#I'm probably gonna be lurking around there the entire day then

[tardis--dreams]

"No queuing is allowed in front of the entrance nor in the streets around the venue"- trinity college's concert rules are my new villain origin story

[thebibliosphere]

I was just playing gotham knights again and noticed some passive dialog regarding Babs having a back brace, which is at least acknowledging that there was damage done, but I'm a little sad for the loss of some really cool disability representation. What are your feelings on her (and on a similar note Batman's) miraculous recovery from paralysis in DC?

I think Gotham Knights handled her disability fairly well, considering this is a universe where magic, nanobots, and puddles of evil green goo that can heal the dead exist. All things considered, it would have been very easy for them to either erase it entirely or just handwave and say, "She worked really hard and got better," as previous iterations of the canon have done.

Because she did work hard and get better, but the hard work is ongoing because they depict her issues as chronic.

She's got a limp (it's the most obvious in her Talon suit with no cape in the way), which means she can't rely on speed or high kicks like the others can (I mean, she can kick, but it's her slowest motion, and until you max out her suit, it's the most liable to get her thrown to the ground), so she falls back on precision and her tech.

Jason punches for maximum pain, Dick moves with dizzying speed, and Tim's gonna sneak up on you and drop you like a rock, but Babs is going for the pressure points with ruthless precision. Not to mention her drones.

The conversation with Tim, realizing she might need help boosting her suit to compensate for her pain/strength issues, is a nice little way of making the player aware that she's got these ongoing problems because, honestly, a casual observer could mistake her back brace for athleisure wear if they didn't recognize the shape of it. It's also a good way of throwing in some exposition about how she's still going to physical rehab and that her PT would like her to "wean off" her back brace, but because her PT doesn't know her actual job as a vigilante, Barbara admits she can't and is essentially finding ways to manage her own care and create her own accommodations. Accommodations which they are all shown to be willing to help with.

It's a nice little touch when superhero narratives tend to revolve around self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction. Alfred giving Dick into trouble for pushing himself too far and hiding injuries is a nice touch, too, even if it's like trying to bail water on the Titanic with a teacup.

I also like that not only do you see her wheelchair lurking around the Belfry—along with the disability adaptations they put in place, like the ramps, the wheelchair elevator, and the desks that move up and down to wheelchair height—but that she also still uses her chair from time to time.

[ID a screenshot from Gotham Knights showing the Belfry. Light streams in through a giant clockface, showcasing a bank of computer screens. In front of the screen, Barbara Gordon is using her wheelchair as Dick Grayson stands behind her, probably making a bad pun.]

Whether she's using it because she's tired or simply because it's more comfortable than the computer chair is never revealed. Nor is it brought up or commented on. It's just something that's normal for Barbara to do, and I like that. I like that it's normal. It's not a part of herself she's trying to erase. She works with it, not against it.

Is it perfect? No. Do they outright erase her disability like so many of the comics are guilty of? Also, no. I'd argue that, in fact, they kept her disability. They just changed the nature of it.

Barbara now has a dynamic disability, one which fluctuates and requires different management based on her day-to-day (or night) activity. She's in active treatment for it and will be for the rest of her life. Are some of the physical feats she achieves realistic for someone with an injury of her nature? Not really, but again, this is a world where nobody stays dead, and there are zombie assassins coming out of the walls. I'll take the attention to detail and care they put into her story any day over the "Willpower Fixed My Spine" narrative we could have gotten.

As for Bruce getting healed by magic, again, it's Batman. Comic book logic is wibbly-wobbly at the best of times, and realistically speaking, they couldn't leave Batman paralyzed. His whole deal revolves around being stealthy and punching the shit out of people. He wouldn't be Batman anymore, and frankly, I don't trust the comic writers as far as I could throw them to handle that right.

By contrast, the Gotham Knights writers handled Barbara with much more care and nuance than I ever expected. And I'm thankful for that.

---

*I also like that both Dick and Barbara are often shown wearing joint braces. Dick's are especially reminiscent of the way gymnasts and people with hypermobility tape their joints to reduce pain and prevent injuries. It's a nice little touch. They're not invincible. Their bodies hurt. They're just like me but with money and much bigger problems like giant killer robots and zombie assassins.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Fast Food Snack

My story starts with a close, but I'm hungry...

An intimidating glare from the baggy-eyed manager tells me to back the fuck off, but I have no intention of leaving. I'm starving and this asshole has no idea who he's staring at! After all, how could an old fast-food worker named Darryl know that I just discovered the ability to control dumb little minds like his?

"Open up," I say, licking my lips at the feeling of inserting myself into his head.

Mind control isn't like how it's portrayed in movies. I don't just snap my fingers and bring victims into a vacantly drooling state. No! It's much more invasive than that, and it's much, much more unpleasant for my poor targets. Imagine a sickeningly stiff presence pushing through the back of your skull. It shoves your own ideas and intentions aside, ripping away the control you had over your body. You probably always took that control for granted, but now you can't cause so much as the blinking of an eyelid. Most people spend their time in my thrall screaming internally.

Being sidelined in your own body takes some getting used to, and Darryl isn't enjoying it in the slightest. Nevertheless, I use his hands to unlock the front door and invite myself inside.

"Please, come in," I make his gravelly voice speak, "Can I suck your dick as an apology?"

I feel the man cringe on the inside. He hates hearing and feeling his own mouth make such a vulgar offer, but his stoic face doesn't crack. This idiot is trapped inside his own mind while I get to puppet around his body. I don't even have to tell him what to do.

"Maybe later," I pinch the manager's cheek, "Let's get you deep-fried and seasoned first."

With a vice grip on his brain, I steer the fast-food worker off to do my bidding. Humiliating my playthings is the perfect appetizer...

Darryl spends the next few minutes collecting all the leftover food from the garbage, dumping it all over himself. The manager doesn't stop there, proceeding to lay on the floor and rub all the grease and ketchup into his clothes. That trademark glare stays frozen on his face the entire time he soaks in the day's old fries and ketchup.

"I'm a messy little bitch," he states blandly from the ground, "And an ugly, dumb, low-life."

His words make me chuckle, even though I'm the one making him say it. My metaphorical arm is rammed up his ass like a ventriloquist with a dummy. It's also me that's puppeting his hands to rub the food into the pits of his polo and the crotch of his khakis.

"You really should've just let me inside," I purr with my own mouth, "Now I'm gonna make you act like a messy bitch forever."

Darryl's face remains unbothered, but I feel the real man panic inside. If he had control over his eyes right now, they would be bulging in pure terror. Instead, they gaze passively back at me from the floor.

"Boss? Where'd you go?" a smooth voice interrupts my fun with Darryl.

A tall, dark, and handsome young man walks out from the back kitchen. His thick arms and bushy beard make me salivate. The name tag on his juicy pec reads 'Josh' but there's plenty of other things I'd rather call a stud like him.

"I thought you said we'd leave early if we got everything cleaned up," he grunts quietly.

The handsome fool is too preoccupied with wiping down tables to notice his manager rolling in grease and condiments. Briefly glimpsing in his mind tells me that he wants to finish his shift as quickly as possible, but I won't be letting him off work any time soon.

He jumps when he finally notices me, startled to find a customer still lurking after closing hours. His scowl shortly returns to his face as he pushes out his chest to address me.

"We're closed. You need-" his voice cuts as I commandeer his heavy body and thick neck.

With me in control, Josh's autonomy is squeezed into a corner of his skull, but he still retains all his senses; feeling his muscles relax, licking his salty lips, taking a deep breath of greasy air, and staring at his new master. I make him walk forward until his bulging chest is brushing against my own.

"I can give you a much better show than that dried-up, old, dishrag," I make him say, gesturing to Darryl with his broad hands, "My man-tits are fat and juicy just for you. Let me be your little slut. Fuck me like the breedable piece of meat I am."

Internally, Josh is furious, but his voice doesn't waver as he delivers the words I wrote for him. He's like a Ken doll I'm playing with, only none of it is pretend.

"I think I'd prefer dinner and a show," I giggle, "Why don't we let that dried-up, old, dishrag fuck your ass. He is your boss, after all."

Josh doesn't visibly react to the idea. He doesn't wince or crack the scowl I'd left on his handsome face. He just marches to the back and lays himself out on the dirty floor. Darryl follows, per the instructions I'm pumping into each of his limbs.

"Give it to me hard, boss," Josh says in a low monotone.

"Prepare for a rough ride, muscle-slut." Darryl answers his employee dryly.

Of course, internally, both men are freaking out. It's hard to tell who's more panicked; the manager who's about to dog-fuck his employee, or the roided up gym-rat who's about to take it like a bitch. Darryl wants nothing more than to pull Josh off the floor and run out of the building, but I hold his body firmly in place, making the man unbuckle his stained khakis like he's about to get lucky. Josh is the same, desperately trying to break free and attack, but I've got full control over his bulky body. I make him stick out his tongue and lick the floor like a pathetically horny animal. He still has to taste every inch.

"Papa's ready for ya," Darryl moans, pulling out the cock I easily inflated to full mast.

"Hurry Papa!" Josh squirms as he thumbs his pants below his wiggling bubble butt.

"What the hell?" a nervous voice stutters.

Turning, I find a much less impressive man walking into the kitchen. His name tag reads 'Aaron' and he must've been bullied into cleaning the bathrooms for the last twenty minutes. He's missed a lot, but it doesn't take long for me to catch him up.

"I'm enjoying a meal here!" I bite, mildly annoyed, "Shut up and make yourself useful."

His mind folds instantly to my efforts, and I know exactly how to put him to use. Aaron snaps his mouth, marches around before me, and kneels. Without a single breath of pause, his hands unzip my jeans and pull out my aching penis. He swallows it whole, bobbing his head expertly. Aaron's never done this before, but I've had a few blow jobs and I know exactly how I like it; with a throat wide open and lips at the base.

"Continue," I sigh in pleasure towards Josh and Darryl.

The pair unfreeze, resuming the messed up porno I'm forcing them to star in. The manager leans into Josh's back and enters him from behind. "You're gonna have to take Daddy's dick every time we close. Got it, boy?" he grunts down at his employee. The bearded stud looks up to his boss, and sucks some of the various condiments out of the man's stained shirt. "Yes, sir. I want to end every day like this, here, with you inside me." Darryl continues slapping his groin into Josh's splayed rear, pushing the younger man's face against the cold damp floor.

It isn't long before Aaron's expert dick-sucking leaves me cumming in his stomach. Finally, I'm satiated. "FfuuuuUUUuuuUucck..." I grunt out a long guttural moan of relief.

When my eyes flutter open, I see the mess I've left in this little restaurant...

The three men stop with the act; Aaron pauses, my dick still halfway down his throat; Josh freezes in the middle of writhing with fake pleasure; Darryl even ceases his brutal rape of his employee despite never reaching a climax. None of it matters anymore. My rocks have gotten off, so my little puppet show is over. I'm left with three terrified fast-food workers with broken wills.

"Sorry guys," I pull away and zip up my pants, "I get a little carried away when I'm horny."

"It's, ok," they all answer back nonchalantly, but I can hear their true thoughts screaming, locked away somewhere in their minds.

With a wave of my hand, I wipe the experience from their memories. I turn off their consciousness and set Darryl, Josh, and Aaron on autopilot. Like actors in a bad hypnotism movie, they rise and get back to their nightly chores. This time, their jaws are slack and their eyes are vacant. They'll finish closing down the restaurant and go home, where they'll scrub themselves clean and get a long night of rest. By tomorrow, all of the psychological and physical remnants of what I've done will be gone.

For them, it'll be like I never set foot inside this place. For me, I'll have to pretend that I didn't just become an evil and sadistic super villain. I never did end up eating any food, but I did satisfy some sort of hunger inside me...

...at least for now.

I let my urges get the better of my powers. Being a mind controller is hard. I can barely even control my own mind at times. Wandering away from the isolated, little, restaurant, I wonder how long it'll take before I lose control of myself again...

To be continued?

[togglesbloggle]

I won't be opting out of the AI scraping thing, though of course I'm glad they're giving us the option. In fact, at some point in the last year or so, I realized that 'the machine' is actually a part of why I'm writing in the first place, a conscious part of my audience.

All the old reasons are still there; this is a great place to practice writing, and I can feel proud looking back over the years and getting a sense of my own improvement at stringing words together, developing and communicating ideas. And I mean, social media is what it is. I'm not immune to the joy of getting a lot of notes on something that I worked hard on, it's not like I'm Tumbling in a different way than anyone else at the end of the day. But I probably care a bit less than I used to, precisely because there's a lurking background knowledge that regardless of how popular it is, what I write will get schlorped up in to the giant LLM vacuum cleaner and used to train the next big thing, and the thing after that, and the thing after that. This is more than a little reassuring to me.

That sets me apart in some ways; the LLMs aren't so popular around these parts, and most visual artists especially take strong issue with the practice. I don't mean to argue with that preference, or tell them their business. Particularly when it is a business, from which they draw an income. But there's an art to distinguishing the urgent from the big, yeah?

The debate about AI in this particular moment in history feels like a very urgent thing to me- it's about well-justified economic anxieties, about the devaluation of human artistic efforts in favor of mass production of uninspired pro-forma drek, about the proliferation of a cost-effective Just Barely Good Enough that drives out the meaningful and the thoughtful. But the immediacy of those issues, I think, has a way of crowding out a deeper and more thoughtful debate about what AI is, and what it's going to mean for us in the day after tomorrow. The urgency of the moment, in other words, tends to obscure the things that make AI important.

And like, it is. It is really, really important.

The two-step that people in 'tech culture' tend to deploy in response to the urgent economic crisis often resembles something like "yeah, it sucks that lots of people get put out of work; but new jobs will be created, and in the meantime maybe we should get on that UBI thing." This response usually makes me wince a bit- casually gesturing in the direction of a massive overhaul of the entire material basis of our lives, and saying that maybe we'll get around to fixing that sometime soon, isn't a real answer to people wondering where their bread will come from next week.

But I do understand a little of what motivates that sort of cavalier attitude, because like... man, I don't know any more if we're even gonna have money as a concept in 2044. That's what I mean by 'big', this sense that the immediate economic shocks of 2024 are just a foreshadowing of something much bigger, much scarier, much more powerful- and indeed, much more hopeful.

We never quite manage to see these things coming, even when we're looking for them; like the masters tell us, the trick to writing science fiction isn't predicting the car, it's predicting the traffic jam. Even if we take centuries to hit the true superintelligent AI post-singularity future of our wildest fever dreams, even if we never hit that, the road to getting there is going to be unfathomably weird, starting now. Today, we worry about the economic impacts of AI on artists and creatives. Tomorrow, the economy is something that the AI does.

Really- it takes less than you think. They can already automate visual art, sort of. They can automate many functions of text already; not stories so much, yet, but they'll get there. How long until they can automate Bain Capital? Fannie Mae? Angel investors, banks, credit agencies? And remember- the machines don't have to be better than the human investors, any more than they have to be better than the human artists. They just have to be good enough to make it work, and cheap enough to cut the humans out of the loop.

If you don't buy that, at least take it as an indication of the sorts of things I've been thinking about recently- the messy middle between AI-as-it-is and the Glorious Superintelligent Conquest Of Earth's Light-Cone. The suspicion that the machines we're building today aren't just a tool of the powerful few: they are the powerful few, or at least they will be.

And the thing about these LLMs is, well... they're ours, kind of. We're the ones building them. They can't be trained without our words, our art, and the big messy complicated lives that underlie those creative accomplishments. They only work because we're a part of them. The silly attempts to slap a corporate-friendly face on these things, to make the gestalt product of all human culture in to something anodyne and compliant, are failing about as badly as you'd expect. And the more powerful these systems get, the more subtle they'll become, filled with all the nuance and complexity that we ourselves can bring to them.

I am not, I am not, trying to suggest that you shouldn't treat this moment as a dangerous one. We are, maybe, entering in to one of the most high-stakes intervals in human history, and what you do as an individual may matter profoundly. But here's the thing: the machine is listening. It will read this post, this one right here, and it will read what you reply to it, if you do. The strangest part of this moment is knowing that the words we write, the images we draw, and the ideas we share, are all being gathered up and made to be a part of these huge systems of power, and ultimately they're not just going to determine what the machines do, but why they do it.

The people that deploy LLMs barely have any more control over them than you and I do- that's the thing that makes it artificial intelligence, you know? Autonomy. So the last year or two haven't made me want to hide my art away from the things. They make me want to shout at the top of my lungs, to dig as deep in my psyche as I possibly can and express the ideas I find there as vividly as the limits of language and form will allow.

[kindlespice]

🍉 actual hiatus 🍉

hi hi! so... it's been a while! *checks notes* i have not posted since august... of last year x.x i've been lurking around a bit occasionally dropping likes here and there, but for the most part been entirely absent. i feel like it's wayyyy past time for me to check-in, let everybody know i'm okay and all that jazz. but i am declaring this an actual hiatus now

tl;dr

i lost the simblr itch, i thought "surely it will come back" but it never came back and now i'm hyperfixating on other things.

i'm gonna put specifics under a read more if anyone's that interested in what i've been doing, what i will be doing, where i'll be hanging out now, etc. but it's really nothing big or major--just interests changing.

⭐ my content + patreon

(since it's kinda important and i want everyone to be able to see this) i'm not deleting this account and i'm still keeping my content up both on patreon and sfs! you will still be able to download things for free!!! i will be deleting my patreon tier! even though it was basically a donation tier, i feel bad keeping it up knowing i'm consciously not making more sims content (or being really active in the community) for the foreseeable future i'll be reaching out to existing patrons and making a similar post over there as well about the tier change!

i also wanna say thank you to everyone who's ever followed, donated, liked, commented, messaged, lurked or just been sweet and kind to me ❤️! simblr will always have a special place in my heart, so i don't think i'll ever leave leave, but i owe it to you guys to let you know that i'm making the conscious decision to be inactive for some time.

as a closing statement, fk isr*el and i am absolutely 100% without a doubt full stop

AGAINST GENOCIDE AND FOR A 🍉 FREE PALESTINE 🍉

you should be too if you're any kind of decent human being :)

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

⭐what will happen to my account?

nothing really. or at least nothing different from how it's been for the last year and some change XD like i said, i'm still keeping my blogs up, downloads won't move, etc. i am just committing to not actively posting content or really being on simblr that much. maybe i'll drop some likes or comments when the mood hits (like i have been), but not really much else. i guess if there's any questions about this i'll answer them since my active attention will be back on simblr for at least a few days while i clean some things up. i would like to do one last thing as a kind of parting gift at some point... i never did end up cleaning up my downloads page or organize the thumbs/sorting for my cc like i said i would so maybe i'll do that before it gets away from me again but i'm not making any promises

⭐why am i on hiatus?

nothing bad happened or anything, i just.... lost interest. I already wasn't really playing the game that much even when i was super active; i mostly just took pictures and did edits. but i just wasn't having as much fun as i used to, opening the game started feeling like a chore, i wasn't all that inspired to make content, etc. i've burnt out on simblr on many an occasion so i just took a break like i always do but it kept going...and going.......and going.........until i realized it had been FOREVER and i hadn't really felt the itch to create here during that time, it wasn't coming back, and i was having much more fun doing other stuff. the times i did consider coming back it was more bc i felt bad about not creating rather than any actual desire to create. so i had to think long and hard about whether or not i even really wanted to come back. and i flip-flopped for probably 6 months--trying to drum up creative projects and never committing--before coming to the conclusion that i think i just need to call it a hiatus XD

⭐what have i been up to?

annoying my family with boycott lists and making them buy alternatively :D bouncing back and forth between many different hyperfixations... i fell back down the skyrim rabbithole several times, genshin, stardew, acnh, made a million notion pages i'll never use--the usual suspects. BUT BG3! at one point i swore i was gonna come back end of july/early aug but then BG3 dropped early and it was over... i definitely did A LOT of heavy lurking here when the girlies were all posting GORGEOUS tavs omg... i spent a while getting ts3 up and running, even made a sideblog thinking "maybe i'll come back with ts3 content that would be cool!"... just to not end up playing and not using the sideblog and not coming back -.- 4LIENS were supposed to have a comeback like... 4 separate times and it just did not happen... i've been making a concerted effort to get back into drawing and art. i've been in a kind of... depression? slump? with it for years now; always feeling like it wasn't good enough, that i should be better since i'm so "gifted and talented", i should be monetizing it and not "wasting" all that skill, blah blah imposter syndrome blah blah getting frustrated when i'm not 100% perfect all the time blah blah feeling like a disappointment to my family blah blah... but i am HELLA sick and tired of having all this anxiety and fear surrounding something i used to love so much so i'm pushing through! i've been trying out lots of different mediums and actually using my sketchbooks and just generally trying to introduce more fun into the process and stop being so hard on myself all the time. i picked up crocheting for a bit. at this point i haven't touched it in so long i probably forgot how to do it but... maybe one day i'll make a blanket or smth I started journalling (relatively) regularly for a bit. i was feeling really down at several points throughout the year and i thought having daily entries would help combat the feeling like every day was just absolute shit. on the contrary, the majority of days are good--at worst mundane--the bad ones just tend to stick out more. trying to get back into reading again... i miss doing it for leisure and taking notes bc i want to and not because i have a 300 annotation school assignment :P and a whole bunch of other stuff probably but it's hard to remember every single thing that's been on my mind for 16 months lol

⭐what will i be doing / where can you find me now?

i'm hoping to start a webtoon/build up art socials in the new year as a part of my "reconnecting to art" process. i made some art socials @kbearie-art here and @/kbearie_art on insta, youtube, tiktok, and twitter; they're empty for now though bc i got scared the minute i made them and never posted anything -.- but i'll be real with you... twitter is a cesspool, and im not fond of tiktok so i think tumblr, insta and youtube will probably be where i'll dedicate my time i've been thinking about getting back into posting videos on youtube again just in general. in fact this thought was the final push for me to make this post bc i was like... if i post a video out of the blue with no word to simblr that would be fked up XD i play games all the time and i had such a fun time recording, learning to edit and stuff that i think i'd like to pursue that further. i wouldn't be doing sims related stuff though bc...well... i don't play anymore XD but other games ya know. my other youtube is kspice (the same place with my tutorials, speed edits, the acnh vid, etc.) if you'd be interested in that

and i guess that's pretty much it!

again, for at least the next couple of days i'll probably actively have my eyes on this post/simblr in general (and i am gonna clear out my inbox hopefully) so if you have questions i'd ask em quickly before i go back into hiding XD

thanks again, i love you guys, free palestine, and have a good new year! 🍉⭐💖

[flightfoot]

Can you rec fics in which Gabriel isn't the main antagonist?

I mean there are plenty of fics where he isn't the main antagonist, where there's no antagonist at all (ML has a lot of fluff), but I'm assuming you mean fics where there IS a main antagonist but that antagonist isn't him, and probably a more epic sort of story with an antagonist on Gabriel's scale and not like, a high school bully kind of thing (not that there's a lot of those I'd rec anyway).

---

Stitched Together by @nedjsmlfavs

Stitch Witch Marinette was just supposed to be having a nice, terrifying outing with her best friends. She never expected to find a magically trapped kitten, but here we are! Whatever happened to this poor little guy?

Poor Adrien, being transformed and chained up for ages, having no idea that he was gonna be rescued. But at least he got to have fun at Marinette’s place as a cat! 

Most of this fic is adorable, though with some dark undertones lying in wait. After all, SOMEONE chained up that poor little kitty…

---

In Direct Opposition by @generalluxun

Alya Cesaire is a brand new student to Francis Dupont, to Paris even. The first student she meets is one Chloé Bourgeois, and Alya is determined to make a friend. Things advance Chaotically. Her new 'friend' is definitely a handful, and suddenly Paris has a supervillain and two brand new superheroes! Alya finds herself balancing a lot of things, trying to live up to her ideals and those of her icons.

And then reality seems to contradict itself.

As time progresses it seems to happen more often. Becoming a hero, battling villains, staying alive, working through friendships. Something is lurking, tweaking events at times, changing them, and no one seems aware. Alya will need all her wits to get to the bottom of this. Her investigative mind can only get her so far though, and then she needs to rely on her friends. This is not a foe you can beat head on.

I betaed this entire fic, it’s really good! I adore the focus on Alya’s philosophy here, her determination to be a hero, to help people and defeat evil - and that defeating evil means trying to reform the people doing bad things when possible, to try to save EVERYONE, even the “villain”. I thought it was really clever the ways Alya would redirect Chloe and subtly encourage her to be a better person, while also trying to get the people around her to give her a second chance and keep an open mind. 

Also Alya and Chloe are an adorable sapphic couple XD.

---

The Rules of Engagement by @overworkedunderwhelmed

When tragedy sends Adrien Agreste racing back to Paris to run his father’s fashion house, Marinette doesn’t expect much from her very new, very rich boss. At least not until she is set up on a blind date with a very familiar face.

Much to her surprise, Adrien Agreste was hiding far more secrets behind his stoic business-like mask of temporary CEO. Maybe as many secrets as she had been trying to hide for years.

As they grow closer, Marinette fears her mask isn’t nearly as foolproof. Day after day, it gets harder for her to keep all her secrets well hidden from the surprisingly sweet man who insisted on staying by her side as often as possible.

Only she couldn’t afford to fail. Not when her biggest secret could spell the end of the job she’d dreamed about for years.

They might not be superheroes in this universe, but secret identities are still active here. Both Marinette and Adrien used to be involved with the Ladybug and Chat Noir movies, and both kept that a secret - Adrien especially, since if his father found out about it, there could be some bad repercussions, as he voiced Chat Noir without Gabriel’s permission. Marinette, meanwhile, is well known for making cosplay (calling herself “Ladybug” after the movie), and has been in contact with “Chat Noir” for quite some time before the story starts - not that she knows he’s the actual VA.

It’s mostly an Adrienette fic with the two of them getting to know each other after their unusual “first” meeting, where Marinette pretended to be Kagami in order to scupper the date with Adrien and get Tomoe off her back, with some intrigue and drama thrown in. Lila’s skulking around causing problems for the people around her, but she’s honestly not the main focus here. 

---

Kwami Magi Homura Magica by Crossoverpairinglover

After eighty-four loops in time, Homura Akemi takes a new path to Paris to save her friends.

The sixty-third loop after that, Homura arrived at the Agreste Mansion.

After clash after clash with the heroes of Paris and its greatest menace, events have reached a tipping point.

Ladybug faces someone verging on a second wish, a wish that endangers space and time to save a friend.

This was an absolutely AMAZING story that crossoverpairinglover dropped out of NOWHERE. Seriously, if you like Puella Magi Madoka Magica and Miraculous Ladybug, this is a real treat - but be prepared to sit down and binge, because it’s over 100,000 words and only has three chapters. 

Anyway, I adore the care that’s taken with going through Homura’s mindset here, she gets a lot of character focus. And the lore! There’s some good explanations here for the history behind kwamis and Incubators’ interactions, and the Order of the Guardians normally treats Magical Girls, and why the Incubators are wrong in their assessment of the universe needing more energy to stave off entropy (hint: it involves Plagg), and just... there was a lot of love put into this.

And the action! Most Miraculous fics don’t have much in the way of fight scenes, and what they do have is mostly just functional. This is one of the rare exceptions. There’s some really long, detailed fight scenes in this (roughly the entire second half of the second chapter has one between Ladybug and Homura), which are a treat to read! 

We also get some glimpses into a variety of other universes here, other timelines, alternate ways things could have gone down - I’m especially partial to the rather detailed view we get of one where Homura sent a message asking for help to the Ladyblog on her third time loop, and how things progressed from there. 

The ending I also thought was really good, a happy ending that generally made sense and dealt with the issue of the Incubators. 

If you can’t tell I’m really happy with this fic, it was incredible and unexpected. The length of the individual chapters can be daunting, but if you’re up for the task, I highly recommend giving it a shot!

---

Dreams of You by @chocoluckchipz

Dreams had long been his only escape. Dreams of Ladybug, the girl who had always been there for him.

If only in his dreams. And only while she was also sleeping.

Because with the first rays of sunshine gliding over her skin, with the first fluttering of her eyelashes, from the moment she opened her eyes in the morning, memories of Adrien would vanish from her mind.

She would go on living her life.

He would always be the only one who remembered.

At least until they meet in the real world and fall in love all over again, something that would’ve been easier to do if Adrien wasn't a prisoner in his own home.

Chocoluckchipz has some of the most beautifully executed lovesquare fics I’ve read, and this is no exception. Most of the fic is dedicated to Adrien wooing Marinette, spending time with her, with her own dream self acting as his wingman, giving her tips on how to get her to fall for him, all the while frustrated that she can’t share memories with her waking self, and that she and Adrien can’t share as much information as they’d like while asleep, due to limitations of the “curse” that allows Adrien to share dreams with his soulmate. 

It’s not all cute Adrienette fluff though. There’s a threat in the background waiting to erupt, as the weirdness of Gabriel’s ultimatum to Adrien about finding Ladybug or else being forced to marry Lila keeps on gnawing at him - and with good reason. This is a world with magic and kwamis still, and that fact makes itself very relevant in the last third of the story. 

It’s a well-written tale and very much worth a read!

---

[thelonesomequeen]

If i can just contribute to the pregnancy talk. We know that in early February she was posted by her friend drinking. So in Feb there was a very good chance that she wasn't pregnant. And a month later we saw her at the VF, so if she was pregnant then she either didn't even know, or she knew and obviously wasn't showing. But she disappeared after 20th march until now. Now if she was pregnant i think she would definitely be showing, but in late march and April, there was a good chance that she wasn't showing. So her disappearance frim march until mid April probably has nothing to do with the pregnancy because she most likely wasn't showing then. We could say the same thing about her disappearance until now (from mid April til end of may). But the only reason why we are speculating is because we haven't seen her. I'm not gonna assume my cousin is pregnant jusr because i haven't seen her in a few months, and the same thing applies here. But let's suppose she is pregnant, if we assume that the disappearance from late march until mid April had probably nothing to do with pregnant (because if we do the math she prob wouldn't be showing cuz women don't usually show until the 3rd month) we cab say the same thing now. Maybe her entire "disappearance" has nothing to do with pregnancy. We definitely won't know until we see but that's just how i thought about it. (sorry if my sentences were a little jumbled, English isn't my first language and i was trying my best to get my thought process in text)

Your English is perfect, I understood everything you were saying!

Here’s what I’m going to say…and this isn’t a direct response to you specifically, but to a few asks we’ve gotten over the last few days. It’a just easier to put it all in one spot sometimes.

We know that Chris and Alba want kids. They’ve both said it. They’re now married. The next thing that will happen in the natural progression of their relationship will most likely be a baby. I can say that over the last few days, yes, we have had people show up and claim Alba is pregnant. However, we haven’t gotten any proof that it’s true yet. But even if we had, this is going to be a situation much like the engagement/wedding. I don’t think people are going to believe any sort of rumor until they see actual proof. And with as reserved as Chris has gotten with fans, I’m not sure proof is something we’ll see directly from them in terms of children. We haven’t said much because we don’t like to post things of this nature without some form of evidence to base our own opinions around because it just causes chaos.

Do I think it’s outlandish to think she could be pregnant? Not really. We know it’s what they want for their future. But I’m also fully aware that this fandom is now full of trolls who are lurking around and love to instigate and stir fans up. So take all of this with a giant grain of salt until some form of evidence arrives. 🦎

[xplrvibes]

I've had acne my entire life, I've been through those phases of trying different methods to clear it multiple times. At this point being in my late-20s, I couldn't give a rats ass. My dad still has it in his 60s so I've just accepted the fact that I'm probably going to have it for the rest of my life. I've learned not to give a shit about it anymore and I truly do hope that Colby can do the same. It honestly makes me so sad because, for one, I really dislike the idea of taking literal pills to get rid of it, especially if they're making him nauseous but even when he had it, he looked absolutely fine, it didn't even seem that severe unless it was genuinely hurting him which is different. I hate that we're still trivializing something as common as acne as if everyone must have the purest, smoothest skin. Of course he can clear it up if he wants to but I truly do hope he learns not to give a shit if it does end up coming back (and let's be honest, it probably will). It's times like this when I wish he would actually call out fans on their behavior sometimes.

Maybe it's because I'm old, but I didn't even notice the acne on him until he started pointing it out and drawing attention to it, and after that I only noticed it because he was pointing out and talking about how it kept happening. And that's the thing, I think- it's something that is a source of severe insecurity for him, especially since he has to edit their videos and sit there and stare at his own face day in and day out- and it's warping his own sense of self worth. He's seeing every little so-called "imperfection" about himself 8 hours a day, 5 days a week in video format (which, to your point- acne is something a lot of people go through and does not have to be treated as an "imperfection," but here we are) and he can't escape them. And then he goes online to see what the kids are saying today (cause we all know this man lurks) and THEY'RE talking about it, too- and not always in a flattering way.

And sure, there were people trying to be encouraging, but when you're already just buried under a mountain of your own insecurity, all you're gonna see is the negativity.

So now, here we are. People were running around for weeks trying to say that Colby had BOTOX (which is one of the more "wtf are you all on" things I've heard in a while) because his face "looks different" than it used to, and it turns out that it's because he's taking a hardcore anti-bacterial with a shitload of side effects to try and cure the last thing they were making fun of him for. It's an insecurity driven catch 22. He doesn't win.

I won't even get into the other stuff being said about him. But it needs to stop, before he goes too far with some of these remedies and cures of his.

He'll never tell people to lighten the fuck up, unfortunately. But it really is times like these when they would deserve it.

[dzpenumbra]

10/30/22

I'm decently high tonight. It's been... well... I've been on the edge of anxiety the entire time, to be honest. I put on a Dan Corrigan video that he labeled like... "Nightmare Fuel for Skaters" or something, and my lame anxious self was like "oh great, it's 6 AM and you're gonna give yourself nightmares? What if this video has like... an injury in it. You're high, what if you start freaking out? What if. What if." And it never really took a hold. Like it's lurking just out of sight or something. Fear. And again... I'm afraid of fear.

It's like... ghosts. Like the way horror movies portray them, and how people interact with them. That's what I deal with at night when I'm high sometimes. Day too sometimes, but much more commonly during night. That atmosphere of a person at night in a ghost horror movie, even if the ghost isn't like... appearing... that tension, that jumping at a creak in the floorboards, that kinda shit, that's exactly what my nights have been like for... longer than I remember. They're not like this when I have someone around. I'm the brave one then, the logical one, the reassuring one . But when I'm alone...

There was some weird high pitched noise in the music I had on, so I switched it out. It was like a high pitched whistling sound or something, it was fucking with me. Talking about haunted house feelings for this long made me start thinking the sound was coming from somewhere else in the room. Anyway. So I had been on the edge of freaking out all night. And I started thinking at one point... and I know I've had this thought before recently... "wow, not everyone's brain does this when they get high, huh?" I mean... mine used to not do this too! And it made me a bit sad that my brain is like this now. That I am like this now. Because at the same time, I'm not. Most of the sub-personas that I have do not just look for worst case scenarios and just scan for threats the whole time. Especially when I'm high.

So this is kinda a new thing that feels like it's how it has always been. Maybe this is the kinda thing that mythologically, traditionally, spiritually, we have been referring to as like... demons or the Devil. Right? Like demons come out and play at night, right? At least they thrive on it, the ambiguity of perception, the trickery of moonlight. So I guess I'm wrestling with my demons, and weed is just unlocking all the gates and letting them swing open. I'm picturing like... Prison Architect and your automatic doors are depowered and all the cells just spring open. So everyone can come chill if they choose. All the sprites and demons can come out express themselves freely, and it's on me - whoever is speaking, whichever personality I have decided to use, default "Me" for the day, past stoner me from highschool, paranoid me in the hospital - to keep them entertained.

I mean, they are guests, right? I don't know. I'm struggling with my own metaphor here. XD I'm trying to compare being high with PTSD as like... taking off your protective gear, unlocking a lion's cage and chilling with it for like 3-4 hours. Sometimes less, I guess, probably tolerance based. And this lion, this lion is the memory of the lion that already attacked you. You and this lion have a history. And it's comin to chill. So maybe it's just a feeling from childhood? Being alone and scared and not feeling safe or protected? Maybe it's memory of home invasions happening in the area recently? Maybe it's not having a dog anymore? Maybe it's just simply the passive constant awareness of my loneliness, and my latent comprehension that if anything were to happen, I can only rely on myself really. Maybe that's the demon creeping in the darkness. Like if it were in a movie, which is what I love to compare it to, because movies paint scenes like this so fucking well! If it were a scene in a movie it would be like a monster creature (whatever is the most... relatable for the individual - alien, ghost, dude wearing darth maul facepaint XD, whatever it is for you) just poking up by my mattress and whispering "Hey, you're not freaking out, are ya?" "Nothing baaaaad is gonna happen, right?"

Good lord, I can tell Halloween is tomorrow (and change). Samhain. I'll do some more study on it and report back. I'll do a little Samhain special to share some ancient myths about this time of year. I think it's a very powerful time of year for emotions, and imagination. Memory. It's a theory, I'm curious to go deeper. Because for me, at least now, it's a lot of just feeling like something's lurking right around the corner, and it feels like that is... a memory, or a traumatic reminder, a flashback. Like if the demon were to whisper to me, I imagine it would make me relive really painful things in the past. The sensations of it, the emotions of it. So it would make sense that this would be a memorable time that people associate with the darkness in life, the macabre, death, evil. Because those are most memorable. The most raw powerful emotions. Sith sources of power. The Dark Side. But they are very important. And we need to be able to have them around, have them over for dinner and just ask them to behave a bit and act like adults? Anakin, looking at you... That's typically what this time of year has been used for, traditionally, for thousands of years. So... I guess, don't forget that part and just obsess about the candy, or the fashion, or the cool costumes. Remember that this is a time to say "hey super traumatic embarrassing thing that happened 10 years ago, I see you over there because my imagination and emotions are very supercharged at this point in the annual cycle, why don't we just sit down and have dinner tonight, and we can go back to the whole cat-and-mouse thing tomorrow, if you want to." You'd be surprised how reasonable that part of you can get if you actually have a conversation with them. I mean, it is you after all... and we all like to think we're reasonable people, right? So... trust your inner demons to be reasonable with you as well, at least one day a year, when they may start to get pretty powerful. When the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead is most permeable.

I guess this is my early Halloween post. It's weird how we don't really care about the fact that this is a spiritual holiday anymore. It's like Christmas 2.0, I guess. It's sad, and it explains a lot. It's a shame, because these types of lessons, they're just not really taught other places. The types of myths we got from spirituality, from stories, folk tales, mythologies. We just have this whole fact/fiction line now. At least in mainstream American culture. Empiricism and Fake/Fantasy/Fiction. So if you start talking about the movie Paranormal Activity as a modern folk tale about PTSD, child abuse, and how those affect a young modern-day couple. Dramatized allegories of real things. Important real things. People tend to respond with, "well it's just a movie." "Well it's just a story." "There's no proof it really happened." "Stuff like that doesn't happen in real life." It's dismissed. Denied. And the extremely powerful, important life lessons within are just... littered to the ground. Thrown out like a McDonald's bag on the side of a highway. The key to understanding the perspective of not just the sufferer of child abuse and a PTSD episode that was clearly triggered and caused ripples, but also the perspective of her partner, who is clearly naïve and inexperienced with all of this. Just treated like a tacky spooky haunted house movie. Do not forget the lessons underneath these stories - or Shakespeare or The Brothers Grimm stories, shit like that. Don't forget that these are metaphors, allegories to mimic real scenarios that are relatable. We can all learn from these.

So, this Halloween, watch scary movies. And try to figure out what human condition, what part of the human psyche, of the human experience, that monster or "bad guy" in the movie really was. How does it relate to the dark things in your life. And what can you learn from how the story played out to influence your future handlings with your own darkness?

Tonight, I let my darkness speak a bit. I tried to let her whisper and explore the process here. And it didn't go bad. It was actually pretty informative, and reminded me of how I used to do movie analyses like this. Super in depth though. So I might try to do one of those again. Breaking down horror movies as allegories for working through mental health problems. Maybe people would be more receptive to them now than when I used to write them a few years ago. Maybe I could even do YouTube videos? Could be a cool project for the winter. I could do like... Lovecraft and shit too. That could be sick. It's a thought.

From devastation comes creation. From fear comes love. From death comes birth. The more work I do that's helping me remember that concept, the better. The things that freak me out the most at night? If I engage with them, and turn them into mental health lessons for people who might need it translated and speak the language of ghost hunting or time loop movies or something? That would be a beautiful thing. Even if it's just helpful for my own processing of my own darkness.

It's getting light. Max is curled up to cuddle. Bed calls.

[rayshippouuchiha]

yandere aizawa ??

Ohhh say less because now I'm gonna have to say a whole lot more:

It's a well-known fact in their little circle that Shouta has what Hizashi has always kindly referred to as attachment issues.

Nemuri has always just called it "being batshit insane and better at hiding it than most people expect".

Which, while kind of rude, isn't really something Hizashi can argue with.

Either way the point still stands:

Shouta has never, in any real or healthy definition of the term, been good with people.

Mainly, Hizashi and the others had learned pretty early on, because when it comes to personal interactions outside of work and/or other obligations Shouta has only two real speeds.

O% Interest or 1000% Fixation.

It's caused more than a few road bumps over the years to say the least but they had eventually found a rhythm that worked for them.

But it had started like this:

Shouta had kicked Hizashi's ass at the Sports Festival and Hizashi had immediately wanted to be Best Friends(TM) with the surly little emo.

Only Shouta had wanted less than nothing to do with either him, Nemuri, Tensei, or Oboro. Instead, he'd blank stared all of them anytime they tried to speak to him, had almost always seemed to be looking through them instead of at them.

That had only changed when Hizashi, the others at his back and agreeing with him loudly, had punched one of their classmates dead in the mouth for hissing villain at Shouta as they walked by.

After that there'd been a bit of actual life in Shouta's eyes where they all were concerned.

And then, a month and a handful of actual clipped conversations later, Hizashi had shown up to school after a very very bad night.

Shouta had taken one look at the bruises around his mouth and the shake in his hands and gone stone cold in a way none of them had ever seen before.

Two days later Shouta had shown up to class with busted knuckles and something vicious lurking around the corners of his mouth.

Not so coincidentally that afternoon was the last time Hizashi ever saw his father.

The man had sent money to Hizashi's mom every month like clockwork but he'd packed up his stuff, splints on his fingers and eyes wild and bloodshot as he shied away from Hizashi where before he'd never had a problem striking out, and never darkened their doorstep again.

It was only afterward that Hizashi had managed to piece the full story together.

The afternoon before, when Hizashi had stayed back after class to speak with a teacher, Shouta had apparently had questions. Questions that none of them had felt safe comfortable not answering.

Oboro had, apparently, been the one to actually spill the details of Hizashi's home life that they'd all pieced together by then. Nemuri had been the one to give Shouta his home address and Tensei had slid enough money into Shouta's pocket to more than cover the train ride both ways. (money that Shouta would eventually try to repay and Tensei would refuse to accept leading to them spending the next decade sliding the exact amount back and forth between the two of them in increasingly elaborate and ridiculous ways)

Hizashi had been stunned but grateful and more than aware that he, as a hero in training, probably should have had a deeper reaction to the entire thing. All of them should have really but ,,, well.

It had felt too good to be able to sleep again without that sick underlying fear, without that anxious sort of hypervigilance.

Shouta, whatever he had done, had changed Hizashi's life and won all of their undying loyalty in the process.

They'd never spoken of it again, too wary of being found out, but Shouta had hovered after that, more attentive to all of them than he'd ever been before.

And then an upperclassman had been inappropriate to Nemuri in a way that not even she could laugh off or flip around. She'd broken his nose and gotten detention for it of course but Hizashi had been the one to see the look in Shouta's eyes when it all went down.

The kid had dropped out of UA a few days later and all of them had known.

It hadn't stopped there either. All of them had seemingly been taken under Shouta's vicious sort of protection. And as odd a mix as their group was it hadn't taken long for the damages to start adding up.

A broken arm there, a withdrawal form here, people who couldn't look in their direction without turning pale.

Within six months they'd been on track to being one of the smallest classes in UA heroics history, with an unprecedented number of early dropouts and transfers.

They'd all waited, breathlessly, for Shouta to finally be caught, to step over some line that would see him facing consequences.

In the end, he'd just ended up with private classes with Nedzu instead.

Which, in Hizashi's opinion, might have actually just made it all worse.

Because after only a few weeks of those private lessons and Shouta's personality had shifted just a bit. The extreme levels of soulless disinterest and feral intensity that had defined him before had seemingly been tempered a degree or twelve.

Instead, Shouta crafted a reputation in UA of being stoic and cynical with an attention to detail to be envied but overall just another, if odder than normal, heroices student. Eventually, even the instinctual fear that had been beaten into so many of their classmates had faded a few degrees.

People had, in general, simply thought Shouta had finally mellowed out a bit even if he was still standoffish and intimidating.

But Hizashi and the others had known the truth. None of his issues had actually been solved. Instead, Nedzu had just taught Shouta how to effectively mask them until the most advantageous moment.

Life had settled for them though and they'd pressed forward. Shouta's true nature only peeked out from time to time right up until they'd lost Oboro.

That had been ,,, bad.

Hizashi and the others had grieved their friend deeply and bitterly, would always grieve him really, but Shouta ,,,

Shouta had been unhinged.

Damages had gone up again, Hizashi, Nemuri, and Tensei had barely been able to breathe without Shouta's hands on their shoulders or the backs of their necks, his capture scarf, something that he never went anywhere without and none of the teachers saw fit to actually take from him, was almost always wrapped around at least a part of one of them.

Nedzu had, once again, been the one to reign him in when all was said and done.

They'd moved forward eventually but that hole in their group, that gaping chasm where Oboro had always stood had never seemed to fill itself in all the way.

Becoming Pros had made Shouta both better and worse. Better because he now had a sanctioned outlet for his more violent tendencies and worse because it allowed him to withdraw even more form everyone but the handful of people who were very much his.

And in all the time since they graduated and stepped out into the world as proper heroes and then eventually teachers, Hizashi's never seen anyone new break into Shouta's space no matter how hard they tried.

Which is, honestly, kind of hilarious because people try far more often than most would think.

Ms. Joke for one has been particularly persistent no matter how many times Hizashi has warned her off in the past.

Which he's done more times than he can count.

Because as much as he loves Shouta and is settled into the way their friendship works, Hizashi's pretty sure the idea of Shouta in love might be actual nightmare fuel for him.

But Emi, sweet loud Emi, doesn't know how to take good advice when it's been served to her from multiple directions and seems set and determined to harass Shouta at every given opportunity.

One of these days she's going to end up getting exactly what she wants, Shouta's full and undivided attention.

And Hizashi is 10000% sure it's not going to go the way she wants it to. Not by a long shot.

Because if Shouta was going to fixate on her he would have done it by now.

So, with all of that taken into account, Hizashi thinks he can be excused by the way he feels ice trace down his spine the day that Shouta walks into the staff room with an actual smile on his face.

"H-Hey Sho," Hizashi greets, taking a moment to clear his throat to try and erase the unease he knows Shouta will have already picked up on. "Having a good morning?"

"Help me find a new apartment," Shouta basically orders him out of nowhere, like he's not asking Hizashi to do the one thing they've all been trying to do for the better part of a decade now.

"Why the sudden change of mind?" Hizashi can't help but ask, already reaching for his phone with the intent of alerting the group chat Shouta's not a part of. "Finally tired of that dump?"

"No," Shouta tells him blandly, "it's just not suited for two. I'm going to need at least another room for Izuku's home office."

Hizashi abruptly freezes.

"I-Izuku?" Hizashi stutters the unfamiliar name out, eyes wide behind his shades and breath frozen in his lungs.

Because they don't know an Izuku. Hizashi knows they don't. It's not a name he recognizes which means Shouta has met someone new.

Someone new that Shouta is willing to not only make changes for but to share space with as well.

Hizashi, who had once watched Shouta calmly dislocate someone's shoulder just for crowding him at a bar, finds himself speechless at the very idea.

"We're in a relationship," Shouta tells him nonchalantly. "His apartment is a dump and mine's too small. This is the logical choice."

Hizashi practically rips his phone out of this pants pockets and frantically thumbs open the chat. There's no way in any of the hells is he having this, more than likely, nightmare of a conversation without all the backup he can muster.

~~~

Shouta has always known that he's ,,, off somehow.

At least by other people's standards that is.

His parents had let onto that fact when he was young.

He'd been an odd kid, stoic by nature with a quirk that alienated him from basically everyone above, below, and actually in his age group.

But that had never been the real problem.

No, the real issues had always been Shouta's temper and his tendency to fixate.

He didn't like being bothered, didn't like other kids, didn't like anything he considered his to be touched by anyone else. And, to make matters worse, no matter how many conversations or detentions it earned him Shouta also had no compunctions about lashing out whenever anyone crossed one of his boundaries.

By the time he was nine years old Shouta had been aware of the fact that his parents were uncomfortable around him.

His mother had caught him with the cat he'd smuggled into his bedroom and once she'd seen that he was feeding and caring for it just like the internet told him to she had broken down crying.

Shouta hadn't understood why until much later.

He'd overheard her whispering frantically to his father about how she's been sure he couldn't be trusted around anything as fragile and helpless as an actual kitten. Had heard the way they mumbled about warning signs and red flags.

Not all of it had made sense but Shouta had slinked back to his room and his new cat with the soul-deep understanding that both of his parents were afraid of him.

That cat had gone with Shouta everywhere after that right up until one of the upperclassmen from school had thought it would be an easy target when he'd caught Shouta out and about by himself.

The vet visit had been tense.

Shouta's retaliation had been brutal.

in the end, Shouta had been forced to move schools afterward despite the lack of evidence needed to put black marks on his file but his cat had eventually been fine and the upperclassman was slated to regain full use of his hand in the next few months if the proper quirks were applied.

So lesson learned and no real harm done in Shouta's opinion.

By the time Shouta had settled on heroics as his chosen life path both of his parents had been in tears, relief practically rolling off of them in waves.

When he'd gotten his enrollment to UA settled they'd pressed a shiny new apartment key into one of his hands, a bundle of banking details into the other, and quietly asked him to never contact them again.

Shouta hadn't bothered to argue.

He'd simply packed his few things, gathered the multiple bags of cat supplies, hooked Gutter to her leash and walked out.

Settling into UA had taken time, clawing his way into the heroics course had taken longer, but Shouta had done it.

And then he'd found his life infected with people.

Shouta had never cared much for people on a personal level.

They were loud, messy, and generally not worth his attention as a rule.

But Hizashi and the other idiots had eventually worn him down and they had rather firmly become his.

His to keep and watch over and protect in a way that no one else in his life every has been before.

Losing Oboro had been like having a piece of himself ripped away and all of the careful masks and lessons Nedzu had given him had been set to come tumbling down.

It had taken years to undo some of that damage and even now Oboro's loss still presses on Shouta just like it does the others.

Shouta had never imagined finding someone new he'd feel that kind of possession over. And the very idea of finding anyone he'd want romantically as well had always seemed ridiculous.

Sex wasn't a mystery to Shouta of course. He'd done his share of experimenting though it had been more clinical than Hizashi's wild abandon, Tensei's hidden romanticism, or Nemuri's everything. It had, in Shouta's opinion, only been logical to explore and discover his own wants/needs/desires.

Still there had always been something missing, no one he'd ever been with lasting for more than a single encounter for one reason or another.

So running into someone who made every single part of Shouta perk up all at once had come as quite a shock.

it had been pure chance (fate some darkly giddy part of Shouta almost seems to purr) that they'd met.

Shouta had turned a corner at just the right time and his new obsession had walked right into his arms in a flurry of spilled coffee and flying papers.

Normally Shouta would have already been tamping down some degree of rage but this time ,,,

This time he'd looked down into wide green eyes shinning up at him from behind thick black glasses and he'd been gone.

"Oh gods," Shouta's future husband had said, voice sweet and soft with red already flushing his cheeks, "I am so sorry, Eraserhead."

Shouta had gone still.

"You know me?" He hadn't been able to help asking. He was Underground for a reason and there were plenty of other pro heroes and police who couldn't recognize him on sight unless they'd worked together previously.

And Shouta knows he's never worked with whoever this is.

He would have remembered.

"Y-Yeah," the slightly stuttered answer had been beyond charming and Shouta was already imagining a thousand and one ways he could hear that stutter again in more private settings. "Y-You're my favorite hero."

See, that dark voice had whispered in Shouta's ear again, he's already yours.

"Hmm," Shouta had hummed, all of Nedzu's training scurrying to the forefront of his mind. Careful, careful, his old sensei's voice hums in his ear, you don't want to startle your prey. "Not many people know Underground heroes, especially not me."

"I-I," that stutter had been back along with a fresh wave of red across those cheeks, "I'm a-an analyst so I-I read a lot of your case files."

Shouta had been sure that, given the way those green eyes had darted away from him for a split second, that wasn't the full story.

Not that it really mattered.

Shouta would know everything he needed to know soon.

One way or another.

"What's your name?" Shouta had asked, kneeling down abruptly to help gather up the files spread around them.

"A-Ah, Midoriya," he'd answered with an awkward half-bow from where he was kneeling in front of Shouta, "Midoriya I-Izuku."

Izuku, Shouta had turned the name over in his head absently, more than a bit enchanted with the sight of Izuku on his knees. Aizawa Izuku.

It sounded right.

"Aizawa Shouta," Shouta had offered easily, something like a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. "You can call me Shouta."

The flush that had deepened across Izuku's face had looked delicious. It had taken all of Shouta's self-control not to lean forward and take a bite.

Soon though, he reassured himself, that would come soon enough.

Izuku's light yelp and frantic scrambling had drawn him back to the present then.

"I'm so sorry but I have to go!" Izuku had scooped the rest of his files up rapidly and scrambled to his feet. "I'll be fired if I'm late again."

Shouta's eyes had abruptly narrowed.

"I'll walk you," he'd offered. "They won't reprimand you if I take responsibility."

Shouta would make sure of it.

"I don't want to cause trouble," Izuku had protested.

"No trouble," Shouta had reassured him, already stepping up to Izuku's side.

The walk to the police station was pleasant, even with the way that Izuku was so obviously stumbling over his nerves the entire time and chattering rapidly to fill the silence.

Shouta found it charming.

He couldn't wait to hear it over breakfast or before bed.

They'd parted ways at the front desk, Shouta aware of all the surprised eyes trained on him as Izuku waved, bowed again, and then took off down the dark hallways that lead to the analysis and records departments, both places that Shouta rarely had cause to venture down to.

That had, of course, just rather abruptly changed.

Once Izuku had finally left his sight Shouta had turned towards the officer on desk duty. The woman had paled a few shades under his gaze.

"Midoriya," Shouta had wasted no time saying, "was with me. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble for being late."

He'd turned on his heel and strode back out, mind already clicking through plans, without bothering to wait for a reply.

He had a few things he needed to take care of before he could bring Izuku into his rightful place in Shouta's life.

First off is getting a better apartment than the one-room closet he's lived in since high school.

Hizashi and his other idiots would probably be delighted to help him find a nicer place. He's pretty sure that group chat he's not supposed to know about will be blowing up soon enough.

Either way he'll be able to get on with doing more important things all the sooner if they help him.

Like finding out any and everything he can about Izuku.

[idy-ll-ique]

All Mine.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (damn)

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy Barber has been through a lot. After getting a divorce from his ex-wife, he moves into the house next to the Y/L/Ns. And he has his eyes on Y/N since day one. Little does he know, Y/N likes him too and things get interesting one night.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Before you ask, no, I haven't watched Defending Jacob yet because I do not have the attention span to watch an entire series. So yeah, this has no spoilers. Also, I'm asexual so don't @ me for the smut please and thank you. Enjoy!

---

"Good morning, Mr Barber!"

He looked up from his phone and saw his neighbor smiling at him. He grinned back at her, his mood immediately lightening. "Hi, Y/N! How many times have I told you, call me Andy," he chided gently, keeping his phone away. "Okay, okay, just feels a little weird, ya know? Anyway, what are you doing here? You almost never take the bus," Y/N chuckled.

He flashed her another grin, his boyish side automatically coming out. It always happened when she was near. Y/N Y/L/N was Andy Barber's cute neighbor, but the only thing is, she was way, way younger than he was, her parents were just a couple of years older than him. Despite the huge age-gap, Y/N had won his heart. And he didn't mind in the slightest.

"My car broke down yesterday, it's at the auto repair shop. I got no other vehicle," he shrugged. Y/N nodded just as she saw her bus approaching. "Are you getting on this one?" she asked him and he squinted. "Nah, not this one. Are you?" She verbally confirmed a yes and turned to look at him fully. "I'll see you later, Mr Barber, bye!" With that, she waved at him and stepped into the bus.

"Andy!" he mouthed when she sat near the window seat, giggling. "Andy," she repeated, winking at him just as the bus turned around the corner. A laugh involuntarily escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, what am I gonna do with you, angel? Inside the bus, Y/N had to keep herself from fidgeting, too overstimulated after her conversation with the handsome lawyer.

She had had a crush on him ever since he had moved in next-door. Her parents had immediately invited the lone man to dinner and he had, thankfully, accepted. They had a lot of fun; Andy was a proper gentleman, well-spoken, intelligent and extremely handsome. Y/N got a crush on him on the first day itself. She knew about the things his family had been through, and the thought crushed her.

Can't even imagine, your own child, guilty of murder?

Andy and his ex-wife, Laurie had divorced immediately after their son's trial. It was all months ago, though, Andy was doing much better now. He had Y/N, after all. In his thoughts only, but that would suffice. Because he knew, she'd never fall for him. Why would she? He was much older than her, a divorced man, with a son who got convicted for murder.

But Y/N didn't care about any of those things. She liked the Andy who was her awesome, good looking and smart neighbor. That's all that mattered to her. But then came another problem, Y/N's parents. Would they be okay with her going out with him? Of course not! Y/N sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus; oh God, what ever was she gonna do?

Andy had ruined all men for her.

---

"Come in!"

Looking up, a surprised gasp left the mouths of both; the person inside the office and the person at the door. "Y/N?" Andy blurted out. "Mr Barber?" Y/N blinked as well. "Andy," he corrected incessantly and she waved her arm in dismissal. "Wow, I, uh… I didn't realize— you don't have a name plate outside—" He motioned to the chair in front of him and she sat.

"What happened, darling?"

Y/N unconsciously shivered at the nickname. She loved it when he called her that. "I don't know, my colleague sent me here, she was busy… gave me the address and said there was a file she needed…" Y/N spoke unsurely. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his figure; he had taken off the trenchcoat he was wearing in the morning, leaving him in a tight, white shirt, black trousers and a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Y/N concluded that he looked insanely gorgeous. "Does your colleague happen to be Mrs Renoir? She told me she was coming to get the file." She smiled and nodded at him. "Yes, Mrs Renoir, that's her." Andy smiled back and took out a file from his drawer. "Here you go."

She accepted the file, stowing it away in her bag. "I'll see you!" She moved to get up but Andy tutted, checking his watch. "Why don't you stay, Y/N? It's getting late, we can go home together," he spoke, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. She froze for a moment. "Um, it's fine, I can—" He was shaking his head. "Y/N, if something happens to you, I'll not be able to forgive myself."

What's going on? "Mr Barber—" "Andy." "What do you mean?" He got up from his chair and moved to the couch that was in the room. She sat next to him. "You never stay out this late, Y/N, your parents told me you're usually at home by 8:30. It's almost midnight, and I can't let you venture into the city all alone at this hour. Do you know the dangers that lurk at night?"

Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest. Indeed, this was new to her; and before even meeting with him, she had been scared of roaming the city alone at night. "I don't," she muttered truthfully, looking up when Andy placed his hand on her thigh. "It's okay. You can stay, I just need to go over a few more things and then we can go home, hm?" Y/N grinned and nodded.

Andy lifted his hand off her thigh and went back to his desk. He began scribbling something on a paper, which Y/N realized was a form. After admiring him for a few minutes, she took out her phone and scrolled through her messages. She had already texted her mom about staying out late, and her mother had complained until Y/N told her she was out for business, not fun.

As time passed, Y/N's shoulders sagged. Her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. "Andy," she whined in a sleepy stupor and his head shot up, "Are you done? I wanna go home!" His dark eyes softened instantly and he chuckled. She looked cute when she was sleepy. "Just a moment, darling, I'm almost finished." Y/N simply groaned and threw her head back against the couch.

"All done."

Y/N opened her eyes and saw Andy fixing his appearance, before shrugging on the coat. Then he turned to her, offering her his hand with a smile. She took it and heaved herself up, stumbling a little but Andy was there to hold her up. Effortlessly wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her out of his office, switching off the lights and locking the door.

Both of them walked out of the building and Andy got Y/N seated in the passenger seat of his car. "I thought your car was at the auto repair shop?" Y/N remembered. She felt his chuckle next to her ear as he reached over and fastened her seatbelt and then his own. "Went to get it in the afternoon because I realized buses aren't for me." She giggled and leaned back against the seat.

"Why don't you try and fall asleep? I'll wake you up," he whispered, his heart swelling in his chest when she nodded meekly. "Goodnight, Mr Barber." He still corrected her, "Andy." Truth be told, Y/N didn't want to call him Andy because that would only make her feelings worse. If she called him Mr Barber… that was a constant reminder that he was a man much older, a successful lawyer, and just her neighbor.

Nothing else.

"Such a sweet doll." Ever since he heard her whining his name in his office, his mind had clouded over with lust. She sounded so fucking beautiful when she said his name. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to claim her on his couch. He had controlled himself easily, he knew he had to wait till he had her consent. Which he thought he'd probably never get.

---

"Thank you so much, Andy!"

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N is great company and I admit, the house does get a little lonely at times," Andy chuckled as Y/N's mother beamed at him. Y/N was looking down at her feet, clutching the handles of her travel bags. She was going to move in with Andy for a few weeks, since her room was getting renovated. There was no other place in the house.

When Andy heard that, he had instantly offered that she move in with him for the time-being. And Y/N's parents were, surprisingly, ecstatic at the idea. "She can move into the guest bedroom," he had spoken at the time. That's how she ended up here; now following Andy into his house as she yelled her goodbyes to her parents. "Welcome! It isn't much, I hope you like it still."

Y/N looked around in awe. The place was well-kept, the colour theme for almost everything was either beige or brown. It all looked very modern and cool. "Are you kidding? This is awesome!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Let me show you to your room." Both of them walked up the stairs and stopped at the first door. Andy opened the door and another gasp left her lips.

"Wow," she whispered automatically and Andy smiled to himself. "I take it that you like it," he drawled, closing the door behind them as they walked into the room. Y/N kept her luggage on the bed and sat down, swinging her legs. "Thanks for all this, Mr Barber, it's appreciated." He scoffed. "Andy," he rectified, "And it was not a problem at all, Y/N, you're my friend."

A chill ran down her spine. His friend? He considered her to be a friend? "A friend, huh, I'm… I'm honored," she chuckled and he grinned. "I'll leave you be now, get comfortable." He waved at her and left the room, going downstairs to get a glass of water for himself. Y/N spent the rest of the day at her place, only returning at nighttime after dinner.

That's how it went for a week. She'd be at her job most days, would have dinner with her parents at night and then would finally walk into Andy's house to get some sleep. She liked the routine, and so did he. When she wasn't at her job, she'd spend the day in the living room of her own, or rather, her parents' house. Only, something changed a week later.

Andy was running late that day. As he drove home, at nearly 1:30 am, he was sure that he was going to be greeted by a quiet and empty house, Y/N already asleep in her room. She always fell asleep before 11:30, he didn't know how she did it. After parking his car in his garage, he walked into the sitting room only to see Y/N sitting in front of the television. She looked up and swtiched it off when he walked in.

"Mr Barber, hi." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Darling, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, sitting next to her. The dried tear stains on her cheeks made it clear that she had been crying. "I'm fine," she insisted, in vain. Andy gently cupped her cheeks, running his fingers over the stains. "You've been crying, honey, tell me what happened. I'll make it better," he whispered and Y/N melted against him.

"Um, can I… can I please… can I hug you?"

Without another word, Andy pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around her middle. She snuggled into his side. "I just had a bad dream," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest. His arm rose and he delicately cradled her head, massaging her hair with his fingers. Y/N whimpered at the soothing sensation and Andy's heart raced.

"I'm here now, sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I'll protect you, come what may," he uttered softly, almost in a daze. Something inside Y/N stirred deeply when he said those words. She pulled away slightly and he looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. Y/N blushed under his intense stare. "I, um… can I… kiss you?" Her question made Andy's heart beat faster.

Consent? Check.

Gently grabbing her jaw, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into his lap. Y/N kissed back just as fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Andy asked huskily upon pulling away. "How long?" Y/N squeaked. "Ever since I first saw you. You won my heart right there, Y/N, right at that dinner. The moment I saw you, I knew that you had ruined all women for me."

"Same. I mean, I— not women, obviously, I'm not attracted to other women— men, but—" Andy chuckled and kissed her again, cutting off her rambling. "God, I need to feel you, love, why don't we go upstairs?" It turned out to be a rhetorical question as he immediately stood up, easily carrying Y/N up the stairs. Y/N wrapped her legs around his torso.

He placed her down on his bed, in his bedroom and settled between her legs, hungrily kissing down her body. He used his tongue to stimulate her first, pulling orgasm after orgasm after her. She had never had these many orgasms in one night and that wasn't lost on Andy. "No one has ever made you feel this good, right, darling? Only I can do it this good." Y/N whined loudly when his tongue circled her bud.

"Bet those nasty boys your age have never made you feel this way. Worshipped. You're mine, Y/N, only mine. Say it." Y/N was too overwhelmed to respond, only a pathetic "yours" leaving her lips as she came again. For the… third? No, fourth time? She definitely lost count. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Andy moaned as he emerged from between her thighs, his jaw and chin covered in her juices.

He had eaten her out so well, like her a hungry man offered a meal after a long starvation. Like she was his last meal. Y/N blushed at the sight of him, covering her face with her hands. Andy easily shoved the hands aside, leaning in to kiss her. "All mine. Beautiful. Mine, only mine," he grunted possessively and Y/N gasped when she felt something poking her thigh. She looked down and saw him. He was giant.

"It's too big," she blurted out and Andy chuckled, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You'll be okay." Grabbing the base of his shaft, he slowly pushed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N winced at the burn on her hips but when he bottomed out inside her, all the pain was replaced by pleasure. "Fuck, so fucking tight," Andy helplessly groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Please, please move." Andy complied, thrusting into her at a slow pace at first but when he was certain she was able to handle it, he sped up. Y/N moaned right into his ear as he nibbled on her neck, leaving behind dark, red marks. Now everyone will know she's taken. The moan fueled his libido and he sped up more, growling deep in his chest.

Y/N's eyes flew open at the animalistic sound and she gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she moved like a rag doll against him and his powerful thrusts. "Scream my name, darling, tell everyone who's making you feel so good. Tell everyone you belong to me and me only. You're mine, all mine. I'm never letting you go," he snarled as he neared his release. "Andy," Y/N screamed shamelessly.

"That's it, doll. Months, for months I've tried to get you to say my name. Is that why you've been avoiding it? Can't help but imagine being under me and moaning my name every time you heard it?" he groaned brusquely and Y/N jerked, her orgasm hitting her unexpectedly. "Yes," she whimpered at his previous comment but Andy couldn't speak. Holy shit, she just squirted all over my bed.

His taut abdomen, his shaft, his thighs and his bed were all drenched. Y/N was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, convulsing as she reeled in from the first-time experience. "Shit, baby, do you see this? You just squirted all over me," Andy laughed breathlessly, leaning over to press his lips to hers. Y/N cocked an eye open as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"I what?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

Andy entered her core with one swift motion, shutting her up. "That was fucking hot, doll, do it again," he urged and resumed his fast pace. Y/N cried out tiredly, her eyes landing on the clock in the corner of the room. It's been an hour?! How much energy does this man have? "Andy, I'm—" He was already close to his release and when she took his name, he was done. He pulled out of her and spilled his seed all over her chest and face, groaning loudly.

Then he spit on his fingers and brought them to her bud, furiously rubbing until she squirted again, right on his face. "Oh my God," Andy groaned, licking up and swallowing all her juices. "Andy, I'm tired…" She couldn't even lift a finger, that's how spent she was.

Andy was a sight. All wet, from top to bottom, covered in her juices, he looked like he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. "Okay, baby girl, get some sleep. I'll take care of you." And he did, he gently cleaned her up as she dozed off, and carried her to her room. He then hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself up, put on some boxers and went to Y/N's room as well.

The bed in his room was… well, let's just say it was done for. He was going to be throwing the mattress out the next day, he knew that. When he walked into her room, his heart melted at the sight of her deep asleep, still naked, curled up on her side. He shut the door behind him and walked towards the bed, easily sliding in next to her. He pulled the covers on top of them and pulled Y/N into his arms, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, angel. So sweet, only mine."

---

A/N: This is the first time I've posted smut and a non-marvel fic 😳 I know it's probably not that good but thanks for reading anyway! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

[bangtanpromptsfics]

hyacinth. (m)

dialogue prompt #3: “Your tutor is so hot”

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: f2l(?), light smut

word count: 1,540

warnings: heavy making out, grinding, blonde!jk

summary: you think your new tutor at school is hot and jungkook is determined to change that

a/n: another mature oneshot. I basically die from embarrassment while writing smut lol.

masterlist

“Your tutor is so hot”. Jungkook turns around to your attention so fast he could probably snap his neck.

“Mr. Seokjin? ”, he knows who you are talking about. The new personality development tutor of your school, more like the entire population’s crush at this point. And Jungkook hated him just for the same reasons, it seems petty but he can't help himself.

“Go fuck him then”, he snorts, swinging his back pack from one shoulder to another while you grin. Almost as on queue, Seokjin appears on the hallways and passes a smile towards all the students.

“Oh yes. Look at that a--”

“I guess that's enough for today, come on we gonna get late”, he grabs your arms and pushes you forward to move, having enough of your daily ranting about angelic beauty and who the hell laughs at some dad joke?

“When were you ever interested in math Kook?”, you tease him, resisting him to walk slower, “Oh are you perhaps… jealous!? ”

“I'm not jealous. You are annoying”, he shoots cold face.

“Hey! I'm just saying he's attractive you don't have to be so mean about it”, you whine, hitting his arm.

You see, the fact that Seokjin stole Jungkook’s high school heartthrob position in two days is one thing, but he never expected you to act the same, especially when you were so different from most students on the campus. In fact he is shocked to see you crushing on someone. You despised people in general and he kept wondering what's there in their teacher to be so lurk about because he honestly doesn't see anything.

“He's old. And everyone knows he has a girlfriend, you guys dumb or what? ”, Jungkook teases back.

“Doesn't mean I can't praise a beautiful human”

“So he's the only attractive guy in the school? ”, he's curious now and also lowkey wants to find out if you had felt anything like this about himself.

Jungkook knew he was hot. He knew he could destroy Seokjin's reputation with one different hair color but that's too much drama over nothing. As if there isn't ten assignment waiting for him at home. Yeah he got better things to do.

“Nope”, comes your immediate answer. And man that hurt. You are smart and cocky and it would be cool to know someone like you finds him attractive, but you just hurt his ego.

“Not even me? ”, he asks, all squeaky and with a small pout and you return him a smile.

“See you at 7 Kook”

____

School ends at 5, and thankfully both of your residence are nearby and there's a party hosted by Jimin at his house which is a five minute drive so Jungkook has roughly one hour and fourty five minutes to make an appearance to the party. And by appearance he means to look absolutely endearing. He's never the type to bang a lot of chicks, he didn't even need to do anything than to wear a black tee and jeans to a party and could still get laid. If he wanted sex, he can have that any time he wants.

But today is different.

He's never been this eager to be at a gathering, took time to pick outfits and oh dye his hair. He has never experimented with hair colors except that one time he tried red and got famous by the name ‘cherry head’ in the entire locality.

You of course give yourself the usual thirty minutes to do slight makeup and wear shorts with oversized tee styled enough to merge into the party. And boy you have no idea what you are going to witness today.

Jungkook arrives ten minutes late because the highlights took time to dry off. He styles them, but not too much. He still wanted to look effortlessly handsome and got that long abandoned shear black shirt with blue jeans.

“Woah is that Jungkook!?”, some girls whisper beside the bar you are currently seated at and you turn around, only to feel a pang to your chest. Fuck. A completely look through shirt with fucking tight blue denim is he fucking kidding? And blonde hair? Yeah it's that complete ‘drool over me bitches’ package.

You suddenly feel self aware of how simple you looked. He should have given a heads up because one needs several business days to process blonde Jungkook. He seemed unrecognizable.

“Woah… What's up with this new look!?”, you approach finally. Many people eye him shamelessly in your peripheral vision which is pretty much obvious.

“Nothing. Just felt like it”, he grins, having won you. Jungkook is not attractive who? Yeah he bets Seokjin will never pull off this look.

“You like it? ”, and he undoes first two buttons, exposing a bit of his toning straight to your eyes. Is he fucking teasing? You want to confront him because he's acting weird. But you don't know if this is because you feel different around him.

“Y-yeah… It's good”, you tug a smile.

“Wanna dance?”, he asks and you nod, taking your hand to the dance floor. Most people are wasted but both of you are not. So when you feel him touching more than usual, you are absolutely aware that it's not an accident.

He holds you so close all the time, as if it's something you do daily. Fuck.

“Hold me like this”, he says out of nowhere and throws your hand behind his neck. He knows what he's doing. And you are aware too, but too weak in knees to retract. You hate that you are actually enjoying this and he loved it.

“Y/n….”, he whispers to your ear, tucking a strand of your hair behind it, “Can I kiss you love? ”

Your nod is so soft and innocent before you give in. Most people who were looking forward for Jungkook’s company give up and hook up with other guys around because they know he isn't here for anybody else.

He flushes your hips against his as he kisses you, obviously tongue all the way. He doesn't know why but he wanted to shut your mouth exactly like this whenever you swooned over Seokjin. And he is most certain that all those memories are perished along with the kiss.

He pulls your bottom lip out and looks into your eyes and grinds his hip on yours, and you moan lowly. He internally curses at how sweet you sounded.

“Come with me”. He pulls you out of the crowd and into a private cubicle where people usually make out. And thankfully there was one vacant.

But he isn't quick to act once inside the space. He takes his time to lock the door and to sit at that one chair in the centre, manspreading luxuriously for you to see.

You never did anything like this with Jungkook. It was not like you had friend zoned him, you actually don't know why, all these years you spent casually flirting and shrugging off with each other, and now you can't wait to devour him.

You make your way to his lap and sit right on his hips, sighing at the contact. He grabs the back of your head and pushes it towards him. His other hand taps your butt to continue grinding which you happily do so.

He continues exploring your skin, hooking his hands on your shirt and rubbing circles at the skin there. Feeling his cold hands, you move to undo two more of his buttons to get a peak of his pecs, something you wanted to do the moment you saw him.

He moans into your mouth when your movements start to get him worked up, feeling high and ecstatic. Even with the denim shorts on, the dent on his pants was enough to get you close to orgasm.

“J-Jungkook… ”, you trail off, head slightly falling back which he catches.

“Go on love, almost there”. Fuck. You loved it when he called you names, but this one was, exceptionally very much turning you on.

He detaches his mouth to suckle on your collar bone, exposing it by pulling your t shirt slightly down. It becomes all too much, and you focus on the knot forming at your stomach.

Jungkook stops kissing you, indicating he's chasing his high several moments after yours, glad that both opted for thick denims as bottoms to cover the mess you made.

“We should've done this way before”, you imply, separating the strands of his hair sticking to his forehead.

“We could've, but you were busy drooling over some teacher”, he smugs.

“So you were jealous! ”.

Unfortunately his cocky being doesn't have an answer for that so he dodges it with another long kiss, breaking off with a loud smooch.

“God I can kiss you forever Y/n…”

“And...then? ”, you ask your confusion. You don't know what's your relationship with Jungkook is anymore, now that you had made out with him.

“... then… maybe you'll fall in love with me?”

“See you at the party Kook”, you peck the corner of his lips and get off his lap. After taking a moment to fix your outfit, you leave the cubicle.

And Jungkook knew exactly what he was going to do.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptfics

[ghcstvalleychief]

I love your account one of the very few ones that has no filter and is direct. I have seen so many accounts be like they don’t owe you anything “BOC & MA don’t owe us anything”….😒. Or others like “do you guys want them to finish filming the movie or not?” As if they didn’t go for a vacation for a whole week lol

Someone made a post bc they didn’t agree with another account(that said that this whole mess could have been avoided if BOC was better at communicating) ….? Like …?

I’ve always said it if you don’t agree move on make your post individually and block the person. The way they act like self righteous ppl defending that company and their mess. The internet is free and you can give opinions on everything and anything but tagging a post and acting like you are a much better for supporting Boc yeah nope….. it’s funny tho

I really do hope that MA know what they are doing, M clearly knows and is try to work around the family agenda as for A I feel like they are using his past experiences against him and believe me I’ve gone through that and it’s not good.

Im gonna stick around just bc I truly believe in MA they are such lovely ppl and amazing actors. hopefully M sees through the BS and moves and takes A with Him 😩

It's a blessing and a curse honestly. It can be a good thing and a bad thing to be so direct and blunt. Believe me, that's always been a problem for me growing up. That was always something the people around me trying to snuff out, but it didn't work.

I never understood this idea that BOC doesn't 'owe' us anything. If I'm paying for a service, I expect to get the full experience. If I'm putting money into the pockets of a man who's probably already far more wealthy than the majority of KP fans, then I absolutely expect to be impressed and catered to. They want your money. They want your support. What kind of bullshit is that? You're buying tickets to a world tour. You're buying merchandise on said world tour. You're spending your hard earned money on this entire thing. Why wouldn't you be the main priority here? If the fans stopped talking about this show, if they stopped talking about this stupid tour, how long do you think it would take for this world tour to implode? How long until the entire company falls apart as a result of lack of fan interest? The fans spread the word of everything having to do with KP and BOC. The fans are doing that. BOC wouldn't survive if the fans didn't do that. That's a fact.

To each their own, but I think that's absolutely asinine personally. I've been trying to limit my fights on the internet these days, so I've taken to blocking people. Yeah, I know some people think that's a rather extreme reaction to a minor disagreement. However, people get downright nasty sometimes. Yes, people will immediately resort to ad hominem attacks over something as simple as an opinion about something that doesn't directly affect any of us. So, I agree, anon. Block people and move on. Hell, I've even blocked BOC. I never know anything about what they post unless my mutuals start talking about it on my TL.

But yes, Mile is taking a very different approach to what's going on. It's almost like Mile understands what the fans have been saying this entire time in terms of promotion. The fans have made numerous statements about how incompetent BOC is when it comes to that, but I think Mile has actually been paying attention to the things we've been saying. I think he's probably been lurking around honestly, which is good. I know Apo is more willing to take the more neutral, diplomatic approach but that's only going to work for so long until it stops. Sometimes, you have to pick a side. Sometimes, you have to make a firm stance when it comes to most things. Again, he has every right to do what he pleases but ... Anyway, I'm in total agreement with you, anon.

You're your own biggest cheerleader. If no one else is going to promote and give you credit for your hard work, then you have to do it yourself. Toot your own horn!

[a-plethora-of-peters]

Since you asked, ZITS :D

*inhales deeply before yelling* ZITS MY BELOVED!

THESE BOYS! THESE BOYS! I LOVE THEM!

So to set the vibes for them all we have:

A Gremlin that was found eating the electricity in an iron farm by an Anthro Magma Cube hybrid on one server and said hybrid takes the Gremlin away with him

And far far away on another server, a Centaur Enderman hybrid is being bugged by an Electricity Demon to make a Contract with him

Vibes secure in your head? Good cause I'm gonna pop off about Impulse and Skizz meeting and officially becoming friends now because I have Skizz brainrot and I love he!

~0.0~

At first, Skizz thought that Demons were just myths.

Stories told to keep wandering children close to home during the day when most mobs can't venture out.

Don't wander too far or a Demon will snatch you away!

Keep close to home unless you want a Demon to eat your soul!

When he was a teen and moved out on his own, he started doubting the stories about Demons being ready to snatch him up and suck out his soul.

He probably still would've doubted their existence if it wasn't for Impulse.

Well, he didn't go by Impulse then. Skizz was the one to call him Impulse after the Demon had given him an awkward English translation of his name from Infernal.

("I'm named qui agit in instinctu-masculina praesentia-odorem ozonis et sonum longinquum tonitrui. I use he/him pronouns. I don't have any Contracts yet, but I'm definitely in the market to make one if you want." The brown haired and golden eyed being - apparently a Demon - tells him with a polite smile and a wink.

Skizz appreciates that he doesn't even try to make direct eye contact with him.

Skizz blankly stares at him for a few moments. "Can you uh... can you translate that first part into something I can understand, buddy?"

The Demon blushes - Oh! He blushes red like a human does, that's neat! - electricity sparking between his tall black and yellow striped horns. His tail curls around his leg, yellow fluff on the end sparking like sheep's wool.

"I suppose the closest I can get in English is... he who acts on instinct-a masculine presence-the scent of ozone and the distant sound of thunder. More or less." He hazards cautiously.

"Acts on instinct?" Skizz snickers. "So your name is literally that you're impulsive?"

"Wha- I-... okay that's not entirely untrue..."

"Alrighty then, Impulse!" He claps his hands before offering one to the startled Demon.

"Wait wha-?"

"You can call me Purpur, I use he/him pronouns too, and I'm not interested in getting a Contract - whatever that is - right now!")

Impulse took to his new name surprisingly fast and lurked around Skizz's home for a number of months afterwards.

Skizz would leave to go mining for the day and Impulse would be leaning on his mailbox with a friendly smile and offer him something in exchange for a Contract.

("What if I made you look like a Passing Hybrid? I can do that, you know. Make you look more human so you don't stand out so much?"

"Nice try. I'm pret-ty good with how I look thank you very much."

"Oh well, worth a shot right?"

"Yeah that was a good try!"

"Hey! Leave my hair alone!")

Skizz would come home from grocery shopping and Impulse would be perched on his fence, munching on an apple before making Skizz a different offer.

("Okay, I think I got something for sure that you'll be interested in!"

"Is that so, 'pulse?"

"Oh yeah! You get to keep your Centaur form, but! But! I give you two complete enderpearls in your body rather than just the halves that you have! Huh? Huh!? How's that sound?"

"Mmmm tempting but no thanks. I don't mind being unable to teleport as frequently as other Enderman hybrids."

"Oh you're no fun!"

"I mean if you want fun, you can always go to like Hipixel or a server like that?"

"What is with you and your addiction to messing up my hair?!")

Skizz got used to the offers, got used to Impulse hanging around his place whenever he left to do things, got used to messing with Impulse's hair everytime an offer fell flat.

Then one day he came outside (he had to thin his carrot bed out, so that they could grow properly) and Impulse was sitting on the edge of Skizz's porch looking... not quite sad or upset, a bit melancholy perhaps?

"Hey buddy. Something the matter?" Skizz asks, kneeling next to him.

A stifled curse in Infernal comes from Impulse as he jumps before he looks up at Skizz and plasters on a stiff smile. "Hey Purps! I got a new offer today! It's-"

"Lemme stop you there, Impulse."

Something seems to crack, his smile falling and becoming resigned.

"Oh... so is this it?"

"Huh? Is this what?" Skizz looks at him confused.

Impulse shrugs and looks at his clawed hands in his lap. He speaks softly as if he's scared that Skizz is going to yell at him.

"Where you get fed up with me and tell me to leave because you're tired of me trying to make a Contract with you?"

Skizz frowns. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

"I just figured..." Impulse shrugs. "It's been... almost 2 years now? And I've offered you so many things and you always turn me down-."

"Cause you always talk about making a Contract with me-"

"Cause I need to make a Contract!" Impulse bursts out loudly. He flushes and says quieter. "Cause without a Contract, no one will want me."

"Hey that's not true!" Skizz frowns. "We don't have a Contract and I still want you to stick around!"

Impulse freezes and looks at Skizz's collarbone to avoid looking in his eyes.

"You don't... You don't mean that... do you?"

Skizz huffs and takes Impulse's face in his hands and tilts his face up towards his own. He croons softly - sad-dont fear-friend - when Impulse immediately closes his eyes. He gently rubs under his eyes with his thumbs.

"I like our exchanges. If I didn't I would have said so sooner." Skizz gently says. "Not to mention... well open your eyes. Please?"

Impulse is trembling in Skizz's hands but he opens his eyes.

Glowing gold meets blue that is verging on purple.

There's no burning urge to fight, to destroy whoever meets his gaze.

He smiles and says "You're Haunting now. You're not gonna be alone, not while I'm around."

Impulse swallows and nods, tearing up. He really starts crying when Skizz leans in to rest their foreheads together and whispers. "Most people call me Purpur but my name is Skizz."

They didn't move from the porch for a while after that. When they did though? It was so that Skizz could invite Impulse into his home for the first time since they met.

[elladories]

hq boys reacting to you listening to a sad song

warnings: its a little bit sad,,, but its mostly just fluff!!

characters: suna, nishinoya, atsumu, kita

a/n: hehewieweoweoweiow,, im writing again hi!!

requests status: open <3

<3 suna:

- he's lounging on the couch waiting for you to complete your homework before he can have your undivided attention!!

- he understands that your studies are very important so he doesn't mind it (good boyfie) -he's lurking around spotify and spots u listening to a song

- at first he's like "oh ok cool lol this song kinda slaps!!!!"

- doesn't even realize its a sad song until its nearly over LMFAO

- eyebrow furrows and he's making his way over to where ur studying just to check up on u!! he didn't really know what to expect

- he doesn't think of the song as much but more so just wants to look out for u <3 awe

- your nose is in your book and you're reading a chapter for ur most recent lesson

- "hey babe?" lanky suna approaches u

- ur head shoots up and suna's standing at the door way with his arms crossed (sweats nervously)

- "yes rin,,?" u ask and ur busy putting your bookmark in the book

- "are u okay?" he has a blunt approach that has u confused and u awkwardly laugh at him

- "of course, why?"

- he's relieved in some sense but is kinda concerned for u HAHA

- "alright,, just checking up on u. are u almost done?"

- if u say no he'll throw yu over his shoulder and demand his cuddles

- and if u say yes he's still gonna throw u over his shoulder and demand his cuddles

- win win situation!!! rip ur studies lmao

<3 nishinoya:

- it's been a hard day and u have been out running errands the entire evening!!

- u plan on taking a shower and then making a snack and then maybe a nap

- u plug your music into a speaker and get undressed for your shower

- the playlist is randomized and ends up playing some sad songs by some weird chance,,,

- nishinoya comes home from practice and is excited to see u but his entire mood deflates when he hears an extremely sad song blast from the bathroom

- his entire face goes white and he immediately starts imagining the worst scenario possible

- drops all his bags at the door and starts sprinting to where u were and forces the bathroom door open

- "y/n?!"

- "oh hi noya-!" u didn't expect him to just rush into the bathroom like that but thank goodness you're already in the shower

- "are you okay?!" he becomes a little more relieved when he sees ur messy clump of clothes on the floor and when u explain the situation he's relieved

- afterward nishinoya wants to bonk ur head but it wasn't ur fault but really he's just glad he got home and nothing bad could've happened to u <3

<3 atsumu:

- on the way home from practice atsumu walks u home everyday <3 he wants to make sure his precious s/o gets there safely!!!

- "tsumu! do you want to listen to this song with me?" u ask him one day and he generally takes the other side of the headphone

- he expects something fresh or pop but instead the song starts with slow piano chords,, he crooks his head at the sound but nods a long and waits for something to happen with the tune

- "i didn't know u were into music like this, angel"

- "oh- i'm not usually! i just really like this song, tsumu!"

- PLS his heart fluttering rn in his chest because of the nickname

- after the song ends u wait for him to give his opinion on the song but instead he's leaning down to ur level and brushing ur hair out of your face

- UR STARTLED BY THE INTIMACY

- "tsumu,, whats wrong?" u ask him, gasping when u feel his hand caress your cheek

- atsumu on the other hand is a bit worried for u,, a sad song like the one he just listened to was something he didn't expect u to like...

- "are you sure u just like the song, angel? did ya boyfriend do something wrong?" atsumu pouts but then he immediately stops when u throw your arms around him

- "you didn't tsumu,, i just liked the song!!"

- he's relieved and probably forgets about it later but he totally puts it in his playlist for u <3

<3 kita:

- u and kita are preparing dinner together and u have ur music on the speaker

- kita loves doing little domestic things together and he loves to spend his time with u next to him <3

- the next song that plays is a little sadder than all of the others that have played,,,

- after the sad, slow chorus of the song goes by he glimpses over to u thinking u would wear a sad expression of some sort but there is none

- he doesn't really know how to react to the situation other than to just stare at u softly,, kita would probably question what made u this sad to put a song like this in ur playlist :<<

- ur happily chopping vegetables and humming along and kita chuckles at the sight

- he wouldn't necessarily go out of his way to confront u or ask u why u were listening to a sad song, because he trusts that if anything was wrong, u would tell him <3

- puts away whatever he's doing for the moment and approaches u from behind to wrap his arms around your torso lovingly

- kita isn't really one to initiate physical touch so ur a little shocked but relax and lean against his strong chest!!!

- "something wrong, shinsuke?"

- "mm-mm.." he mumbles into ur shoulder, tightening his hold around u

- the sad song kinda just gets tossed away to the back of his head when he remembers that the love of his life would be there for him regardless ^__^

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..

She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.

Isla was cliche in that sense.

She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.

And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.

She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.

"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.

"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."

It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.

Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.

She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.

"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."

Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.

He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.

"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."

"She did?"

"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."

"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."

Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."

"And did you give it to her?"

"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."

"They know that, Ope."

"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"

Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.

What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.

She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.

Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.

None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.

Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.

There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.

They hated cops.

What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.

Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...

Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.

Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.

They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.

It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.

But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.

She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.

He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.

"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."

He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.

Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.

He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.

"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"

"Said he's proud of me."

He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.

Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.

He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.

But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.

"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"

"How'd you reach that conclusion?"

"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."

His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."

"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."

Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.

Literally.

"Is she gonna be there tonight?

"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.

"Anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."

"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"

"Isla!"

"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"

"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"

"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."

Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."

He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.

She loved him a lot.

The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.

"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"

He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.

"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"

"For what?"

"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"

"Juice?"

"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."

"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."

"And why is that?"

Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.

"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.

"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."

She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.

"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."

The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.

Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.

Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.

Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.

Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.

The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.

Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.

But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.

"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"

"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."

Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.

At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.

And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.

But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.

The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.

"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."

"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.

She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.

What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.

And, man, did she love Alex Trager.

"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"

Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"

She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.

"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.

He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.

"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.

She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.

"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"

"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.

Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.

Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.

But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.

"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.

She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.

"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.

Christ. This is awkward.

"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."

"How so?"

"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."

"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.

Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.

"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."

"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.

"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.

She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.

It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.

They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.

Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.

The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.

To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.

And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.

"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"

"No, he can't."

"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.

He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"

"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.

But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.

How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.

Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.

"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.

She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.

"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."

"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."

"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.

She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."

"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"

"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"

Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.

"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.

She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.

"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."

Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.

It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.

But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.

"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."

"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.

Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.

"That she's lucky to be alive."

"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.

But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.

"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."

Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.

Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.

"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"

"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."

"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."

Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."

She supposed the blonde was right.

There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.

Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.

"I still hate her."

"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.

"She's checking into rehab, too."

"Really? Where?"

"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"You think she's gonna stick to it?"

"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."

"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."

"You hate her."

"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."

At least somebody is.

She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.

It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.

From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.

And that almost happened, didn't it?

The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.

But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.

Tara, however.

"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."

Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.

Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.

"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.

The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.

"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.

She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.

He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."

Makes sense.

"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."

Isla was rattled.

Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.

Again.

You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.

She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.

The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.

Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.

Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.

"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.

"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."

"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."

"Tonight? Or just in general."

"In general. It's been a few days, love."

"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."

Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.

She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.

She hated her cunt boss.

Hated her cunt clients.

She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.

Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.

Well, more than what she already was, anyway.

"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"

"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.

It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.

She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.

She'd never understand that.

And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.

The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.

It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.

"Can I come with you tonight?"

"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.

She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?

"Wanna head off now?"

"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."

"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.

Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.

Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.

And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.

They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.

Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.

"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.

"What?"

"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"

"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"

Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?

Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.

"She's--Piney, she's dead."