#I even got myself a fancy set to try and it's the same

[its-no-biggie]

if you really want to get into the weeds, this is the current official romanization system of south korea, which i got from this page (both wikipedia links). its not really that unintuitive, you just have to learn a couple of the rules and then its very consistent. like how chinese romanization uses x q zh etc for sounds we dont have in english - you do kind of have to learn how to read it even if its in latin script.

personally i find it kind of annoying that fan translators are never consistent about this - i understand that yu jung-hyeok is less intuitive to english speakers but like. its not an english name. and if you always used oo and u for the vowels in joonghyuk, then seolhwa would be spelled sulhwa, which english speakers would intuitively pronounce more like seulhwa. so the translators dont do that, they leave it as seolhwa, but now that means we have two symbols for the same "uh" sound - u and eo. which actually makes it way more confusing, in my opinion.

take another example - lee gilyoung and shin yoosung. i thought these names rhymed for a long time (cause i mean, young rhymes with sung), but they dont. its two different vowels - using the revised romanization you get gil-yeong and yu-seung. and this is even worse in conjunction with yoo joonghyuk, because now we're using the letter u for two different sounds. so if each sound doesnt translate directly to a specific symbol, and each symbol doesnt translate to a specific sound, how are you supposed to know how anything is actually pronounced?

and now anytime im reading a fan tl of a manhwa ill see a name that has "jung" in it and be like. okay well is that jeong (as in jung heewon), joong (as in yu junghyeok), or jeung? its completely unclear, and i find myself having to compare the different character names in the manhwa to try and figure out what assumptions the translator is making about which pronunciation would be the most intuitive to me. and i cant even look up a standardized set of rules, because one already exists - theres actually several to choose from, if that one doesnt suit your fancy, but theyre usually not following any one of them. its frustrating!

so anyway. yes, both spellings are an attempt to convey the same pronunciation of 유중혁 to the reader. the "correct" spelling is yu jung-hyeok, in that it follows the standard that south korea uses currently (which also means you can look up how its pronounced without having to try to read hangeul. if you so desire). if you want a proper phonetic transliteration, the only way to do that without any ambiguity would be to use the international phonetic alphabet, which would look something like [ju.dʑuŋ.ɦjʌk̚]. but yeah the novel and the most popular fan tl of the webtoon both use joonghyuk so. its the most common spelling in the fandom. at the end of the day its not really a big deal i just like complaining 👍

(as a side note: i first read the original tl of the novel, not the edited one, which had it spelled "jonghyuk" - a spelling which is just. unquestionably incorrect. and then 3/4 of the way through, it got a new translator who abruptly started using the revised romanization spellings for every name. WILD reading experience. 10/10 recommend)

chat which spelling is correct is it junghyeok or joonghyuk

webtoon spells it junghyeok but the translation of the novel i’m reading spells it joonghyuk and im confused

wait are they just spelled differently but pronounced the same

[hoshifighting]

lee chan as your sugar baby!

— WARNINGS: sugar mommy x sugar baby relationship, smut, cock riding, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving). — (Seventeen as Sugar Baby's Series)

chan's fingers hovered over the keyboard, the couch under him squeaking as his friends shifted closer, eyes glued to his screen. the profile had been a joke, a dare born out of a boredom and too many beers. his bio was something ridiculous, like “lee chan, 25. likes dancing, long walks to the fridge, and avoiding adult responsibilities.” he doesn’t think much of it, just another one of those dumb things you do with friends that you forget about the next morning.

so when that notification popped up, he’d been fully ready to shrug it off.

“oh shit, someone actually bit,” seungkwan snorted, elbowing him in the ribs.

“no way,” vernon leaned in closer, practically draping himself over chan’s shoulder. “what, is it a granny looking for a toyboy?”

chan was already smirking, about to type back something half-assed, but then he clicked on the profile.

silence.

“bro…” was all soonyoung managed, voice dropping to something almost reverent.

you stared back at him from the screen, the photo set in dubai. expensive-ass bikini that screamed designer without being obnoxious about it, a pool so clear it could’ve been a goddamn mirror. every photo after that, some crazy tourist spot, one after the other. greece, italy, fucking bali. you were clearly someone who had their shit together, someone who probably had the same watch collection as his entire paycheck for the last year.

chan’s still staring at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard. he’s never seen anything like this before. you look like money, smell like money, like that fancy, understated kind of wealth that doesn’t need to brag.

“are you gonna reply or just keep ogling?” seungkwan’s voice snapped him out of it.

he glanced at the message again. just a simple “hi” but now another one had popped up.

��she’s typing again,” someone whispers, and chan snaps out of it, eyes darting back to the chat window.

“you’re real cute in that profile pic,” it read, followed by a winking emoji.

“well, fuck me,” chan muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “what the hell do i even say to that?”

“anything but something stupid,” vernon quipped, nudging him.

chan bites his lip, glancing at his friends who are all staring at him like this is the most important conversation of his life. and maybe it kinda is.

his fingers hovered again. you were out of his league in every way that mattered, but here you were, talking to him. and what was he? just some dude who loved dance and cheap beer. but fuck it. he wasn’t about to let that stop him.

“hii! you know, you look even better than all those tourist spots. might have to see for myself sometime...”

“oh my god, dude,” vernon whispered, trying not to laugh too loudly.

“he’s going in!” seungkwan half-yelled, covering his mouth in shock.

chan hit send and immediately regretted it, cheeks burning. “what? too much?”

“nah, man, that’s bold,” soonyoung said, barely containing his grin. “you might’ve just scored.”

seconds felt like hours, everyone staring at the screen, waiting. then, the notification pinged.

“lol, that’s cute,” you replied. “where you living rn?”

chan’s hands shook as he typed back. “seoul. just a humble dancer here. what about you? where you at?”

“imma bet she’s like, in some penthouse in new york or something,” soonyoung guessed.

chan rolled his eyes but waited, heart in his throat, until your next message popped up.

“france atm. here for work.”

“what the fuck?” chan whispered, blinking. “she’s in france? who just casually drops they’re in france?”

“she’s high-class, bro,” vernon chuckled, “better up your game.”

chan swallowed, typing back, “damn, france, huh? that’s far. what kind of work are you into?”

“bet she’s got some crazy job,” soonyoung mused, leaning in closer.

your reply came quicker this time. “i’m a director at a company. lots of traveling, lots of meetings, but it’s worth it.”

“right?” chan exhaled, trying to play it cool. “guess i better brush up on my french. so, when are you back in seoul?”

“soon,” you replied. “might need a tour guide when i get there. you up for the job?”

chan felt his heart skip a beat. “hell yeah, i’m up for it. i’ll make sure you see all the best spots.”

“even better if one of those spots is your place,” you teased.

his friends erupted into laughter, nearly falling off the couch as chan’s face turned beet red. “fuck… she’s smooth,” he mumbled, grinning despite himself.

“she’s gonna eat you alive, and you’re gonna love it,” vernon teased, leaning back into the couch, grinning ear to ear.

days passed, and his friends kept throwing out jokes, but none of them actually thought he’d go through with meeting you. it was supposed to be a dare, a laugh, nothing serious. but there chan was, pulling on the finest clothes he owned, trying to look like he belonged next to someone like you. black slacks, a crisp white shirt, the kind of fit that made him feel like maybe he could pass for someone with a little more class, some nice pants, and his best pair of shoes. it wasn’t designer, but it was the best he could do.

he paced in front of his apartment building, checking his phone every two seconds. his palms were already sweating, and his heart raced in his chest like it was trying to break free.

then, he saw it—a sleek black porsche 911 pulling up to the curb, the engine purring like a panther. “no fucking way,” he whispered to himself as the door opened and you stepped out, removing your sunglasses with a casual flick of your wrist. your gaze locking onto his. you were the picture of luxury, the kind of woman who had her shit together and didn’t let anyone forget it.

chan swallowed hard, his confidence from your messages feeling a little shaky now that you were right in front of him. “uh, hey,” he managed, running a hand through his hair.

you smiled, a slow, knowing curve of your lips as you approached him. “nice to finally meet you, chan,” you said, your voice smooth, like you were used to making people feel a little off-kilter.

“y-yeah, you too,” he stammered, trying to hold it together. “you look... wow.”

“thanks,” you replied, glancing at his outfit. “you clean up pretty well yourself.”

he chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “figured i should try to look the part.”

you gave him an appraising look before tilting your head towards the car. “so, you know how to drive?”

he blinked, caught off guard. “uh, yeah, of course.”

“good,” you said, tossing the keys his way. he barely caught them, fumbling a bit as he did. “why don’t you take us for a spin, then?”

“you want me to drive that?” chan asked, glancing back at the porsche, his nerves doubling.

you nodded, a glint in your eye. “you got it, pretty boy. show me what you can do.”

chan’s heart thudded in his chest as he walked over to the car, his hands still a little shaky as he slid into the driver’s seat. the leather was soft under his fingers, the kind of luxury he wasn’t used to, but damn if he didn’t feel like a king behind that wheel.

he started the engine, the car rumbling to life, and glanced over at you. you were watching him, your expression amused but with a hint of something else, something that made him feel like this was more than just a ride.

“so, where to first?” he asked, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

“how about we start with wherever you usually hang out?” you suggested, settling into the seat, your gaze flicking to him. “i want to see the city through your eyes.”

chan nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “okay, i can do that.”

chan had never felt so out of his element, yet so at ease. he’d taken you through his world, showing you his favorite spots around the city—the dance studio where he spent countless hours perfecting his moves, a little-known art exhibition that he’d insisted on paying for, despite your amused protests. now, the two of you strolled through a quiet park, the late afternoon sun casting a warm, golden glow over everything.

as you walked, chan led you to a secluded spot where an old statue stood, slightly weathered but still striking. it was a simple piece, a couple entwined in an embrace, their lips inches apart, forever captured in a moment of almost-kissing.

“so, this statue,” chan started, his voice a little softer now. “there’s this legend that if you kiss someone here, you’re supposed to stay together forever. something about how the artist sculpted it after he lost his wife. he wanted to capture their last moment together, just before they kissed, so they could be like that forever.”

you stopped, staring at the statue, then glanced at him with a knowing smile. “and here i thought you were just a dancer. didn’t know you were into old romantic tales, too.”

he shrugged, a bit bashful. “yeah, well, this place is special. it’s got a vibe, you know?”

“i know,” you replied, stepping closer to the statue, your hand brushing over its surface. “i’ve actually been here before. in fact, i’ve been to every place you showed me today.”

chan’s eyes widened in surprise, a mix of shock and curiosity flooding his expression. “wait, you did? why didn’t you say anything?”

you turned to face him, your gaze locking onto his. “i just wanted to spend time with you. i wanted to see how you experience these places, what they mean to you.”

“that’s… actually pretty sweet.”

you nodded, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, your body almost brushing against his. “you think so?”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you fading into the background. chan could feel the words hanging between you like a challenge and an invitation all at once.

“well,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “there’s still one thing we haven’t done yet.”

“what’s that?” you asked, your voice equally soft, a teasing edge to it.

chan didn’t answer with words. instead, he slowly closed the distance between you, his hands gently resting on your hips. you could feel the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding back, not wanting to rush, but there was no mistaking the want in his eyes.

and then he kissed you.

it started slow, like he was savoring the first taste. his lips were soft against yours, but there was a firmness in the way he held you. the kiss deepened, his hands sliding up your sides, feeling the smooth, expensive fabric of your dress under his fingertips. it was like touching pure luxury, and it made his heart race even faster.

you responded in kind, your hands sliding over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath his shirt. he was strong, solid, and the contrast between his ruggedness and your refinement sent a thrill through you. you pressed closer, feeling the heat of his body, the way his breath mingled with yours.

he pulled you even closer, his hands now fully around your waist, one sliding up your back as if trying to memorize every inch of you. there was nothing between you and the world but this kiss, this moment, where time seemed to stretch and bend around the two of you.

the kiss was everything—soft and sweet, yet desperate and consuming, like neither of you wanted it to end. his scent surrounded you, a combination of something clean and musky, grounding you even as the kiss made you feel like you were floating.

you pulled back slightly, your lips lingering close to his. you could still feel the ghost of his kiss on your mouth.

chan’s apartment is exactly what you imagined—small, cozy, clean, and it smells like fresh laundry mixed with something musky that’s all him. it’s simple, a little too bare maybe, but there’s something comforting about it. like it’s a place where he can just be himself.

“it’s not much,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he leads you inside. “definitely not what you’re used to. not fancy or anything, but… it’s home.”

you smile at him, stepping further into the living room. “i like it,” you say, and you mean it. it’s a place that feels real, lived-in, and right now, it’s exactly where you want to be.

chan watches you carefully, like he’s trying to gauge your reaction, but when he sees the smile on your face, some of that tension leaves his shoulders. he looks at you, a little nervous, but you can see the desire underneath, the way he’s holding himself back.

“so,” you say, stepping closer to him, letting your body brush against his. he’s solid, all hard muscle and pent-up energy, and you can feel the heat radiating off him. “you gonna give me the full tour?”

his breath hitches when you press against him, your lips so close to his that he can practically taste you already. “uh, yeah,” he says, his voice low and a little rough. “i mean, it’s not a big place or anything, but…”

you don’t let him finish. instead, you lick his lips with the tip of your tongue, just a quick, teasing flick that has him groaning almost immediately. his hands twitch at his sides, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you yet.

“chan,” you murmur, your lips ghosting over his. “why don’t you show me the whole place?”

his eyes darken, his hands finally coming up to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. “you mean… like, now?”

“now,” you confirm, giving him a slow, sultry smile. “and maybe we can start with the bedroom.”

chan doesn’t need to be told twice. he practically drags you down the short hallway, your laughter echoing off the walls as he fumbles with the door. the second you’re inside, his hands are on you, pulling you close, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it.

you push him back toward the bed, feeling the mattress hit the back of your legs as you fall onto it together. chan’s kisses are hungry, almost desperate, and you can feel him trembling slightly, the anticipation building between you.

“fuck, you’re so hot,” he mutters against your lips, his hands sliding under your shirt, feeling the soft skin beneath.

you smirk, running your hands down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his muscles. “you’re not so bad yourself,” you tease, slipping your hand lower, brushing over the bulge in his jeans.

chan’s breath catches in his throat, his hips bucking up into your touch. “shit,” he groans, his head falling back as you palm him through the fabric.

you undo his jeans, sliding them down just enough to free his cock, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes as the cool air hits him. he’s already rock hard, thick and pulsing in your hand, and when you lean down to take him into your mouth, the sound he makes is nothing short of pathetic.

“fuck, oh fuck,” he moans, his hands gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles turn white. “shit, your mouth… feels so good.”

you hum around him, swirling your tongue over the tip, tasting the salty bead of precum there. chan’s hips jerk involuntarily, and you can feel how desperate he is, how much he’s holding back. you start moving your mouth up and down his length, taking him deeper each time, and the way he’s losing his mind over it is almost enough to make you lose control.

“i… i can’t—” chan gasps, his voice shaking as he tries to hold on. “i’m gonna… fuck, i’m gonna cum.”

you don’t stop, sucking harder, taking him all the way to the back of your throat. chan’s moans are getting louder, more broken, and you can feel his cock throbbing, his whole body tensing up as he gets closer and closer.

“fuck, i’m cumming, i’m—” he chokes out, his hips bucking up as he spills into your mouth. his whole body shakes, his moans turning into desperate, breathless gasps as he rides out the high, his fingers digging into the sheets like he’s afraid he’ll float away.

you don’t let up, even as he starts to soften in your mouth, your tongue teasing him, milking every last drop out of him. chan’s breath comes in ragged pants, his body twitching uncontrollably as you keep going.

“s-stop,” he pleads, his voice hoarse, almost broken. “too much… can’t…”

you pull back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand as you crawl up his body. “too much?” you ask, your voice full of teasing. “we’re just getting started.”

chan barely has time to process that before you’re straddling him, your body pressing down onto his still sensitive cock. he gasps, his hands flying to your hips, but he’s too overwhelmed to do anything more than hold on as you start moving.

“fuck, fuck, i can’t,” he whimpers, his head falling back against the pillows, his eyes screwed shut. “i can’t, it’s too much.”

“you can take it,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss him, your hands sliding up his chest. “just relax, let me take care of you.”

chan groans, his hips bucking up into you even though every nerve in his body is screaming at him to stop. the overstimulation is driving him insane, every touch of your body, every movement making him tremble, his hands gripping the pillow like it’s his lifeline. he’s never felt anything like this before, never thought he could feel this good and this overwhelmed at the same time.

you can feel him trembling beneath you, his whole body tense with the effort of holding on. it’s almost too much for him, but you don’t stop, not yet. you want to push him just a little further, want to see how far you can take him.

chan brought out something in you that you hadn’t felt in years. it wasn’t just the excitement of being with someone young and full of life—it was how he made you feel, like every moment with him was a break from the weight of the world. he had this way of dragging you out of your high-stress life and dropping you into something simple, fun, and completely unpretentious.

like that time he took you to the amusement park. you hadn’t been to one in ages, but there you were, screaming your lungs out on roller coasters, laughing so hard you thought you’d cry, and holding his hand through it all. it wasn’t fancy, wasn’t anything like the high-end places you usually found yourself in, but it was exactly what you needed. chan made you feel alive in a way you’d forgotten was possible.

then there were the movie dates, sitting in those darkened theaters with him, your feet up on the seat in front of you like a couple of carefree kids. he’d always pick the cheesiest movies, and you’d groan, but somehow, they ended up being exactly what you needed. you loved watching his face light up during the action scenes or how he’d lean in close to whisper jokes in your ear, making you laugh so much you’d miss half the movie.

but it wasn’t just the dates. it was the little things. like when he’d have one of his fashion shows for you, parading around your massive living room in the new clothes you’d gotten him. the way he’d strike ridiculous poses, just to make you smile, or how his face would light up when you genuinely praised him, making him feel like he was on top of the world.

and you loved being by his side when his friends came over. they had this infectious energy, pulling you into their world effortlessly. you even found yourself spoiling them now and then, slipping one of them some cash or buying them a round of drinks, because they took care of chan so well, and you appreciated that more than you could say.

chan balanced you in a way that was almost scary. no matter how tired you were after a long day at work, he was your constant source of energy, always there, always ready to make you feel better. you’d stop by some luxury brand store on the way home, picking up a few things for him because you knew he’d love it, and because it made you happy to spoil him a little.

you knew that when you walked through the door, he’d be there, waiting for you. sometimes, he’d pull you into bed, his arms wrapped around you as he coaxed you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you drifted off. other times, he’d be more playful, those dancer’s hips of his working magic as he eased the stress out of your body in ways that made you forget all about the bullshit of the day.

“missed you,” he’d murmur, his voice husky and full of affection as he pressed a kiss to your neck.

“missed you too,” you’d reply, your hands finding their way to his hips, pulling him closer. “you always know how to make everything better.”

and it was true. chan wasn’t just a breath of fresh air—he was your escape, your balance, the thing that made everything else worth it.

[caoimhewritesfics]

Vacation

I was just on vacation and it got me thinking about how TF 141 + König act on vacation with you so here's some headcanons

CW: None

WC: 669

Ghost isn't really the kind of guy to go on vacation. He's a "stay at home and relax" man, enjoying the short amount of time he gets at home with you. "I'm always off on deployment, I don't understand why I would use my time at home to just ship myself off somewhere else," he always says. You're in disbelief when you finally manage to convince him to actually travel anywhere farther than the couch with you. He won't complain though, he'll feel too guilty if he does. So, he begrudgingly putters through the airport with you. Amusement parks are a big no for him. Too many people, long lines, overpriced food? Yeah he'll pass. But, if you take him somewhere quiet and peaceful, he'll love it. If he can sit around reading his books or window shopping in a small rural town, he'll be on top of the world.

König HATES planes. Being 6'10 makes the small spaces difficult. So, expect to be on a train or something much less cramped to get to your destination. He loves to hike and he's very intense about sunscreen use. Expect for him to be making sure you reapply it every two hours and no swimming until it's fully soaked in. Loves going to remote places with a small bed and breakfast. He'll be up early as usual, activities planned out in extreme detail. He has a detailed itinerary of every day. The breakfast is always set at exactly the same time, and he already has a map of the trails you’ll explore that day, marking spots along with estimated times of arrival. He likes to make the hikes an all day activity so he packs plenty of snacks for when you're out so you don't get hungry.

Price is an airport dad. He will make sure you're there several hours early. By the time you get to the check-in counter, he’s already double-checked your boarding passes, your IDs, and even your luggage tags, just in case. You’ve barely made it past security, and he’s already on the phone with the airline, double-confirming the gate and asking the attendant how early they’ll start boarding. He’s acting like he’s planning a military operation. He's basically power walking through the airport to your gate. While you’re busy teasing him, he’s already five steps ahead, securing the perfect spot to sit near the gate, ensuring you’re in an area that’s both close enough to the restrooms and far enough from the crowds. You can’t even get to your seat before he’s asking if you’ve got your passport, your phone, your charger, your headphones, he even offers you a neck pillow.

Gaz is really into the local scene. He spends weeks prior to your trip researching non-tourist spots that locals love. He says he wants an "authentic travel experience." He doesn't really go for the thrill seeking activities, he's much more of a city explorer. He's really into a chill vacation where he can just spend time with you exploring a new place. He's so organized that the whole trip goes smoothly. He has all the documents like passports, plane tickets, ID"s on hand at all times. Takes pictures of EVERYTHING. He loves to make them "artsy". Once you get home he's getting the pictures printed and putting them in a special photo album.

Soap is over the moon when it comes to vacation. He loves a good trip. He's down to go anywhere and do pretty much anything. If you want to go to a fancy resort and just sit by the pool he's more than happy, but if you want to go on a wilderness retreat he's all for it. Loves an amusement park. Even if it's crowded and the lines are long he's still having a great time. He would love trying all the different foods that are in the park. Much like Price, he is an airport dad all the way. He's the most prepared person in that airport (besides Price).

[sillywizardman]

HI!!! After finishing Disco Elysium I wanted to read Sacred and Terrible Air, but there were two issues:

1. It’s not officially released in English

2. I don’t like staring at pdfs!

So I did what any sane person would do. That is take three days of my life printing and binding it.

TRANSLATION (“thank you Group Ibex” we all say in unison!):

PROCESS PICS:

I apologize in advance for anyone who has experience in this sort of thing this is so botched.

I have NEVER done anything like this before, I don’t even read books on my own volition, but if the Disco fixation wants me to learn how to sew and bookbind I’ll do that.

Four of the signatures above. There were nine total, eight of them with 8 sheets/32 pages and the last was five sheets I think. Threw the pdf into adobe acrobat and went straight to printing with those settings and the “booklet” option enabled.

Pricked holes through each signature! Used thumbtacks and a piece of foam I scavenged from my room, worked out great. It’s probably also worth mentioning I do not have a bone folder, book press, or any of the other fancy schmancy bookbinding tools. Flattened the pages with a pencil and pressed with D&D books…

SEWING TIME. I have never sewn in my life. My success in this regard can be majorly attributed to Sea Lemon on youtube, particularly this tutorial:

The process from printing to finishing sewing the signatures took ~8 hours. Now we hit our first roadblock, I had no glue for the spine! After going to sleep and waiting what felt like ages (literally 10 hours or so) before I was free to visit a craft store, I tried to find PVA glue because that’s what you’re supposed to use I think?? Yeah. They were out of PVA glue and my impatient ass got mod podge.

‘Tis glued! As you can see I added cardstock to the ends. Joyous day.

Also, you see that sketchbook in the pic? Yeah? You see that lovely cardboard?

It is now the cover. Rest in piss bristol sketchpad backing.

———

EDIT: I see a bunch of people want to attempt this so here’s a video on how to make the hardcover: https://youtu.be/Av_rU-yOPd4?si=7T5zgVJGAfPFBxn-

I didn’t use any measurements or advice from it but it’s a good reference for when it comes to assembling the cover from ~3:50 onwards. The boards are same size as your text block pages and spine, I think I made the cover width a bit longer just in case it doesn’t cover the text block though. Do not do this with the spine, I regret it.

And note, this is NOT a tutorial, it is the process of someone who got a bit too silly and decided to bind a book, obviously do your own research lol. Don’t be afraid to try it though, it’s surprisingly simple!

———

… So, now that’s done! I swore to myself I wouldn’t start reading SATA/PJÕL until I finished this project completely, meaning I’ll be doing that now yippee :]

[pankowcrumbs]

Don't Tell Your Brother X Joseph Quinn

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

I never imagined that visiting my brother on a film set would lead to such an unexpected encounter. Will had always been protective of me. So, when he invited me to visit the set of his latest film, Warfare, I was both excited and apprehensive.

The set was a hive of activity, with actors in military gear and crew members bustling about. Will greeted me with a warm hug, introducing me to some of his co-stars. Among them was Joseph Quinn, who played a fellow soldier in the film.

"Y/N, this is Joseph," Will said. "Joseph, my little sister, Y/N."

Joseph extended his hand, a charming smile on his face. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," I replied, shaking his hand.

Over the next few days, I spent more time on set, observing the filming process and chatting with the cast and crew. Joseph seemed to be everywhere I turned, always finding a reason to strike up a conversation.

"Need a tour of the set?" he offered one afternoon.

"Sure," I said, intrigued.

As we walked, Joseph pointed out various locations and shared anecdotes about the filming. His wit and charisma were undeniable, and I found myself laughing more than I had in a long time.

"You know," he said, leaning in slightly, "it's rare to meet someone who isn't part of this industry. It's refreshing."

I blushed, unsure of how to respond.

That evening, Joseph approached me again. "Fancy grabbing a coffee tomorrow? Just the two of us."

I hesitated, aware of Will's protective nature. "I don't know..."

"Come on," he coaxed. "It's just coffee."

Against my better judgment, I agreed.

The next day, we met at a quaint café near the set. Our conversation flowed effortlessly, covering everything from our favourite books to our childhood memories. Joseph was attentive, genuinely interested in what I had to say.

As we walked back, he stopped and looked at me. "Y/N, I know this might be forward, but I'd like to see you again."

I was taken aback. "Joseph, you're my brother's co-star. If he found out..."

"He doesn't have to know," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I laughed, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

"Is that a yes?"

I sighed, smiling. "Maybe."

Over the next few weeks, Joseph and I continued to see each other in secret. We shared stolen moments and whispered conversations, always careful not to arouse suspicion.

One evening, as we sat on a bench overlooking the city, Joseph turned to me. "Y/N, I know this started as a bit of fun, but I genuinely care about you."

I looked into his eyes, seeing sincerity. "I care about you too."

Suddenly, a voice interrupted our moment. "Y/N? Joseph?"

We both jumped as if electrocuted, spinning around to find Will standing a few feet away, eyes narrowed and confused.

“Oh, we were just...” I started, too quickly.

“Talking about set stuff,” Joseph cut in at the same time. “Uh, lighting. The lighting on set.”

I blinked. “Yes. That’s right. Lighting. And, um, schedules.”

“Yeah, how lighting affects the... schedule,” Joseph added, clearly fumbling.

Will looked between us, brows raised. “Since when do you care about set lighting, Y/N?”

I opened my mouth, panicking slightly. “I was just curious about Joseph’s, um, acting technique and how lighting affects... his performance.”

Joseph gave me a look like he was trying not to laugh and made a quick recovery. “Yeah. I was explaining how I like to be lit... properly.”

I coughed. “Exactly.”

Will blinked. “Right. So... you two are just hanging out. Talking about lighting and technique.”

“Yes!” we both blurted in unison.

He looked at us suspiciously, but shrugged. “Alright then. Bit random, but... fine.”

As he walked off, Joseph and I let out the breath we’d both been holding, exchanging a wide-eyed look.

“That,” I whispered, “was far too close.”

“No kidding,” he murmured. “We’ve got to be more careful. I’m a terrible liar under pressure.”

I elbowed him, trying not to grin. “Lighting? Really?”

“You went with schedule!”

We laughed together, shoulders brushing. But deep down, we both knew something had shifted. The lie, the panic it didn’t feel like something casual anymore.

A few days later the morning light seeped through the blinds, casting soft streaks across the tangled sheets. My limbs were wrapped around Joseph’s, our bare skin warm beneath the duvet. I stirred, letting my eyes flutter open slowly.

He was already awake, brushing a lazy hand through my hair, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Morning,” I murmured, voice thick with sleep.

“Hi,” he said gently, his eyes soft and thoughtful.

There was a pause. That comfortable silence that happens when you don’t want to break something good but also when something important is coming.

“I want this,” he said finally.

I blinked up at him. “You have this.”

“No, I mean... I want this you and me for real. No sneaking around. No lying to Will.”

I stared at him, my heart climbing up into my throat. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I know we started this all wrong. But every time I’m with you, I realise I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t want to hide it. I want to tell him.”

There was sincerity in his voice. It shook me a little.

“He’s going to be mad,” I said quietly, brushing my fingers across his chest.

“He probably is,” Joseph agreed. “But he’ll get over it. Because he loves you. And I love you too.”

My breath caught.

“I love you,” he said again, firmer. “And if this is going to work really work it starts with honesty.”

I pressed my forehead to his, my heart racing. “Okay,” I whispered. “We tell him.”

He smiled then, pulling me in closer, wrapping us both in the sheets and whatever brave, messy thing this was between us because it finally felt real.

And worth the risk.

It felt like we were walking to our execution.

Joseph and I moved through the corridors of the studio, side by side but oddly quiet. My palms were clammy. His fingers occasionally brushed mine, but he didn’t take my hand this time. We were too focused. Too aware of the potential for disaster.

“Are you sure we should do this today?” I whispered, eyeing the studio door ahead.

Joseph gave me a side glance. “If I think about it any longer, I’ll back out and then we’re hiding for the next year. No thanks.”

Fair.

We stepped inside and found Will exactly where we knew he’d be in the green room with his coffee, perched on the sofa, flipping through a script. He looked up as we entered, smiling casually.

“Alright?” he greeted, giving us each a nod.

I looked at Joseph. Joseph looked at me.

I cleared my throat. “Hey... um. Got a second?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Sure. What’s going on?”

Joseph shifted his weight. “So... you know how you saw us talking the other day? About... ‘lighting’ and... ‘schedules’...?”

Will didn’t blink. “Yeah. Lighting. Schedules. Very compelling stuff.”

I groaned softly. “Okay, so obviously that was a lie.”

Will leaned back, arms folded. “Obviously.”

Joseph took a breath. “We’re together. Like... romantically.”

There was a pause.

A long one.

I braced myself. Prepared for yelling. Fury. A lecture. The sound of a mug shattering.

Instead, Will blinked at us once. Then slowly broke into a grin.

“Oh wow, what a shock,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You mean to tell me the guy who couldn’t look me in the eye for two weeks was actually trying to shag my sister?”

“Will!” I hissed, heat crawling up my face.

“Oh no, please, go on,” he teased. “Tell me more about how ‘lighting’ was really code for ‘let’s sneak off and snog behind the trailers’.”

Joseph rubbed his face in embarrassment. “Okay, fair. That’s deserved.”

Will chuckled, then shook his head. “Look, I’m not stupid. I figured something was going on ages ago. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. You act like you're in a bloody Richard Curtis film.”

Joseph and I stared at him, mouths slightly open.

“You’re... not mad?” I asked cautiously.

“Mad?” Will echoed. “No. Look, you’re adults. You can do what you want. You’re not twelve.”

I blinked. “...Are you secretly a clone?”

Will smirked. “Don’t push it.”

Joseph laughed, visibly relieved. “You have no idea how nervous we were.”

Will leaned over, clapped a hand on Joseph’s shoulder and suddenly his grin disappeared.

“But in all seriousness, mate... I will kill you if you hurt her.”

Joseph blinked. “Understood.”

“I mean it,” Will added, voice low, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You break her heart and I’ll break your kneecaps.”

“Message received,” Joseph said quickly, hands up. “No kneecaps in danger here.”

Will’s smile returned. “Good. Now, can we all get back to work before I regret this moment of maturity?”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. We’d survived. And now... it was real. Open. No more hiding.

As we turned to leave, Joseph leaned closer and whispered, “That went better than expected.”

I whispered back, “You’re lucky you still have your kneecaps.”

He smirked. “They’re all yours, love.”

[snek-panini]

March and April are always quiet bookbinding months for me, because I'm recovering from Binderary and this year I'm also in the market for a new printer. But I did take the time to make these very handsome fellows, and they're a new kind of project for me in a couple of ways. They're anthologies! With themes! Spaces Between is a collection of Good Omens ghost stories, and Roaming the Night is similar but with vampire and werewolf stories. They're both multi-author works and the stories within aren't affiliated beyond the fact that they're my favorites and mostly too short for case binds, but I think they came together really cohesively and I love them to bits.

More pics under the cut, including links to the stories at the end.

First, some individual photos. These are legal quartos, very nice to hold. That's marbled paper on the cover, though it is the lineco brand and I'm not sure if it's actually marbled or just printed. The text is silver foil htv. The spines and fore edges are book cloth. I had originally planned to do a more traditional 3/4 bind, with corner caps, but my marbled paper was a little too skinny to do the fore edge turn-in, and I've wanted to do a bind like this for a bit so this was an excellent opportunity. And it won't be the last time; I really like how they look and feel.

Spine view and top view. More silver foil, matching handmade endbands in red and black, and the same gray ribbon for the bookmark. I love making books in this pattern, where they're not a matched set but enough details are the same to make them feel like they go together.

Case in point, Roaming has the red cover with the gray paper for its endpapers, and Spaces has the gray cover with the red one for its endpapers. They're inverses of each other and I could not be more delighted with them.

Interiors for Roaming the Night. Vampires on the title page and werewolves in the table of contents. I couldn't decide between them so I incorporated them both. I'm trying to jazz up my ToC designs and this one turned out very well. Don't strain your eyes trying to read the titles; I've got links at the end to all but one of them.

Title page and Toc for Spaces Between. I wasn't originally going to have an image on the ToC for this one, but after I added one for Roaming I thought Spaces should have one too. And at least four of the stories in it involve a haunted building or structure, so a spooky key was definitely the way to go.

The titles for both books are my own invention; they are not named for any one story in the collections. I struggled with that a bit (I hate naming things, it's the hardest part of any creative project). I've done the whole "(Longest Story Title) and Other Stories" before and it's a fine approach, but given that there are multiple authors and they're not in sequence with each other it just didn't feel appropriate to elevate one writer's story over the others that way. I like what I settled on though, even if it was hard.

Typeset photos! They're pretty straightforward. I don't like to get too fancy on quarto typesets; I don't usually feel like there's enough space on the page. I've only just realized that the photos are both entanglednow stories, oops.

Another set of interiors that only fellow typesetters are going to think is neat. I finally figured out how to make Word put different headers in each section, so every story has its own title and author at the top of the page. I think this'll only be useful in anthologies, but I am very proud of myself and I think it looks very professional.

That's it for photos! Beyond this point are links to the stories, my reasons for loving them, and tags for the authors.

The stories included in Spaces Between are:

13 Days of Halloween (series by @entanglednow)--I always love entangled’s way with worldbuilding. Their stories always feel complete and lived-in and that’s a wonderful thing in fandom. Even though not every story in this series is an exact fit for the collection, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave any of them out. Filing Room 57 and A Friend in Need in particular have stuck with me for years.

Soaked (@racketghost)--a bit of a loose interpretation of the theme. There’s no ghost in it, nothing inexplicable and horrifying. The fear is entirely explicable and very sexy, in ways that the other stories here are not. But it absolutely nails the atmosphere. Spooky. Unnerving. It just so happens that it’s also playful. It’s a very interesting balance.

The Wrong Side of the Door (@holycatsandrabbits)--singularly unnerving. I love how the beginning so closely catches the feeling of sensational reality TV ghost hunters and then pulls the perfect shift and makes the horror real. I also love that in spite of our two leads professing how much they hate each other, they’d still run into a burning/haunted/otherwise terrible and dangerous building if the other was trapped inside. That’s devotion.

Last Crossing (also by holycatsandrabbits)--Atmosphere is everything to me in horror and Dannye always nails it. This is such an inventive premise, and it’s like I can see outlines of a bigger story; I want there to be more. Something about maritime disasters in particular resonates really hard for me and God the imagery in this one is so incredibly unnerving. I want to sink my teeth into it.

Haunted (@tawnyontumblr)--the one I went back and forth about including for the longest time. The ghosts in it are not real, are a manifestation of very old regrets, as opposed to the literal real ghosts in the others. But it’s a powerful story about accepting help when you need it, and about all the ways in which things can be haunted. And above all it feels like a horror movie, and even more importantly it’s my anthology and I wanted this in it. I am eating it up. Delicious.

the thirteenth night (@forineffablereasons)--I love how they’ve incorporated so many horror tropes into one story, and that the supernatural terrors retain their sense of menace even when the ones facing them are so strongly magical on their own. It’s still a believable threat even though they aren’t in an AU where everyone’s human. Brilliantly done, I love it.

The stories in Roaming the Night are:

In the Blood (entanglednow)--excellent character work, as always. There are no vampires in the Good Omens canon, but damned if this isn’t what they’d be like if there were. It’s also extremely sexy and has top-notch pining in spite of its relatively short length. I’ve always loved entangled's approach to unconventional sex practices and this is no exception. It was one of the first stories I thought of when I first conceptualized this anthology.

Love in the Wild (entanglednow)--love the trust on display between the characters. Again, they’ve got an unconventional relationship and they’ve had to adapt to that, and that willingness to make it work is the crux around which the whole story turns. The love is always there.

Night Walk (@snae-b)--I want this to be novel-length so badly. It’s got fantastic worldbuilding and I feel like I’m just getting glimpses of it from the other side of a curtain. Snae’s fic always has really unique settings, though usually their stories are much longer and often more overtly horror-focused. And I love how this one in particular preserves the forbidden relationship dynamic that’s so compelling in the Good Omens fandom. Delicious.

Food For Thought--tragically I can't link this one as it was a WorseOmens story and they removed all their fics at the end of last year. I had an offline backup saved or I wouldn't have been able to include it at all. You'll never see this, friend, and I know you must have had your reasons, but I know I'm not the only one who misses you and wishes you well.

Every Wolf Needs to Howl (tawnyowl)--another story that I knew from first conception had to be in this volume. The overwhelming majority of werewolf fics in this fandom are Werewolf Aziraphale, or Both Werewolves, or Oops All Porn. (Not that that’s a complaint. I just want some plot and character in my smut, and that’s where this fic delivers. And Werewolf Crowley is hot too.) It’s another star on the worldbuilding front; I’d read more chapters of this about the characters’ backgrounds and what it’s like living on the moors.

For Life (tawnyowl)--like a quarter of the GO werewolf fics of the right length for this book are Tawny’s. Thanks friend, please keep up the good work. Helping each other heal from trauma is always a compelling narrative, and again I would read more of this to find out about the world and watch the relationship develop. It’s got an interesting approach of shedding the “monster” identity by embracing it, using it to redefine the self. Both of our leads have done this and they’re using that experience to empathize with each other. And it’s hot. The communication and acceptance is hot and also the sex is hot. Both can be true at once.

Less Dark A Place (orphaned)--including this fic was almost an accident. I was looking for something to bump up the page count and accidentally found a gem. God it’s so compelling, it’s a tragedy that the author orphaned it, whoever they were. I’d love to read more about how their relationship changes and how they both handle the challenges that you know without a doubt they will face. This would have made an incredible novel-length work. Leaving them on the precipice is compelling in its own way though—they’re teetering on the edge of something new and scary and uncertain, which is a lot like how an intense new romance feels even in real life.

Doggone Batty (@kedreeva)--the reason I decided to do both werewolves and vampires in the same anthology. I love the asexual and aromantic approach to relationships. I’m asexual myself so I appreciate seeing those relationships done this well; they don’t need to do those things in order to want to be close. The relationship doesn’t even have room for that, it’s too full of other things for me to think about what it doesn't have. I love the hilarious misunderstandings in this fic, the bit where Aziraphale learns how to do a thing just because it’s fun (barking at a closed door like an idiot), the twist is ludicrous (compliment), and I want to give them both hugs and couch cuddles.

Phew! That's a lot of text. Hopefully tumblr doesn't get huffy with me for including too many links and tags.

[on1knee4marksmen]

Gala Glamour

Patch x fem! reader drabble

Quick little drabble because I saw this post and I burst out laughing

I fear this cannot be read as platonic💔 (but knowing myself I'll probably write a platonic fic with the gala experience in the future)

Reader being madly in love and thirsting as a whole lol. Just a tad bit suggestive (?) but it's for the giggles, nothing serious!! So sfw :)

Fem presenting reader

Envisioning Marvel Rivals Logan, specifically his Patch skin >:)

Tonight is the night. The one night a year where you get to fully immerse yourself and stop worrying. Fully take in the flashing lights, the official, fancy setting you seldom get to enjoy. To try to grow used to the cameras, the many people. To see old friends and form new connections. To eat and drink, dance and laugh. To have a good time.

The Hellfire Gala.

Now, usually, you weren't ecstatic about big social events - you'd much rather go somewhere with a small group of friends. But today? Oh, today, you were practically vibrating with excitement.

You didn't get to doll yourself up much anymore - with the constant missions you were on, plus the eventual "babysitting" of the students, you didn't have much time for yourself. Hence why you were going all out for tonight.

...Hence why you were running a liiiitle late.

Your couldn't help it - from an everything shower, to consultations with Storm about jewelry that goes with your dress, to doing heatless curls, to makeup, to packing a bag - you got caught up a bit. And you were still at the makeup part...

...You were still at the makeup part when you felt your phone buzz beside you on the table. When you looked down, you saw something that didn't happen often - Logan was texting you.

Now, Logan didn't really... well, go hand-to-hand with new technology. So you were more used to him calling you.

...But you were for sure intrigued when you saw the notification:

- New messages (2): -----------------------

Lo<3

where ya at with the prep darlin?? you ready soon?

1 attachment "which bowtie matches your dress better"

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

Awww,he was purposefully matching his bowtie with your dress?? You might've just fallen even deeper in love with him at that very moment. With a warmth in your chest and a smile on your face, you hit the notification to see the attachment - presumably a picture of said bowties.

...

It was not a picture of only the bowties.

What you saw when you opened the attachment made your heart stop beating and your jaw drop. Logan. Your Logan. The same Logan that owns one pair of jeans and a thousand different wife pleasers and flannels. In a suit.

A mirror pic of your man in a white suit, looking like it was made for him with the way it defines his body and features, with black dress pants, with his hair tidied and slicked back just a little, yet keeping its iconic shape and kind of scruffy vibe. With one eye covered with an eye patch, the other looking down at his reflection in a focused, almost intense way, - that makes you bite your lip - with one hand holding the phone horizontally, in an awkward position, trying to catch everything in the photo, and with the other hand holding two bowties up to his neck. Both in shades of the colour of your dress?

...

And you're expected to react civilly to that??

You don't realise how much time you've taken to just... stare and gawk in awe at that one singular picture, until you see a new message pop up:

Lo<3: darlin?

Next thing you know, you've forgotten any makeup brush and any contour that needs fixing - you're hastily grabbing your phone to text back:

You: Hold on hun, I'm almost there

Lo<3 is typing...

You: And I don't mean at your doorstep ;)

[https-murdock]

Slow Dancing - Matt Murdock

summary: Matt is trying to teach you how to slow dance, but he just wants to show you how beautiful you are.

word count: 1.1k

warning: oral f receiving - that's all just lots of fluff!! 18+ MDNI

note: in a fluffy mood, hope you all enjoy :)

“Yeah, and then you just-” Matt says, one hand on your waist and the other confidently holding your hand. He lets go of your waist to spin you around, the sound of your giggles making his heart skip a beat.

He can hear the way your heart has slowed. Usually it’s much faster, things making you nervous or worry a lot - but he always noticed that when it was just you and him, the world seemed to slow down. It was the same for him - his mind usually focused on a new case, someone else he needed to go and save, but with you it felt like everything stopped.

He had a gala coming up, something to do with some fancy new client or something - you didn't quite understand why he needed to go, never mind take you along with him. But you didn't know how to dance still, and Matt was determined to show you how - so here you both were, slow dancing in his loft under the beaming red lights of the billboard outside.

“You’re much better than me,” You laugh, looking up at him as he sways still with you pulled close to him, “I don't wanna embarrass you in front of that many people.” And Matt immediately laughs - and for a second you wonder if he's about to tell you that you shouldn't come anymore, until he says “You think i won't embarrass myself anyway?”

The giggle he hears you let out makes him smile even wider, hearing your happiness always sets something off inside of him. He would do anything to make you smile, even if it means embarrassing himself in front of a lot of rich people.

“I love you.” You speak, and your voice is suddenly a mere whisper as you look up at him, and realise both of you have stopped dancing, and you’re just holding each other. “I love you too.” He replies, and again things are slow, nothing else matters and in a moment of such a small piece of affection you wonder how your feelings for Matt got so strong. Everything about him was so perfect, you often wondered how he was all yours. 

He raises his hands to your face, pulling you closer and letting his lips meet yours - and it's like the first time you kissed all over again. 

“You’re so… beautiful,” He speaks, lips still touching yours as he starts to lead you toward his bedroom, “My perfect girl.” 

Matt picks you up by your thighs, still in his suit from work, you in one of his shirts from your day at home. When he throws you onto the bed, your head hitting the pillows, you let out a little laugh - something that sends a shock right to his core. Matt would give anything to make you laugh forever, make you sound like an angel's song underneath him all night.

“Matt-” You start, sitting up onto your knees as he stands at the end of the bed, beginning to unbutton his shirt, desperate to see some skin. “Need you so bad, sweetheart.” He whispers, the sound of his belt unbuckling making you clench your thighs together in an act of need for friction.

He finally undresses himself, crawling above you on the bed and meeting your hips with his, grinding downwards and feeling the heat coming from your core. Matt groans above you, his tongue meeting yours, the kiss deepening as a primal need for release makes its way through the air.

He crawls between your thighs, nestling himself in the comfort. Pulling your underwear to the side, he lets out a small moan at the scent of you taking over him. “P-please Matt, I-” You speak, breathing getting more erratic by the minute, the desperate need to feel his mouth.

“Use your words, tell me what you need.” He says, voice trailing as he leaves kisses on your thighs, his stubble tickling your skin gently.

“Need you to make me come, please.” You’re almost begging, looking down to see his brown hair tucked tightly between your legs, and you can tell he is relishing in your reactions, he loves the way you react to him every time - the way you speak, moan, the way he can so easily make you scream. “Like this?” Matt asks, finally letting his tongue slip through his lips and toward your folds, immediately moaning at the way you taste.

A moan leaves you suddenly, grateful to feel his touch again where you so desperately need him. Kitten licks on your clit making your legs shake, his calloused hands holding them open to keep you from taking away what he needs so desperately. Matt is listening to every sound leaving your mouth, nothing else matters in this moment apart from him and you.

“Fuck, y’always taste so good.” He’s almost growling, speaking to himself as his tongue delves deeper, entering your hole and listening to the way your heart starts to race when you feel a coil turning just below your stomach, such a familiar feeling from him. Matt places two fingers at your entrance, letting you feel the way he teases you with them before they enter you, the sounds of your slick amongst your moans as you realise how full you always feel with him.

“Oh-Hmph, Matt yes!” You shout, your chest rumbling with how loud he always makes you, his fingers bending and hitting that spot inside you.

His tongue is teasing at your clit again, a mix between strong and soft licks as Matt listens to your breathing - he knows exactly how to get the biggest reactions from you, and he loves doing exactly that. “Come for me, sweetheart,” He’s speaking between sucks on your clit, “Let me hear you. Need to hear those beautiful sounds.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you feel the break, your orgasm washing over you in a wave - your ears muffling themselves as Matt feels you clench around his fingers, fighting to keep up with the way your body convulses with the force.

“You are the most beautiful person I've ever met.” He’s still complimenting you, and you can’t believe how lucky you got with someone like Matt - someone so kind, understanding - someone who is willing to teach you how to slow dance in his living room.

“You can’t see me, how do you know I'm beautiful?” You laugh, looking at him as he smiles, getting comfortable next to you and pulling you into his warm chest. “I don’t need to, it’s obvious.” He’s grinning, he knows exactly what to say all the time. 

“You still need to teach me how to dance, we didn’t get very far into the lesson.” You mention, realising that the gala isn’t that far away and you still might embarrass Matt with your two left feet.

“There’s something else I'd like to do first…” He laughs, rolling on top of you and basking in the way you laugh at his words.

tags --

@lambmurdock @parker-murdock @silas-aeiou @blushingrn @audreyclimbs @pupmurdock @millennial-birkin

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

The Dilemma of a Rubber Duck

Alastor x Reader (Queer-Platonic) ft. Bestie Lucifer

(TW: Mentions of depression, mentions of suicide attempts)

You knew Alastor didn’t like Lucifer. You weren’t 100% sure why, only that the King of Hell really got on Alastor’s nerves. Ever since Lucifer had moved into the hotel in the aftermath of the battle with the angels, Alastor had spent hours ranting and raving to you about him. They were constantly trying to one-up each other. It was comical, really.

Except that you were stuck in the middle of it. 

Unlike Alastor, you and Lucifer had hit it off right away, getting along like two peas in a pod. There was a certain camaraderie that came with being clinically depressed and still having to force a smile, which both you and Lucifer were experts at. Many late nights had been spent exchanging stories and finding humor in things other people might not otherwise find humorous. 

(“I tried to kill myself twice, and then end up getting hit by a car! That’s how I end up in Hell? What did I do all that work for?” That was the first time that story had been met with laughter, and that was when you knew Lucifer was a good guy.)

You were constantly thinking about how Alastor would react to knowing you enjoyed hanging out with Lucifer, or vice versa. It worried you to no end, so you tried to keep your friendship with Lucifer under wraps, for Alastor’s sake. He needed someone to back him up, and you wanted to be that person. You wanted Alastor to know he could trust you.

One evening, you and Lucifer were talking in the parlor, drinking tea. Alastor was out for a fancy Overlord meeting, so you were able to relax a bit. 

“I’m so glad we have Niffty around,” you were saying. “Sometimes I just can’t find the energy to do my laundry, but I know that if I leave it on the floor, she’ll take care of it right away.” You thought for a moment. “It’s not like I’m forcing her to do it. Or taking advantage of her. Right?”

“Nah, I thought cleaning was her job,” Lucifer reassured. “My loophole with that is all my outfits are the same. Also magic. Magic is very helpful.”

“Man, I’m jealous!” You gave a lighthearted groan. “I wish I could have magic like that.”

“Who’s saying you can’t?” Lucifer shrugged, sipping at his tea. 

You snorted. “Have you seen me? Do I look like Overlord material to you?”

“I didn’t think Mr. Crimson Asshole was an Overlord, so looks aren’t everything.” Lucifer hesitated. “Oh, shit, I shouldn’t have said it like that. You two are like, dating, right?”

You made a ‘fifty-fifty’ gesture with your hand. “Eh… Not really? It’s like… a mutual relationship. Neither of us are the ‘dating’ type, so we just kind of… vibe. But it’s fine, I get it. You should hear the things he says about you.”

“Oh?” Lucifer leaned forward, curious. You mimed zipping your lips, grinning playfully. “Alrighty then, keep your secrets.”

The feeling of guilt you’d been getting used to returned, but you smiled past it. If there was anything Alastor taught you, it was that you could hide everyone behind a smile. And it worked, for the most part. The only person who’d ever been able to see though it was Alastor himself. Similarly, you were the only person able to see through his ever-present smile.

Setting his cup down, Lucifer waited for a lull in the conversation. “Before I forget, I have something for you.” With a wave of his hand, a little yellow rubber duck appeared in his palm. Its features and markings made it resemble you. 

Eyes wide, you carefully took the duck from his hands like it were an actual duckling.

“This one doesn’t breathe fire or anything, but…” Lucifer paused, like he was struggling for words. “I haven't had a real friend in… a really long time. S-so I wanted to thank you. For that.”

You were at a loss for words. The only other person to get you gifts since you’d died had been Alastor. That feeling of guilt hit you like a train, but it was masked with a bright, grateful smile.

“Lucifer, I… I’m honored. Thank you.” You struggled to tear your eyes away from the duck. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of replying, Lucifer pulled you out of your chair, hugging you close. You matched it, hoping your appreciation for his existence was properly conveyed.

“Ahem.”

You and Lucifer pushed each other apart like a teenage couple caught making out. Alastor was standing in the entrance to the parlor, teeth bared. His grin was sharp, borderline violent, and his eyes were narrowed. 

“Al,” you tried, but no other words followed.

Then Alastor sighed, and the murderous look in his eyes disappeared. You were still holding the duck Lucifer had given you. Looking down, you realized you were shaking, and felt a little faint. 

You stumbled back, right into Alastor’s arms. Head spinning, you allowed him to set you down on the chair. Alastor kept a hand on your arm, watching your every movement with surgical focus. He knew, you realized. He knew how guilty you felt, how much anxiety it was causing you. How long he’d known, you had no idea, but you could feel it in the way he wouldn’t let you go. You didn’t want him to let you go. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer looked frantic, obviously worried. “Do you need water? Something to eat? Medicine? I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere, if you just give me a minute—”

“I’m fine,” you interrupted, trying to muster a smile. You failed. How Alastor held his grin all day, every day, was a mystery to you. “Well, okay, maybe not fine.”

“They could use water,” Alastor provided, only a slight edge in his voice. Nodding, Lucifer ran off to get a glass of water, leaving you and Alastor alone in the parlor. 

Alastor was silent for a moment. You could tell he was trying to figure out what to say. “I apologize for not noticing your anxiety sooner.” A little joy fluttered in your chest. Alastor enjoyed watching everyone’s suffering—everyone except for you.

“It’s not your fault,” you told him. “I should’ve been more upfront. I just…” You were still a little shaky. Alastor’s hand moved so it rested over your hand. The rubber duck was still in your other hand, and you turned it over with your fingers, fidgeting with it. “I didn’t want you to leave me.”

“Now that is nonsense if I ever heard any!” Alastor laughed. “What a ridiculous sentiment, my dear. It would take more than that to take me from you, I assure you.”

“But I know how much you hate him.” You looked towards the direction Lucifer had gone. “You hate that he’s here. You hate that he’s meddling. And this is just another reason to hate him.”

Alastor was contemplating his words again when Lucifer came back. He gently handed you the glass of water, causing you to have to put your duck down. Alastor was right to ask for it—the water helped. The air was tense as Lucifer and Alastor glared at one another while also keeping an eye on you. 

“When you are happy, I am happy,” Alastor said out of the blue. Both you and Lucifer looked to him for clarification. “If talking with Lucifer makes you happy…” Alastor swallowed, gritting his teeth, glowering deeply at Lucifer, “then, by that logic, it makes me happy.”

“Hey, same here.” Lucifer put his arms up symbolically. “I’m not gonna leave my friend just because I hate their boyfriend– er, whatever you are, that is.”

“Partner,” you and Alastor said in unison.

“Right. That.” 

The air was still tense, but it made you feel better knowing that Alastor and Lucifer wouldn’t be fighting over you, at the very least. 

“Okay,” you said suddenly, having finished your water. “I’m going to bed. Thanks again for the duck, Lucifer.”

You barely heard Alastor growl at Lucifer upon realizing that he’d given you a gift, but it just caused you to smile fondly. Alastor was quick to step in beside you, taking your arm to escort you up to your room. 

“You’re welcome!” Lucifer called back. “But don’t think that just because you and Alastor are partners that I’ll make one for him too!” You had to stifle a laugh. Lucifer was too sweet for his own good, no matter how awkward it made him seem.

You turned so Lucifer could see your grin. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

[sightoru]

i'm not ready to let go of you. “ + Izuku? Please and thank you

Deku + I'm not ready to let you go

[Anon, you didn't pick a body part tho tbh not a big deal. I chose eyes for you.

Poem is "Sorrow is Not My Name by Ross Gay"

tw: angst but the ending is hopeful. happy endings only here.]  —��————————————————————————

Green is your favorite color. 

It's the color of the grass after the snow melts, it's the color of your bedspread and kitchen cabinets. It's the color of the avocado you smash on every sandwich you eat, and the color of the caterpillars that hang out in your garden. 

Green is also the color of Izuku's impossibly wide eyes, and they're currently pleading with you to stay. 

"I'm sorry I forgot about dinner," he whines, and you hate the tugging in your chest you feel at the pitch of his voice. "There was a villain and my students were there and I just had to make sure they were all safe. I'm so sorry I know we've had this planned for a while now."  You made reservations months in advance. The new restaurant was something you looked forward to trying, something fancy and high end. You, a fellow teacher, saved up for months just to be able to go, knowing that both your teacher salaries don't often allow for luxuries like dinners at nice restaurants. 

You look away from him, folding your legs to your chest, "I just…." you pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. "I was really looking forward to it." You don't want to say anymore. You don't trust yourself enough to keep the shake out of your voice. 

There's something about the quiet way you say it that makes Izuku's chest feel like black whip is wrapped around him; takes the air out of his lungs. He remembers your first date, years ago, when he decided to become a teacher and you were endlessly supportive of that — despite being a stranger. 

He remembers when you moved your stuff in, shades of green and white and brown took over the apartment. Pictures were hung on the wall (memories made, places seen, inside jokes created), green onions rest in a mason jar full of water near the sink (you refuse to let anything go to waste). You shoes are next to his, comparably untidy. The wood of your furniture is everywhere (the TV stand you found on the side of the road, the coffee table bought off Facebook marketplace. the bookshelf you got from a friend moving cross country. You're all over his life now, painting his world in shades of green.)

He remembers a poem he read long ago that reminds him of that moment. You quoted it to him once, "My colors green," you said. "I'm spring." He remembers all the things he loves about you: how easily you pull him off the brink, how you snort when you laugh. The way your lips purse when you're in thought. How your head naturally cocks slightly to the left. 

"Honey," he says, and the words stick the same way in his mouth, "I'm not ready to let you go. I'm sorry, I'll set boundaries with myself. I'll try to be better. For you."

For you, for you, for you, the words echo in your head and make you feel like you're swimming. It reminds you of the movie you both like, the main character telling his love interest, as you wish. For months after the first time you both watched it, the words were uttered constantly, 

"How am I supposed to feel," You ask, "when the task seems impossible? I feel awful I even have to say anything. We're both teachers. We both know how important raising the future is. I'm just…" words escape you for a moment. You glance up at him, take in the scar on his handsome face, "I'm just not as sure about this anymore."  He doesn't have to ask you what this is. He already knows, and the metaphorical black whip tightens around his chest. "I can quit," he offers. But you both know he's lying. 

He would never, and that's okay with you. You don't want him to feel like he has to choose between his passion and you. You just don't want to be forgotten. Something about it stirs up grimy childhood feelings — abandonment from your parents. Abandonment from your friends. 

("That sounds lonely," he told you once, after you shared childhood memories with him. "You…" he pauses, tastes the words in his mouth. "You don't have to be lonely again." 

You believed him, foolishly enough. To be fair, he kept his promise, until this past year.)

It makes you feel green. Green, like the olive branch he's trying to extend. You look over at him, trying to focus and keep the blur out of your eyes. "Don't do that," you say. "Just don't make plans with me you can't keep."

"I won't," he tells you eagerly, bundling you up in his arms."never again." he mutters into your hair. You pull away slightly, angle your face to his and take in the green of his eyes; the soft texture of his hair and the smattering of freckles across his tanned face. 

And what are you supposed to do when he holds you like that? When he sounds like that? His hands are so warm and tangled in your hair and his fingers are pressed into your back and all you can think about is how over and over and over again you'd devote yourself to him. It does not matter if he hurts you, it does not matter if you hurt him. The only choice you have is to believe him. 

So you do. 

[hardysbitch]

Hi lovely! Can I request the smut prompt 1,"I love it when you moan my name" with Ross Lynch?

wrote it again cuz it was so delicious to just let it die in my memory 😋 (thanks for the reassurement love! hope you like it)

Prompt #1: "I love it when you moan my name" - R.L

tw: smutty smut and nothing worse than that, kept it pretty simple actually (after i proofreaded i say this is not even a smut sorry😭)

"That's a nice dress" Ross said. He entered the room we shared and stood in silence for a minute before that.

"I know, I think is what I'm gonna wear tonigh for dinner. Rydel said to look nice, right?" I said, looking at myself in the dress from different angles once again.

Both of us were in a trip with his siblings to Greece and his sister couldn't waste the opportunity to dress up and go to a fancy restaurant evertime she could, it was like she had tons of energy even while pregnant.

"Yeah, she did. But I don't you are going to be able to wear it." He said getting closer.

"What? Why not-" That was were i felt it.

Ross hugged me from behind by the waist, tighly. Making me feel his erection right in my butt. "Oh." I said, and he repeated it.

"Should I take it off then?" Looking at his eyes trough the mirror I could see the way they darkened, and he, again, pressed himself against me.

He started taking down the zipper in the back of the dress and kissing the skin as it went uncovered, making me feel a hot puddle in between the legs.

I turned around just to see him grinning at me with that cheeky smile of his, putting my hand on his throat and pressing lightly. He turned me around again just to push me by my hips until my knees hit the bed and i fell into it.

Ross quickly crawled over me and took his shirt of, allowing me to see all the view of his torso to the happy trail he was letting grow that disappeared in his pants. With one hand he took the sleeves of my dress one at the time and my bra came to view. I helped him by rolling the rest of the dress off my body and unzipping his pants, so he could take them off, when he suddenly stopped me with a kiss.

It was heated, a battle between our tongues that none of us was trying to stop. My hands went from his blond locks to his shoulders, making the same trail I always did. He started reaching places of my body with one hand, up my chest to the waistband of my panties.

"Ross-" I moaned when he finally got his hand inside my underwear, letting go of his mouth for a second.

"I love it when you moan my name" He said and got two fingers inside of me.

"Oh my- Oh" He set a steady rhytm with his fingers while we kept kissing. My hands placed strongly in his hair, pulling when he changed the pace for a better one.

I got one of my hands inside the boxer he was wearing, palming him and then starting to rub his cock.

"Keep going like that" He said, grunting when i squeezed him a little.

"Go get a condom" I whispered. And when he got up to go search in a drawer someone knocked up the door.

"Ross! You have a spare one by chance?" Rocky said in the other side of the door.

I bursted up laughing and an annoyed Ross made his way to the door.

[clocainiac]

For the pride event thing, Transfem rusty please?

Maybe about her coming out to the yard/other characters

PRIDE ONESHOTS PT.3

(I love the way i’m doing part 3 on the 13th :3 as you can see i’m a procrastinator and i apologise so much so have this as a sorry 🙏 ALSO rusty starts off with they/them pronouns before they start to get more comfortable with their transition and use she/her! there may be a bit of prusty… also also peep the way ive managed to add electra in again, so sorry but i must for if i don’t they will tie me on the tracks)

(Not only that, but i’m not trans so trying to figure out how to word this took alot of consulting with my trans mates, so if some of this sounds a bit awkward during the read I apologise profusely as obviously I have never been in this position myself, but I hope i’ve tried my best as i’ve only gone off what my mates have told me!)

Poppa was the first.

They were both sat in Poppa’s shed, the comforting heat from their boilers encompassing the room. Still Rusty felt a creeping sense of unease, a twisting terrible feeling in their stomach.

“You alright, Son?” Poppa’s deep voice questioned, almost sounding like a hymn.

It was an innocent question from an outsiders perspective, but to Rusty? It felt like sick jab. The nickname itself prodded at something they tried to keep hidden, a feeling they knew wouldn’t go away. Although they tried to forget about it, you can’t slap a plaster on a gaping wound and expect it to heal. There was always this feeling of being wrong, looking wrong, sounding wrong; everything about Rusty was just wrong.

Soon they realised Poppa was still looking at them for an answer, now he had more of a concerned look on his face.

“I need to tell you something,” Rusty blurted out.

Poppa hummed, “Go on then.”

“I’ve been… thinking about myself. A lot. For a long time really, even before the race.” Rusty took a shaky breath, wetting their lips, “I think I always knew. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Poppa listened intently, letting Rusty take their time. Although he was set in his traditional ways, he was a very good listener and advisor.

“I’m not going to be the Engine you’ve always seen,” their voice trembled. “I’m going to transition, to live as who I want to be. Poppa, i’m a woman.”

The silence that followed stretched.

But then Poppa bumped their shoulder, “Soon you may not look like the same Engine i’ve always seen, but you will be the same Engine i’ve always known.”

Rusty couldn’t help the tears that started to build. After all, Poppa was like a father to them and to have not only validation but acceptance from him? Rusty couldn’t even describe the feeling.

“I’ve already got a lot to thank the Starlight for and helping you realise who you truly want to be will be amongst them.”

“Oh, Poppa,” Rusty whimpered sniffling.

They hugged for a long time that day.

It was harder with Pearl.

Not because Pearl wasn’t kind; she was the best. But because Rusty loved her.

She’d practiced saying it a hundred times. Out loud. To herself. She had even started referring to herself as She/Her in her head!

But now, sat beside Pearl, who was bathed in the moonlight. All previous bravado had disappeared.

“Pearl, can I tell you something?”

“Sure!” She chirped back, always merry even at the most mundane questions or actions.

“I’m not going to be the Rusty you see for much longer…”

Pearl’s head tilted to the side, “How? Not to sound impolite but once you’re corroded there isn’t really a way to go back.”

Rusty laughed awkwardly, praying for the butterflies to go away. “Let me explain it better, i’m still going to have rust physically but not i’m not going to look like the Rusty you’ve always seen.”

Pearl waited, her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Pearl, i’m a woman and i’m going to start transitioning.”

Just akin to Poppa’s reaction there was silence. This time however, Rusty felt the need to fill it.

“I know i’m not fancy or sleek or modern; but when I look in the mirror, I feel so trapped under all these layers not from the rust but from looking so masculine. Pearl you may think this is out of the blue after all i’m quite old now but I have always felt this way, I just didn’t figure out what it was until recently and being a Steamer has been bad enough let alone wanting to transition too-”

Rusty stopped rambling as Pearl put her hand on her trembling fist.

“Pearl, i’m scared. That no one will believe I feel this way, that they’ll laugh, that i’ll be shunned for this.”

Pearl didn’t answer right away. Her eyes flicked down, pink lips parted, the gears in her mind turning.

Rusty braced for rejection. Even though Pearl was kind, she was naive and this was vulnerable news.

When Pearl finally spoke, her voice cracked. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Rusty blinked, “I… What?”

“You were hurting this whole time and I didn’t know, that… I never want you to feel like that.”

Rusty’s throat tightened, “I didn’t even know why I was hurting so much myself until recently.”

Pearl turned to her and placed her own polished hands against Rusty’s calloused ones. “You’re still you. You’re still the brave Engine who stood up to Greaseball, who sang to the Starlight when no one else believed in…”

Pearl paused, “Her.” Rusty finished the sentence for her softly, just a gentle push in the right direction.

“Her,” Pearl repeated, “I quite like that.”

“Me too.” Rusty sniffled, “I thought you’d leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Rusty and i’m going to keep loving you.”

“Even her?”

“Especially her.” Pearl said softly before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

When Rusty pulled away she realised they were both crying. It was pretty fitting.

The next person who Rusty told was not who she had in mind.

The race was over. She came second, Electra was first. Rusty huffed sitting on a small grass patch as Electra skated around showboating.

“You sulking, Steam Train?” They teased skating over; surprisingly without their components.

“No, well done.”

Electra’s lips pursed together, “I don’t believe you.”

“What?” Rusty questioned baffled.

“You’re sulking but…it’s not about the races, is it?” They questioned.

Rusty spluttered trying to find an excuse before Electra chuckled triumphantly.

“I’m correct aren’t I? Well now you have to tell me, it’s the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The ‘I know you have a secret’ rules, now tell me!”

Rusty bit her bottom lip, “You ever feel like your whole body is screaming at you that it’s wrong? Like you were built backwards?”

That caught Electra and their brows furrowed, not in judgement but in thought.

“Electra, i’m transitioning. You can tell people, it won’t be a secret for much longer.”

“I understand,” Electra said softly.

Rusty stared.

“I’m fluid,” they said. “Gender is… too static for someone like me. I shift and i’m proud of who I am. But I found it hard to start telling people too.”

“I am proud of who I am, just scared of the reactions.”

“Don’t be. You’re becoming you. That’s one of the bravest things someone can do.”

This time the silence was comforting, no shock, no rambling, just a mutual understanding.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

Blurbs you say?? I am thinking thoughts… about matty’s dick in my mouth while he smokes a cigarette <3

This #unedited and sort of shit, but i promised myself to not to obsess over it too much. also i cant not post without a fancy title and banner bc im allergic soz xx

Go down - Matty Healy

A/N: im shit at blurbs, minors do not interact

wc: 1.5k

-

The door shuts with a loud bang, Mattys footsteps echoing through the foyer. Ridding himself of his jacket, chucking it onto the couch, he sits down next to it, an exasperated groan leaving his lips. His voice was sore, raspy from tonight's gig. Sold out, ten thousand people, all screaming the house down as Matty sang his heart out. Fans went wild as he unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, leaving all but one buttoned unfastened.

It still was, the fabric now wrinkled and slightly damp from the sweat, clinging to his body. It took everything in you to not jump onto him right at that moment, take him then and there. No, he was tired, eyes shutting as he rolled his head back, resting it onto the edge of the sofa. His voice was low as he spoke. 

“Darling?” you hum in acknowledgement, peeking your head around the corner, still trying to tow your shoes off. He waits for you to actually enter the room, a rough hand running through his gelled hair, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

“Could you pour me some wine?” Despite having been drinking the entire set, Matty always liked a healthy glass of wine when he got home, exhausted and missing your presence. Usually, you would take the time to talk about the show, what the stagehands had fucked up this time et cetera, et cetera. This time, however, you had other things on your mind, and, based on the way his eyes dragged up and down your body as you walked by, he did as well. 

You grab two glasses from the marble cupboard, setting them onto the counter. Pouring both of you a generous amount, you check yourself in the reflection of the microwave. Your hair was a bit messy, and your mascara was slightly smudged from dancing, but it didn't bother you.

“Thank you, love.” a grateful look spreads onto his face as he takes a glass from you, smiling. You place a chaste kiss on his lips, wiping a bit of dirt off his face with your free hand. Before you could even move to sit down, his hand wraps around your lower back, pulling you into an awkward kneeling position between his legs, the edge of the sofa digging into your knees. He kisses you like this, setting both your glasses onto a small table, freeing up both hands.

You shift, using his shoulders for leverage, lowering your body onto the floor in front of him. 

“What are you up to, mh?” he asks, his filthy smirk making your head spin. 

“Could ask you the same thing, undressing in front of an audience.” you mention his little display, thrusting up into air as he danced around, the screams of the crowd only spurring him on. He pretends to look offended, shaking his head in protest.

“It's art.” 

“It's insanely hot, is what it is.” you grin, hands settling right onto his belt. 

His breath hitches, breathing pattern slightly irregular as you look up at him through your eyelashes, blinking innocently. 

A quiet “Oh, fuck me.” leaves his lips, and he coughs, trying to remain composed. That proves more difficult than he thought, especially with you looking at him like that.

“Can I?” you ask, voice dripping like honey. The look on his face when you let things drag on like this was delicious, eyes drooping shut as he groaned your name. 

“Shoot me if i ever say no to that question, fucking hell.” That's all you need, your hands making quick work of the black leather belt in front of you, the sound of metal against metal so unbelievably erotic. 

Above you, you hear Matty shuffle, hands digging into the pockets of his suit jacket. Producing a pack of cigarettes, he sticks one between his lips, light not far behind. Something stirs in you when he lights it, the soft glow of the flame making him look even more attractive than he already was.  

He’s hard against the palm of your hand as you work the buttons of his trousers, pulling them down along with his black boxer-briefs. The cool air makes him groan, a cloud of smoke leaving his parted lips. The smell doesn't take long to fill your senses, so distinctly Matty. 

Not in the mood for a tease, his hand finds the thick locks of your hair, threading his fingers through it. Taking another drag of his cigarette, he watches you suck the tip of his cock into your mouth, moaning when the taste of him hit your tongue. 

He gathers your hair up into a makeshift ponytail, keeping it out of your face as you take him in, hollowing out your cheeks in that way that makes him lose his mind. 

His hand pushes your head down lightly, silently asking for permission. You let him, his cock brushing against the back of your throat, making your gag reflex kick in. Using a trick your friend had taught you back in highschool, you press your thumb between the rest of your fingers, trying to suppress it. 

Matty is shameless above you, moaning and groaning whenever you bobbed your head, incredibly pent up and desperate. 

Trying again, you let him guide himself deeper into your mouth, his sounds of encouragement spurring you on. 

“So fucking good, just- yeahh, thats it, fuck” his words go straight to your core, and you clench your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the aching pressure between your legs. 

Bobbing your head, you breathe through your nose, taking him as deep as you can without gagging, feeling him twitch in your mouth. His tip leaks salty precum onto your tongue, the smells of cigarettes the only thing you could concentrate on. You look up, your eyes meeting his right as he takes a drag, pushing your head down even further. Again, you sputter, but you don't get off.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, choking on my cock like this.” he groans, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy.

“Made for me, weren't you? Perfect mouth, shit.” his rambling lets you know he’s close, hips bucking up into your mouth, your tongue running over the vein on the underside of his cock, pulsing with need. 

Taking one last drag, he lets the finished cigarette fall onto the concrete floor behind the sofa, both hands now on your head, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. 

You moan around him, the vibrations sending curses falling from his lips, the sounds of his movements echoing through the living room. 

“I’m not gonna last, fucking- oh god.” he warns you, quickly pulling off him. Shaking your head, you raise your eyebrows at him and a small smile spreads onto your face. 

“When has that ever been an issue?” he laughs, brushing your hair out of your face sweetly. You rub your cheeks against his thigh, eyes set on his weeping erection, desperate for release. 

“Now, let me take care of you, okay?” he nods slowly, both his arms spread out on either side of him, letting you have full control. You dive back in, switching from kitten licking the tip to deepthroating him as far as you can go, his gasps of pleasure like music to your ears.

“Jesus, you‘re a fucking wet dream.” he moans, hips bucking uncontrollably as he spills onto your mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His legs shake as you hold your head there, taking everything he gives you, the salty taste of him like heaven.

You stick out your tongue proudly, showing it completely clean. His hands grab your shoulders as fast as they can move, pulling you up and onto his lap. He kisses you, hard, tongue forcing its way into your mouth before you could even react. Groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, his fingers wipe at your cheeks, rubbing off your mascara, which had started to stream down your face. 

“You're a temptress, you are.” he grins, kissing you again, softer this time. Rolling your eyes, you use your nails to scratch the back of his head, knowing how much he loved the sensation.  

“You didn't even try to resist.” you spit back, giggling at the speed at which he’d pulled you onto him, not even bothering to take his shoes off before plopping onto the sofa. 

“I didn't, did I?” 

[dollscircus]

Swing first, ask later. Chapter 2

(In my defence , I was trying to help a dog)

Chapter 1

Arkham Knight Jason Todd x vet!Reader

Words: 2.6k

Tags: Violence. Violence against reader. but they're fiiiiine.

Synopsis: You have little impulse control so when you slip through a fence to chase a stray dog, you get a lot more then you bargained for.

-

Maybe I should’ve thought more about those nights’ events going through the next few weeks but I kinda- pushed it to the back of my mind. Listen- being a vet can be stressful when half of the patients want to bite me in the face and sometimes even their bitchy owners want to do the same. It’s a struggle so yeah, I kinda forgot about it. Forgot isn’t the right word- pushed back? Sure. That works.

But back on topic, I was walking down the street during a usual rainy night in Gotham. I had gotten a call from a local that they had stopped a large stray dog wondering around near an old warehouse. They didn’t tell me much, but apparently the dog had been limping so I wanted to get there as soon as possible. The warehouse was old, so I didn’t pay it much mind which searching around for the dog.

Eventually I noticed a little white head poking from behind a dumpster, his fur was messy and dirty. He watched me curiously, I paused for a moment while looking at the dog.

“Oh hey handsome.” I smiled, kneeling down where I stood while pulling a small tub of wet dog food out of my bag. “I’ve got some food for you.”

I popped open the tub and set it on the ground slowly pushing it forward, the dog ever so slowly crept out from behind the dumpster. I couldn’t tell what breed the dog was, clearly a mix of many breeds. He sniffed the air while creeping closer, he was limping on his back left leg. I stayed as still as I could as the dog creeped closer, looking at me with big fearful sad eyes.

“It’s ok buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.” I said softly to him as he reached the tub, sniffing at the food for a few moments before he started to eat very quickly. I chuckled softly while watching him eat, a part of me wanted to reach out and pet him but decided against it.

I smiled softly while watching the dog, but a sudden sound caused both the dog and I to jump. The sound was probably as cat running around in the darkness. The dog scattered away from me with a little yelp, I cursed while watching the dog slip under a gap in the fence that surrounded the warehouse. This gave me a quick but decent look at his back leg. There was a wire tightly wrapped around his leg. The skin looked raw and infected.

“Fuck.” I cursed while gathering up the food tub and shoving it back into my bag. Logically, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that crawling through a fence to a sketchy warehouse is a really terrible idea. Stupid. Reckless but hey, I grew up on the streets of Gotham. I’ve been in worst places.

The torn fence scratched at me a little while I crawled under the fence on my hands and knees, my hips got caught for a moment before I used all of my weight to pull myself forward. I huffed while standing up to look at my dirty hands, grumbling under my breath while wiping my hands on my pants.

Scanning around, I tried to spot the dog luckily I spotted the pup pretty quickly and he was standing by another dumpster watching me.

“Hey puppy.” I smiled while slowly walking over to the dog who was watching me with big curious eyes, I knelt down and offered my hand out with some dog treats. He sniffed my hand, clearly thinking for a moment before he started to eat. I chuckled softly when seeing his tail start to wag.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff. That’s our fancy treats.” I smiled while my other hand reached for the slip on leash I carried in my bag, I made sure to move very slowly while slipping it over his head. He didn’t seem to mind, licking my hand as his tail wagging weakly.

“See? I’m not so scary.” I chuckled softly before another sound startled me, one of the metal doors of the warehouse slamming open. Oh fuck. I snapped my head to look over my shoulder, only to come face to face with a heavily armoured guy, he had a cigarette between his teeth about to light it before he slowly turned his head over to me. I tensed up.

God fucking dammit. The one time my body picked freeze. Thanks.

The next few moments were filled with cursing, barking and snarling. It was mostly all a blur, I think- I bit him? I tasted blood between my teeth, and felt blood dripping down my head when he slammed my head into the dumpster then the scream he let out when the dog sunk his teeth into his arm and wrenched it side to side ripping flesh.

The next clear memory I had was scrambling up to my feet, the leash still in hand (woah 10 outta 10 priorities there) and trying to run away with the dogs whose muzzle was still dripping with blood. My head was spinning with pain as I tried to run away but a sudden white hot pain shot through my calf sending my tumbling to the ground. I looked back at my leg, it seeped with blood. Looking further back I saw the man I just struggled with still holding the gun he shot my leg with.

He shot me. He fucked shot me!? Oh- that mother fucker-

I let go of the leash so the dog wasn’t tied to me and the dog ran away whimpering. I winced in pain while looking at my leg then flickering my eye up to the man while he spoke into a radio attached to his chest. Soon he stood over me, the swirling head pain stopped me from making out what he was really saying. I could see the blood splatter across his face- ooo I bit off some of his ear.

He said something but my head was killing me. All sounds seemed so distant and my head felt heavy. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Please. I begged myself while looking up at the figure. Fear and anger swirled in my chest while I tried to keep myself awake but I was quickly fading.

As everything seemed so distant and painful, another figure was approaching quickly. It was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t make out much. My vision was hazy when the figure swung for the first man, fist slamming into his temple.

Huh. That reminded me of someone?

—

I don’t know what I expected to wake up to when I passed out, I remembered the sound of bones cracking from the figure striking the man who attacked me. I woke up to warmth, warmth surrounding me as I woke up. My body was sore, aching with a dull pain while my heavy eyes tried to open. I didn’t know where I was, blinking in the dull light while I started to sit up in the cot bed I was laying in. I blinked a few times when seeing the dog, I was trying to catch curled up at the bottom of the bed. Back leg wrapped in a bandage.

Confusion clouded a lot of my judgment while looking around, welded metal walls. A desk in the corner of the room covered in papers. I couldn’t make out what else was written on the papers from this distance. I tried to move when pain shot through my leg, I hissed in pain before looking down at my bandaged leg. Where was I?

I glanced over the room again but jumped when seeing him on a chair in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed over his check. The Arkham Knight. I stared at him, thinking back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. The figure. It was him and that punch. He swung with his whole body. I remembered Jason swinging his punches like that.

“You shouldn’t try to move to much yet.” He said after a moment of staring at each other. That almost made me laugh. I frowned a little at him.

“You patched me up.” I said, looking down at the bandage. The criss cross pattern caught my attention. Huh. Memories from my childhood flashed through my mind. Kneeling behind a dumpster while Jason wrapped up my arm after a stray cat I was trapping clawed up my arm painfully.

“I’m not as skilled with my hands as you.” He said, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Why?” I asked, eyes flicking down when the dog raised his head and yawned. Wagging his tail at me. The knight tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Repaying the favour.” He said, like it was a very simple fact but I didn’t believe that completely. I moved to swing my legs off the bed, he tensed a little at my movement but I barely noticed it.

“There’s gotta be more to it. You could’ve just dumped me as the hospital or something.” I said, looking down to the dog who started to shuffle down the bed to sniff at my arm. I smiled softly at the dog while reaching down to pet the top of his head. The knight huffed, the sound coming out distorted by the helmet.

“That would be rude to the person you didn’t call the cops of me, when they really should’ve.” He said, voice a mix with amusement and irritation. I suddenly remembered comparing him to a stray dog, embarrassment crept up my neck.

“Then what about the dog? You didn’t owe him anything.” I raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t respond staring at me, I couldn’t read him behind the helmet. Another question lingered in the back of my mind that I pushed away.

“What happened to the guy that shot me?” I asked another question furrowing my brow a little, he didn’t respond at first. I thought he wouldn't answer me at all until he did so.

“He’s dead.” He said, a few moments passed between us. “Does that scare you?”

I thought for a moment, did it? Maybe it was a little morbid. The guy shot me but I didn’t like someone dying.

“Scare me? No, I don’t- like it.” I said, fingers brushing through the fur of the dog. “If you were going to hurt me, you’d have done it already.”

He seemed to bristle a little, adjusting his position on the uncomfortable chair he was perched on. I looked back on my leg before I started to try and pull myself up. “I appreciate the help but I need to go-”

Pain seared through my leg as I started to fall forward, losing balance due to the sudden shock of pain. I cursed feeling myself about to fall but I felt arms bracing against my shoulders. I flicked my eyes up to the knight as he was suddenly leaning over my body as his hands kept me steady.

He said my name, “You can't be moving around on that leg yet.” He warned. I didn't realise how much bigger than me, he was until he was leaning over me and looking down at me. I can't pin point why the way he said my name really clued me in. I can’t describe it. It had a softness to it that Jason even as rough as he could be sometimes always said my name with.

“Well, I’ve never really been the careful type. You remember that, don’t you?” I said, looking up at his helmet. I could see his whole body tense a little. A long moment of silence stretched on. He knew what I was implying.

I know who you are.

“You’re right, you weren’t ever the careful type.” Jason said, his body language tense. Like a spring about to snap. A small smile crossed my face, tilting my head to the side. A few feelings rushed through me. How the hell did Jason become- this? I mean- the whole get up is kinda hot. Woah woah. Let’s not go that direction.

Didn’t know masks did something for me. Let’s not unpack that.

“Jason.” I said, voice slightly hushed while he set me back in the cot. Winced slightly at my leg. He leaned back, not moving away from the cot and just standing over me. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has been. Not how I thought this would go.” He said, taking a little step back after a moment. Jason tilted his head to the side a little, he still seemed tense.

“You thought about this?” I asked, a little smile crossing my face. Jason huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. I could exactly what expression he was making in that moment, the memory of a slightly more baby faced Jason making that exact sound.

“Don’t get all cheeky with me.” Jason scoffed, but he had zero heat behind it. “Even now you’re a trouble maker.”

I huffed, reaching over pet the dog beside me. “That guy attacked me first, I was happy to just walk away.”

He huffed behind that helmet, body language tightening. He turned his face away while he foot tapped the ground in irritation, “You know better to creep around warehouses like that.”

He was right, I sighed while rolling my shoulder uncomfortably. “I know, I was just worried about the dog.”

“You should worry about yourself more.” Jason said. I shrugged while rubbing my arm and scratching at my jaw. I flicked my eyes down to the dog who was now resting his muzzle on my thigh, I looked over the bandages around his back leg.

“Says the man who bandaged up the dog.” I raised a brow at him.

“You’d have been angry if I let the dog run away before anyone could help him.” He huffed, irritation in his voice but it didn't have much real anger behind it.

I let out a very light amused chuckle, looking up at the helment and trying to imagine what his face could look like now. “What happened?” I asked before I could stop myself, wincing at little at my own words. Jason turned his head back to me, even with the helmet I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Nothing you should be involved with.” He said, that lightness in his voice replaced by some coldness that wounded my heart. I frowned, a look I knew made me look all sad and pathetic. But I knew it would always work on Jason.

“Don’t give me that look.” He said after a moment, I let out a indugnet sound while flicking my eyes away. Jason let out a little sigh before he started to talk again, “Rest your leg, I’ll take you home later?”

I looked up at him as he started to turn on his heal to walk away, I blinked a few times before I hoped my mouth to speak but the words died in my throat. It had been so long since we saw each other, god knows has driven Jason to that point. Nothing good. I watched him leave the little room I was in.

I sighed while sitting in the quiet for a few moments, the dog whined a little to get my attention. Looking down at the scruffy dog, I smiled weakly. “Yeah. He’s always been like that.”

I laid back on the cot. God my body fucking hurt.

[zozowrites]

The Game (Fancy Pants part 2)

Paige Bueckers x actress!fem!oc Ava Radmall

Words: 4.5k

TW: religious services (church)

A/N: so I originally meant for this to be a little filler chapter buttttt ended up putting two together and adding my version of plot (there won't be too too much in this series, I'm doing my best tho).

Ava

It’s raining when I go to pick up my mom from the airport. I get out of my spunky little blue car to hug her hello and put her bag in the trunk. Then we stop at Whole Foods for the list of foods she needs to buy (which I tried to buy ahead of time but she insisted we go together, apparently it doesn’t “feel the same if she doesn’t look at it first”). 

In the parking lot I ask her to stop and turn around and catch her in such an aesthetic picture where she’s holding a bag under each arm bundled in her bright red raincoat with a slight rainbow in the background. I post it to my Instagram story and caption it “Mama and me <3” 

We get back to my place and start to put the food away when I get a text from an unknown number. 

I can’t help but smile slightly at the fact she’s texting me. 

Hey ava it's paige

cam gave me ur number hope it's cool

Hi Paige

It's cool dw

ok phew

how long is ur mom in town?

Until Jan 3, why?

does she like the lakers?

Are you wanting to take my mom on a date to a lakers game?

no no chill

she's pretty tho

Thanks??

lemme try again

does ur mom like the warriors AND CAM

I guess, why

do you have nye plans

Probably not, why

ok im getting cam lakers tickets for us for her bday

if you guys wanna join

Well you could've just said that, silly

well it was more fun this way, silly

At that I put my phone face down on the island to find my mom staring at me from across the counter, eyebrows raised. 

“Who ya texting?” She asks, always one for hot goss. Or prying questions. 

“Just a friend.” I answer, but I know I’m not controlling the upturn of my lips of blush of my cheeks very well. Yes I’m an actor but this is my mom, the woman who single-handedly raised me. 

“Okaaaaaay,” She extends the word and turns back to re-organizing the contents of my fridge, probably knowing that this is the move that never fails.

“I met Paige Bueckers at Cam’s Christmas party and she just asked if we want to go to a Laker's game for Cam’s birthday with them on New Year’s Eve.” I spill the beans. After being met with her silence, I add, “I think we’re gonna be friends!”

“And what did you say?” My mom asks, not turning away from the egg shelf she was inspecting. 

I slip into one of the stools at the hightop counter, swinging my feet in the air. “I said I’d get back to her. Do you want to go?” 

“I love CamCam, of course I’ll go. If she’ll be alright with me there, of course.” 

“Oh don’t even pretend, we both know she likes you more than me.” 

She sets down the butter that she’d moved on to and comes to stand behind me, running her hands up and down the sides of my arms. 

“I’m sorry sweetie,”

“No you’re not.”

“Yeah, no I’m not.” She says and laughs. 

My doorbell rings at 6:30 pm on Christmas Eve and I open it to find Ellie, my neighbor, just as expected. The twelve year old smiles at me as I let her in and wave to her mom, driving off to her shift at the hospital. 

We do our secret handshake (three fish slaps back and forth before a faked out high five) and she asks if my mom is here yet. When I tell her yes, she drops her backpack at my feet and bounds up the stairs from my entryway to the open-concept living space. 

“Sarah!!” I hear her shout before I can hear the impact of her jumping into my mom’s arms. I sigh to myself with a smile and bring the backpack up the stairs to place in her guest bedroom. 

I met Ellie and her mom Jules when I first moved in two years ago and got really close with them. Ellie walked my dog Frankie on my long set days and I watched Ellie during the summer on my off days and she slept at my house when her mom was working night shift. Like on Christmas Eve. Only last year when my mom visited for Christmas did we discover that we actually share the same runaway dad. It was an interesting Christmas morning to say the least. 

“Are we ready to commence the second annual Great Christmas Competition?” My mom asks, putting on her low rumbly announcer voice. Ellie squeals, already set up at my dining room table. 

We pull out hot glue guns and our bags of candy and graham crackers and start building our gingerbread houses. My mom finishes way before our half hour timer is up, so she takes a spoon to the pink icing tub, dying her mouth a brighter color. Then we move onto cookie decorations, where she’s more interested in eating the cookies than decorating them. Through both heats, Ellie is so focused she doesn’t say a word. And she wins, of course. We wouldn’t just let her win, but she’s a creative genius. Even if she wasn’t a kid she would still be winning. 

Then we move on to reindeer races (I win), Christmas karaoke (my mom wins), and snowman making (Ellie wins). Since she wins the tournament, she gets to pick the movie to cap off the night, and we settle on the couch to watch Elf. 

Around halfway through I pull my phone out to text Paige. 

What's your Venmo and how much for the tickets?

Her response is immediate. For some reason, that makes me smile.

don't even think about venmoing me bc i'll just send it right back

Don't make me go ask Cam

don't do that either I'm deadass

20 bucks says I can guess it right on the first try and if not you'll tell me

I don't think you understand how bets work

They way I see it it's a win win

uh yeah for u

What, you don't want me to win?

not if it means I lose, no

Don't make me write you a check

I'm not gonna honor that with a response

I put my phone away and try to refocus on the movie when Ellie leans on my shoulder, her soft brown hair falling into my lap. 

Christmas morning comes and goes. I spend it with my mom and Ellie, and Jules brings over Ellie’s presents from Santa when she gets back from her shift. She sleeps on the couch as my mom and I make breakfast, or she sleeps as much as she can before Ellie comes running in. 

Later in the day my mom finds a church service for us to attend, because apparently my five o’clock Episcopalian service wasn’t good enough for her. The church is small and charming, the service taking place in a gym of an old school that was turned into a community center. The congregation is very friendly and I spend half the time making faces at the baby in front of me. 

The next Sunday we return to the church for a regular service, and to my surprise, I spot a certain blonde in a middle row. I walk my mom towards her, and she turns and seems to have a similar look of surprise on her face. 

“These seats taken?” I ask. She shakes her head with a smile. 

“All yours.”

I introduce her to my mom and she shakes her hand, very formal. TikTok isn’t wrong, she definitely has good rizz. During the community time she’s asking us about our holiday and how my mom is liking LA right now. She brings up the Lakers game. 

“I’m assuming you know Cam since she roomed with Ava in college, right?” Paige asks. 

“Oh, do I know Cam. I adore Cam. She used to come on vacation with us sometimes.” 

“We always joke that Cam likes my mom more than she likes me.” I say and pretend to pout. Then the community time ends, and we move on to the sermon. 

After the service ends we help stack up the chairs and push them to the side. 

“This is only our second time here, do you know any good brunch spots around?” I ask Paige as we descend the stairs to the exit. She tells us about a bookstore cafe around the corner, and my mom insists she join us. 

Fifteen minutes later, we settle into our seats and the navy blue bookshelves behind Paige perfectly compliment her slick back blonde bun. I’m sitting across from her at the table, and I let my eyes travel down from the bun to the slope of her purple cardigan over her shoulders, crisp white t-shirt underneath a great contrast. On our walk here I had to really focus on keeping my eyes away from the way her legs looked so juicy in her simple black pants. 

I finally rip my gaze away from her to look at the menu. Then I look to my mom, who was watching Paige through her menu. I resist the urge to look back at Paige, because I can already feel her eyes on me. It makes heat rise throughout my body, and I untuck the hair from behind my ears to shield my neck, which I can feel is probably blushing.

Thankfully the waiter arrives, and we order our food. Then we resume being normal human beings, and partake in normal conversation. How Paige is doing on the team. The press tour I’m about to start and the next round of auditions. What my mom does as an elementary school art teacher. We discuss Cam a good bit, and her impending nuptials. 

When our food arrives we play roulette, where we rotate the dishes through the three of us at random. Thankfully, Paige is understanding of my mom’s shenanigans. I excuse myself halfway through under the guise of using the restroom, but really I find the waitress and cover the bill. My Asian dad may not have stuck around or been a decent guy, but there’s some things that may just be nature. 

I come back to my mom and Paige chatting, and apparently she was telling Paige an embarrassing story of me from childhood. Just great. 

“Yeah she like didn’t talk until she was like four. But she would point. Her two words were ‘puppy’ and ‘soccer.’” My mom tells her and Paige smiles. 

“Aw that’s so cute, my younger brother Drew did that too,” Paige responded. I pulled out my chair to sit back down with a squeak. “My step-mom always claimed that it was because Drew had me to interpret for him so he didn’t need to talk since I was fluent in Drew.” 

It makes my mom laugh which makes me smile. Paige is good.

Our waitress comes back and my mom asks for the check, so she lets us know it has “already been taken care of.” 

My mom fake scowls at me, and Paige gives me a look I can’t quite decipher. 

Paige 

I open my phone to call Azzi, but for some reason my fingers hover over Ava’s contact instead. 

u didn't have to do that u know

Do what?

buy brunch

I think the words you're looking for are "Thank you, Ava"

Thank you, Ava

You're welcome, Paige

The way she texted my name had the same effect on me as her actually saying it. I can see the way her lips wrap around the P of my name in my head. I need to send something to change the mood.

ur mom is cool

Ok ew don't text me that

I don’t know what to say because “sorry” doesn’t sound quite right. I’m not sorry. I do think Ava’s mom is cool. And pretty. I know where Ava gets her beauty from. 

Turning the the other side of the couch I had flopped down on five minutes ago, I pick up Aziz’s call instead of trying to craft a lackluster response to Ava.

“Yo, what’s up?” I ask her. 

“Please tell me you don’t answer the phone like that with other people.” She sighs in response. 

“This is just for you, Az.” I chirp in response. “But seriously, what’s been going on with you? How’s Dallas?” 

“Eh, Dallas is Dallas, like always.” She says. “Practice is practice. Life is life.” 

“Well you don’t sound very enthused,” I noted. “What’s going on.” 

She sighed, even longer this time. “Just worrying about my offseason training, nothing new. I want to hear about what’s been going on with you. How was Cam’s party?” 

I almost don’t want to answer about the party, because I know that means bringing up Ava, and for some reason there’s a part of me that wants to keep her to myself. Like she’s too special to share. 

But that’s ridiculous. I shake my head and answer her truthfully. 

“Wait what!?” Her gentle voice somehow screeches through my phone speaker, and I place her on my living room table so I can stretch my arms over my head. 

I let myself laugh along with her. I know. It’s almost ridiculous. I’m crushing on a movie star. Who’s also smart and pretty and athletic. Who I have no idea if she likes me back. 

Azzi sighs yet again. I make a mental note to wear her down until she tells me what’s really going on. Because I know something is. She’s my best friend. 

“I have to go,” She says. She sounds miserable. “I miss you. I love you!”

“Love and miss you too, Az.” I say and she hangs up. I turn onto my back and close my eyes, letting the silence of my apartment envelope me. 

I knock on what I hope is the front door of Ava’s townhouse. It’s white and modern. She has a nice yard and a single potted plant by her door. There’s a pumpkin on the step and I’m scared of how long it’s been there. 

The knock earns me no response, so I ring the doorbell. I hear it reverberate through her house, and then an indecipherable shout and heavy thudding footsteps of someone running down stairs before the door is thrust open so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t hit the wall next to it. 

A very frazzled Ava greets me, followed by the most adorable black Scottish terrier I’ve ever laid my eyes on scurrying behind her. I could never have imagined something could upstage Ava, but her dog definitely does.

I crouch down to pet the dog and it props its two front legs up on my knee, licking my ear. I don’t mind, and Ava seems too distracted to tell them to get down. 

“Her name is Frankie,” She says, a fond smile flitting across her face. Her hair is half curled, and she appears to be wearing a full face of makeup with bare lips. “She really likes you, you know.” 

Everything about this moment makes me smile. The way Ava looks effortlessly beautiful in her half-ready state. It feels too intimate for me to witness. I’m filled with an overwhelming amount of pride that her dog likes me. 

“You look nice,” I offer, truthfully. It slips out. I didn’t mean to say anything too forward in my flirting or cross weird lines or make any moves or confusion. Yes, it’s hard when you compliment a (bitchy) straight girl when she knows you’re gay, but personally it has always been harder for me to compliment my also lesbian female friends. Weirdly, I’m not worried about how she’s interpreting it, but rather aim to stick the thought process in my mind to analyze later. How did I intend it? 

Luckily, she just scoffs. 

“Yeah, whatever, if you say so Paige. You look good.” 

It makes me smile against myself. 

“Thanks. But I mean it, you know?”

“I am obviously running behind,” She says, gesturing frantically with her hands. Another female voice calls for her from up the stairs, who I’m pretty sure is her mom. But now I’m concerned why the thought of it not being her mom is making me slightly jealous. Shit. I’m done for. 

A red leash with pink hearts and a purple collar is placed into my hands as I stand. 

“Do you mind walking Frankie quickly before we leave? I haven’t done it yet and I need to help my mom with something.” She makes a face when she says “something” that indicates she doesn’t really know what her mom called her for. “Usually just up and down the street is enough to get her to go, and there’s bags on the leash.” 

I snap the collar onto Frankie as she thanks me profusely before trotting back up the stairs. 

“Guess it’s just you and me, kid.” I say and lead her out the door. She lets out a huff of air. 

I walk her up and down the block, Frankie trotting perfectly next to me. Of course a perfect woman like Ava has a perfectly leash trained dog. I walk her to the end of the street and back, trying to let all of my fast-paced thoughts go. 

Seeing Ava like that felt like she was letting me in to a private part of her, for some weird reason. She doesn’t seem to me like the type of woman to pressure herself to always be put together, but I guess whenever I see her she is. She’s secure in those moments and she’s secure when I knock five minutes too early on her door. 

Frankie and I make it back to Ava’s small front yard, and she gracefully stops in the grass to go to the bathroom. I grab it with a bag, not even surprised anymore about how perfect the dog is. 

I open the door and wipe her paws and butt with a wipe from the pack decorated with paw prints on the shelf. Then I unclip the leash and hang it up, but stop, unsure of what to do next. Was it weird I let myself into her house? Probably not any weirder than walking her dog, right? 

Thankfully I don’t have to think on it too long because she bounds down the stairs with her mom, and we’re off. 

At the game we slide into our seats, Cam’s fiancé on the end and then her, Ava’s mom (since the two of them haven’t stopped talking since we picked up Cam), followed by Ava, and then me. 

There’s a good amount of time before the game starts and Ava’s mom is still completely immersed in conversation with Cam. Which means lucky me gets to talk to Ava. 

I turn to her, a plan forming in my mind. 

“So tell me more,” I try to prompt her, and she turns to me from where she was staring off at the court, seemingly tracking the players warming up. 

“Huh? What do you mean?” She says, her eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“Tell me more,” I say to her again. I struggle to hide a small smile fighting its way onto my face. 

“I wasn’t saying anything, Paige.” By the way she says my name she sounds slightly displeased and it worries me, before I look her in the eyes, trained on mine already, and see the mischief gleaming behind them. 

“Tell me more about yourself, Ava. So far I know you were Cam’s roommate, you went to Stanford, you played soccer. Midfield.” I echo the way she told me at the bar in Cam's yard that night. I see a smile creep onto her face, and my heart hopes it’s at the memory. “Your go to drink is a Shirley temple, you’re a Christian but once struggled with your faith, you’re gay,” I lean in towards her and whisper for the last one, before returning to normal. “You sleep like a rock, you’re gorgeous when you just wake up,” I pause, counting them all on my fingers. Maybe I’ll reach double digits at this rate. “You’re close with your mom, you like the Lakers-“ 

“So it seems like you know a lot about me already.” Ava cuts me off. Now it looks like she’s the one planning something. “What, specifically, would you like to know, Paige.” 

The perfect opening to hit her with a silly, small talk first date get to know you question. 

“Well, for starters, do you have any siblings?” I ask nonchalantly and shrug. 

Ava snorts out a laugh that she tries to cover with the back of her hand. 

“I have a sister. She actually lives next door to me. I only found out we were related a year after I moved in. She’s twelve.” Ava smiles so I smile back. Oh my, would I like to meet her sister. But oh my, would I like to kiss that smile more. 

I shake the thought out of my head. Ava keeps talking, almost lighting up as she describes Ellie, her sister, and discusses her hobbies and interests, and the adventures she’s gotten to take her on at length. I really hit the jackpot with this question. 

“I mean, technically she’s just my half sister, but-“ 

Now it’s my turn to cut her off. “It’s not different, I get it.” 

“I don’t have a full sibling so I wouldn’t know how to compare.” 

“With Drew my younger brother, he’s everything. We only share a dad, but we also share a soul, I just know.” 

This makes her smile. She gets it. More importantly, she knows that I get it.

The lights lower and a loud rumbling voice begins to announce the happenings as players begin to run out from the tunnel. It pulls us from our conversation and we clap. I realize that we were practically turned in our seats to face each other because I have to turn back. 

A few minutes in to the second quarter, I stand and declare it’s time for hot dogs. I turn to walk out of our row and Ava follows, claiming she’s getting up to “lend me a hand.” 

As we wait in line, only a few people in front of us, she speaks and I have to forcefully drag my eyes away from the place they had been resting, looking at her perfect hands clad in dainty gold rings, perched over her stomach as she uses her left hand to twist the one on her right ring finger around and around and around. 

“Ok my turn. But I’m not letting you off the hook with ‘do you have any siblings?’” She quotes me using a horrible frat boy impression. 

I look up at her through my eyelashes, a smirk on my mouth. I quirk my eyebrows. “Is that really what you think of me?” 

“Oh, you think I think about you?” she says smirking back. Flirting back! It brings the butterflies in my stomach into full torment mode. I will be remembering this moment for forever. 

I open my mouth to say something but she lets out a huff of air instead and squares her shoulders. We’re moving on. 

“Why basketball? I’m sure you played other sports as a kid, so, why basketball?” 

I take a second to contemplate, gathering my thoughts before answering so I can be as sincere as Ava deserves. 

“It’s the only place I felt at home. The flow state. It still takes hard work but it’s the only sport that just felt right. That just clicked.” I answer. Even though she looks like she’s listening, Ava doesn’t say anything in response. I take a deep breath and keep going. She knows I have more I could say, I guess. “It’s also what I clung to when my parents divorced. They told me during soccer season, so soccer was ruined for me. Then I had basketball to look forward to, basketball to focus on, basketball that wasn’t going to change. Basketball that I couldn’t ruin.” 

The moment is heavy. Ava’s gorgeous brown eyes look into mine and I’m almost surprised when I see understanding instead of pity. 

“Paige,” She says, placing a gentle, warm hand on my elbow. That’s her only response. Just one word. One simple touch. But she’s with it she's saying everything. She gets me and basketball just as much as I got her and Ellie. 

We’re called up to the counter and order the hot dogs. She tacks on a few baskets of fries. When the screen tells us to pay she quite literally elbows me out of the way and uses her card as I’m reaching out for my own.

For a reason I wished I regret knowing, I don’t move farther back, and instead relish the brush of her hair against my shoulder, the scent of orange and vanilla lingering in the air now, and the sweep of her hip against the very top of my thighs as she grabs half of the food and turns back to head towards our seats. 

The game is interesting, and Ava and I ease into a steady rhythm of trading quips or comments back and forth. I’m funny and she’s funny. A match made in heaven, I think to myself. Maybe I should stop thinking to myself. 

At some point Ava’s mom stands up and announces she’s going to the bathroom. Her brown hair is wavy in the same way Ava’s is, but shorter. It looks just as soft and I catch myself wondering if it smells like Ava’s vanilla and orange. 

“Which way is it, Paige?” Her mom asks me. I’m a little stunned why she would be asking me that until I realize it’s so that I come with her. Obviously she can find a bathroom by herself.

“Oh um let me show you,” I say and stand up from my seat, following Sarah out of the row. 

When we’re out in the hallway I keep up the gesture of showing her where the bathroom is and point simply across the hall. I mumble a few nondescript words about it being “over there” since I’m really just waiting for her to say something.

“Thanks, Paige.” She says but doesn’t turn away. “So you and Ava.”

Her words hang in the air, turning the space around us thick. What about me and Ava? We’re friends? Can she see I’m flirting with her daughter? Does she want me to stop flirting with her daughter?

Suddenly she cracks a grin and lets loose a laugh so compelling that I just have to laugh with her. She reaches for my elbow just like her daughter did half an hour ago. 

“I’m not grilling you at all, sweetie, sorry I just thought it would be fun to see you sweat.” She smiles to herself, her plan having obviously worked. “Anyways I was just going to tell you that she likes you. She’s probably just beginning to realize it now, but I know she does. I think you like her too since you haven’t stopped flirting with her ever, even in my presence.”

This makes me blush. Which, in turn, makes Sarah smile more. 

“Just a word of warning, honey. You have to be really patient with her. If you act too soon you will scare her off, and I would really hate to see that. You two will be so good together. I suggest you wait for her to make the first move when she’s ready.” 

I nod, taking this all in. Her mom thinks? Knows? That she likes me. And that I like her. And she wants us to get together. But from the sounds of it I need to wait for her to make the first move. Huh. 

“And I know I cannot just ask you to wait or something. I’m trying not to ask anything of you, but rather tell you what I see in Ava. The flirting is good for her. Please don’t think I’m telling you to stop. I’m gonna work on her from my end, see what I can do.” 

I don’t know what to say but Ava’s mom seems to know even that too. 

“I’m almost sorry for dropping this on you. I’m gonna hit the bathroom, maybe consider a walk if you don’t want to return yet.” She says with a warm smile and I nod in response, turning to go for a short walk.