#shockingly only cried once i was done

[onyourhyuck]

Dive. | K.JW

— Prologue: “What I’ve always dreamed about, diving into you.”

— Summary: It’s not easy being rivals with Jungwoo in a competitive music industry workplace. You’re both striving to be the better one.

— Genre: Romance office setting. Office smut minors dni. Jungwoo is always hating on y/n here. Y/n is trying to be civil. There will be a lot of angst + y/n has little traumatic fear of being yelled at. There is little fluff and wholesomeness between them later on. Mutual masturbation over call? Y/n cries at one point in the fic. They hook up later on. Dom!jungwoo. Jungwoo’s actually very whipped for Y/n he just has a hard time showing it.

— Notes: Prompt idea from @yujuvly

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You’re rushing out of your car not even properly dressed your clothes being half on you and half off you. You couldn’t look in the mirror because you’re late to work and today was the day you get a partner to work on a project of your choice. You work for a music industry music company where a bunch of song writers produce lyrics to certain boy or girl groups, even solo musicians such as Eric Nam. You’re very talented because you have an unique imagination but what you lack was time management.

You couldn’t help it. Last night you couldn’t sleep and you went to bed late because of that now you’re rushing on your way to work. Your hair was done but covered by the wind outside messes it up and all your hard work on your hair went down the drain. You hold your high heels you wear to work in your hand, your blazer and trousers were properly zipped up. You fidget in the elevator picking the number ten.

Looking in the elevator mirror you fix the roughed up crinkle clothing on you, cussing gentle and breathing heavily out. You brush your hair with your fingers as it’s the only thing you can do to fix that hair problem — next you take off your trainer shoes and put on the heels.

When the elevator opens you get off and walk to the music song writing department which is you. Your ID card around your neck scans access opening the door department and you walking in caused so many people to go and stare at you.

Your boss mentally slaps himself seeing you walk in and you bow down to your boss hoping he will forgive you this once for your mistake.

But you had a feeling someone else wouldn’t forgive you.

“I’m sorry for being late boss.” You said out genuinely terrified but your boss seems reluctantly with you for once he weren’t screaming at you. He looks up giving you the meeting details in one singular file. “Forget it. Go to your new partner, you’re meant to come up with a song good enough for the biggest company in whole of South Korea.”

Your eyes widen. “SM Entertainment?”

“I know you’ve been my star employee for a few months but Jungwoo has more experience. He might help you out. Now leave my office get to work.” He nodded and you slowly turn around looking at the file as you left his office. You sit down at your desk and shockingly gasp out wanting to pull your hair. ‘Why am i paired up with Kim Fucking Jungwoo?’

The devil himself appears at your desk not impressed nor glad to be paired up with you. Jungwoo sat down next to your desk slamming down the files and staring at them but his mean disliking voice that did nothing to hide his disappointment with you speaks to you and your shimmering confidence.

“You were late. How are you still allowed to walk into this building without being under the impression that you’re probably the worst worker here?”

You turn around trying to be kind as possible but today it just wasn’t going with your mood. You weren’t feeling as kind as before and today wasn’t exactly your best day.

“You’re going to keep being like this just because our boss likes me better and prefers my song writing to yours.” Your fake smile could boil Jungwoo down a large cauldron and he wouldn’t even notice how your sarcasm was there.

Jungwoo is a young handsome man working in the same company as you. He is your work rival, work nemesis, work enemy. You name it anything against you and he’s exact definition of that. He had it out for you ever since you joined. Ever since the first day you arrived to this department he made it clear he disliked you and wanted nothing to do with you. You hate that you don’t dislike him though you just find him unbearable to deal with because he’s using all his energy to hate you everyday. You come to work and all you see was Jungwoo demanding you do this right or he disagrees how your work style is different from him and now I’m appearing to be the wrong one. He acts like he’s better than you.

He was handsome though and you couldn’t lie about that the first day you met him you deem him to be a cute man who looked kind, he had this sweet alluring aura about him on his face. He was quite pale but he looked smooth and innocent. His large doe like eyes were almost like puppy eyes constantly and you found yourself staring at them a lot. He was tall surprisingly very tall. He’s the tallest out of you and the rest of your coworkers.

But the moment his mouth opened it was quite the legit opposite of whatever cute was or handsome will ever be. The first thing he said to you was “I don’t like your outfit today. Please don’t wear this colour to the office again. You’re distracting everyone from their work.” You wanted to tell him that’s absurd. You wanted to tell him ‘Girl it’s legit navy blue how is it..’ but you didn’t. You stayed respectful! You stayed the kind one and the wiser one stepping down.

He glares not liking that you hit where it all was soft and mushy in his heart. Ever since you came to the company he wasn’t star employee and you got the attention unlike him. He was the best till you came and now he’s got a freaking rival to deal with. He’s constantly fighting to be no.1 but you’re in the picture all the fucking time. It’s starting to feel like you’re here to punish him. But instead you don’t understand why he’s like this to you.

You don’t even understand why he’s so mean to you all the freaking time, you just assume he is like that to everyone. You don’t care though he can do whatever he wants, you’re going to stay on top because you’ve worked hard to get here. Your hard working can’t go down the drainage like this.

“I don’t need to be like this because of that. I just don’t like you and your attitude towards the work is mild and lazy. You’re work to this company has done nothing. I don’t want you to be my partner because you will take all the damn credit.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him when he said this. Seriously ‘Take all the damn credit?’ What does he take you for a Freud? A con artist? You couldn’t believe your ears but Jungwoo truthfully disliked you because he just did and you can’t help it but slam down your keyboard.

The loud slam in the office coming from your keyboard as you stood up from your chair. Jungwoo flinched suddenly wondering why the heck did you do that until you face him announcing loudly.

“I’m going to get coffee.” You stare blankly turning around tiredly of his bullish tone and his bullying words. Jungwoo glares murmuring. “What a psycho… geez does she need to vandalise the building.” He whispers as you left to make your own coffee in the staff room.

You don’t think you can survive being partnered up with Jungwoo. There are way more cons than pros to this but you hope and pray that the pros can out weight the cons and therefore it’s not going to give you a bad performance rate.

You need this promotion. You need it. You also know Jungwoo needs it. You won’t let him have it however so no matter what you’re going to try your hardest.

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It’s officially the time where you might reconsider leaving the department because Jungwoo being your working partner was the worst decision ever you might feel like this might start a whole new war between you both and you don’t need that on a pile of him being your nemesis, enemy and rival all in one. God he doesn’t need another factor to become your reasoning of death either.

It’s been two days since working together and when you say ‘working together’ you mean segueing an argument about every song you’ve wrote opposite wise. You both have different music tastes for SM entertainment you’d want to use and you can’t submit two you have to submit one that you both produce together. Together. Yes together and you’re not doing that exactly. You’re working separately because you both refused to.

“Look maybe you need to stop writing and let me do all the writing and all the producing and all the everything and you can just sit there and look like a dumb lost child.” Jungwoo snapped.

You sit there rubbing your hands through your hair unbelievable of the man in front snapping at you when you’re at your wits end with him. You can’t do this anymore and you just turn around with your child very slowly paring your dagger pushing eyes into him.

You try to be kind no matter what. You respect him. He isn’t respecting you. But you know very well you can’t snap at him because you don’t have the meanness in you to do something like that to him.

“Jungwoo that’s not working together.” You say back and Jungwoo looks away scoffing. “It is. Your name will be on my piece of work isn’t that enough for you?”

‘What a jerk.’ You thought.

“Is there anyway i can help i don’t want to sit back and do nothing. I’m also working here Jungwoo.” You look back at his song writing sheet grabbing it from his desk, the man turns around twisting to grab it back but you held it with your hands. “Here how about i make your ballad bridge better? That way some of my work is on there.” You said with a smile looking up.

His gaze didn’t change but his eyebrows twitch in annoyance grabbing the paper off your fingertips snatching it away and him turning around scowling, rudely pulling at your attempt towards his work. “You can’t do anything to help. You’re bad at song writing alright, just go home or something.” He urges.

“You’d do me so much more good if you left and stopped distracting me.” He says and you stand there feeling useless and completely beaten down by his horrible words to you.

Your gaze sadly looks over closing the computer and standing up grabbing your jacket and bag. You don’t say anything until you sigh looking at him.

“Suit yourself. Call me when you’re done.” You say blankly not fighting with Jungwoo anymore. You’re tired and it is what it is. You can’t work with him because he refuses, so might as well join em if you can’t change them.

You left the night hours where your attention goes on to the phone contact calling. ‘Honey’ and it was your boyfriend. Tonight it’s date night at his place usually it’s your apartment but tonight he was convinced by you to have it at his place.

You were suddenly feeling slightly happy to see your boyfriend of few months. It might be only four months but you’ve been enjoying your time with him and these days after work he was the only good thing coming out of a horrible day with Jungwoo.

You manage to drive to his place and you park it outside the lot getting out. You held your hands in the pockets until reaching the doorstep you lift the door matt and underneath was the spare key he would always tell you to pick up. But as you did you unlock the door and entering in to see a young woman and man giggling in a dark setting living room with candles lit up and rose petals on the flooring.

You crush your eyes at the ideas running to your head and you refused to believe it was for you the moment your hands push the living room door to see a man and young woman that wasn’t you snuggling to his chest.

You tilt your head entering. Your so called boyfriend saw you and he jumped up still in his boxers and half naked. He was shirtless and embarrassed on his face.

“Y/n! You… left work early.” He trails confused and how to fix this deal and situation. In other words he’s trying to lie to you and you could see it on his face. You were so dumb wondering why he would be so refusing to let you stay over at his place.

The woman looks back at the man and you. “Honey who’s this woman?” She looks back at you pointing your voice at him. “What are you doing here with my husband?”

You widen your eyes at him. ‘Oh I was the side chick.’ You let out wondering what the heck happened now. Zero from a hundred your pain felt worse now that you possible home wrecked a relationship you didn’t want. A marriage you had no idea about. God you feel so awful about yourself and feeling so bad that you believed this man wasn’t married.

“Your husband was cheating on you with me. I had no idea he was married.” You blankly trail looking around opening your phone screen with his contact name and his number. The woman was equally shocked and turns around to the man and you again.

“You mean you knew he was married?” She spat and you look at her widen eyes. “No I didn’t know he was married. I wouldn’t of dated him if he was.”

She scoffs. “Sure, every side chick uses that excuse.”

You clench your eyebrows together scowling. If she refused to believe you that’s up to her but you couldn’t help but feel defensive. You don’t want to be painted as someone who was fucking behind the scene with a married man, that’s the worst trait anyone could have on their profile. You’d hate that.

“Your husband is the problem here.”

He comes up to you pushing you out of the house. “No! You manipulated me! I don’t even know you. God Honey these woman keep on coming trying to separate us.” He urges you and you shout pushing him. “Don’t touch me you cheater.” You croak out walking yourself out of the house.

You spit on his door in disgust and shame. “Have some respect for women asshole none of them would want a man balding in his thirties.” You tell him walking away.

The man angrily runs to you grabbing your hair and slapping you but you held your ground and through watery tears look up. Your high heels step on his bare foot on the ground and he grabs falling backwards and holding them tight.

“Don’t touch me again.” You say feeling disgusted.

You couldn’t believe you were easily fooled by a married man and you found yourself feeling stupid. More stupid than before. God you were so wrong about many things and you’re always wrong you feel; at this point you feel like you’re never doing anything right. If your work department isn’t going well and your love life department isn’t either your whole life was going to collapse. Maybe it’s already collapsed but you’re now crumbling since it’s your turn.

You drive back to your apartment very late. You drove back to Seoul and you couldn’t help but break down the moment you enter your apartment closing the door. You take off your jacket throwing it loosely on the couch. Your heels slowly come off but you felt loose on motivation to do anything and all your heart could take was breathing, but even that felt like a chore to do. You had no one to turn to.

You sat on the couch drinking soju you kept on your fridge for special occasions — now they’re just used for sad occasions you have today.

You had your mother but you don’t want to burden her any longer than she could deal with. After all your mother has to be the least person to see you struggling you can’t let her know the truth behind your happy work and happy life façade. You can’t do that. You break down when you open your phone unable to take it anymore.

You didn’t want to be here standing anywhere. You wish you were somewhere else. Perhaps someone else. You wish you were Jungwoo who looks like he has it all in life. He has everything he could ever want you wish you were your damn rival; the one who hates you.

No he doesn’t hate you. He is the one who despises you; because if you were him you’d probably hate yourself too. You would also hate you if you were someone else and that’s what makes you completely unworthy of having that job. Jungwoo said it and you’re starting to believe him.

Your phone opens the contact of Kim Jungwoo. You felt so stupid but you wanted someone to tell at you and be there for you. However Jungwoo was the least person to provide you of that you called him anyways.

The moment he picks up the soft lingering voice was there asking who it was calling him. “Hello Kim Jungwoo speaking?” But the minute your voice heard his sweet voice you were on your way down sobbing midway.

“Jungwoo… how are you so fucking perfect all the time.” You trail as you take a large sip from the soju. Jungwoo’s eyes widen hearing you sound so different from the way you left the office.

Many things rang in his head. He thought at first what are you on about, but then he heard you crying and he stopped working. The way his brain shuts down all his purposes when hearing you cry on the other line of the phone and he was worried for once, he really was. You’re not the type to cry. You’re not the type to call him unless you really had to do he knew it was serious when he heard it’s you.

He trails in a broken sentence. He wasn’t sure what to say to you honestly but he was worried. “Are… Y/n what are you saying. What happened to you?”

“I’m agreeing with what you’re probably thinking.” You say putting the soju down. Slamming it on the table rather. “I’m useless. I’m so stupid for believing him. I cant even keep a relationship, nonetheless a freaking job.”

He looks around his bedroom late at night before you called he was working on the song Dive he was going to call it. He couldn’t help but think perhaps you were drinking and maybe you called the wrong number but no, the next minute you kept chanting his name in all sorts of cute noises. He couldn’t believe he was this much on your mind it made him think perhaps you were admiring him but at the same time hating him that you look up to your rival this much.

“Jungwoo… Jung…. Woo… why must you be so mean to me… what did i ever do to you? If i did something… tell me Kim… Jung… woo…”

You were getting more tipsy than you first thought you were getting and planning. Jungwoo smiles uncontrollably behind the phone hearing you speak and say his name. In reality he never once hated you, in fact he never once disliked you.

He found you someone that he was envious of but he never once said he hated or disliked you. He just disliked the way you were talented and he couldn’t bring himself to say it to you because of his horribleness behind the pride he has. Nonetheless he was looking up to you. You looked like you had your life together something which he has not. You were beautiful too, probably the most beautiful woman he’s ever encountered and he can’t lie anymore.

You were drunk and he could feel himself being the real him to you. The nicer version, the one that actually fell for you at first glance but he was scared so he put on a terrifying persona to keep you away.

The ironical distinction was that Jungwoo happens to have a muse which was you. You were the muse to all these sudden romance song writing he was doing in the spare time and they were all about you. In fact this song Dive was about you.

It’s why he was so persistent about keeping it and letting him do it because he wanted this song to be about you. He wanted this song to come and go from his imagination the way he imagined you. You’re someone he would dive in and take a taste of. All these imaginary scenarios he has of you, he can imagine you drip dropping if he was there with you. You’re someone he loves from the sideline.

Where you least expect it.

He slants back answering you cutely. “You didn’t do anything Y/n. I don’t hate you.”

You crawl off the couch getting up and slowly walking to the bedroom flopping on your bed. Your clothes shift off your body and you slightly moan out drunkly.

Jungwoo felt himself go red hearing you and he sat up. You let out a long straining huff out feeling your face become warm thanks to the alcohol flushing your cheeks bright red.

“why are you… so mean to me then…” you lay there on your bed undressing with Jungwoo on the other line hearing you change your clothes.

He gulps but turns away trying not to imagine all sorts of things this late. He didn’t want to perv on you. It was clear you weren’t well and you cried to him for comfort. He should at least do that to you.

“I’m jealous of you Y/n. It’s what jealous people do. They hate on you because you’re better than them.” He whispers and you lay there crawling under the covers, sniffing with your wet nose because of how much you bawled your eyes out.

“Why were you crying Y/n?” Jungwoo would ask you this time you felt yourself twist around murmuring in broken tones.

“I just found out my ex boyfriend was married… and I felt like an awful person not knowing he was.” You lay there staring at your ceiling with the phone close to your ears. You could hear Jungwoo’s soft tone become slightly more intense but he still kept this comforting warm hug around you almost even though he was not there physically in your apartment.His words felt like a warm diving hug from the virtual screen.

“You deserve better Y/n.” He lingers laying back. ‘You deserve to be with me at least…. I’m better than that asshole who broke your heart.’ It’s what he wanted to say but he couldn’t.

You close your eyes. “I don’t know… I feel frustrated. I was hoping our date night would end up well… I even dressed up nicely for him today…” you couldn’t feel anymore stupid realising the things you’ve done prepping that perhaps after the date you could sleep with him but no. He was married.

“You did look pretty today.” ‘You always do.’ Jungwoo thought clearing his tongue tight so he couldn’t let you hear his obvious thoughts.

You felt your cheeks go warm because of a rare compliment from your rival, Jungwoo, on the other line of the phone. You felt maybe it’s the alcohol playing you but you could feel that maybe it was not.

“You thought I was… pretty today?” You repeated.

There was a lingering pause from Jungwoo but he was soon getting the courage to agree with you. It was a cute and wholesome thing he said for a long time, maybe the first time, you can’t remember a time where Jungwoo was nice to you at work or outside of work.

“Mhm i did say that.” Jungwoo told quietly.

You couldn’t believe it but something made your heart race unexpectedly fast you thought you were getting sick inside but all you were was Jungwoo’s puppet falling for his romantic tactics. His sweet words possessed you like a doll and took away your mind from that lingering breaking up sadness. Somehow you aren’t drunk on alcohol you’re not drunk on Jungwoo’s praises.

You gulp stuttering out shyly. “How about we call on my laptop and do some… more work… i wanna see your work that you’ve done.”

Jungwoo looks at his laptop on the side next to where he sat opening his song he written and he hums looking at the time. He could spare a few hours with you if it meant he could listen to you blabbering more and more.

“Okay call me then, I can spare a bit more time for you.”

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As much as it pains you not being able to do much song writing you felt a sort of relative knowledge about how good Jungwoo was at making lyrics seem so real and romantic. Unlike you your lyrics have a different vibe and feeling to it making the lyrics mean something else that wasn’t romance. He went for a romance that was hidden from someone.

The lyrics were beautifully well written it felt like a secret admirer who wouldn’t want to be discovered. You wonder if he wrote this from a perspective of someone or if he wrote it from a perspective such as his own and if there was a person that makes him feel these feelings that the lyrics portray.

You hate to admit but you loved the song. You were glad you didn’t do anything to it. When Jungwoo saw your face becoming satisfied reading the lyrics analysing each one from the other you were exposed and Jungwoo wanted to let you know how he feels through his songs to you.

You hum. “I love the song. The lyrics are meaningful and melancholy almost. I never understood how you get the inspiration from. I could never write things like this.” You tell him looking at the camera through your laptop. Your cameras were on and you were sitting at the same position in your bed both in your pyjamas which made this somehow more comfortable and less formal.

You were speaking casually together and nothing rude came out of your mouths. You were just relaxing and discussing work, as if you were friends. Not rivals.

You discuss more songs you got end up having on the album because the company arranged a young boy group debuting from SM to be the group with that title track Dive song. However you suggested adding more and Jungwoo suggested afterwards that you should write something for another song they could perform to.

You were happy to be able to write a song finally to your liking and Jungwoo let’s you surprised you knowing he was very against you becoming a writer. But he was fine as long as you leave Dive as it is.

You work in silence for a while until it became very late. You both were on the verge of nearly sleeping midway working and suddenly you saw Jungwoo has fallen asleep on his bed softly facing the camera away and you couldn’t help but smile watching the soft boy sleep away. He must’ve been tired, you called him up to do more, he was probably meant to be sleeping a while ago but he stayed up for you.

Nonetheless you continue working until you found yourself getting sleepy again. You need to wake yourself up somehow but you couldn’t think of anything. Slapping your face together with your palms wasn’t doing the job.

And the suddenly a thought crossed your mind and your eyes widen at the idea that could easily go wrong if you aren’t careful. You hesitate moving your laptop up front and moving the camera away so you you were out of the view a little. You pull yourself apart and slowly start to touch yourself in ways you couldn’t imagine if you were on a call with someone from your work or anyone actually, but something in you was emerging you were somehow liking the idea of it.

Your fingers pleasure you a little and all you were letting out was swallowed breathes that became heavy or soft depending how far and soft you went with your fingers down at your aching pussy. You couldn’t believe you were doing this but the shame dies down and you engulf yourself with a little self pleasuring energy,

Until a voice broke you off.

“Y/n are you moaning?” The voice was rasped. Jungwoo couldn’t believe his ears but he woke up to heavenly sounds of you and his urges made him now unable to sleep.

He was rock hard from only hearing you and your shake came back twicefold because now you wanted to bury yourself alive and panic. However what Jungwoo said next made you solely believe that he was twice as loose screw as you were, he wanted you. He wanted to see you and he wanted to help you out with equal amounts of parts.

He darkly demands staring into the camera. “Move your camera down so i can see you, Y/n.”

You gulp and slowly found your body doing as he said moving the camera down revealing your lower pyjamas taken off as well as your panties letting you expose your beautiful body in sight resting on your bed there and your fingers apart from the view. He could drown on your beautiful body and face he could drown at your scent at work so without a doubt he would want to Dive in you.

He leans his head back suddenly stroking himself in the camera. One look of you being naked in the camera has made him feel so many sensations it’s been edging him everyday at work seeing you and now his dream is happening. Was this a dream? It certainly felt real but everything that has happened in his dreams is now happening right in his eyes.

You ache out. “Jungwoo…”

He looks down at you humming. “Yes? Do you want me to lead you on?”

You couldn’t help but nod at him. You knew what you were doing when he wasn’t looking and now you’re overwhelmed by his stare you forgot how to move. He smiles slightly seeing you look so confused and he motions to your hand through the screen.

“Grab one finger and push it inside you slowly. In and out.”

You do as you were told putting in one finger letting your single digit going in you very slowly becoming tight and tighter when you go pull it out and in. It left you letting out a small wet dripping sound through the video call Jungwoo couldn’t help but get drunk on it to hear you dripping and dropping endlessly.

None stop too, he stroke his cock watching you at the same speed as your fingers, very slow and gracefully. As if you were made of porcelain fragile glass you were treated like you’re easy to break. Jungwoo knew one touch from him would have you melting and he knew damn well you would have him go on his knees for you.

Heck, he was losing his mind to you all this time and you haven’t even realised it.

He’s obsessed with you. He needs to breathe you.

“How does it feel y/n?” He asked you deeply wanting to hear your voice, your moans weren’t enough. He needs to hear you talk until you can’t anymore.

You voice out when Jungwoo lets you add another digit to the single one. The two fingers stretch your whole out and Jungwoo was addicted seeing you so stretched he could just imagine how tight you feel round his entire shaft he was in need to have you right here physically. It was unbearable.

“It feels good…” you couldn’t help but think that his fingers would be so much better you wanted him to have you stretch out like you were made up of nothing but soft clouds and cotton candy. You wanted to wet his fingers and you wanted his mouth the most to be on yours.

Jungwoo was practically delusional on you straight up watching you pleasure yourself and become a moaning mess was not enough for him he had to meet and touch you. Speak to you and tell you all his feelings he’s been hiding from you all along. That he doesn’t hate you he was just envious and all along those romance songs were about you. He was coping with writing about you, and you weren’t aware.

“I wish it was my fingers deep inside your cunt, hitting your g spot so quickly…” oh how badly it was hurting him and you to imagine these things it really messes your perceived image of Jungwoo from before. Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, but he certainly has your body having a mind of its own. You fit your hips forward chanting.

“Jungwoo… Jungwoo please tell me to go faster… tell me what to do… what should i do for you?”

‘God you lost your sweet innocent mind.’ Jungwoo pleads for mercy because he hung forward watching you lose your own self and you were chanting all sorts of things for him to take. He grips his swollen rip pushing his thumb on it and gripping it tight the entire long length and he pauses watching you.

He won’t come without you. You have to at least come two times before he can come with you again he wants you to be the one pleasured and fucked out on the camera.

“Go fast and don’t stop. But you can’t come without my permission.”

He was mercifully taken off you and you couldn’t tell if you were punished or if you were pleasured, perhaps it was both. You wanted fast but you wanted to come more and now you won’t be able to last much, yet he’s asking you to not release without his own permission of your body. You strain yourself mentally ignoring the burning warning sign of your abdomen wanting the orgasm to happen.

Your fingers were fast on your clit watching the swollen redness become more and more apparent to your fingers rubbing it quicker. He enjoys watching you get yourself off, he enjoys hearing his name come out of your mouth, he enjoys watching your face squeezing tight when you were close but you couldn’t release yet; the way your messy hair was flowing on your shoulders but away your face. It’s your fingers digging in and out of you, but also overstimulating you. You knew what you were doing, but you wanted someone to lead you. It aroused him.

Your simple actions arouse him beyond anyone’s comprehension of this world. He was down bad for you and you were the thing he hates the most because of how much he wants you. How much he needs you makes him despise you and it’s a conflict war between the mind and the heart.

You hoarsely missed out on your voice nearly. “P-please can i? Can I come… please… Jungwoo… may i?” It was a pleading battle between you and your pride wanting to stay still and do as you were told but to see you begging was something Jungwoo never knew he needed to hear.

His cock twitched with every stroke he did to himself but your voice made him twitch out of control hearing you speak so lowly and quietly, in a hushed moan fucked out voice.

He darkly gazed at you. Without realising it he was diving in your mind like a floating ocean made him swim around with a forward stroke, each paint of his voice took over your mind making a hole in your brain, mind, heart and spirit. You felt yourself loose a part of yourself in the best way possible because he was tugging on your strings. He awoken something inside you just as much as you’ve awoken him.

Something ready to drip out, Jungwoo was measly diving in enjoying your worn out body sweating with beads upon beads of water your body producing a little smoke just like how hot you looked. You were feverishly staring at him, obediently waiting for an answer like the good girl you were. Jungwoo roughly looked at you and you enjoyed seeing his gaze that he was staring at you with.

You were spreading towards him wider enough to make his dull dry heart feel your midnight rain soaking it up. He was changing to you. He was falling for you, deeper and deeper. You didn’t know until you were seeing the way his eye crease half lidded with emotion behind those black eyes.

You’re the sweet rain coming to him like a wave he couldn’t control or tame down so he simple lets it overtake him, harder and harder watching you please yourself on his voice you could go hours on.

Precum drenching his cock thanks to your voice filling his brain to a brim of you and only you. It was a comfortable silence between you that you couldn’t put a finger on. You were in a longing quiet place between where no talk was happening but your breathes were like one. You breathe out heavily and so does he, your hands move in one motion and so did your beating hearts in your thumping chest.

Without hesitation he would dive into you. You knew that the moment you met eyes with him through the screen.

“What I’ve always dreamed about, diving into you.” He lets out sultry voice groaning out more and more than you could handle to hear.

His voice sections lingering. “Deeply, deeply into you.”

Your brain caught on a few seconds later he was saying his lyrics of the song Dive he wrote and you couldn’t help but smile out with your feverish face and your steady eyes hitching your stomach into your body. He growls out a few words such as ‘You can come, come with me’ and you felt rewarded like it was the most prized thing you’ve wanted all year and finally Christmas came and you finally got it. It felt exactly like that, a wonderful release you needed and begged for since a lifetime.

And then you release together. Jungwoo had the pleasuring experience of watching you get off like a freaking water park. You had the most thrilling orgasm out of you two his was quick and clean while yours was a dripping mess he always imagined it to be. Just like he wanted it to. It was perfect, you were perfect. The water coming out of you was nearly touching his screen but you put the laptop further to make sure it didn’t get hit. You gave him a show and he was happy, like a massive weight has been lifted off his shoulders now that you knew he didn’t hate you.

He liked you. He was hiding it was all behind that mean persona he always sought out to end you.

And just like storm ends after the the sea the calming ocean goes to sleep and goes into sleep land but none of you wanted to go yet. You both were watching your faces through the video call after you both cleaned up and no endless stream can compete to you and Jungwoo’s rain you both shed. It comforts your hearts to me in this mutual silence that you were both happy hearing. Your eyes spoke enough words for today and you only wanted Jungwoo by your side now.

You never once thought you’d want Jungwoo to sleep next to your bed, and wish he wasn’t in a computer. It makes you laugh thinking that aloud because you always thought you would never see eye to eye. You guys sorta do now.

Jungwoo pulls your head away and makes you look up to listen to him and wondering what he has to say to you, winds your heart like a marionette in a box.

“Together with you, I’m dreaming of this moment when i can dive into you again.”

You cheese at how sweet he could be asking in other terms, when can you both hook up for real. Jungwoo had a way with romanticising things and you found it fascinating. Kind of cute too.

“Anytime you want, you can Dive.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu!! Please reblog and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out <3.

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct series #nct fic #nct recs #jungwoo fanfic #jungwoo smut #jungwoo imagines #nct jungwoo #jungwoo scenarios #jungwoo hard hours #jungwoo hard thoughts #jungwoo x reader #kim jungwoo #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 smut #nct fanfic #nct u smut #nct scenarios #nct dojaejung #nct masterlist #nct moodboard #nct fluff #nct headcanons #nct headers #nct dream smut

[barbedbetty]

Stay with Me

Halbrand x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Semi rough, semi public, p in v, a little dirty talk, sex on an anvil bc c’mon, oral (fem receiving)

Y’all gotta forgive me, I just saw the new ROP yesterday and so this was not reviewed

When I first met Galadriel and Halbrand in Numenor, I had a strange mix of feelings about them.

Galadriel is kind and compassionate and fierce, she carried herself with confidence that I could only dream of having.

Halbrand on the other hand was more mysterious, he was constantly watching everyone. A lot like me I suppose, I grew up in my fathers forge and while most girls weren’t in the Navy, it wasn’t forbidden. He was spending a lot of time with my father watching him work and helping him with a few projects. I did think he was handsome but I steered away from him, he was a stranger to our island and I didn’t want to get attached.

Or so I thought, once I volunteered to go to the Southlands to fight with Galadriel, he was taking more interest in me.

I remember how Halbrand looked at me when I signed up for the voyage and he was waiting in the archway of my fathers forge that night.

“My father is away for the night.” I said as I walked past him. I set down a few things from the market and I saw him from the corner of my eye turn to face me.

“I didn’t come to see him.” He said in a low tone. “Why did you volunteer to go to the Southlands?”

I paused and turned to look at him. He looked ever more handsome with the moonlight behind him and his green eyes almost glowed in the firelight.

“I thought an adventure might be fun.” I smirked at him and he smiled.

“War is an adventure?” He came closer and I could smell the saltwater still drying on his skin.

“War is a part of life, it brings peace when done correctly.” I said quietly.

“I agree.” He reached out and gently grasped my chin, he tilted my head up so I was forced to hold eye contact.

He leaned toward me and it was like time stood still, he moved closer and closer and I was frozen in place. When his lips touched mine, it felt like my blood was on fire and then everything was moving too fast.

His fingers quickly went from my chin to my neck and I ran my hands up his chest to his shoulders and yanked him towards me.

His kiss stole the air from my lungs and I was not complaining. His other hand gripped my hip and pushed me backwards till the back of my thighs hit the large anvil.

He pulled his lips away and kept his grip on the back of my neck. He glanced down at the anvil and I could see his pupils get bigger and he looked back at me with a hunger that almost frightened me.

“If you want me to stop, tell me right now.” He said in a deep tone while holding my neck tighter with one hand and slowly lifting my skirt with the other. “Once I start, I will not stop.”

“Don’t stop.” I whispered and grabbed his collar and kissed him hard.

He easily lifted me to set me on the anvil and yanked my skirt up as far as he could. I reached down to untie his belt but he grabbed my wrists in a shockingly tight grip and shook his head.

“Not yet.” He whispered.

Before I could even let out a breath, Halbrand knelt before me and lifted my legs on top of his shoulders and started licking my cunt.

I cried out and gripped the anvil as tight as I could. He held tight to my thighs and moaned as his tongue made indecipherable designs in my folds, I felt him groan into me and I wanted to scream.

Everything felt amplified, I’d never experienced anything like this before. My skin felt like it was on fire, his tongue was erasing thoughts from my mind until there was only him. I could hear people laughing in the pub across the road and see dust floating through the firelight, I looked down and Halbrand was looking up at me. When we made eye contact, he pushed his tongue as far as he could inside me and I moaned out loud, I bit my lip and leaned my head back. His nail bit into my flesh but there was so much adrenaline pumping through me I felt nothing.

He moaned again and I felt my climax coming, so fast that it almost scared me. I tried to tell him to slow down but every time I could get a syllable out, he pushed his tongue further inside me and curled it against that one perfect spot and I almost blacked out.

Too soon, he tugged my thighs as tight as he could, he growled against my clit and curled his tongue over and over and over until I saw stars and my vision went white. My muscles grew tighter than ropes on a sail and I covered my mouth with one hand to try and keep my scream as quiet as possible.

I was still panting when Halbrand stood up, slowly lowering my legs from his shoulders and he licked his lips slowly before taking my hand off my mouth and kissing me slowly.

“Halbrand.” I whispered he pulled away.

“Y/N.” He whispered back and smiled at me. “I’m not done yet.”

He smiled as he held onto my hips and pulled my body flush against his, I could feel his cock rub against my cunt. I moaned and leaned my head back. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me back to him.

“Look at me.” He growled and then he pushed slowly inside me.

I gasped and opened my mouth to cry out but no sound came out. His green eyes held my gaze in a strange way, it was so intimate that it made me blush more than his cock hitting my cervix. I shivered when he paused for a moment, he was taking deep and slow breaths.

“Don’t look away.” He whispered as he pulled his hips back slowly and gripped the back of my neck. “Look at me, luv.”

“Yes,” I gasped as he pushed back inside me. “Yes, Halbrand!”

I moaned and fought against the urge to to close my eyes, instead gripping his shoulders as tight as I could to hold him close.

His pupils were so big, his eyes were practically black, his tunic had fallen open and I could see his chest was flushed up to his neck. His thrusts were gaining speed and force and knocking the air from my lungs. All I could do was hold onto him as my eyes welled with tears.

He smiled as he kept thrusting harder and harder and whispered.

“You can close your eyes, I will have you more than once.” He let go of my hair and I leaned my head back as he used one hand to pin my hip still and the other to hold onto the anvil.

I felt another orgasm warm my skin like a hot summer breeze and I dug my nails into his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his hips as best I could.

“Come for me, luv.” He groaned and he thrusted with everything he had. “Come on my cock.”

I cried out and buried my face in his neck as I came harder than I ever had before in my life.

It was like I was pushed into ice cold water, every muscle seized up and yet it was the best feeling.

Halbrand rocked his hips slower as my pussy pulsed around his member and as he grunted and cried out my name, I felt him come deep inside me, letting me feel his warmth drip down my thighs.

I was panting like I ran five miles as he slowly pulled out of me.

He groaned and felt up my body with his rough hands and cupped my face and kissed me with a passion that made me want to pull him back inside me.

He finally broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against mine.

“Stay with me in the Southlands.” He whispered, gently rubbing my face with his thumbs.

“Is that an order?” I smiled and looked up at him.

“Please?” He smirked and kissed me chastely. “Stay with me?”

#fanfic #halbrandedit #halbrand x reader #galadriel x halbrand #rings of power #Halbrand smut #fanfiction #lotr #Sauron #smut #drabble #numenor #middle earth #Southlands #Mordor #smutty #Daddy!Halbrand

[freddief4gb34r]

run baby run, run for your life

«choptop sawyer x georgiano “sticks” [redacted]»

choptop x oc

m/m, hurt/comfort, lowercase intended

he reeked, the smell of alcohol rancid, clogging his nostrils. it was the worst kind, smelling almost stale. his eyes were sharp, almost dark. pitch black. his voice was stuffy, muffled, in a way. he was still obviously shouting. sticks felt a sinking in his gut.

he could see the colors again, the nearly monochrome home, messy and caked in grime, clothes and trash strewn across the floors. he turned to see the brunet, his greasy hair slicked back, his disgustingly sweaty skin approaching. he seemed to stumble over his own feet.

he stepped closer, nearly pinning him to the wall. sticks made an attempt to retaliate, turning away to leave, hearing those hideous words, poison to the ear,

“you’re ju-jus’ a stupid girl.. y’ ain’t know wha-what’s good for y’..”

his feet moved fast, but his hand moved faster. he felt the gruesome tug on his hair, yanking his skull back from his skin, the hair ripping out of their cells.

he then shot up, tears already in his eyes. he gripped the sheets with iron fists, his knuckles turning white. chop was already up, staring at him,

“sti- sticks? y’ okay?”

he was incredibly confused. chop wanted to grab his hand, but something held him back. sticks sat in shock for a moment before sniffling, his hands beginning to shake. he instantly clung to his husband, hyperventilating,

“he- he w-was—“

he stammered, starting to let out choked sobs, more like coughing, trying to swallow,

“i- i couldn’t— no more—“

chop quickly hugged back, patting his back quickly in fluttered smacks,

“no, no, no, shhhhhh..”

he shushed him. he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew sticks shouldn’t be speaking right now. sticks obliged almost instantly, his brain on autopilot as he began to sob into his shoulder. he cried hard, shockingly enough. sticks was never the type to wake up crying.. or cry at all, really.

snot and tears and slobber drowned chop’s bare shoulder, he only had sweatpants on. chop rubbed his back, instantly peppering kisses all over his shoulder and face and neck. sticks hacked through his sobs, squeezing chop so hard he might break a rib.

after a few minutes, chop looked at him,

“wha- what happened?”

he tilted his head. sticks hesitated, not out of fear, but he was struggling to stabilize his breathe,

“i sa- saw him.. again..”

he managed, although his voice was strained. chop’s heart sank, he’d heard vaguely enough of him. even the vague mentions made him sick. he’d heard enough of it, even when it mentioned only generally of what he’d done. chop pulled sticks’ head closer into his collar,

“he’s not here.”

his voice was oddly serious. he leaned down to kiss all over his head, running his hands through his hair gently, his touch light enough to not make him anxious,

“i love you, i love you..”

he repeated over and over as he held him. sticks continued to cry, desperate to be close to his lover in this time of need. he eventually managed to calm himself down, his heart still beating quickly as his mind began to function properly once more. chop continued to love on him, wanting to comfort his husband as much as possible,

“i’m here.”

he never sounded like this, it felt special. sticks felt. special. in the recent events of these memories, he realized how special this felt. chop only ever treated him in a certain way. he meant something to someone. someone genuinely cared about him. he had a lot of people who cared. austin, nubbins, chester, maverick, hell, even.. maybe even drayton. multiple people genuinely cared about him. he was actually loved. he was. loved.

THIS OC BELONGS TO @pierrot-fish !!!! THIS OC IS NOT MINE!!!!!!

#oc #original character #oc x canon #the texas chainsaw massacre #canon x oc #texas chainsaw #texas chainsaw 2 #texas chainsaw oc #friends oc: georgiano #friends oc: sticks #tcm choptop #chop top x reader #chop top sawyer #choptop sawyer #choptop x oc #chop top x oc #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff

[ish4hs]

My Heart Only Aches For You. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

≡;- ꒰ °Husband x Gn!Reader ꒱

╰┈➤ ⋆.ೃ࿔* w: fluff and angst ·˚ ༘

╭──╯ . . . . .ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Baby" he called out with a hint of tiredness in his voice as he enters the house and essentially gaining no reply, bewildered by this he called out once again "Darling? I'm home" he shouts as if trying to get a response from someone in particular. It then hits him, you were nowhere to be found, just for tears to start to stream down the porcelain skin of his. As if he's put into some sort of trans, hands palming the face of his screaming in an agony.

Your partner has been busy setting up your picnic date trying his best to make everything perfect for you, him putting the gingham down the grassy field as he take the picnic basket beside the two of you "love please sit down now! I swear everything looks great" trying to get him to settle down "mhmmm i will, let me just do one more thing" he repond raising his index finger, his eyes seems to illuminate beneath the sun as he grins "And...Done!" He shriek with excitement in his face, he then hurriedly sat down beside you "sooo how's the view?" he asked "hmm..,bad" you teased "Bad? I knew it, we should have went to the beach" He stated shockingly with a hint of regret in his tone, not getting the joke "No stupid" you giggled at his gullibleness "its great to spend time with you in this beautiful scenery, thank you love" giving him a peck in his tender cheeks "I'm glad you loved it, I've been planning this out for these past few days and I'm shock you didn't noticed it" he replied proudly with a smile on his beautiful face "nuh uh, i knew you were planning something out, you were like really suspicious these past few days and beside you suck at lying and you know that" you shrugged rolling your eyes and giggling, as his expression dropped with an embarrassed look on his visage "take that back! I'm not bad at lying" he argued back "yes you are" i teased as smile creeped out at the corner of my lips "no I'm not, then how did you not know im proposing to you today" his words slipped like landslides as you stare in shock, you were too stunned to even say a single word, "I talk too much" he covered his mouth, as both of you and his; heart seems to pound really fast at the same time, it felt like you could hear each others heart by how fast it beat "you're what?" asking, hoping he was telling the truth and this was not some sort of joke by his "This might be the worst proposal ever known to mandkind, but here goes nothing. Love, whenever i talk to you, something inside of me feels wrong i do not know if its the heart of mine or my stomach building up with butterflies. I cannot comprehend how a simple "hi" from you would make me go dizzy in such good way..,You make my cheek heat up in a way i do not know why. Oh to wake up beside you every morning in my life. Cupid seem to walk pass through me anytime i talk to you, what I'm trying to say is. Will you be my forever?" He said genuinely, as he get on his knees holding a maroon engagement ring box.His hand shaking while holding the small box additionally tears starts to build up in one another's eye "yes" you replied stuttering while bawling the eyes of yours, he screamed happily essentially putting the dazzling ring on your third finger as he hurriedly ran towards you to embrace the warmth body of yours "How lucky i am to find someone like you" kissing your temple "i love you more than anything and anyone in this universe" holding the back of your head as he kiss your forehead happily.

"please stay with me.." he cried out "oh to lose you will be the death of mine" he roar in misery not letting go of your soft silk like hands "it'd be great if you stop crying my love, i can't handle to see you cry in such agony" you replied softly "but to lose you in this lunatic world is comperable as losing the sanity of mine" he dispute "but you cannot simply sit here and cry in an agony on me forever" you stated, tears flowing down "But for you are supposed to be my Eternity" he bawled out as he stammer his words "NO PLEASE" he screamed in distress as the person who they loved endlessly stopped breathing. "DOCTOR, ANYONE PLEASE HELP US" he yelp for help dashing outside the room to look for anyone who can help him save his beloved. "CLEAR" the doctor screamed as the other nurses lead him outside the room with force "LET GO OF ME IDIOTS, LET ME IN" he screech the nurse eventually need to hold him with force "No please please" as he try to get out of their graps. He watch the doctor get out of the room where his once other half stayed "I'm sorry, we did everything in our might" the doctor said with devastation. Everything seemed to go blurry for him, the time had stop in him; for where his life used to depend on is no longer with him.

He sat in the gingham where they once sat on, staring in the night sky as if he's trying to find something in the above "7 years without you is like a living nightmare, i tried to look everywhere where i could atleast find a resemblance of you just even the slightest but it looks like you are nowhere to be found." he stared blankly in the starry night presumably questioning the heavens above "Billions of star in the sky yet, you will always shine the brightest my dearest." tears flowing in his beautiful visage "We were unique because only we have ever felt this type of love. Oh how can i forget about you? Si mi corazón solo duele por ti" _________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

#x reader #angst #reader angst #fluff #x reader fluff #sad #happy #english is not my first language #husband #love #gn reader #gn!reader

[universestreasures]

@blasterdiablo (Yet another Club drabble for an idea I had to get out that you do not have to respond to but tagging you anyway LOL)

Dreams were a weird thing. At times, you could wake up remembering every thing in vivid detail as if it really happened to you. Others, you could recall nothing at all what you saw. Though, surely the dream Asaka was having right now would fall into the former category, a dream that seemed so intense and real it was as if it was a memory.

The college student finds herself in an unfamiliar location, one where silver weapons decorated the walls and It was a dark space that's only light came from the few candles from fixtures on the walls. She shifts her head to further examine the place, quickly realizing she wasn't alone in this strange room. Yes, with her right now was...

"Ren...? What are you doing here? And where is here?" She questions, being unable to get a good look at him. Much of his body, other than his red locks, were being concealed by the darkness that surrounded them, after all. Slowly, she approaches him, being careful where she steps, but eventually stops once she makes it in front of him and is able to see him clearly as the room suddenly becomes brighter with the addition of more candles being lit.

And what she sees before her icey blue hues is an image she never wished to see. It was a sight that can only be best described as her worst fear brought to life. What she sees is her love, the person she most treasured in this world, covered in blood from head to toe. His eyes were wide, his body covered in bruises and slash marks that could be seen through unfamiliar clothes, and most shockingly of all, his stomach had been peirced with a black sword, one that resembled the one Ren had hung up over their bed in their bedroom.

Worst yet...that sword wasn't stuck in there. No, it was being held there by something. As soon as Asaka's gazes follows the end blade to the handle...she realizes just what or rather who was holding it. The one who had presumably stabbed Ren, who presumably caused him great suffering was...was...

Herself.

"W-What?! This...This can't...This can't be! I wouldn't...! I couldn't...! I'd never...!"

It's then that his body finally limps and falls on her, bringing both her and him down to the cold stone ground. His blood now stains her own body, both now covered in the red substance that to vampires symbolized life and to humans symbolized death. A hand is swiftly placed on his neck, checking it for the sign of a pulse. However, it just as quickly goes limp as soon as she feels nothing coming from it, a coldness now surging through her body like it had just been hit with a winter breeze.

Ren was...dead because of her.

Ren had been killed...because of her.

Ren had been killed...by her.

Just as she always feared might happen to him one day...

"No..."

"No..."

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Her cries of agony echo throughout the dark room and back in her shared dorm room with Ren. They were so loud that they were probably heard by those in the floors below them, such as Aichi and Kai. Her eyes then shoot open, sweat dropping down her face as she quickly sits up and breaths in and out heavily trying to process everything. Though, her concern quickly switched from her own well being to search around her room, looking for the person who she had just witnessed being killed by her own hands.

However, Ren wasn't...in the room with her. She checked the closet. She checked their balcony. She even checked under the bed to see if he was trying to prank her or something. He wasn't there. He wasn't anywhere she looked. And that fact...made her body start to shake, Asaka's knees buckling as she sinks to the floor in the center of their shared space.

Asaka had a reputation of being strong and beautiful, the person who knew how to hold it together and get things done. She was the one who started the Pale Moon Club in the first place. If it wasn't for her efforts, her kind wouldn't have a sanctuary in this human-run university. The club president she prided herself on being was far from the horrified woman who was on the floor now, the one who was slowly starting to cry as panic and worry took over regarding the current fate of her beloved human.

"Ren...Ren you can't be...You can't be...dead... All because of me...Because of a miserable creature like me...A creature who doesn't deserve you...or the love you've given me..."

~

#💎 Crystalized Hidden Gems (Drabble) #💎 Assassin Treasure (Asaka Narumi) #💎 King Of The Blasters Of Darkness (Blasterdiablo) #💎 Assassin's Hidden Sanctuary For The Cursed Crimson (Asaka Pale Moon Club AU) #tw long post #tw blood #tw vampire #tw death #tw dark imagery #tw killing #(A Chan getting Luquier dreams cause Kai Aichi and Ren cant have all the flashback fun #(MY HORT FOR POOR AH CHAN I CANNOT #(I ICONED HER FIGHT WITH REN IN V CAUSE THOSE EXPRESSIONS JUST FIT THIS WELL CAUSE OMG THE ANGST #(Like i said before you dont gotta respond to this if you don't want to its a drabble lol but if you want a asaren warmup here #(I FIGURE RENS LIKE GETTING A MIDNIGHT SNACK OR IS IN THE BATHROOM OR SOMETHING IS JUST GONNA COME BACK TO ASAKA A MESS #(WE HAVNT WRITTEN REN COMFORTING A CHAN YET SO THATS ANOTHER THING WE CAN DO HERE #(IF YOU WANNA RESPOND TO THIS

[hexiewrites]

✨ 2022 ao3 wrapped ✨

thanks @flashyysins for the tag!!! this is so fun!

Works Published: 8

Word Count: 178,948 [jesus, that's only since august!]

Hits: 50,379 [I'm literally! that's such a big number wow!!!]

Bookmarks: 1,829

Most popular by kudos: so, I don't want to repeat the same fic a ton on here. it's technically same as it ever was, but that's also my most hits. so my second most popular by kudos is: no telling where you might be swept off to - explicit, 5,908 words, basically PWP

Most hits: this one makes sense, since it was my first steddie fic and also my only multichap for a while! same as it ever was - explicit, 49,574 words, a story of losing each other and coming back together

Longest: shockingly, it's my newest! make this inn our own - mature, 65,162 words, my steddie hallmark au all about finding your way back to the path you should have taken in life

Shortest: another earlier fic, I love this one for being my first in Eddie's POV but it is less popular than my others. I thought I knew what love was (what did I know?) - teen, 4,893 words, eddie drooling over steve during a series of pool parties

Most comments: it's once again make this inn our own! (also i almost cry like every time i get a comment just so yall know, you make me SO happy)

Fic that made me cry: I'm not gonna lie, I wrote this one just to give Steve a chance to have a breakdown but I cried a lot in the process of it: i met your ghost (he followed me) - explicit, 30,267 words, Steve finds Eddie's ghost... except, maybe he isn't so much of a ghost after all?

Fic that made me smile: I'm not gonna lie, I had SUCH a blast writing this one. it was such a silly concept and every time I remembered what I was doing I chuckled about it, and the comments on it have truly made my LIFE: there'll be a riot (cause I know you) - explicit, 10,078 words, eddie as a rockstar who has some unhinged matty-healy vibes with steve as the fan who just really wants to bang him

Gifts: I haven't done any gifts for anyone yet (one is in the works, unsure if it'll be done pre-2023!) but I RECEIVED the best gift: save a horse, ride an ex-jock by @riality-check and if you read it you'll get a hint as to what my gift back will be ;)

Events: the only event I did this year was @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Winter Fic Challenge, but I had SO much fun! one prompt ("are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?") inspired my longest steddie fic (the inn fic!) and my second longest fic EVER. I loved getting to do this event and I'm excited to read everyone elses entries now that mine's done!

tagging: (with absolutely NO pressue!) both ria and lex who have already been tagged, @reindeerrobin @maxinemaxmayfield @hotcocoaharrington @withacapitalp @horsegirleddiemunson @bonitabreezy @toburnup and anyone else who wants to join in! tag me back so I can see yours!

#ask game #tag game #this was so fun! #i loved getting to go through my stats #i also was so worried one fic would dominate this whole list but actually it only showed up in two entries #idk i just like to spread the love around all my babies yknow? #also I'm truly fucking SHOCKED that i have published 178k SINCE AUGUST #ive written probably 20k more than that that hasnt seen the light of day #which means almost 200k in FIVE MONTHS #jesus #can someone check on me like #hyperfocus what is you doin bby #anyways #i love you guys and i loved doing this and i can't wait to see everyone elses! #hex writes stuff #meta

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Tear It All Down (Part 3) - fic

Characters: Jon Kent, kind of: Damian Wayne, Jay Nakamura, Nika, Conner Hawke, Colin Wilkes-ish Pairing: future jondami, kinda: jonjay, nikadami, colindami, connerdami (idk what those ships are called ehehe) Summary: Jon comes to his own realization about this whole mess. And the fact of the matter is: someone’s heart is going to break. A/N: Sorry if this sucks. I was bottling up a lot of emotions this week and I just needed to frantically let them out. Reminder everyone’s 18-20s. Nika just went back to Japan, and all of Damian’s other lil flirts are casual, but that’ll be talked about in the last chapter whenever that comes about. Bruce definitely knows about what went down between Jon and Damian and he absolutely laid into Clark about it haha.

Ao3

~~

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that he’d done what was asked of him. He gave Damian space. Days and weeks and months of space. And Damian still wouldn’t speak to him. Avoided him when they were both at the Hall of Justice. Sent one of his brothers if there was an emergency in one of their usual haunts.

He never answered Jon’s texts. Never reached out with messages of his own. Gave him tight-lipped smiles when he had to at public gatherings. Batman must have found out what happened, because even he got in the way sometimes. If Jon saw Damian across the Watchtower bridge and turned to walk towards Robin, Batman would get in the way. Distract him with some other task in the complete opposite direction.

He was losing his best friend. And it wasn’t fair.

He should have listened to Maya that day. Respected her wishes. He shouldn’t have gone to Damian’s safe house. He shouldn’t have pushed the issue.

At least she was speaking to him again. Not often, not nearly as much as before. But she didn’t hate him. Let him apologize in person, and buy her dinner.

She didn’t talk about Damian a lot, only when he’d made her mad. She did think it was funny, though, when Jon told her that the only way he heard about Damian these days was through Kon, who heard it from Tim.

A big, dumb game of telephone, just so he could know his best friend was okay.

She admitted that it was kind of what he deserved, and he couldn’t argue with that.

But then – then – to top it all off, Damian suddenly started going out more. Not more as Robin – no, he actually seemed to be decreasing his vigilante patrols – but more as Damian. Dami Wayne, out in public, out where the paparazzi could see him, out with people.

People Jon didn’t know. People Jon had never met, or been told about.

For a few weeks, he was seen exclusively with some girl with shockingly white hair, and interesting, skull-like markings on her face. An old friend, Maya had told him, that he met in some death tournament years prior. She’d literally ripped his heart out. Her name was Nika.

But Jon didn’t really care about all that. What he cared about was that Damian was allowing the public to see him with her. Allowing the public to see him holding her hand as they walked down the street. To watch as she held him close and kissed playfully at his nose.

And oh, he would laugh when she did that. Giggle like a teenager as they held their faces together and whispered secrets that the world couldn’t hear over the sound of camera clicks.

Jon…it wasn’t fair. Jon never got him to laugh like that. Jon never saw him so happy.

Once, he was in Gotham when Nika was, passed by the Dami Wayne show as the two sat at a table outside a café and the citizens of the city snapped pictures on their phones.

Jon took out his phone too. But not to take a picture. To send Damian a text. Just a simple hello.

He watched Damian glance at the phone when it buzzed on the table. Watched as his lips twitched into a frown when he saw who the message was from, then turned the phone over and go back to his conversation.

That…Jon went home that day and cried. Jay held him while he did, and never asked why. Jon doesn’t think he’d be able to explain it anyway.

(And Jay was perfect like that.)

But then that Nika disappeared. The Gotham media went wild, but Damian didn’t pay any mind, continuing his newfound public life, now with a different person on his arm every other time he went out. Always holding their hand, always laughing.

There was a man that Damian appeared with, and kept around longer, much like Nika, that he seemed almost protective of. He would actually try to block the paparazzi this time, and even cussed out a few photographers when they questioned why his ginger companion ‘dressed so poor.’

And with him, Damian would initiate the affection. Damian Wayne! Initiating public displays of affection!

But he would. They’d stand on a street corner, staring into each other’s eyes. Then Damian would lean forward and kiss the corner of this red head’s mouth. The red head would smile and engulf Damian in his arms. Damian would stay there, collapse into the embrace and let himself be held.

It…it hurt Jon’s heart. Because it wasn’t fair. Because he just missed his best friend so much. Wished he could hold him like that. Make him feel that safe.

The worst, though. Oh, the worst moment of this.

He was at home, with Jay. The two curled up on the sofa, watching some hideous, low-budget thing. It wasn’t a conscious thought – hadn’t been since he was ten. He was always listening for the heartbeats of those he cared about.

So when he heard Damian’s stutter, his instant thought was panic. That Damian was in trouble. Damian was dying.

Without a word, he leapt from the couch, practically throwing Jay to the floor, and followed the sound as quickly as he could.

It was the same safe house that Jon had ambushed Damian at prior, and all the terrible scenarios ran through his head. Damian had been attacked, had been captured, had dragged himself home half-dying to lick his wounds or die in private.

He had just dropped lightly onto that balcony and he immediately froze.

There was a curtain across that sliding door that he’d entered last time, but it wasn’t fully closed. He could still see into the living room from where he stood.

So he had an easy view of one Conner Hawke, looming shirtless over an equally debauched-looking Damian on the sofa, knee shifting between Damian’s thighs as he sucked a hickey onto Damian’s throat and teased him with gentle touches across his torso.

Jon gasped as he backed up in surprise, face heating up instantly as the sounds Damian made reached his ears.

Get away, get away, get away now…!

In his haste to escape, Jon tripped on the balcony railing, falling the few stories into an alleyway dumpster before taking back off into the air. Damian’s heart palpitations didn’t waver, so he had a feeling he hadn’t been sensed.

Which was good for a lot of reasons.

Good because, wow, that would have been embarrassing. Because Damian would have been livid and really never would have spoken to him again. Because he’d heard of Conner Hawke and his skills, and the man might have killed him.

(And right now, Jon would have let him.)

But mostly, it was good that no one saw him, because right now he was panicking. He was beyond panicking. Because this? This.

This was just. Not. Fair.

Because yeah, he was embarrassed over what he’d just stumbled upon. He didn’t mean to be a voyeur. But the problem was that the embarrassment wasn’t the first thought he had.

His first thought at that scene in front of him was longing.

He’d wished it was him on top of Damian like that, shoving him into the cushions. Him making Damian make those noises. Him leaving bruises along Damian’s skin.

His first thought was that he was jealous. Of Conner Hawke. Of Nika. Of that ginger man.

Because he’d already convinced himself of that, hadn’t he? Yeah, he was jealous – because they had his best friend. They were making his best friend laugh. He wanted to make his best friend laugh.

But now he realized it wasn’t so simple. That maybe it wasn’t so platonic.

Just like with Maya before, it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Oh, god. Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgodohgod-

He crashed back onto the rooftop of his apartment and stood there for a moment with his face in his hands.

This…was not good. This felt weird. No wonder Damian wanted him gone when he’d found out about his feelings. No wonder he was so heartbroken when Damian sent him away. So obsessed with watching him ever since. Did that mean he was crushing on Damian long before this whole fiasco? But then who said anything about a crush? Why was the word crush being thrown around? He loved Damian – but of course he loved Damian, Damian was his best friend. Always has been, always will be. Is that why he missed his crush? Explained it away as something else? Oh, there’s the word crush again. Was he just a big idiot? Maya said Damian had been in love with him for years – was Jon in love with him for just as long? Was he in love with him? Did he just repress all his own emotions or miss all the signs because he’s a big fucking meathead idio-

“Everything okay?” Jon near jumped out of his skin at the voice, and spun around so fast he made himself dizzy. It was Jay. Sweet, perfect, patient, understanding Jay who had never done anything wrong to Jon, standing there with two steaming mugs. He smiled softly. “Sorry – I heard you land.”

Jon felt his shoulders slump as Jay approached. He took the offered mug, and reached out to gently cup Jay’s face with his other hand. Jay leaned into the touch, kissing at Jon’s wrist.

(Already – it just didn’t feel the same. Didn’t feel right. Not like that fleeting image of himself over Damian on the couch, clothes ripped off as he descended to-)

“Yeah.” He lied, soul twisting again. Because he knew, instantly. He knew someone’s heart was going to break soon, and at this very moment Jon wasn’t quite sure yet whose. “Everything’s great.”

…It just wasn’t fucking fair.

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne

[heartofspells]

Little secret drabble I wrote for @monkeychan1112. She gave me permission to post it here. Prompt was Remus and Sirius and their first overnight babysitting adventure with Harry.

Sirius is not panicking. He's not. He's completely fine. There's absolutely nothing wrong, especially if you exclude the squalling infant raging up at him from his tiny cot. Sirius stares down at Harry in trepidation. He's not sure what's wrong. He's been fed, rocked, sang to (badly, but surely a two-month-old doesn't judge so harshly), patted, and changed (nightmare among nightmares; what had James been thinking?). Sirius gazes at the flailing infant, tiny hands gripped into fierce, angry, upset fists, face scrunched up unhappily, looking like the most miserable thing to ever exist, as though all the horrors of the world have rained down upon his small, shockingly chaotic head at once.

Sirius leans down and scoops the baby up, cradling him in his arms and swinging him as he'd seen Lily doing on so many occasions. It doesn't work, Harry continuing to cry and scream, Sirius wondering where the lung capacity and decibel comes from within the miniscule, little body.

"Wah, wah. Yes, Harry, I know," says Sirius desperately. His eyes shift around. He is not panicking. "You'd think you'd be tired by now. I'm tired. What do you want? I don’t know. I can – fuck. Wait, no, shit! No, fuck!" Sirius sags, defeated, mind scrambling for options. "Bloody hell."

Remus wanders into the room then, eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, nearly disappearing into his fringe. "Bit early to be teaching him curses, don't you think? Lily is going to roast you on a spit if his first word is something he learned from your rubbish heap of a mouth, as she calls it."

Sirius rounds on Remus, bouncing Harry in his arms, trying to soothe him. He feels ridiculous. His eyes are wide and wild, hair flying about his face. Remus blinks at him when confronted.

"What do I do, Moony?" begs Sirius desperately.

Remus shrugs one shoulder, almost casually. Sirius nearly gapes at him, would throw something at him if it weren't for the screaming child in his arms and that fact that there's nothing soft enough readily within his grasp.

"Is he hungry?" asks Remus, looking down at Harry curiously.

"No, I fed him already."

"Nappy wet?"

"No."

"Needs to burp?"

"For fu – Merlin's sake, no!" cries Sirius. "I've done all that already. He's had everything. He should be perfectly fine, except he's clearly not and I think I might be about to scream with him, Remus, so help me or you'll be helping yourself for a solid month, I swear it."

"Such a threat," murmurs Remus caustically, the corners of his mouth twitching up in faint amusement that causes Sirius to glare. He shrugs again. "There are worse things in the world, you know?" Sirius' glare deepens, darkens, and Remus huffs out a small laugh, motioning with his head towards Harry. "Try singing to him again."

"You bloody sing to him!" exclaims Sirius, which only increases the infant's cries and wails. Sirius winces. "You're better at it than I am. Maybe that's the whole reason for this mess. Maybe he hates my voice."

"It wasn't that bad…" attempts Remus, though his face says otherwise, but Sirius ignores it and the words, panic clawing up his throat, desperation settling deeper, his voice rising higher in pitch as he continues speaking over the other man.

"What if he hates my voice, Remus? What if he hates me? He's not meant to hate me! I need him to love me because I love him. Why did James and Lily think this was a good idea? When have I ever been around children? How am I meant to know what to do with one? This is a disaster. They'll never trust me again. Why did they think it was a good idea to leave him with us for an entire night, Remus? Why?"

Remus' face has steadily grown more expressive as Sirius has babbled and ranted. He looks bewildered, a little put off, exasperated. "Apparently, I'm not the problem here," he mumbles in return. Sirius releases a pitiful sound from his throat, still bouncing, the noise vibrating with the movements. Remus holds his hands up in the air, pressing for calm. "I'm only having you on, Sirius. You've been with Harry plenty of times. We both have. They trust you, and they're not going to stop. Harry's just having a bad night. None of this is about you, you know it isn't." Remus holds his arms out. "Here, let me have him and I'll try singing."

Sirius glances between his lover and the baby in his arms, turning away slightly with a sudden movement. "No," he breathes out sharply, not biting but still panicked. "He's my godson, I can do it. I should do it. I can do it."

"There's no pleasing you," grumbles Remus under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Sirius shoots him a cynical look but tries to sing to Harry, attempting one of the songs Remus has always sung to him. It's not smooth, not registering at a good, soothing cadence as it should be. It should be beautiful, because Remus always makes it so, but in Sirius' scratchy voice, made worse by the stress eating him alive from the inside out, it's rough and jagged and miserable sounding. And it doesn't work, again, Sirius all but deflating.

"Harry, please," he begs. "I don't know what to do, sprog. Help me out a little here. Don't you want to just sleep?"

Remus' head suddenly perks up, a slow smile spreading over his face that gives Sirius the urge to throw something again. The man's hands are on Sirius' arms then, pushing him from the room and down the hall into James' and Lily's bedroom.

"Remus, what the fu – what are you doing?" demands Sirius.

"I've got an idea," he replies. "Just trust me. Lay down on the bed."

Sirius' eyes shift over him for a long moment, sizing him up, trying to figure out where he's leading this. "We are not having sex. Are you mad?"

Remus throws his head back and groans in exasperation. "Sirius," he huffs out, looking back at him again. "Just do it. Please."

Sirius' mouth draws up a little in uncertainty, but he finally does as he's told, walking over to the bed and stretching out along one side, Harry still held closely to his chest. Remus settles on the opposite side, pressing in close, facing them, the still crying and flailing infant resting against him as well until he's sandwiched between their bodies. Remus watches Harry as Sirius stares at Remus in silent, begging question that doesn't get answered until the baby begins to slowly calm, eventually falling silent, movements stilling between them.

Remus looks up at Sirius suddenly, a large smile spreading over his face as Sirius gapes down at Harry, the boy quickly falling into sleep. He shakes his head, glancing at Remus in amazement.

"Un-bloody-believable," he hisses. "How the hell did you know to do that?"

Remus shrugs one shoulder slowly, trying not to jostle the mattress too much, keeping Harry lulled into his sleep. "I just took a guess. I had no idea if it would work, but I'm betting Lily and James do this more than they let on."

Sirius shakes his head again. "You're amazing," he declares quietly. "How are you always right?"

Remus smiles at him. "I'm just gifted," he teases, and Sirius snorts.

"You're something, all right," he mutters, his eyes shifting over Remus' marvelous face. Sirius huffs out a tired, relieved breath of air and lets his head fall to the pillow. "Fuck, I'm exhausted."

Remus' hand lifts, fingers trailing gently over Sirius' cheek before pushing back into his hair, guiding it away from his forehead. "I think you've earned some sleep, baby," he whispers fondly.

Sirius hums. "I'll kick Prongs in the morning if he tries to root us out, I promise I will. Wanker." His gaze drops back down to the now peacefully sleeping Harry, a besotted, tender smile stretching out wide. Sirius looks back up at Remus. "So, you want five of these, right? I think five would be good."

Remus only groans again.

Psst! There’s a part two. 

#wolftstar #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #baby harry #panicking sirius #exasperated remus #drabble #sirius x remus #sirius/remus #my writing

[anthonyvillarreal]

Confession

My name is Manuel Anthony Villarreal, and I've got a confession to make:

This is a mostly complete of what I consider my masterpiece: from the years Jan/Feb 2019 - Aug 2020, I maliciously gaslit a married woman. I started by leading her to believe I was in the process of getting a divorce while simultaneously learning about her husband in order to attempt to mimic him. I even change my radio stations to music I think her husband is into.

I scope her out at work for a couple months making notes of Tshirts she wears (bands, movies, pop culture). Then she wears the perfect sweatshirt "Marine Corps" that's my in. I start it slow just friendly texting about giving her kid martial arts lessons, slowly chipping away at her confidence in her relationship.

I get a work training gig out of town where they book me a hotel room for a week. Boom! I tell her to come by and I can teach her some stuff, I mean she knows whats up, but not quite ready to screw over her husband for some guy she barely knows ya know. I'm able to do a kind of forced awkward kissing thing the first day, but she is definitely feeling moral conflict.

A couple days later, I get her back over, and know what needs to be done. I say "take off your clothes" once the door to the room closed and it was just us. This works because not only am I planting the idea of suggestion, but for a woman alone with a stranger in a hotel room she walked into voluntarily: what might he do if I don't.

Ill be honest it doesn't go great (the Viagra hadn't quite kicked in yet) I knew I really needed traumatic emotional impact at this point so then proceeded to (without her knowing!) let myself go inside of her. I do this in order to create confusion, and fear in my victims. She cried in the shower washing me out of her. That put a smile on my face.

Dude I even gave this girl Scabies I got from one of my other side pieces, and convinced her she got it from the gym.

I let her stew in fear for days before deciding I had broken her, and told her I was sterile (A lie obviously). But I made sure I went inside her every time after that, her soul died a little every time. I could’ve easily worn a condom, but it was so much fun watching her crumble. (Side note: she actually told him all these details that’s how insane close these nut jobs are) I mean can you imagine telling your spouse that.

Over the course of the next year I progressively subjected her to more aggressive and violent sexual acts until she was no longer much of a person at all. She literally repeatedly bled all over my apartment obviously without my wife’s knowledge(from fingers being so roughly used (never even used lube) that it was actually causing urinary tract damage, and after I finished with one hand I'd make her let me use the other - no matter how much pain she was in.)

Truth be told I found her to be pretty dang boring after I ruined her, so I started losing interest, but she well you know was kind of invested at this point. I had been giving her Adderall (provided by the Veterans Affairs Office for my "ADHD" lol) - they call them happy pills for a reason folks. Very powerful at creating strong emotional attachments with little effort. It's shockingly easily directed most people can with the slightest of tools.

I broke her so completely she betrayed her husband to me in every way: body, mind, soul. She sent me videos, messages, and photos.

I either thought:

1. he was either such a dumbass he didn’t realize his slut wife was cheating when she coming home wasted 3 nights a week with no explanation.

2. He knew she was a POS bimbo, and would be glad to be rid of her.

Turned out there was a third option I didn’t consider:

3. He had genuinely been her closest friend, not the bullshit people just say, since he was 15 years old. He actually fucking respected this cheating slut. He saw her as an actual person. He must be the dumbest person alive.

At this point I feel like I should mention we both served in the Marine Corps (her husband and myself) I used that as my way in; A way for her to immediately feel comfortable. “Semper Fi” my butt lol. I mean turns out he’s not completely dumb: he literally calls out my playbook: Narcissistic Affair- he shows her how I initially mirrored her(changed my radio stations to stuff she’d like, studied pop culture shirts she wore, etc.), the the love-bombing, devaluing and so on. MFs got me cold. Fortunately, he underestimated how powerful breaking someone down can be:)

I felt bad for him figured I’d show him how wrong he was. For the next 5 months I had HIS wife chasing me! Every time he caught a message or a phone log I thought this is it: He’s cutting her loose, this MF, you know what he does he doubles gives her a fourth chance at this point, so now I’ve had it.

I set this DB up when she’s drunk texting on their anniversary knowing she’s too messed up to get it or delete it making sure he’ll see it. He does. He loses it; lays hands on her. I make her send photos of it to me. The ultimate betrayal. This dude still hanging saying if she needs to press charges then he’ll accept them no contest.

No contest!!!! I’m like bro you should have killed this girl by now; I’m trying to show you! You got 2 kids. You at home watching the young one, and this hoe out here getting boned in parking lots, and public beaches for what. Anyway I make her get him under control because he starts showing up everywhere: my house, my work, my wife’s work, even where I take other girls. I figure we let things cool down for awhile and we keep the side action on the DL.

She Rick-rolled me. I don’t know if she did it on purpose, or what. But she told him the exact dates of a meetup at a place paid for by work. He was able to get corporate to cut ties with me, so I ended up stringing her along for awhile longer, but ended up cutting it to avoid that psycho.

Listen, I ruined this chicks sense of self, her marriage, I mean I ruined her life even got secretly recorded video, photos, audio that I can use against her if they ever try me.

He’s tried to get at me a couple times, but I just make my daughter, brother, or ex-wife threaten him with legal harassment lol. Can you imagine how pissed that makes him … I literally destroyed his life for no other reason that it was entertaining to me, and now I’m threatening legal action.

IMO it’s on him for trying to rehabilitate that hoe. Wasted both our time. Just thought I throw this out there to the boys ya know. I mean I’m in the right here, right?

I know some on you will find this story shocking, or disturbing, but please take time to consider the skill and artistry it takes to not only manipulate someone into forsaking their morals and values, but I also made sure she was complicit in essentially destroying decades worth of lives lived and loved. For absolutely nothing. That is called the prestige.

Either way as a wise man or was it a foolish man who thought himself wise either way: “The truth shall set you free.”

#Cheating

#brosbeforehoes

#cuck #badbunny #loves#usmcveteran#SemperFidelis

#affair #crazy #evil #bad people

[dragonthusiast]

Grow the Bond Chapter 2

Shockingly the rest of the day went by relatively smoothly, but Petre was certain that was about to change because it was time for dinner. If Clarith had gone to Ainreth to confirm that Petre actually was his second-in-command, then that meant she would no doubt spread that information around, and Petre wasn’t sure what kind of reaction it would get them.

It was certainly seen as a much less desirable position than being the second of any of the other generals, but it was still a position of power that some might be jealous of, especially considering Petre’s age. Then again, many of the people in their regiment had already tried to fill the role and had given up on it relatively quickly, so perhaps they would receive pity rather than jealousy.

Petre kept their head down as usual as they entered the dim main hall, the building that served as everything from a mess hall to a place for everyone to congregate for briefings and announcements. The building was full already, the noise of everyone talking drowning out everything else, which made it very easy for Petre to slip inside and take their place in the queue, their wooden bowl in hand. They ran their finger over the silhouettes of mushrooms carved into it. Petre had done that a long while back during one very uneventful day as a joke centered around the fact that half of what the soldiers ate included mushrooms due to Petre being able to grow them easily. But they did like how the bowl looked like this now.

Unsurprisingly, when it was Petre’s turn to receive their portion of soup, mushrooms were floating in the brown liquid. They wondered which ones the cook had used this time. Petre had grown several types for him, just to keep the taste a little varied, despite their difficult situation here more than a day’s travel on horseback away from any kind of village or settlement. The cook was another sproutkeeper, the kind that could control plants, which at least ensured some of the vegetables were fresh.

Petre sat down at one of the tables, ignoring everyone around them, but they barely managed to put the spoon of the steaming soup to their mouth before someone sat down next to them a bit too roughly, making them spill the soup back in the bowl.

“Is it true you’re the Daybreaker’s second now?” came the excited, very loud voice of Enlin. Petre sighed, looking over at her as she brushed her short, dark hair off her face. Enlin was basically the only person they talked to on a regular basis, though not entirely by choice. Enlin and Petre had joined the army around the same time, they were both similar ages, and so Enlin had inserted herself into Petre’s life. Not that they minded, though they wouldn’t mind if she were less loud.

Everyone around Petre was now looking at them, of course, thanks to Enlin’s outburst. Wonderful. So much for staying unnoticed.

“Yes,” Petre admitted, staring down into their soup even as everyone around them started talking at once, their voices blending together.

“No fair!” one of the soldiers sitting on the opposite side of the table cried. “I’ve been here longer. I should have had a go by now.”

“Maybe our dear general doesn’t like you,” the woman next to the soldier mocked him, which prompted a series of insults being flung around.

Petre sighed again. They were going to get a headache at this rate. Everyone was always so loud. “I don’t know why I was chosen. Ask Captain Fer-Kyntar, she came to me with the offer.”

The soldier who had complained first laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, no way. She’s scary.”

Petre frowned at him while everyone around them laughed. They would never have thought to call the captain scary, just very stoic and hard to read.

“What?!” came a shout from the other side of the room. Petre gritted their teeth, staring back down at their soup. They knew very well who had said that, and they wanted nothing to do with the man. Hantyr was the person who tended to harass Petre the most, and they wanted none of it right now.

But of course, as usual, Hantyr didn’t care that Petre hadn’t gotten to eat yet.

“This weakling of a traitor is now the Daybreaker’s lieutenant?” Hantyr sneered as he came over, now standing behind Petre. Petre didn’t react, finally taking a sip of their soup just to busy themselves with something. They couldn’t taste it though, their tongue only able to take notice of how uncomfortably warm it was. At least their food wouldn’t go cold before Hantyr finally left Petre alone, so they could eat.

“Sweet, merciful moon, would you shut up and go away, Hantyr?” the man sitting next to Petre said, glaring up at Hantyr. Petre appreciated that someone was willing to stand up for them, but they were too used to this happening that they could barely feel anything other than tiredness.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that it’s the Orinovans getting all the good spots?” Hantyr asked, his voice dripping with venom. “Since Varilik took over—”

Petre was springing up the moment those words left Hantyr’s mouth. They hadn’t even meant to do it, the sheer power of their pent-up anger bringing them right into the conflict. They wanted to take it back the next second now that they were standing there, staring up at Hantyr who was over a head taller than them, but Petre stayed rooted to the spot. “The High Herald is chosen by vote. He didn’t take over. Please, take your conspiracy theories somewhere else.”

Hantyr stared at Petre for a second, his gray eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly covered it up with an amused smirk. “Well, well, the little boy has some kind of spine after all. Kind of.”

“Just leave them alone, Hantyr,” Enlin snapped, though she sounded too concerned for her words to have the necessary strength behind them. Petre appreciated it, anyway.

“I’ll leave him alone once he goes back where he belongs.”

Petre almost punched him then, their fists clenched at their sides, but they managed to keep their arms where they were. If Petre escalated this, they would be the one getting punished. That was what Hantyr wanted, after all. It had worked out for him before. Petre wouldn’t give him the satisfaction again.

A few more people voiced their protests at this, insulting Hantyr, but the man was unaffected, his hand shooting out to Petre’s wrist all of a sudden, so fast Petre couldn’t react in time to stop him from grabbing their bracelet and pulling it off their wrist.

“Why would a real Lys-Akkarian wear something like this? Huh?”

Petre glared up at Hantyr, barely resisting hitting him. But aside from fury, fear was now also spreading through them. They couldn’t lose the bracelet. It was a gift from their great-grandmother, and they treasured it. “Give that back.”

Hantyr raised the bracelet over his head, making the metal charms clink against each other, his smirk growing even sharper than before. “What, too short to reach?”

Petre felt something in them snap. But before they could strike, a blinding flash of light flew over their head, hitting Hantyr in the eyes. The man went down with a painted shout, his hands thrown over his face.

With wide eyes, Petre stared down at Hantyr for a second in shock before whirling around, only to see Ainreth walking over to him. And while that would explain the light, Petre didn’t quite understand why Ainreth had done this.

“Thousand suns, I think I’m blind!” cried Hantyr, blinking as he rubbed his eyes, his lips drawn into a horrified grimace.

“That was hardly one sun, not a thousand,” Ainreth grumbled, folding his arms over his chest as he stopped next to Petre, frowning down at Hantyr. There was no hint of amusement or humor in neither his voice nor his expression. “Be glad it’s very temporary.”

Then Ainreth looked at Petre, one eyebrow quirked up. “Does this happen a lot?”

Petre shrugged, but Enlin was more than ready to give her opinion on things. “Yes, sir, though it’s usually not this much. And—”

“Meet me in my tent tomorrow morning, Petre.”

Petre nodded, wanting to ask why but somehow too intimidated to. They weren’t even sure why, but they couldn’t get a word out right now. Not when they thought about what had just happened properly. Ainreth had just attacked a soldier on Petre’s behalf. That wasn’t allowed, even when a general did it. Even though there were very few people willing to report the Daybreaker for anything—and even if they did, Ainreth would likely not face any punishment—Petre was still stunned that Ainreth had done that for them.

They certainly couldn’t remember Ainreth ever doing something like this before.

“Someone get him out of here, please,” Ainreth said as he stepped around Hantyr. “And get me some schnapps.”

As some of the other soldiers helped Hantyr on his feet, Petre quickly picked up their bracelet, pulling it onto their wrist again and tightening the straps. Maybe it would be easier just to not wear it in public, but that felt like a betrayal of their family.

With their shoulder low, Petre sat down again, finally getting to eat the soup. If only they could taste it over the chaos of thoughts in their head.

#my writing #original writing #writeblr #amwriting #nightstar series

[yangjeongin]

welcome home❣️

#hwang hyunjin #stray kids #bystay #createskz #staysource #idolsincedits #hyunjin #eyestrain #*gif #*ccarly #*hyunjin #*carly:hyunjin #*series:hyunjuly #TADAH...been working on this all month Waiting for the hyuntent #and we got it...tbh i should wait until the end of july but i'm too impatient/excited asdfasdgd #pls like pretend this is cohesive tyty #shockingly only cried once i was done #i'm so so so happy to have him back and so excited to see what he and skz do going forward #it seems like he used the time away to learn new things and grow and become even more amazing #i am so proud of him and love him so much!!! #*hits

[kyberphilosopher]

Hiss

[Part ii. of Bite] Jason’s been resurrected, only to find he’s been replaced as Robin. Luckily, an old enemy of the Batman has the attributes to help. Word Count: 6465

Warning[s]: guns, crime, language, crude humor, Mitski, non vegetarian reader, age gap, glorified taskmaster ally. Following part i the readers official gender is not disclosed. 

“Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

☈ - ✮ ✭ ✮

Six months. That’s how long it took for Jason to die. Six. Whole. Months. In an abandoned warehouse, in some foreign country that he couldn’t even remember. He’d been fifteen, small for his age but fifteen nonetheless, when that clown had beat him. And what had Batman done? Nothing. He’d let him sit in that warehouse, in that foreign country, with that clown at age fifteen- for six months. And he had done nothing.

Not that it really matters now. It had, at one point, to Jason. He’s in denial that it still does. But to Batman? Oh, it never mattered at all. How long had it taken Bruce to replace his son? A week? A month? No, it had been six months. Barely. And the clown? He was safe and sound, very much alive and loose as he usually was. Batman had put him in Arkham, after a while, but of course it hadn’t lasted for very long. Jason’s death? That was permanent. At least until there was a new and improved and very much replaced Jason running with Batman, six months later. That was permanent too.

So one can imagine the confusion you felt when you opened the door to find a very much alive ex-Robin on your apartment doorstep. 

201 Arkham Street, apartment 317 Gotham City, Gotham County, New Jersey

That’s the address given to him by the Riddler. Putting him in Arkham seemed to be one thing that the Batman had got done during Jason’s little time away. Clearly it had ended up well enough for at least one person. Jason hadn’t even needed to threaten the Riddler out of riddling. In less than ten minutes, Edward Nygma had revealed the Mockingbird’s address, who they like and don’t like, what their suit was made of, and finally their name. Batman had always assumed Riddler and Mockingbird were best friends, birds of a feather with all the times the they’d seemed to make some kind of appearance by the others side. Some friend Riddler was now. 

Jason had snuck into the Batcave recently, and while going through files, decided to take a glimpse into Mockingbird’s just for the sake of curiosity. He wasn’t expecting much. When he was fifteen, it had been near empty. But sure enough, the file had been expanded upon relatively greatly in the past- what? Four years? That sounded right. But one thing that hadn’t changed was your seemingly long standing friendship with Edward Nygma, the Riddler. Still, so much for it. 

Batman had seemingly made a note of allies of theirs, then crossed out multiple names. Poison Ivy, Bane, Deadshot- and yes- the Riddler, stayed. Scarecrow, Black Mask, and Catwoman were all shockingly crossed out. Jason hadn’t expected the last one. Below the allies were the list of crimes. That had changed too. They’d gotten more violent towards the end of the list, straying away from the Mockingbird that the ex-Robin had known. Mockingbird had picked a fight with Dick’s Nightwing enough times for Batman to make a note of too. Before Jason could get to the new pictures of Mockingbird, he quickly closed the file. Didn’t need to see anymore. 

So based on what he had gathered, you should’ve looked different. He’d memorized your face when he was fifteen. Was expecting it to have changed compared to then. But when you open the door and Jason’s face to face with you, Mockingbird, it’s like the first time. Only your eyebrows have gotten slightly darker, and your eyes have rung with dark circles. 

✮ ✭ ✮

The same can’t be said for Jason Todd, however, who you let into your apartment rather quickly. 

You’d done your research on him, too, but only after you’d heard about his death. A death which was confirmed. After locking the door and beginning to turn around, he answers the question before you can ask. 

“Superboy and Lazarus Pits.”

“Ah,” you respond, crossing your arms. The man stands tall in your living room, though it’s not forced. You’ve got no idea what a Lazarus Pit is, but it seems to have changed the Robin you knew before. He was scrawny before. He puffed his chest out before. He had something to prove before. Now his broad shoulders make him look bigger naturally. He could reach up and touch your ceiling with no effort. His face and jaw are masculine and strong, eyes bright green and blue and cyan like you remember. That’s how you know it’s Jason Todd.

“It’s because of the power struggle, isn’t it?” says Harley beside you as you both look over the side of the roof, her flat on her belly and you crouched on the ledge in watch. 

“Hm?” you’d tossed back through your voice changer, not even looking away from the busy street below. 

“Jay killed the Robin,” Harley chirps. “You know- Batman’s little boyfriend? In the shorts and the tights with the flips and the kicks? Oh, that kid went bing, bang, boom. Jay’s been real pumped about it.”

This had made you turn to Harley Quinn. You looked at her over your shoulder, still in position. Though you hadn’t thought about it at the time, it was a good thing she couldn’t see through your mask right about now. 

“The kid?” you say at last. 

“Yeah! Jason Todd! Ya’ know him?”

Harley doesn’t look at you, bubbly as ever in her own world. But you watch her for a moment. Then you turn back around to the direction of the street. “No.”

“Well I’m sayin I bet that’s why there’s so much crime goin’ on now. Old Batty’s got it...”

“I heard,” you tell Jason, before he can go into further detail. He nods once in understanding, in line with a breath, and then looks around the room. Your apartment is small, seemingly in decay, and looks like a shithole. Just like the rest of the building. 

“Mockingbird, I presume,” he offers finally. “Y/N L/N was it?”

You nod once, holding your gaze at the ground in thought before taking a step toward your kitchen. It’s close by to the living room. So close, in fact, that your island counter practically touches the back of your couch. “Robin,” you greet in turn. 

“My name’s Ja-”

“I know what your name is.”

Just then a sprinkle of dust falls from your ceiling, mixing with dirt and shit and pollen. “Nice place,” Jason condescends. 

“I’m sorry,” you put your hands on your counter as you lean in to look at him. “Weren’t you under the ground not too long ago?”

“Weren’t you in jail not too long ago?”

“I never went to jail.”

“But your buddy Ed did didn’t he?”

Your eyebrows crease, and Jason notices you lean forward a fraction of an inch more. He got to you. “How do you know about Edward?”

Jason Todd gives a small smile. His right hand reaches up until it’s poking the side of his head a few times. “Bat knowledge.”

You frown tightly. “Don’t do that. I didn’t like that.”

“You like beating up Dick Grayson?”

You shift. “Yeah. I did.”

“And Catwoman? Huh?”

“Yeah,” you say a little louder. “I did. What wonder boy? You wanna see the scar to prove it?”

“Okay,” Jason huffs. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and then he speaks softer to control himself. “Okay. I’m not Boy Wonder anymore, or wonder boy. Don’t call me that.”

You look him up and down. His eyes, his jaw, his brows. The Robin you knew those years ago. He’d been beaten and blown up. He must’ve cried for help. 

“Okay,” you say, equally as soft. “But just for the record, I haven’t been the Mockingbird for years. Can’t really call me that either.”

“Why not?” Jason Todd questions, turning around so his back faces you while he observes your apartment. You can see his muscles through his shirt. 

Because you were just a kid. Because I liked you. Because you didn’t deserve it. Because Batman didn’t help. Because you were replaced. Because most of my friends laughed it off. Because I couldn’t go after Joker myself. Because I got angry. 

“Just grew out of it,” you shrug instead, turning around. You open your dirty fridge and pull out a bottle of lemonade and two glasses. “What are you doing here, Jason?” you say as you pour the drink, your back now turned to him. 

“I need your help.”

“Whatever with?”

“I’m thinking of getting a little...” Jason’s voice goes low into something like a masculine purr, “...revenge on Batman.”

“You came back from the dead,” you turn around with two glasses of lemonade, “to get revenge on the Batman? That’s your great plan?”

“No,” Jason says simply. He’s since turned around so he’s facing you. “Screwing with the Batman is just a piece of the fun. He’s nothing.”

Jason accepts the glass that you hand to him. You sit down on your couch in front of his figure. That simple motion is enough to bring out some more dust from your walls. “So what’s the revenge?” you take a sip of the sweet, gritty liquid. It coats your teeth strangely in seconds. 

“New Robin. Ever heard of Tim Drake?”

You stop your sip, looking up at the big, broad Jason. You can already tell where this is going. “Uh, Jason? We might wanna let god fix it, because if we fix it, we’re going to jail.”

His brows shoot up. “You hit me in the face with a pipe.”

“I didn’t hit you. You walked into my swing. But you wanna go after the kid, Jason? Really?”

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms so his forearms flex. 

“Tim Drake?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes in thought. On one hand, you hadn’t been Mockingbird for years. You stopped when you were eighteen, and you’re twenty one now. Not that it’s helped you very much. You’re still struggling in a shithole, broke and unhappy and no longer able to afford school. And Tim Drake hasn’t really done anything wrong. But on the other hand, Batman is a dick, and you really stopped liking him after what happened to the former Robin. You’d wanted to go after him and the Joker for it, but you’re not far enough in the Gotham food chain for that. Trading swings with Selina was as close as you got. 

“Alright.” You stand. You’re not even close to Jason’s height. “Lay out the deal. You got a suit?”

✮ ✭ ✮

And that’s how you and Jason Todd ended up on a roof that night. You, at the crisp age of twenty one, and he at what you suppose is his version of nineteen. Still working on wrapping your head around that one. 

You’ve pulled out your Mockingbird suit from under the bed. It was a bit dusty, but not hard to slip into. Everything seems in place. It’s just old. Your voice scrambler is still working okay and all the eyes light up efficiently. Jason’s got a suit too. 

“I don’t,” Jason answers, his face suspicious. His eyes are twinkling as he looks down at you. It’s so hard to believe he’s just a boy- or was, last you saw him. 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “I got you.”

You lead Jason to your room, into your closet, and into a space even farther back where an illuminated glass case the size of several yard sticks stands. It must cost more than your whole apartment. Inside of it is a metal suit like a military uniform, similar to Bruce’s Batsuit but with an Arkham emblem over the chest. 

“Call it the Arkham Knight. You like it?”

“Where did you get this?” Jason steps forward, raking his eyes up and down the design. Bruce would hate it. 

“I stole it from the Batcave.”

“The whole display case?” Jason snaps to you. Then his brows shoot up and he takes a step closer. “How do you know where the Batcave is?”

“How did you know where my apartment is? And yes, I took the whole case. It was just sitting there.”

Jason turns back around to the suit. It’s growing on him. He admires it. It’s perfect. The Arkham symbol will put the Batman into a state of despair. “Hard to believe you and Selina aren’t friends anymore.”

“We never were,” you mutter back. It’s really not his business that you ended so many partnerships because of his death.

“You’re sure this is the place?” you question. It sends Jason into a state of euphoria, hearing the distorted villainy of your voice again. It feels like the first time too, just like when he saw your face again. It feels how it did when he was fifteen and infatuated with the Mockingbird. It’s almost dizzying. It’s just strange to hear it knowing that now you’re on the same side. 

“Yeah,” he answers through his helmet. His voice is distorted too. “This is the place.”

You’re overlooking a Gotham street at night, something you’ve both discovered vigilantes, heroes, and villains do a lot of. Smoke fills the air along with police sirens and building lights. You’re positioned in one of the outer districts though, away from most of the commotion. 

“I can’t remember the last time I was here,” you say, half to yourself. 

“I can,” Jason says back. “When I ran with Batman. Last year. I was fifteen.” Jason's voice drops. “Or was I...”

You frown behind your own mask. Of course. Jason died four years ago, and he was fifteen when that happened. He came back- you’re not sure when- older and stronger and behind on the changes of the world. He must not know about social media, or the latest television crazes, or the new roads in Gotham. It makes you sad. 

All Jason sees when he meets your eyes through his visor is several red slanted lines. You’re both unreadable through your helmets. 

“There’s a good restaurant down on this corner,” you both turn back to the street, crouching in wait. “Maybe B-Man likes it.”

“He never eats,” says the ex-Robin. “Never sleeps. Never does anything.”

“You know he broke my buddy Scarecrow’s bones last Halloween?” you scoff. “Literally for not knowing where Black Mask is. Your old boss is weird as hell.”

Jason cocks an eyebrow you can’t see. “Thought you weren’t friends with Scarecrow anymore?”

“Anymore? B-Man keeping tabs on me?”

“He keeps tabs on everyone,” Jason shakes his head. “You’re just a file.”

“Hm,” he hears you say. Contemplate, more like. You speak again after a moment of silence. “Well Scarecrow and me are fine, thank you for asking.”

Jason scoffs. “He your boyfriend or something?”

“My boyfriend’s over in Metropolis.”

Oh. 

“How’s your girl?” Your head snaps to Jason at once, hands twitching around. “Or guy.”

He tosses a look to you that you can’t see, but you can guess at. Somewhere between ‘what the hell’ and ‘why the hell’ and an eye roll with furrowed brows. 

“Come on. Rose Wilson seems your type. Ooh, Artemis?” You suddenly nudge his arm with your elbow. “Batgirl? Is it Dick?”

Another look is thrown your way. This time it feels more angry. “Whatever, Robin,” you offer lightly. 

It dawns on you that perhaps Jason has never had a partner before. That seems more likely, especially after thinking about his situation, and suddenly you feel bad. It’s too late to vocalize an apology now though.

“Fine,” you say at last. “Let’s just stop talking.”

“Let’s do.”

✮ ✭ ✮

It starts raining not long after that. 

The drops bounce off your suits harmlessly. There’s still no sign of this Tim Drake and Batman. 

“Hey,” you break the silence. “Has anyone ever told you you look exactly like a statue?”

“Must be a resurrection thing.”

“Yep.”

The rain falls harsher.

“So,” Jason begins. “I have to ask. How do you do the- the…” he spins his pointer fingers around rapidly.

“What the fuck are you doing? What is that? No- what is that right there?”

“The thing that you do.”

“I’ve never done that in my life, Jason. What is that? Finger jiu jitsu?”

You hear Jason suck in a breath as he turns away. “You think you’re so funny.”

“You asked me for help. And between the two of us- who has died here? Not me. I’m hilarious.”

“Oh,” he scoffs. “So hilarious.”

“You seemed to think so. When…” your voice trails off. You almost wanted to mention that night in the warehouse to him. A memory of him looking up at you, his hands bound behind his back as he stares in wonder flashes in your mind. But it doesn’t linger for long. Movement in the street catches your eye. “Jason.”

Both your heads snap down to the place below. Sure enough, after a few seconds, a figure steps into view of the moonlight. A skinny kid with dark hair and a bright red and yellow costume. He looks younger than Dick or Jason.

“That’s him,” your partner says. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a long rod. It unfolds with a click that you recognize- the click of a gun.

“What?” you furrow your brows. “Woah- what?”

“I’m gonna shoot him,” Jason tells you casually, fiddling around with the weapon. It’s coming into shape more and more as a sniper rifle.

“That is a child,” you whisper hiss. “He’s like ten!”

“I don’t think he’s ten,” Jason puts his eye over the scope. “This is revenge.”

“Please, do not shoot a child for replacing you in your job of tightie whities vigilante.”

Jason huffs through his mask and looks over at you. “What did you think this was, bird?”

“I thought we were just like, gonna kick him in the balls or something! This is exactly what I meant by ‘we are going to jail’! I told you we should’ve let god fix it!”

“He’ll be fine.”

You knock the rifle out of the Arkham Knights hands with a bang. It clambers across the roof top until it’s nearly over the edge, half on half off.

Jason and you go down at once, shoulder to shoulder in a tackle. Thunder booms overhead. Through his visor, Jason sees you raise a white, gauntleted fist back in a punch, aimed right for his face. Luckily, he manages to catch you by the torso and neck and throw you off.

When he pushes himself to his knee and foot in a kneel, he looks up to find an exact replica of himself. Not literally, of course, but looking at you is like looking into a mirror. Your hand is placed on the rooftop the same way his is. Your knees are bent at the exact same angle as his own. When Jason cocks his head to the side slowly, yours follows him at the same time. So this is what it means to fight the Mockingbird.

He decides to reach for the gun at the side of his leg. He manages to fire once- and miss- a bang going off that he’ll be lucky Drake doesn’t hear over the storm. You knock the gun out of his hands easily, dodging a punch to the stomach before countering with one of your own to his face. It hits the exact same way Jason’s do. He sees your knuckles coming closer to him and almost thinks they’re his own.

Next idea is toss you off the building. Key word: you. Not him.

Jason grips the back of your head through your hood, reaching around. He carries you with him while he stands, tensing his abs as he feels you hammer your elbow away at them. It’s the knee to his crotch that makes him let go and let out a strangled groan.

But before anything else can happen, you spring forward at him in a pounce. Your palms latch onto his shoulders. His feet disconnect from the surface of the roof and the both of you go backwards until neither one of you are on the building at all, over the side.

Jason gets tangled in the emergency stair well. His metal suit clangs against it as he falls and tumbles down, either causing or saving some head injuries. You hit your back on an old street light before landing in a trash bin.

This is it, you manage to think to yourself. Lying in a garbage bin in Gotham at night. And in the rain. This is rock bottom.

I am going to kill everyone on the block for this, thinks Jason.

✮ ✭ ✮

You do eventually get up and remove yourself from the garbage bin. Jason sits at the bottom of the stairs, watching you. You do not exchange words. He does, however, follow you down the street as you essentially stomp.

“Ma’am,” he offers quietly to a gawking older woman.

You enter a small restaurant. More of a diner, really. The door jingles as it opens, and Jason watches you walk to the side until you find a table by the window. You sit down with a huff, tapping one of your helmets red eyes. He shuffles into the space ahead of you, nearly skirting the table across the floor with the bulk of his own muscle and suit. He can feel your judgy eyes on him as he clambers into the seat like a large, run down father.

“Hi there,” a chirpy waitress bounds. She’s a large, redheaded woman in a bright yellow uniform and a hat with a spring connected to a plastic burger on top. It is ridiculous, funny, and you are sadly not in the mood. “My, aren’t you two some interesting looking people! We don’t get a lot of men of metal around here!”

You both look at her silently, masks on but hatred seeping through boredly.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“A gun,” you drawl tiredly, rubbing your palms over your mask.

“We’re not sellin’ those right now, my dear. Something else?”

“Two cheeseburgers would be fine,” Jason speaks up for you.

“Two burgers,” the waitress repeats with a smile, writing it down in her burger notepad. Her cheeks are rosy as she beams happily. “And should I be expecting Superman?”

“Die,” you snap to her, watching her hurry off to the kitchen. Then you put your head down in your folded arms on the table.

Jason glanced around. It’s empty except for the two of you and some dumpy guy in a trucker hat with wide eyes. “What’re you staring at?” Jason all but barks. Normally, he tries to make himself as unnoticeable as possible in public. Not very confident or secure, it seems. But now he’s tired. He just fell down about a million floors worth of metal stairs. It’s late and he lost two of his guns.

“What?” you raise your head, also looking at the trucker hat man. “You’ve never seen two people in superhero suits before?”

“Beat it,” Jason orders.

The man is quick to stand and speed walk away. Still you egg on, “get out of here, bozo!”

“What a fuckin’ prick,” Jason grumbles as he watches the man trip down the street through his view from the window, the door still ringing to signal it’s been opened.

“Yeah,” you agree tiredly.

Your nimble fingers reach up and back to push your white hood from your head. Then they click against the sides of your face and pull the helmet away, revealing your face. You inhale as if you couldn’t get enough air before. Jason watches you, still as a statue, his visor giving him the luxury of being able to monitor your breathing.

“Now what?” you gripe, rubbing your eyes. It can’t be comfortable with all the armor on your hands, but you don’t seem bothered. You must’ve gotten used to it by now.

The Arkham Knight ahead of you only cocks his head to the side slightly. Silent with his helmet. “I’ll help you punch Tim but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Why are you defending this kid?” you hear Jason breathe in return. For a split second, electricity runs through you at the sound of his distorted voice, the way his body looks in his suit of armor and how unreadable he is through the helmet. It shocks you all the the way down to your crotch.

“You know,” you begin, eyes widening and voice quieting with a sudden nervousness. “He’s just a kid. Younger than you were.”

Jason scoffs and turns his head away from you, now looking out the window. Gotham is dark and damp outside. “Bullshit,” he scoffs. Then after a few seconds and continues. “Tim Drake and I are the same age.” His head pulls back slightly, fingers giving a strange, sudden twitch. “Or were. We’re-”

You’ll never know what Tim Drake and Jason Todd were. Jason never finishes his sentence, and only his suit flashes with little codes and details to let you know he’s still alive in there. Besides that, he’s as still, lost in sudden thought. You frown and lean in a bit, tapping your elbow with your fingers while you shift uncomfortably. “You’re nineteen, Jason.”

His head twitches again. Now you know he’s heard you. “I’m two years older than you,” you reason. “You’re nineteen.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Why did you let me go?”

Your eyebrows scrunch and unscrunch. Another wave of electricity shocks down your body, but this time it’s because his voice sounded more like his own. You could hear it under the layers of metal and distortion. But option one is to respond to his question by pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. That seems like it’s for the best.

“You were just a kid,” you tell him honestly. He silently presses you on. “And I just- I looked at you and I…” I really liked you, kid. Best night I had in years. Made me smile. God, you had to stop working with so many other Gotham city villains just for making jokes about the kid. “You were fifteen,” you say, looking away. “Just a kid.”

Jason watches you. Again, your head turns so you look out the window. He would’ve expected that to be the end of it, but you continue. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”

Jason’s about to pretend to not know what you’re talking about, because it seems like it’s for the best that way. But then he remembers you can’t see anything through his helmet. “What’re you talking about?” he gruffs.

“You saw my face in that warehouse,” you press. “If you had told Batman, I would’ve been to jail. Maybe Arkham. But that never happened. So why didn’t you tell him?”

I was obsessed with you, Jason’s mind screams. In love with you! It hisses, which makes Jason cringe. “Guess you were a kid too.” That’s right. You were seventeen back then. What is that? Last year of high school? You balanced a criminal career and the required education for a minor at the same time. Where were your parents during this?

Jason bites down on his lip hard. Parents. Should shut up about that, probably.

“I’m uh,” you bite your lip and then lick it. “I’m sorry for pushing you. On the roof.”

He shifts. “It’s nothing.”

You turn back to the window. Your arms uncross from atop the table and go to rest in your lap. This close and this still, Jason can make out all the details in your suit. It’s impressive. Kevlar and rubber and plastic, the Riddler had told him. Not the gloves. That’s metal and plastic. 

“So,” Jason decides. “How do you that?” Your brows crease in confusion. He tries to do the finger motions he’d down before, which makes you cringe. “The mirroring. And the fighting and the…” he goes through the motions again. “It in your helmet?”

Your confusion sinks away. A new expression washes over your face as you lean in. One finger reaches up, poking your temple and you smile softly. “Bat knowledge.”

Just then, the waitress saves the day. “Two cheeseburgers for the scary suit people!” she beams, setting the plates down. For a second, her breasts are pressed into each of your faces. Jason first, who does not move and you can’t see under the helmet. You bite back a snicker but instead seep a childish look. Then you’re next, and you can feel Jason’s silent laugh under his Arkham Knight suit as your eyes go wide. “Enjoy, dears!”

“Boobs,” you shiver. “Just got boobs in my face.” And then Jason watches you carefully pick up the burger in your dangerous gloves, and take a bite.

Indeed, for the first time that night, the man in front of you reaches up and pulls off his own helmet with a click. You watch it be taken into his large, veiny hands and passed to the edge of the table, against the wall of the window. Then your eyes wander up to his face, which makes you chew slower.

A strong face. Sharp jaw, perfectly in line nose. Lips always pulled into a scowl. Bright eyes with tired circles and scars across his skin. There’s a streak of white in his dark hair you hadn’t noticed at all before, though now it’s practically blaring you in the face. Jason Todd is very handsome. 

“What?” he says behind his burger, raising it to his lips but freezing before he can bite into it.

You shrug and focus again on your burger. You hear Jason bite into his own.

“I don’t have any money,” you tell him after a moment, swallowing down a bite.

“Me neither,” Jason answers. He nudges his head towards the window. “There’s an ATM across the street.” You nod in response.

A few bites in you speak again. The minutes have been filled with the noises of chewing and swallowing and yummy meat and cheese. “You ever heard of Mitski?”

Jason swallows his bite, which are bigger than yours. “What?”

“Mitski,” you repeat. “The singer?” Jason shakes his head. “You seem like you’d like her. My boyfriend hates her.”

Jason’s brows twitch.

“Why aren’t you with him?” he questions, taking another bite.

You roll your eyes. “Too expensive. He’s-”

“But he lives there.”

“He just didn’t offer,” you shrug. “I don’t have the money anyway. It’s fine.”

Jason cocks a brow. Your own boyfriend didn’t offer to get you out of this shithole?

You roll your eyes. “We haven’t talked in a long time okay? He’s busy. I’m busy.”

Both of Jason’s brows raise now, almost playfully. “Busy with what?”

You’d be offended if you weren’t busy trying to answer. What were you busy with? After you graduated, money went dry with university. It became less frequent after retiring from the Mockingbird mantle. Most of your jobs were minimum wage and short lived. You’re a bartender now, but not somewhere that’ll keep you going probably. Most days you sit around the apartment or run errands, sometimes hosting Ivy. Last time she’d been over, she’d given you a plant that had quickly died and spoke about Harley quite a bit. And Riddler obviously doesn’t come over anymore. Scarecrow had once but he’s off doing god only knows now. 

“Shut up,” you hiss. “What are you busy with?”

“Controlling crime in Gotham,” Jason takes a bite.

“How’s that working out for you?”

“Well.”

“You know you didn’t have to ask me to do this,” you say. “You could’ve just asked someone else. There’s a lot of people in Gotham okay with child killing.”

“I wanted you,” Jason explains. He’s quick to speak again to keep you from thinking about his words. “You were the first person I thought of.”

You’re nearing the end of your burger. “How did you find me?”

Jason shrugs mid-chew. He’s almost done as well. “Riddler.”

“Gave me away that easy?”

“Yep.”

You chew your last bite. It was a good and hearty burger, the cheese melting perfectly against the patty and your tongue.

“You want anything else?” Jason asks.

You watch the street outside, eyes squinting on the ATM. “Jason,” you mutter. “Jason.”

✮ ✭ ✮

Three men snicker as they load up dark blue duffel bags. They’re slimey and smelly, like an old sewer. Money falls from the machine like a waterfall.

Their success doesn’t last long.

One of them comes in contact with the Mockingbird’s elbow and slams his head into a brick building. The other two are just inexplicably on the ground, incapacitated while the Arkham Knight stands overhead.

“Fuck,” you breathe through your helmet. “I missed this.”

Jason’s just picked up the duffel bag when the sudden sound of sirens blare through the air. It’s close. Too close.

“Well that’s no good,” you mutter. You turn to Jason, taking a sharp step forward. “Give it to me.”

His brows furrow under the mask.

“I’ll pay the waitress,” you say. “You run.”

Jason reaches behind his belt and shifts the weight of the bag into one hand. A gun appears- a small handgun. You duck down as he raises it at you, holding your head down as the BANG! rings through the air.

You stand back to your feet, bracing yourself at the sudden sight. The Arkham Knight charges you, but only to pick you up like you’re nothing and jump through the glass window he previously shot at. The adrenaline makes things hazy, but you can see the blue and red lights now. It doesn’t matter. The two of you fly across what turns out to be a pawn shop, burst through the back door and back room until you hit the cold outside air of Gotham again. Multiple doors slam shut behind you. You’re both out of breath and panting, and it’s raining again. This time in an alleyway.

But the cops won’t follow you out here.

It’s quiet besides the panting from you two. Jason has more endurance, you’re sure, but you can hear his breathing inside his helmet. He lets the duffel bag slip out of his grasp as you double over. “I did miss that,” you offer. “Running from the police.” The Arkham Knight just continues his breathing.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

✮ ✭ ✮

Two days after the incident, you enter your apartment lazily. Your keys are tossed onto the island counter before you wander through your mail. One of your letters is from Ed in Arkham, warning you about “some big guy asking about you”. A bit late for that now. You haven’t heard from Jason since that night.

It isn’t until you go to sit on your couch that you notice a large, nearly bursting open envelope. Your fingers stretch to reach it, examining it. No return address, but written in pen in sloppy letters is the word “Bird”. Luckily, it doesn’t feel like a bomb. It feels more soft but firm.

You open the envelope. Your breathing hitches, breath slowing when you see what’s inside. Then a smirk comes over your face.

Just then, dust falls from your shitty apartment ceiling.

✮ ✭ ✮

A week after the failed Tim Drake incident, a young man decides to pay a visit to your building. He is tall and strong, with raven hair laced with a white streak at the front. He frowns at everything, ducking his head to make himself smaller and less noticeable. He cares not for being perceived by other people. He’s well aware of how he looks.

The man’s knuckles tap against apartment 317. He shifts, looking back and forth. The man is quite attractive in is casual red hoodie and jeans, but he wants to be out of the open as soon as he can. After a moment, there is no response from inside.

He scrunches his brows and knocks again. When he takes a step closer, he can hear something from the inside. Music. A piano and drums and maybe an organ?

Jason twists the door knob with ease and steps ahead and inside. The apartment is completely and totally empty. The music becomes louder and more clear. It’s a female singer he doesn’t recognize.

Only the bones of the kitchen remain. Counters, cabinets, a sink, and an old fridge. There’s mold in the corner of the space. But in the middle of the floor where the couch and living room used to be is a cluster of things. Things meant for Jason Todd. 

The man eyes the pile for a few seconds. Then he sets towards it. The first thing he recognizes is a CD player with the volume turned all the way up. He still doesn’t know the song.

Besides the player is a suit he’s quite familiar with. It’s clunky, but folded as neatly as it can be given that it’s made of metal. On the top is the helmet that gives it away. The Arkham Knight suit. It sits on a dark duffel bag in front of a small white piece of paper with the promise of ink inside. Jason decides to open that first.

You’re coming back… and it’s the end of the world…

Haha! I knew you’d show up!

Jason nearly rolls his eyes at the first sentence.

Thanks for the money. I know it was you. Thanks for the fun night too. Sorry about hitting your balls. They felt really big if that makes you feel better.

It didn’t.

I was thinking of Metropolis, but what do you know, me and the boy toy decided it might be better to hold off on it. I got a bit of dirt on the kid by the way. You’ll find it on the back of this paper. Oh and I hope you like the Mitski soundtrack. I bet Drake’s the kind too. I’m going to keep the Mockingbird suit if you don’t mind. I guess our night of fun kinda reignited an old flame. Don’t even think about coming after me.

Son of a bitch, Jason internally screams.

I have a gift for you though. You get the Arkham Knight. You look good in it. And a little something extra in the bag by the way. 

Love, Mockingbird.

I just need a quiet place… where I can scream, how I love you…

Indeed, inside the duffel bag Jason Todd finds some cash and red fabric with an R emblem over the chest. He doesn’t need to pull the rest out to understand what it is. He decides not to question how you got his old Robin suit or when, but lets himself smile a bit, his chest expanding with his breath. It’s a real smile too. 

You’ve given Jason everything he needs to go after Tim Drake himself.

✮ ✭ ✮

I hope I’ve ruined everyone’s day. You think I would let the reader and Jason be happy together? You absolute baffoon. Maybe I’ll make a part three for gits and shiggles though. I’m not sure about this one. Definitely more based around their interactions than the drama unlike the first one. It was fun though. I hit the paragraph limit. I think I did a good job with the chemistry. I do apologize for giving the reader a real set in stone age though. I don’t like to to that because I think it takes away the point of having a ‘reader’. Also if you’re vegetarian please just eat a cheeseburger it’s so good y’all are weird. Oh and fun fact I just got a Red Hood tattoo on Saturday! Look at me go!

Tagging everyone who asked for a part ii: @yunho-leeknow @fyowyn-writes @martianmilfhunter @beardedfandiplomatprofessor

#dc robin x reader #dc jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader #robin x reader #x reader #redhood x reader #red hood x reader #dc redhood x reader #dc red hood x reader #red hood imagine #dc red hood imagine #dc redhood imagine #jason todd imagine #imagine #imagines #jason todd imagines #redhood imagines #dc redhood imagines #dc fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #red hood fanfction #redhood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd angst #jason todd fluff #red hood angst #red hood fluff #fluff #angst

[amesstm]

dates with the boys

Characters: Kita, Atsumu, Osamu, Suna, Kageyama, Kenma, Kuroo

✨Kita✨ and you decide to go pick some blueberries at a local farm. The date was very peaceful, especially since he made sure you wore bug spray so you weren’t attacked. By the end of the date, you wanted some pictures, which Kita hesitantly agreed to do for you. “I’m not good at this like Suna is,” he warns as he lifts the camera to photograph you. You giggled, “It’s fine. I just want to remember this moment.” After several shots of you, he decides to pose with you when a nice old lady offers to take pictures. When you look back on the pictures the next day whilst eating some delicious blueberry cobbler that Kita made, you groan, “Of course he’s also good at taking pictures.”

✨Atsumu✨ has begrudgingly remembered the time that you said his singing was bad for a while now. “Tsumu, maybe you should just stick with volleyball.” Being the competitive person that he is, he drags you to karaoke to show you that his singing has - at least - improved immensely since the last time he cried out “Sweet Caroline.” So, was his singing better? Shockingly, it was. Once Atsumu sets his mind on something, the need to succeed consumes him. When all the scores showed up for accuracy, he was jumping around from beating you. With arms crossed, you turn away from him, “Hm, sounds like someone isn’t getting kisses.” Atsumu proceeds to sing “Break My Heart.”

✨Osamu✨ has had a cooking date in mind that he has wanted to do with you since you two met. When you two are at his house to make bento boxes for a picnic, Atsumu makes sure not to disturb the peace unless he wants Osamu to murder him. “Am I doing this right?” You ask as you hold up the onigiri to your boyfriend. He smiles and pecks your forehead, “It’s as perfect as you.” Once you two are done, you and Osamu walk to a nearby park to eat your own creations. After you’re done eating, his head is resting in your lap so you decide to braid his hair. If anyone were to see this, they would think that Osamu was a completely different person, but he only ever shows this side of him to you.

✨Suna✨ plans a low-energy date, where you two stay in, order pizza, and watch Netflix. No, you two don’t do any funny business because - again - it’s supposed to be a date. If anything, that’d be for later. It’ll take you a few minutes to figure out what you want to watch, though. A series that your friend recommended caught your eye. “Can we watch ‘Don’t Fuck With Cats’?” Suna looks at you like you’re crazy, “Do you want me to cry tonight?” You give him a smile that he can’t resist, so he sighs and gives in. For the first time in a while, Suna shows an abundance of emotion to you. “Yeah, don’t mess with cats,” he mutters with conviction and anger. He holds you even closer during this documentary-series.

✨Kageyama✨ insists on taking you to the Tokyo Milk Cheese Factory. He’s so excited about it that he does a little dance because he can’t keep still. You think it’s so cute that you go just for him. As expected, Kageyama is in heaven as he looks at all the cutely-packaged milk-based products. “Do you have just milk?” He asks the worker, with sparkling eyes that you can’t possibly deny him. “Uh- yes, we can do that for you!” The worker says quickly, trying to maintain her composure. Once he has his milk, Kageyama is in a childlike joy for the rest of the day. “It’s so creamy!” He comments happily. You buy a whole pack for him, just so you can see that same smile more often.

✨Kenma✨ takes you to the arcade, which he insists won’t become a competition… but it does anyway. “You’re just choosing all of the PVP games!” You whined once you saw that Kenma won again with a KO. Although Kenma doesn’t want to admit it, he knows that he has the advantage since he’s a pro-gamer. “Do you have any suggestions, then?” With an evil grin spreading across your face, you drag him towards Dance, Dance, Revolution. He frowns at you with a glare, “How could you do this to me.” You laughed, “Let me just have one win!” He obliges you because he’d willingly get sweaty for you. After all, you made his heart race regardless.

✨Kuroo✨ insists that he’s a dog person, but he still pulls you to a cat cafe. “Y/N, look! He’s so cute!” He tries his best not to pick up the cat as you were instructed not to do that. Still, his hands are all over the cats, petting them everywhere. The cats seem to like you better, though, as they pounce away from the clutches of Kuroo to curl up next to you. “This isn’t fair!” The tall man pouts like a child. You chuckle, “I thought you liked dogs better? I think the cats can tell, too.” He sits next to you and pets the cat that rested itself on your lap, “Please love me.” “Here,” you say, lifting the cat so that it’s on his lap instead. “You need Sir Whiskers more than I do.” Seeing your tall, goofy boyfriend act soft makes your heart warm.

©amesstm on tumblr // pls do not plagiarize, steal, or repost my content w/o permission!! BUT likes & reblogs are highly appreciated :)

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #kita x reader #atsumu x you #osamu x you #suna rintaro x you #kenma x reader #tobio x y/n #kuroo x y/n #kita shinsuke #atsumu miya #osamu fluff #suna #kenma #haikyu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #hq atsumu #miya osamu #kuroo headcanons

[qqueenofhades]

did you watch lucifer season six and what are your thoughts pls and ty

Ahaha. Yes. Yes I did watch it. Then I cried for a literal hour and attempted to compose myself, only to start crying again when I lay down and kept on thinking about it. Then I had more feelings. Then I slept like the dead due to emotional trauma. Then I reblogged gifsets and had More feelings. Then @buffaluff and @flynnanimal watched it and also required emotional support due to drowning in their own tears. So, uh... we're all fine here now. How are you?

My main takeaway from the final season was the sheer amount of love for the characters, story, and fans that you could feel shining through all the episodes, and which made SUCH a refreshing change. I had feelings in my tags the other day about how a show about the devil was constantly goofy, hopeful, loving, and uplifting, rather than all the grimdark nonsense they could have easily done with it. (As I said, just imagine it as written by the GOT idiots?? NO THANK YOU.) The writing really loved everyone and wanted to give them a proper ending and emotional journey, and it wanted to show the fans that they weren't stupid for having invested six seasons of effort and emotion into this, and just... that is so much rarer than it should be? Compare all the movies and TV shows that treat their fans like the enemy, that want to outsmart them at all costs even if it means changing major plot elements, that ferociously guard spoilers and think that "shock value" means good writing, by throwing hackneyed cliche upon cliche and making everything Depressing, and just... Lucifer had its hiccups and slow points and missteps, of course, but I am SO glad they didn't do that. The entire show consisted of Lucifer slowly but steadily progressing toward being a better man, despite mistakes and setbacks and sometimes a little too much will-they-won't-they. (Season 3 was the only one where I got bored and skipped over the filler episodes with Pierce/Lucifer/Chloe in order to get to the end).

That is an essentially simple premise, but they stuck to it, and they didn't try to create more drama by randomly wrecking what they had already established. I wrote a fic all the way back in mid-season 2 (In Nomine Patris) that ended up predicting quite a few of the future characters who had not yet appeared on the show at that time, including Eve, Michael, and Azrael, and several plot points, including the very major one of Lucifer returning to hell for the sake of his daughter with Chloe. And while this might mean that I am just that good at guessing TV shows (I would like to think this....) it also means that the writers set expectations, followed through on those expectations, and didn't suddenly derail everything or turn it totally on its head just for the sake of cheap shocks. As we can all attest, they certainly caused PLENTY of drama, anguish, pain, and suffering, but they did it in a way that remained faithful to the overall premises of the story and the characters, and wanted to see them become the best versions of themselves. I cried my eyes out at the end and then thought, "hey, I might want to watch the whole series again," which, if you ask me, is the mark of doing your job right. There have been so few TV endings recently where I didn't immediately swear off the whole thing or have to pretend that canon didn't exist, so yeah.

As I said, it was just refreshing to watch something that had that essential deep generosity at its core, where the message is that everyone is worthy of love if they make the hard and painful effort to change and become better, and that even if earthly things feel small next to all this messy celestial drama, they still matter, and that you are loved no matter what. I loved that Amenadiel became God and Lucifer returned to hell as a choice in order to help all the trapped souls be able to work through their guilt and go to heaven. There were obviously certain echoes of The Good Place in that ending; I don't know if it was something they had planned all along or if the success of TGP, another series asking deep questions about life, death, morality, and human nature within the framework of a goofy heaven-and-hell sitcom, influenced it, but either way, it worked so well. Even if it tore my heart out and stomped on it on the ground, it was fitting and oh so lovely to see Lucifer, once the most selfish being in the entire universe, following in Linda's footsteps and becoming selflessly dedicated to helping other people. Just. Chef's kiss.

And of course, Deckerstar. The Hades and Persephone vibes were IMMACULATE this season, and while it did take Lucifer and Chloe the best part of four seasons to get together, they never significantly backslid, never had third-party issues or cheap cheating storylines once they were officially a couple, and Tom Ellis and Lauren German REALLY killed it this season in particular. It was never easy for them and sometimes the drama went on a little too long over the course of said six seasons, but the love story was beautiful and incredibly meaningful and always true to the fact that the actors and characters and writers (not to mention the fans) all loved it so much. They were so much the emotional heart of this, and when they went to hell together in episode 6x03 (where they turned into cartoons because wHAT even IS this show), Joe Henderson said in an interview that this was to give the fans a view into Lucifer and Chloe's future (after) lives post-6x10, and to offer them a basis to write fanfiction. I mean... the showrunner saying to the fans "here, we love you, have something to write fic about!" is likewise pretty shockingly rare. It's again an example of how this show always audaciously poked fun at itself, never took itself TOO seriously, and was always welcoming its fans and the people who loved it to do so, rather than making them feel stupid or taking joy in wrecking beloved characters or plots.

Obviously, I loved Rory, the badass lesbian half-angel goth Deckerstar child straight out of My Immortal (seriously, she was SO edgy, it was amazing), because of the fact that Lucifer's entire arc was always about feeling abandoned by his father and that he was going to have to face it for himself. Dorky Devil Dad Lucifer trying his absolute HARDEST to bond with his daughter was simultaneously hilarious, adorable, and heart-wrenching, and yet again, the Growth. We all remember when he could barely tolerate Trixie touching him, and now we're here. Also, any variation whatsoever of "this is just a brief moment of time that we must be apart, love is eternal and stronger than death and we will never really leave each other" as a line is guaranteed to make me bawl my eyes out. So that was fun.

I got a big kick out of Ghost Dan running around and trying to get everyone to see him, and had feelings about seeing him in heaven with Charlotte and his beloved Pudding Pops at the end. I had feelings about how they handled Ella finding out the truth (or rather demanding to know why nobody had told her) and of course, I obviously loved Maze and Eve and their goth/femme wedding and the fact that they got a good three-season romantic arc (indeed, I wanted more of them). My god, Trixie is SO BIG, she used to be a tiny little nugget. I love that Linda was the moral and emotional rock all along, from the first episode to the very last, and that Amenadiel was Deeply Vindicated when Charlie's wings appeared at his first birthday party. I love how Lucifer in s6 is absolute thousands of light years from Lucifer in s1. And as ever, Chloe was Perfect. I am happy that I spent six seasons with these characters and saw them become better, and that I was never made to feel like an idiot for trusting the writers to end everything in a beautiful and emotional way. Because, well. They did. Sure, maybe I could go back and pick at a plotline here or a detail there, but I don't terribly feel the need to do so? It might not have been perfect, but it was perfect, and I am so grateful that it existed.

#lucifer #lucifer spoilers #deckerstar #anonymous #ask

[robininthelabyrinth]

Tell me about how JC or NHS befriended Death?

“– and my brother says that makes them the happiest, even if it’s not the most efficient way to go about it,” Nie Huaisang concluded, very proudly, and handed back the scythe.

A skeletal hand accepted it, phalanges wrapping around the hilt, and holes in a skull examined it.

The scythe gleamed.

Menacingly.

“See?” Nie Huaisang said enthusiastically. “Doesn’t it look sharper? Brighter? A little more peppy?”

A slow nod.

“Blades are important,” Nie Huaisang concluded. “You can’t play around with them, and you certainly can’t neglect them - and no, just sharpening isn’t sufficient! Especially when they’re as important to your job as they are!”

“You’ve made your point,” Jiang Cheng said. He’d been sitting in a chair holding his head in his hands during the entire conversation. “Oh, and have you ever made your point. Now can you please stop lecturing the local avatar of Death or giving him advice on how to improve his…uh…idiosyncratic method of culling lives?”

“I just want to help –”

“You’re being a pest!”

NO, Death said. I APPRECIATE THE TIPS. REALLY

“Anytime!”

SQUEAK, another voice interrupted, demanding. A skeletal rat tail lashed out in annoyance. SQUEAK!

The tall figure nodded. CAN YOU SHOW HIM HOW TO SHARPEN HIS SCYTHE SPIRIT TOO? 

“Absolutely!”

-

“No, it’s cool, it’s cool” the woman said, trying to hide her smile. “I can definitely give you directions.”

“Can you put on some clothing?” Jiang Cheng asked the wall, his voice strangled.

The woman laughed at him, but when he turned to glare back at her she was  dressed properly – or, well, sufficiently. She was in men’s attire, but at least there were enough layers involved. 

She’d been wearing shockingly little the first time around: black pants that looked nearly painted, a slip of fabric held up by strings that was supposed to be a shirt, a heavy silver symbol of Western eternity at the end of a necklace.

She was still wearing all black, and her eyes were still smudged with kohl, but…clothing.

(Nie Huaisang hadn’t so much as glanced away from her once, the pervert! Jiang Cheng was going to have words with him about this later!)

“This has happened a few times before,” she said, drawing Jiang Cheng’s attention back to her. “I just have to figure out which of my brothers you came from – it’s a cinch to get you back to my younger brother’s dreamland, you just need to take a nap, but if you came from my older brother’s garden, from his Book, that might be a bit trickier.”

“Whatever help you can give us, we greatly appreciate,” Nie Huaisang said, and batted his eyelashes.

Jiang Cheng growled at him.

The woman laughed at them again, and whisked them away.

-

“Puppy!” Jiang Cheng exclaimed, burying his face into the fur. “Oh, good puppy, lovely puppy, what a wonderful puppy –”

The puppy licked him.

Then it licked him again twice more, so that each one of its three heads could get a turn in.

Jiang Cheng was blessed.

“- so sorry,” Nie Huaisang was saying behind Jiang Cheng’s back to the ruler of this place and his wife, as well as the glowering and definitely not human figure looming behind them both. “Is that deal about the music playing still open? Because I assure you, at the moment, I would leave him behind without looking back in a heartbeat.”

-

“I don’t like this,” Jiang Cheng said.

“You liked the dog just fine,” Nie Huaisang said. “What’s wrong with a rabbit?”

Jiang Cheng looked at the black outline of a rabbit flat against the sky.

“…something,” he finally said. “Something is very, very wrong with that rabbit.”

-

“See? No harm done,” Nie Huaisang said. “The lost souls have been appropriately returned to their proper place.”

“And we only bothered how many incarnations of death to do it?” Jiang Cheng snapped back.

“For my brother, I’d bother a hundred more,” Nie Huaisang said. “And you the same for your sister.”

He was right, but Jiang Cheng didn’t have to like it.

“Besides,” Nie Huaisang added. “You did say you’d take me to see the world one day.”

“World!” Jiang Cheng cried out. “World singular! Not worlds!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #sangcheng #my fic #my fics #crossover #Anonymous

[loversandantiheroes]

Can. Can we talk about how dexterous and clever Whiskey’s hands are. Can we talk about how strong and nimble and skilled they are. Can we.

(Hands anon) And honestly I’m a Frankie and Mando girl as well, you KNOW they hands are just as good 👌🙌

I want you to know I have tried to come back to this ask I don’t know HOW many times, but I always get incredibly distracted and just kind of stare into space with my eyes glazed over for like forty-five minutes.  Can’t imagine why...

1.8k words of pure hand-related yearning featuring Din, Frankie, Whiskey, and a bonus Ezra bc I was compelled.

Din’s hands are exactly what you’d expect in some ways - broad and strong as vise-grips, but meticulously deft when it comes to things that require care, whether that’s stripping down his weapons to clean them or patching your wounds (a surprise in and of itself given the impatient, almost flippant way he tends to the holes in his own hide).  What is surprising is just how soft his hands are under those ever-present gloves.  If you ever bring it up he’ll only huff a laugh, insisting his hands are as much a part of his toolkit as his weapons and his armor, and he wouldn’t be much of a Mandalorian if he didn’t take care of his tools.  Unpainted beskar needs to be cleaned and polished frequently, his guns need to be maintained, and the leather of his gloves need oiling to stay supple.  And his hands, too, need maintaining.  And well, hide is hide, and the oil he uses on his leathers goes a long way towards making sure his hands don’t crack or chap.

He’s a man of opposites, especially once you start to get past his defenses.  He can be absolutely unyielding and also shockingly gentle.  With the armor on he can be almost brazen about the way he touches you, particularly if what’s between you is purely physical.  Just scratching an itch?  Oh, he can do that, that’s easy.  And those hands can lock you down better than any binders.  But if it becomes more than that, if he starts pulling you close when he’s just down to his flight suit and there’s no cold press of metal between you, and finally works up the courage to pull those soft-worn gloves off?  It’s hard to imagine this is the same man.  He’s hesitant.  Nearly timid, you think at first, until you realize his hands aren’t trembling just from nerves but from the effort of control.  Touch is a luxury Din has never been afforded, something new to learn in the dark of his bunk with you pressed up against him with your back to his chest, overwhelmed by the simple contact of his fingers curling hesitantly around your own.  Give him time to breathe, to process, to touch without fear that it will overload him or that he might by some pure accident of excitement touch too hard and hurt when he doesn’t mean to (it is, he still thinks on his more rueful days, what he is built for; not this tenderness).  Your patience will absolutely be rewarded.

Frankie’s a bit of a different story, bless his heart.  His nails are starting to look a little less ragged these days - the nicotine gum has gone a long way towards both helping him back off the cigarettes and keep him from chewing them ragged when his anxiety’s off the rails - but given when he’s grounded he tends to go for more hands-on jobs, his hands can take a horrible beating.  If he’s not seeing anyone he doesn’t bother much trying to take care of them beyond pumice soap and the occasional application of vaseline or bag balm in the winter time when they get chapped.  But if that should change, suddenly he’s blisteringly self-conscious about his hands.  The spots where the skin is rough and peeling, the calluses that he’ll never be able to file down and the ones he is only just beginning to see fade (index finger, between the first and middle digits - his thumb still worries over it absently, as if trying to rub it out).  He buys a nail brush, starts using balm every night, trying to work the coarseness out of his hands before he ever dares to touch you with them. 

And god he wants to touch you.  Touch is a grounding thing for him, a much-needed anchor to keep him in the here and now.  If he’s near enough you’re almost certain to find his hands on you - snaking his fingers between yours, or resting his hand light and warm against your thigh when you come along for a drink with the boys, or pressing his palm flat and solid against your back to keep you steady when he walks you to the car after.  And that’s maybe the thing that clings to your bones the strongest: how safe those hands make you feel.  He’ll learn your body until he knows every dip and curve, knows the paths to skate his fingertips along, where to press in deep, where to only graze until he’s got every nerve singing.  But it’s that sense of safety that overwhelms you, that feeling when his hands cup your face or settle gently on your hips or close warmly around your own that there isn’t a force in the world that could hurt you as long as he’s there. 

Tell him so.  Fold his hands up in your own, brush your lips over his knuckles, and tell him that you know you’re in good hands - in the best hands.  It’ll nearly crack his heart in half to hear it.  He knows what those hands have done, no matter how hard he’s tried to wash them clean of it.  But if they can make you feel safe, then maybe they’re worth something after all.

Whiskey is too vain not to take care of his hands, let’s be honest. Though there is a bit of practicality to his vanity - there always is, somehow, like the grain of sand that spawns a pearl.  He learned early enough that if he was fool enough not to take care of his hands it played hell with his ability to use them properly, and much like Din, he fully recognizes that his hands are as much a necessary tool as anything Statesman could provide him.  Decades of experience with his lasso, whip, and guns have left the palms of his hands thickly callused (his right only slightly more so than his left), but careful attention has assured they’re never outright rough.  The way he uses those hands, though, that’s a different story.  They’re strong and shockingly clever, and just as greedy as the rest of him.  Whiskey has a permanent case of Roman hands and Russian fingers, all too likely to have his hand dangerously high up your thigh in public (and far higher still if you’ll let him), but always just out of the view of the people around you.  He’s a menace, through and through, but rest assured, he won’t be putting his hands on you unless he’s sure you want that (and if you do, he will absolutely make every second count - he is as greedy for your pleasure as he is his own).

If he’s managed to get himself in a state where there’s more than just his libido involved, well, it’d be disingenuous to suggest that tactile greed ever goes away, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that, but it does change.  He still wants to touch you (there isn’t a second in the day this man does not want to be touching you, somehow in some way), but it’s different.  It’s smaller touches among the big ones, almost innocuous.  Fixing your necklace when it’s crooked.  An idle stroke of his thumb along your wrist, or a brush of his fingers along your forehead to sweep the hair out of your eyes.  Helping you in or out of your coat, or taking a knee to do up the laces of your winter boots, or nuzzling ever so briefly into the back of your neck while his clever fingers cinch up a knot into the new apron you bought while you were on a baking kick.  The man’s got twenty years of latent domesticity stored up and he can’t quite help it if you bring it out in him.

When you meet Ezra, he’s down to just the one hand, though you don’t quite notice at first.  You're making your introductions - new dig crew, small, but seemingly well-seasoned, even counting the young girl that keeps a nervous orbit around Ezra - not quite clocking the way his right arm moves just a little different under the thick fabric of his suit until you close your hand around his and feel the hardness of metal under his glove.  If anyone is bold enough to ask how he lost the arm, he’ll just give a grin and insist it is not lost: he remembers exactly where he left it.  His remaining hand is striking somehow when you first see it without the thick gloves on.  Wide palm, thick fingers, a prominent thumb joint.  A small black target tattooed there in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.  But his right hand, his new hand, he never takes the glove off of that one.  It’s accident the first time you see the thing in full, poking your head in his tent to let him know breakfast is running a little late on account of a brief problem with the water pump.  You find him sitting on his bunk in a battered thermal shirt with one sleeve cut off, his suit shoved down to his waist as he wrestles the prosthetic into place as Cee adjusts the harness over his shoulders.  It’s by no means top of the line, but it’s no cheap thing, that much you can tell.  The fingers, you know by now are fully articulated, and you can see now the digits and palm are thickly padded with silicone grips.  Ezra’s face hardens at the intrusion, Cee freezing behind him like a startled deer.  But then he sees it’s only you and the tension drains, his face softening, and he assures you they’ll both be out in a tick, just as soon as he’s made himself presentable.

It’s weeks later that you realize he’s only ever touched you with his right hand once.  Just the handshake that first day.  It’s tough to notice, honestly.  He’s not one to crowd into your space if you don’t want it, unless of course he’s trying to make a point.  You remember the floater that had wandered into your camp trying to make trouble, and the way Ezra had put a seemingly amiable hand on the man’s shoulder as he talked, smiling big and broad, and it wasn’t until the man cried out, dropping to his knees and clutching uselessly at his shoulder that you realized the full strength he carries in that prosthetic.  But every time Ezra is close enough to you to touch, it’s his left that finds you.  He makes a point of it, even going so far as to stay to your right when you walk together, but you don’t fully notice until one day he turns to you with an awkward twist to take hold of your arm with his left rather than his right.

It’s later, much later, in the dim quiet of your own tent, when the small touches finally snowball into something larger and more urgent and finally you feel that hand on you, bare and broad and warm as he cups the back of your neck to draw you close, and he almost laughs into your mouth when you suddenly ask him why he does that.

“Dear heart, if I am to touch you, I mean to feel it.”

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#Anonymous #pedro pascal #din djarin #frankie morales #agent whiskey #jack whiskey daniels #ezra #ezra prospect #hands hands hands #shockingly tame all things considered #ezra's breaking pattern a bit but hell #I finished a thing #I'll take it #this is the part where I have a mild panic over whether or not I should be using taglists for headcanons #I think too much #idk lmk if you don't want to be tagged in these things #I'm gonna go drink coffee and wash dishes