#baby girl x baby girl is a hard ship dynamic

[neurosiscocktail]

Everyone is always like “Ed and Izzy didn’t work out because they’re both bottoms” this and “Ed and Izzy didn’t work out because they’re both bottoms” that.

But let’s be honest here

Ed and Izzy didn’t work out because they both have a daddy kink and neither of them are daddy.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Two ships (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Two people who do not understand each other, but keep coming back together. Familiar much? It’s the tale you share with your brother, Daemon.

Warnings: Crybaby! Reader. Medieval punishment for children. Canon character death (Alyssa and Baelor) Sexual thoughts. Prostitution. Mature language. Incest. Fluff.

A/N: In which we explore the complicated dynamics of the sister wife. Requested. We also suscribe to @just-some-random-blogger doctrine about Daemon being a scary unhinged man but soft for the reader.

THE FIRST TIME your brother makes you cry is when you are eight years old. It is, of course, not the first time you tear up because of him. But there is a difference between tearing up because he tugged too hard on your braid, or because he cut your favorite doll’s hair and what he did to you that day.

You shall never forget the reason for your mother’s death, not for the rest of your life. It’s one of those core memories, a truth of the universe. You cannot forget fire burns, you cannot forget water is wet, and you cannot forget your mother is dead because of you. Even if you do not know when you learned those facts, they are still there. Tucked into your mind.

As a child, you used to be quiet. You barely cried, or demanded things of anyone. As the youngest and only girl of the household, you often felt like there was an unbreachable gap between you and your family. And so, you filled your days with your lessons, and behaved well, eager for praise and attention.

Your relationship with your brothers was complicated. Your father was often far away, busy with his important position, so Viserys felt more like a parent than a sibling. The age difference didn’t help things along. While you were still learning how to walk, his betrothal was already negotiated.

Daemon, while much closer in age, is much more distant too. He is mercurial, playing the cruelest tricks on you, but also defending you from other children. Just last week, he had dyed your beloved white dog green, but he had also punched a steward’s son for mocking your braids.

He can never decide if he hates you or loves you. And today, it’s one of the days he hates you. You can’t do anything right, it seems. As you break your fast, with Viserys cutting up your food for you, he calls you a baby. When the Septa comes to get you for your lessons, you are a suck-up. His bad mood escalates during the day, and when your father arrives for lunch and dares ruffle your hair, Daemon doesn't hesitate to call you a cocksucker whore.

For his offense, his mouth is washed with soap. It is not a punishment you have ever endured, because everyone knows ladies don’t get physical punishments, but it looks unpleasant. Whatever cocksucker whore means mustn't be very nice.

By the time his punishment is over, your father is long gone again. He has disappeared into his chambers, and Viserys has been left with the bitter task of reconciling you.

“You will apologize to our sister.” He orders Daemon. “Now.”

“NO!” Daemon shrieks, face blotchy from the humiliation of his mouth being washed with soap. He has not shed a single tear, which you find admirable despite yourself. The taste alone would make you gag, and that is without including the humiliation of a servant holding you while Viserys does the deed.

You feel awkward at the thought. Something doesn’t sit right with the thought of such a thing being a punishment, but you do not dare voice it. You simply sit in the chair Viserys has pulled for you and kick your feet. It soothes you slightly.

“Take it back, Daemon or so help me the Seven…”

“I will not take it back!” Daemon screams, pushing at Viserys. “She is a little whore! She has you all wrapped around her little finger, and now you will send me away…”

“Daemon.” Viserys grabs his wrists, in warning. With several years and a growth spurt on his side, he manages to subdue him easily. You worry that will not be the case for much longer. Daemon looks very different from your peaceful Viserys, shoulders broader, hands a bit bigger. In a few years, he will become a fearsome warrior, and Viserys will still be your bookish older brother.

“Why do I have to go squire for some stupid lord, anyway? We are the blood of the dragon! We do not need those fools.” At this new information, you frown. You clutch your doll more tightly. No one had informed you Daemon had to go squire away from Viserys and you.

“Fostering is important. It helps us form bonds with other houses.” Viserys explains, with the patience of someone who has had this argument already. You tug on your doll, feeling sadder by the minute. Everyone knew but you?

“Why don’t we send her away?” Daemon points at you, and a sudden wave of fear hits you. Viserys can’t agree with him. You cannot leave. Your panic almost makes you miss his next words. “She is the reason mother is dead. I hate her.”

And the world stops for a second. The argument goes on, Viserys screaming at Daemon, but you are still stuck there. Your ears begin to ring, so you press your hands tightly to them and shake your head.

By the Seven, Daemon is right, you realize with growing horror. Your father and Septa always told you your mother had died the way you were born, from the difficult birth. Tears begin to fall down your face, but you barely notice them. It feels like you are choking.

In your childish mind, the death of your mother in childbirth, and your birth had never been connected. You never thought it had been your fault. But Daemon was right. She was dead because she had birthed you. It was your birth that killed her.

Her death was your fault. You killed her.

No. No. It can’t be right.

“That is not true.” You turn to Viserys, uncaring they have long since moved on with the argument. He has always protected you and reassured you. Even takes care to get rid of the monsters beneath your bed every night. He will fix it. “Brother, he is lying again!”

Viserys makes a strange face. A cross between a grimace and a frown. He doesn’t refute it, nor tries to comfort you.

“It’s the truth.” Daemon smiles, with the smugness of someone who has delivered a killing blow. He advances, his eleven-year-old body seeming larger than life to you, and pokes a finger in your sternum. “You killed her.”

It feels like a rug has been pulled from under your feet. You stumble back. It’s all your fault. Your mother is dead, and your father is never home, haunted by the memory of his wife, because of you. Daemon and Viserys lost their mother, because of you.

You killed her. You killed her. You killed her. The world looks the same around you, despite the revelation, and you wonder if it is so because everyone knew but you. Is it why Daemon doesn’t love you? Why father is never around?

A sob makes its way out of your throat, and then another. And another. Soon, you are bawling like a dying animal, and feel like it too. You cry so much, your little heart feels like it will jump out of your chest and you will die. You cannot breathe, choking in your own snot and tears, and panic makes you nauseous.

Never in your life had you ever cried so. A nervous fit, the Maester will call it later, after you puke your lunch and stop making heaving noises like you are lacking air. One caused by extreme distress. Daemon will be standing guard at the foot of your bed when you come to be again. They had ended up having to give you three drops of Milk of the Poppy to calm you down.

It doesn’t happen again, and you barely remember it when you grow up. But Daemon never forgets it.

CRYING IS A weakness that cannot be tolerated. The three of you had been born dragons, but sometimes Daemon doubted Viserys and you had as much fire in your veins as he did.

Said doubt intensifies when he finds you crying in the gardens. Daemon has never been fond of crying women. He is not an empathetic man, and has a tendency to think he is surrounded by fools. Such a character trait doesn’t lend itself to soothing crying maidens. At least, not sincerely.

If he wants to bed the chit, Daemon can pretend like the best mummer. It’s not hard at all to fool highborn maidens into thinking he shares something special with them, convincing them that the pain won’t last, that it will start to feel good soon. When it comes to you, though, the problems start.

You are not a common whore, like most women at court. As a daughter of House Targaryen, you are closer to a goddess than a woman. Fooling a goddess is no easy task, much less when the goddess knows you so well.

His usual tricks do not work. When Daemon tries to apply faux pity, and forced pleasantries, you see right through him. It’s not because you are particularly cunning, but rather the fact that you have a long memory.

Long enough to remember all the pranks and fun he had had at your expense when the two of you were children. With how much Daemon tortured you, it’s no wonder you prefer Viserys.

Daemon never meant to be as nasty to you as he had been. He coveted the attention Viserys paid you, as the youngest in the family. He disliked how everyone fawned over you, how his mother had died, and his father had left, and all they had gotten in exchange was you.

Another part of Daemon simply enjoyed mischief. Causing chaos for chaos’s sake. Like any young boy, he had fun playing tricks on others. The disdain he felt for you had made you into the ideal target.

When the years began to pass, Daemon had noticed you were flourishing into a beautiful maiden. Targaryen custom dictated you were meant to be his, since you were too young to be Viserys’. There was no point in fixing your relationship, or trying to win you over like he did with the other maidens. You were a given thing. No matter your shared past, you would have to marry him.

It’s only the fact that you are embarrassing the family name that prompts him to approach you in the gardens. He has no intention of comforting you. It’s not like he cares that you are crying. Really. How ridiculous.

“What happened to you?” Daemon asks, sitting next to you. “Princess shouldn’t cry.”

It is quite recent, of course. Viserys' ascension to the throne has not actually yet occurred, but the succession issue has been settled in their favor. Daemon had gathered a small force of loyal men that hadn’t been necessary in the end, but Viserys said his first act as King would be rewarding him from his loyalty.

He knows what he will ask for already. Marriage. His grandmother had tried to marry him to a Vale woman, but the idea had ended up being discarded because Viserys’ own match ensured the allegiance of that kingdom. Daemon wanted to have his Valyrian bride before anyone, especially the Hightower cunt, got any ideas.

“Nothing.” You wipe your tears away, angrily. You scoot your cute little rear towards the edge of the tree you are sitting under. As far as you can go without losing the spot of shade.

Daemon sighs. He is used to you being difficult, but it would soon change. You would be informed of your duty and behave in a manner befitting your position in life soon enough.

“Do I need to protect your honor?” The very thought unsettles him. Three years his younger, you are still barely a maiden in his eyes. A pure, unspoiled being. The idea of someone else corrupting your innocence, something that is meant to be his, is infuriating. Daemon hates when other people touch what is his.

If anyone will corrupt you, it’s him.

You laugh, bitterly.

“If only!”

“What do you mean?” Your statement has clarified nothing. He feels more confused than before. Perhaps, you have a secret lover who refuses to take your maidenhead? Or are you suffering from unrequited love? But when? With whom? You spend nearly all your time in the library, pouring over dusty books, or on dragonback. Not much time for entertaining suitors.

You stay quiet. There is a strange expression on your face, a mix of embarrassment and sadness.

“Hāedus.” Daemon prompts, gently tugging on your braid.

“Some ladies Aemma brought were talking about knights, and kissing…” You get a fit of hiccups and nearly choke, so Daemon is forced to wipe the snot from your nose so you don’t suffocate to death. Let it not be said he is a bad brother. “They laughed at me!”

“They laughed at you?” How dare them. Only Daemon was allowed the honor of your tears. You were too important.

“No one asked to dance with me at the feast! And no knight has ever kissed me.” You pout, about to go into hysterics again. “Ever.”

“Doña hāedus…” Daemon wipes your tears, fighting his smile. He has an inkling you wouldn’t think it funny. “You shouldn’t listen to them. You are a Princess, the blood of the dragon. They are just sheep.”

You pout more. Daemon hurries to comfort you. Oddly, he dislikes seeing tears on your face. It must be because you are in public. As a Princess and his future wife, your actions reflect on House Targaryen.

“Ugly sheep. In fact, the actual sheep in the Vale are prettier.”

“But knights have kissed them! And they get asked to dance, and to walk in the gardens, and…”

Daemon raises his hand.

“Knights would kiss you too if they could. But you are too superior to them. They wouldn’t dare.” Or they would meet Dark Sister. All your first should be his. “It’s excellent that you have not sullied yourself with just any knight who looks at you.”

“But I am getting old.”

You are about to cry again. Your female vanity must be hurt, thinking yourself unwanted. Daemon will never understand caring about what others think of him. Dragons shouldn’t concern themselves with the opinion of the sheep.

But there is something about you, the soft little Princess who crumbles up completely when someone is mean to her, that tugs at his heartstrings.

It is why he leans in and captures your mouth with his. You taste like innocence and salt, melting on his tongue. It’s not Daemon’s first kiss, but it feels like it. There is a tug deep inside of him, a strange yearning on his chest, that has not been present when he has kissed other women. Not even maidens.

Cloyingly sweet, dripping on his tongue like the most enticing potion. His. Never has he experienced this before. Daemon wants to drown on it, drown in you. But before he has a chance, you give him a shove and run as fast as you can.

And he stands there, as if struck by lighting, pinned down by the unmeasurable realization that this is love. Love, in its purest form, for his soon-to-be sister wife. It leaves him dazed, confused, rooted to the spot. Utterly out of control.

“DID YOU HEAR?” The serving girl whispers loudly, her voice carrying through the corridor. Night has fallen already, and you pour over a heavy tome on constellations while sitting in one of the windowsills of the Red Keep. It is the best time to put your new knowledge into practice, but the constant chattering of the maids interrupts you.

You close your book, hesitating between scolding them and sending them away, or waiting for them to leave on their own. Scolding them feels unkind. It’s late enough for them to no longer be on duty, and there is no harm in what they are doing. This corridor is a heavily transited one.

Perhaps you should move to your rooms. But you do not have a balcony, and the view from your windowsill it’s quite limited. As you ponder on it, something they say catches your attention.

“And they say the Prince asked for a blonde girl. A maiden.” The Prince. Daemon! You have not seen hide nor hair of your older brother since he stole your first kiss. In fact, you have been avoiding him.

As children, he had played plenty of nasty tricks on you. Once, in a fit of temper, he had beheaded all your dolls and hanged their little heads from a window. But adulthood had mellowed him out. Or so you thought.

The worst thing wasn’t that Daemon stole your first kiss. It was that you enjoyed it.

“No!” The other girl sounds scandalized.

“Yes. And that is not all. He took her roughly, and was kicked out before even…”

Took a whore roughly? You knew he whored around, but hurting whores was a new low. You weren’t too approving of his behavior, but whoring was normal for young lords. Everyone knew they did it, even the most pious ones. Hurting them, though? It was no better than being a rapist.

The other girl lets out a gasp, but she sounds more delighted by the gossip than anything else.

“Imagine how rough it had to be for them to kick him out.”

“I would say plenty. Poor girl.”

“He is out again, is he not?”

“Every night, like clockwork. Something has roused his appetite, it seems. He used to whore, but not…”

Their scandalized voices drift down the corridor, and you think the rumor must be wrong. Daemon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Sure, he whored around, and took plenty of maidenheads, but your brother wasn’t cruel.

Was he?

He had stolen your first kiss. Beyond the softness and the sweetness of the kiss, Daemon had ruined a moment that was meant to be special. Now, it was forever tainted with the memory of being made a mockery of. Not only by those girls, but him too.

There was a difference between stealing a kiss and hurting whores, though. Much more, when it came to hurting them seriously enough to be kicked out of the pleasure house.

Was it your fault? Had he discovered with you he enjoyed taking from women by force? Was he taking out his anger with you on them? The maid had said the girl was blonde. Perhaps Valyrian blonde.

You needed to know. You ran to your rooms and got your black cloak, set on finding him.

Finding Daemon was no easy task. You made it to the city on foot, but once there, you had trouble locating the pleasure houses. There was no sign outwardly pointing to them, but you managed to get to Flea Bottom without getting mugged. Or at least, this looked like what you thought Flea Bottom looked like.

The streets were dirtier, the crowd rougher and drunker. There were people sleeping on the floor, no Sept in sight. This was a place far away from the Gods. The few Goldcloaks patrolling seemed uninterested in actually preventing crime.

You made sure to walk with purpose, afraid of being stopped if you looked like you were out of place. The streets were badly lit, and you could barely tell apart one alley from another.

A sudden tune caught your attention. A woman was singing in a tongue you didn’t recognize. You decided to follow her voice, but before you could do so, someone blocked your path.

“… A dragon for half an hour.” It was a woman. Her hair was dark and hanging limp around her face. She swayed as she walked. “My prince, I will let you choke me.”

You made a face, realizing a strand of your silver hair was peeking on the edge of your hood. She thought you were Daemon, you realized. Both your brother and you kept your hair long, and in the darkness of the alley, with your hood up, you may have looked alike. Was she a whore?

“I’ll let you. A dragon, please, I need to feed my children.”

Children. She had babes. You imagined them, tucked in their beds, wondering where their mother had gone. What if something happened to her? If the children had a present father, he would provide for them, and she wouldn’t be here. It was how the world worked. She must be alone with the babes.

You reached inside your cloak, and pulled out a gold dragon. There was an odd sort of pity building inside you. You imagined yourself, offering up your body to strangers to feed your children, and your heart shattered into little pieces.

You had never questioned the role of whores. They were sullied women, but they served a purpose. Entertain the men so they didn’t hurt others. Tend to their baser needs. It didn’t feel so clear-cut as you avoided the woman, in fear she might attempt to service you.

The voice sounded louder, so you ducked into the next alleyway. It was then you saw them.

The woman singing was sitting at the entrance of a small house. She was scantily clad, as were the surrounding women. But there was only one of them who caught your attention.

She was tall and willowy, with long limbs. There was a haunting elegance to her that looked out of place in the Street of Silk. Her blonde hair was long, and in the right light, could be mistaken for silver. It cascaded down her shoulders. Her face was eerily similar to your own. She was tragically beautiful, stricken by some unseen grief.

Sitting down and clapping along to the song, she looked as if she was praying. There was a dark stain on her neck, cleverly hidden by her hair. The closer you looked, the more it seemed like a bite mark. Not just any bite. A vicious one.

You gasped, hands coming to your mouth to muffle the sound. Whores had never been of concern to you, but now you were seeing their reality, and it was heartbreaking. The thought of women in brothels, in cages, as pleasure slaves, made you want to weep.

Women like you. That she wore your face was even more jarring.

WHEN CARAXES HAD been born, he had not done so alone. Out of the ether, his sister had come, hands linked with his. Meraxes, goddess of the sky, an eternity doomed to hold to her sibling. Caraxes only reflected his twin’s colors, gazing up at her as the flowers did the sun.

It was said that they met only once a day, thanks to the mercy of Gaelithox, who allowed the twins to embrace every sunset. It was the reason Meraxes hated him. He held on to her too strong, and prevented her from embracing the one who she truly loved. He invaded even her reflection, seeking to make himself a part of her, even invading her sacred reflection in the waters of her twin.

The story was always one of your favorites. You begged Viserys every night to tell it to you, sickening Daemon with your romantic tales. He isn’t sure why he is reminded of it today, of all days.

Foreboding, he will think later, when the storm has passed. But now, he chooses to focus on the coronation taking place in front of him, and bask in their triumph.

“Kings reward loyalty.” Viserys says, after the crown is placed on his head by a proud Aemma. “And my first act will be rewarding those that stood by my side.”

Daemon and you are kneeling, the first among the crowd. The first to take a knee to their King. There is a strange feeling in his throat, and he fights the urge to cry. Daemon has always considered tears a weakness, but the moment is so perfect, so magical, he feels the urge to do so.

Men don’t cry. Instead, they take big breaths, and savor their victory. Viserys on the Iron Throne, and Daemon about to be given your hand. All they have ever wanted, now ripe for the taking.

“Brother, please rise.” Viserys' voice is clear and loud. Daemon does so, pleased by the honor of being the first to rise in front of the masses. They had talked about it, of putting up a show for their political enemies, but Daemon had never expected Viserys to grant him honors before any other of his advisors. “Your diplomatic and martial skills were essential to securing my claim. As a reward, I give to you our sister’s hand, and name you my heir. May the two of you have a fruitful union and make House Targaryen proud.”

And when he turns to you, with a smile on his face, he realizes why he remembered the story of Caraxes and Meraxes.

Your beautiful, purple eyes, are wet with tears. You remain on bent knee, frozen.

Daemon pulls you up with the utmost tenderness, one reserved for family alone. The hand on your elbow seems to shake you out of your stupor.

“Thank you, my King.” Your voice trembles, but you speak the words dutifully. You know as well as him that this is Viserys’ day. Everything has to go perfectly. There can’t be any hint of division between the three of you, not when the rallying cry for Viserys had been that he was bringing back the three heads of the dragon.

Three siblings. Three dragonriders. Aegon, Visenya, Rhaenys.

“It is a great honor.” Daemon adds, tightening his grip on your arm. You look ready to bolt, and he is tasked with reminding you that you can’t.

A silent tear travels down your cheek. With your back to the crowd, no one but Viserys and Daemon can see it. Viserys gives him a long look, pleading him to do something. Neither of them had been expecting your reaction.

They had thought you would settle well into your duty. That marriage would give you a stable tether, a shield for your fragile soul. Viserys had chosen Daemon for the honor, had given you to him to care and protect.

But you seem even more scared that you were before. How wrong had they been.

“We are very excited.” Daemon hugs you to him, fighting to keep his composure. Your rejection stings, and he wants to rage, but he can’t. Because you are in public, and House Targaryen doesn’t air their dirty laundry in front of witnesses, but more importantly because your dam is breaking. You let out a little sob, and Daemon has to embrace you fully to prevent you from falling apart.

Fools that they are, the rest of the courtiers mistake it for a sound of joy. What else could you want? To marry the King’s heir, a Valyrian husband who can give you pure Valyrian babes.

“Good.” Viserys smiles, a bit strained. You take a shuddery breath, and straighten up under his arm. Daemon can practically feel the change, from scared girl, to experienced courtier. You know as well as he does the importance of presenting a united front.

You smile. It’s as fake as the silks whores wear, when pretending to be a Targaryen Princess. To the inexperienced masses, it tears all the same.

“How joyful days come ahead. Long live the King!”

You open your arms, the picture of the hopeful bride. The smile threatens to crack your face in two. The crowd cheers. A royal wedding is always something to admire, and there is no better way of celebrating a coronation than with one.

The hour is late when Daemon finally manages to catch Viserys alone. You have gone straight to your rooms after the feast, sulking. Aemma has been sat outside your door for hours by now, trying to coax you out like one would do to a skittish cat. Her talks of duty and royal wombs only got her a pillow to the face for her efforts.

Daemon and Viserys, much more used to your moods, hadn’t bothered. You were angry, but not hysterical. Both often manifested in tears in your case. Only one could prove lethal.

“I do not understand.” Viserys frowns. “What more can she want? The two of you will get Dragonstone, for a few years at least, and when I have an heir, you will not be kicked out. You are family.”

“I do not understand it either.” Underneath the simmering rage Daemon feels, there is only confusion. He is a knight, and has proven his skills sufficiently enough to be awarded Dark Sister. He is of an equal standing to you, a Prince to a Princess. He loves you so deeply it scares him.

The Seven know he has tried to get you out of his head through every means possible. He has deflowered more maidens that he can count this week alone, his cock is chafed raw, and yet, no matter how beautiful they are, your face still haunts him. It’s your name on his lips when he comes, and your body he pictures under him. The whores are never right. Their hair is the wrong shade, they are too thin or too fat, their tears taste of iron instead of your sweet salt.

You should not think it is a bad thing. Women love that sort of thing, leading men by their cocks, getting them so cuntstruck they cannot see straight. You should love it too because it is a weakness to him, but a power you can wield. And yet, you hate it. You had run.

“I cannot go back on my word now.” Viserys reaches for his cup of wine. He knows that his reign is still fragile, and if his lords see his sister defying him, they might get ideas. “She has to marry someone, and with her delicate constitution, I cannot in good conscience…”

“Handing her to a stranger is a bad idea.” Daemon agrees, not out of some selfish motivation, but because he knows it’s the truth. You have always been far more delicate than most ladies, with your books and silly ideas about the role women should play. Had you not been so closely tied to Viserys, you may have even supported Rhaenys.

If Viserys was Aegon, you were Rhaenys. The sensitive little sister, loved because of her innocence and kindness. You never tried to push your strange ideas, after all. You just looked like a kicked puppy when contradicted.

Any other man would crush you at the first hint of defiance. Daemon, used to you as he was, knew rage was futile. If you wouldn’t settle in your duties easily, he had to take action and ensure you did through other means.

Gentler means. Daemon still remembered the fits you used to have when little. Viserys did too. Neither wanted a repetition.

“I have thought about it, and you should forgo the bedding.”

“I agree. It might make her sick.” Sick is the euphemism they use for your fits when there are prying ears. Daemon gives a pointed glance at the guards. Viserys drops the topic after that.

Almost against his will, when the embers of the fire they sit in front of die, Daemon goes to your rooms. He isn’t really thinking, when he walks down the hallways that lead to your chambers instead of his. Nor is he thinking when he dismisses your guards, and opens your door.

You are laying on your side, a pillow held to your thighs. Your hands are made into fists over them, as if you had fallen asleep in your rage still. Despite it, your face is peaceful, with only dried tear tracks to disturb your childish expression.

Your body is curled into itself, tightly. You must be cold, Daemon thinks, and takes of his cloak to lay it over your form.

In dreams, you smile. And Daemon understands that he is no Gaelithox. There was a reason Caraxes and Meraxes were only allowed to embrace once a day, after all.

HORROR AND RAGE are not emotions that lend itself to permanence. At least, not in you. Not when it comes to him.

Not when he plays such strange game, and gets you strange prizes. Daemon has not asked for his cloak back. You have taken to sleeping wrapped up underneath it.

How can a man capable of such cruelty be capable of such tenderness? Confusion means ignorance, and ignorance breeds fear. You have known Daemon all your life, but you are still unable to understand him.

The only certainty you have is that when he is near, your rationality flies out of the window. It’s all instinctual. To fight, to fuck, to fucking fight.

The sleep of reason produces monsters. Monsters that take hold of your heart and squeeze it, until it is no more than liquid and pulp. Did he hurt that woman? Will he hurt you? Love you?

Daemon had stolen your first kiss. Daemon had gotten kicked out of a brothel. There was a girl in the Street of Silk with a bite mark on her neck. He had visited you the night of your betrothal and tucked you in.

It might mean nothing. It might mean everything. Whichever it is, you have no time to come to terms with it. Viserys wishes for the two of you to be married by the end of this moon. It makes you feel even more blindsided and betrayed.

None of them had thought to ask you before deciding. They had just done so.

The idea of marrying your brother wasn’t what came as a great shock. As a child, you had often daydreamed of honoring your ancestors and becoming your brother’s wife. It was the way things should be. But you had always thought you would marry Viserys.

When Viserys married Aemma, you thought you would marry someone outside your household. Daemon and you were clearly ill-suited, even before everything that had happened between the two of you.

Betrothing the two of you would be madness. You had never understood each other in the manner Viserys and him did. You were an outsider to their relationship, the other head of the dragon. Rhaenys to her conquerors.

But inexplicably, Viserys had done so. Being betrothed to him without even being asked about it stung. No one had thought to warn you, or ask for your opinion. They had simply announced it to court and hoped you would comply.

The feeling of betrayal had only mellowed out after asking Viserys his reasoning. He hadn’t been trying to blindside you, he had explained. He had thought you would be happy. Both Daemon and you yearned for Valyrian partners. It made sense to betroth the two of you, especially because Daemon had asked to marry soon.

Your brothers were just dumb. But their foolishness was a dangerous one, since they rode the two biggest dragons of your generation and sat on the Iron Throne. Common fools could undo the damage they caused.

But in your case, there was no way out but through. Viserys had begged you to give Daemon a chance, and so, you found yourself preparing for meeting him.

Viserys had chosen the place the two of you would meet. The Godswood was neutral territory, and far away from the castle that if you started shouting insults at each other, only the Kingsguard shadowing you would hear.

It only made you dread the encounter further. You had taken a liking to the Godswood, and were contemplating using it as a hideaway for when things at court got to be too much. If this went wrong, it would forever taint the place for you.

You decide to arrive early, to allow yourself some time to compose yourself. Daemon beats you to it, already waiting near a tree when you get there.

“Hāedus,” Daemon says, when he sees you. In a show of rebellion, you have decided to wear your more modest gown, with a neckline that nearly reaches your ears. Aemma had encouraged you to wear something more revealing, but you wanted to strangle the cow. “You look lovely.”

“Lēkia.” You press a kiss to his cheek, unsure if you should greet him like you always do, or the betrothal has changed the protocol. Kissing his cheek as you always do seems safer, but you regret it when his eyes flutter closed at your touch.

He is acting odder than usual. In an increasingly out-of-character charm offensive, he takes off his cloak and places it on the grass.

“So you may sit.” His tone is too formal. It makes you even more wary, but you sit. Daemon does the same, by your side. So close, you end up frowning more.

He leans in. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

“Despite my struggles, I have come to admire you.” Daemon noses along the hair right above your ear. “Rationality has left me, and no matter how hard I try, you haunt me at every corner, every hallway, every street of this damned city.”

“What am I supposed to say?” You complain, with a frown. You push him a little, to be able to meet his eyes.“I am well aware of your attempts at forgetting. Valyrian whores, Daemon? Really?”

“It was all in vain.” He pulls you back in, embracing you. His hands are warm around your stomach, his lips chafed against the skin of your neck. “Let me take down your hair.”

Your eyebrows raise. Out of all things he can ask for, this is the weirdest one. His petition is so simple and innocent, you almost think he is not Daemon.

“Let me take down your hair.” Daemon begs. The ardent tone in his voices surprises you. He sounds like a man possessed. As if he cannot survive if you deny him. “Hāedus...”

This devotion, this unexpected fit of love, surprises you. So much, you find yourself nodding.

You feel his chest contract with his sudden inhale. His hands are careful as they unmake your braid. His touch so tender, even the most delicate hairdresser would envy it. But when your hair falls down your back, in mussed tendrils, he shows himself to be Daemon.

His nose presses to your temple, breathing you in. His fingers run through your hair, and he presses feverish kisses to your scalp, your jaw, your ear. Licks the sweat behind it, samples your earlobe with his teeth.

Teeth. It makes you tense. You think of the girl in Flea Bottom, of the bite over her throat.

“I can’t stop thinking of you. You appear before me in the darkest corners, and in the brightest meadows.” Daemon inhales, hands grasping your waist tightly. “When I squired, away from home, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I didn’t know it was love then, but I have loved you since before I knew what the word meant. I fucked the tightest cunts of Westeros, sampled the prettiest maidens, and yet it is your face that I imagine when tugging at my cock.”

Something inside you snaps. Among the righteous indignation, a strange satisfaction takes place. You shove him off you.

“Don’t be crass!”

Daemon doesn’t attempt to embrace you again, but remains unbearably close. Your eyes drift to his lips. You would love him even if he were the one who mauled the whore. You would love him even if he did it to you. Because of it, perhaps.

“I want you to be mine. Put me out of my misery.” Daemon begs, tucking your hair behind your ears. “Marry me, and end my suffering.”

“You frighten me.” You whisper, without quite meaning to.

“Do you fear I will hurt you?” Daemon asks you, voice very gentle.

You avert your eyes. It’s not that what you fear. It’s how out of control you are when it comes to him.

“I would never.” He vows, leaning in. His lips brush against yours, before Daemon presses his forehead to yours. He looks into your eyes, and smiles. “Do you remember the last time we kissed?”

“Of course I do, you idiot.” You scowl at the memory. “You stole…”

“No. You were crying because no knight…” He gets up, and begins to tug you to your feet. You remain sitting. “Oh, get up, you stubborn thing.”

“Daemon!” You complain, but get up. He stands a few feet away from you. Curious about the point he intends to make, you cross your arms over your chest and glare.

He offers you his hand, as if to dance. You take it, eyes full of distrust.

“I have been a cunt. But you have to stop running.” Daemon circles you, pulling on your hand slightly. Is he…? Your confusion must show on your face because he gives you a mocking glance. “To dance from afar is not to dance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You might as well be in Essos.” Daemon keeps circling you. “Let us dance properly, for once.”

“Here? Dance?” There is no music. And your brother has never been one for bursting into spontaneous song and dance. At least, you don’t think so.

“Together. You wanted knights to ask you to.” Daemon pulls you close, into a hug, and the puzzle pieces finally fit. The day he had kissed you, you had been crying because no one had asked you to dance. That Daemon remembers the reason when you had nearly forgotten it yourself astonishes you. “Now a Prince asks you. Do not make me ask twice, please.”

“Let us try. To dance as if glued by fire. Let me prove I can be good to you. That I listen to you. ”

And it’s stupid. It’s silly, there is not even music. But you let him pull you in, this time, and realize Daemon has always been capable of tenderness. At least, when it comes to you.

[gabrielapazlima]

Why do i ship Cuddlejump⚡️❤️

(Hoppy hopscotch x Bobby bearhug)

And how i see their dynamic being like!

if you guys follow me for a while you guys may already noticed my very normal adimiration for the ship between hoppy hopscotch and bobby bearhug from the smiling critters...its not like they are 90% of my art gallery and that i cannot shut the fuck up about this ship hahaha right?

well,yea,i really,really,REALLY like them- its a ship that i pratically came up with first than anyone and somehow other ppl ended up found of them....but why? Why does Gabriela da paz lima is so normally obcessed with the ideia of a green tomboy rabbit n a red carebear being a couple?

At fist you may think "Uhh it is probally because of the classic tomboy tough girl x soft girly girl archetype right?" and yea,i can see why ppl think that is a very famous lesbian ship dynamic i respect ppl that are solid into them bc of it.... but its deeper to me than that...first i want to talk abt hoppy n bobby's solo characters first!

Hoppy Hopscotch⚡️🐰

ngl when i entered this fandom she was like,my favorite...i still love her tho

she is basically the energetic tomboy of the group acording w her official descreptions,she is also know as THE big motivation force of the critters,always pushing them out their comfort and have a very adventuous n positive spirit-

BUT she have very noticeble characters flaws as well,not only she is quite loud but she tends to be bossy n really impatient,being described as someone that can be "handful to deal with",and before the book release she is literaly the only critters with her character flaws listed-

i always liked how her personality is kinda complexish in comparassion to other critters,she is clealy have a good heart,very loyal n likes to help the others (which we can see in her cardboard line) but she can come up as rough n "overwhelming" in the way that she does it,she doesnt have the intention of hurt or being mean but she still comes as rude due her lack of patience n understanding( cof cof autism) of ppl's limits-

i really like her i feel like she is SO underrated:( you guys have to STOP make her a bully,she is NOT like that.)

Bobby bearhug🐻❤️

i love bobby so much that is not even funny,she is my kin baby-

she seems to be the typical shallow love girl at first sight but...theres so much more abt this carebear....

in her descreptions she is basically the mom friend of the group,she is here to keep her friends together not matter what,she is very phisically affecionate,she is emotional inteligent being very patient n understanding ( which is kinda of what hoppy lacks 👀) n her compassion don't limits itself to only hed friends but to things,places n basically any living thing-

she seems to be pretty much the perfect girl right?...well yea almost....and then theres her voice lines that give a very tonal shift to her character....

"i love you to the moon and back!im CRAZY about you...im lost without you...i been lost a long time....please take me with you this time....you'won't leave,will you?!"

at first it seems some kinda yandere shit but reading more and more deep in that,it sounds so desesperate n sad tbh...i seems like she is not thay confident by herself n DEEPLY fears the abandoment...which is...very ironical for HER character...

"But these lines are about the bbis destiny" yea i know but these lines are ALSO reflected in their cartoon personalities,like kickin being scared n hoppy being impatient...it very likely that is ALSO linked to her canon personality as well...which also makes me think in what amber said about her...

Damn thats....so relatable...i always try my best to be there for other ppl but im always so hard to myself when i know that i should not....thats a perfect irony to the "love character"...

she does not have that much of strong will for herself,she does not love herself in the same way that she loves everyone...she feels weak and defenceless n unwanted being at her own because she doesnt feel enough...

fuck,im crying...They will NEVER make me hate you,bobby bearhug.

🐰⚡️About Hoppy n Bobby's relationship🐻❤️

you see...they are both are very complex girls that love to support people on their own distinte ways,hoppy is the more of phisical support crittet while bobby is the emotional support critter- they deeply care about their friends and they want see them trying news things...i would say that they both valorize support over anything,thats their main atribute-

but they are also deeply flawed in very different ways,hoppy is impatient,bossy n can come off as rude bc of her lack of caring side....also very reckless as consequence....(kinda the reason of why she died) Bobby is very emotional dependent which causes her to panic over the ideia of being alone n doesnt like trying to push herself to do anything when she is feeling too alone( that also can be the reason of why she died)...

they flaws n qualities...weidly compliment each other well...hoppy needs more emotional inteligence n more understanding,not only of other ppl's limits but her own limits.... Bobby needs strengh will and motivation due her deep insecurities and self loath,she can be stronger than she is at her own,and hoppy can show that to her-

i feel like they dynamic is really strong and be summarized as "Besides all our differences,we value the same thing and in the end of the day,i really need you"

i just REALLY love comprimentary duos + opposite atract sorry- call me basic bitch.

💚More of their dynamic plus personal headcanons❤️

i like to think that hoppy would be sighly unconfortable with bobby's affection fowards her at first but she is slowly beggins to enjoy it and reciprocate it-

i also like to think that they would be the ones to come up with the group's activities together,hoppy tries to do batshit insane stuff but bobby tones them down to be safier-(they MIGHT go into lil fights abt it)

also hoppy really enjoys bobby's anger/tough moments because she is surprising REALLY strong but she always never show it-

hoppy also tends to be emotional but she nevr shows it util bobby find it by her own and she ended uo breaking her tough girl persona in front of her(which of course bobby accepts)

Bobby,hoppy n kickin were kinda of a trio and they basically the over loving girl,the cool "chill" guy and the hyperative dumbass...it fits them...

i have a MILLIONS of stuff to say about them but i would be here forever sooo i hope you guys have enjoyed my yapping about cuddlejump:)

BYE!!!

[sailoryooons]

Carmen | pjm x kth (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous. 

☾ Word Count: 10,277

☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so. 

☾ Published: October 27, 2023

☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY. 

☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab

The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray

Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open. 

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching. 

She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.

It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them. 

The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting. 

He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions. 

Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it. 

Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted. 

Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here. 

The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.

And his eyes do stray. 

In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger. 

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager. 

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning. 

It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room. 

He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen. 

There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for. 

When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.

The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it. 

He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going. 

Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house. 

Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him. 

None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.

Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink. 

“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”

“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning. 

Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception. 

Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings. 

People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons. 

Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.

Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning. 

Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape. 

“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”

The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.

There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze. 

“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”

“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”

“Spotify?”

Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”

Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber. 

A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”

“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.” 

Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”

“That eager to see me again?”

“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”

“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.” 

Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.

Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air. 

Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.

When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-

“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”

Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”

“Sanguine.”

He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”

“It is.”

“Wait, are you a member?” 

Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her. 

Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.

“Want to see it?”

He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward. 

The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.

Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height. 

“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?” 

“Some lessons are hard to learn.” 

Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder. 

Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.

“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”

Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer. 

She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.

The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again. 

A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes. 

For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs. 

The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture. 

Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger. 

Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold. 

The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline. 

Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety. 

In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him. 

He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling? 

Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess. 

Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”

It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.” 

“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”

“Well, he didn’t find him.” 

Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”

He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.

There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice. 

The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves. 

Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number. 

His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him. 

Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless. 

When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-

“Sing another.”

Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung. 

Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him. 

Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.

“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow. 

The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns. 

Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room. 

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung. 

A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be. 

“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.” 

The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know?”

“Are you asking me?” 

Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”

“Taehyung.” 

The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin. 

“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.” 

“Okay.” 

Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.” 

Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering. 

When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again. 

As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin. 

It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow. 

Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal. 

“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?” 

Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”

Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor. 

At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.” 

“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.” 

Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him. 

Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind. 

Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows. 

A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room. 

It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath. 

“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”

Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.

He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention. 

Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression. 

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.

“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?” 

“No, but I’m familiar with some.”

“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?” 

“I’m familiar with the Habanera.” 

“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.” 

Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again. 

“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.” 

“O-oh.” 

Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm. 

“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.” 

“Me?”

Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” Taheyung admits. 

“Look at me.” 

It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in. 

“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.” 

“Ask, then.” 

Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.

“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.

“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”

Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.” 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.

It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly. 

The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.

The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”

“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.” 

It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches. 

Perhaps never. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.” 

A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.

Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms. 

Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.

The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body? 

“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question. 

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”

Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes. 

Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs. 

Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.

“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”

Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side. 

Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.” 

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore. 

It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily. 

The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”

Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring. 

“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”

A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung. 

He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing. 

“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.” 

Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum. 

And he doesn’t stop. 

Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking. 

If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become. 

“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.” 

Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes. 

He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper. 

The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more. 

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.  

Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him. 

Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge. 

He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss. 

“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”

A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite. 

Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state. 

Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily. 

A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract. 

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine. 

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body. 

When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable. 

Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”

It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged. 

Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers. 

“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”

Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan. 

A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants. 

Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock. 

On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does. 

“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.” 

“And you? How do you feel?”

Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes. 

“Like I want to give you the world.” 

“Please.”

“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.” 

Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him. 

“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.” 

That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him. 

Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake. 

Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly. 

It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful. 

Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.

It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”

Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile. 

“I said do you like that?” 

“Yes!”

“Come here, let’s show them.” 

Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see. 

Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate. 

It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity. 

His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again. 

“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat. 

There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat. 

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin. 

Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood. 

The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling. 

His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward. 

Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high. 

But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip. 

A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with. 

“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”

“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.” 

It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case. 

Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting. 

Vampires. 

The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open. 

“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?” 

Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.” 

Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.” 

-

PERMANENT TAG LIST: 

@wobblewobble822 @idkjustlovingbts @teddytaee @jknoah @veronawrites @bts-ruu @tumeperds @ashtonkeller @ivyrosewater @secfir @hoseokshobagi

Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body. 

[shadowsof-thenight]

Bound for Ruin

Summary: When Jenna meets Bucky it takes her a while to realise they both want very different things. But Bucky is a stubborn man, who rarely hears no and he's not about to take it for an answer now.

Ship: Bucky Barnes x OFC 

Warnings: Angst, sugar baby/daddy dynamics, some toxic attitudes.

Words: 4949 (just under the max amount!)

A/N: It's been a while since I entered Suz' (@targaryenvampireslayer) Blind Date challenge. The quote is bold.

She really put me to the test as the trope she gave me was Sugar daddy and that's far from my usual work. But instead of asking for something more familiar, I liked the idea of stepping out of my comfort zone. This isn't at all like I first imagined though, so I hope you'll like it.

And I apologise for any mistakes. This wasn’t beta’ed. 

She stalked into the club, paying no mind to the bouncers or security. They knew who she was and wouldn’t bar her entry. Her strides were powerful and confident, despite the fact that she’d realised there was no plan upon entering. She hadn’t thought that far ahead at all. She’d simply been too angry to think when she’d left her house, clutching the letter that tipped her over the edge. 

She took a breath as the loud music, the amount of people and the heat washed over her. Jenna never really liked clubs like this, preferring smaller bars where conversation was an option. Alas, this was where she’d find the object of her anger. It was his first business, the place where it all started and he came here every Saturday as it was the busiest day. Jenna looked to her left and saw girls dancing on the various platforms, as they did every weekend. 

She couldn’t suppress a smirk as an idea sparked in her mind. She could’ve sat down at the bar and he would’ve noticed her quick enough, but this might just be better. 

A devilish smile played on her lips as she walked over to one of the higher platforms and climbed up. Stepping on it, she told the girl already dancing to take a small break. The girl looked utterly confused and her eyes sought out the security guard that always stood nearby. He probably signalled for her to agree, because she backed off towards the steps.

“Don’t go far, you’ll have your spot back in no time,” Jenna added with a smirk as she took of her coat and threw it aside. She then looked straight at the camera and flipped it off, before unbuttoning her blouse to show some cleavage. Just enough to get a reaction from the one man she was doing this for.

As expected it only took Bucky mere moments to respond. He was out of his office and making his way towards her, scowling as he did so. Jenna schooled her expression as best she could, feigning innocence as she smiled and waved. She kept dancing, finishing the song that was playing, before signalling the girl to return. 

As she stepped back down, the security guard that had been quietly observing handed her her coat. She thanked him with a wink—knowing it would annoy Bucky further.  That was Bucky’s cue to grab her arm and pull her none-too-gently back to his office that was situated behind the bar. Inside the confines of his office he released her arm with a huff and began pacing the space between her and his desk. Seeing his frustration gave her an odd sense of satisfaction. She saw it as payback for all the trouble he’d caused her these last few months. 

She took a moment to quietly observe him. His handsome face was twisted into a grimace, his blue eyes hard and his beautiful soft lips pressed to a tin line. He really was an impressive specimen, she thought to herself, if only he was less stubborn. 

When Jenna had lost her job four months ago, she hadn’t imagined her life would become entangled with the man before her. Bucky Barnes had been nothing but an enigma to her. One of the most successful men in the city, incredibly private and therefore mysterious. Even though she’d met him several times through her friend Abigail, she never quite got a read on him. She still didn’t feel like she really knew him, but at least she knew which buttons to push for a reaction. 

For years Abigail had had an arrangement with one of Bucky’s best friends, Sam. He treated her like a queen—luxurious gifts, trips, a stellar apartment in their expensive city and a generous allowance. All she had to do was be available to him at all times. Abigail had tried to make the arrangement sound enticing to Jenna. Tried to convince her that this was a great deal, but Jenna care for it. She was ready for something more serious. For love, equality—freedom. The arrangement that Abigail loved so much, felt too limited to Jenna. And constricting. 

When she’d first gone on dates with Bucky, she wasn’t aware that he had expected the same arrangement. He’d buy her drinks, take her to dinner and charmed her better than anyone had ever done before. Jenna was certainly beguiled. Then he had offered to pay her rent and she’d gotten the gist of his intentions. It felt wrong. She had diploma’s, a good resume and interviews lined up—she didn’t need his money. She didn’t want to be a kept woman. Bucky had obviously been disappointed. He’d even offered her a job with one of his companies, but that didn’t seem all too different to Jenna. 

Then one by one her interviews were cancelled. People didn’t want to cross Bucky. They didn’t want to risk doing wrong by her and invoking his wrath. While she couldn’t really blame them—he’d proven himself a ruthless businessman—it still hurt that her abilities no longer mattered now that he was involved. She’d achieved everything before then on merit. She studied hard, worked hard and pushed through when things got tough. Yet none of that carried any weight now. 

Bucky hadn’t been ready to budge–unable to accept that any of her current state was due to his interest. He was enthralled. She was beautiful, smart and headstrong. Her ability to say no to him made her more interesting. He had been convinced that she’d come around to the arrangement he wanted. He was used to getting his way. 

When he discovered her financial strain, he’d imagined himself swooping in like a knight in shining armour, while she simply wanted to be her own saviour. She liked him, but she wanted to be an equal partner, not subservient. The massive mismatch had caused strive. 

He refused to help her get a job and she had fought his desires. But now, without a job and an eviction notice to boot, she was getting desperate. Going into his place of business and antagonising him had been her last attempt to get the upper hand. Just so she wouldn’t feel weak for bending to him. 

“What was that?” He growled. He stood straight, breathing deep in an attempt to curb his anger, but she could see him clenching and unclenching his fists. He was simmering, anger still close to the surface. Funnily enough, she thought he looked rather sexy. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” She asked, her tone haughty, the fingers of her right hand playing with her still opened buttons. 

“Are you here to accept my proposal? Or a job?” He asked, stepping close to her. 

“You really haven’t given me much choice,” Jenna exclaimed, pulling the eviction notice from her pocket and pushing it in his hands. Looking it over quickly, he had the good sense to cast his eyes down. 

“This was never my intention,” he said gruffly, taking a step back from her. 

“Then what was? You wanted me at your mercy, did you not?” She asked. “To control everything.” 

“I wanted you to want to be here.” He looked rather defeated as he still stared at the letter in his hands. 

“That doesn’t happen by forcing my hand,” she said, her words icy. She stepped closer to him as she spoke. “You arrogant asshole, why couldn’t you have left me alone?” 

Her words made him snap his eyes back to her. She stood close, perhaps too close she realised as she looked from his eyes to his lips and back. Why was he so hot? 

He closed the gap between them quickly, pressing his lips to hers before anything else could be said. They were soft as they moved against her own. His movements held no urgency as he pulled her close. She pulled back at first, but he moved with her—trapping her against the wall and she sighed into the kiss before returning it. She did like him, regardless of their issues. Not to mention that she was here to accept his conditions finally, to be his sugar baby. At the very least she could enjoy herself. 

Her hands found his shoulders, fingers gently tickling down his arms and he groaned into the kiss. The response intrigued her. If a simple touch could make him increase his eagerness, what else could she do to him? Her hands explored further, heat exploding inside of her as his actions mirrored hers. 

The following hours were spend mapping out what the other liked, wanted and was good at. Jenna wouldn’t call it mind blowing exactly—that was reserved for their first night together months ago—but it was good. Really good.  

“I don’t think control is that bad,” he said as he put his shirt back on, his back turned to her, and she smiled bitterly. How a few simple words could ruin her mood so quickly. She shook her head as she remembered that this was a business deal, even if she couldn’t help but feel like she caught the short end of the stick.

***

Five weeks later 

Jenna pulled away reluctantly. She was tired. She hadn’t had many full nights sleep in weeks. Bucky liked seeing her after work, but insisted on sleeping alone. Leaving her to pack her things and go home every night, while he turned around and slept. During the day, he was a gentleman. He took her on dates, listened to her, asked for her opinions, used her insights to make decisions, made her feel important to him. But at night, he kept her at arms length. Never quite opening up to her. That was until now. 

“Stay,” He whispered. 

She was already dressed, so she knew he’d been debating this. Standing by the door, she looked back in surprise. His arm was tossed over his face, so she couldn’t see his expression. Still his words had shown a kind of vulnerability he hadn’t offered her before. 

She assumed it was to protect himself. Still, this was him trying, wasn’t it? Jenna moved back towards the bed and sat down on the edge, pulling his arm away from his face. 

“You don’t want to sleep alone tonight?” She asked, looking him straight in the eyes. When he tried to look away, she gently took hold of his cheek and held his gaze. “Talk to me,” she added softly. 

“I don’t,” he said. The look in his eyes had never been quite as open as it was now. In all the months they’d known each other, there’d been a mask. One that didn’t falter, even during their arrangement. Not until this moment and her heart warmed at the thought of really moving past his walls. She knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up, shouldn’t read too much into it, but she wanted it so badly. 

Jenna took a deep breath, kicked off her slippers and climbed on top of him, holding him tight. He sighed, pulling the covers over the two of them and melting into the hug. His eyes closed and he fell asleep holding her tight. As his breath slowed, she allowed herself to ponder this change in attitude. He didn’t open up as a rule. She’d realised a while back that it was why he preferred their arrangement over a real relationship.She wondered what changed tonight—apparently he needed more than he’d been asking for and she wanted to give it to him. 

She knew this was a messy situation that would bite her in the ass soon enough, but she couldn’t help herself. She was falling for him, despite his attempts to keep a firm distance. With him now opening up to her even a little, that distance grew smaller.

***

Three months later

“You’re gorgeous,” his lips were close to her ear as he spoke. His warm breath sending shivers down her spine, as his fingers lightly danced over her lower back which was exposed in her dress. 

One thing she’d found in the last few months was that he liked touch. He liked being close, physical, even when it wasn’t sexual. Jenna definitely didn’t mind. Even if it complicated her feelings, she didn’t fight his proximity. Since that night where he’d asked her to stay, she hadn’t spend a single night alone. The distance between them seemed to have evaporated and her heart was ignoring the reality of their situation. 

They walked around the banquet greeting other guests. He was soft, gentle and comfortable and she liked being here with him. He knew how to make her laugh, how to make her swoon and how to make her cry out his name in ecstasy. She wasn’t just getting comfortable, she was falling in love. And it was dangerous. 

With his hand still on her back, he went back to the conversations around them. Business people discussing new plans or boasting about their latest successes. She smiled as she observed him, he was in his element and it looked good on him. Bucky was strong and confident as he explained his own latest venture. He was charming, making sure everyone around him felt seen. And when he smiled, it lit up the room. So she stared, she couldn’t help it. 

“You’re staring,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. He pulled her even closer. 

“I was admiring the view,” she winked. Bucky smiled and leaned in for a kiss. 

“Thirty more minutes,” He promised with another kiss. 

“I’m okay. It’s a good view.” 

“Idem, but I know a better view,” he said and she didn’t need to guess what he meant as the fingers on her back teasingly dipped beneath the fabric of her dress. 

True to his word, Bucky pulled her from the conversations thirty minutes later. He told the people they’d been speaking too that they had an early start the following morning and it was time to go. She didn’t protest, even though there was nothing that would urge them out of bed the next day. 

His hands were on her sides as soon as they left the large hall. His lips tracing a feather light trail from her ear to her cheek as they waited for their coats. His lips found their way to hers as he first kissed the edges, first left, than right, before he smushed her lips and pushed his tongue inside her mouth. There was an urgency to his kiss, like he needed it. 

When he stopped, he looked deep into her eyes—a hauntingly enthralling look in those dazzling blue orbs of his—and he smiled happily. With a sigh he touched his forehead to hers, keeping eye contact and creating a stillness between them. It felt like he could see into the deepest part of her soul and she felt heat creeping up her neck and cheeks. 

“I want you,” he finally whispered, placing another kiss on her lips, this one more sensual. 

Their coats were brought out then, interrupting them, and they made their way outside where his driver was already waiting for them. Her hand warmly clasped in his as they walked and his lips close to her ear, whispering sweet little nothings. 

Bucky gallantly opened the door for her, before quickly walking around the car to join her on the backseat. Once seated the driver drove off and Bucky turned his attention back on Jenna. It started slowly, one hand trailing up her leg, finding the hem of her dress and then moving past it. His lips found her neck, finding the little pressure points he knew would make her sigh when he kissed them. Her hands made their way to his chest, playing with the lapels of his three-piece suit. Then she placed on hand on the back his neck and playing with the tips of his slicked back hair. 

“I love you,” she spoke the words before she could think. She meant them in that moment, more than she ever had with anyone in the past. But that wasn’t want this was and she quickly pulled back with a gasp. He still held her close, staring at her face while the seductive heat on her skin changed into cold sweat—had she ruined it? 

He cupped her cheek, not saying a word, the look in his eyes unreadable. Then he plunged his lips on hers and kissed her deeply, the urgency to his actions a stark contrast to the languidity of before. When he pulled back, his pupiles were enlarged. Jenna imagined hers were as well. Neither of them seemed to realised that they were still in the car. Not until a small knock alerted them of the driver’s presence. 

They offered apologetic smiles as they got out and quickly moved across the sidewalk and into the apartment building where Bucky lived. Thankfully the lobby was empty at this time of the night and they were able to walk through it and into the elevator without anyone speaking to them. Once in the confined space he pushed her up against the wall, pressing himself against her. She could feel his hard length pressed against her thigh and it ignited a heat in her core that could only be quenched by him. She pulled his face towards hers and hungrily kissed his lips, while his hands freely roamed her body over her dress. 

***

By the time Jenna woke up, Bucky was gone. He was supposed to have a day off, but he was nowhere to be found in the apartment. It wasn’t until she walked into the kitchen for a glass of water, that she saw his note. He’d gone into the office regardless. 

She sighed, they hadn’t spoke about her confession yet and she was eager to know what he thought. How he felt. Eager and scared. So instead of waiting, she looked at the clock and decided to visit him for lunch. No sense in postponing the inevitable.  

“Hey, love,” she said walking into his office after the secretary had let her in. Bucky was on the phone and held up a finger to silence her. She held up the bag of food to tell him what she was doing there and he pointed at the small seating area by the window. He soon ended the phone call and walked over to her. 

“We have to make this quick,” He was brusk. She hadn’t seen him like this before. “I have a meeting soon.” He added as he pulled her into him. “Lets eat then,” she offered, pulling back slightly. 

Bucky ignored her words and kissed her neck while his hands roamed over her body. His movements were rough, rushed and Jenna pushed his hands away. He halted his movements momentarily, looking at her and showing her that the wall they’d been breaking down was back up completely. Instantly she knew her words the night before had scared him off.

“Buck, what’s going on?” She asked, not ready to face her reality. 

“Are you saying no?” He questioned and suddenly she wondered what his intention was. Did he want her to walk away?

“I want to know why you’re acting like this,” she pressed. “This isn’t like you."

“I’m horny, you’re here. That’s how this works,” he stepped back from her, his fingers angrily combing through his hair. He’d been letting it grow out these last few months. She focussed on his movements to ignore the effect his words had had on her. ‘That’s how this works’. She’d thought or hoped that last night had changed things, but it hadn’t. This was still a business arrangement to him. Which wasn’t sufficient for her, not anymore. Her eyes pricked with unshed tears as she really let it sink in. 

He stood in front of the large windows that overlooked the city below, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his trousers. His silhouet in the weak winter sun was beautiful and she wished she could walk up behind him, like she had done many times before in this very room. She wished she could wrap her arms around him, just to feel him close. She wished to see the gentle side of him that he had shown her. Still, she knew better than to set herself up for failure. Fighting the tears that were burning her eyes and throat, she walked around the seating area and grabbed her wintercoat, her trendy tote and walked towards the door. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly as she looked back at him—part of her hoped that he would stop her, but he didn’t even turn around. Finally she let the tears fall. opened the door and walked out. 

She knew what she had to do, even if it hurt. Jenna knew she could not ignore the situation they were in and she needed to act. She was not some damsel in distress—even if she let him put her in that position for months now. It was time to change that and get back to who she truly was. 

Getting back to the apartment felt heavy. It would be the last time she viewed this space. Walking in she moved quickly, grabbing a trash bag from the cupboard underneath the sink. Moving through the place, she grabbed everything that was hers from before and put it in the bag. Part of her was angry that she’d tossed her old tattered travelbag, even though she knew it had been on his last legs years ago. She could’ve used it now. Instead the trash bag would have to do. She didn’t take anything that he’d given her.

She wasn’t left with much, but she hadn’t entered their arrangement with much either so it seemed only fair. Looking at her cheap wallet, all hers, she took out the money and cards that were his. She only kept a little money to help her move—promising to pay it back as soon as she was able. 

She wrote as much in the note she left him, along with much more mushy comments. She apologised for the destroying their house of cards, for ignoring their initial agreement and trying to make it more than it was. And when she was done, she placed her copies of the keys on the table and left. 

She repeated much of the process at her own place. Thankful that one of her old suitcases had not been thrown out yet. It was old and ugly, but it was all hers. She opened her laptop and devised an email to be let out of her lease and anything else that could keep her in this city. Then she booked a bus ticket for that evening and wrote another letter. A longer one this time, telling him to let her go. She couldn’t remain where her love wasn’t wanted. 

***

Five months later 

It had taken her a some time to find her bearings. A broken heart was tougher than she had imagined it to be. She hadn’t felt the energy to do much of anything. None of the activities that used to bring her joy, felt more like a chore now—shopping, going out with friends, it was all too much. 

Jenna did manage to get herself a proper office job, not unlike the one she had last year. It paid the bills and even restored her savings little by little. After two months she could move out of the motel she’d been staying at and into a small but modern studio apartment. She was lucky that the cost of living was lower in this city. 

Then last week, some of her co-workers even invited her out for after work drinks. She found out that her co-workers were actually pretty fun. So much so, that she was meeting them tonight as well. 

It was Friday evening and in about thirty minutes she would be able to close her computer, freshen up at home and meet them at the diner across from it. Afterwards, her and Stacy were having a drink at a local bar. Stacy had been the one to show her the ropes at work. She was bubbly, eager and fun-loving. She reminded her of Abigail. 

Jenna missed her friends and made a mental note to call them this weekend. When she first left, she’d postponed calling them for a full week. Despite knowing they’d worry. She was crying too much to talk. But, Abigail hadn’t been mad at her sudden disappearance. She also promised not to tell Sam or Bucky where she was. And just to be sure, Jenna hadn’t given her a precise address either. Now, they tried to talk weekly, but they’d missed each other last week. 

In the first few calls, Abigail had kept her informed of Bucky’s movements, but eventually Abigail had realised just how painful it was for Jenna. So she stopped mentioning him. She barely even spoke of Sam and Jenna was grateful for it. 

“Are you ready to go?” Stacy asked, interrupting Jenna’s pondering. 

“Just about,” she said. 

“I have to run to the store quickly, meet you at the diner?” Stacy offered and Jenna nodded in agreement. Turning back to her screen, Jenna quickly saved her work and closed the program. Time for the weekend to begin. 

***

It had taken him quite a few months to finally find her again. When Jenna had gone, she really wiped every trace of herself from him life. She hadn’t taken her phone or the creditcards. She didn’t rent anything in the city, hadn’t applied to any companies as far as he could tell. Finally he had to accept that she left town. That’s when the real work started and he hired a private investigator—telling himself that it was just to ascertain that she was alive and well. Bucky tried to convince himself that all he needed to know, was that she was fine. He told himself that if he found her, he would let it go. 

Instead, this Friday evening, he found himself standing on the street where she lived, watching her greet people in a diner. He realised that she had rebuilt her life, to create it much like the life she’d had before him. A life where he wasn’t footing the bill or having any say. Just as she had wanted from the start. 

He couldn’t even be bitter about the turn of events. He knew he had ruined it himself. She said she loved him and pulled up a wall. It’s what he had always done before. Though he hadn’t quite regretted it as much without anyone else. One month after she had left, Jenny had sent him a check for the money she had taken with her on her hasty departure. The money had been the last thing he wanted. He wanted her back. To tell her that he loved her too, that he’d just been too scared. 

He realised that even in his fear, he managed to make it all about him. Like a spoiled child, used to getting his way. He’d gotten so comfortable in his life. People rarely said no to him. Only Sam and Steve wouldn’t join the yes-sayers. In the last five months he had realised that this wasn’t enough. He needed to have more people opposing him, willing to be honest with him.

As he watched her sitting down in the booth with her friends, he noticed the bright smile on her face. One of the woman had stood to hug her before scooting in to make space in their booth. He couldn’t interrupt now. He wasn’t sure he could interrupt her life at all. 

She deserved to be happy. His heart broke as he stared a little longer, before finally hailing a taxi and leaving. It was time to let her go. 

Except, unbeknownst to him, Jenna had seen him get into the taxi. He didn’t see the mad dash she made from the diner or the single tear that slid down her cheek as she watched him drive away from her. 

It made the surprise that much bigger, when he got a knock on his door one week later. 

“Why didn’t come talk to me?” Jenna asked as soon as he opened the door. He looked a tad confused, so she added; “ I saw you last week.” 

Bucky didn’t know how to respond. He hadn’t expected her to see him, he’d been so careful. And he certainly hadn’t expected her to show up at his door. Jenna didn’t exactly know what she wanted him to say either. She’d gone back and forth all week in her mind, would she go see him? Would she keep her distance? What did she want? Had he changed his mind about what he wanted? 

Eventually Stacy had told her that she would never know, unless she asked him. And living with the doubt could easily become too much. So at the risk of ripping open old wounds, Jenna had books another busticket. This time in the opposite direction. 

“Well, are you going to say anything?” She asked.  

Unable to form any coherent sentence, Bucky did the only thing he could think off. The one thing he truly wanted—he stepped into the hall, his hand cradling her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss. Jenna smiled into the kiss and kissed him back happily. 

“I love you too,” Bucky said as he pulled back for a moment. 

“Well, it’s about time,” Jenna smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. 

[hiuythn]

"What do you think are x and y’s greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic?"

So, just found this kinda ask for various ships, I was thinking to ask you (one of my all time fav fics writer), if you don't mind and have free time, of course.

For your fav ships: Iwaoi, Klance, Kiribaku, Ranwan or Bingqiu (feel free to pick whichever you want to answer). 🌻🌷

I pick them all because Im physically incapable of shutting up:

iwaoi: greatest strengths gotta be their hard work, passion and drive. they're extraordinary in their mundanity, not to say their story is more boring compared to others, it's just more grounded in reality. they're good role models (despite oikawa constantly being voted no.1 anime villain of all time). individually, iwaizumi is just a Dependable Guy and I feel like all his juniors have intense admiration for him. I'm about to wax poetic but I can't seem to find a major weakness for him. if he had some sort of insecurity about not being able to go pro like oikawa (insecurities that are common in friends/rivals like reki/langa or klance), then I'd say that's a weakness, but instead iwaizumi had the sheer manliness to make a whole speech to oikawa on their walk home about how insanely proud he is and how he knows oikawa is gonna make it big. Dude literally is perfect I'm so biased i don't even care. maybe his feet stink or sth, idk.

oikawa on the other hand is so. he's so. he's my favourite little ball of complex emotions, dude feels so much and his desperation is so palpable in everything he does that it makes my molars ache like I'm about to bite down on something. on the surface he's an ikemen flirty guy with an unyielding sense of pride and a competitive streak 50 miles wide. He's the best setter and he knows it—but he also DOESN'T know it. he's so afraid of pausing for one second and getting overtaken by natural geniuses. so he won't stop. he keeps going, keeps eating volleyball up morning midday and night. it's that hunger that makes him such a formidable opponent. like baby you're so hungry I know you want to trample all these players under your feet and i feel like I have an alien infant that I'm panicking and rushing to feed it enough food. like I love him but he scares me a little. but he's also a testament to the indomitable human spirit in the fact that he wasn't gifted the talent that seems so prevalent in the people around him. he's on their level from willpower alone but he's STILL not satisfied. is this a weakness or a strength, is it both, can I even articulate my thoughts about him coherently???

klance: Keith why wasn't the world kinder to you. why did it take your mom and your dad and your brother and why did it trade you all that for your role as a protagonist, when I know you would've been content as a normal kid. Keith was drafted for the spotlight. he's cool, he's red and black, he's scowling and fights with knives and he's resourceful, resilient, he can survive off the land on any planet in any galaxy, he's a (lone) wolf and he's everything you could want in a character who's only concept is "You're strong, you're stronger alone, you're on your own." He's got the adaptability, the tenacity, the mindset, the spit-blood-out-of-my-mouth-and-hit-them-back-harder type thing. he's never relied on anyone to make it another day. isn't he so strong? but how could I laud him for it when it almost led him to self-sacrifice?

thinking back on Lance makes me so irritated. he was such a roiling, lashing tumble of growing pains and teenage insecurities. he has so many things going against him. you could say he was too loud, too joking but I wanted to watch him unravel himself. wanted to see him unspool and knit himself into a bigger tapestry than the show painted him as. isn't he a soldier drafted to a millennia-galaxy-spanning war? why are you telling me his only concern is still girls and romance, when he should be facing death and disappointment every time he gets into his lion and everytime he limps out of it after a battle thinking "am I even suited for this". why didn't I get to see him realize that Keith's strengths aren't his, that they don't NEED to be, that his own disregard for his own skills and constant need to acquire what others have, is what held him back from leaning into what he's good at? he's good at being water he's good at gluing and cooling and directing a blocked stream to find a way past this mountain. he had everything you could want in a right-hand man, had all the pieces laid out right there, but I never got to see it built up to the foundation it could've been.

kiribaku: there is not a single fic I have written about them that isn't obsessed with their flaws and strengths. it's all I think about constantly when it comes to them. how can there be a pairing that clicks together so easily like lock and key? what insightful thing can I saw abt them that I havent already written lyrical about in my fics, they make me so speechless. sometimes I'm afraid to look at kirishima head-on and sometimes I can't help basking in his warmth. he reminds me too much of the terrifying feeling of being left behind, of being mediocre. dont we all remember wanting to make a difference, wanting to stand out? he reminds me of all the things I used to be afraid of, seeing myself in his insecurities and wavering middle school presence, and the way he tries desperately to stuff that past under his bed. and yet, he's so warm. he's such a comfort. it puts me at ease, to see someone so familiar to my own hurts and fears manage to grow past what he used to be, that he could become almost unrecognizable in his brilliance. he's just a kid. he's just a boy, but he grew and cultivated his future self so painstakingly that I can't help but be proud and admire him for it. if you can't be a natural hero, homemade is fine too.

if I were to list all the strengths and weaknesses that bakugou embodies, we'd be stuck here until Luffy finds the One Piece. never have I seen a more baffling character. there's a reason he's been voted no. 1 in every single popularity poll held. he's so complex that sometimes he seems more real than myself. where he used to be callous and derisive, dismissive and self-centered, he's now pensive and self-reflective. he's still ambitious still driven but now he's opened up enough to utilize the connections he's built with others to achieve the best possible outcome, instead of believing that only he is worthy of results. he's lost his blinders, his self-focus, and he's all the better for it. he's not diminished or nicer or sweeter in any way, his sharp tongue and temper are still there, but still you can see that's he's grown so, so much.

ranwan: I want to tear my hair out when I think about chu wanning. surely, I agonize, he's the most pitiful character I know. and then I turn my head and mo ran is right there and then I scream and actually tear my hair out because he's suffered so much too and the thought of both chu wanning and mo ran's combined agony is enough to eclipse the Andromeda Galaxy. chu wanning...do I even need to go into his weaknesses when he already rips himself up for slights only he can perceive? "ugly, old, cold and rigid"??? the only rigid thing are his morals, too upright and sincere for the world he was made into, and nobody likes a nail that can't be hammered down. his sense of duty, his quiet care and attention, his intellect utilized for the common man—am I supposed to take his ascerbic tongue seriously as a weakness when his personal character is so...good? maybe his only fault is that he took every injustice too seriously. that he cared too much too young and when thrown into the world his Shizun didn't prepare him for, he was torn up until he turned cold just to save himself the disappointment. maybe his only fault was being too scared to open his mouth and ask for comfort, to make known his own humanity.

mo ran the world owed you everything and by god you took it. who am I to blame you. let the one without sin cast the first stone and all that. good intentions pave the road to hell and all that. you just wanted save your Shizun from a flower. why did the world take all your sweet consideration for itself, for its rain and its earthworms, and decide to put you in harm's way? you had the mind to thrive, to build a legacy and live well, and it made you turn all those strengths towards scorching the earth anew. you're so strong for trying to protect others, how could I call your mind weak for succumbing to years of induced violence? I can only call you strong for bearing 2 lifetimes of suffering.

bingqiu: Shen Yuan you motherfcker please stop embarrassing yourself stop making jokes when the situation is serious people are going to take you at face value and say you don't care about the people around you. you offer yourself on a platter to your would-be murderer to protect your sect and then die for your murderer to make him happy (???) and you'll call that nothing. you'll put no worth in it while your people cry over your corpse. how are you going to treat them with unrelenting cheer and care, then turn around and assume they'll continue on their predetermined path as novel characters, how could u be so kind and so cruel, to both love them and disregard them like that? how do you manage to not see them at all Shen Yuan do you mean to hurt your loved ones when you don't hold them accountable for their actions, when you don't see their actions as their own but just the will of the system just because they're novel characters because they don't know that they're all scripted Shen Yuan how can you look at these people and their earnest pleading to keep yourself safe and say that they're predetermined cannon fodder Shen Yuan please won't you just look at them for once??

binghe (bing-ge)? well there's nothing wrong with him. don't you know he's the protagonist? don't you know he's unbeatable. he's handsome and strong and smart and merciful and every wrong he commits is just to right a slight made against him. it's only fair. it's only what he was taught. if he can't be given something, he'll just take it. he will take everything he wants. see, if he's kind and sweet, if he sticks to what his mother taught him, if he stays filial and loyal, eager to learn and help—what does that get him? nothing. whether his Shizun whips him or treats him with care, in every world he gets nothing. so he should take it instead, should exchange his steadfast dedication for a relentless pursuit, his painstaking attention to care for a exacting manipulation of every situation. maybe then he'll achieve something worth his suffering. maybe then he'll be able to say that it wasn't him, that the problem wasn't him, that there's nothing wrong with him at all.

[silviawordsworth]

A comprehensive reason as to why I, as a teenage girl, think the marauders fandom is heaven on earth. (+ a few faults)

In simple terms, its a pit of representation. The characters, even the ones mentioned more than just a name drop, have very little known information about them. Like yes, we know remus lupin marries tonks and we know james marries lily, but besides that? They were teenagers at hogwarts, its fun to play around with the dynamics of them.

And its also a passion project. The marauders is by no means an actual thing. Sure, theyre side characters in hp. But the marauders fandom is created solely on headcanons and fanon info. Its almost like if i were to pull finnick and annie from thg and develop them with such depth that it contextualises things that couldve been explained better in the actual books.

And not only that, but it shows creativity. Its like weve all taken these characters, aged them down to make them more relatable, and projected our own teenage experiences onto them in a way that jk could never as she wrote them as an adult and likely has never experienced the struggles of the lgbtq teens nowadays

The lgbtq is also a good point to bring up. Nowhere anywhere else on the internet will you find a fandom so full of lgbtq characters solely bc 'it doesnt sell'. The marauders is a prime example of how marketing realistic teenagers to teenagers is not unprofitable.

Mental health is also a big thing that needs to be explored more in media. And not as the main plot, but as something that just exists. Its done well in the marauders fandom.

Usually when watching a show or reading a book, you think these characters arent that realistic. In their world, sure. But its hard to relate to characters who link nothing to you. The marauders, though wizards, are teenagers in school. They are relatable.

Also the ability to create everything out of nothing. I adore pandora rosier and regulus black but in canon they are never even shown in the movies besides reg.

The poc inclusivity, the non skinny inclusivity, etc etc.

However! There are issues.

The marauders fandom is primarily girls, yet this fandom is an excellent example of the preference that male characters get. Like, i love regulus. But pray tell why jegulus gets more hype than pretty much any wlw ships combined? And why do i see so much of lily being a surrogate or her dying and james and reg getting harry? If youre gonna cut lily out of james life for him to be w reg, atleast find another way for them to have a kid. Lily is more than her uterus and a plot device for a kid.

And theres also sm arguments over headcanons. Like, if i were to say i hc james potter as straight, i would get attacked in todays fandom. It just gets a bit strange sometimes when people disregard canon at all. I get the seperation of canon from fanon is definitely inevitable in this fandom, but i dislike when people push their hcs as canon when its literally contradicted by canon.

I love the marauders fandom i do, and i love the way the characters are developed enough to be interesting to everyone, and not just babied down enough to be advertised to kids. Theres so much you can do when you dont have to worry about pr.

Anyways, thanks for listening to my rant. Please feel free to reblog w any questions or comments, il respond to everyone x

[estelle-skully]

Pokemon Oc (trainersona)

this fucker 😾😾😾/pos

This is Aura!! Any pronouns for this homosapien

they are definitely not a self insert oc pfffff thats so gay (lie)

More info under the cut

Yayayayayayayay

they are, like 99.9 percent of my other fandom characters, pan/ace and don’t have a label for xer gender

Aura is 24 years old (old enough to drink!!!!!!! Aauughhhh!!!!)

because my ahh would have lots of pokemon, i had to curse this character with a massive fucking team (its okay they are all well taken care of and loved equally)

The team in question:

Fable the lucario (female) (Aura’s partner!! Also strangely tall for her kind…)

Mars the eevee (male) (does not know what to evolve into)

Grug the bombirdier (female) (girls girl, also one of the best battlers on the team)

Hotdog4000 the tinkaton (female) (her favorite move is gigaton hammer)

Blister the houndoom (male) (has really bad aim and tends to miss his opponents with fire attacks, but when he does hit them it deals lots of damage ((we’re working on that)))

Basil the meowscarada (male) (very flamboyant and loves attention)

Zaza the espathra (female) (low key a bitch!! Stubborn as hell and was super difficult to train)

Flick the raichu (male) (evil electric mouse)

Sprite the mimikyu (idk) (shy little lad, probably shiny but its hard to tell)

Ruckus the lycanrock (male) (midnight form, LOUD AS FUCK)

OBCD the pidove (male) (very fat)

Echo the noivern (male) (big baby)

Daze the hypno (probably male) (shiny! Very cunty for a hypno)

and where does Aura store all their pokeballs, you may ask? Uhh either with the magic of hammerspace or she only carries around a team of six at a time. It’s up to ur interpretation idc

another important thing!!!!!1! This character is shipped with Larry ‼️‼️😼 they’re based off pokemon scarlet (or horizons) so the characters he interacts with are from the game n show

here is a very professional drawing of their dynamic

Sad+basic+overworked guy x autistic+energetic+sillay queer 🔥🔥🔥

and for uh. Tword stuff. Herm 😰 Aura is a switch and wrecks Larry (a lee) all the time 😼😼😼🫶

they are so organic

😎

[lavender-long-stories]

Master List in AO3 Popularity Order

And a collection of thoughts from my brain under the cut.

Lavender Memories [SasuHina]

Wheels [SasuHina]

What He Left Behind [SasuHina]

Testing Success [SasuHina]

Lavender Sand [GaaHina]

Lavender Clouds [SasuHina]

Lavender Umbrellas [KisaHina]

Death Wishes [ItaHina]

I Will Love You [SasuHina]

Bread and Tea [SasuHina]

FF | AO3

~Always a Happy Ending~ ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ It's always so interesting to see what the audience likes the most. I think what wins out is domestic fluff, which is great because I love to write so I will write more for you. >w<

Lavender Memories has always been the core favorite, and it does hold a special place in my heart. (Though uploading the flashbacks in italics is a massive pain in the ass) I really wish I could make reverse Memories work (with Sasuke losing his memories instead). If anyone wants to comment/dm/asks me for ideas to make that work without Sasuke being toxic that I will take suggestions. Every time I have tried to write it, Sasuke just ends up pissing me off.

Wheels was just pure fluff and sweet scenes in my heart, and I didn't want it to end, but there is only so far I can go with stories with no real angst to drive the plot. I am completely open to writing bonus chapters for it, again, toss suggestions my way of what you want to see.

What He Left Behind is weird for me because it's always a struggle when I have a well-liked character as an antagonist because I am not a fan of people bashing the characters in the comments even when the character is doing something wrong, but this story needed Naruto to walk out for the concept to work. I appreciate that people like it, but I am not sure I will do something divorce based ever again. Writing Sasuke a green flag, I will do again, though.

Testing Success has been compared to a K-Drama on more than one occasion, and I am *here* for it. Though the amount of people shipping Fugaku with Hinata really tells me I need to write an ItaHina or SasuHina with a CEO x Assistant relationship because it's clearly wanted. Probably an ItaHina because of how many people were shipping ItaHina hard before Sasuke showed up. I have a bad habit of making side characters have good relationships with one of my main couple of characters and then making a whole new fic on that dynamic. 💀💀💀 Don't worry, I ship it too >.<

Lavender Sand, my GaaHina baby. I love how awkward Gaara is, and this fic has some of my favorite scenes. I have always wanted to make more GaaHina, but it's hard to not rehash a lot of what I did here. I am currently working on another GaaHina that should have a different enough setup that it won't just be Sand 2 - The Remake.

Lavender Clouds was my first ever fic T-T. It recently underwent a massive overhaul (wow, I was bad at writing). Looking back now, I think that I should have made the end game couple different. SasuHina was my thing at the time, but I made so many wonderful side ships in this story (that have been the bases of my new stories, so win-win), but I were to do it again today, the end ship would have probably been SasoHina, and I would have probably leaned a lot more into the initial ItaHina that was happening. Would anyone be interested in me releasing a SasoHina 'what could have been' side story? I am working on more unreleased Akatsuki member x Hinata stories right now. 👀👀👀 (SasoHina, HidaHina, more ItaHina)

Writing Lavender Umbrellas makes my face hurt from smiling so much. I love the dynamic Kisame and Hinata have, and I love how their personalities mesh. Height difference tropes and big scary boi with small sweet girl tropes have my whole heart. Having the Akatsuki as a bunch of teenagers makes for endlessly entertaining scenes. This story is so much cute fluff I never want it to end.

Death Wishes is darker than I initially meant it to be (I say as a story about a girl who is being followed around by death), but it feels oddly comfy to me, and I want to make so many more ItaHina fics, but I always come up for ideas for SasuHina instead >.<. I think Itachi is just too kind for me to have enough drama to keep stories going. More ItaHina to come, though. (That ItaHina office AU has to happen at some point)

I Will Love You - the new one. This is a fun concept I am excited to explore. I am going to try to make it not cross too many paths with Testing Success. The idea of Sasuke's actions being constantly unclear, how much he's playing it up, and how much he means will be fun. It will make the point of where the relationship slides from fake to real a fun find, especially on a second read.

Bread and Tea is proof that even in a one-shot, I can't just let the characters have happy lives. A good friend @nikandrros said it best that she opens it up and thinks, "How is Lavender going to torture Hinata in her new story?" but I always promise a happy ending, and it's all the sweeter with a little bit of painful backstory. I have had requests to continue this one shot, and I will leave that open to do one day, but I have no plans at the moment.

Alright, end of keyboard mash. Have a good day, read a good ship, and thank you for all the support! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

More fic to come!

[carphoegras]

I don’t ship most of these myself , but your rant/ramble posts on Les Mis ships are funny so I genuinely wanted your opinion on these 👁

1. Enjoltaire

2. Valvert

3. Enjonine

4. Marisette (or whatever Marius x Cosette was called)

5. Javonine (Javert and…Eponine 😭)

6. Marionine (A name a just guessed for Marius x Eponine because I wasn’t bothered to look it up)

7. and uhhh.. Granjonine (I think that was the name)

well hello darling! i live to entertain lol lets get into it i might have to put this under a cut because i think its obvious i have a rambling issue

Enjoltaire : a classic for good reason. they seemed really base level to me at first because i watched the movie first, but once i read the brick and really saw their dynamic i fell for them HARD. for me the beauty of this pairing is really rooted in the substance of their individual characters as opposed to like a romantic relationship. idk its so difficult for me to verbalize why i love them so much i think i just love the idea of finding common ground despite difficulties. enjolras and grantaire mirror each other in such a beautiful way that i feel the musical/movie couldn't really capture without demoting it to a puppy love grantaire/mean enjolras dynamic idk i have such an issue with some portrayals of them because i feel like they create a victim/abuser situation where there wasn't one but that's like a whole post within itself anyway i feel like im getting incoherent i love exr with every fiber of my fucking being just read the brick if you don't get it ok the movie and musical just dont do it justice and for the love of god avoid the fics written in 2012/2013 after the movie hype its all wRONGGGG (i love you george blagden but you created a twink grantaire movement) (they pull each others pigtails okay its a mutual obsession) (enjolras why don't you just ignore him baby? glutton for punishment my dear we all know if you hated him you wouldn't let him hang around) (anyway) i should make a seperate post about my exr feelings bc i could talk ab them for hours

2. Valvert: okay this is where i feel like i can be unpopular with the fandom. i fucking hate this ship. like physically, spiritually, all that. its one of those that i kinda lose respect for the person bc its literally a cop/prisoner thing. its not enemies to lovers. its not a hate love thing. javert's a fucking cop. valjean is his victim. the whole idea of people romanticizing this makes me feel so insanely icky and i think the point of the story has just gone RIGHT over some folks' heads please take a step back and think about it. neolib behavior sorry not sorry

3. Enjonine: enjolras is gay. just like, straight up in the brick enjolras is a gay man. this ship is spawned from straight girls who saw aaron tveit and use eponine as their not like other girls posterchild. just a whole bunch of hetero nonsense. same behavior as the joseph quinn enj x reader bs. honey thats a homosexual man and can we please stop reducing eponine to needing a boyfriend she needs a stable home and a goddamn therapist fucking hell

4. Marisette: okay. i LOVE THEM. i'm a cosette stan myself, and i'm a huge fan of a gooey love at first sight situation. they contrast my love for exr in the sense that they're a very easy love. their parts in the book literally make me SWOOOOOON i can put aside my beef with marius as a combeferre kin to appreciate how sweet they are

5. Javonine??: im sorry wh aht. did the snape x hermione shippers leak into the lm fandom or am i being fucking punked im not discussing this its obvious why this is wrong please tell me its obvious y'all are NASTY

6. Marionine: eh. eh. i mean, like i said with enjonine eponine's problems are not gonna be solved with a dude. i'm really not opposed to them, persay, its just that eponine's love for marius is so incredibly dependent and rooted more in her personal trauma than actual love, so i feel a little weird with them sometimes. sometimes it just gives anti cosette vibes (cough cough bc of the bullshit love triangle angle that the musical markets cough cough) so i tread very carefully with them

7. Granjonine: again what in the damn hell. i'm not dignifying this shit they could be besties but for the love of god george blagden did a number on the straight girls. STOP PROJECTING ONTO EPONINE IM GONNA LOSE MY FUCKING MIND LEAVE HER ALONE

thanks for the ask lovely, i do love rambling even though these ships are baffling lmaoooo

[thegamingmonk]

Goldilocks (Puss in Boots) x Little Red Riding Hood Headcanons

I am cringe, but I am free. Have to remember that! Yeah I made a Puss in Boots oc, yes it’s Little Red Riding Hood, yes I ship her with Goldilocks. I hopped on the Goldilocks x oc ship. I find them cute though! 

Tags: Canon x oc, fluff, crime, physical affection, family dynamic, kissing, couple stuff.

Warnings: Crimes, otherwise none!

Notes: For reference - Little Red Riding Hood here owns a shop stand called "The Mystery Basket" where she sells general items, trinkets and "then some" for customers all alike, including criminals. My voice claim for her is Tessa Thompson (or Keke Palmer, I can’t decide).

They met when the Bear Crime Family needed information on their next big hit; Red was their information broker.

Red was busy haggling with a customer when the family needed her. Just 200 gold for this once-in-a-lifetime item? A bottle with an actual fairy doesn't come cheap or easy!

Little to say, Red was not surprised to get a visit from the family.

In fact, she was excited for the moment. The family is notorious, which means they have good money; and a cute daughter.

Not Goldilocks' proudest moment when she admits, this red hood girl was actually very pretty-

Goldilocks kind of fell a bit hard at first sight, which she covers up with playful flirting. Luckily for her, Red is all for playful bantering, so there was a lot of back and forth between them.

Red grows fond of the Bear family and their antics; she considers them her best customers, especially with their business trade regarding their pie business.

Red would only see Goldilocks when the family came for information until Goldilocks started coming to see her just for "other things".

"Oh, what other things pray tell?" "Who knows, that beautiful smile of yours may be one of em."

It's a mutual down-badness: Red likes Goldilocks' straightforwardness and voice, while Goldilocks likes Red's smile and snarkiness.

Goldi only tells Mama and Papa bear as Baby would never let her down for it; unfortunately, he connects the dots faster than she'd expect anyways.

Mama and Papa are excited for Goldilocks, but of course as parents do, overprotectiveness will happen.

Despite Goldi's forwardness and Red's openness, neither asks each other out for a while. Instead the gap is filled with longing gazes and playful flirting.

Eventually it takes Baby getting annoyed enough to bother Goldi about it that Goldilocks decides to take the shot.

Goldilocks ask Papa and Mama for all the advice she can, but while they insist that Goldi is perfectly fine just asking Red, Goldilocks wants to make sure the confession is just right.

Red is the one who officially asks Goldilocks out though. Mostly because the suave Goldilocks is a bumbling mess in love and couldn't get the question out without stuttering. So much for that!

First date was a picnic that got crashed by Baby; needless to say, Red found it hilarious and Goldilocks nearly caught a case.

Goldilocks is BIG on affection - a bear full of love.

Anytime she can have Red in her arms, best believe she will. She’s a cuddle bug.

Red’s thing is firmly attaching lips to Goldilock’s face.

Her favorite thing to do is kiss Goldi on the cheek unprompted, it catches the bear child off guard so badly and makes her bluescreen.

Absolutely NO ONE is allowed to touch Red's hood except for her mother and grandmother, but she started making exceptions for Goldi.

Especially considering her girlfriend looked really good in her hood.

Red calls Goldi "Sugarpie" and it makes the bear child MELT every time.

Whenever the Bear crime family goes out on a gig, Red has the strangest feeling she should go over to their cottage and see if they need help with any wounds.

Newsflash: she's right.

The family appreciates her for it and Goldi falls in love all over again.

They wear each other's shirts. No elaboration.

Red insists on helping Goldilocks brush her hair after a mishap that ended up with leaves and branches stuck in her buns.

Goldilocks doesn't brush her hair often nor lets anyone else (maybe Mama), but she'd humor Red this time. It took a bit but Red got to the rhythm of brushing the gold hair.

"Babe. B-Babe. Ba- Ah! Too hard!" "Sorry sorry!! So many tangles you have…"

"... Love, that's too soft. You're goin' to have to brush harder than that." "Ah, heard! So much hair you have…"

"There we go, now that is just right." "Hmm… What soft, pretty hair you have…” "What?" "What."

Their cuddle sessions last for much longer than they should, but what can they say? They’re attached to one another.

Anytime Red steals something to sell at her shop, she always asks herself “But would Goldi like it instead?” She’d rob a whole castle for her girlfriend.

Sometimes Red will just stare at Goldi with the biggest heart eyes and swoon over her.

“What big, beautiful blue eyes you have... What pretty, golden hair you have... What soft, plush lips you have...” “Are you goin’ to shut up and kiss me or what?” “Wow, way to ruin atmosphere, sugarpie.”

Ah, the wonders of young, fairytale love~

This is the first time I write a canon character in a mostly not shit-posting way so hopefully this goes well? Hope y’all enjoy my mess! I love these two goobers and maybe will finish the story I’m writing of them! Likes and Retweets are always welcomed (and very appreciated~) and that’s all for now!

[jihyocentric]

hi lumi so this is just an ask but i wanted to hear ur thoughts on jichaeng?? i hardly see them together but theyre actually my top 2 biases in twice and i just love when i get fed crumbs lskdfjslkd

but yeah!! sfw, nsfw, whatever u want, just curious abt what u think!!

-🐶

pup anon now that you're talking about it, i don't get any chaeyoung, dahyun or tzuyu (except for jitzu) asks/requests at all.. this is just sad 😭 i think there's not many smc stans that follow me, this must be why!

okay now it's jichaeng time! when i think about jichaeng the first thing that comes to my mind is this video. i just had to share it bc i love the way jihyo looks at chaeyoung... tender and apologetic. her eyes are so pretty too!

sfw wise what i like the most about them is that chaeyoung loves to compliment people. she's loving and warm and i think jihyo appreciates it, like when chaeyoung talked about how pretty jihyo's shoulders are or when she touches jihyo randomly and gives her a compliment!

i think that other than nayeon, sana and jeongyeon (surprisingly), chaeyoung might be the one that compliments jihyo the most. i don't even need to say anything about how much jihyo needs them, right?! and chaeyoung is such a softie... she has such thoughtful things to say about jihyo 🥺

but also the rich milf x younger girl who's a broke ass college student or even a dropout is what i usually see for them, i'm sorry 😭 they're really different and these kinds of tropes is what i relate them to the most

but it's not like the sugarmommy!hyo (jitzu au) dynamic because in my mind jihyo wanted tzuyu first and then they got together. i think chaeyoung would have a hard time trying to pull jihyo. i just love the idea of little gay girl chaeyoung chasing around milfs (like nayeon, sana, mina... but it's jichaeng time so let's talk about jichaeng!!)

i like to think about jihyo accepting to get laid with chaeyoung sometimes to blow off some steam but at the same time not really treating chaeyoung like an actual potential partner. kind of angsty, but i think it would really go this way, until jihyo realizes she might have feelings towards chaeyoung... but that would take a while. and it could cost a broken heart if she takes too long.

as idols, i feel like it would go the same way, except for the angsty part! nsfw wise, chaeyoung is a service top for jihyo. there's no other way i can picture it really... i'm so convinced chaeyoung would love to serve her. it's kind of the same way i see jihyo being a service top for nayeon.

i totally see chaeyoung sleeping around in jihyo's dorm sometimes just because she wants to touch her or if she needs some cuddles. they're not the pda type of couple, so when they do have time for themselves i bet chaeyoung loves spending them between jihyo's thighs or just spooning her really (and ofc jihyo is the big spoon. chaeyoung is her baby, no matter how many times she came on her fingers!)

i bet chaeyoung would spend hours talking about the things she likes or new things she learned and jihyo would listen attentively because she loves it when chaeyoung gets excited about something. that's the best part about them being different. they can talk about a lot of different stuff because they don't share the same taste in most things! it's good to hear chaeyoung talking because her voice is sweet and jihyo can sleep easily when she hears it, especially when she has insomnia :(

overall any ships involving chaeyoung to me are soft because she IS soft! i love the fact that her love language is giving presents, praising the ones she loves and touching them. she's the babiest in twice and no one can change my mind on that 🥹

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOO AIKULATIONS I’m adding that term to my dictionary now it’s so funny

PLEASEDE I CANT WITH THE CALLIGRAPHY THE VIBES I’m ngl I thought you typed it on canva or something your calligraphy SLAYS but BAROU IN THE CORNER I’m screaming the way I can hear that tiktok audio in my mind too and the “(not from Team X)” USHAHSH reuniclus holds the pen while Nagi psychically conveys his vision of the design…alternatively imagine they just pull up like an e-card/invite site and choose one of the happy bday templates and mass send it in crying (considering Nagi’s whipped I don’t think he’d be this bad though but it’s still funny)

We need more Mira diagrams/doodles/visuals I’m actually living for these screw the piccrew generators if you ever think of more character designs I think your drawings are the way to go

THE KARASUYN AUDIO BROOOO the parallels are so strong it’s giving love parallelogram also WAIT IS THAT JOW BREEDING WORKS??? No fucking way no wonder I was getting the wrong pokemon when I bred shit I was not aware that the egg follows the mother wtf but Karasu foster parent taking care of a little pichu goodbye….also wait on that note of Karasu taking care of cute baby pokemon for whatever reason I get very strong munna vibes from him…..idk why but just imagine him taking care of like a crying munna idk but Karasu being on call with otoya of all people is so funny he’s just flaming him for another L (classic otoya)

SHSGSHS bruh that would’ve been me LMAOO that’s literally my blank bare bones account because I know I don’t do shit with it but maybe someday…….

If they just referenced back to the team z va team v match and looked at zantetsu and chigiris interactions there’s like three instances of chigiri being like “don’t call me princess” alone between the two of them like guys….

Im ready for the monster don’t worry *alpha wolf meme* but FRRRR non fanon chigiri>>>>> WAIT NO FR LETS TALK ABOJT IT THAT SCENE HAD ME ON MY KNEES he literally saved Isagi from a one way visit to the hospital and basically his soccer career by that logical omgggg chigiri pulling him out of the way of shidous kick did something to me

You fr found the bllk flow of workout routines LOL not too hard but challenging enough to actually have an effect and actually you’re right unless your Nagi LMAO he probably also cleans up his gear perfectly and wipes everything back down properly too SHSGSHS KARASU atp I don’t want to do anything productive around him it’s like he’s backseat driving but for EVERYTHING LMAOO he definitely knows what he’s doing at the gym though those muscles>>>

AHSSGHA Nagi’s commentary always goes hard but circling back to the chigiri convo imagine they took Nagi’s comment like they did with people calling chigiri princess like imagine people actually fanonized Barou into a stripper

I know Hiori probably talks shit in a call of duty lobby when someone purposely insults him (I can’t imagine him doing it to someone innocent or just kinda bad but if someone picks a fight they’re about to get bullied) (I also don’t play call of duty but from what I’ve seen I imagine this is correct) WB HIORI WB is just that girl WB saving lives…lowk it’s interesting how even the canon itself kinda separated hioris personality into sections because we have that divide between him with his friends and him with his parents and then him post awakening!! Lowk I love fwtkac Hiori too truly THE adopted son LMAOOO but WAITTTTT YOURE COOKING SIDE STORY INSERT SPINOFFS wait….lowk….if it floats your boat…do it………..I need those spin offs….karasu especially to quell the swerving OMFGGGG fwtkac pokemon au it’s literally them rivals to lovers (coming full circle guys yk sometimes i forget im the one who requested that) LAMFOSOA YUKI THE OPP AGAIN do it actually gotta keep it consistent yk

TABIORI LMAOO fr the same person yup yup yeah I don’t ship either but I LOVE their dynamic so i inadvertently end up consuming ship art at some point or another anyways because I like seeing them interacting shshsjsns (also because like half the art out there in general is some form of ship content LOL)

Also WAIT I FORGOT TO MENTION about to your poll I would say yes but really only in terms of length but even then it’s kinda hard? Like 7.9k is already a pretty hefty fic generally im just comparing it to bfb Karasu which I guess should also be kinda an outlier….the ones that stand out the most are the Isagi ones ofc length wise but you’d only be able to tell if you went and compared via your masterlist because 1k is also already really good for a fic (I’ve been Mira recalibrated)….writing wise the quality feels the same to me like you’re always serving…if I had to say something about the actual content is stylistically (?) sometimes I feel those stories lean more towards open ends? But that also kinda ties into wc because more wc means more development LOL I think if someone were to just come and read they wouldn’t feel a difference though Ive just been through your entire masterlist so I feel like im kinda biased in a way LMAO

- Karasu anon

AIKULATIONS 6:9 thou shalt never have only one girlfriend at a time…LMAOAOAOA i love combining the word “revelations” with other stuff for things like that i find it so funny

HAHAH THANK YOU i’ll take any chance to throw in some calligraphy…the barou in the corner is the best part originally i just had it as a :( but then i had a vision and i had to do it KDFHISJDJS nagi ensuring that no former team x members show up fr 😩 HELP because he and reuniclus genuinely think this cooks like they’re dapping each other up like damn we went off w this on ‼️ and then they show it to reo or karasu who are just like man what the hell 😭

HAHA do i just start dropping a visual and an edit every single time i respond to an ask of yours…okay here’s a random diagram i did of mc and tullia (reader had the headband) when we were talking about the girls in bllk au and one of shinah that’s part of a larger “reddit aita” style drawing LMAOAOAO i’ll make more pursuit content soon though trust this is just to tide you over

^ i hope you know which sound mc is referring to with kainess BFJSDJKS also the “don’t disrespect soccer” scene HAHAHAHA

nah because atp just make barou and yayoi exes or smth who even cares LMAOAOA and yes iirc that’s how it works?? unless it’s a ditto obviously in which case it’s just whatever normal pokémon it’s bred with…omg wait karasu taking care of a baby munna is so real OR HEAR ME OUT a baby kangaskhan whose mother died in the safari zone so hiori sends it over to karasu until it’s old enough to survive on its own?? HELP let’s be real who else would he be talking to…it’s either him flaming otoya for taking an L or it’s him talking to reader and GETTING flamed

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYINGGG LIKE CHIGIRI TWEAKS OUT OVER IT KDJFJDSJ pretty sure the only reason he doesn’t get mad at nagi karasu or otoya for it is because they’re so mean they’ll just say something worse if he tells him to stop 😭 okay wait do you know that “these divas…” meme why is it lowkey karasu and otoya HAAHHA

i fully agree the way he looks so pissed off after saving isagi’s life too omg chigiri manhandle me next fr ‼️ jkjk ofc

HAHAHA no barou is def horrible to train with if you’re a guy especially one of his teammates but if you’re dating him he’d be cool!! KARASU THOUGH he def has a side commentary running at all times like you breathe and he’s just like “interesting way of inhaling y/n” bro shut up?????????? but that one panel of him in pxg with the back arch (do you know what i’m referring to) his legs are glorious…and his BACK in EVERY SINGLE PANEL PLEASEEE that’s why i was saying it’s lowkey insane that barou makes him look skinny because he’s literally so jacked compared to 99% of blue lockers (aka everyone but barou and kunigami) like i would say he’s on the same level of muscular as reo and yuki where they don’t look crazy huge at first glance but then when you look again you’re like DAMN

one thing about nagi he WILL be coming up with a nickname…PLEASEEE fanon barou has to pay the bills somehow /j 😩

hiori is def the friend who’s super sweet but as soon as you provoke them they whip out a level 7 crash out with insults you’ve never even HEARD of 😭 white butterfly hiori my goat…i agree he def has many sides/aspects to his personality which is rlly cool!! AGREED FWTKAC INVENTED SON ENERGY he’s so cute love how he took the time to get his divorced parents (reader and karasu) together bro fr said if my ACTUAL parents are going to stay married then you two better start dating too

LMAOOO wait it’s even funnier because that’ll mean yuki is both otoya AND karasu’s opp then 😭 bro is just chilling and hanging out w chris prince he does NOT want anything to do with them!! fwtkac in the pokémon verse truly full circle indeed…wait does this mean fwtkac bestie pulls up too and gets with otoya…😳

that’s me with nagireo bro i don’t care abt the ship but if you look for nagi content it WILL be nagireo 😢 so i’ve gotten used to ignoring it for the sake of the edit/fanart/whatever JDJFJEJD okay meme one this has me dying 😭😭😭 reo looks so handsome though!! and an edit of tabieitaken’s resident opp

LMAOO see that’s what i was thinking like it’s very obvious which characters i DO like such as karasu and nagi but if you’re just casually reading seabird for example you’re hopefully not going to assume that i don’t like sae based on it yk?? also for the isagi ones since those are the shortest IN MY DEFENSE they had very hyper specific prompts so there wasn’t much to elaborate on yk?? like if somebody said “give me an isagi fic” or was like “write an isagi coffee shop au” for example i’d probably write smth much longer 🤔 but yeah bfb karasu is def an outlier most of my one shots are in then 5-12k range which sae, kaiser, hiori, and rin all fall into…actually another thing i was wondering is like for the people who voted yes who do they think my opps are yk?? like what if they just said yes because they don’t even realize i don’t fw the itoshis like that for example 😓 anyways the poll just finished and the “no” option won out so ig that’s good!! LMAOO i mostly just feel bad when people make reqs for characters i’m not into and then i wonder if they think i hate them as a person or smth yk (mira wc recalibration def plays a role i think seabird would be considered crazily long on any other masterlist but putting it against bfb karasu is kind of unfair 😭)

[violetswritingg]

Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

12

MOUNT JUSTICE

August 19, 19:39 EDT

"Initiate combat training." The computer's monotone voice assistant spoke over the intercoms, counting down from three. Goldfinch, Miss Martian, and Artemis standing off to the side as Kaldur and Superboy go at it in the lit up ring.

"Kaldur's nice, don't you think?" Artemis asked coyly, looking at M'gann out of the corner of her eye. Kate's eyebrows scrunching in confusion at the seemingly random question. "Handsome, commanding... You should totally ask him out."

"He's like a big brother to me," M'gann denied, "But you know who would make the cutest couple? You and Wally." Kate wanted to be anywhere else right now but she could see it. The whole opposites attract thing. Like something out of a book, or movie.

She didn't hate boy talk, it's just something she has zero experience in and therefore would prefer to not do it. But just because she didn't want to be here doesn't mean she didn't appreciate romance; she was still silently rooting for Superboy and M'gann to become a thing.

The three girls all turned to look at the speedster standing a couple feet away, practically inhaling a burrito, "You're so full of passion, and he's so full of..." The Martian trailed off awkwardly.

"It?" Artemis asked with a smirk, the three sharing a look before laughing. Kate had been working to actually see Artemis as a part of the Team and Arrow family, per Dinah's request and multiple occasions of meddling to get them to hang out outside of training and the cave.

"On the topic of cute couples, how about Kate and Robin?" Artemis asked slyly, raising an eyebrow at the songbird of the group. Watching her cheeks turn a baby pink as she blushed and recoiled like she had been burned.

"What are you talking about. We're friends-"

"Friends don't go on ice cream dates after school, or constantly check in on each other just because they want to talk." Kate hated that Artemis had overheard that conversation.

"That was not a date, and friends talk all the time." Kate defended herself, her cheeks growing redder as she was knocked off kilter emotionally and mentally at the insinuation.

"That's adorable!" M'gann awed, "Honestly, anyone could see how much you two like each other."

"Oh my gosh, their ship name could be Songbird." Artemis added on enthusiastically, mainly just to see Kate's reaction, but also finding the thing going on between the youngest members of the team sickeningly adorable and just wants them to admit they like each other so they would stop making her feel lonely.

Before Kate could shut down the older girls' completely insane thoughts the computer's voice assistant's monotone filled the room again.

"FAIL: Aqualad."

"Black Canary taught me that." Superboy proudly said as he stood over Kaldur with a grin. Kate fought off the green eyed monster that wanted to rage over anyone spending time with Dinah that way, she was also working on sharing. It was still a work in progress.

Red Tornado came down from his apartment and landed in front of the Atlantean and Kryptonian clone, turning away but being stopped by an overeager Wally who sped in front of him, asking if the android had a mission for them.

"Missions are the Batman's responsibility."

"Yeah, well, the Batman is with the Robin doing the dynamic duo thing in Gotham," Wally said, Artemis nudged Kate with her elbow lightly at the mention of, just to annoy the younger blonde. It worked. "But you're going somewhere right? Hot date? Or-or a mission?"

"If we can be of help." Aqualad offers more maturely than the speedster. Red Tornado opening a holo-screen with a picture of an older man with grey hair and a cane.

"This is Kent Nelson, a friend. He is one hundred and six years old." RT says.

"Guy doesn't look a day over ninety." Wally whispers to Kate and Artemis.

"And he has been missing for twenty-three days. Kent was a charter member of the Justice Society, the precursor to your mentors Justice League." Kent Nelson's picture changed into a picture of some guy in a golden helmet. Goldfinch had no idea who he was, but Kaldur seemed to have the answer.

"Of course, Nelson was earth's sorcerer supreme. He was Doctor Fate." That name rung a bell for Kate, she remembers one of the boys in one of the many group homes she had been in being obsessed with the Justice League before the Justice League. Specifically, Doctor Fate and his mystical abilities. The only reason she even remembered was because he was so annoying about it, it was the only thing he would talk about.

"More like Doctor Fake, guy knows a little advanced science and 'Dumbledore's' it up to scare the bad guys and impress the babes." Wally whispered again, sounding so sure.

"Kent may simply be on one of his walk abouts, but he is care taker of the Helmet of Fate. The source of the Doctor's mystic might and it is unwise to leave such power unguarded." Red Tornado says, Kate wasn't totally on board with the whole 'magic is real' thing just yet, mainly because she hadn't seen it with her own eyes and she wasn't a person that held a lot of blind faith (none actually). But she wasn't going to pull a Wally and just shoot it down completely. But as it stood, she could only really think about magic in the terms that it was something in the books she read and not something in real life.

"He's just like the great sorcerer priests and priestesses of Mars. I would be honored to find him." M'gann says admirably, probably happy to find some familiarity to home on Earth. Her response had Wally changing his tune real quick.

"Me too! Sooo honored, I can barely stand it. Magic rocks." Wally did cheesy 'rock n roll' hands, making Kate roll her eyes, equally annoyed and amused with Wally's usual antics of trying to get M'ganns' attention.

"Take this, it is the key to the Tower of Fate." Red tornado handed Kaldur the golden key he showed the group of teens.

"What are the chances we both so admire the mystic arts?" Wally asked M'gann in a way he probably thought was being suave. Artemis and Kate shared a matching look of exasperation and disbelief.

~~*~~

SALEM

August 19, 20:22 EDT

They all dressed down into civies, Kate wearing her usual light wash, ripped, mom jeans and long sleeve shirt. The toe of her Doc Martens scraping against the floor of the Bioship in boredom as her hands played with the sleeves of her new leather jacket. It was a little strange not wearing her old one, the worn material of the too small piece of outerwear had become like a weighted blanket to the teen.

Giving it up was akin to shedding the last piece of her old life, and it was a lot harder than she thought it would be.

"So, Wally, when did you first realize your 'honest affinity' for sorcery?" Artemis asked sarcastically.

"Well, I-uh, I don't like to brag but before I became Kid Flash, I seriously considered becoming a wizard myself." Wally leaned back in this chair, his arms crossed behind his head, everyone in the Bioship beside M'gann looking at him with disbelief and annoyance.

"We've reached Tornado's coordinates but..." M'gann trailed off.

"Nothing's there." Kate realized, seeing nothing but an empty plot of land.

"Take us down." M'gann did as Kaldur told her and parked the Bioship on the side of the road like it was an actual car.

Kate didn't know why she found this funny, but she did.

Wally ran the perimeter and came back looking highly disturbed, "Nothing, this isn't simple camouflage."

"So, what do you think? Adaptive micro-electronics combined with phase-shifting?" Artemis asked, trying to trip up the deceitful speedster. Kate standing a little way off but still close enough to hear.

"Absolutely... not!" Wally changed his answer as M'gann walked up beside him. "Clearly mystic powers are at work here." Wally was as bad of a liar as Oliver was. Kate was no longer amused by Wally lying through his teeth, it was a Thursday, she had school tomorrow and homework she should be doing right now.

She's not stupid, not by any means. Not to brag, but she's actually pretty smart, she's just not used to using her smarts for anything other than survival and combat tactics. So, to sit through a math lesson on advanced algebra or an English class focused on creative writing was a new experience. One she found too not be totally unwelcome.

"A test of faith..." Kate turns to look at their leader questionably, the Atlantean looking intensely at the key Red Tornado gave him, "Stand behind me." He weaved his way through the group and walked up to the empty space of the field, inserting the key into the air and turning it.

Kate was convinced he was losing it before a loud clicking sound filled the air, the sound of a lock unlocking, and a giant building appeared out of thin air. Correction: a giant tower. Kate's eyes went wide as plates, her jaw dropping to the grass under her feet as she stood there stunned.

Aqualad pushed open the door and lead by example by entering the creepy looking tower first, the rest of the team following.

"Uh where'd the door go?" Superboy asked and Kate instantly got bad vibes, feeling like a trapped animal. Every fiber of her being screaming she shouldn't be here.

"Greetings," A hologram...? Of Kent Nelson appeared in a flash of golden light and Kate almost yelped in surprise, "You have entered with a key but the tower does not recognize you, state your purpose and intentions."

Kate waited for Kaldur to say something, her eyes constantly shifting around the space like a junkie searching for a fix. "We are true believers, here to find Doctor Fate." Wally, the ginormous idiot that he is, spoke up for the group. Which was a very big mistake judging by the frown that plagued the holograms face before it disappeared. Kate internally (And externally) panicking about what that meant.

Her question was answered when the floor broke up underneath them and the team started falling, Kate screaming, normally. Barely controlling her sonic scream as her worst nightmare came to life. M'gann grabbed Wally, Kaldur saved from a fiery death by Artemis and her cross bow, Superboy digging into the rocky walls with a yell.

Kate? Kate was free falling, flipping in the air, no way to save herself and no one able to save her. She honestly thought she was going to die.

"Kate!" Artemis yelled as the blonde fell past the archer and Atlantean.

"Superboy!" Aqualad yelled, the clone reaching out and catching the song bird by her waist, her boots almost touching the superheated lava inches below her and her savior. The blonde looked traumatized, her eyes wide with horror and unshed tears as a green tinge colored her lightly tanned skin.

The clone could hear how fast her heart was racing in her chest, how shallow her breaths were. She was having a panic attack.

The clone growled, holding onto her tightly as he dug his fingers into the wall deeper for a better grip. "This Nelson guy better be worth it." Superboy called up to the other's.

"Having trouble... maintaining altitude... I'm so hot." M'gann said, slowly succumbing to the heat of the lave below them.

"You certainly are." Wally said, looking at the Martian with heart eyes.

"Wally!" Artemis scolded.

"Hey! Inches above sizzling death, I'm entitled to speak my mind!" The speedster fought back. His words only making Kate's panic worse, her and Superboy being the closest to the 'sizzling death' Superboy feeling the blonde begin to practically vibrate in his hold.

"My physiology, and M'ganns are susceptible to extreme heat, we must climb out quickly." Aqualad wipes away the sweat on his forehead.

"Hello Megan, we never truly answered the question," Miss M realized, "Red Tornado sent us! To see if Mr. Nelson and the helmet were safe!" A dark brown tiled floor slid over the lava, the heat instantly disappearing, Superboy jumped off the wall and set Goldfinch onto her feet, which didn't last as the blonde fell back against the wall and slid down till she was sitting on the ground. Wally and M'gann dropping right next to her, Kaldur and Artemis swinging down.

"This platform, it should be red hot." Kate knew this, but her mind was still processing the fact she wasn't dead, her panic slowly fading the longer she had solid ground under her. The weightless feeling of falling never leaving her as she shakily stood and looked at the clone with an openly terrified look on her face. This was the first time he had seen her this vulnerable. Even when she was hurt, she had the look of a warrior, continuously pushing forward through the pain.

But this wasn't physical pain she can push away with mind over matter or adrenaline, this was a type of pain that was caused by the fear spurred on by adrenaline, it was psychological. She didn't look like a warrior, she looked like a kid, for the first time ever since he had known her.

She turned away from the clone after opening and closing her mouth a couple times, unsure of what to say, hanging her head between her knees, "I think I'm gonna be sick." She was still shaking and her shoulders heaved with labored breathing just shy of hyperventilating.

Artemis looked at the girl, that always seemed so unshakeable, reduced to a panic induced mess and she got angry.

"Don't worry Megalicious, I got you." Wally flirted with M'gann, which set the blonde archer off.

"Enough! You're little 'impress Megan at all costs' game, nearly got us all barbequed!" Artemis shoved Wally back against the wall.

"When did this become my fault?!" Wally got defensive.

"When you lied to that... whatever it was, and called yourself a true believer!" Artemis got in his face, Superboy coming up behind her in silent support.

"Wally, you don't believe?" Kate straightened up, forcing herself to calm down (and failing), as M'gann asked her question. Sounding incredibly naïve.

"Fine! Fine! I lied about believing in magic," Wally broke under the pressure of his team mates disapproving stares, "But magic is the true lie! A major load!"

"Wally, I studied for a year at the conservatory of sorcery in Atlantis. The mystic arts created the skin icons that power my waterbearers." Aqualad tried to convince the red head civilly, still crouched down and feeling the cool temp of the floor.

"You ever hear of Bioelectricity? Hey in primitive cultures fire was once considered magical too, today it's all just a bunch of tricks." He denied, Kate just shaking her head, if she wasn't convinced of magic before she sure was now. And she wanted out and to never deal with it ever again.

"You sure are pretty closed minded for a guy who can break the sound barrier in his sneakers." Artemis rebuked, her anger doing nothing but growing the more he continued to deny the truth right in front of him.

"That's science, I recreated Flash's laboratory experiment and here I am. Everything can be explained by science." Wally's mic-drop moment falling flat with the audience of his peers.

"Let us test that theory." Aqualad spoke from the floor, reaching for a handle sticking up and lifting a hatch in the ground.

"Wait! The back draft from the lava will roast us alive!" Wally's words fell flat when powdery white flakes of frozen water flew up into the air. The crisp air helping Kate come back to earth from the emotional roller coaster she just went on. Reminding her she was alive, if she was dead surely, she wouldn't be able to feel the sting of the cold air in her lungs.... Right?

"It's snow!" M'gann said with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas.

"Do you ever get tired of being wrong?" Artemis smirks at Wally as the team starts to go through the hatch, the short weightless feeling not doing anything great for Kate's peace of mind as she lands next to Superboy. The five of them looking to Wally to see if he had a scientific explanation.

Kate knew he did, because it's where her mind wanted to go, just to give her some sense of normality.

"Ever hear of string theory? We're in a pocket dimension." Artemis let out a sound of pure frustration.

"What's that?" M'gann asked, making them all turn to see what she was looking at, a cane floating in the air. Yeah, Kate has had enough of magic and mystic forces to last a lifetime. Can she go home now? Homework seems like a better option to the teen right now.

Artemis and Wally grabbed the cane, "I got it," They said in unison, "I can't let go! Ahh!" The remaining four team members watched in shock and worry as the archer and speedster were dragged up into the sky and disappeared in a flash of light.

Kaldur, Superboy, M'gann, and Kate all sharing looks of 'what the fuck just happened?' before shrugging and walking through the snow. Kate still shaking but for a different reason, she wondered how the other's weren't so affected as she was, she figured it was because none of them were as fragile as humans when it came to the cold.

"I don't understand Wally-" Kate snorted a laugh at M'ganns words.

"Does anyone?" She interrupted, her snarky tone earning her a scolding look from Kaldur. The teen visibly deflated, her shoulders caving in as she tried to retain any body heat, she could.

"It's almost like he needs to believe the impossible can't happen." M'gann finished her thought with no more interruption from the songbird.

"Hey Superboy?" The blonde asked quietly beside him, gaining the clones attention, "I should say thank you, you uh- you probably saved my life back there. I'm not sure if I would have actually been roasted alive by Lava or not because magic is confusing but if you hadn't of caught me-" Kate wasn't normally the type to let people see her be vulnerable, especially not people she was iffy on trusting. She also wasn't a big words person, preferring action, physical proof, over pretty words and false promises. But this was necessary. She was trying to be different, more open, less defensive.

That moment as she was falling and then suddenly wasn't anymore...

It was the first time she had ever been afraid to die. Now that she had things to live for, friends, family, a life that consisted of more than fear and survival.

Superboy had lengthened her time on this green planet of theirs, that was the final puzzle piece she needed to fully trust the quiet clone she didn't really talk to as much as a friend and as a teammate.

The clone just grinned at her, an understanding look in his eye, no more words needing to be said between the two.

A loud crashing sound grabbed the four teens attention, all of them turning to see a doorway and stairs open at the top of a slope in front of them. Looking at one another with furrowed eyebrows and walking through the door, falling through it (Kate was really tired of falling) and seeing their long-lost teammates with Kent Nelson. A large bell hanging behind them, it was very hunchback of Notre Dame.

Artemis ran over to her teammates and helped them up, just in time to dodge a blast of lightning shot in their direction. "What the fu-" Kate cursed, turning and seeing two guys, obviously bad guys. One holding a wand like he was freaking Harry Potter and they were Voldemort, the other looked like a boy, extremely pale with greasy black hair, horns coming out of his forehead and a cat curled around his neck. Think love child between Satan and a rat.

"Professor Snape? Is that you?" Kate asked under her breath, taking out her batons from under her jacket, barely conscious of the fact that Wally and Kent had just disappeared into the bell.

Well, wasn't that just splendid, Kate and the others continued to dodge the blasts being sent their way, the blonde getting an idea. "Superboy! Could I get a boost?" The clone smirked and nodded, making a platform with his hands and tossing her up and at knockoff Harry Potter... or would he be a death eater? To be determined at a later date.

She reared back an arm, ready to knock some common decency into the wizard dude, but was hit with a lightening blast in the stomach and thrown back, her clothes smoking as a cage of electricity came over her.

"Goldfinch!" Superboy yelled as sonic waves distorted the air from her screams of pain. The clone running over to try and help but getting caught himself. The pain didn't last long though, a blinding golden ankh appeared behind the evil wizard and stripped him down to his delicate's.

Goldfinch got up with the other's, watching Superboy approach the almost naked charlatan "Show's over." He said before punching the man, knocking him out cold.

~~*~~

STAR CITY

The Lance Apartment

August 20, 00:45 PDT

Looking at the clock as she quietly entered Dinah and Hers' apartment, Kate just shook her head at the time zone difference. Zeta-ing back and forth seriously messed up her circadian rhythm, not that she slept much to begin with. But still.

Kate took off her boots by the door and tiptoed through the spacious kitchen in the dark, her socked feet padding down the hardwood hallway and pausing before a slightly open door. Dinah's room. Before she could think too much about it the teen was peeking into the older woman's bedroom cautiously, getting caught red handed by a still awake Dinah Lance.

"You're back early." The older blonde said with a small smile, sitting in bed with a book that Kate had recommended to her.

Goldfinch was free falling, flipping in the air, no way to save herself and no one able to save her. She honestly thought she was going to die.

"...If you hadn't of caught me-"

she had things to live for, friends, family, a life that consisted of more than fear and survival.

"Hey, is everything alright?" Dinah pulled the covers off her legs and got out of her bed, seeing Kate zone out with a look the older woman had never seen before on her young face. Dinah laid a calming hand on the teens shoulder and a tense paused ensued before Kate was shooting forward and wrapping her arms around her mentor, shocking and almost knocking the woman over. "Woah, hey, hey." Dinah cooed softly petting back the girl's hair as she returned the hug.

The teen didn't say anything, just held onto her tighter, the woman who had quickly filled the role of a mother-figure in her life when she needed it most, burying her face into Dinah's shoulder.

Left over panic and anxiety from the fall making her vibrate like the flash trying to phase through a wall as it all came crashing back down. Her thoughts spiraling until she was having a full blown panic attack in Dinah's arms. The woman keeping a calm face on the outside while she was internally in shock, running her fingers through the teens hair and talking softly to her.

"Just breathe, you're okay now. I'm right here, you're safe." Once Kate had stopped hyperventilating Dinah pulled back, holding the girl's face softly, seeing her ocean blue eyes all red and bloodshot, tear stains on her flushed cheeks.

"Can I-" Kate's voice cut off, her lips pursing as she looked down, sniffling quietly as her walls were slowly being put back in place and shame started to pool in her stomach. She tried not to let Dinah see her like how she felt right now. A weak child. Dinah didn't need her to finish her question to understand, being able to read what was happening in her head with the clarity of crystal.

"Come on." Dinah gently led Kate to her bed, helping the girl out of her jacket before they settled, Kate curling into Dinah's shoulder hesitantly, falling asleep almost instantly.

Dinah's calm façade fading into a strange look that was a mixture of worry and joy. Worry about what had caused Kate's panic attack and how it was going to affect her moving forward. Joy, because Kate came to her, albeit subconsciously at first, but she still looked to another person for comfort rather than turning inward and self-destructive. It was progress. She was starting to fully trust the people in her life, the team, Oliver, Her, Artemis even.

And for just a split second, looking down at Kate, Dinah saw her sister. It was nostalgic in the best and worst way.

"Hey D?" The six year old Sarah Lance whispered into the dark room of her older sister, "I had a nightmare." Her baby blonde hair resembling a mane from sleep, her big, deep blue eyes scared and tired.

"Come on," a ten year old Dinah Laurel Lance turned on the lamp beside her bed and lifted her dark blue covers. Her little sister racing forward with her blanket she's had since birth, golden wings embroidered into the corner shining in the low light of the room, and dived in next to her big sister. Curling up into Dinah's side and falling back to sleep almost instantly.

Sarah Lance had been missing for fourteen years, declared dead after five, and it had killed Dinah when she got the call that the police had stopped looking. But then... a little ray of hope shone through the dark clouds.

Kate.

A girl, basically a carbon copy of Sarah, with the ability to sonic scream... it was too big of a coincidence to be a coincidence. Even with only circumstantial evidence to back up the theory, Dinah knew in her bones.....

Kate was Sarah's daughter.

And Dinah would take care of her like she was her own. Protect her the way her sister had failed. Sarah may be gone but Dinah would be dammed if she were to let Kate, her niece, her family, slip through the cracks.

~~*~~

[topguncortez]

Under the Desk- B.Simpson

pairing: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson x female!reader warnings: SMUT! dom/sub dynamic, mention of age gap, blowjob, cock warming, public sex (kinda) word count: 1.2k

A/N: this is my first Cyclone drabble so be nice. also thank you @wildbornsiren for awakening something within me that I didn't know needed to be awakened.

“Come in!” Cyclone called out as he heard a knock on his office door. His eyes were starting to strain from looking at black and white documents all morning. Maverick had yet another crazy training plan that he wanted to work on and Cyclone was waiting for the day he could ship Maverick off to another Naval Base. 

“Hey,” You spoke softly, as you opened the door. Cyclone’s green eyes looked up from his computer and he smiled, leaning back in his desk chair. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Beau said in relief, happy to see you. He was always happy to see you, you were the bright spot in his ever boring life. He didn’t think at 50, divorced and basically married to his job, he’d find someone who was willing to love him for him. He could be gruff, and mean, and cold, it came with the price of holding such an important title. But there was something about you that helped melt his icy exterior. Maybe it was your young age, maybe it was your innocence, maybe it was your knack for getting yourself into some trouble, but it kept Beau on his toes. 

“You didn’t answer my call about meeting for lunch, so I thought I should stop by and see what you were doing,” You said, and walked over to his side of the desk, sitting down on his lap. He immediately circled an arm around your waist like it was second nature to him. 

“Been busy dealing with this shit,” He grumbled, waving his free hand at the pile of papers on his desk, “Turned my phone off, I’m sorry, baby.” 

“It’s okay, daddy.” 

Beau’s beautiful eyes seemed to turn a shade darker as that word slipped past your lips. His hand found its place in between your thighs, gently resting on the skin. He could feel the heat radiating off of your cunt and you leaned down, pressing a kiss to that spot below his ear. 

“You’re stressed,” You whispered in his ear, putting an arm around his shoulders, fingers gently playing with the small hairs at the base of his neck, “It’s not good for you.” 

“Neither are you, but here we are,” Beau said, smirking up at you. 

“You like having me around, I keep you young,” You smiled, and slid off his lap to stand up between his legs. His rough hands slowly trailed down the sides of your waist, and to your legs. The dress you wore stopped about mid thigh, giving Beau the perfect sight of your beautiful legs. 

“That you do, sweetheart.” 

“Let me take care of you, daddy,” You said, and leaned down to kiss him. Beau knew exactly what you were doing, so he pushed his chair back a bit, so you could angle your body to be hidden by his desk. You sunk down to your knees and could already see his cock straining against his khaki dress pants. You palmed him through his pants and he groaned. 

“Don’t fucking tease me, girl,” He said, his voice dropping into a gravelly octave, one that sent shockwaves straight to your dripping core, “You’re here for one fucking purpose, and that’s to suck me off and go home. Got it?” 

“Yes sir,” You said in response, your hands going to his belt. He lifted his hips enough that you could slide down his pants and black boxers, watching as his aching cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach. He groaned at the feeling of the cold air hitting the angry red tip that was already leaking pre-cum. 

“I hardly did anything and look at you,” You spoke up in pure wonder at the man in front of you. 

“Stop fucking talking,” Beau growled, and grabbed your hair, pushing you towards his cock. 

You wasted no time, taking Beau’s hard cock into your mouth, licking the pre-cum off the top of it. You had been with him long enough to know how he liked his blowjobs, messy and sloppy. You pulled off him enough, and spit directly on his cock, using your hand to smear the mixture of your spit and pre-cum down his length. 

Beau was enthralled by you, he pulled your hair out of your face, and watched as you took what you could of him into your mouth, gagging as he hit the back of your throat. He loved when you gagged on him, he loved hearing the sounds you would make when you sucked him off. It had taken you some time, but he had basically trained your throat to take him as deep as you possibly can. 

“Such a good fucking girl,” Beau groaned out as you bobbed your head up and down. Beau kept his hand on your head, directing your movements, pushing you down a little farther each time. 

He jumped slightly when there was a knock on his office door. He could see through the translucent glass that there was someone outside his door, and he rolled his eyes knowing it was Maverick from the short stature. He looked down at you, you looked up at him through your lashes, and pulled off of him. 

“Get under the desk,” Beau directed, and you smirked, shuffling under the surprisingly roomy desk. His cock was still out and hard as he pushed his lower half under the desk, “Come on.” 

“Sir,” Maverick said, walking in. 

You drowned out the conversation between Maverick and your boyfriend, your eyes locked on the sight of his cock. You smirked to yourself, shuffling around a bit, and wrapping your hand around his cock. Beau jumped a bit and covered up his movement with a cough, which spurred you on even more. You weren’t sure what caused it, but you moved your head into his lap, and placed your mouth back on his cock. Beau felt the feeling of pleasure roll through his body as you started to move your head, but was quickly stopped by him putting a strong, firm hand on the back of your head. 

You weren’t sure how long you were in that position, Beau’s hand on the back of your head, your mouth open and stuffed with his hard cock, drool falling from your mouth and pooling on his lap. Your jaw was starting to ache and so were your knees. But even besides that, it was the best feeling ever, being able to keep him warm as he yelled at Maverick for something stupid. You had to clench your thighs shut as you felt him twitch in your mouth. The second Maverick’s footsteps started fading and the door shut, Beau was pulling you off of him, and out from underneath the desk. 

“Jesus he can sure-” 

“Shut up,” Beau growled, turning you around and bending you over his desk. You gasped at his roughness as he grabbed the bottom of your dress, pulling it up enough to expose your naked backside, “Of course,” Beau mumbled, “Where are your panties?” 

“Forgot them,” You said innocently. 

“You’re telling me, you woke up, took a shower, did your hair and makeup, picked out this dress, put it on, and forgot to put underwear on?” 

You looked over his shoulder and smiled, “I’m forgetful” 

“Yeah well you’re gonna be a whole nother level of forgetful when I’m done with you.”

--- --- ---

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[moraxrkive]

dom, sub, switch or brat? - genshin women x female!reader

cw: 100% lesbian content with jean, beidou, rosaria, ningguang and lisa; NSFW, explicit sexual content, BDSM dynamics, soft and hard doms, praise, degradation, blasphemy (?) on rosaria's part, mention of face slapping in beidou's. MEN, NON-WLW, AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI. YOU WILL GET BLOCKED.

A/N: i told yall i was gonna take this matter into my own hands. 😈 as always, remember english is not my first language! i apologize for any mistake.

jean

ah, dear jean... she's not only a sub, but a pillow princess.

poor girl is so stressed with work... and what better way to de-stress than letting her girlfriend take care of her?

she loves being a sub. she loves not having to think or to make an important decision. she can just... let go. give up control. trust you to think for her. she knows that, at least during sex, she's not the Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius... she's just your jean. your girlfriend. your good girl. your pretty princess.

and you're so good to her. praising her in the way she deserves to be. she's such a hardworker, doesn't she deserve all the praise in the world? isnt't she just a good girl? you treat her so sweetly, kissing her whole body just to see her shiver and blush, all shy.

"you're so pretty..." you said, leaving another kiss at her pussy, two fingers working inside her. she was so embarrassed, poor thing. her right hand was covering her mouth and, once you noticed that, you used your left hand to remove it, intertwining your fingers with hers, making her look at you, all red and shy. "i want to hear you, baby. let me see how good i'm making you feel, yeah? nothing to be embarrassed about, princess."

beidou

a lot of people see beidou as a hard dom, and i see where they're coming from.

but, consider this: brat beidou.

she's not only a pirate, but also a captain. she has her own ship, her own crew and, similar to jean, she also has a lot of work and just wants to let go.

but here's the twist: she wants to let go, but she also loves to challenge you. she loves seeing you snap and putting her in her place. she's a total sucker for that.

she will tease you through the day, she wants to do whatever it takes for you to put your hands on her.

"huh, that's all you got?" she said, smirking at you, as if your scissoring haven't been doing anything to her. you rolled your eyes and squeezed her neck hard, making her moan and arch her back. "keep talking shit like that and I'll hit that pretty face of yours. i don't think you want that, do you?" that's a lie, you knew she did, that's what she looks forward to the most, such a little masochist she is. lucky for her, she has you, her little sadistic brat tamer girlfriend. ah, a match made in heaven.

rosaria

hard dom. i don't think i need to elaborate, do i?

i mean... just look at her. such a strong, independent woman... it's just natural that her personality would extend to the bedroom.

we all know rosaria doesn't like receiving orders. the reason? she prefers to simply give them.

she loves seeing her pretty little girlfriend squirming and obeying her like a good little sub would. the image of you bellow her, looking at her so ready to obey is enough to get her completly worked up.

she loves to degrade you. her mouth is so filthy and she's so mean to you, teasing you just to say you're the desperate one.

"you're such a slut... you know that, right?" she said, looking down at you between her legs, grabbing your hair and jerking your head up, so you can look into her eyes. "dropping on your knees and pratically crying to eat me out at the church. what would the sisters think?" she was being so unfair, she was the one teasing you! she was the one who has been whispering filthy things in your ear since the morning, she's the slut... right? totally not you for just acting like a whore - her words, not mine - and humiliating yourself just to eat her pussy on holy ground... right?

ningguang

dear ningguang here, is a switch. but most of the time, she's a soft dom.

she just loves to spoil you, in any sense. you liked a dress? she buys it. your favorite rock is cor lapis? expect an earrings + necklace set by your room in just a few days. that's her love language.

and it wouldn't be different in the bedroom. she spoils you with everything possible. kisses? touches? toys? whatever makes you moan so sweetly and makes you see stars, she will use. she just wants to make her girl happy.

and whenever she's a sub, she doesn't change her attitude. she'll do everything to please you. she will drop to her knees the second you ask her to, she will kiss every inch of your skin, she will put your pleasure above hers. "giving you pleasure gives me pleasure", she said once.

but you still don't let the night end without giving her pleasure too. she spoils you so much, she deserves to be spoiled too.

"is this good, darling?" she asked, kissing your inner thigh while two of her fingers were already inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that makes your eyes roll back. "y-yeah... like alwa- fuck" you gasped as she added a third finger and curled them upwards, stimulating you even more. you grabbed the back of her head and started slowly grinding against her fingers, making her bite her lip, just to let out a little moan after. she moves a little bit upwards to kiss your lower belly, right above your pussy. "i love seeing you like this, darling. i love to see you using me for your pleasure."

lisa

i see lisa as a dom, but here's the thing: she's a soft but mean dom?

let me explain.

she spoils you a lot during sex, always making sure you come at least three times and making sure to take care of your needs, but she constantly praises and degrades you at the same time - the perfect balance -, except it's a little tricky because she always has a sweet tone to her voice.

she uses her vision in her favor, giving you little shocks just to stimulate you a bit more. she even taught you how to manipulate it a little so you could use it on her too.

lisa, in my opinion, might be one of the kinkiest of this list, but damn if she isn't the queen of aftercare. overstimulating you until you're crying and shaking? expect a warm bath. spanking you until it actually hurts? expect lots of kisses after.

she knows the best spots in the library. that's all i'm gonna say.

"is there a problem, cutie?" she asked, faking sweetness in her eyes as she looks at you, all spread out for her, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel her wet pussy rubbing against yours "are you so fucked out you can't even speak anymore? my my cutie..." she just started to scissor your harder, not giving you time to relax. she was a little box of surprises.