesn’t do anything but train now that it looks like they’re making it to the playoffs.”

I chuckle, sipping on my drink. Indeed the Dallas Wings had really turned it around since the early season, Arike and her had become a feared backcourt duo already. Things were looking positively bright for the team despite everything else.

“So, how are you doin’?” Lala asks.

“Oh, I’m good, lots of work but… Good. And you?”

Lala looks at me tilting her head and reaching out to stroke my arms comfortingly. “Zari, I mean how are you really?”

Gulping, I move my gaze from her intruding eyes to the matcha in my hands. I know what she wants to talk about. And I should talk about it to someone. But it was easier to just bury myself in work. 

It had been three weeks since me and Paige spoke. Of course there were forced conversations here and there, running into her at the apartment building, interviews and content we had to do together. But we got through those, we’re both professionals after all. Other than that there hadn’t been many words.

I need some space Paige. I’m sorry it has to be like this. I really care about you, but I have to think what’s right for me. It’s all too much too soon and I need to think about what I want. I’m sorry.

Izzie please could I just come over and talk abt this. Please.

I think it’s best we don’t talk for a little while Paige.

Those were the last texts between me and her. Radio silence after that. I guess exactly what I’d asked for, except it was killing me inside. I felt sick all the time, unable to eat or sleep. The nausea was overwhelming, leaving me to nibble on my food until I felt sick to my stomach. It showed, I could tell I looked tired, worn. 

“I’m… hanging in there, you know?” I finally answer.

Lala nods, stroking my arm caringly. “What’s going on with you and Paige?”

My heart stumbles. When I was little I had a habit of pressing bruises on my legs to make them hurt - hearing her name felt like that, echoing in my ear painfully. I bite down on my lower lip to stop the trembling. Stop Izzie. Stop.

“I just, I don’t think I’m ready for what she wants,” I mumble, ignoring the burn in my eyes or the scratchiness of my throat. “She told me she loved me.”

She nods knowingly. I guess Paige had told her all about it too. It hurts me to know I hurt her enough to have her coming to Lala and Arike for advice.

“And you don’t feel the same?” She asks, biting down on the pastry.

Without hesitation I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… My past and I haven’t healed enough yet. I keep projecting my fears onto Paige and it’s not fair. It’s just gonna keep getting worse until… Until she realises I’m not a good person. Or a lovable person.”

“Zari, you know that’s not true,” Lala comforts me. But I don’t need comforting over it. I know it’s true. I’ve accepted it. I shrug, taking a sip of my matcha.

“So you love her,” Lala doesn’t ask but states as a fact. My heart sinks. I don’t know what I feel. Perhaps she’s right, perhaps I do. But everytime I dared to think it might be true, I remember what happens to me when I fall in love. What happened the last time, bound to happen again.

“I don’t know how I feel,” I admit, my voice shakier than I’d like. Inhaling deeply, I say the words that force me to face reality. “I think if it’s this hard already… It will never work out.”

“Respectfully, I disagree,” Lala says surprisingly. “You two are really good together, good for each other.”

“Then why is it so hard to make it work?” I ask, my eyes welling up. In a perfect world, I would just want her, and that would be enough. But in this one, nothing about this was easy. I had to live in reality, not in some fairytale I had created in my mind.

“Me and Rike had issues too at first,” she says. I furrow my brows. Her and Arike? But they were perfect.

Like reading my mind she chuckles. “I know, but trust me we did. It took a lot of work and resilience to get to this point. But we both knew it was worth it because in the end we were meant to be together, y’know.”

“How do you know it’s worth it?” I ask.

The woman smiles, taking my hand and squeezing it. “That’s for you to figure out, Zari.”

-

“I like your accent”

“I like your accent”

“I like your accent”

I look at the clip over and over, Gabby eyeing her up and down before walking off. Jealousy runs through my veins straight into my heart. I guess I didn’t have the right to be jealous, not anymore.

My mind could barely wrap around what had happened between us. I wanted to blame Trey, that her advances had freaked Izara out. I wanted to blame Gabby, that she got into Izara’s head and made her change her mind about me. But I knew it wasn’t true. It was just easier to blame someone else than to accept that the fault was mine.

I couldn’t believe how I had behaved that night. Izzie, who had been brave enough to be vulnerable about her past, had revealed parts of herself to me that she hadn’t to anyone else. And I had made a promise to protect her heart. And I had done the complete opposite.

A horrible dread loomed over me, preying on me behind every corner. The only time I could escape it was on the court, so most of my days were spent at our practicing facilities with Arike. She did her best to get me to talk about me and Izzie, but I had become skillful in the art of avoidance. Yet, when I climbed up the stairs of our building, past her door, my heart sank each time. The one place I couldn’t avoid her was home

I miss you

I write the text, finger hovering over the send button before deleting it. No. She needed space.

And if I loved her at all, I'd give it to her. Even if it killed me inside.

-

I yawn as I hold my coffee cup, inhaling the comforting smell. I hadn’t really been sleeping well in the past weeks, apparent by the layers of makeup I had to add to my undereyes that had darkened. 

“Are the girls ready soon?” The set director yells, peeking her head into the dressing room. 

“About to get dressed,” the stylist said, handing around grey, black and white boxers. Woxer - the women’s boxer brand had got some of the Wings to do a photoshoot, so now the players were lined up in chairs, getting their makeup and hair done in the early morning.

I’m trying my best to keep my eyes at the floor, but every now and then my gaze flickers to Paige, as she laughs lightheartedly with Lou, without a care in the world.

Trey’s on his phone beside me, texting quietly. 

“Hey Trey, could you take some pics from right here please?” I ask, whispering, watching the way the player’s impressions reflect on the mirror.

Trey, with a quiet huff, rolls his eyes but does as I asked wordlessly. Ever since that night he tried to kiss me, he had been cold and distant. It sucked, because I thought we were friends. But I was never a friend to him, I saw that now. Still, I felt guilty. Maybe I had led him on. Perhaps I’d been too harsh.

The girls change, all standing around in their boxers and sports bras. I can’t tear my eyes from Paige, her tan skin against the white cotton. The effort she had put in had done favors to her - her weight had gone up, shoulders broad and arms grown especially in her biceps, much like her thighs. Oh God. This couldn’t possibly get worse for me.

And then it does.

Two people walk in, holding a body oil and begin to lather the players up one by one. My body wants me to forget the past three weeks and rub the oil into Paige’s skin myself as I watch these strangers’ massage her body. Her muscles look more defined, smooth skin glowing as she looks at herself in the mirror and grins.

“Holy shit,” she chuckles and flexes in the mirror. “Goddamn I look sexy.”

My heart flutters, eyes burning suddenly like they did every time she spoke around me. It was so easy to imagine everything was okay between us. God, I wish they were. But I didn’t know anymore. Love shouldn’t be this hard. So it can’t be real love.

Mine and Paige’s gazes meet in the mirror momentarily, but I quickly look to the ground, walking with the crew to the set doing everything I can not to even look the blonde’s way.

“The girls are gonna love this,” Arike chuckles as they get positioned in front of the camera. I smile to myself. She wasn’t wrong. The Wings’ demographic had changed immensely, crowds full of girls ogling over each player - mostly over my girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend, I mean. I guess. We were still just on a break.

The girls go through the group photos, moving on to singular shots. They all look amazing, and I know this campaign was a good one to get for them. I sip on my coffee, posting teasers on social media when the set director taps my shoulder.

“Hey, could you be a doll and help out a bit,” she smiles. I glance around, everyone else is running around, helping the other girls.

“Of course, whatever you need,” I reply, putting my phone down. Only to see her hand me a bottle of baby oil, pointing to the set where Paige is standing, getting final touches for her hair. You have to be fucking joking. What did I do in my past life to deserve this.

Too nice to resist, or to ask for someone else to do it, I take a deep breath before walking over to the blonde. Her eyes widen momentarily as I approach her. Paige clears her throat, and bites down on her bottom lip.

“Hey,” I say quietly, showing her the bottle. 

“Sup,” she replies, looking everywhere but at me as I pour the oil onto my hands.

“Sorry, they needed help,” I murmur, bracing myself before walking behind her and beginning to oil up her newly carved out back - not that I should notice or care. But I do.

 I don’t miss the goosebumps forming on her skin as I rub her body, kneeling down to do her legs. My hands massage her calves, knees and finally her thighs. My body was betraying me, forcing me to take gulps of air as quietly as I could as my hands wander over Paige’s body. Every nerve inside me feels as if on fire. I do my best to ignore it, but a nagging feeling in my head tells me she feels it too.

Getting back up face to face with her, I begin to massage the oil into her hands. Those strong, long fingers, one by one. Her hand curls slightly in mine. Just enough to make me wonder if I imagined it.

Suddenly her voice cuts through the tension. “So, how you been?” There’s no malice, no anger. A genuine question. It catches me off guard.

“Um, good. I mean okay,” I murmur, my eyes glued on Paige’s arms so I didn’t have to look into her ocean blue eyes. “How about you?”

She nods slowly. “Okay too,” she says in a hoarse voice, her breath hitching when my long nails scratch against her abs before rubbing in the oil. We go quiet, the hussle of the set seems distant around us.

“All done,” I say, glancing up to let myself take a dip in her eyes just for a moment. I nearly drown, wanting to say more. But there was nothing to say.

Paige looks down at me, exhaling shakily.

“Thanks, Iz,” she hums. Hearing my name come out of her mouth again felt euphoric. In that moment I want to make it work more than anything.

-

“Gotta be kidding,” I mumble to myself after the second time I tried to wash my body clean of the oil. It didn’t help. I kept finding it everywhere. As I’m about to hop back into the shower, my phone rings. Dad.

“Sup Bobby,” I answer, putting on my best act of my normal self. Though I was just slightly elated from feeling Izzie’s hands on me earlier. It was enough to keep me going for the rest of the day. However, it reminded me of how badly I missed her. And I did. Every damn day.

“I’m not loving that nickname,” my dad jokes. “Was just asking if you’re still flying in next week?”

Fuck. I had completely forgotten I had promised to show up to surprise my little brother who had been missing me badly according to my dad. Next week was the only time I could, before the playoffs would consume my life.

“Yeah, ‘course,” I mumble, sitting on the corner of my bed in my robe.

“Drew’s gonna be so damn happy,” he says happily into the phone. I chuckle dryly in response. I would die for my brother, but it was the worst timing with everything going on. “You bringing your girl too? Would be nice to see Zari!”

I nearly hiss at the sound of her name. Clenching my fist I shake my head as if my dad could see it.

“Nah,” is all I can muster up.

“Uh oh,” he says into the phone. “Trouble in paradise?”

I exhale, trying to think of a way to lie myself out of this one. Except I don’t have the strength to. So I tell him everything, the I love you, the bar fights, the secrecy, every little detail that had gone right and put me and Izzie on a path we weren’t supposed to be on. This couldn’t be God’s way.

“Shit,” he says bluntly. I chuckle bitterly, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

My dad stays on the line, quiet for a while before speaking. “You know, sometimes love doesn’t happen at the speed you wish it did.”

I listen. He’s right. Much like Izzie made schedules of her entire life, I created a schedule in my head of our relationship. One I was disappointed she wasn’t following. Despite being very aware of her past.

“It don’t mean she doesn’t love you, or care about you just as much as you do about her. But people bring different baggage into their relationships and it just… Changes how they view love y’know? I met that girl. She spent the entire time laughing at my stupid jokes and talking with your old man. She loves you. But maybe to say it outloud for her means something else than it does for you.”

I hate that he’s right. My mind jumps back to Izzie telling me about Jasper, the way she was trembling and hyperventilating when I accidentally snapped at her - all because of one man that had really messed her up. She was always hard to read. I knew everything she told me about her engagement was likely just the tip of the iceberg. How could I be so impatient and careless with her. 

“I mean maybe you just gotta be patient - Not easy for you I know but... Give her some time. She’ll come around Paige. Just do something small to show her that you’ll be there when she’s ready.”

His words really hit me. I knew exactly what to do. Telling my dad I’ll call him later I get dressed in a rush, checking the clock. She’d be home in about five minutes. I knew this because of course I had memorised her schedule.

I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere. - P

Hurrying downstairs, I leave in front of her apartment door the note on top of the real Cadbury’s chocolate bar I ordered from England - the exact one Izzie had told me she missed on our first date. 

-

5, 6, 7… I count the reps in my head as I do shoulder press, sweat trickling down my back. The burn in my muscles makes me shut my eyes, Drake blasting from my earbuds. I let out a deep sigh of relief when I finally place the weights down onto the ground. The weight room was the only place I found my mind going quiet - the only place I didn’t worry about me and Izzie. 

“Paige,” Arike jogs to the room, out of breath. “Bro.”

I turn, expecting to see her usual, smiley self. Instead I’m faced with serious, furrowed brows, frowning Arike. Something’s wrong. Very wrong.

“Yeah?” I ask, taking off my earbud. She walks to me, shoving her phone onto my hand.

-

I run the hallways of College Park, my sneakers squeaking against the floor echoing up and down the halls. Where the hell is she? This can’t be happening. No fucking way this is happening.

My heart feels like it might burst. Like it’s trying to race out of my chest as I look for the familiar dark waves, the sharp green eyes, the confident posture of the woman I loved. Where the fuck is Izara?

My stomach churns. I feel sick, not just for me. But for Izzie. Almost mindlessly I check behind every unlocked door, every corner. But I can’t find her.

“Trey!” I yell, running after the man walking ahead of me. He turns, clearly still angry from what happened at the bar. I don’t care. It’s the least of my worries right now. “You seen Izzie?”

He rolls his eyes but shakes his head. “Not since this morning.”

“Fuck,” I mumble and jog off the other direction. Never had I cursed College Park for being such a maze before. The fluorescent lights were making my eyes dry and my head spinned. Finally I decide to stop. 

Closing my eyes I listen. I hear it. The clacking of her heels.

It’s faint. But it’s her.

Walking toward the sound behind a corner I find her, like some miracle. But seeing her only makes me feel more sick to my stomach.

“Izzie,” I pant out, my lower lip trembling but I bite down on it to make it stop.

“P- Paige? What’s wrong?” She asks, immediately taken back by my expression.

Without a word, I hand her my phone. On the screen it’s playing a video with over 500k views. From three weeks ago, Izzie and I, hugging and dancing against each other in the dim, purple hue of the club lights.  And finally, facing each other and clearly, without a doubt, kissing each other passionately carelessly. The entire moment just for us, now shared with everyone online.

-

taglist: @wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @enchantingesme @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @gayflygirl @saverdelrey @xoxosierralane @katemartinsfuturewife @nicebellee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @cowboybueckers

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Hello would it be possible to do a dick Grayson x reader at the beginning he dates her just to make his ex jealous when he get back with his ex he relise that he fell in love with her so he’s trying to win her back at the end they get back together

Could you also add a moment where dick get jealous and a pov of him. I love some angst moments

Sure is!! Sorry this took so long to get to, I'm in the galapagos islands rn and college has been kicking my ass and winning

Pft, Whatever.

Jealous! Dick Grayson x Reader

Not real warnings other than a bit of angst and a ton of unfaithfulness😋

It was some rainy thursday when you met him.

You were trying to balance two paper coffee cups and your phone while wrestling your umbrella into submission when someone cought it just before the wind did. A smooth voice asked, “Need a hand?” You look up—and there he was.

Dick Grayson.

Letting him help was probably the worst decision of your life.

He was clothed a Gotham University hoodie and sweats, the kind of outfit that shouldn’t look good on anyone and somehow looked sculpted on him. His entire presence was almost like that of a Greek statue. He flashed you a smile, all effortless charm and dimpled mischief, and you were momentarily stunned silent.

“Thanks,” you managed, handing him one of the coffee cups in silent thanks while you got your umbrella under control. Stupid rain. You probably wouldn't have even met if it weren't for the crappy Gotham weather.

“No problem. You looked like you were about to enter mortal combat with that thing.”

You laughed- it was instinctive, disarming. You could feel yourself flushing a little as you took the cup back. He didn't walk away, though. Instead, he stood beside you for a moment, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket, glancing up at the stormy sky like it told a joke only he heard.

“Name’s Dick,” he mentioned finally, offering his hand as his eyes met yours again.

You took it. Rooky move. “I know,” you said. “I’ve seen you on the news. And—well—everywhere.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty. You?”

You told him your name, and you were honestly surprised by the way he repeater it, like he was rolling it over in his mouth to make sure it fit. You didn't expect him to remember it.

He did.

You didn't date immediately. At first, it was chance meetings. He showed up at your usual coffee spot. He passed by your bookstore window and waves. Sometimes he'd leave sticky notes on your bike seat—doodles, silly jokes, an occasional riddle. Always signed, “Grayson.”

By the time he asked you out, it felt inevitable.

Your first date was in a quiet rooftop garden above a city building you didn’t even know existed. He brought you takeout—real takeout, greasy Chinese boxes and everything—and you sat on the ledge watching the traffic below, listening to him tell stories you could barely believe were true. You didn't talk about his past or anything heavier than favorite childhood cartoons and worst first dates.

You thought, maybe, he was exactly what you needed. Maybe he saw you as someone real, not a headline or a rebound.

Maybe.

Three weeks in, you woke up to him making breakfast in your kitchen shirtless, humming something familiar. You watched him for a moment—he looks happy. You felt safe. Which, for the record, was a good sign since it was his first time staying the night. You don't think any of your past relationships started off so well, and you certaintly weren't treated breakfast in bed before Dick.

But then came the gala.

You were his date, of course. He introduced you to Bruce, to Tim, to Lucius. All you could do was try your best not to gape at the glittering crowd. Everything felt like a dream, like you were floating on clouds with Dick's arm looped aroynd yours—until she walked in.

She was wearing a red dress that made her look like she stepped off the cover of a high-fashion espionage novel. Her hair was swept to the side in effortless curls, and when her eyes meet Dick’s across the room, you could something in your chest tighten, like the strings of a sharp being tuned just a tad too much. Like the music they played was bound to be off.

You expected her to stay across the room.

You hoped.

She didn't.

“Dick,” she greeted with a voice that was both warm and pointed, her pupils dialating just that slight bit as their eyes met. Then her eyes flicked to you. “And you are?”

You told her your name, smiled, extended a hand. She shook it, but it felt more like a test than a greeting, like she was waiting for it to be wrong. Her hand lingered on Dick’s arm when she laughed at his dumb attempts to start a conversation between the three of you, and your blood simmered a degree hotter every time she touched him.

Everything just felt... Off. Like there was a bit more to their past than he was willing to tell you.

Later that night, in the car, it just felt too heavy. The air was too thick, too hot, and making it feep like your chest was being pressed in against your lungs and heart. “She gets too touchy for my liking.”

It was silent before- not comfortable, but certainly not the worst thing you've experienced with a guy.

Dick glanced at you and laughed—laughed. “Babs? That’s just how she is.”

“Yeah. With you.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes filled with a plea you'd realize later to be complete bullshit before they flickered back to the city streets. “There’s nothing going on between us. Trust me.”

You tried. God, you tried.

You started noticing patterns after that.

The way Dick texts you less when she’s in town. The way he talks about her in the past tense but lights up in the present. The times he cancels your plans with vague excuses that don’t quite add up.

Then comes the night you find the photo.

It’s not even hidden—just tagged on some socialite’s Instagram. Barbara in Dick’s lap, laughing, champagne in hand. His face close to hers. Intimate. Intertwined. Far more emotional than anything he's given you before.

"I was under the impression we were exclusive."

It's a pety text, you know, but there's not much else to do while curled up on your couch near tears over a stupid social media post. Some part of you just hoped it was old, just something that resurfaced once the public started seeing you together just to rile you both up.

But then you saw the chain you got for his birthday dangling from around his neck, pressed right against her cleavage.

He doesn't even respond until nearly 20 minutes later. "Can I come over?"

You almost didn't respond. Hell, you almost didn't see the message from "Birdy Boy💙" through the salty liquid gathering in your tear ducts.

But you did. "Make it quick."

It took him nearly an hour to make it to your apartment.

He blames it on traffic.

You know what he was doing. You know exactly what kind of game he's playing. But deep down, some shriveled part of you tries to believe him.

He doesn’t lie, not exactly. He says he didn’t mean to hurt you. That things with Barbara have always been complicated. That it wasn’t supposed to go this far.

“What wasn’t?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest as you stand in the living room of your apartment. Your throat is raw, and the room is dim. Typically, there would be a much more intimate reason for both of those situations.

He’s silent for a long time, the only sounds coming out of him being his soft breaths. Its rhythmatic, the rise and fall of his chest. It's nearly the same as all the times you've watched it while he slept. “I thought… maybe if she saw me happy, she’d move on. Or maybe—maybe she’d realize she wanted me again.”

He might as well have just taken out your hesrt right there, squeezed it, thrown it to the ground, spat on it, then stomoed it to pieces right there. Your chest is too tight to do anything, your heart pressing against your bones as your ears ring and vision gets slightly misty with tears that just won't fall.

You don’t speak. You can’t.

“So what was I?” you ask finally, voice trembling. You hate that sound. It feels weak, vulnerable... Like he can see right through the calm face you're trying so desperately to keep on. “Your bait? Your mirror?”

He doesn’t answer with anything other than just a short exhale that brings shudders through your spine.

You didn’t need him to. "Get out."

And, for a moment, you catch a glimpse of hesitation in his beautiful blue eyes, a glimpse of something real. But as soon as your eyes meet, he's turning around to leave. As his feet make silent steps toward your apartment door, he slips something out of his pocket and onto your table- the silver chain you got for his birthday.

You don't wait for the door to be fully closed to break down, the sobs racking your body before you even realize they're coming. It's subconscious, the way you still practically chase him like a kicked puppy that just can't get enough until your knees finally give out in front of the door.

You know he's still on the other side, probably mirroring your position sat on the ground leaned against it. You can hear a sharp, shuddering inhale from him just like he can hear your sobs.

You want to open the door. But you don't. Neither of you do.

You didn’t sleep that night.

After Dick left—after the weight of everything he didn’t say sinks into your skin—you sit on the couch, staring into the empty corner where he usually leaves his jacket. The silence in the room presses in like a second heartbeat. You think about every smile, every laugh, every night you thought he looked at you like you were irreplaceable.

He had looked through you the whole time.

You don’t cry again until morning.

And when you do, it’s not soft. It’s gut-deep, shaking, angry crying. It’s the kind of heartbreak you didn’t expect, not this soon, not from someone who had held your hand like it meant something.

He texts once, the next day.

“I’m sorry. You deserve better than what I gave you.”

You stare at the words. You reread them. You can hear his voice saying them in your head. But you don’t respond. Because you do deserve better. You just wish you hadn’t had to figure that out this way.

A week later, the headlines break:

Billionaire's Sonand Commissioner's Daughter Back Together Again! Gotham’s Golden Couple Reunited?

You don’t even click the article.

But the image—her arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead resting against hers—it’s enough.

He never officially ended things with you. But the message is clear. So you pack up the last sweatshirt he left at your place, the book he lent you, the coffee mug he joked was his “claim to your kitchen.” You put it all in a box. You set it outside your door. You stare at it for much longer than you'd ever like yo admit, even two yourself.

You send one message. "Come get your things. That’s the last favor I’ll do for you."

You don’t wait to see if he replies. His number is blocked as soon as the message goes through.

You didn't expect to meet anyone for a long time. You weren't even looking.

But then there was someone.

He's quieter than Dick, a little awkward, but honest in a way that feels grounding. He listens. He asks questions. He doesn't flinch when you mention past wounds, and he never makes you feel like you’re a stand-in for someone else.

With him, things are simple. Peaceful. You don’t lie awake wondering if you’re being compared to a ghost.

When he touches you, it’s tender.

When he kisses you, it’s now.

Dick finds out in the most predictable way: he sees you at a café, holding his hand across the table, laughing.

You don’t even notice him at first. But he notices you, and his heart is practically crushed under a ton of concrete.

You see him that night, waiting by your building’s entrance. Leaning against the wall, the hood of his favorite blue jacket up, jaw tight. You stop walking when you see him.

“What are you doing here, Dick?”

His voice is quieter than you expected, like there's too much tension in the air for him to even utter the words he's thought of a thousand times over since the last time you both spoke. “I wanted to talk.”

You cross your arms, letting out a soft scoff. You're not about to fall for his bullshit again “We don’t really talk anymore, remember?”

He flinches as if he's actually been hurt by your words, but presses on without hesitation. “Is he your boyfriend?”

You blink, completely dumbfounded by the sudden question. Part of you is angry he knows so much about your private life. Another part of you almost wishes he'd do something about what he knows. “Wow. That’s what this is about? You’re keeping tabs on me now?”

“I just—” He drags a hand through his hair, the strands still smooth and black against his skin before letting out a curt sigh. “It’s weird. Seeing you with someone else.”

You step closer, enough for him to hear the edge in your voice. “You’re with Barbara.”

He hesitates, truly hesitates, for the first time since you met. “Yeah. But—”

“No.” Your voice cracks like ice, sending shivers right down Dick's spine. “You don’t get to ‘but’ me, Dick. You made your choice. I wasn’t even your first one.”

His gaze drops, blue eyes meeting the pavement faster than a cannon to the ground.

“I loved you,” your tone is caving, and you feel it down to your bones. Your knees are almost ready to give out on you like the night he left. “I gave you the best parts of me. And you used me to win someone else.”

“That’s not fair—”

“It’s exactly fair,” you snap, raising your voice far more than you ever have at Dick before. “And now that I’m finally happy—actually happy—you think you can just show up and claim a place in my life again?”

“I made a mistake,” he says, shoulders shrugging as if the admission was something so obvious to himself. “A huge one. I thought I needed her back, but what I needed was you. You grounded me. You made me feel real again.”

You stare at him for a long moment. His face is open. Honest. And for a heartbeat, you remember everything good between you.

But then you remember how quickly he gave it away. How quick he was to use your kindness and love to get Barbara back.

“You don’t get to realize that now,” you whisper, the sound nearly carried away by the ambiance of Gotham City around your apartment building. “Not when I’ve already picked up the pieces.”

He reaches for your hand, but you step back to put in the code to your apartment, which, by the way, has certainly changed since the last time you two spoke.

“Goodbye, Dick.”

Masterlist

[transboyswitchytales]

Pretty Girl I'll Make You Famous

Maya Mason x Artist Reader

part 1

You are Maya Mason's wife and the head artist of Continental Studio's Animation division. You both haven't told the team that you are married. But the key to Maya's lock hangs around your neck..and that might just be a give away.

My Masterlist of Works

Mommy Kink!/G!PMaya/Impregnation kink/Video Game Discussions

You’d been in this industry for a while now. And you knew how these meetings usually went. But as of April, you’d been promoted. You were now the head artist of Animation for Continental Studios. So far, you have been greenlit for working on a new franchise. They wanted to make a popular video game series into an animated show. So you were sitting on a Tuesday afternoon with your best storyboard artist, Jennifer Kale. And the usual bigwigs: Matt, Sal, Quinn, Patty, and Maya. Of course.

Plus Alice, you’d figured taking Alice Wu-Gulliver would be a good idea. Knowing she could talk shop and not get her feelings hurt in the harsh crowd. While Jen would remain silent and take notes, Alice would politely defuse the conversation. Jennifer definitely could stir the drama, which is why you’d instructed her to be as quiet as she could stand. Which you knew was a losing game.  

Alice and you had spent some time with the storyboard team and made some concept sketches. A few mock posters for God of War, Red Dead, Halo, and Resident Evil. They were currently propped up, and your, Jen, and Alice drawings were spread across the conference table. 

What should have taken two hours was now going on six because none of them could agree on a fucking thing. You desperately wanted a new iced coffee, but you sat next to Alice as the guys paced. Patty was groaning with her feet on the table. Maya was across from you, but she wasn’t looking at the mockup drawings. She was looking at you, and you both knew why. 

Alice was talking to Matt and Sal while you and Maya had a silent debate wordlessly across the table. 

“So you like the God of War idea? Is it the idea of making it into more of an anime style that you don’t like?” Alice asked honestly, it was a good question. Seeing as how they’d been going around and around like school children for hours. 

“I like the anime idea,” Matt says, but then he looks down at a drawing and winces. 

“You keep making that face, what is it?” Quinn asks, and you are thankful for the woman. 

“Is it too hentai?” Matt questions. 

“What is hentai?” Patty says, groaning and pulling her hair in frustration. 

“Oh god.” Maya rolled her eyes, not wanting to explain it. She always knew what was in. 

“Porn.” You say through gritted teeth, surprising Sal in that moment. You’d kept your demeanor neutral for most of the meeting. Besides the communication of micro expressions with Maya. 

“Specificlly asian porn, so you don’t want to make it look like anime? Y/n made mock-ups that aren’t that-” Alice says delicately. 

“Look, I don’t mean to offend you-” Matt says, looking at Alice, and you try not to roll your eyes like Maya. Of course the white guy was saying that to the asian artist in the fucking room. Jen chuckled but didn’t say a word. 

“Not taking it personal-” Alice says, cutting him off before he can actually say something offensive. You decide to stop this before it’s an HR complaint you have to fix, again. 

“Matt, if you don’t want it to look like any kind of anime, we can go back to a more claymation look. 2D vector is in because of Rick and Morty.” You offer, and Maya nods, agreeing with you. Because you two always shared thoughts. 

“3D, 2D, hand-drawn is cool again because of Cuphead,” Alice adds, and you see Maya’s face twitch, she didn’t like the goth artist. Mostly because Alice had asked you out before you were her boss, and you had to tell Maya what happened. You two didn’t do secrets. You’d walked in with hickies the next day that would put a hentai artist to shame. 

“The point is, if you don’t like the more anime style, we can scrap it. No questions asked, we put it in because Netflix and Castlevania, and a bunch of the other ones. Listen, they aren’t producing it, but they’re marketing and distributing it. We just want to make sure our department gives you options. Whatever you guys decide is fine; we haven’t picked a franchise yet. Maybe we start there?” You try to keep it constructive, but Matt is staring at the Resident Evil drawing you’d made of Lady Dimitrescu. The over nine-foot-tall, large-breasted, vampire villain. And you tried to keep your face from looking annoyed at him ignoring you for boobs. Maya eyed you and followed your line of vision to see what was bothering you now. 

“Oh god, Matt put the damn drawing down. Don’t get an errection from a fucking drawing ok?” Maya snapped at the exec, who blushed and put it down. 

“No wait, that’s a good point. Matt, what gave you a boner?” Patty said, and you closed your eyes. You’d known this was going to happen. You’d drawn it, for god's sake, Maya had seen you drawing it. It was around four am, and you had your drawing table at a tilt as you made sure her breasts were proportionate to the video game. Maya had been in a mood since she couldn’t sleep without you next to her after all these years. But she’d seen you drawing and teased you about your concentration, until she saw what you were drawing, and her jealousy flared. She realized you’d not been in bed with your wife and instead been drawing boobs. So Maya took her top off to show you real boobs and fucked you against the drawing to prove that a vampire had nothing on her. 

Looking up at your wife in the conference room, she arched an eyebrow, her lips pursing a bit. You couldn’t talk to her about this even silently right now. 

Turning back to Patty and trying to tune back into the debate. 

“It has sex appeal.” Sal and Patty were, of course, on the same page. Quinn was looking at the drawing now, and she seemed to be having a sexual awakening. Maybe she’d finally figured out she was gay. Both you and Maya had been taking bets on how long it would take. 

Alice was explaining ‘The Village’ to the group. You took off your leather jacket and took a hair tie to tie up your long hair. As you stood and riffled through paperwork. You realized people were staring at you. Not just Maya, that was normal, but you realized men were looking. You turned to see Matt and Sal staring at your cleavage as you wore a low-cut shirt that was Maya’s today. 

But then you realized Patty was staring too, and she hadn’t been queer since the 80’s so something was up. Turning to Alice, who was looking too you realized that they were looking at your necklace. 

“Is that a key?” Sal asked as he had no ability to hold a thought in. 

“What?” You said trying to catch up with what they were curious about. 

You look over at Maya, who is smirking. Your eyes go down to her lock, the one around her neck. And then you realize, usually your chain is longer, more hidden, but it had broken during sex this morning. So Maya had grabbed a simple chain from her jewelry box. Then you’d moved the key that went to her lock onto it. 

“Oh…” You look down, realizing it’s visible and dangling from your neck. As you are hunched over the table.

“What’s the key go to?” Matt chuckled, and then Patty eyed Maya. 

“What’s your last name? Everyone calls you the what is it?” Patty snaps her fingers trying to remember. Quinn nods, trying to remember too and Alice winces at the names. She knew what people called her boss. But Maya licked her lips. Jen tensened next to Alice. 

“Yeah, before you got the promotion, they called you Walt’s Monster or the Reckless Rembrandt, and the Deviant of Da Vinci,” Sal said, and your fingers twitched. You knew what they’d called you. You were cutthroat, and you weren’t embarrassed. Maya and you both weren’t afraid of being crazy. You’d once set fire to an animator's desk because he wouldn’t listen to you. And he kept drawing dicks ontop of one of the queer interns illustrations. You felt for the young queer artists, poor Billly. You’d given Billy the assholes job, and you’d made an HR complaint against yourself.

 One of many…Because you’d set said assholes desk on fire. You’d taught everyone quickly that bullying wouldn’t be tolerated at your animation house. 

But you were feared in the Studio, and you didn’t mind. Maya was feared even more, and you two were a perfect match. Matching each other's freak, but you also were safety for each other. 

Nothing was embarrassing or too much in your house. Neither of you ever judged the other. Not for weird spirits of anger or workaholic-like tendencies. You had rules in your house about bedtime and self-care. But Maya knew what it took for an illustrator to make it. And you understood she was the thing between a movie that made it and a movie that tanked. And that was a lot on anyone's shoulders. 

But you’d found a home in each other long ago. Before you’d even worked for Maya’s studio. 

“Let’s stay on topic.” You interjected through clenched jaw, and Maya just tilted her head at you. You’d both made it a point to not mention that you were married. You’d been worried that people with think that Maya favored your projects because you were her wife. But you didn’t try to hide it that much. Your last name was Mason. But no one called you that; everyone just knew the nicknames. 

Maya laughs because she’d planned this. You see that now. She’d been getting annoyed at your desire to not tell people you were married to each other. The two of you had argued about it last weekend. 

“We aren’t teenagers. Baby, I don’t like that they don’t know you're mine!”

Maya complained having just got off the phone with her assistant. It was very late. She was in her bra and boxers and you were in her pajama pants and sports bra. Both of you were seated in the theater room. A long L shaped sofa that you were laying on as she paced. Her acrylic nails were perfect as she threw her hands in the air. 

You had your large iPad on your lap with your Apple Pencil between your lips. You don’t know what the silly assistant had said, but it had pissed off your wife. Because you were drawing and tuning them out, and now the veins were popping from Maya’s forehead. 

You rubbed your temples and took the pencil out of your mouth to respond. 

“Maya, I am yours. We know that. I wear my wedding ring to work every day! I’m not exactly hiding you in a closet!” You knew you shouldn’t have met her anger with irritation. 

“Alice didn’t seem to notice your wedding ring.”

You roll your eyes at her and she growls.

“You know I shut that down. She’s also one of my best concept and sketch artists. I’m not going to-“

“Mentioning it to HR, protects you both!” 

You’d told her you weren’t going to HR because of a harmless, casual ask-out. Alice wasn’t a perv who couldn’t take no for an answer. You’d told her you were married, and she’d apologized. That was that. You’d know if you’d taken her to HR, that would mean Maya could pull her file and make life hell for the poor artist. She’d even blacklist her if Maya wanted.

“Baby-“

“We were talking about trying for a kid! What happens when you are pregnant? I’m not allowed to bring you lunch? Can’t have lunch with my wife?!”

You knew now that Maya was upset yes, but she was scared. Something that you didn’t see from your wife often. You try to ground her in facts. 

“Maya you bring me coffee and lunch now! Why would that change?” You say more patient then before. 

“So the studio thinks your husband got you pregnant? That you are straight?” Maya sneers and she looks at the large projector screen. You’d put on ‘The Visit’ which had been a fun pick. Maya had not seen it yet, but you didn’t miss a Kathryn Hahn film.

 It was the scene where the grandma is getting the young girl to crawl into the oven. Maya looks momentarily distracted but you knew better. She grabs the remote and pauses it. Which you take to mean she is actually enjoying the film enough to not want to miss it. 

“No one thinks I’m straight at work.” You tell her and she plops down onto the sofa next to you. She grabs your knees and pulls you into her lap. You are all too happy to sit on Maya’s lap. 

“I know you just got that promotion. I’m so proud of you darling. We aren’t on different levels now-” Maya tries to reason with you.

“Say that to my paycheck, Mama still makes a lot more than me.” You tease and smile and Maya doesn’t fall for the distraction. 

“You are my wife. I heard my assistant talking with Matt, who was asking Patty if you were single. No one is paying attention to your wedding ring, which is rude since I spent so long picking it. Now I’m tired of this. I want to have your pussy in my mouth in the office. And I want people to get scared when they’re rude to you, because they know your Mommy will skin them alive.” Maya smirks at her sinister thoughts, and you kiss her. She moans as your tongue seeks hers. You start to make out, and it does distract her this time. Maya’s need to possess you, be inside you, it’s just too much. 

You’d been an idiot to think that was the end of the conversation. Now looking at Maya with a gleam in her eye and her hair cascading down her gorgeous back that you’d scratched up this morning. You realize she’d planned all of this. 

“No I really don’t remember her last name!” Patty said annoyed, not one to be distracted like your wife by your breasts. 

“Boss?” Jennifer asks her eyebrows knit in confusion on what to do. Jennifer tended to defend you in the workplace. Which was sweet but not needed. Jen told the men in the office that if you’d been a guy, they wouldn’t have given you such nicknames or questioned your authority. They’d all see you for the talented artist and the sharp business mind you were. You’d fucking studied animation at CalArts. You’d undergrad at the Rhode Island School of Design. 

You were a triple threat with illustration. You could paint, animate, concept art, story board, block a fucking scene. You knew so much about special effects that Maya when you first started dating would call you and send you top secret scenes to make sure they didn’t look stupid. You’d helped her, free of charge of course. But somehow Maya always paid you for your work, in fancy dinners, in weekends away, in new art equipment, even in hours of her between your thighs. Maya always liked treating her favorite artist. 

“It’s fine Jen, my last name is Mason.” You don’t look at Maya but you turn to Patty and tilt your head much like your wife does. You roll your tongue over your front teeth. 

“Shit. Fucking..oh shit.” Sal says, and his eyes look at your wife. 

Patty starts to laugh so hard you think she might have broken. Quinn’s mind can’t seem to catch up to how you both are gay and married, and successful. 

“Oh my god.” Alice whispers looking down at her lap as if she’s about to totally be fired. 

“It’s fine Alice.” You whisper to her and she looks like she doesn’t believe you for a second. So Jen pats her shoulder to comfort the poor artist. Jen wasn’t shocked as she’d worked for you before.

“Woah that’s crazy coincidence! Unless, are you guys like related though, like cousins?” Matt says over Pattys laughter. And Sal looks like he’s gonna combust at Matt’s dumb ass. 

“Would she be wearing the key to Maya’s lock if they were cousins Mathew? It’s a fucking kinky thing idiot.” Sal whisper screams at him. You force a smile at the head of the studio. 

“Oh my god.” Matt’s mind is starting to catch up and it’s hilarious. Meanwhile Maya just looks like the king of the table. She’s smiling broadly like she’s won the lotto. She’s made everyone uncomfortable and the cat is out of the bag. 

Patty finally stands up to stop laughing as she goes over to find the booze and she pours three whiskeys. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be-” Quinn says not liking that Patty was drinking in a meeting. But Patty holds the tops of the three glasses pinching them to carry them and the bottle. She pushes one towards Matt. But Sal takes it instead and downs it. Then she walks over to Maya. 

“Mozel Tov.” She says and hands Maya a drink. Maya clicks her glass against Patty’s and the two down their drinks. 

“Boss?” Jennifer asks again unsure of how to defend you. You’d not needed her defending. But you’d hired Jen when she was like twenty two out of art school. And she’d followed you to the studio. So you knew Kale was ready to walk out if you were. 

“Relax Kale, no one’s in trouble. And we are making the Resident Evil and God of War animated films. Matt they’re brilliant and my wife will need a full budget. She’s already got the story board mostly complete but I’m sure Maximoff got a script already, right Babe?” Maya looks at you now and you roll your eyes and nod. Wanda had been your friend for a long time and you two had already been working on stories. The two of you could make anything fantastic together. 

“Sounds good to me Matt.” Patty agrees and refills Maya and her own glass. 

“So vampires?” Sal asks and Matt is still reeling, his eyes are huge and you don’t know if he can even hear the room anymore. You look over at Alice but she’s gawking at Maya with so much fear. So you turn to Jen to back you and she doesn’t need to be told twice. 

“Vampires are part of it, but not all of it. It’s supernatural beings meets Daddy Daughter day. Think The Last of Us kind of a thing.” Jen tells the team and you wish you’d let her talk instead of Alice now. She’d been solid at pitching ideas in the animators room. But she’d not liked white dudes in power, and you couldn’t blame her.

“God of War should be a different type of animation. So people don’t think we’re just re-doing the last thing.” Quinn says and Maya looks ready to tell her she’s an idiot. 

“We could do the anime style for Resident Evil, because the sex appeal. Then we’ll make more of a Marvel comic look for God of War. Lots of blood in both but different amount of visual carnage.” You instruct. 

“I like it, like Kill Bill animation scene?” Matt says finally looking at you. 

“Exactly.” You agree with him, and he smiles. Patty leans down to pour more alcohol into his and Sal’s cup. Like they’d earned it this time. Sal let’s Matt drink this time. 

“So manga style for Resident Evil and God of War get’s comic book. Do we lean more towards Deadpool type of humor?” Jen asks and she’s not looking at the room but writing things down. 

“No, it’s not gonna sell as well. Keep the Last of Us idea for both. Make it heartfelt but gory and marketable.” Maya says and she sips at her drink. 

“Does Hr?” Quinn starts asking Maya who holds up her hand. 

“We’re married, and I didn’t hire my girl. The Studio knew the Deviant of Da Vinci was the best fit. I didn’t do a thing. So there will be no complaints or silly favoritism.”

It was a half-truth, Maya was always doing something behind the scenes. But your portfolio got you the job. As for the raise and promotion you weren’t a hundred percent sure she didn’t do something. But Maya kept talking firmly with the class. 

“Mrs. Mason got here because she’s the best. My wife also saved our last animated film. Which I was able to market and profit the studio two billion dollars. So does anyone want to complain?” Maya asked and the look in her eyes was enough to make the grown men feel scared. 

“Let’s just focus on the films. I’ll have Wanda send over her script for Resident Evil. I’ve got Romanoff and Barton ready to write for God of War. Does anyone have anyone else they want to throw in the ring?” You ask and Patty drinks before shaking her head in surprise. 

“You got Wanda Inc and R&B Productions in your back pocket? Matt your head animator needs a fucking raise. Besides if you piss her of she’ll set the place on fire and then Maya will kill you with her bare hands. Da Vinci, honey, you just email me when you've got them all lined up. I’ll come over and produce. Not that it seems like you need any help. We always knew whoever Maya ended up with would be a firecracker.”

“More like a pitbull.” Quinn murmured and you turned and glared at her. She seems a bit scared of you and her eyes went down to her notes. 

“Natasha won’t work with us.” Sal said and he took the glass from Matt and drank the last of his whiskey. 

“Why not?” Patty angrily snapped at him.

“Because someone tried to hit on her at a Cat Blanchet party and now she thinks our studio is the plague.” Matt said staring at Sal and everyone knew exactly what happened. 

“She’ll work with me. Just keep Sal out of the studio when she’s on my side of the lot.” You said confidently and Maya grinned at you. She’d been telling you that the Animation building was ‘yours.’ And now in front of Matt you were owning it. And she couldn’t be more proud. 

“We can do that.” Matt said and he grabbed the Resident Evil drawing you’d done of Ethan Winters. “Do we really want him to be white?”

This made another four hours of discussion over voice actors. 

_________________

When the meeting was finally over, Matt offered to take everyone out to dinner. You turned to Maya, who didn’t look like she felt anyway about it. But you two spoke a different language for each other. So when you finished your silent discussion, you turned to Matt.

“Sorry Mr. Remick, I need to start illustrations for the first teaser-” He shook his head at you not taking no for an answer.

All of you were walking out of the conference room and you cursed yourself for being friendly. 

“It’s Matt! And no way, we’ve never gone drinking together! And with your promotion we gotta celebrate! Right Patty!”  He said as you guys walked out the front door in a group. Jen shook her head and you touched her shoulder to bring her to the side. Jen had the big mock ups under her arm and she’d have to bring them back to work tomorrow. 

“Bye girl, I’m going the fuck home,” Jen said as Patty, Sal, and Matt bickered about restaurants. 

“See you tomorrow. Drive safe, Kale.” You tell her, and she smiles at you.

“Good job today Boss. Two feature films, our old boss could never have gotten them to do one. Continental is about to get rocked by it’s illustrators!” Jennifer shouts at you before she crosses the studio to her side of the parkinglot. Alice waits until Jen is away to ask you something.

“Do I still have a job?”

“Oh my god Alice, yes. I can’t do these films without you-”

“Yeah you could, you could totally Miyazaki the shit out of this. But is Maya gonna let me stay?” Alice asks just as you feel your wife coming over to you. Her hand grabs your ass and you know she’s not a fan of you alone with your flirty animator. So her possessive hand holds your right asscheek to remind everyone on the lot what happens in your bedroom.

“Yes, you have a job. Do not worry. Go get some rest. Early start tomorrow with Wanda, ok?” You tell her and she smiles more reassured and eyes Maya before waving goodbye to you both and running after Jen. You hoped the two of them would get drunk and date each other already.

“You sure know how to manage your minions, Baby,” Maya whispers before her body is flush with yours. One hand coming around your hips. You are holding the file with all the drawings from today. You ignored her compliment and closed your eyes, letting your head fall back onto her shoulder. Her long, dark hair tickling your ear. Before you straightened back up remembering what the three of them were talking about behind you. Maya made a noise of irritation at you moving away from her shoulder. She liked how cuddly you were, she demanded PDA. And now you had no reason not to touch each other at work. 

But you broke her pout with your own. 

“Please tell me we aren’t going to get drinks with Matt and the gang.” You didn’t turn to look at her as she kissed behind your ear. You felt the last traces of her lipstick against your skin. 

“I already told you my thoughts, and you read me better than anyone.” She teases and you knew from before she didn’t want to hang out with them tonight. Maya usually bitched about Matt and Sal after work for twenty minutes each night before she sighed and said ‘ok enough of them, give Mama a kiss’ and you guys continued your night without their names. 

“Ok, we settled on a nightclub!” Matt says coming over to you both. You try to hold your grimace but Maya’s hand on your ass squeezes and you know she is aware of your displeasure. The two of you tolerated clubs but neither of you were in your twenties anymore. Clubs weren’t so much fun when you had things like responsibilities and mortgages. 

“I’m taking my wife home Matt. You guys have fun.” Maya says and it’s stern and leaves no room for arguing but Quinn comes around with her iphone. And she’s typing and looking up to Sal. 

“We have to go! We all have to go! It’s bonding!” She squeals, and you take a half step back towards Maya’s side, and she knows what that means. You feel anxious, and it’s her job to get you out. She’d appointed herself your protector in all things. 

“We are leaving, see ya tomorrow!” Maya turns you around and she flips her long hair over her shoulder. 

“We need to go by your office and get your stuff?” You ask Maya and she shakes her head. She pulled the keys to her car out of her pocket. 

“Nah, Baby, it can all wait until tomorrow. Straight home or do you wanna get Indian on the way?” She asked, and your mood shifted and you beamed at her. Maya always knew what to say. 

“Indian, you’ll even let me get it super spicy?”

“Whatever my little artist wants, she gets.” Maya teased and you rolled your eyes at her. But she came around to the front of the executive's lot, where she had one of the best parking spots. 

Opening the passenger side you threw your art in the back like it didn’t matter, and her eyebrows furrowed. But Maya closed the car door. You let your head lean back against the sports car's headrest. Maya has a few cars, but you never cared much about vehicles. But she’s got a big Hummer, a SUV, and this little red Bugatti Chiron. 

It’s got a gorgeous interior and it costs 3.5 million. You had been shocked when she’d brought it home. You both usually talked about big purchases. 

But that was when Maya had been promoted and made the big bucks. So you’d let her celebrate and she’d fucked you inside and on the hood to christen it. 

You close your eyes and try to box breathe through the anxiety, and Maya opens her side and she goes over to your thrown art. You hear papers moving, and you open one eye, confused. But Maya is collecting all of you and your team's drawings and putting them back into the folder carefully. 

“What are you doing?” You finally ask and she’s put the drawing on the back seat now that they weren’t wrecked all over. “Were you mad I made a mess in your pretty car?” You tease. 

She snorts at you.

“No, I just don’t like the idea that my wife’s drawings are crumpled in a pile like they aren’t stunning. Like she didn’t spend a week preparing for that meeting.”

“Maya..” You say like she’s the sweetest, and her face softens, and she leans over and pecks your lips.  

“Your art matters to me.”

“You mean because it’s gonna make you a bunch of money and you can buy a Bugatti in blue this time?”

Now Maya throws her head back and laughs. 

“No, but that’s not untrue. I cared about your art long before it made Mama any money baby. You have more talent in your pinky finger than every soul combined in this whole lot.” She says starting her car like it’s just a fact she says everyday and no big deal. You grab her strong bicep and she turns to you. 

“You actually believe that?”

“Of course I do. And you should too if you know what’s good for you.” Your wife says, and then the Bugatti is revved and she burns rubber as she speeds off the lot. 

_______

After you put the order in on your phone, the two of you picked up dinner. You are stuck in traffic now with everyone else in LA. And you groan before grabbing your phone and start checking work emails. Maya has at one point pulled her sunglasses on, and she’s looking at you and not at the road. 

You know Maya, you’d been married for thirteen years now going on fourteen and you’d both never stopped fucking. So you didn’t need to see her eyes, or an inch of her face to know what she was thinking. 

“Whatever your cock wants right now it’s gonna have to wait until we get home.” You say as you write an email back to Natasha about how the meeting went and what the story elements she wants to incorporate. 

It’s not the first film you're going to work on. You figured you’d break your team in half, one side for Jen and one for Alice. You’d have Jen focus on God of War because the comic was more her speed. Alice obviously like you, enjoyed more supernatural animes, and she’d rather work on Resident Evil. Also, Alice played more video games in general so she’d be good on both. So maybe you should need to make her go on both projects and then mayb-

“Darling, stop it.” You looked up to see you were still sitting in traffic, you turned to Maya who had lifted up her sunglasses and was looking at you like she’d caught you doing something naughty. 

“What? Is there something on my face? Is it pen again, and you are just now telling me?” You wipe at your nose. You always had pencil or charcoal on your nose. You’d been worse with paint during college. Maya always found it adorable and you knew sometimes she didn’t even tell you, just liked to watch you. 

“No, you don’t have anything on your face. You are ignoring your wife though. You are sitting there thinking of how you want to divy up your team. Your answering emails and I need your full attention.”

“You aren’t getting head while we are on the 405 again. You are going to wait until we get home and then you can fuck my throat until the cows come home.” You tell her putting your phone down.

“That’s a visual, what a dirty girl I stole. No, I’m talking about how I’ve been talking to you for the past six minutes and you haven’t listened to a word of it! If we were just now dating I’d be offended. But since we’re married, I know where you sleep. I’ll just get my revenge when you least expect it.” She smirks, showing her teeth now. 

“Maya Mason, I apologize for being such a bad wife. What were you wanting to talk about?”

“This week, I was thinking we should have you stop taking birth control. I can call tomorrow and get you in with your OBGYN. I’ll have my assistant clear whatever day you want this week, and we’ll go together. That’s what I was talking about.” Maya wiggled her eyebrows, and it had the effect she wanted as you laughed. But then you did what she didn’t want and you shook your head. And she groaned in clear upset. 

“My love, we talked about this. I just got promoted, we need to wait a few years. Let me make a few billion for the studio and have job security-”

“You already have job security because I’ll never let them get rid of you!” Maya says offended that you thought she’d let something so stupid happen at her studio. To you of all people!

“And then once everything's running smoothly, we will take the IUD out. I promise, then you can get me pregnant as many times as you want.” You say, and you see Maya is annoyed and also delighted all at the same time. Before she speaks again. 

“Ok, first off, nothing in the studio will ever run smoothly. That’s just showbiz, my girl. Secondly, you are saying I get to pick now how many kids we have?”

“We can compromise, I get to say when and you get to say how many, how about that?” You knew Maya was a business girl down to her bones, and she thought for a minute. 

“I am gonna draw up a contract tonight.” 

You laugh at her in shock. Your eyebrows went high up your forehead.

“Will this be as legally binding as the key and lock situation we have?” You tease and Maya bites her lip and you can see she’s excited. 

“You are going to regret your terms now, baby girl.”

“Oh my god Maya how many do you want!”

“I’m thinking eight.”

“NO WAY! YOU want my vagina to be as congestied as the 405! Your dick will never be snug inside me again! It’ll be a hot dog in a hallway situation!”

“You are unbelievably tight already, and I’m not worried about it. I want eight kids running around who look like you and swear like me. You already said I could have as many as I want, you fucking blew it superstar. I gotta teach you how to negotiate again.” Maya laughs, and the traffic is moving now. 

“Is it too late to get a divorce?” You tease, but you see Maya’s lip twitch. She didn’t like joking about divorce and you knew that. She’d never been divorced, never had kids, and she never wanted either. Not until she’d met you. 

“Baby.” She said and you slide over and kiss her jaw. 

“Sorry Mommy. That wasn’t very nice. Can I make it up to you?” You ask and your hand is on her thigh. It moves up her tight pants and you don’t have to travel far to feel her cock twitch under your hand. 

“You know I don’t like it when you say the D word.” Maya whispers and you know she’s not happy. 

“You know I’d never. Let me make it up to you? Let me taste you?” You say and you kiss the side of her mouth and you feel her cock harden under your touch. Blood pumping to her shaft and out of her head. And you have Maya Mason wrapped around your finger. You have the key to her heart. 

To be continued..

[wordsofwhimsy]

❀ꗥ～𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 ～ꗥ❀

❀ꗥ～ Part Six ～ꗥ❀

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x Southern Belle!Reader

Warnings: Eh, a brief fight scene, nothing crazy

Tags: Fluff, slice-of-life, Meemaw with a gun

Word Count: 2,115

Synopsis: Mark swears he’s living in an old southern romance and what’s better – you and he are the stars. The only problem: he’s still hiding his hero identity. Things come to a head however when a gaggle of alien villains decide to take their fight to YOUR street.

a/n: I. LOVE. THEM. like, feral about it!!! grrrr

read part five ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

Mark wasn’t sure when exactly his life turned into a dream sequence, but he wasn’t asking questions.

Maybe it was the way you always looped your arm through his when you walked together—like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you’d been holding onto him your whole life and just picked up where you left off. Maybe it was the way you leaned into his side when you laughed, or how you still packed him little Tupperwares of cornbread like he might forget to eat if you didn’t.

Whatever it was, Mark was blissfully, absurdly, unapologetically in love.

He knew it the first time he saw you crouched in the chicken coop behind your Meemaw’s house, apron tied around your waist and boots sunk ankle-deep in straw, cooing at a hen like it was a baby while expertly plucking eggs into a basket. He definitely knew it when he watched you haul a bale of hay over your shoulder without breaking a sweat, your hair tied up in a red bandana and your smile radiant under the morning sun like some kind of farm goddess.

And he absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, knew it when you offered him a peach scone one Saturday morning and said, “Mornin’, sugar,” like you didn’t just casually own his entire heart.

Mark found himself spending more and more time out at your house. Sometimes you studied together on the porch swing, your notes color-coded and neat as a pin. Sometimes you roped him into helping with chores—well, “helping” was a generous term, given that you moved like you’d been born doing this and he nearly broke a toe tripping over a goat.

He loved every second of it.

What he didn’t love was lying to you.

It wasn’t even really lying—just… strategic omission. You didn’t know the full truth. That the bruise on his jaw wasn’t from gym class or a bad fall. That the occasional limp, the mysterious cuts, the fact that he sometimes disappeared for a few hours with no explanation—all of that was part of a much bigger picture.

A picture with a mask. And a secret name. And a whole lot of responsibility he couldn’t exactly hand off.

He hadn’t told you. Not because he didn’t trust you—God, he trusted you more than anyone—but because the idea of looking you in the eye and saying, “Hey, by the way, I sometimes sneak out and fight crime in a spandex suit” sounded like the fastest way to lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Which is why, when you reached up one lazy Sunday afternoon and brushed your thumb gently over the bruise just below his collarbone, he panicked.

“Oh, sugar…” Your brows furrowed. “What happened here?”

Mark froze.

Shit.

“Oh, uh—nothing,” he said, way too fast. “Just… gym. Took a bad hit in dodgeball. You know how it is.”

You tilted your head, not buying it. “Since when do y’all play full-contact dodgeball?”

He laughed—awkward. “It’s a new thing. Experimental. Real cutting edge.”

“Uh huh.”

You didn’t press, but your touch lingered just a second longer than usual. Soft. Concerned. And it made something twist hard in Mark’s chest.

Because you were smart. You were always watching. And eventually, he knew… he’d have to tell you everything.

But not yet.

Not today.

Today, he leaned down and kissed your forehead instead, whispering something about being more careful next time, and you smiled like that was good enough.

He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up.

But he’d sure as hell try—for as long as you’d let him.

—

The sun was low in the sky, casting golden streaks across the dirt road as you wandered with your parasol tilted just so, the lace edges catching the light like halos. The crickets were chirpin’, and the breeze carried the smell of cut grass and peach blossoms.

You were mid-hum—some old Patsy Cline tune, real soft—when a BOOM cracked through the air like thunder straight from the pits of hell.

You barely had time to scream before something—a man? a thing?—came crashing down the street, tearing a rut through the dirt and flipping a pickup truck like it was a toy. You froze. Heart jackhammering. The only danger you were used to back home was an ornery possum or the occasional fistfight at Uncle Bobby’s bar on Saturday night.

This? This was not that.

You ducked instinctively behind a mailbox post as more figures landed in the road, all snarling and glowing eyes and God-fearing chaos. You were halfway to panic when a blur of blue and yellow zipped in front of you like a comet, knocking one of the villains clean into a tree.

“Stay down!” the hero barked—voice strained, deep, familiar.

The blue and yellow clad savior hit the first villain like a freight train, knocking him sky-high and flipping the second one with a bone-rattling crunch. You peeked out from behind the small post, jaw slack, parasol hanging limp at your side.

Another hit. Another flash. And just like that, they were all down.

The wind settled. Dust floated in the golden light.

He turned, breathing hard, blood at the corner of his mouth.

“You okay, miss?”

His voice.

That voice you’d heard whispering to you in the kitchen just this morning. The voice that called you darlin’ when he thought no one could hear.

Your breath caught. Your spine straightened. And you started walking.

The hero froze.

Just—froze.

You stepped right up to him, boots crunching softly in the dirt, and stopped a foot away. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t move.

You reached up—real gentle—and tugged the mask up past his eyes and into his hairline.

And there he was.

Messy hair. Busted lip. Brown eyes wide and terrified like you’d just caught him sneaking in past curfew.

“...I knew it,” you whispered. “You dummy.”

Mark opened his mouth.

You stared at him. Blinked again. And then just let out a stunned little laugh.

“I thought you were in, like… some underground fight club or somethin’.”

“…What?”

You hit his arm—not hard. “I dunno! You kept showin’ up with bruises, and I figured maybe you were just real bad at MMA and too proud to tap out.” You shook your head, eyes flicking down to his suit then back to his bloodied face. “You’re some kinda crime fightin’ Superman?! And you didn’t tell me?”

Mark blinked once. Twice.

And then—despite the split lip, despite the scuff on his cheek, despite the sheer chaos around him—he smirked.

A slow, crooked little thing that made your stomach flip and your glare deepen.

“You think I’m Superman?” he said, all faux-innocent, voice dropping an octave like he hadn’t just body-slammed someone into a tree stump. “That’s… kinda hot.”

Your mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

He gave a weak shrug, clearly pleased with himself. “I mean, I’m not that good…”

You stepped closer, brows raised, voice deadpan. “Markus.”

“Yeah?”

“I just watched you destroy a stop sign with a man’s body.”

“Okay, in my defense—he was being very rude.”

You let out a long breath through your nose. “I swear to God, I should’ve known. Nobody that pretty gets bruises that often without bein’ into somethin’ stupid.”

Mark grinned—teeth bloody, smile blinding. “So you do think I’m pretty.”

You just stared at him, then muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute,” and turned on your heel, parasol bouncing at your side as you marched back home.

Mark stumbled after you, still grinning. “So that’s a yes on Superman?”

“You keep talkin’ and I’m tellin’ Meemaw.”

“...Right. Shutting up.”

You crossed your arms, parasol still dangling from your wrist like the world wasn’t upside down. “You do realize you knocked over Mr. Fenley’s pecan tree, right?”

Mark groaned. “Aw, man. He loves that tree…”

—

You were halfway up the porch steps, dragging Mark behind you like a misbehaving child at Sunday school, when the screen door slammed open with a bang that nearly knocked your parasol out of your hand.

And there she was.

Meemaw.

Hair up in curlers, apron dusted in flour, house slippers on like battle armor—and a .22 rifle resting casually in the crook of her arm like it was just another casserole dish.

Her eyes swept over the wrecked road, the unconscious villains scattered across the front lawn like poorly placed yard decorations, then landed squarely on Mark.

She squinted.

Then, in a voice loud enough to rattle your molars: “What in the HELL happened out here?”

Mark froze behind you, spine stiffening like he was back in math class and forgot his homework.

You cleared your throat, dusting gravel off your skirt like this was just any ol’ day. “Well, Meemaw… turns out Mark’s been gettin’ those bruises not from football or gym class like he claimed—” you shot him a look, “—but from throwin’ hands with actual monsters.”

Mark shifted behind you, muttering, “Technically it was aliens this time…”

You held up a hand without looking at him. “Hush. I’m talkin’.”

Then back to Meemaw, deadpan: “Apparently my boyfriend’s some kinda superhero. Like the real kind. Tights, punches, midair backflips—the whole shebang.”

Meemaw paused for just a beat before she spoke. “Of course he is. And here I thought y’all were sneakin’ off to kiss behind the barn.”

Mark lifted one hand. “Hi, ma’am.”

She didn’t blink. “Boy, you just threw a grown man into my begonias.”

“…Sorry.”

Meemaw exhaled slowly through her nose. “You’d best be explainin’ everything before my pecan pie cools. And you—” she pointed at you without looking, “—bring the peroxide.”

He whispered, “Is she gonna shoot me?”

You sighed, linking your arm with his as you tugged him inside.

“Only if you lie again, sugar.”

Later that night…

“You sure this is safe?” Mark asked, eyeing the mason jar in your hand like it might sprout legs and bite him.

You knelt in front of him on a little woven mat, hair pulled back, sleeves rolled up, utterly unfazed.

“It’s somethin’ my great-auntie used to swear by,” you said, unscrewing the lid. “Vinegar, turpentine, cayenne pepper, honey, and a dash of prayer.”

Mark’s eyes went wide. “...That sounds like it belongs on barbecue.”

“Don’t sass the remedy, sugar.” You dipped a rag in the mix, wrung it out, and without warning, pressed it gently to the cut on his ribs.

“HOLY—” he hissed, nearly levitating off the tub.

“Don’t move,” you warned, steady as a surgeon. “It’s supposed to burn. That means it’s workin’.”

“It means I’m dying,” he wheezed. “Why does it smell like a fire hazard?”

You just smiled sweet as pie. “Old southern secret. Been usin’ it since before electricity.”

He groaned, head falling back. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“If I was tryin’ to kill you, baby, you’d already be dead.” You paused, then leaned forward and kissed the spot you just treated—soft and slow. “There. Better?”

He blinked. Breath caught. “...Yeah. Much better.”

You rested your hand against his jaw, thumb brushing over the bruise near his cheekbone. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Just the low buzz of cicadas outside and the faint clink of glass as you set the jar aside.

“I was scared,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “To tell you. I thought... if you knew what… I do… you'd leave.”

Your gaze softened, but you didn’t pull away. “Mark.”

He looked down.

You took his face in both hands, lifting it gently until he met your eyes. “If you think I’m lettin’ go of a man who can lift a tractor and still gets shy when I kiss his cheek, well then honey, I’ve got an ocean front property in Kentucky to sell you.”

Mark let out a breath, lips parting like he might laugh—might cry—but before he could say anything, you gave him a look. One brow lifted, the hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Then you tapped a finger gently against your mouth. Once. An expression on your face that said, I’m waiting.

He didn’t hesitate. Leaning in to kiss you—slow, reverent—like you were the only real thing left in the world.

When you pulled back, he was breathless.

“...I love you,” he whispered.

You smiled, soft and sure, and cupped his cheek in your hand.

“Oh, honey,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again—gentle, sweet, and just a little smug. “You just figurin’ that out?”

read part seven ❀ꗥ～Here! ～ꗥ❀

[cherie-doll]

How do you think the cod guys (you date and work together) would react and treat you if you had gotten unwell, they noticed and then you were diagnosed with a auto immune disease? Like lupus, various auto immune arthritis conditions(rheumatoid, psoriatic) , chroins or w/e?

How would they be able to handle your new weakened self?

This is a pretty self indulgent request and I just want to know if they'd still love me.

Ps. I love the art you use.

“it’s never lupus”

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: You Find Out You're Sick

=͟͟͞♡ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

He had noticed your how your performance which was usually average or above average suddenly started declining, he was more worried than upset so he decided to talk you into taking some time off and visiting the medic

He's saying this not only as your superior but also as your s/o, even if it was just something small (or so you both assumed) he would still want you to take care of yourself, even if he finds himself very busy he would come check up on you every now and then

That was until the doctors told you it was something far more serious that was affecting your body and would affect how you did things from now on

While it may have discouraged you, Price always made time for you, especially since he wanted to comfort you best he could, he wouldn't treat you less nor be too overprotective, he knows how capable you still are

Knowing what would affect you would be long-term, he didn't want you to let that get in the way of living your best life, he still comes around as much as he can to remind you how much he loves you still

Ghost

You said you were doing fine, but he knew that you had let it get to you, deep on the inside you were a little hurt, sometimes it became hard to deal with the medications and treatments knowing it was all for nothing if it meant being like this for the rest of your life

Simon would have some trouble knowing just how much to let his worry for you show, he just wants you to be healthy and happy, so it might become a little overbearing when he's always telling you to take your meds, or holds you back from being a little reckless

You're not child, you remind him, but he prefers being your silent reminder rather than verbally expressing it

In a way he could understand the part about having to deal with this lifelong, some things no matter how hard you tried to cover or search for a cure just couldn't be completely buried, so he tried his best to help you manage it in his quiet way

Soap

It had taken a long time before you were diagnosed, many tests and doctors appointments later you were finally told what had been happening to your body

It had felt like a betrayal, you had taken care of it well, you would frequently join Johnny on his morning runs (when he managed to get up early) and even train with him to improve, he had been recently saying how much better you had gotten at working out

But he had also seen those small changes in you; mostly how you could no longer ignore "small" pains that seemed to bother you constantly, he too had worried when not even the doctor could give you a clear answer

The feelings of anxiety and frustration had nearly been too much for you, and despite you focusing on mostly yourself now, he never made you feel bad for it, he was there at your side, not resenting you for suddenly feeling unable to spend time with him

If you preferred to sit and do some other activity rather than go out, he would do what suited you better

Gaz

He's always been attentive to all your needs; emotional and physical, so no doubt it was due to his nagging that you went to the doctor in time to get treated, you didn't have to be confused about these new symptoms that had begun to interfere in your daily life

You hated how unpredictable your illness could be, Kyle taught you to be patient with your body, to not expect too much out of it, he took care of you better than if you were alone

If you've had to adjust your diet and lifestyle, he would greatly help with it, before you would carelessly prepare your meals just to have something to eat, and it's become increasingly hard to keep track of small things like your meals

He's made all the necessary adjustments to help you manage, even if you think it's a little annoying at times how much you have to care now, he's able to still cradle your face in his hands and give you reassurance that you'll learn to live with it

He doesn't let you wallow in your sadness too much either, your thoughts could easily make you look at life grimly, but he's constantly showing you ways to still find joy in the little things, and with time your attitude improves

Roach

If it weren't for him laying it so heavy on you going to the doctor then you probably wouldn't have gone yourself, you kept dismissing those symptoms and when you got back the diagnosis he was probably more worried than you were

Frankly, you were scared, if you had never gone through so much all at once then it was difficult for you to deal with all this, but he wouldn't leave you not even when you felt like this was something you had to deal with yourself

He did all he could to keep you cheerful and content, he wasn't just about to let you deal with it by yourself, especially since you could confide in him and let him know how you felt

There had always been a quiet and mutual understanding between you two, so it was easy for you to lean on him when things were hard, even if you felt overwhelmed by all the symptoms and new feelings that came with this disease

He wasn't only your partner but a friend too

Alejandro

Feel like he'd be tempted to put things aside to assist you when you really needed him, perhaps he wouldn't be able to do much to keep you from experiencing physical pain or complications, but he would do whatever he could in his reach to make you feel just as loved if not even more than before

On some days even small tasks and chores like getting up, starting your day, making something to eat or even remembering to take medication to alleviate the pain is hard for you, he would be by your side no matter what

He would want you to focus solely on yourself, and even when you expressed how terrible you felt for having to rely on him so much, he'd tell you a million different ways how he doesn't mind it, he'd do anything for you

He encourages you to re-evaluate your priorities; your number one job right now is to only worry about yourself, he'll take care of the rest

Rudy

My boy Rodolfo was worried sick for you, he noticed you were missing more days and despite him not being the one you told everything to, he still felt a need to find out what had been going on, you were his s/o after all

When he found out about the frequent visits to doctors to try and pinpoint what the problem was, he felt a little disappointed you didn't come to him but he hid it away not wanting you to feel like it was another burden to carry, you were far busier worrying about your health

He did everything he could to help you, offered to accompany you to doctor's appointments and so on until you got a diagnosis back, he's not entirely sure how to navigate this but he knew the one thing you would need was support

Sometimes you get frustrated not being able to do certain things or having to refrain for your health, but thanks to Rodolfo, your resentment and bitter feelings go away when he's around

His acts of service have served to prove how much he cares for you, you're always in the back of his mind not only when he's with you but also when he's out alone; he makes you feel loved even during tough times

Phillip Graves

You were worried what his reaction would be, you dreaded telling him because he was the type to immediately tell you to rest even if you got a cold or were feeling too hot, you didn't doubt his love for you, because he would do anything for you

Which in a way worried you, he was so busy with his new tasks that maybe he wouldn't have time for you in your newfound condition, there were always a hundred other people that needed his attention before you, or so you thought

But he listened quietly, and with care made sure that you were getting the rest that your body needed, and don't dare think to neglect yourself even if you think your disease isn't so severe

Perhaps there may be tense moments where you became fed up with it all; with the way some people treated you, how doctors treated you, how you viewed yourself.. but he was always able to sneak in a kiss on the cheek or some other small but significant way to make you smile at his actions

There was just no way you could not keep your face from showing happiness when you saw him, he had always had that effect on you and even now it overshadowed your negative thoughts

Makarov

Usually this man keeps tabs on you even if he isn't physically there with you at the moment, but he hadn't been there to notice your deteriorating health, or how you now had to take medicine when you had flare-ups, etc..

Either way word reach him and he suddenly came back, it felt strange having him give you a look over, his eyes observing you and he noticed how you had changed small, minor details in your routine

You felt weird having him perched like a hawk watching you, but in his eyes he was just doing what he could to care for you, he no longer wanted you to overwork yourself like you often did, against your protests he put his foot down and would not allow you to do anything unless he has deemed it safe beforehand

Even if you faked annoyance it was sort of heartwarming seeing him secretly care so much, you know he's never casual about anything and he wouldn't simply dismiss something like this

Keegan

He didn't have to go around finding things out because you were upfront about it with him, you had recently begun complaining of some pain in your muscles, at first you had shrugged it off, thinking it was from your last mission, it wasn't unusual to experience this

But it persisted, so much that you decided to go visit the medic on base along with Keegan, and while he came out fine, you had to stay back longer until a doctor was able to look at you

You assumed he had gone back to his barracks, but he had stayed waiting outside hoping it wasn't anything serious, you were surprised to walk out and meet his eyes when he raised his head

He can tell by the look on your face when you're in pain or something is bothering you, he can also tell when you're not in the mood to be open about it and he complies, but that won't stop him from caring for you

König

He was more worried than you were, and rightfully so, it was something new to him, he hadn't gone through this himself so he was afraid of how little he knew, especially since it was happening to the person he thought of so dearly

He tried to hide his anxiety, but never had be been so worried, you tried your best to assure him that it wasn't as bad as he thought, even if doctors couldn't cure it, there was no reason why he should be losing sleep, you would still live an average life

To give some sense of relief to König, you made changes and tried your best to adapt even when it became increasingly difficult at times, you knew the man beside you would always be there and it gave you some comfort to have someone to share your problems with

His company helped you cope better than any other treatment, maybe it was his big and imposing figure that made you think of him as your gentle guardian, he would watch over you and you never doubted his love

Horangi

It was difficult at first and you really had thought you would be stagnant at this point in life, you feared not being able to advance or go anywhere, you still had so many goals and dreams you would like to reach, but him seeing you struggle made his heart clench

He wanted to accommodate you best he could, he also didn't want to make the mistake of not being informed and he didn't want you feeling alone if he couldn't understand

He would accompany you to the pharmacy, the doctor and any other place where you might need his help, he knew you were plenty capable but if walking beside you helped you feel a little more secure in your footing, then he would accompany you everywhere

And if at any point the stress became too much, he gently reminded you that he didn't mind supporting you, you weren't a burden at all, it would be his pleasure to help meet your needs

Nikto

You thought he wouldn't notice, you had barely noticed it yourself, but perhaps Nikto had caught it quite early on, it had gone unnoticed by you how often he had a habit of watching you, it was a custom he had

He knew how you did things, your routine, your habits and everything, so it was unusual to him how much you struggled now to concentrate, while you wrote it off as not getting enough sleep Nikto was already taking notes

He also didn't think it was normal for you to suddenly become so tired or come up with rashes, he sort of casually brought up when your next check up was and told you to get it done sooner, and how surprised you were when you came back with the results

You probably trust him more with reminding you to do certain things so now he's become your notepad, if it were someone else he wouldn't even bat an eye, but since it's you he's letting you do whatever, like a cat that becomes fond of a person

He doesn't mind being soft with you either if it means making you feel just a little bit better on a day when you're feeling down

[biancadoes1]

Maybe we have it all wrong…

Maybe A is L’s girlfriend. Maybe he just wants it to be really private. Maybe he doesn’t come to her defense online because they have an understanding. He’s told her he just can’t defend her. Maybe he lets her post pictures that insinuate he is with her because he can’t admit it openly (you know keeping it private and all). Maybe he’s just a really bad boyfriend who doesn’t care about the backlash she gets because this is show business. Maybe he wants to see himself growing old with a “twirker” who is just in the relationship for the fame and glory. Maybe he’s okay with mediocre. Maybe he just doesn’t want to show PDA when he’s with A. Maybe he can be himself with her, and that’s why he feels comfortable enough to pick his nose while out with her. Maybe he’s okay looking like he just doesn’t care about his career or his self esteem and chooses her over both. Maybe he’s okay with everyone thinking he’s miserable with her although he may not be. Maybe he’s really happy with her and just put on an over the top act with N while on the World Tour. Maybe his co-workers really don’t think he’s the best dude. They just said those empty words to build him up or to hide who he really is from everyone.

And with N and J maybe he did kiss her at Cannes. I mean we’ve never seen that before, but maybe they’re trying something new. Maybe she is the love of his life, and we’ve just misconstrued things he’s posted in the past. Maybe he changed himself so she would fall in love with him. Maybe she thinks he’s the most charismatic and charming man she’s ever met. Maybe she’s okay with the age gap, and he makes her feel younger (realizing she was entering college when he was just starting school). Maybe she’s okay with people thinking he’s her young lover and future father of her children. Maybe he is her roomie and lover rolled all into one. She is obviously okay this time around with sharing her relationship with the world so he must be the “one.” She’s never done that before. So maybe that’s why their friends don’t rejoice in their relationship. Maybe they’ve been told not to post about how blissful and happy they are.

Maybe L and N are just two co-stars who played it up for the cameras and lied about that relationship they’re always touting. Maybe the SAGS was all just one big act that they both deserve awards for. Maybe people in the industry who are always questioning their relationship are just blind or have it all wrong. Maybe they don’t even know when the other person’s birthday is. I mean they didn’t wish each other a happy birthday this year. They probably don’t even know where the other one lives. I mean it was probably just a complete coincidence N was photographed at a place just a few mere miles where L had been photographed the week before. Yeah just a big coincidence. Doubtful they ever hang out together aside from work or know what the other’s favorite foods are. Sure they don’t know what music the other listens to either or what concerts they attend. And I’m sure N exaggerated about cooking for L or about buying him t-shirts. I’m sure he was just being nice when he went on and on about that peanut butter crumble. What they put off on that tour was just an illusion after all.

By the way, this is all sarcasm if some don’t get that, and I could have just gone on and on. Some people need to think critically…

Damn anon.

You cooked.

[drabbles-mc]

Invisible Silver Linings (1/7)

Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x F!Reader

Series Warnings: 18+, Thunderbolts* spoilers, language, angst, mentions of scars, mentions of self-harm/suicidal ideations

Summary: You signed on to become part of a study when you realized that you didn't have anything left to lose. What harm could it really do? How much worse could it really get? ... You didn't expect to get answers to those questions. You also didn't expect to meet Bob. You'd end up thankful for at least one of those things.

Chapter Index

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: i know i haven't written for Marvel in a while, but i started working on this lil series the second i left the theater on Thursday. it's so nice to see Lewis Pullman getting the creds he deserves. 🥰anyway!!!! I've finished this series and will be posting updates on a weekly or twice-weekly basis until it's all up here and good to go. please let me know what you think!

“They've been taking us in batches,” you told him. You hadn't even bothered to introduce yourself to him, but from the moment they brought him into the room with the rest of you, he'd been looking around, a little twitchy and on-edge. You supposed that you couldn't really blame him. It was a strange position that you were all finding yourselves in. Then again, you had all chosen to sign up for it.

He turned and looked at you, eyes wide and worried at the same time. “Wh-what?”

You nodded in the direction of the doors on the opposite end of the room, not the ones that he had just walked through or anyone else either. One set brought you in, another set brought you out. You had yet to see anyone come back into the room after they left, and while there were plenty of things that that could mean, you wondered if it was the worst case scenario that had crossed your mind before. Judging by the look on his face, it wasn't going to take him long to think of that worst case scenario either.

“The doctors. Scientists. Whatever you wanna call them,” you gave up on titles with a shrug, “have been taking people in batches.”

His mouth dipped into a frown as he took in what you said. He looked around the room that the two of you were in, looked at all of the other people who were in there with you. No one looked very happy to be there even though, if their situations were anything like yours, they had signed off on being here. Not that you looked ecstatic either, so maybe you shouldn't judge. You were just tired. And uncomfortable. All these people stuffed into this room and they couldn't find better seating arrangements? At least the clothes they were forcing you all to wear were comfortable, even if they weren't exactly fashionable. Sure, they kind of made you feel like you were in an asylum of some kind, but they were baggy and soft so it could’ve been worse. The new guy looked like he was close to swimming in his.

He looked around long enough to realize that most people were sitting. There were limited chairs and tables, but you clearly hadn't let that deter you as you found a pocket of space on the floor to sit on. Not quite in the corner but you were far enough off to keep an eye on most of the people in the room with you. The entry door was also close by, and while you didn't have any plans or desire to make a break for it just yet, you figured that it might end up being your best bet if it came down to it. Staring down at you, he watched as you rested your head back against the wall behind you. Your legs were bent at the knee, and your arms were draped over the top of them. Whatever it was that he saw in your facial expression must've been just safe and inviting enough for him to decide to sit down next to you.

It wasn’t a graceful descent on his part, but he didn't fall on top of you. He was closer to you than maybe a stranger should've been in a place like this, but he didn’t seem like he even noticed. He crossed his legs, hands resting in his lap as he looked back and forth between you and the room around you. Something about the way he was sitting, the look on his face, he looked a little bit like a boy stuck in a man's body. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who should be signing up for sketchy medical trials that bring you to undisclosed places.

You would've been content to sit there in silence until it was your turn to get called, but apparently you were alone in that sentiment. “I'm Bob, by the way,” he said, sounding more sure of himself than he had the first time he spoke to you.

When you turned to look him in the eye, you found him already waiting and watching, an expectant look on his face that only added to the little aura of innocence around him. You figured one good turn deserved another if the two of you were going to be stuck together for now, so you gave him your name in return. He smiled at the sound of it, giving a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

“I think you're the first person I've talked to since I got here,” you told him.

He tilted his head, brows furrowing in thought. “When did you get here?”

Looking up at the ceiling, you thought about it for a moment. Being in this strange, mostly empty room that had no windows for natural light had already messed up your sense of time even though you hadn't been there that long yet. “Day before last.”

His eyes widened again. “And they still haven't taken you?”

You chuckled. “You should've seen how many people were in here. I think that's why they're doing…whatever they're doing, in batches.”

“How are they choosing people?” he asked, looking now at the small clusters of people who were still waiting. Some people were keeping to themselves, much like you had been before Bob showed up and decided to switch things up on you.

Letting your eyes close while your head was rested back, you shook your head. “No clue. I don't work here.”

He let out a quiet laugh at that. “Right. Sorry.”

Even though you weren't looking at him, choosing instead to stare at the backs of your eyelids, you could still feel the nervous energy that was radiating off him. If he kept this up, he was going to tire himself out before he even got to the hard part. If he couldn’t handle waiting, there was no way that he was going to be cut out for whatever was waiting on the other side of the exit doors. You didn’t have any words of comfort to offer him, mostly because you had no idea what the hell was really going on yourself. Something told you, though, that it wouldn’t take very long for him to pick up another topic of conversation. Wouldn’t take long for him to start asking more questions that you wouldn’t have any answers to.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he said, “Anyone say what exactly it is that they're doing?”

You didn’t open your eyes. “Nope.”

When he spoke up again, his voice was softer, almost like he was afraid for anyone to hear what he was saying. “I hope it works.”

That got you to crack one eye open so you could give him a bit of a sideways glance. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, instead his stare was fixed on the hem of his pants. He'd found a loose thread and was starting to pick at it.

“What'd they tell you?” you asked.

You wondered briefly if his eyes would ever end up getting stuck wide like that. “What?”

Turning your head to face him in earnest once more, you elaborated. “What'd they tell you they were doing? What'd they offer you to do this?”

His expression dampened, and suddenly it was like he couldn’t meet your eyes. His focus shifted back to the thread. He was shaking his head, and something told you the action wasn't directed at you, but rather at himself. “They said that they could make me great. They…they could make me better.” He found it in himself to look at you, and it was then that you could see how glassy his eyes had gotten. “I really wanna be better.” He sniffed, blinking a few times to beat his tears back into submission. Giving his head and shoulders a small shake, he tried to get himself sounding normal again as he asked, “Wh-what'd they tell you?”

“Something similar.” The point of your elbows dug into the tops of your knees as you dropped your head into your hands. Raking your fingers back along your scalp, you rested with your head down for a moment before looking at Bob again. “I'm not really looking to be great. I just,” you shrugged, “it can't get much worse for me so I figured why not?”

The genuine sadness on his face shocked you. All those feelings for someone who was a complete stranger to him. “Oh. I'm sor—”

You waved him off before he could finish the apology. “Don't be. Not like any of it was your fault. Besides, we both still ended up here regardless,” you made a brief gesture to the room, “so what the fuck does it really matter?”

There was a thoughtful frown on his face as he considered your words. “Right.” Quiet filled the space between you again. You could only try to venture a guess at what Bob was thinking about. Probably everything that led him here—that's what you'd spent most of your time thinking about, anyway. Wondering if this was the right choice or not, not that there were many other choices at your disposal anyway. No use in regretting it. You were here in your pajama uniform with Bob and dozens of other people whose names you hadn't bothered to try and learn. This was what you had now. There was nothing more to it than that.

Marvel Taglist (please let me know if you'd like to be added!): @garbinge @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 @blackhawkfanatic

[xlostinthedreamfics]

In a Good Way: Chapter 1 (Yunho Fic)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x Female Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Playlist: In a Good Way - Faye Webster

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, cursing, mentions of alcohol (This story does not reflect who the members are in any way.)

Summary: Nice guys are not your type, too angelic, too holy, too boring until one of these nice guys gets under your skin. What you have been wanting has been in front of you this whole time, and if you don’t act quick, it might just miss you.

Note: I originally was going to make this a one-shot, but I think this needs 2 chapters! I hope you enjoy this; it's one of my favorites so far 🤭

You scrolled aimlessly through your texts, just waiting for his notification. You groaned loudly, throwing your head back against your best friend’s couch. “What is it?” You felt the spot next to you dip, seeing a concerned Yeosang next to you, followed by a curious San on the other side. “It’s nothing, Hwa just hasn't texted me.” Groans from both sides of you erupted, “Y/N, we told you to leave him.” Yeosang sighed, his fingers massaging his temples. “You know you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” San shook his head, slapping his hand against your thigh. “Food is on the way, a nice hot meal will make you feel better! Yunho should be coming soon.” Your head snapped over to San, “Yunho? I thought it was just going to be us three.” Yeosang nudged you softly, “Be nice, Yunho is a cool guy.” You sighed, your head falling back against the couch again, “I’m sure he is.”

You had no issue with Yunho, quite the contrary, Yunho was among the nicest people you’ve met. Sure, you didn’t know him well; he was Yeosang’s friend, not yours. But the times you have spoken to Yunho, it felt like you couldn’t be your sarcastic, unhinged, natural self. He was too nice, too good for your crude jokes. “Wait!” San got up from the couch, pointing at Yeosang, then at you. “Yunho! He’d be perfect for you.” Yeosang looked over at you as he covered his mouth, “San is on to something.” You pulled yourself up from the couch, walking over to the bathroom, “Not going to happen.” You closed the door behind you, your phone clutched up to your chest. Maybe I should just call him. 

Seonghwa, the guy you have been infatuated with for the past six months. You met him at the coffee shop by your apartment. He was the new barista behind the counter. You couldn’t help to make frequent coffee runs, having conversations with him while you picked up your caramel latte every morning. He beat you to it by finally asking for your number, texting you to hang out that same night. Let’s just say you both got acquainted really well that night, and you considered visiting your coffee shop twice a day. Seonghwa loved to hear all the crazy adventures you got up to with your friends, your recent trinket obsession, songs that reminded you of him, and he wanted to hear anything you had to say, minus conversations about defining the relationship between you two. He always followed with, “I’m just not ready right now,” or “I want to be the best version of myself for you.” San and Yeosang said they knew guys like him, aka a total fuck boy as San likes to announce everytime you vent about him. He wasn’t bad, most of the time. Sure, he made promises that he couldn’t keep and would ignore your texts or calls at times, but when you did see each other, it just felt right. And maybe you weren’t the relationship type? Maybe something casual like this was okay, too.

Ring. Ring. Ring. “Hwa-” The voicemail message played, making you hang up before the beep. It’s fair to say your last relationships or situationships were not the best either. You never had anything amazing to compare them to. Was there even such a thing as true love, loyalty, or genuine interest? Yeosang said it could be your taste in men, but you just liked what you liked, and it just ended up being men with commitment issues, but great in bed. You stormed out of the bathroom, bumping into a tall figure just outside the door. You glanced up to see a smiling Yunho looking down at you, “Hey, Y/N.” You half-smiled, walking around him. “Hey Yunho.” You made your way back over to the couch, slumping down next to Yeosang. “Pizza will make you feel better.” Yeosang handed over his plate to you, a delicious and hot pepperoni slice just waiting to make you happy. “Thanks.” You held onto the paper plate, watching as the rest of the guys grabbed their food before turning on the movie. This was a regular thing for you, Yeosang and San: movie nights. It was San’s turn to pick the movie, and just your luck, it was a romance drama. “San, am I going to cry?” San hushed you, nuzzling into the armchair next to you, his eyes focused on the TV. You glanced over at Yunho, sitting so proper on the other chair, neatly eating his pizza. You rolled your eyes, glancing down at your phone, still no text back from Hwa. 

The movie ended, and San was holding onto the throw pillow, wiping his tears as the end credits appeared. You’d be lying if you said you paid attention the whole way through; most of the time was spent checking your phone. “Why would they not end it on a happy note? Why did you show us this?” Yeosang sighed, chucking a pillow at San. Yunho laughed, “I kind of like when that happens, sometimes happy endings don’t always happen, just like real life.” You wanted your happy ending with Hwa, was that too much to ask for? Your phone began to vibrate suddenly, Seonghwa’s name lighting up on the screen. “Oh, guys, I gotta go. See you later!” You snatched your purse, running out the door of Yeosang’s apartment, straight to the elevators. 

“Seonghwa, hey.” You reached the lobby, walking out towards the exit. “Hey, sorry I didn’t text back. I was hanging with some friends, but maybe we can see each other later tonight?” You headed toward the train station, zipping up your jacket as the chilly night air hit you. “Sure, yeah, just let me know what time.” 

—--------

You waited up for Seonghwa until 2 am and knocked out, realizing that he wasn’t going to come over like he said. You peeked over at your phone, no notifications, just one from the group chat with San and Yeosang.

San: Get home safe!

Yeosang: Are you home now?

You squinted your eyes, the beaming rays of the sun filling your room. You rolled over on your stomach, texting the group chat back. 

You: Sorry, guys, I came home and fell asleep. I’m alive and well. 

You dropped your head back onto your pillow, happy that it was Saturday, but the heavy feeling in your chest was not leaving. You wondered why you let yourself be toyed with so much, you didn’t want to believe that Hwa was a fuck boy. When you’re together, it truly feels like there’s no one around but you and him. You can be yourself with him, talk about the most random shit, laugh until your stomach hurts and ride his face until you can’t feel your legs. It was perfect, but the multiple efforts of asking him what he thought about you both and what he wanted just left you feeling more empty and disappointed. He would say how much he wanted you and cared for you, then would ignore you for days, just to call you in the early hours of the morning to come over and rail you to sleep. It felt like a cycle of your highest highs and your lowest lows. You knew he would be working at the coffee shop today, and you needed a latte. You got dressed, heading out the doors, just a few blocks away from your favorite coffee shop. The shop had a live DJ on Saturdays, so it was busier than on other days. You headed toward the counter, not spotting Seonghwa anywhere around. “Morning! What can I get started for you?” The worker greeted you at the counter, “Just a medium caramel latte, please.” You glanced around the shop, focusing back on the worker to pay. Maybe he wasn’t working today; you made your way to the pickup area, waiting for your drink.

“Y/N?” You looked over to see Yunho, a baseball cap resting on his head, a very casual boyfriend aesthetic he had going on today, not a strand of hair out of place, not one wrinkle on his clothes. You waved at him, pursing your lips as he walked over, “You come here?” He nodded, “I do, usually on the weekends when I have time. I live right around the corner. What’s your go-to drink here?” You continued to scan the room behind Yunho, “Caramel Latte, you?” Maybe he was starting late today? “Latte for Y/N!” You jumped a bit, walking over to the counter to grab your drink. You glanced up, taking a long sip, your eyes catching a familiar face. There he is. You were about to make your way to Hwa but stopped when you noticed him hovering over some other girl, playing with her hands, making her laugh obnoxiously loud. “What the fuck?” You said out loud, causing Yunho to turn his attention toward you. 

You threw your sunglasses over your eyes, storming out of the coffee shop. The worst part of this all was that you knew Seonghwa would deny it. “Y/N!” Yunho followed after you, his pace picking up faster to catch up. “Are you okay?” You waved him off, “I don’t need saving, Yunho, I’m fine.” Yunho chuckled nervously, “I’m not trying to save you, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You stopped at an intersection, waiting for the pedestrian signal to mark, to walk. “I’m fine, Yunho, don’t worry about me and my mess. Go back to your perfect morning.” You sighed as you made your way across the street, leaving a confused Yunho behind.

—--------

As soon as you got home, you slammed your coffee cup on the counter, abandoning it for the rest of the day. You got back into your bed, wrapping yourself in your bedding. You were tired of feeling like this, so fucking over it. Your phone vibrated, Yeosang. You ignored it, rolling over to the other side, shutting your eyes as if you could force yourself to fall asleep right now. The phone stopped vibrating, and a few messages followed. You reached for your phone, opening up your notifications. 

Yeosang: Y/N?

Yeosang: Yunho told me you ran out of the coffee shop?

Yeosang: Did something happen with that Seonghwa guy?

Yeosang: Do me and San have to beat his ass?

You laughed at the image of them storming into the coffee shop to kick Seonghwa’s ass, the chuckles making the heaviness in your chest feel a little lighter. You knew if you didn’t respond to Yeosang, he would send San to your door since he was only a few buildings down from you. 

You: Yeah, I’m okay. I’m going to end things with him. 

You sent that last part without even thinking, like your subconscious wanted you to admit it, admit that he wasn’t good for you. You swiped over to Seonghwa’s message chat.

You: Come over today? I want to talk to you about something.

He responded quickly this time.

Hwa: Yeah, I’ll come over after my shift. 

You read this message over and over, contemplating what you were going to say once he was in front of you. You paced your room, practicing, “I think it’s best if we just stop, whatever this is.” You stared at yourself in the mirror, nodding in approval. “Yeah, just straight to the point.” You sat at the edge of your bed, you’ve been doing this for the last few hours, and you finally made yourself hungry. You reached into the cupboard for some popcorn, a quick snack while you looked over the food delivery app to get some type of noodle dish. Your phone buzzed, a text from Hwa.

Hwa: On my way!

You rushed to fix your bed, pick up around your apartment, and get into more comfortable clothes than the jeans you were still in from earlier. After you placed your food order, Seonghwa knocked at your door. “Coming!” You shouted out excitedly, forgetting that you were about to end things with him. Your stomach fell to your ass as the realizination hit you. You opened the door to a smiling Seonghwa who immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing the side of your neck and then your lips. “I missed you.” He spoke against your lips, slipping his hands under your shirt. “Seonghwa, I wanted to talk to you.” He pulled away slowly, sitting on your couch before pulling you onto his lap. “What’s up?”

“I went by the coffee shop today.” His eyes gleamed up at you as he ran his hand up and down your thigh, squeezing it playfully. “You did? You should’ve told me. I would have paid for your coffee.” You placed your hand over his to stop him from playing with your thigh, and he frowned, “Is everything okay?” You sighed, pulling yourself up from him, “I saw you with that girl Seonghwa.” You looked at him with defeat in your eyes, no energy to scream, shout, or plead for his apology like you used to do. “Babe, that’s just my new coworker. It’s not a big deal.” He patted his lap for you to sit back down, “You believe me, right?” You watched him, his big eyes beaming up at you as he pulled you back down on him. He placed a kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

—--------

You knocked on Yeosang’s door, hearing his footsteps move closer, finally letting you in. “Hey! What are you up-” You looked over at Yunho, who was sitting on the couch, looking up from his phone to face you. “Oh, hey Yunho.” Yeosang shut the door behind you, “We were just chilling, thinking of catching some lunch in a bit if you want to come.” You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jacket, nodding to Yeosang. “Sure, I could go for some food.” You took a seat in the armchair, tapping along the armrest. “So?” Yeosang sat on the couch beside you. “Did you end things?” You noticed Yunho peeking up from his phone, looking at you before returning to his phone again. “The weather app said it was going to be sunny today.” You peered over at the window, trying not to look at Yeosang, who was sighing in disbelief. “Y/N, you said you were going to end things. What happened?” You slumped your shoulders, looking down at your hands. “We talked things through, okay? We’re good now.” 

“It gets to a point, Y/N, where he’s going to expect your forgiveness every time, it won’t even mean anything to him.” Yeosang shook his head.

“Look, Seonghwa gets a bad rep, but he’s a great guy. He cares for me.” 

“He seemed to care about that girl yesterday, too,” Yunho mumbled under his breath, causing you and Yeosang to snap your heads over to him. “What?” Yeosang asked, not knowing the whole situation that had happened at the coffee shop yesterday. “Yunho, I didn’t ask for your opinion. Thanks.” You got up from the couch, pulling your bag over your shoulder. “I forgot I had something to do. I’ll see you later, Yeosang.” You headed out, frantically making your way toward the elevators. Just when you think you’re living happily on your delusional cloud about Seonghwa, someone throws reality in your face again, and this time it was goody two-shoes Yunho. 

Even after you and Seonghwa talked it out, even after he had you bent over your bed, and even after cuddling you to sleep, the hole in your chest grew bigger. There was no chance you believed that he wasn’t flirting with his coworker, but you also believed that he cared for you. Yunho didn’t know shit, he shouldn’t have said anything to begin with. The rest of the day, you stuffed your face with leftovers and rotted away in your bed, ignoring every possible text from Yeosang and San. Why were you deciding to deprive yourself of actual happiness, you didn’t know; you felt stuck in this endless cycle with Seonghwa and with yourself. 

There was a knock on your door, your heart beating quickly as you became startled by the noise. You walked over to the door, looking through the peephole, and saw Yunho waiting patiently for you to answer. “Yunho?” You opened it up, seeing him with a bag in his hand. “Yeosang and San were going to check in on you. But I offered to go since I wanted to apologize. I bear wine and some amazing pho? San told me you can never turn down pho.” He held the brown paper big in front of you, smiling as you snatched it from him. “Come in, I guess.” You scooted over to let him in, shutting the door behind him.

“This could’ve just been a text, you know? But thanks for the pho.” You peeked into the bag, pulling out the wine first, popping it open. “I'd rather do it in person.” Yunho looked around your apartment, “Oh, cool, you play?” He pointed at your guitar in the corner of your living room. “I dabble.” You poured the wine into two cups, handing one to Yunho. He grinned, taking it from you. “Listen, Y/N, I’m sorry about getting involved earlier. I just know how it feels. You deserve a good guy who-” 

You took a sip from your cup before cutting him off, “You don’t know what I deserve. You don’t even know me, Yunho. You can’t come here and think your advice will be some saving grace. Can you just please go?” You downed the wine in your cup, placing it in the sink behind you. 

“I just-” You walked over to the door, opening it for him. “Have a good night, Yunho.” He nodded, placing the cup down on the counter before walking out. “I’m sorry.” You shot him a thumbs up, closing your door in front of his face. “He just thinks he’s so righteous all the time, doesn't he?” You opened up the bottle, drinking it straight from the spout as you plopped down on your couch, eyeing the guitar in the corner, not remembering the last time you felt happy enough to play.

—--------

You avoided going to Yeosang’s for a few days, you had let him know you were a little busy with work and hoped to hang out sometime during the weekend. Anything to avoid a confrontation about your situation with Hwa and to avoid seeing Yunho. Literally, who does he think he is? You shook off the annoyance, reaching for your phone as it vibrated in your pocket. Yeosang.

“Y/N!” Yeosang shouted through the phone, “What are you doing Saturday?” You sat down on your couch, mentally going through the calendar in your head. “Hmm, I don’t think I’m doing anything, why?” You heard San’s giggle in the background, “We’re planning a surprise party for Yunho at my place! You’ll come right?” Yeosang pleaded as you sighed into the phone, “There’s going to be plenty of alcohol!” You heard San yell from the background, causing you to snicker. “Fuck, San knows what I like.” Yeosang chuckled, “Is that a yes?” You paused, biting down on your lip. “Fine, but I’m just going for the booze. Not for Yunho.” Yeosang groaned on the other end of the phone, “This enemies-to-lovers is truly taking too long.” You scoffed at him, “Never. Going. To. Happen. Bye.” You hung up, throwing your phone across the room, landing it on your bed. 

You could never say no to a good party, maybe you could bring Seonghwa this time to finally meet your friends. You’ve asked him before, but something always came up. You got up to fetch your phone again, shooting him a text.

You: Hwa, my friend Yeosang is having a party at his place on Saturday. Come with me?

You smiled at the idea of Seonghwa coming with you, socializing with your friends, drinking together, and having a good time with your favorite people. You waited a few minutes with the chat open, but no response. As the rest of the week passed by, Hwa never answered your question, just went around it to talk about something else. But now it was Saturday, and you weren’t sure if you would have a date for tonight. You called him up, the ringing continuing until he picked up at the last moment. “Hey, babe, I’m a little busy. What’s up?” You scanned through your closet, trying to figure out what to wear. “Hey, did you ever see my text about my friend Yeosang’s party tonight?” You pulled out the black skirt toward the end of the rack, the perfect piece that made you feel sexy. “Yeah, sorry I didn’t reply to that. I don’t think I’ll be able to go, I had made plans with some friends. But I can come over later tonight?” You felt your energy dip as you threw the skirt onto your bed, lying down next to it. “Yeah, that’s fine. Have fun.” Your smile faded, and you clenched your jaw tightly. “You too, babe. I’ll see you later.”

I guess you will be going dateless tonight. You sighed as you hung up the phone, lying with your thoughts for a few minutes. You sat up, looking over at the short skirt next to you, snatching it up in your hands. “Fuck it.” You were going to make sure you had a good time regardless, getting up to get ready for the night. After much struggle in picking shoes, doing your hair, and makeup, you were finally ready to have some drinks and forget about your worries. You headed out the door, zipping your leather jacket to brace for the chilly night, thinking how warm you will feel after some whisky is in your system.

You pulled up to Yeosang’s apartment, texting San to open the door since Yeosang was not answering. “Hey Y/N, you clean up nice.” San joked. “Shut up.” You smirked, nudging him playfully as you walked toward the kitchen. There were a good number of people already here, Yeosang’s EDM playlist blasting through the speakers in the living room. “Yunho should be coming in a few!” Yeosang shouted out to the guests, preparing for the surprise. You rolled your eyes as you made your way to the bottles lined up on the counter, pouring yourself a drink. “Okay, you’re ready to party,” Yeosang smirked at you, wrapping his arm around you, toasting his filled cup with yours. Before he could take a sip, he reached for his phone. “Shit, he’s on his way up.” Yeosang headed toward the rest of the attendees, “Everyone hide, he’s coming up!” 

You stood, leaning against the counter, not budging. San crouched behind the kitchen island, “Y/N, get down.” You glanced down at him, exhaling sharply as he took hold of your hand, pulling you down next to him. Yeosang turned off the music and the lights, waiting by the door until a knock was heard. You could see the excitement on his face as he yanked the door open, “Surprise!” He turned the lights back on, the group of people springing up from their hiding spots, including San. You got up slowly after seeing the biggest smile on Yunho’s face as he covered his face shyly. “What?” He was so surprised as his friends came around him, hugging him one by one. You crossed your arms over your chest, taking another drink from your cup. He has it all, a good head on his shoulder, a great moral compass, amazing friends, god’s favorite. 

Yunho made his rounds with each person, finally reaching you in the kitchen, his smile dropping slowly as he approached you. “Y/N, thanks for coming.” You downed your drink, pouring yourself more. “I came for Yeosang, but happy birthday.” You motioned your cup up to cheer his empty hand, walking over to the couch. The drinks continued throughout the night, and before you knew it, your vision was blurry and you were spilling your secrets to some guy you thought was San, but San was on the other side of the room, cackling at you. You patted the guy's arm softly, “Sorry about that.” You covered your mouth to hold in your laugh, walking over to San, pushing him playfully. “Fuck you.” San shook his head as he laughed, “Should we all take a shot?” He looked around for Yeosang and Yunho, dragging everyone to the kitchen as he poured each of you a healthy double shot of tequila. 

“I hate tequila.” Yunho frowned at his shot glass. “It’s your birthday, and all you have been drinking is Sauvignon Blanc.” Yeosang teased, passing you your shot. “Damn Yunho, don’t get too crazy now.” You mocked him, laughing as his eyebrows furrowed, watching him down the shot immediately. You stared in shock, eyeing everyone else as you all took your shots down soon after. “Happy Birthday, Yunho!” San shouted, grabbing onto his shoulders, shaking him excitedly. Yunho laughed, his sour face from the tequila still present. You stayed in the kitchen as Yeosang and San made their way back to the living room, fighting over which song to play next. Yeosang was keen on playing Alan Walker while San wanted to switch it to Charli XCX. You poured yourself another whisky drink, knowing that you shouldn’t drink anymore. Yunho lingered around you, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“Water, Yunho? On your birthday? You’re so lame.” You chuckled, taking a sip from your cup. “I just know my limits.” He waved his hands up, opening the water bottle. You glared at him, “Are you saying, I don't?” Yunho laughed, “You’re putting words in my mouth.” You leaned back against the counter. “You think you’re better than everyone?” Yunho took another drink from his bottle, stepping in front of you. “This made-up narrative you have of me? Where does it come from?” Your blurred vision became clearer as you stared up at him. “Is it made up? You’re telling me you’re not some goody two-shoes, church boy, who can never do wrong?” He frowned, watching you intensely as you continued. “You always want to be captain, save a hoe or something, put your two cents in where it’s not needed because you think you know so much.” You expressed mockingly, taking another sip of your drink. 

“I don’t have to explain myself to you if you clearly don’t want anything to do with me.” Yunho leaned his arm against the counter behind you, his face hovering close to yours. You shrugged at him, eyeing his lips as he spoke, his large hands fully engulfing the water bottle in his hand. You felt yourself swallow down the urge to pull him closer, to feel his warmth against you. “Would it kill you to have some fun?” You smirked, passing your semi-full cup towards him. He stared down at the red solo cup, placing his water bottle down on the counter, reaching for your cup. He stared at you as he took a large gulp from your cup, his face not even flinching, not like when he took that tequila shot. The residue of the whisky on the top of his lip, you found yourself wiping it away slowly, licking it off your finger. Yunho let out a small exhale as he watched you, gripping the cup in his hand. 

You wrapped your hand behind his neck, pulling him closer until your lips touched. The mix of hate, alcohol, and curiosity between you both. Before your lips could mold into his, he pulled away swiftly. “Y/N.” You looked off to the side as you sighed, pushing him back away from you. “I guess you can’t have fun.” Yunho moved slightly closer, but still giving you your space, “As much as I want to kis-” You shushed him, his face growing blurry again. “Don’t even worry about it.” You crashed onto the couch, reaching into your bag to pull out your phone. It was about 1 am now, you swiped onto Seonghwa’s chat.

You: Meet me at my place?

Hwa: I’ll be there.

You smiled as you clutched your phone against your chest, stuffing it back in your bag as you pulled the bag over your shoulder. “Yeosang!” You shouted out to him, and he was sitting on the floor playing some drinking game with a few other people. He glanced over, blushed cheeks and a smile on his face, oh, he was drunk. You laughed, “I’m going to head out.” Yeosang frowned, “Already? I’ll have San walk you home.” You shook your head, reaching for your leather jacket, “No, no, it’s okay. Seonghwa is going to meet me at my place. I’ll share my location.” Yeosang nodded, waving you off. You said goodbye to a drunk San who was snuggled up with a bag of chips, singing along to the music. “I can walk you home, Y/N.” He stopped singing, his eyes trying to focus on you. “It’s okay, don’t worry, you keep singing.” You patted his shoulder as you made your way out of the apartment, to the elevator, and out the door. The chilly air hit you immediately, pulling on your jacket as you began to make your way to your place. You stumbled slightly, feeling someone hold you up instantly, balancing you. You whipped your head around, “Yunho?” You pulled your arms away from him quickly. “Don’t touch me.” You dusted yourself off, continuing to walk. You stopped in your tracks immediately, “Yunho, stop following me, you creep!” You glared back at him, stomping forward. “I just want to make sure you get home safe, okay? It’s late.” 

“I am capable of getting home, thank you, but no thank you.” You held onto your shoulder bag, trekking down the sidewalk, trying to focus on not falling over. After a few minutes, you were sure Yunho stopped following you, but as you turned around, he was about half a block behind you. “Yunho, please. Just go back to your party!” Yunho slowly caught up, “I am not going to feel okay if I don’t know you made it home safely.” Yunho insisted, his cheeks turning a pink shade from the chilly air. “I’m like 3 blocks away now, okay? I’ll be home in no time, now go.” You sighed loudly as you continued to hear the steps behind you. You were just a block away from your house, feeling your phone vibrate in your jacket pocket, Seonghwa. You answered quickly, “Hi.” You smiled into the phone, glancing up to see him walking toward you on the opposite side of the sidewalk. “I see you.” He giggled, making his way to you, wrapping you up in an embrace. 

He pulled away, standing in front of you as he stared at Yunho, who was just a few feet behind you. “Who’s that?” He asked, furrowing his eyes at the tall guy in front of him. “That’s Yunho, Yeosang’s friend. He-” Yunho moved toward you slowly, “I’m walking her home, making sure she gets in safely.” He smiled at Seonghwa. “Well, I got it from here now.” Seonghwa wrapped his arm around you. “Do you?” Yunho asked, eyeing you. “Are you going to be okay, Y/N?” You sighed, nodding, “I’m-” Seonghwa chuckled, “Listen, I’m here now. My girl doesn’t need your protection, so you can go.” Seonghwa glared, trying to pull you into your apartment building. “Your girl? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” Yunho snickered, stuffing his cold hands into his jacket pockets. “What the fuck does that mean?” Seonghwa let go of your hand, making his way closer to Yunho. “If she were my girl, I wouldn’t have let her go to a party by herself and walk home by herself, too, but that’s just me.” He shrugged. Seonghwa took hold of the collar of Yunho’s jacket. “Well good thing, nobody fucking asked.” Hwa laughed, shoving him back. “Let’s get inside now, Y/N.” 

You looked back at Yunho as you made your way inside, holding Seonghwa’s hand tightly. As soon as you got into your apartment, Seonghwa led you to the bed, your drunk self lying back, kicking off your boots. Seonghwa sat on the chair in the living room, tapping his fingers on his thigh anxiously. You noticed he wasn’t lying on the bed with you, sitting up, you stared at him from across the room. “Babe?” The frown on his face caused you to sober up ever so slightly. “Everything okay?” You pushed, glancing down at the small rip on your tights. “Is something going on between you and that guy?” He spoke softly, staring down at the floor in front of him instead of you. “What?” You scoffed, replaying the kiss from earlier in your head, gulping down the guilt. “No, he’s Yeosang’s friend. I don’t know him that well.” Seonghwa nodded, exhaling as he finally looked up at you. “Y/N, please be honest with me. The man walked you home, almost wanted to start shit with me. Did something happen between you?” 

The guilt spread on your face, hoping it wasn’t noticeable. “We kissed.” You mumbled under your breath, feeling your eyes water. You peeked up to see Seonghwa still like a statue, not moving, but the clenching of his jaw was obvious. “I was drunk, I still am. I-It didn’t mean anything, Hwa.” He nodded, running his fingers through his hair as he leaned back on the chair, looking up at the ceiling stoically. “I mean, I can’t say anything. You’re not my girlfriend.” The words stung deep, like a knife twisted in your chest, twisting and twisting. Your breath quickened, like a switch was turned on in your head. The uneasiness, this guilt, the heavy feeling that you had for the past few months, building in your chest. “Hwa.” You cried out, watching him get up from the chair to finally face you. “I don’t trust easily, Y/N, you know this. It takes so much for me to let anyone in because it somehow always leads to disappointment. Which is why I lingered so much on the thought of us being together. I can’t do this, I’m proven right every time and I’m so fucking tired.” You felt the tears fall instantly, steaming as they ran down your still-cold cheeks.

“Yeah, I fucked up and kissed him. I’m sorry. But what about all the times I caught you flirting with other girls, the messages in your phone that you played off as jokes?” You felt the anger bubble inside of you. “Own up to that, Seonghwa.” He bit down on his lip; you could tell from his eyes that his thoughts were running a mile a second. “I’m done, Y/N.” You jumped up from your bed, seeing him walk toward your door. “Are you serious? You’re going to guilt-trip me and then not even take ownership of your mistakes? You’re a fucking coward Park Seonghwa.” You shouted out, following behind him, shutting the door in his face. “Fuck!” You yelled out to the door, making your way back to your bed, missing it and sliding down to the floor. You lay on the scratchy rug, the tears welling up as you gazed up at the ceiling; you felt everything but nothing at the same time. 

—--------

The sun peeked through your curtains, making you stir in your bed, pulling the sheets over your head. Your head pounded, just what you needed, a hangover. You pushed the duvet off of you, glancing down at the outfit you wore yesterday still on your body. You didn’t bother to change or take your makeup off after Seonghwa left, instead, you sobbed into your pillows and fell asleep that way. You sighed deeply before pushing yourself to get up to change your clothes and wash your face. Your brain hadn’t seemed to have processed everything that happened; you knew you would get messy when you drank, but still did it anyway. Instead of having a good time at the party, you were left with misery as a party favor. You looked at yourself in the mirror, streaks of mascara down your cheek. “You’re such a mess.” You chuckled at yourself, splashing the cold water in your face.

You decided that you would stay in, watch movies, and order takeout until the unforeseen future; you had no motivation to see anyone or anything, not even the sky. You sat in your living room, watching a random 80s rom-com from the stack of movies you had. Bad boy meets good girl, can’t help but fall in love with her, and cannot hide his true feelings. “A bunch of bullshit!” You shouted at the TV, groaning as you leaned back on the chair. But this was your life for a moment, at least you thought so. It was day 3 of moping in your sadness and refusing to see the daylight, full vampire mode, until you were reminded that people cared about your well-being. Your phone rang, Yeosang. You placed the phone to your ear, holding it up with your shoulder as you shoved more popcorn in your mouth. “What’s up?” Yeosang laughed on the other end, “I haven’t heard from you since the party, that’s what’s up. Why haven’t you been answering my texts?” You tossed a kernel up in the air, missing your mouth completely. 

“Right. Well, let’s just say things are shit.” You tossed another kernel up in the air, catching it this time. “Why? What happened?” You sighed, placing the popcorn to the side as you curled up in the chair. “Seonghwa ended things.” You heard Yeosang exhale on the other end, “I’m sorry, Y/N.” You played with your hands, holding back your tears, “Thanks. I’ll get over it, he wasn’t good for me anyway.” You took a deep breath, your mind replaying the fight with Seonghwa over and over. “Why don’t you come over? We can order some food, and play Mortal Kombat? I’ll let you win.” Yeosang snickered. “I always win, Yeosang. What do you mean?” He scoffed. “No, you don’t! Come here and prove it.” You smiled, breaking out into a giggle. “Fine, I’ll come over. Be there in a few.” You hung up, glancing at the state your apartment was in, but having no motivation to clean it right now. 

—--------

The days locked in your apartment made you miss the warmth of the sun, although the air was still chilly. You made your way to Yeosang’s apartment, clicking on the elevator button. You watched as the numbers descended, finally pinging to the lobby. You slid into an empty elevator, pressing Yeosang’s floor, watching the doors close slowly. “Hold the elevator!” You heard someone shout out, usually you would be an ass and pretend you didn’t hear that but you held your hand out for the person. “Thanks.” Ugh, shit. You stared up at Yunho as he made his way in the elevator. “Great.” You mumbled under your breath, standing in the corner on the opposite side of him. “Hi.” He spoke, biting down on his lip as you ignored him. 

“Why are you here? I thought I would just get to spend time with my best friend alone, guess not.” You sighed as the elevator moved slowly. “I didn’t know you had plans with Yeosang, I’m sorry. I don’t have to stay, I’ll just go.” Yunho spoke softly, looking over at you. “Now you want to listen to me.” You smirked, shaking your head. “What did I do?” Yunho turned to face you. “What didn’t you do?” He furrowed his brows. “Well, maybe you should tell me.” You laughed, looking down at your hands. “I’m not going to bother.” Yunho scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “There you go again.” You glanced over at him. “What does that mean?” The lights from the elevator flickered as it halted to a complete stop, the number on the screen stopping at the 7th floor. You clicked on the buttons, none of them making it move. “Fuck.” You whined, smacking your head against the wall of the elevator. “We’re fucking stuck. How wonderful.” Yunho moved toward the buttons, holding down the emergency button, and the operator picked up. “Hi, we’re in an elevator on 3214 North Emory Street, and it seems like we’re stuck.” Yunho continued explaining to the operator the situation you were both in. “Okay, we’re sending someone over, could be about 30 to 40 mins. Try and remain calm, they will get you out shortly.”

“Remain calm?” You felt your breath quicken; this was the worst time to be claustrophobic. “Hey, deep breaths okay?” Yunho came to your side, sitting you down next to him, his hands holding yours. You nodded at him, feeling your breath slow down. “I’m good, I’m okay.” You glanced down at your hands, both of you pulling away quickly. You couldn’t help but laugh, “What is my life?” You leaned your head against the wall, closing your eyes. It was silent for a few minutes until Yunho spoke again. “I’m sorry for that night.” You opened your eyes, looking over at him. “This is like your 5th apology to me, I think.” You smirked, playing with the rings on your fingers. “If you accept it, I’ll stop.” Yunho chuckled, watching you fidget with your rings. You rolled your eyes, looking over at him. “That’s no fun.” You smiled.

“I think I should be the one to apologize.” Yunho gasped playfully, receiving a nudge from you. “I’m serious! I’ve been such an ass to you, you’re just a good guy and I crucified you for it.” He held his hand up to his chest, “Damn crucified? You’re playing up this church boy role, huh?” You grinned, “Well, aren’t you?” Yunho nodded, “Sure, but it’s not the only thing I am.” He tapped his hand on his legs, “You paint me out to be this saint who could do no wrong. But I’ve done wrong, I can be bad too.” He laughed, playing with the material of his pants. “Oh really? Bad boy Yunho exists? Do tell.” He peeked over at you, his smile fading. “Well, I wanted to punch your boyfriend that night, that’s for sure.” You felt the pressure on your chest again at the mention of Seonghwa. “He’s not my boyfriend.” You responded quickly, biting down on your lip. “He ended things with me that night.” You confessed, staring at Yunho, who had a sad frown on his face, “I told him that we kissed, and he lost it. I mean rightfully so.” Yunho huffed, “He didn’t deserve you.” You shuckled lightly, “You love to say that when you don’t even know me and what I deserve, Yunho.”

He leaned his head back, “I don’t need to know you, to know that you deserve a good guy to treat you well. Someone who will bring you your favorite food, walk you home at night, apologize, take accountability, and will hear you out even if you want to bite their head off.” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yunho, you’re describing yourself. What are you on about?” Yunho scooted closer to you, his legs brushing against yours. You looked down as his hand traveled to yours. “It means I should’ve kept kissing you that night.” You both stared at each other for a minute, like the heat between you was building as he inched his face closer, kissing your lips softly. You didn’t pull away, instead, you placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him into a deeper kiss, the smell of his cologne penetrating your space. His lips lingered on yours as he kissed the corner of your lips, your cheeks, and back to your lips again. “I’m-” You put your finger up to his lips, “I swear, Yunho, if you apologize one more time.” You threw your leg over him, straddling him now, your arms wrapped around his neck. You kissed him again, not wanting to ever stop. 

He held you close to him, his hands on your lower back as he kissed you with such need, a craving for more of you. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his lips trail down your neck, placing kisses on your shoulder, licking your skin delicately. You bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it playfully, a smile appearing on his face before he crashed his lips on yours again, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned softly against his mouth, tugging at his hair lightly, feeling him grow beneath you. You felt your hips move against him slowly, an ache burning in your core as you kissed down his neck, sucking at his skin roughly, as he exhaled a groan. You slipped your hands into his coat, tugging at it for him to take it off. He obliged, doing the same to your jacket. His hands slid down the back of your thighs, squeezing them tightly, his fingers creeping under your skirt, up toward your ass. You pulled away from his neck, staring into his eyes as you rocked against him, causing his mouth to drop open as he watched you. 

Beep. “Hey guys-” The operator spoke, causing you and Yunho to jump up instantly. “We have firefighters on their way up to let you out, give them like 5 minutes, okay?” You gulped, fixing your hair and your lipstick. You reached for your jacket from the floor and put it back on. “Thank you.” You stared over at Yunho, his hands adjusting himself as he reached for his coat, too. You both peeked at each other, giggling coming from both sides of the elevator, as the elevator doors opened up in front of you.

[rockrosethistle]

Explaining All The Hatchetfield Lore:

(disclaimer: all lot of this is based on context clues and expositional monologues, so it is my best guess and could be wrong. But I'm pretty sure it's right.)

We start in the 1820's, on an island in Lake Michigan. Now, there's three main families you need to know about here, and those are Muckwabs, the Metzgers, and the Waylons. Remember those because they're important.

So around 1824, Willabella Muckwab discovers the eldritch entities known as the Lords in Black (LiB). She becomes a devoted follower of them, and writes a book out of children's blood, which details their history, how to summon them, spells, prophecies, etc. This book is called the Abominable Tome, but it is most often referred to as the Black Book.

Well maybe the town doesn't like the fact that their children are disappearing, or maybe they discover the book, we don't know exactly what happened. But Willabella Muckwab is tried as a witch and hung. This doesn't kill off the Muckwab family, however, because Willabella had a daughter. That will be important later.

So basically, Willabella is hung by the Metzger family (remember them?) who are often referred to as the Hatchetmen. She is buried in the woods, the black book is lost, but her soul lives on, because of her connection to the Lords in Black. Well this isn't good, so the Hatchetmen begin killing anyone else who shows signs of having magic, burying them around the woods so they can grow into trees, their magic trapping Willabella in a 'web.' All of these magic tree-people form a forest, which is called the Witchwood. The Witchwood has special properties, because of all the magic. It affects the soil and the way things grow, but most importantly, it traps Willabella, who's is known as The Witch in The Web.

Jump ahead to 1827, it's been a couple years since Willabella's death, and that island is now known as the town of Hatchetfield. That's when the the Waylons show up (remember them?) Well, the Agatha and Mathias Waylon find the Black Book, rediscovering the Lords In Black. And isn't this just a super cool religion? Let's get everyone else involved! The Waylon's form a cult, called the Church of The Starry Children, who worship the LiB. They have a ton of people on board, and with the LiB, they offer sacrifices get rich and stay forever young. The Waylon family also sets up 5 Dark Altars around town, which coincides to the 5 Lords in Black. These altars are the Old School House, Waylon hall, the Old Mill, the Hatchetfield Gazette, and the Starlight Theater. All of these are places where somebody could summon the Lords in Black, with very little knowledge or power.

So the Church of The Starry Children has been doing very well for quite a while. In 1945, they begin the Honey Queen festival, a tradition where they elect one woman per year to sacrifice to the Lord in Black, Nibblenephim. They're very good at hiding in plain sight. However, they can't stay hidden forever. In 1975, they are meeting in Waylon Hall, when they are ambushed by the Metzgers, also known as the Hatchetmen. The Hatchetmen massacre the Starry Children, and once again, the Black Book is lost.

I hope you're enjoying this lore because it's only just getting interesting. That was all pretty straight foreword, and people generally don't argue about it. So for a recap, we have Willabella who wrote basically an evil bible for the Lords in Black, and who was murdered by the Hatchetmen. Then you have the Church of the Starry children, who worshipped the Lords in Black, also murdered by the Hatchetmen. Those are our three families. What if I told you that after all this happened, three other characters were up to some wacky hijinks? This is where things get muddy.

Now introducing our three new parties of interest: Willabella's daughter, the PEIP organization, and a mysterious woman only known as Miss Holloway. Here's what's up with those guys.

Miss Holloway was a pop star, rising to fame in the 1980's. We don't know a lot about her backstory, but it is assumed that she witnessed a tragedy, because she sought the help of the Lords in Black. They made her a deal that would allow her to have the power to help those in need, but in return, she would have to give up what she cherished most. (We don't know if those were the exact terms of the deal, but it seems to be the standard deal when it comes to the Lords in Black, so we go with that.) So Miss Holloway takes the deal. She gives up the ability to be remembered: no one knows who she is, and anytime she tries to tell anybody her story, it is immediately erased from their memory. In return, the Lords in Black make her the keeper of the Black Book, as well as magic such as hypnosis, and the ability to regenerate her body. She is able to die, but she always comes back. There is only one thing that can kill her, and that is a dagger known as the Black Blade, which she used to kill a man who made a similar deal, named Wilbur Cross.

But who is Wilbur Cross? To explain that, we have to explain Paranormal, Extraterrestrial, Inter-dimensional Phenomena, or the government agency known as PEIP. Wilbur Cross was an army Colonel, and very high-ranking in PEIP. In 2005, PEIP constructed an inter-dimensional portal to a place outside of time and space known as the Black and White. They didn't know that the B&W was home to the Lords in Black. On October 5, 2005, they sent Wilbur Cross through that portal, where he encountered the Lords in Black and pledged his allegiance to them. He was also gifted powers and immortality, but to serve the Lords in Black, which meant that he used it for evil. He stepped back out of the portal, appearing to the remaking PEIP agents, before disappearing to Hatchetfield, where he murdered Sheriff Douglas Keane.

Remember Willabella's daughter? Well, she had a daughter, who had a daughter, etc. The family tree continued until October 5, 2005, when a couple of things happened simultaneously. The portal was opened to the Black and White at the same time Hannah Foster, the descendant of Willabella Muckwab, was born. This caused a few events to occur, most notably that the timeline was shattered. Until that point, there was only one universe, but on that day, when Hannah was born and Wilbur stepped through the portal, infinite universes were created, branching off from that moment.

As a descendant of Willabella Muckwab, Hannah (as well as her older sister, Lex) was born with powers, also known as "the Gift." Her powers gave her a close connection to the Black and White, and even more so to Webby, who is not a Lord in Black, but is their sister. Webby is a spider-like goddess who embodies light and love, the antithesis of the Lords in Black. She is in a constant feud with them to gain control of the many realities, and to protect Hannah from her brothers and their minions, such as Wilbur Cross.

Now, Hannah's powers were stronger than anybody else's. She is clearly the strongest out of all the other children with a touch of the gift, and has been able to speak with Webby since she was young. I believe that this is a result of her being born at the moment that the divide between reality and The Black And White was weakest. Hannah is basically a cosmic trump card. Whoever controls Hannah controls the universe, so Webby and the Lords in Black are in a constant battle over her. The LiB want her dead, and Webby wants her alive, so that could mean that her power could be the thing to reconnect all the realities.

In present day, we have a couple of things playing out at once. Everybody's still in a competition over Hannah, with Lex determined to protect her. Miss Holloway uses her powers to help children, alongside Duke Keane, who she is falling in love with, and whose father was murdered by Wilbur Cross. Wilbur Cross does Wiggly's bidding. Some members or the Church of the Starry Children live on, those descended from or related to (by blood or marriage) the original members, and still indulge in the LiB's power and riches. Waylon Hall is cursed so that nothing may truly die there. As the Witchwood is cut down, little by little, its hold on Willabella weakens. And the Black Altars still remain, where anyone with the Black Book may summon the Lords in Black. In realities where Miss Holloway is murdered, the Black Book is kept safe by Solomon Lauter, mayor of Hatchetfield. Also, the Lords in a lack seem to have favourite humans to torture across multiple realities. The Spankoffski family is often a target of T'noy Karaxis, as an example.

So yup, that's where we're at. That's the baseline understanding of events that we as a fandom all seem to have, yet don't write down because that a lot of writing. Good thing I like writing!

Oh, and there's one thing I missed. We hate Clivesdale. Fuck Clivesdale.

[limarkova]

Experimental Obsession

Pt 10

Prev

Barbara watched through the security cameras as (Name) walked around the mall with Jason. Her mind would flash back randomly to when the girl was barely a year old. Back to when she could walk and dance. Dick would hold her in his lap while Barbara practiced. Each move was done to rounds of giggles and claps from the chubby little toddler.

Than it changed. Barbara couldn't dance anymore and Jason was suddenly gone. (Name) kept asking questions that no one could answer. Suddenly it became all to easy for Barbara to drown herself in work. "Where are the culprits? What's the status on the blood analysis? Are the suspects still in the building? Why did they commit this crime?" All easier to answer than "Where is Jay? What happen to your legs? Are you okay? Why is everyone so sad?"

Now watching (Name), Barbara felt frustrated at how hard the questions had become to answer. How in a family of paranoid individuals all obsessed with control did one member disappear for two years? Not just any member but the most vulnerable one. Barbara rubbed at her eyebrows before looking back at the cameras. Jason had left her with Roy, who had put a number in her new phone.

A phone. Barbara swallowed, fingers itching at the keys. They had used Bruce's card to purchase the phone. Putting it on Jason's plan, Barbara could find the number and remotely hack in. "It would just be one little tracker. Just in case."

She took a deep breath but paused. Everyone always got mad at Bruce when he invaded their privacy by doing these things. Could she really do that to (Name)? Barbara looked back at the camera footage to see Roy lead the girl into a store. "Do it Barbara."

Barbara spun around to see Bruce behind her. His arms were crossed watching the footage just like she was. Barbara placed a hand to her chest taking deep breaths, "You scared me." She looked back to the computer clicking on to the next video feed, "Are you sure we should do that? Don't growing teens need their privacy?"

"What if her kidnappers come back for her?" Bruce countered, "We've gotten lucky so far that nothing has happened."

"The evidence Jason found suggests they might not return for her." Barbara shrugged. Even she could admit she wasn't very convincing. The argument was too weak. Bruce leveled her with a serious look. Barbara sighed, "It's only for emergencies."

"Of course." Bruce nodded watching as Roy handed (Name) a box of hair. He blinked looking to Barbara, "What are they doing?"

"Shopping, apparently. With your credit card." Barbara sighed, "on the opposite side of town from where Jason told Dick."

"Get ready to go. We'll meet them down there." Bruce turned to leave the Belfry. Barbara looked back to the computer. (Name) was moving through the store with Roy walking close behind. Kori came into the frame holding a collar for the new cat. The two girls laughed petting the kitten while Roy went and paid for the hair dye.

She looked so normal and happy. Barbara found herself smiling as she watched the screen. She could still see that bright toddler who was amazed at her dancing again. However, the incident at the breakfast table flashed briefly. The fear in her eyes mixing with betrayal.

"Just one little bug on her phone to alert me...... us if something is wrong."

Ra's was in leagues headquarters, planning the training course that his new student would use. (Name) has natural talent that needed to be refined. His daughter had been right on that. However, getting the girl to join the league, especially with who her father was, would be a challenge. Thinking back to his encounter he paused.

She had been so much more like her in person than just through the camera. If felt like he was looking at her age for the first time in over 500 years. The best part of all, was that she had look at him like she knew him. She was clearly confused by that knowing but had known all the same.

"Father, I have made the necessary preparations." Ra's nodded at Talia's words. They had prepared a room for the girl, fully ready to bring her to join the league. Though her paused in that line of thinking. Assuming everything they had learned so far was true, the girl would not react well to another 'kidnapping'. It was also just bring the bats in fully enraged.

"Those won't be necessary for a while."

"What about our plans?" Talia looked at Ra's with disbelief. Her mind was running through a hundred different scenarios. Her cold calculating gaze give credit.

Ra's looked back to the training plan, "Would it not be better to have her come to the league willingly? She would be less likely to run and would return to us if the Wayne's steal her away."

"Slow and steady to win the race." It clicked in her head with a wicked smirk. Ra's mirrored her expression merely tilting his head to Talia. His daughter nodded to him, "I'll adjust my plans. Focus on making her trust us."

"You also have to turn her against the Waynes." Ra's made a nod in her training plans. "Make it so she can't trust them."

"Oh, that will be easy." Talia nodded, turning to leave the room. "We'll have our new heir to the league soon."

You and the Outlaws entered Jason's apartment. Laughter filling the air as everyone walked in. Churro was in the pet carrier, napping. Every time you looked at the carrier you smiled wider. Was getting a cat a smart decision in your plan for revenge? No, but you could leave the little guy there. The kitten had been abandoned just like you, with no willing to save them.

Two abandoned creatures finding one another. It made you smile once more as you eyed the carrier. You were pulled out of your reverie by Jason groaning, "What are you guys doing here?"

Looking from the cat carrier you joined Jason in groaning. The entire family stan you and Jason were crowd in the living room. Bruce sat in Jason old recliner, legs crossed, looking like the perfect image of a billionaire. Dick was sitting on Jason's couch with Damian and Tim next to him. He had an arm over the back of the couch, yet his chill posture was betrayed by his sharp judging eyes.

Tim was focused on his phone, reading something but he looked up to nod at you. Damian was intensely focused on you. His gaze was sharp and assessing as he began studying you. Cass, Steph, and Duke were sitting on the floor around the coffee table. There was half finished round of go fish. Duke gave you a bright smile but there was something off about it. Cass was looking at the carrier with piqued interest. Steph was looking at you like it was the first she had every truly seen you. It was her gaze that was the most unsettling.

Barbara was sitting in her wheelchair with her laptop in her lap. The charging cord for said laptop was plugged into the outlet not too far away. She was typing furiously, eyebrows scrunched up as she focused on something. Her expression was a mix of anger, disbelief, and confusion.

"Glad to see you too." Bruce answered half sarcastically. "How was red lobster?"

Jason shrugged, "Nothing looked appetizing. We ended up meeting the Outlaws at Burrito Bucket."

"Really?" Dick said a bit too causally, "and you didn't tell us this because?"

You rolled your eyes at the family's questions. Turning back to the cat carrier you opened the door and gently lifted Churro out into your arms. Everyone paused at the sight of the animal. Damian stood from the couch and began to walk towards the cat. He kneeled down next to you looking at the cat with wide eyes, "Whose cat is this?"

"Mine." You began to gently scratch under Churro's chin. Damian reached out and began to stroke Churro's head. The kitten mewled as they slowly woke up.

Bruce gave Jason a flat look, "I said no more animals."

"To Damian. You never said anything to (Name)." Jason smirked slightly. He gave Bruce a defiant look as you press a hand to your mouth to keep from laughing.

Your biological father gave Jason a weird look before looking at the Outlaws, "Can you guys give us a minute? This is a family matter."

The Outlaw looked between each other before awkwardly shuffling out. Barbara finally looked up from her laptop. Her face morphed into one of pity as she caught sight of you. She looked down at the laptop before glancing around the room, "I decode the hard drive Jason found in the facility."

"What facility?" The air in the room began to feel heavy. Your stomach began to bubble making you feel sick, worsen by the tighten in your throat.

Duke stepped forward, gently taking your hand. Jason sat down behind you. It made you feel trapped in place. Duke took a deep breath, but Jason beat him to it, "We found where you were held for the last two years and recovered a hard drive alongside some paperwork."

The world dropped out from under you.

Prev

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