#i usually draw it as a proper cross

[neptunym]

ah! so jolly 🎄🕊

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice

(Hi it's time for my favorite headcanon)

...

Vlad Masters sat firm and proper on the Fenton Family couch, legs crossed, teacup pinched in his fingertips, fighting subtly against the sinkhole that came with the mistake of taking Jack’s usual spot on the couch. He appeared with all the same charm and delightfulness of an ant swarm rearranging your picnic.

Danny stood at the doorway, just-still-in-the-kitchen, just not inviting himself to join the adults in the living room where Jack boomed and rambled and Vlad sat so stiff and polite and nice that his tea in his hands was going cold.

“Oh, Danny you’ll love this story—Danny, you should join us—Danny this was, what, summer of ’84? When was that heatwave, Vladdy? The one where you—”

“There’s no need to bore Daniel with the mad ravings of two old kooks, Jack. Kids would rather be off at the mall or—some store, surely. No need to stick around Daniel on my behalf. I assure you I won’t be offended if you leave.”

“No worries, V-man. I’m good right here. I love hearing Dad’s stories." Danny met Vlad's challenge, speaking with more poisonous courtesy than Vlad had proffered first. "In fact I think he should tell a few more, if he’s got more in mind.”

“In fact I do have more in mind—” Jack answered.

Neither Danny nor Vlad were listening to Jack. They held eye-contact, Danny with a stern unblinkingness of a sheepdog on duty. A lot was said without words. A lot was understood when Vlad decided to visit through the front door. Vlad only used the front door when he wanted something.

And it was never good when Vlad wanted something.

“—the core reactor project, yeah? That summer? That was in the lab with no A/C. Top floor. We were sweating like pigs, all of us. And I dared you to eat the really moldy pizza from our fridge the night before and you ralphed right into—”

“—Surely you remember this more fondly than I do. Daniel, really, you can go.”

Not a chance.

“Actually,” Danny answered, brightening some as his opportunity struck. “I am interested in this. For science class I need to write a report on the invention of an important piece of technology. I was gonna ask Mom and Dad about the Ghost Portal. And now that you’re here, I can get the whole history.”

Jack made a giddy little noise. He leaned forward, words primed, but Vlad was quicker to the draw.

“Sorry to say, your faith in me is unfounded. I wasn’t the portal guy back in college—that was always your mother and father’s passion project. I was their skeptic.”

“Bet that’s got you feeling pretty foolish right now, doesn’t it V-man?” Jack chided, a quick jab to Vlad’s ribs that nearly unseated the teacup from his suspended saucer. “Considering the fully-functioning portal right beneath our toes.”

“I hardly feel foolish, Jack. Your calculation for the portal in college was never going to work.”

“What do you mean? Of course it did.” Jack thumped the ground with his foot. “It’s running the old girl right now.”

At this, Vlad’s eyes narrowed. For the first time he’d been shaken off whatever skeezy machinations had brought him in. His pride was being challenged, and by Jack no less.

“Absolutely not. With that calculation? Absolutely not.”

“Well forget the tea biscuits Vlad, because you’re going to be eating your words in a second. Mads, hold my spot,” Jack said, as if anyone was planning to take his spot. He bounced from the couch, scooted from the living room, and vanished into the dark maw of the lab stairs, leaving only the waning beat of his footsteps behind.

His absence filled only a swallowing few seconds. The footsteps returned, bounding upward, creaking with his heavy cadence, and Jack bounced back into the room in much the manner he left. A pad of yellow lined paper was clutched in his hand. When he dropped it on the coffee table, it revealed row after row of tight scribble, churning math, carrying down the page and occupying two entire pages more that Jack flipped through.

“Same baby I came up with in college. It just needed heavier dampening and higher voltage than what we made back then. The portal downstairs has that in spades. Well, in like two-thirds of a spade.” Jack tapped something on the last line. “The projection was still only hitting 70% of the threshold we calculated to reach dimension penetration. But it’s an art, not just a science. We fired it up anyway, and it took!”

Vlad grabbed the paper pad, agitated. His eyes ran over it. Then again. Until he settled on one line, a firmness overcoming his face. He tossed the pad back onto the coffee table, and Vlad leaned back into the couch, arms crossed.

“The lambda, Jack.”

“The lambda?”

“Check it again.”

Jack did, lips pursed, pad of paper nearly swallowed in his big meaty hand.

“What about--?”

“It squares. The units don’t balance otherwise. It originates from an integration step of λ*∂λ/∂t. It squares.”

Jack’s brow remained furrowed, firm, until delight cracked into his eyes, and he let out a laugh.

“Gods, my handwriting is gonna be the death of us. Mads,” he tapped something unseen on the second page. “That’s the genius of Vladdy. Cracked this puppy wide open with just a glance. I never noticed that in all my checking. That explains the missing 30%, at least. That explains how the portal took. Lucky for you Danny that Vlad was here—”

“Jack,” Maddie said.

“—your report can have the correct formula. It’ll be—”

“—Jack—”

“—A+ worthy—”

“—Jack,” Maddie said, curt. “Lambda is the ambient ecto-energy. It’s a few ten-thousandths of a unit.”

“It—huh.”

Maddie had surfaced a pen from her pocket. She sheared a few blank pages out from the back of the pad and started the formula fresh. She made quick work of copying it over, quicker work of solving it through – lambda-squared intact.

She hit the final line and hatched a pen mark beneath the number. Jack stared, confused.

“That can’t… no.”

He repeated the same. New pages torn loose. Formula copied over, processed, line by line by line—lambda squared—by line by line by line.

Jack settled on his answer. Same as Maddie’s.

Confusion made his face tense.

“So it’s not 70% of the way to the threshold… It’s 0.013% of the way to the threshold.”

He held the pen hard, his whole body holding firm and taut as the gears turned in his head. Jack’s eyes flickered across the formula, again and again and again. He looked to Maddie, like a dog issued a command he did not understand.

“But it worked,” he said, small. “But it worked.”

Jack stood, robotic almost, eyes lost in something far away. He disappeared into the lab almost as quickly as he had a few minutes before, but now he exited with a smoothness and a quietness so very uncharacteristic of him. It bothered Danny, somewhere deep in his gut.

Maddie followed, a possession matching Jack’s.

Danny’s fingers curled and uncurled. He’d succeeded. He’s successfully interrupted Vlad’s… whatever this was. But the disquiet infected him. He didn’t like it.

“So what does that mean?” Danny asked, perhaps to Vlad. “What’s wrong with the calculation?”

Vlad sipped on tea ice cold.

“Who knows?” Vlad lied.

…

The math didn’t work.

Maddie and Jack burned through paper, burned through pencils, burned through hours.

The math didn’t work.

Clothes stuck to skin. Sweat lingered fetid and stale in the cold basement air. Exhaustion beat like a slurry through their veins.

The math didn’t work.

The portal supervised all, placidly green, the light for their table, the light for their work when the lightbulb overhead burnt clean out and neither Jack nor Maddie could be pulled away to replace it. It stood, it watched, a testament of contradiction to everything they could not solve on paper, and yet everything they built directly into the fabric of reality.

And it should never have worked.

They threw every radical what-if they’d ever conceived over 20 years of ghost research.

The ecto-ether layer.

The latent activation stitches in space fabric.

The anti-ectomatter collision proposal.

The positive-feedback crystallization theory.

And still nothing worked.

All together, every crackpot theory in their favor taken for granted, racked them up to an activation energy 200x more potent than the calculation, and still just 2% of what would be needed to rip open, and hold open, a stable fissure between their reality and the ghost zone.

Maybe by pure luck, unfathomable luck, Fentonworks basement was directly situated atop a natural portal.

Maybe that would explain ripping it open. It did nothing to explain the stability. Natural portals were unstable by definition. There and gone in a few seconds. Not hours, days, weeks, months, a year, that the Fenton Portal had been open. Never so much as faltering.

It was late. 3am ticked away to 4am, and 4:30am. The discarded paper stacked higher than Jack and Maddie both. Calluses oozed from their hands at another attempt, and another, and another.

Maddie flipped through a folder’s worth of yellowed papers, aggressively thumbed over and over after two decades left untouched. And she settled on the one she’d passed over a few dozen times already, always seeking something else, something better.

This time she unsheathed it, and she placed it on the lab table.

“…If a mouse died. In the machine. If a mouse ran through the machine and accidentally bridged two live wires, and died of violent electrocution. 500 milliamps. Instantly melted into the circuitry.”

Maddie’s mouth was cotton-dry while she wrote. Ambient ecto-energy was low. Always very, very low.

Unless something very, very bad happened to something with the capacity to become a ghost.

The numbers wove. Maddie started the formula fresh, and it was pure muscle memory. A mouse. A big mouse, even. A 99th percentile beast of a mouse. And a wire that had been wired incorrectly. Something grounded that never actually grounded. An absolutely horrific amount of electricity.

0.37%, by pure numbers. If she included every permissive crackpot idea they had thrown on top, it topped out at 6% of the needed activation threshold.

Not a mouse.

“A cat,” Jack said, words gummy, tongue dry, face tired. “If we’ve got mice down here, maybe… a stray cat wandered in. Chased the mouse.”

Maddie nodded. It didn’t matter if it made sense.

She penned it in. A large cat. A devastating electrical short. Cats carried more ecto-potential than mice did. Ecto-potential did not necessarily go up with size. It went up with complexity. The things with the most ecto-potential were the things that most became ghosts.

1.45%, by pure numbers. 18% at absolute, absolute crackpot best.

“A dog,” Jack proposed with a shaky laugh. He swallowed. “A mouse… chased by a cat… chased by a dog… all electrocuted at once”

Maddie didn’t say the thing they both knew, which was that both of them would have noticed the evidence left behind by the electrically exploded pieces of a dog.

Maddie did it anyway. A mouse and a cat and a medium-sized dog, maybe just small enough to notice no evidence of, all together. All at once. All violently ripped apart, sacrificed to a machine still asleep in its wall.

Mice did not often make ghosts. Cats did not either. Dogs, occasionally. But infrequently. Very infrequently.

37%. At best.

“Jack.”

“Maddie, I know just—maybe something really smart—”

“—Jack—”

“—like an octopus—”

“Jack.”

“I hear, maybe, pigs are smart. If it was—”

Maddie was writing, already. Not for a pig. Not an octopus. Jack watched, and he knew what the numbers meant. The ecto-potential she penned gave her away. An ecto-potential that high.

65kg, an estimate

10,000 milliamps, a catastrophic accident, a death certificate.

A human’s amount of ecto-potential.

Maddie wrote.

And she wrote.

And she did not apply a single crackpot theory, not a single discredited proposal, not an ounce of exaggeration.

138%.

Threshold, and then some.

Comfortable, easily, then some.

For the first time, after all the hundreds of times she and Jack had penned this equation over the course of 2 decades, the number met her and Jack’s threshold.

A breakthrough.

A revelation.

A pure eureka moment.

Jack and Maddie were silent.

Alone in a humming basement. Alone with only the soft swirls of the portal for company, happy, stable, purring its contentment, singing to the cold air.

“It has to be something else,” Maddie said. And she said it weakly. And she said it childishly.

“You’re right. It can’t be this,” Jack echoed. “If someone died down here, we’d know. Dead bodies don’t walk away. We’d have seen it. O-or even if, if the body got stuck in the portal, we’d have heard of someone going missing.”

Maddie sat, quiet. A thought held her mind hostage.

“Unless they didn’t go missing,” Maddie said, and she said it barely audibly. “Unless the portal spit them right back out.”

“Then—that’s what I said—a dead body, on the floor, we’d have seen.”

“Not a dead body.”

“It had to be lethal, Mads—”

“I know Jack. But if they died, here, in the portal Jack, then their ghost did not get ripped away from the body and sent to the Ghost Zone. …They ripped the Ghost Zone here.” Palms slick with sweat smoothed over her notes. She pointed to one specific line and found her pen tip trembled no matter how badly she stabilized it. “The ecto-potential of a creature is how strong of a pull their ghost creates on the Ghost Zone. A strong enough pull means the ghost can reach the Ghost Zone and stabilize, like a fish reeling itself up, yeah? We agree on this Jack, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack answered.

“It’s what makes the math even work, Jack. Someone dying in the portal didn’t reel themselves to the boat. They reeled the boat in. Jack, they brought the Ghost Zone here…” Maddie wasn’t breathing right. She pulled sweat-soaked bangs away from her face. “Their ghost never left their body Jack. They died, Jack. And they walked back out.”

“…No. No,” Jack said. “No, they didn’t.”

“Then what?” Maddie asked.

Jack stared. He looked away. He didn’t like the expression on Maddie’s face.

“It—what about the ecto-ether theory?” Jack said, of the theory they’d tested and retested and tested all over, all night. He grabbed his pencil back up and pointed it aimlessly at Maddie’s piece of paper, pointed end out in self-defense. “If the ecto-ether is maybe… if it’s only 250-times stronger than we calculated. Then it could…”

Jack’s voice died. His pencil hung idle. Maddie’s paper remained unblemished.

“If it… was a pig,” Jack offered. “If it was a pig that died in the portal.”

“How, Jack? How would a pig get in? We lock all the doors at night, Jack. No one else can get in, Jack. It’s just us, Jack.”

Jack and Maddie were not there when the portal turned on.

Maddie’s statement carried two possibilities. Only two. Both felt like claws digging all the flesh right out of Jack’s heart.

“I want… I want to try the ecto-ether theory again,” Jack choked. “I think it’s the ecto-ether. I think it’ll work.”

Jack slid a piece of paper over, already covered in scribbles. In its single untouched corner, he started the equation for the several-thousandth time that night.

Above their head, birds were singing.

Sunrise hailed unseen from the windowless laboratory.

…

At 6am, Vlad answered his cell phone. The reception crackled, struggling through the layers of sheetrock above his head.

“Vlad?” Maddie’s voice crackled. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Not at all my dear.” Vlad leaned his weight against the wall, playing with the singsong melody in his voice. “But you sound exhausted. Is anything the matter?”

“Yes. Well… Yes. Jack and I have—all night—trying to fix the equation.”

“Naturally.”

“We found something that maybe works.”

“Oh?” Vlad asked. He straightened, pacing now, cracklingly attentive. “And what might that—”

“If someone died. Activating the portal. We have an on-switch inside the portal’s interior. The trigger we use to press it is external to the portal, of course. But if someone went inside the portal, and they pressed it directly, and if they died, and pulled the Ghost Zone here—”

Vlad’s red eyes reflected pools of iridescent green. He twirled his free hand in the fringes of his cape, tongue working over the fanged edges of his teeth. He stared, consumed, forward.

“—and just, you, I was thinking, you’re the only other expert I’d trust to… maybe weigh in.”

“What does Jack think?”

“He denies it. He’s still. He’s trying other theories.”

“Well who knows, surely? The answer may lie somewhere you haven’t looked.”

“…I’ve looked everywhere, Vlad. That's the thing. There is no more ‘somewhere else’. I’ve looked.”

“You sound like your mind is made up.”

“I just… if maybe you have some idea.”

“Am I meant to talk you out of this idea?”

“Vlad.”

“Do you think I have some secret information you don’t? Sorry to say, I’m just your skeptic.” Some noise came through muffled from the other side. Vlad flashed a smile. “But…as your skeptic I will offer you this—It all sounds a bit absurd, doesn’t it? To kill someone and have them come back intact and… for you to never notice? Who would they be? How would they be? Surely not human anymore, surely. How would you never notice?”

Vlad paced forward, booted feet clicking along his laboratory floor.

“It would be ridiculous,” he continued, with a building crescendo, “so unfathomably self-centered surely, to not notice something like that befall someone so close to you, who died at the hands of your own invention? …If I’m correctly inferring who, in your household, you suspect of having activated the portal?” Vlad’s tongue lingered along his teeth.

Maddie’s line held, quiet. And the seconds of static drew long.

“Ah, apologies. I’ve overstepped,” Vlad continued. “I meant this as a vote of confidence in you. You and Jack both. Two people as attentive, caring, compassionate as yourselves. You would notice. I promise.”

“You’re… Okay, thank you, Vlad. I appreciate it.”

“Is there anything else, my dear?”

“No. No. Thank you, Vlad. I’ll think about this.”

Maddie’s line clicked dead. A chuckle built to Vlad’s lips and he let his head tip back with mirth. It lasted only a moment. He stowed his phone. And as if the interruption had never happened, Vlad reaffixed his attention on his own portal swirling in front of him. It bathed him, swimming green, purring contentment.

And Vlad vanished into his portal.

(Chapter 2)

[wolfiesmoon]

Genshin guys as dads 🤭

in honour of finally getting off my ass and finishing mondstat, i bring you genshin men as dads <3 i decided to challenge myself and write for characters i haven't written for at all yet

the reader is gender neutral (u can interpret that the kid was adopted or u can interpret that the kid is biologically yours)

Yk the more i read these guys' lines to get a better idea of their characters the more i think they need a therapy session stat

Characters featured: Diluc, Alhaitham, Childe, Ayato

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Diluc Ragnvindr

"Diluc! Diluc, are you in here?" you knocked before opening the door to his office, assuming he's probably there. You were finally returning to the winery late in the evening and wanted to see how your daughter and husband were doing.

Tonight, they should both be at the winery.

But to your surprise, the office was completely empty. You haven't heard a single peep from your daughter yet, either. Usually she'd be running around and yelling, even if she wasn't with Diluc.

You went upstairs to check your bedroom and were met with a most adorable sight when you opened the door. Your daughter was very peacefully asleep, drool and all, on Diluc's chest. Diluc did not seem very pleased with this arrangement, however.

"Welcome home." he sighed upon seeing you walk to the side of the bed.

"Looks like someone's on pillow duty." you teased him, petting your daughter's head.

"Don't make fun of me. She's been running around all day with seemingly no end to it. Sometimes I'm surprised at what her tiny legs are capable of." he leaned his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

"She said she's not tired at all. But she fell asleep almost instantly when she sat on top of me to, umm... bother me." to anyone else, Diluc would seem like he hates this kid with how much he says she bothers or annoys him, but you know that isn't the case.

Whenever she runs up to him to show him something she did, he pats her little head lovingly. He keeps the drawing she made of him in his office, even if he is a bit concerned at how grumpy he looks in her artistic interpretation.

"I wasn't making fun of you... Okay, maybe a little bit." you leaned down, cupping Diluc's face and kissing his cheek. He hummed in dissaproval, but his cheeks turned pink anyways.

"Would you mind joining me? If I can't... I want to know that you're safe, atleast." his eyebrows were creased in worry. You don't know what for, exactly, but you gladly joined him on the bed, hugging him too.

"Is your aim to suffocate me further?" the combined weight of about a quarter of your body and his daughter was not the most freeing in the world.

"No, I just happen to understand the appeal of sleeping on top of you." and you really do. It's always so warm and homey.

"You've worked hard today, dad." you moved some stray hairs out of his face. His tired eyes met yours for a moment before they slipped shut. Hehehe, you need to take a photo of this.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Alhaitham

(let's pretend you live together with him now instead of kaveh haha)

"Dad doesn't love me!" the sudden accusation had you turning your head fast, wanting to know what was going on. "What did he do, sweetie?" the little pout on her pudgy face was adorable.

She ran up to you and hugged your leg. "You still love me, right?" she seemed very worried about your reply. It seems like she isn't in the mood to give a proper answer to your question, though.

"Of course I do. You're very very very special to me." You pat her head gently. She seemed satisfied with your reply, giggling happily at you before running off to play.

.

When Alhaitham returned home that day, he attempted to interact with his daughter, as he tries to every day, but he was utterly ignored.

He looked to you, hoping you'd know the reason, but you just shrugged. "She says you don't love her anymore."

"Hm..." was his only reply.

"That's because he doesn't! I told him 'I love you' yesterday but he didn't say it back!" Your daughter crossed her little arms, scowling at her dad before turning around so she didn't have to look at him.

"So it was that." Alhaitham seemed like he understood the situation properly now. And you realised what happened too, because it happens to you occasionally.

"Sweetie, listen. Your dad likes to wear these thingies in his ears. And when he wears them, he can't hear a thing." You explained in the most child friendly way you could.

"Not even an explosion?" Your daughter finally turned back to look at you and Alhaitham, though her eyes were fixated firmly on you.

"Nope. Nothing at all. When he didn't say 'I love you too' yesterday, it was because he was wearing them and couldn't hear." Your daughter turned her head back with an annoyed 'hmph', but you knew she was listening to you.

"So I propose a hug attack. Whenever you see him wearing them." You smiled evilly, glancing at Alhaitham who shot you a dissaproving glare in return.

"Leave me alone." Your daughter huffed, stomping off down the hallway. Oh well, kids don't always think critically, do they? You have a feeling she's already forgiven him a little, though.

"Children make no sense to me." He admits, and you finally greet him properly with a little welcome home peck.

"That's the fun in it, though." You smiled at him and to your surprise, he smiled right back. As awkward as he can get with the kid, he loves her a whole lot.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Childe

"Mhhhh... what is it?" he mumbled in annoyance when he felt his hand getting shook. His voice sounded quite raspy now.

"Dad... Dad..." turns out it was your son who was pulling on Childe's arm. He looked like he was about to burst into tears any second, now.

As soon as he saw the distress on his son's dimly lit face, his attitude changed and he was overcome with the sudden urge to take revenge on something or someone. Maybe it's the dad instinct.

"I had a nightmare.... I'm scared..." your son sobbed.

By this point, even you woke up, but your body was still mostly asleep, so you were just listening in.

"Come up here." Childe tapped the bed and your son awkwardly climbed up into his arms.

"Was it a scary monster?" Childe asked in an exaggerated scary voice. Your son nodded, gripping onto the front of Childe's shirt.

"In that case... you don't have to worry at all. I always love a challenge." you could practically see the smile on Childe's face. You turn over, opening your eyes slightly. You have to admit, the sight in front of you is adorable.

"What do you mean, dad?" your son sniffled, rubbing the snot away with his tiny hand.

"I'll fight the monster, of course. Oh, how wonderful it would be to see the b-" he winced a little bit when he felt the light slap on his face.

"Ajax, you'll scare him even more." you warned, your own voice raspy. You moved your other hand to ruffle your son's hair to comfort him.

"Ow, clearly, someone doesn't appreciate me enough." Childe rolled his eyes playfully.

Without warning, you lean forward and peck him on the lips. "There. Now I've evened out the slap."

"Just one peck? Well, I suppose we can't do much more right now... Hehe." Childe turned his attention back on your son, stroking his back gently to calm him down.

"Why do you have that look on your face?" you noticed he was smiling strangely.

"What look?" your accusations have been denied. But he sure does have a plan for you later.

౨ৎ‧₊˚ ⋅ Kamisato Ayato

"DAD! Look at where I am!" Your son shouted from somewhere in the tree that was stood in the beautifully maintained garden.

Being the little rebel he is, he climbed the tree despite you telling him multiple times not to.

"Please get down from there. It's unsafe." Ayato tried to reason with him calmly upon noticing him in the treetops.

"Nah, it's so cool up here! I can see the whole estate!" Sometimes, your son's stubborn nature made it hard for him to get along with Ayato. This is one of those cases.

"This is not a joking matter. You could get seriously hurt." Ayato doesn't think he could properly live with himself for a bit if his kid got hurt when he could have prevented it.

"What's going on here?" You joined in, happening to pass by the garden.

"He won't come down. I'm... worried about him." He admits, crossing his arms. Though you do sense a bit of annoyance behind his voice, too.

"Come down. I told you not to climb that tree so many times." You crossed your arms firmly. Your son looked at Ayato's face, then yours and sighed, beginning to descend from the tree. He'd rather avoid a scolding. But his little foot slipped and he suddenly tumbled to the ground.

"Son!" Both of you immediately ran to his side as he started wailing. "Call for healers. Immediately." He seemed fine, looking at him initially, but he might have a broken leg or something.

Both of you stayed by his side the whole time, offering him words of comfort (and a bit of a scolding). It seems like something like this happens almost every week, now. The Kamisato household has certainly gotten livelier ever since getting blessed with your son.

.

"Well, that was certainly an afternoon." You huffed, sitting down behind the table across Ayato.

"I wish he wasn't so reckless and disobedient, sometimes." Ayato held his cheek in worry. He let his son get hurt, again.

"He got that mischief from you." You smiled innocently, sipping your tea.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" He smiled innocently back.

"I miss days of solitude. We only have moments now. I suppose my life hasn't been a calm one for a long while now, though." He sips his own tea, looking outside at the sunset. Working as hard as he does every day is taxing on the soul.

"Guess we gotta make the most of it." You stood up, sitting back down next to him and playfully pecking his cheek.

"Oh, I see what you mean." He returned the mischevious smile you know and love. Just as he grabbed your waist, though...

"LOOK WHAT I HAVE!" Your son burst into the room, holding a sword. His sword.

"Aren't you supposed to be resting?!"

[number1mingyustan]

hihi !! I love your fics sm. <3

If you're taking requests can you do Mingyu as a biker bf? What if you wanna learn how to ride a bike and he says "you should practice on the biker first." OMFGGG IM CRAZY. Love you

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, kissing, explicit smut, oral (f+m), sixty-nine, unprotected sex, creampie, riding, light breast play, multiple orgasms

_______________________________________________

Mingyu nibbles on his bottom lip as his eyes remain fixated on the easel in front of him. He's concentrating, hand moving slowly as he drags the brush along the canvas.

You smile to yourself, feeling your heart warm at the sight of him.

Painting is not his thing.

Even with all the effort he seems to be putting into his painting, his lines are crooked and a little messy. He knows this too, he's never really been one for the arts.

Painting is one of your hobbies and always has been. You're more of the artistic type and Mingyu well... Mingyu likes his bikes. He's got more of a grunge sort of vibe that consists of leather jackets, obnoxious motorcycles, and cigarettes.

You were polar opposites. You preferred your quiet life in the arts, sundresses, walks in flower fields, and painting. You've noticed the way he's softened up since you two met, you're sure it's the effect you've had on him.

He sticks his tongue out, drawing his last two strokes before dropping the paintbrush into the cup. "Done."

You turn your head, completely facing him. You eyes scan over the painting in front of him and your smile grows. "Gyu you've gotten so good at this."

He grins at the praise. "Learned from the best."

The painting in front of him is simple, a landscape of a beach sunset. There's not nearly as much detail as the reference photo in front of you two, but it's undeniably solid work, especially for a beginner like your boyfriend.

He leans over, planting a kiss onto your cheek. His eyes can't help but drift to your painting as he does so.

"Oh wow," His jaw slacks open.

He admires your painting. Even though the two of you painted the same thing, yours is exponentially better. He loves how talented you are, and you never fail to impress him.

________________

When Mingyu comes home the next evening, he expects to see you. You're usually in the living room or the bedroom. He searches the house for you, checking every room to no avail.

He frowns. He saw your car parked out front, so he knows you're here.

A loud sound suddenly catches his attention. He makes his way toward the source of the sound, walking downstairs into the garage.

"Fuck!" You exclaim, racing to the aid of the bike.

You struggle to hold the heavy vehicle up as it remains tilted inside the garage. Your boyfriend saves the day, rushing to your side and helping you to lift the bike up to its proper stature.

"Sorry," You apologize quickly. "I swear I was being careful!"

Your words are muffled. He looks at you with confusion written over his face. You're wearing black leggings and a tight-fitting black zip up. It's unusual attire for you.

Not to mention his entirely large helmet is covering your head.

"What are you doing?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You say.

"What?" He asks.

You pull the oversized helmet off of your head and place it under your arm. You huff out.

"I wanna learn how to ride it," You move your hair out of your face. "I was trying to surprise you."

"You hate bikes, babe," He lets out a breathy laugh, taking the helmet out of your hands.

"I've had a change of heart," You insist.

He raises an eyebrow. "Why so suddenly?"

"Well... I don't know. When we were painting it made me realize how much you've embraced my hobbies and stuff. I wanna embrace the stuff you like too," You explain. "So teach me.... please?"

Oh you're adorable, He thinks to himself.

"That's very sweet Y/n," He grins. "But it's okay."

You cross your arms over your body. "But.."

"If you really wanna get into my hobbies, we can find another one baby," He kisses your forehead. "But taking my bike is extremely dangerous and it's probably good that I caught you."

"I know," You say.

You lean against the bike, staring at the vehicle with a glint of sadness behind your eyes. You trace your fingers along the metal of the bike, admiring your boyfriend's precious vehicle.

He places the helmet down. "You know, if you wanna learn that bad, you should practice on the biker first."

It takes a second for his words to settle into your brain. You lean against the bike and raise an eyebrow. "Gyu?"

He walks closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulls you in close. You can feel his breath fanning over your skin, causing goosebumps to raise. His lips press against the shell of your ear.

"Come upstairs," He whispers against your ear. "I'll teach you whatever you want to know."

You intertwine your fingers with his. He pulls your body back into the house and leads you upstairs.

"You're so cute," He smiles. He presses his lips to yours. "I love doing the things you love.... love you." He says between kisses.

He lifts you up and carries you into his bedroom. He places your body down on the bed and pulls off his shirt. His toned body is exposed, muscles bulging beneath his warm skin as he looks at you with hungry eyes.

His back meets the bed with a small thump and he pulls your body on top of him. Your hips meet his and he lets out a soft groan. You pull off your own shirt and drop it onto the ground. You grind against his hips slowly. He unzips your jacket and pulls it off your body.

His hand snakes around the back of your neck and he pulls you into a passionate kiss. He moans against your lips as you continue to grind against his hardening cock.

You can feel him growing beneath you. His cock swells in the confines of his jeans, causing you to moan as you grind down on his growing length. Heat rushes between your thighs and the aching need for pleasure grows in your body.

You pull away from the heated kiss and sit up. You pull your shirt over your head and Mingyu sits up too. He kisses up your stomach and continues to grind against you needily as you unhook your bra. You let it fall and his lips immediately travel to your breasts.

He holds you by your hips as his lips wrap around your nipple. He sucks on your skin, ensuring to give both your breasts the same amount of attention. Your skin burns at the feeling of his touch. Be it his lips on your chest or his hands on your waist, it ignites something in you.

But as much as you love it, you quickly grow impatient. You lift your hips and pull your underwear and leggings off in one go. You toss them and start undoing Mingyu's black jeans.

"C'mre," He says, pulling at your legs.

He lifts your legs and flips you over so he can taste you. He wraps your legs around his head and immediately starts sucking on your clit.

"Fuck.." You moan out.

Your grip on his jeans quickly grows weak as pleasure clouds your senses. You try to undo the buttons, but the feeling of his tongue on you is highly distracting.

He sucks on your clit, occasionally lapping his tongue through your folds. The pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach quickly. You're finding it difficult to do anything, squirming and grinding against his face.

He holds his hands on either side of your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. He moans against you, nearly enjoying it almost as much as you are.

You finally get him undressed and return the favor. You take his hard cock in your hand, stroking his length and spreading the precum from his leaking tip.

He moans against you again, allowing his eyes to fall shut as relief washes over him. He keeps his focus on you, pushing two of his fingers into your soaked hole.

You take his cock into your mouth, moaning around his length as you feel his fingers fill you up. He sucks your clit and his digits pump into you, and the vibrations from his moaning quickly have you nearing the edge.

His cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat as you stroke his length, bobbing your head to make him feel equally as good as you do.

You find down against his face with little to no coordination. Your hips move desperately, chasing your incoming orgasm as your saliva coats the entire length of his cock.

He curls his fingers into you and pumps them at a faster pace. His face is coated with your arousal and he slurps it up gladly, wrapping his lips around your clit and circling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You lift your head, crying out as your orgasm overwhelms you. You grind against his face and fingers as you cum, continuing to drip onto his face.

"Hah-shit," You moan out.

His cock still remains in the grip of your hand, leaking more precum as he tastes you on his tongue.

When you come down from your high, his hands are quickly on your body. He pulls your body flush against his, kissing you sloppily and needily.

He is so obsessed with you and everything about you. His hands wander along your skin, tracing over every inch of your body gently. He lays on his back, pulling you back on top of him without breaking the kiss.

You're the one to pull away, lifting your hips on his lap. He leans back, allowing you to take over.

You sink down onto his length, groaning at the stretch of his cock. He holds you by the hips, guiding you down on his cock. The warmth of your pussy envelopes him perfectly, dripping down his length as you accommodate his length.

"So good baby," He moans.

Your eyes are screwed shut as you sink down, only tightening as he fills you up bit by bit. You gasp out once your hips meet, feeling the entirety of his length inside of you.

"Fuck...holy fuck–" You grip the bedsheets.

You start moving your hips slowly, still getting used to the feeling of fullness. He's patient with you, guiding your hips with soft hands and gentle movements.

You start to pick up a steady rhythm, lifting your hips and sinking down onto his length. You roll your hips with each movement, allowing his cock to fill you up and reach deep into you.

It feels so fucking good.

He watches you with love and lust clouding his eyes. His gaze is locked in on you, admiring how beautiful you look right now. Your mouth hangs open as loud moans pass through your lips.

Your body is dripping with sweat and your tits are bouncing in his face every time you lift your hips and sink back down onto his length. The stretch of pussy is addictive, sending waves of pleasure through his cock and entire body.

He sits up, resting his hand on the small of your back. Your hands wrap around his back, nails digging into his skin as your chests press together.

He lifts his hips, matching your pace as he fucks himself into you. You cry out, lips pressed against his shoulder. The feeling is intense and addictive and incredibly intimate.

His cheeks are flushed red and sweat glistens down his face and abs. His hair falls perfectly on his face and you can't help but admire him. His mouth remains in a small 'O' shape, allowing small moans and grunts and groans of pleasure to ring in your ears.

"Fuck baby," He moans. "I'm close."

His head tilts back, exposing his adam's apple to your line of sight. He continues to thrust into you, cock pressing against the sweet spot deep inside of you with every movement of his hips.

"Hah-me too," You pant.

The pleasure continues to grow, eventually overwhelming your entire body. You cry out and your body falls limp against him. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, moaning and breathing heavily as you cum around his cock.

Your pussy throbs, tightening around his length and bringing about his own orgasm. His hips still and his cock swells as he fills you with his load.

He lets out a long groan as he pumps his load into you. Your chests rise and fall in unison as you breathe heavily and come down from your orgasms. You lift your head and cup his cheeks with your soft hands.

His vision clears and his eyes meet yours. He flashes you a grin. "Hi baby."

You return his expression with a shy smile. "Hi Gyu."

He presses his forehead against yours and plants a kiss on your lips. "I love you, pretty girl."

"Love you more," You grin.

"Impossible," He smiles.

His hands hold your hips as he lifts you up. You wince at the emptiness and and lays you down on the bed. He presses a kiss onto your bellybutton and stands to his feet.

He disappears into the bathroom and you hear the bathwater running. He comes back a few minutes later and picks you up bridal style. You wrap your arms around him happily and he carries you to the tub. He slips into the warm water behind you, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder and back.

"Baby," he says.

"Hmm?" You quirk up.

"We can take a ride tonight if you want, on the bike," He proposes. "Together."

You perk up. "Really?"

"Yeah, but you can't be scared," He grins.

"I'm not!"

He kisses your shoulder. "Okay baby, whatever you say. Just hold onto me tight and I won't let you fall and teach your a few things. Sound good?"

You tilts your head all the way back so your eyes meet his. You smile. "Okay. I love you Gyu."

"I love you too."

_______________________________________________

© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

[simplylatte]

Sleepy Teacher

Miss Circle x GN!Reader

You held your papers to your chest, your heels clicking against the hard, tile floor of the hallway. The gentle sounds of your footsteps filled the silence that swept around you. Various flyers decorated the plain walls that were grey and gloomy. You'd occasionally come across a few drawings here and there from students. But aside from that, the design was simple.

You marked your way to the teacher's lounge, your stomach rumbling for some needed food.

You forgot to pack lunch.

You couldn't help it.

You taught your class as usual. Gave a two to three week unit, hand them a study guide, and test them the next day. It was a lot of papers to grade for a single teacher. You feared falling behind, so you spent hours at night trying to grade what you could. And so far, you've only managed to grade half of what was needed to be done. Not to mention that you also hadn't updated your lesson plans yet.

You took a seat at a table, the room empty. You placed the packets of papers on the desk and rubbed your temple. Your head throbbed with excruciating pain. You felt like crying. But you were a teacher. You signed up for this amount of stress, so you resorted to sucking it up with a sigh. After a minute of collecting your thoughts, you grabbed out your pen and began to grade the papers.

Time felt slow, and you grew more tired by the second. Sleep deprivation overwhelmed you and your thinking process. You spent 20 of the 35 minutes of lunch trying to grade a single packet. Your thought process was slowed down that you hadn't registered someone walking in the room.

"Mx. Y/N?" A soft, Japanese accent filled your ears, and you flinched, nearly dropping your pen. You turned your head around to see Miss Circle standing in the doorway.

"Goodness, you nearly scared me to death," you frowned.

"I called your name twice," her eyes narrowed at you.

"You did?"

"I did."

"But I didn't hear you. And since when did you come in?"

Miss Circle didn't say a word. Her eyes stared into your soul, and you knew right away that she caught on to your habits. This wasn't the first time she's found out about your lack of sleep. And unfortunately, she was not real happy about it. Her footsteps clicked against the floor as she made her way to you.

"How much sleep did you get this time?" She asked with a stern tone. You stared at her with visible confusion. You were zoned out until she had to tap your shoulder to get your attention. You simply tilted your head and stared. Miss Circle scoffed lightly.

"How do you expect to be a good role model when you can't even take proper care of yourself?"

"I do take care of yourself," you retorted.

"Then why are you staying up late?"

You stood silent, unsure of what to say or how to respond. You simply shook your head and went back to trying to grade papers. Miss Circle frowned in disapproval. She sat down next to you and lifted your chin up, turning your head to look at her.

"This isn't good for you, you know that by now. If you keep this up, I'll turn you in to the principle—"

"No, please don't!" You protested.

"But I will with the way you're neglecting your sleep. Papers shouldn't be over your top priority."

You stood silent, the feeling of dread washed over you. You hated how caring she was about you. You could handle a few hours of sleep, you thought. You crossed your arms and turned your head away from Miss Circle. Her fingers lightly tap against the table.

"And I'm assuming you didn't pack your lunch either?" She asked. Your eyes widened, and you stood silent. You felt her eyes glare down at you as your silence was obvious enough. Miss Circle mumbled a few words underneath her breath as she went through her lunch bag and pulled out a container with a sliced sandwich. She handed you the bag in front of you and reached over to take away the papers stacked in front of you. You glanced at her and groaned to yourself.

"You really don't need to," you mumbled.

"Oh, but I insist," she whispered back in a hushed but angry tone. "I'm not giving you a choice. Eat."

You shook your head. "No. Come on, seriously. I really need to grade those papers."

"Absolutely not. These papers can wait. Eat the sandwich, and I'll give them back to you."

You snarled in frustration. You were too tired, so you just slammed your head against the table with your arms folded. Miss Circle stared at you for one moment, her eyes narrowed down at you. After a moment of glaring, her gaze softens. She places the papers down beside her and presses her hand on top of yours.

"Listen, I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just worried about you, okay? This isn't healthy for you. You can get yourself sick, you know."

"I know," you sighed. "But it's almost summer break. I can't slack off. The students are stressed enough as it is."

"And so are you. They're not the only ones dealing with stress," she reassured.

"..I'm so tired," you whispered, your vision getting blurry.

"I know you are,"

Miss Circle was about to continue her sentence. But you lifted your head up from the desk, leaned in, and leaned your head against her shoulder. You were tired to notice, but Miss Circle froze with shock and felt her face flush. She stood still and allowed you to lean against her, unsure of what to do. Finally, she wraps her arm around you and holds you close to her.

"Uhm, Y/N?" She gently called out. Nothing. She tilted her head, only to see that your eyes were closed. You fell asleep on her. Miss Circle was flustered, but she held you close. Using her foot, she pulled your chair closer and made you lean on her. You looked so peaceful. Your breathing was steady. You felt at peace. Miss Circle couldn't help but feel her heart swell with adoration.

This was okay. Next hour was her planning period anyway. She didn't mind this, not one bit. Miss Circle kept you close, her fingers gently trailing against your skin that left goosebumps in their wake.

"I suppose a few minutes wouldn't hurt," she whispered, her lips curling into a smile the longer her gaze stayed at yours. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead.

How sweet. ♡

☆------☆

I wrote this at 11 pm. It's not the greatest, but I hope this is well for you. ♡

[sinkovia]

Coffee Shop: III

Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

You work at a small cafe that Simon starts visiting when he’s not deployed.

Coffee Shop Masterlist

Simon became a regular at the cafe, and over the two weeks since he started coming in, you grew more comfortable with him. The small conversations flowed easily, and he often lightened the atmosphere with an awful joke. One of your favorites was about two goldfish in a tank.

As he sat in his usual spot, you heard the familiar tear of the napkin, watching him stick the flimsy little piece between the pages of his book and close it. As he got up from his seat, you couldn't resist questioning him.

“Why don’t you have any bookmarks?” shaking your head slightly as you observed the flimsy napkin flaying up and down with the book.

“Why would I spend money on bookmarks when there are free bookmarks right here,” he replied with a matter-of-fact tone, making you shake your head and laugh. “Right, well, have a nice day.”

After he left, you thought for a moment, looking at your bookmark. The idea struck you – why not bring in some paper, markers, and packing tape tomorrow? During your break, you could make bookmarks for him. It was a small gesture that you hoped would bring a smile to his face. 

When you got home, you eagerly packed your bag with small blank pieces of rectangular paper and your high-end markers. The art scissors and clear packing tape joined the mix as you prepared for the creative endeavor. Excitement filled you as you thought about surprising Simon with a proper bookmark.

Walking to work the next day, you felt a giddy anticipation. As he entered the cafe, he couldn't help but notice your extra liveliness, a departure from your usual demeanor. Approaching the register, he found a hot cup of tea already waiting for him.

"You were waiting on me?" he asked, and you responded with a smile and a nod. "Just thought it would be nice if your tea was already ready for you when you walked in," you explained, beaming up at him. Simon, in his typical fashion, decided to tease a bit.

"I actually wanted a green tea today." Your eyebrows raised, lips forming a small "o" of surprise. "I can get you a green tea—" you began, reaching for the cup, but Simon quickly pulled out money from his wallet.

"All jokes, love," he said, and you laughed, taking the bills and putting them in the register, closing it with a soft click. As the time passed slowly during your shift, you occupied yourself with various tasks like cleaning the coffee machine, sanitizing the counters, and refilling the sugar station, hoping to make it to your break sooner. Despite your efforts, only twenty minutes seemed to pass, and you decided to say fuck it since there were no customers coming in.

You grabbed your bag and walked over to Simon, taking the seat across from him at the small table. He looked up from his book, intrigued, as he watched you pull out colorful markers and paper. With bright eyes, you sat up in your chair.

“So what are some things you like?” Simon put his book down and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s the paper for?” You pulled out the bookmark from the book in your bag and slid it over to him. He grabbed it, holding it up and fighting back his smile at the small drawings of penguins near an ice globe fighting about communism.

“You want to make me a bookmark?”

“Yeah, it's so depressing looking at the flimsy excuse of a bookmark.” He smiled, looking at the napkin. “So what do you like? Stars? Dogs? Trees? Oh, wait! I have the perfect thing to draw.” 

Simon leaned back in the chair, sipping his tea, and watched you draw away, switching the color of the markers every so often. He found it cute the way you were concentrated on what was in front of you.

It only took you about five minutes, but when you were done, you held the bookmark up to Simon with a smile. He couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed it, examining all the little details you drew. It was the joke he had told you a few days ago.

Two goldfish are in a tank, one says to the other, you know how to drive this thing?

You drew two fish coming out of the top of an army tank, having a conversation with each other. You added them underwater and included little battle fish with helmets charging forward.

Your eyes lingered on his smile as he scanned over the drawing. Your heart warmed, knowing he liked it. You extended your hand, and he handed it back to you. Flipping it over, you looked at him, “What should be on the back?”

Simon thought it would be funny to tell you another joke. “What has two legs and bleeds?”

You thought for a moment, slightly humming to yourself. “A gunshot victim?”

“Half a dog.”

You blankly stared at him, then laughed, “You're awful for thinking of that.” He smiled and brought the cup up to his lips, taking a long sip. “You gonna draw it?”

“I’ll draw something better,” you said, smiling and already starting the drawing. You decided to draw a dog shooting a man. Giving the dog a suit and black sunglasses, you added a large assault rifle and made little bullets fly, piercing the man as he fell to the floor. You slid the final product over, and Simon let out an audible laugh. You couldn't hide the way your eyes locked onto his face.

"This is really good, y/n." You had never felt more proud, and you couldn't stop smiling even after he handed the bookmark back to you so you could put packing tape over it. Carefully cutting the extra tape that hung off the sides, you slid it back over to him.

Simon opened his book, took out the napkin, and replaced it with the bookmark, closing the book. "See, look how much better that looks."

"You're right." He looked up at you, holding your gaze, and you couldn't help but smile. The door opened, and you quickly got up, going behind the counter to take an order. After making the person's order, you walked back to Simon, sitting across from him again.

You took out another strip of paper, and you looked up at him, "Skulls." It was all he said, and you smiled, immediately getting to work. You drew little realistic skulls with blood oozing out of the eye sockets. Leaving some space in the middle, you drew a little grim reaper because Reaper and skulls go together, right?

"The reaper’s a nice touch." You smiled, finishing the last little details. "Thought you would like it."

You looked at the clock and cursed under your breath. Your break was over, and you had to get back to work. "Unfortunately, I have to get back to work. I’ll finish this side before you leave."

"Sounds good, love, and thank you for making them." You smiled as you put the markers and supplies back into your bag. "No need to thank me; I had fun drawing them."

As you stood behind the counter, you thought about what to draw on the other side. Glancing up at Simon, who was engrossed in his book, you decided he would be the perfect thing to put on the other side. You took your time drawing him, using different colors and creating a cute, colorful sketch of him sitting by the window, holding the cup to his lips as he looked down at a book. The drawing depicted a very warm scene, with small rays of sunshine through the window and added details on the table.

The small alarm on his watch went off, and he glanced at you doodling away. He pushed the off button and stayed in the seat, continuing to read until you were done drawing. You quickly cut the extra pieces of packing tape and walked over to him.

"Sorry, that took a bit longer than I expected." You handed him the bookmark, and as he took it, you heard your manager call you to the back.

"Shit, I have to go. Walk home safe." You turned and sped walked into the back towards the kitchen.

Simon turned, pushing the door open and flipping over the bookmark. His eyes grew a little wide upon seeing your drawing of him. No one had ever drawn him before, and the way you captured him so at peace with life and the things around him was something he never thought anyone could see. He felt something swirl deep in his chest, a warmth that enveloped his body despite it being winter. You drew in his watch and the torn napkin, even adding the six dollars he tipped you when he first went there. He smiled and couldn't stop staring at all the small details you added during his walk back home.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Accident

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Gorry!Reader

Summary: It wasn't planned

You were the best mistake Kyra ever made.

It was a complete accident when she kissed you, tripping in the crowded pub and smashing her lips against yours.

You giggled at the horrified look on her face when you helped her to stand, one of your hands still holding her waist. "Usually someone has to buy me a drink before kissing me."

You didn't yell at her or scream or punch her in the face so Kyra took it as a win even though her insides were twisting in horror and her face burned red.

"I can still buy you that drink?" Was what she offered in return.

"Sounds good."

Your love affair begun in that moment.

Kyra counted herself lucky that she managed to find the only other Aussie in London who wasn't attached to a football team. She also counted herself lucky that you avoided football like the plague.

Ever since the World Cup, the attention she was receiving was just a tad too excessive so it was nice to sit with you at home and relax, to not be Kyra Cooney-Cross the midfielder but just Kyra, your girlfriend.

"My sister plays," You said one evening as you swiped a chip off her plate," That's probably why I avoid it. Call me childish but I can't be into the same things my sister's into. It would make me seem like a very bad little sister."

"Or a good one, from her perspective," Kyra laughed.

"It's not that me and Kat aren't friends," You said," It's just we're very separate in our interests. I never really enjoyed being compared to her."

"And so you avoided football?" Kyra quirked a brow. "All football?"

"Well, clearly not all football," You replied, leaning forward to capture Kyra's soft lips with your own," Not yours."

Kyra drew away with a cocky smirk. "Of course not mine. You're my wag."

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever."

Domesticity with you was easy, Kyra found. It was completely stereotypical to move in after three dates but she was a big believer in if you know you know.

And Kyra knew.

So, she moved in with you.

You did the chores around each other. If you did the laundry then she did the dishes. If you hoovered then she polished. It was easier than ever before and Kyra settled easily into life with you.

"My sister's moving to London," You said one evening as you lay in bed together," Would you like to meet her?"

Kyra, who had been drawing absent patterns on your arm, froze. You didn't speak much about your sister just that she lived in Sweden with your niece and her fiancée. It was clear that you had a close relationship from the few times that you spoke about her.

Kyra's throat bobbed a little bit in worry.

You were her first proper girlfriend (and she was yours). She just knew that she had to make a good impression.

"You don't have to," You said when you noticed her silence," It was just an idea."

"No! No...I'd love to meet her."

"She'll love you, Kyra. I promise."

The week running up to meeting your sister was full of worry and anticipation. Kyra wrote out a script in her notes app about conversation starters and things to say about herself that would make her seem like the best possible partner for you.

She didn't want to leave anything up to chance with this. Not with you and not with your sister.

Kyra paced outside of the café where you agreed to meet her, wiping off her sweaty hands and muttering under her breath about how best to introduce herself.

"Kyra?" A familiar voice from behind said," Is something wrong?"

"Mini!" Kyra exclaimed," What are you doing here?"

"I'm meeting my sister soon," Mini said," She's meant to be telling me some big news. What about you? This is pretty far from St Albans, isn't it?"

Kyra laughed awkwardly. "I'm meeting my girlfriend's sister today. I want to make a good impression. I don't want her to kill me or something for knocking around with her little sister."

Mini laughed, clapping Kyra on the back. "Don't be stupid, Kyra," She said," You're the best girlfriend anyone can ask for. No one's going to want to kill you."

A blur appeared around the corner and you wedged yourself between the two of them, throwing your arms around both of them. "Kat! Kyra! You ruined the surprise! We were meant to tell her together!"

Kyra looked between you and Mini.

Mini looked between you and Kyra.

"She's your sister?!"

"You're dating Kyra?!"

You looked between them. "Do you two know each other?"

Kyra watched as Mini's eyes narrowed.

"I take back what I said," Mini said," I'm going to kill you."

[goldennikko]

I LUVIE YOU — huh yunjin

summary : you're a reveluv, but you love the leader of red velvet a little too much, making someone jealous.

pairing : yunjin x 6th member!reader

tags : idol!au ; reader is '01 liner ; jealous!yunjin ; reveluv!reader ; i'm too sleepy to put proper tags, but dw there's nothing too much in this one. it's just too long T~T

requested: ✔

word count : 5.2k

yunjin knew you were a big fan of red velvet, especially one particular member who everyone refers to as a goddess due to her mind-blowing, out-of-this-world visuals. since pre-debut days, the american has found it amusing to watch you freak out over the one and only bae joohyun whenever you see her on your phone during training. after debuting, your members had grown accustomed to sudden bursts of energy being released following a tiring practice session because you were always bound to listen to red velvet after every tiring session, the soothing voice of red velvet's leader filling your ears.

yunjin has always been a witness to your fangirl-like behavior and found it very amusing to watch.

that is, until yunjin developed the same feelings for the bae joohyun that you did, and the american found herself unable to laugh at your usually amusing antics. well, she tried not to, but she couldn't because you were too cute in her eyes.

yunjin fiddled with her chopsticks as she stared at you from the kitchen with such intensity that sakura, who was busy eating, couldn't help but notice. the japanese frowned at the glare on yunjin's face and followed her line of sight, eventually finding you shaking your poor leader on the couch in the living room. the bad boy music video you were previously watching was now abandoned as you went to bug your leader instead after chaewon made an unintentional statement that she quickly regretted.

"you've met irene sunbaenim?!" you shrieked, betrayal swimming in your shining orbs.

chaewon basically gave up right there, letting you shake her like a doll while silently looking for help from sakura and yunjin.

"correction, y/n-ie. it was chaeyeon, not me." chaewon grumbled.

despite yunjin's best efforts, sakura could hear her annoyed groan, and she cast another glance at the american, whose glare had been replaced with adoration as they watched your shoulders sag in defeat and collapse next to chaewon. yunjin returned her attention to the food, looking away from your defeated form, while sakura decided to assist chaewon.

"and that was during iz*one." sakura added.

"not even kkura unnie met irene sunbaenim." chaewon said, trying to make you feel better, but added more salt to sakura's wound.

the japanese's brow twitched in annoyance, despite her smile, prompting chaewon to apologize before turning to tame your hair. you simply huffed at them and crossed your arms, not looking away from the television.

"unfair."

yunjin snorted, causing sakura to return her gaze, but the american did not meet her unnie's waiting gaze. meanwhile, chaewon handed you your phone, which you used to take a picture of joohyun's overflowing visuals during bad boy era.

"another story? really?" chaewon mumbled from next to you, her eyes twinkling with delight as she watched you press on a bunch of hearts. the sight was not unfamiliar to her, but it still made her laugh because of your unending love for joohyun.

"shush, unnie."

yunjin's phone lit up next to her, drawing both sakura and her attention to it. yunjin didn't bother hiding the notification, which came from you, because she caught sakura's questioning yet teasing look. the american attempted to push down the blush that threatened to spread across her cheeks, but failed, so she hid her face behind her phone instead.

however, the american merely grumbled when joohyun's face greeted her once more, casting you a glance as you let out a high-pitched scream when the same woman who has plagued your mind since pre-debut days appeared on the screen. this time, you were watching peek-a-boo.

"what's the matter?"

yunjin showed her the screen, and sakura laughed at the army of pink hearts before looking at yunjin, who was glaring at her food. the older of the two shook her head at the obvious jealousy, but said nothing as she pieced everything together. while sakura was aware of the glares sent your way by yunjin, she never understood why. now, she did.

"since when?" sakura queried.

yunjin glanced at her, but shrugged. "i don't know what you're talking about, unnie."

sakura smirked. "sure, yunjin. sure."

yunjin ignored her as her gaze returned to you, her heart racing as she wondered if you could get any cuter than you are right now. one thing about yunjin was that she couldn't take her eyes off of you. it was a running joke in the fandom that yunjin was always staring at you with big heart eyes.

similar to what she was doing right now.

after being asked by the fans watching the live, you eagerly danced to zimzalabim, the reveluv within you sparking happily, and eunchae cheered you on. yunjin sat next to the maknae and was silent for once as she watched you with a small smile.

"wah. you were amazing, unnie!" eunchae grinned at you while giving you a big thumbs up.

you exaggerated a bow, which made yunjin laugh. "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

the american motioned for you to come over to where they were sitting. "come on over here, silly."

you smirked at your fellow '01 liner, but complied. you crossed your arms as you faced her, causing the other girl to raise her brows with a smile, while eunchae silently smiled because she already knew what was going to happen, scanning the comments, which were full of fans teasing yunjin's lovestruck gaze.

"are you calling my dance silly, yunjin-ssi?"

yunjin rolled her eyes. "i'm calling you silly, y/n-ssi."

you shook your head. "no, no. calling me silly means calling the dance silly, too. therefore, the reveluv in me is very disappointed and offended, yunjin-ssi."

eunchae cackled while yunjin looked at the phone for help, which the maknae noticed and immediately read the comments in response to yunjin's silent call for help.

"they're saying you're on your own, unnie—"

you grinned happily. "HAH! see? they're on my side!"

yunjin was dumbfounded, sending everyone a look of betrayal. "but her argument didn't even make sense!"

"doesn't matter, yunjin-ssi. now, you shall apologize." 

you jokingly raised your chin at the american, and she mumbled under her breath as she glared at you, but eventually relented. she knew she couldn't win this playful banter because her heart was already pounding in her chest and her mind, which was supposed to think logically, screamed at her to apologize. her very being and existence were vulnerable in the face of your adorable face.

if sakura or kazuha were present, the only other two members who were aware of yunjin's feelings, she would be teased nonstop. it won't be long before the eunchae and chaewon figure it out. 

well, actually, the way eunchae was looking at her right now, yunjin knew the maknae was already aware, but she needed confirmation. eunchae would most likely get one after the live ended.

however, as long as it was you, yunjin didn't mind if her pride suffered.

"fine. i'm sorry, y/n-ie."

you returned your attention to eunchae after you smiled and leaned against the american's body, which yunjin took pride in. the maknae began babbling about something, which yunjin tried to listen to but was distracted by your grip on her. the american grabbed your waist as she leaned in closer to the phone to scan the comments to distract herself, knowing that eunchae was well taken care of by her fellow '01 liner.

her face fell when a comment about a certain idol that you essentially worshipped appeared, which eunchae caught as she squinted her eyes to read the comment before it vanished. yunjin noticed the mischief in the maknae's eyes as she managed to draw your attention to said remark.

"unnie, there's a comment about irene sunbaenim."

"where?!"

at that, you jumped away from yunjin, causing the girl to squint her eyes in disbelief. 

at this point, it was unavoidable for you not to mention joohyun in a solo, unit, or group appearance. you mentioned the woman you adored every time, and it was no different this time, and yunjin had to listen to it all over again, all because of the evil maknae, who planned to torture her.

yunjin glared at eunchae from behind you, and the maknae simply grinned widely in response before they both turned to you because you had begun your detailed explanation of why you adored red velvet's leader.

"alright. first of all, have you seen her?! irene sunbaenim is so gorgeous like—" 

you panicked suddenly when you saw joohyun's face in your mind and waved your arms in the air, almost hitting yunjin. fortunately, she noticed it at the last second and was able to avoid it. as eunchae laughed, the girl glared at the side of your head in distaste, but you didn't notice her.

yunjin resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but she tuned out your irritating rant and tried to distract herself by scanning the comments, which were unfortunately filled with your beloved idol's name, causing her to look away in defeat.

"and her voice! i don't know. it's small, but soothing and really good to listen to?" you hummed thoughtfully.

"that's true, unnie." eunchae butted in, causing you to nod.

"also! she's so caring towards her members and really kind! she's also a good cook, according to what i've heard! not to mention, really generous..." you trailed off, recalling how she gifted her staff some really expensive things, but you shook your head to snap out of your lovestruck trance and resumed your rant.

"i don't know. she's just so… perfect!"

that was your conclusion before you changed the subject due to a fan's mention of food. eunchae joined in, but yunjin remained silent as her mind raced.

when you returned to the dorm, you went straight to your room, while yunjin stayed in the living room with chaewon. while sakura was still out on a schedule, eunchae joined you to get her daily dose of cuddles.

the only other two members awake were enveloped in silence, and chaewon found yunjin's behavior odd, frequently looking up from her phone to check on the emerican, who stared blankly at the wall. the leader, though concerned, waited for yunjin to open up, but after a solid 15 minutes, her concern about the american's unusual behavior only grew.

"yunjin—"

"unnie."

chaewon blinked at her dull voice and almost jumped out of her seat when yunjin turned her head to her leader. chaewon raised her eyebrows, urging yunjin to tell her what was bothering her, which yunjin did.

"am i gorgeous?"

despite being perplexed, chaewon responded to the question. she noticed no signs of insecurity in her eyes, which was a relief. besides, if yunjin was truly insecure, she would be in bed with you right now, not chaewon. however, she still found the american in front of her odd.

"yes, you are, jen."

"is my voice soothing and really good to listen to?" yunjin threw her another question, causing the frown on chaewon's forehead to deepen. yunjin either noticed but ignored or didn't notice chaewon's weirded out expression.

"you're a vocalist for a reason, yunjin." chaewon replied.

yunjin blinked. "am i caring and kind?"

it was chaewon's turn to blink as she wondered just where the hell these questions were coming from, but she decided to join in whatever games yunjin was playing, if indeed this was one.

"yes."

"am i a good cook?"

chaewon sighed, her patience dwindling, as she ran her hand down her face. yunjin, on the other hand, remained unaffected and waited for her leader's response, which chaewon begrudgingly provided after seeing the blank yet awaiting gaze.

"jesus christ, yunjin. yes, you are a good cook. y/n-ie has mentioned numerous times."

a flash of emotion flashed across the american's eyes, causing chaewon to raise a brow, but yunjin didn't give her a chance to respond as she turned around to retire to her room, but not before thanking her leader.

chaewon frowned as yunjin walked upstairs before eunchae appeared with a sleepy grin and sakura made her presence known by placing a hand on chaewon's shoulder.

"what the hell was that?" chaewon asked, perplexed.

sakura chuckled. "chaewon-ah, a certain someone likes a certain someone in this dorm."

chaewon blinked. "eh? yunjin likes someone?" 

sakura gave the younger girl a look, waiting for it to click, which didn't take too long. 

oh. 

chaewon sighed in disbelief as realization dawned on her face. meanwhile, eunchae greeted sakura with a hug while mumbling into the coat sakura forgot to take off after hearing yunjin's strange questions as soon as she entered the dorm.

"yunjin unnie was blushing."

chaewon snickered and rose to assist sakura with her coat, as eunchae refused to let go of the newly arrived japanese girl. "after i told her about y/n?"

eunchae nodded in response, not bothering to mention the words' familiarity. but sakura already knew because she had been watching the live stream, and chaewon was bound to find out soon enough, given that she had been on her phone earlier. she'd later discover your and joohyun's names, along with eunchae and yunjin, were trending.

"how come we never knew?" chaewon queried thoughtfully.

sakura shrugged. "exactly my question."

eunchae rubbed her eyes. "i think kazuha unnie knows."

chaewon and sakura shared an amused look. "of course zuha would."

yes, kazuha knew. even before yunjin told her about her conflicting emotions—conflicting because yunjin didn't even want them in the first place, but she couldn't do anything about it if her heart was fiercely beating for a certain girl in the group.

the poor ballerina, on the other hand, was unfortunately very much aware of what others couldn't see due to her observant nature, but she didn't mind. only that it irritates her to no end to watch some people dance around their obvious feelings, at least to kazuha, rather than acting on them.

but now, kazuha is watching you bounce all over the place due to your excitement. the group would be attending a variety show, and your beloved idol would be there as one of the emcees. your nervousness and exhilaration initially clashed within you, but the latter eventually won. therefore, your members and staff had an excessively happy puppy.

you were not informed that you would be attending this show because they knew you would be overjoyed for days and they wouldn't be able to handle you. yunjin, in particular, who grumbled when told a few days earlier by chaewon and was pouting in the corner at the moment, her eyes following your every move with an irritated scowl.

"I'M MEETING IRENE SUNBAENIM!"

yunjin's glaring eyes were caught by kazuha, but the latter averted her gaze with a click of her tongue before returning to watching you. however, the ballerina could see the affection buried behind the very thin line of displeasure in her eyes, causing her to chuckle, but she stopped when you halted in front of her.

"i'm so excited, zuha-yah." you bounced in front of her.

kazuha smiled and reached for your hand to ground you. "please calm down, unnie."

"i can't!" you whined, pouting.

chaewon came over and attempted to pat your head, but she couldn't reach your height, so she patted your cheek instead.

"you'll get tired if you keep bouncing around, so please sit with yunjin for a while."

yunjin snapped out of her glaring at the mention of her name and panicked internally as she saw you walking up. she yelped, barely catching you as you dramatically fell on her, but she sighed as you nestled up against her embrace.

"you scared me, dumbass."

you chuckled. "sorry. chaewon unnie told me to relax with you."

yunjin scoffed, but tightened her grip around your waist. "relaxing with me doesn't mean falling on me, y/n."

you, on the other hand, did not respond to her. yunjin took a brief glance but ended up staring when she discovered your eyelids had fallen shut.

sakura, who was still sat in front of the mirror, noticed you finally relaxing with the resident american. she smiled at the thought that yunjin was the only one who could ground you. you were always so quick to surrender to yunjin's familiar warmth and soothing embrace, and yunjin was always ready to offer it to you when you needed it.

"they're so cute, unnie!" eunchae squealed, but tried to keep it down as she approached sakura, and the older of the two agreed.

"when is yunjin unnie going to confess though?" kazuha stressed from nearby.

"speaking of." chaewon piped up. "since when, zuha?"

kazuha shrugged. "since forever, unnie! it's actually stressing me out."

the others laughed, and kazuha sighed before joining them. it was peaceful for a while before the group was summoned to the set and you were back on bouncing, but this time in anxiety.

"y/n, please settle down." chaewon sighed.

"i can't stop it!" you whisper-yelled.

kazuha shot yunjin a look, but the american was already approaching you. while you were jumping, a hand grabbed your waist and pulled you into the familiar warmth of yunjin's body. you stumbled, but her other hand darted out to hold your elbow steady.

"calm down please."

you gave her a timid smile, and she rolled her eyes tenderly, squeezing you in assurance. she couldn't feel anything other than admiration right now as she clutched you closely. you enjoyed yunjin's presence while remaining silent, and yunjin did the same before the peace was disrupted once more.

when the chatters were heard, everyone turned, and your eyes widened, meeting the bae joohyun's gentle eyes. you bowed profusely, and she returned it with a wide smile.

although joohyun's bow was meant for everyone, her gaze lingered a little too long on you, which yunjin noticed. her grasp on your waist tightened and she drew you closer, but you were too preoccupied with seeing your beloved idol walk away.

"holy shit, jen."

yunjin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "yeah, yeah. i know, y/n."

soon enough, the show began, and you spent nearly half of it looking at the woman. you were relieved that you didn't have to speak as much, but whenever you did, chaewon would nudge you out of your daydream and sakura would help you with your words because you seemed to have forgotten how to speak. throughout the ordeal, eunchae was just silently chuckling. 

meanwhile, yunjin was next to you, watching you stare and stumble over your words, sadness in the pit of her stomach physically hidden by a trained grin. kazuha, on the other hand, noticed and patted her on the back.

joohyun didn't take long to notice your dazed stare. she was speaking as scripted, but suddenly laughed, flustered, when she caught your starstruck expression, confusing everyone. you blinked and pointed at yourself, your gaze briefly meeting yunjin's.

"i'm sorry. y/n-ssi, you just look so adorable."

you flushed as crimson as a tomato at the compliment and bowed excessively, words of gratitude stumbling out of your mouth in a hurry. your members teased you as yunjin laughed genuinely this time because she agrees with her senior, heart flipping at the sight of your red face.

"i'm sorry. it's just… i'm a really big fan, sunbaenim." you admitted shyly.

joohyun gave you a wide smile. "seulgi and wendy told me, and i've also seen clips of your… admiration."

you shrieked and used yunjin as your human shield to hide your embarrassment. despite the displeasure she was feeling, yunjin held you while the others laughed before you were pulled out of protection by chaewon.

"and thank you so much for loving me." joohyun said, causing you to bow. 

you were at a loss for words, but the next thing she said prompted you to shut down and flee to hide from everyone.

"but i can say i'm a fan, too, y/n-ssi. your voice is really good to listen to and you're perfect."

you hid among the members of the group's management staff, and yunjin was ready to retrieve you when joohyun beat her to it. with a small frown that she quickly hid, yunjin watched silently as joohyun coaxed you out of hiding.

"i'm sorry, come on. don't hide."

yunjin looked at your joined hands as you practically melted with the senior next to you and in your presence. when the displeasure growing in her chest became too great for her to bear, the american had to look away, but she peered at your flustered state when joohyun successfully drew you back next to her.

the show went on without a hitch except for you being teased for having such admiration for the woman while yunjin remained unusually silent, joining in here and there when she felt like it or when you clutched to her arm.

and yunjin couldn't enjoy your touch as much as she wanted to because your eyes were on someone else. if she wanted your attention, she needed it all. she didn't like sharing. but then again, you weren't hers to share with anyone in the first place.

the show came to a conclusion, and you were swept away by the one and only joohyun. it was obvious that the woman had developed feelings for you, but everyone knew, including yourself, it was joohyun's motherly instincts kicking in.

everyone knew, but yunjin.

yunjin felt she couldn't endure the anguish at the sigh of you being held by another and turned on her heels to flee after seeing how caring and loving joohyun was to you. she attempted to be covert and quick, but as soon as she tried to blend into the crowd, a pair of eyes were trained on the back of her head like a target.

yunjin was soon back at the dorm. she laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. her thoughts was blank, but she was aching all over and wasn't sure if it was because of you or just tiredness. however, she didn't bother figuring it out because your interactions with your favorite idol played out in her head like a romance movie.

yunjin couldn't get it out of her head, no matter how hard she tried.

fortunately, although being out of it at the time, yunjin was able to process the knock on her door. she got to her feet and opened the door, her eyes widening when she saw your hesitant form. her eyes swept over your body, finding you adorable in the pajamas she had bought you at random, and she smiled weakly.

"y/n? it's late."

you shuffled around, refusing to meet her eyes. "i know. i'm sorry, were you already sleeping?"

yunjin shook her head and stepped aside to let you in. "no, no. i couldn't sleep."

you gave her a short smile, and yunjin almost fell over simply to see it again, but she kept her composure as she followed you to her bed. after noticing your hesitation, the american took a seat and motioned for you to do the same.

"is everything okay? did you get a nightmare?" yunjin fussed over you, brows furrowed in worry.

you shook your head. "no, no. i'm fine. i just… wanted to check on you."

yunjin's heart wrenched as you looked up at her, your hesitation spinning in your orbs. the american sighed and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear before caressing your chin to make you hold her stare, which you had avoided since entering her room.

"i appreciate, but why?" yunjin asked.

you fiddled with your thumbs. "i saw you leaving earlier and you were ignoring me."

yunjin quickly shook her head. she wasn't ignoring you, and she didn't mean to. she just avoided interactions with you in order to process the concept of you and joohyun, but she kept an eye on you throughout the craziness of eventually finishing the day.

"i was not ignoring you, but i'm sorry if it felt like that." yunjin murmured softly, leaning down to meet your gaze. "i was just tired."

but you shook your head. "i know you, jen, we've been friends for so long. what's wrong?"

yunjin frowned, ignoring the painful tug on her heart at the term you used, which was true. the american considered the pros and cons of giving you the truth against fabricating a lie, but the way you were looking at her right now with such vulnerability and worry broke yunjin's resolve.

"i…" yunjin trailed off before sighing. "i've always been content to admire you silently."

yunjin smiled as she opened her mouth to spill her inevitable confession after a quick prayer for her soul and you to take it kindly, ignoring the large part of her wishing that you'd accept her confession.

"i've memorized every single habit you've established over the years, no matter how long ago you developed them or how recently it came up. i have liked every single one of your antics, and no matter how ridiculous they were, i always thought you were so adorable." 

yunjin smiled softly, and you returned it shyly, a scarlet hue flashing over your nose, but then her grin faded slightly. you pricked up, worried, and wanted to reach out to perhaps console her, but you hesitated. you weren't sure if she wanted your comfort, so you opted to listen. yunjin, on the other hand, saw the nearly imperceptible movement of your hand and couldn't help the quick smile.

yunjin sighed. "y/n, i swear i tried. i was perfectly satisfied with just admiring you silently. i tried to ignore the negative side of my feelings—the annoyance, the sadness, the displeasure. everything."

"but i can't pretend you don't effect me anymore, and believe me when i say i don't mind, but it just hurts."

yunjin observed calmly as the gears in your brain turned to quickly absorb her words, but you frowned in uncertainty. yunjin knew you understood; you weren't that stupid. she also knew you needed more assurance and simple words since you were concerned you were reading too much into her little statement.

so yunjin gave you a teary grin because she knew her next words would define your relationship.

"i like you, y/n. more than a friend should."

you hung your head, teeth biting into your bottom lip, as the words smacked you in the face. yunjin stared at the top of your head, willing herself to be prepared for your rejection, but every fiber of her being knew she wouldn't take it well. 

when you raised your head again, her breath caught in her throat as she saw your sweet smile and loving eyes, hope flooding her chest.

"i knew."

it was yunjin's turn to be astounded. her eyes widened as she leaned forward, encouraging you to repeat it and making you laugh.

"you weren't subtle, but i didn't allow it get to my head just in case i was reading too much into your intentions." you grinned happily.

"but you weren't." yunjin mumbled.

you nodded. "turns out i wasn't."

"so?"

you laughed again, and yunjin took satisfaction in it as she saw you toss your head back. but when you leaned into her face with a smirk, the softness in your gaze was swiftly replaced by mischief. yunjin's heart skipped a beat as she tried, but eventually failed, not to gaze down at your lips.

"yunjin?"

she glanced up at you. "yeah?"

"were you jealous of irene unnie?"

yunjin's brow twitched at the title you were now permitted to use for your adored idol, and she tried to control herself, although she had no reason to do so this time. so she rolled her eyes so hard that you were scared they'd get trapped in the back, but you laughed in delight.

"i was not." yunjin denied, looking away.

you poked her nose. "looking away is a sign of lying, did you know that?"

yunjin huffed, but complied. she returned your gaze and her breath hitched once more as your palm reached up to caress her jaw. when you leaned in closer, she swallowed nervously, your warm breath hitting her cold lips. yunjin wanted to close the unpleasant gap between you, but decided to give you complete control.

and yunjin couldn't have been more grateful when you captured her lips.

sparks flew, butterflies swarmed, and every cliche she could think of occurred at the same time. yunjin's eyes fell shut as she tilted her head and reached for your neck to lock you in place.

at the same time, seconds felt both too long and too short. yunjin couldn't determine which of the two, but her attention was quickly drawn to the way you rested your brow against hers and inhaled lightly to catch your breath, which yunjin had taken from you.

"took you long enough." you chuckled. "i like you, too."

yunjin smiled. relief washed over her as her heart flipped a few times and she sought for your hand, the other still resting on your neck, refusing to let you go this time.

"you never dropped hints." yunjin panted.

you shook your head with a small huff. "neither did you, jen, but i just thought you were too perfect to even notice me."

"more perfect than irene sunbaenim?" yunjin joked, not wasting the opportuniy given to her. you gave her a look, almost as if judging the american, causing her to grin. "but i notice you, i do see you."

yunjin brought your hand to her lips and a faint smile appeared on her face, prompting you to return it, albeit sheepishly, as she pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

"and i like you so much, y/n."

you laughed at her goofy antics and squeezed her hand, a blush covering your cheeks that yunjin thought was adorable on you.

"i like you, too, so much, yunjin."

she hummed. "what about irene sunbaenim?"

you chuckled and pulled away to flick her forehead, causing her to yelp in pain.

"what the hell?!"

"joohyun unnie knew about you." you said, causing your girlfriend to frown in confusion. "i told her because unnie noticed the way you were glaring at her."

yunjin flushed. her jealousy was evident to the naked sight. to make matters worse, it was joohyun who noticed. the one she allegedly despised saw the look. you laughed at her, and she flashed you a short frown before sighing.

"i need to apologize and clarify some things."

you nodded in agreement. "you do, baby. you do."

yunjin's heart skipped a beat when she looked at you. you returned it until you felt embarrassed, bending in to avoid her sight. before leaping from the bed, you laid a delicate kiss on her lips. yunjin pouted and reached out to you as you approached the door.

"where are you going, my love? you can just sleep with me."

you smiled, red in the face. "i know, but i'm going to the kitchen; kkura unnie is cooking, and i believe everyone has arrived."

you opened the door and gave her one more look before disappearing down the dimly lighted corridor.

"i luvie you, jennifer huh."

yunjin, who was normally annoyed by your reveluv side because you idolized a particular leader, rolled her eyes fondly as she rose to her feet. before leaving her room to follow you, she picked up her phone and smiled at the lockscreen of your face that you had set a few weeks previously.

"i luvie you, too, l/n y/n."

nikko note: I'M SO SORRY IF THE REQS ARE SLOW, YOU GUYS. I'M LEGIT DROWNING IN MY SCHOOL SHIT, SO I'M VV SORRY. I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH, I'M SOOO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU WAIT HUHU I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE SLOW UPDATES AJDJJWJS anyways, i hope you liked this one! let me know if this was okay? and so sorry for mistakes, i'm legit sleepy. thank you, have a great one!

[fontvine]

nsfw alphabet for wriothsley please ?

CW - gn!reader, pre wriothesley release, blood, breeding

A = aftercare (what they're like after sex)

very attentive yet quiet - he has a list of things he does without skipping or doing any of them out of order to ensure you feel comfortable and safe with him afterwards

B = body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)

wriothelsey loves your neck... specifically the back of it tho - something about the little hairs that line the base of your skull and how his fingers look as they trace the muscles in you neck makes him flustered

C = cum (anything to do with cum basically... i'm a disgusting person)

while he loves to see you coated or filled with his cum, something about seeing your own release coating his scarred skin really does it for him - he'll make you ride his abs, smearing your cum and arousal all over only to press his hand to his stomach so he see the little strings that connect between them afterwards

D = dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

when your nails scratch down his back or down his front, he'll purposely put his weight into your nails, allowing them to dig deep enough to draw blood - if he's not in pain for the next few days, then it wasn't good enough

E = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

he's certainly dabbled in sexual escapades but never let anyone get too close to him - considering his occupation, he rarely had time to be doing anything outside of casual hookups

F = favourite position (this goes without saying)

missionary - simple man who likes the simple position that allows him to look at you without strain and allows your hands to reach every bit of his skin

G = goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

wriothesley is definitely more serious than anything else - he may let out little breathless giggles alongside you but wouldn't crack jokes or do anything purposeful to make you laugh

H = hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

he tries his best to remain pretty well groomed but his hair gets unruly at times - if he's more swamped at work than usual then he may let go of his grooming habits

I = intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

very intimate - since you are probably the only one who had really gotten close enough to see wriothesley for who he really is, he uses sex to really let his guard down around you

J = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

he only jacks off if he cannot get to you in a timely matter - at work when you're on the surface and he's borderline trapped in the four walls of his office is one of the only times he gets off by himself

K = kink (one or more of their kinks)

scratching, minor blood kink, restraints, biting, breeding

L= location (favourite places to do the deed)

in the comfort of your home together or in his office (when you visit him)

M = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

wriothesley strives to make you scream for him and to have the both of you dripping with one another - be it literally or just draped in the marks of one another

N = NO (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

hurting you to the point of inducing fear - he dabbles in minor pain play but the minute fear crosses your face he'll be off you in a second (he wants to induce reactions, but never fear)

O = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

isn't a huge fan or oral going either way but he'll never deny you if you want it, be it him going down or you going down on him

P = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

very rarely does wriothesley go slow or gentle - he's an hardened person by nature and does prefer when things are more heated between the two of you, however thats not to say he wouldn't be gentle with you once and a while

Q = quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

doesn't mind quickies but he does prefer to be able to go at his own pace without being rushed

R = risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks?)

as long as it doesn't break the law wriothesley will do almost anything under the sun - he won't push the rules passed their set boundaries but he will push just to the surface of them

S = stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long?) 

man has stamina for days - he deals with rowdy gang members for a career so he's able to go for a solid three rounds before he starts feeling anything

T = toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

wriothesley is a man who finds confidence in his body and that solely so he would utterly despise anything that brings you pleasure outside of himself or your own fingers

U = unfair (how much they like to tease)

outside of edging or dirty talk, he keeps the teasing to a minimal

V = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

he'll grunt, growl, and sigh loudly, but unless he lets you top him, thats all your'll really hear from him (when you top he does not keep his mouth shut whatsoever)

W = wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

wriothesley has rules in the bedroom - while they aren't the most serious ones, some include telling him everything and anything you are feeling, not holding back your sounds, and never holding back from leaving marks on him

X= x-ray (let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

a beefy man with a girthy 7 inch cock - truly the veins that line his cock drag so delightfully on your gummy walls - his cock is also ever so slightly curved upwards

Y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

it really ranges for him - sometimes he only really finds himself horny when you are, but other times he drags you to the bedroom three times a day to fuck like rabbits

Z = ZZZ (…. how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he waits for you to sleep before he rests himself - like i said about aftercare with him, wriothesley has a list of things he does after sex so he doesn't rest until you're cleaned up and comfortable

[desceros]

INT DISCORD - EVENING @thejudiciousneurotic: i'm drawing a comic where leo talks about how he accidentally sent someone his nudes me: oh. now i wanna write a fic where leo flirts with you by "accidentally" shooting you his nudes me: ...trade u for the comic thejudiciousneurotic: 🤝 me: 🤝 leonardo/reader, female reader, rated m

You’re having a very nice lunch with April and Casey when your phone vibrates where it rests next to your plate.

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) [image]

Oh boy. What does this goober want?

Normally, you aren’t one to check your phone while eating with others. It’s kind of rude, and you don’t get enough time with the three of you hanging out like this. But April’s busy trying to make Casey laugh so hard his drink comes out of his nose, and—and you’re curious, because it’s Leo, and he’s sent you a picture.

You open the message app, and blink. It's not a meme, or a dorky selfie, or something pretty like he sometimes finds while he's wandering about and shoots your way to share.

It’s… a picture of him. The kind that he’d usually put on his So-Shell, you note, wondering why he’d sent it to you specifically. A little bit of a suggestive pose: his arms curling in just a manner to accentuate the way his arms have been getting big lately, one leg crossed over the other to show off how long they are, fingers framing that smug smirk he gets sometimes when he—

—oh.

Oh, god.

Leo isn’t wearing his mask. Or—or anything, you suddenly realize. No wraps. No socks. 

…Are these… nudes?!

Quickly, feeling your face burn hot, you look up to check in with April and Casey. They’re both still fucking around on the other side of the table. She’s tickling him, he’s giggling. Normal. Normal. They haven’t noticed that you’re a few degrees shy of combustion. Cool, cool. No one’s noticed that your best friend—friend friend just a friend!—has sent you his smoldering-hot naked body.

Quickly, you stop yourself, inhaling deep before you go too deep into it. No, that’s silly. He’s a fucking turtle. So he’s not wearing socks. Or forearm wraps. Or—Or his mask, which you’ve never seen him without before. So it’s a sexy pose in front of a mirror. It’s—It’s not anything salacious, if you don’t make it such. 

You start typing, just the usual compliment that you usually give his pictures on So-Shell, maybe a fire emoji, and—

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) oops! didn’t mean to send that!

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) just uh. pretend i didn’t just accidentally send you a nude. haha :)

“Oh my god,” you quietly whimper. It is a nude. 

The proper thing would be, of course, to do as he asks. Spam a bunch of junk until it disappears to the void of the past conversation. Laugh it off with him. Tell him a joke to make him feel better when he’s probably fucking mortified. 

…A little like how you’re mortified the moment you tap on the picture, making it bigger. 

God damn it. It’s… It’s so unfair how good he looks, you think, biting on the inside of your cheek. He’s finally hit that growth spurt Casey has warned everyone was coming, and he’s just so—so big. Towering over you easily. Putting on muscle like it’s as easy as putting on a shirt. Moving like silk through the air. Comfortable in his skin and knowing he looks good.

A fresh memory comes to mind. How the other day, he’d picked you up in one hand to snag the blanket you’d been sitting on to hand to Donnie where he’d been whining about being chilly. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon uncomfortably wet and turned on, hoping to god his sensitive turtle nose couldn’t pick up on it as he draped an arm on your shoulder for the last half of the movie and pulled you to lean into his plastron.

(...Friends cuddle, right? Totally. Friends totally cuddle.)

Plus he’s just… pretty. The way his cheekbones curve, the markings on his face cutting beautiful lines around his eyes, eyes that you can see without his mask in the way. The breath catches in your lungs as you stare into where they’re half-lidded in the picture, turning the smirk into something sultry. The smirk, framed by fingers that are long and thick and—

“Oh fuck,” you choke, clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. 

(...Friends think about getting fingered by their friends, right?! Right?! Oh god, oh fuck—)

“You good?” April asks, finally looking away from Casey who is dabbing at his face and bellowing with agony. Oof, carbonation up the nose. Not fun.

“…I’m so good,” you tell her around the knot in your throat, fingers going tight on your phone. Gah. You have to leave now or else she’ll suss out what’s wrong and you’re pretty sure you’d rather die than admit you’re getting flustered off of Leonardo’s mess up. “Say, uh. I—I have to go to the bathroom. Right now. For a while. I’ll be back.”

You can feel her eyes between your shoulder blades as you flee her knowing eyes, quickly going into the stand-alone bathroom in the cute little café and snapping the door shut behind you. You slump back against it, whipping out your phone and looking at it a bit like it’s a ticking time bomb. 

Which it kind of is, you realize with a sudden terror. You haven’t responded to him yet. He would have seen the little dots where you’d given away you were typing. That you’d had his picture in your face. He knows you’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, and time is passing while he’s sitting there, knowing there’s a fucking nuke on your screen. Oh god. Oh fuck.

Stupid sexy turtle, you think, hands trembling as you compose a very normal, very chill response. You only delete three before you settle on the last and send it.

sent (12:45 p.m.) no worries! i didn’t see anything, haha :)

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) hm. you sure? you sure took a while to respond

Oh god. Embarrassment lights your blood on fire. He knows. He totally knows. Fuck, it feels like he knows how you zoomed the fuck in and had to press your goddamn thighs together beneath the table. Swallowing thickly, you try to do as much damage control as you can. 

sent (12:45 p.m.) i mean, of course i saw it. i was curious!

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) oh yeah? what were you so curious about?

sent (12:45 p.m.) i. you know. i’ve never seen you without your mask. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) you know you can ask, right? i’ll take it off for you whenever you want.

You fumble your phone. What the fuck. Is this happening. Quickly, you look up. Yep. You’re still here. A quick pinch reminds you that it isn’t a dream. It’s quarter til one on a Saturday, and your childhood friend has sent you a nude on accident and then said that. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) is that something you want? seeing me without my mask?

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) i’d do it. for you.

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) no wraps. no socks. no mask. 

“…Holy shit,” you mutter, feeling a little dizzy. You gape, unsure of how to respond, how to fucking breathe. Then, you nearly jump out of your skin when the phone of your screen fills with a selfie of you and Leo in a photobooth at Alberto Land, feather boas and silly matching heart-shaped glasses stupid on your face. 

Oh fuck. He’s calling you. 

“Where are you right now?” Leo asks as soon as you answer the call, not waiting for you to find your voice, his words velvet in your ears.

Defensive at how you’re reacting, protecting your friendship with him tooth and nail, you claw out of the fog that had settled and made you stupid. You narrow your eyes at the hand dryer next to you. “…Did you actually ‘accidentally’ send me that picture, Leonardo?”

His laugh fills your ears like wine; rich, decadent, intoxicating. Warmth blooms in your chest. “Where are you, beautiful?”

That’s about as close to an admission as you’re probably going to get, you think. The pet name, familiar in shape but foreign in tone, makes your stomach dip. Licking your lips, you try one more time. 

“…Why are you sending me your nudes?” you ask, air catching in your throat, voice quiet but feeling loud in the privacy of the bathroom. 

“Why are you looking at them?” he responds cheekily. You bite down on the snarky response that reflexively comes to the surface; am I not supposed to, goober? There’s something glittering in the air, an invitation for something, and it makes you hesitate. Makes you look at the boundary of the lines you’ve drawn around him. Wonder what they’d look like a little smudged. 

“I… wanted to see,” you admit, feeling a little breathless, wondering if you sound so. If he can tell you’re on the edge of a cliff, feeling a bit like maybe you’re ready to take a step and fall.

“See what?” he asks. Voice lower still. Umbrous. Hypnotic. Tantalizing.

“You. Without—Without your mask. Without… any of it.”

His phone ever so slightly picks up on a sensuous rumble that comes from deep inside his shell. The sound of it makes you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your eyes fall shut. It’s an easy fantasy, thinking of feeling it in your flesh.

Leo says your name. It’s not a way you’ve ever heard him do so, before. It pricks your attention, hooking into it, pulling it where he wants it. “Where are you?”

You tell him. A second later, your eyes flare with familiar blue light. Two seconds later, your back is against the bathroom door, the sound of the lock clicking loud in your ears as he reaches over and ensures no one will be interrupting.

“Leo, you—!” you gasp, the barest amount of protest that he cuts through as easily as if he’d taken his katana to it. 

“I got tired of waiting. And you want to see,” he says, his fingers finding your chin and holding you in place, his mouth hovering over yours, his breath hot against where you can’t breathe. His other hand finds the curve of your hip, pulling it to meld to his own, his plastron pressing you to the door. “So look while you still can, pretty little thing. Because you’ve got about three minutes before I plan on getting my face between your legs for a long, long time.”

Later, much later, after you nearly bite through your palm trying to keep quiet through the several orgasms he easily eats out of you, after he portals you back to the lair and he pins you to that cursed mirror in his bedroom so you can see how good he looks while fucking you stupid, after he crawls over you in his sheets and slowly curls his fingers together with yours while rolling his hips to get slow and deep to drive you absolutely insane, your phone vibrates again.

This time, you ignore it, fully fucked out, completely disinterested in moving from beneath where Leo’s snoring into your shoulder, having everything you can possibly want within arm’s reach for the foreseeable future.

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) lmao did you fall in?

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) hellooooooo

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) …since leo’s also not answering i’m guessing you’re with him. girl u Gotta let me know when you dip so i don’t worry >:T

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) also. ugh. can you two just make out already? the pining is getting ridiculous. and don’t tell me i’m just imagining things again. i’m sooooo bored by your excuses

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) grabbed your leftovers for you. love you ttyl byeeee

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 3

Part 1|Part 2

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. Some things will probably be changed for the Ao3 version, this is very much first draft and I want to do a proper rewrite before then.

Jason parked his bike next to the Batmobile. There was a strange air in the Batcave or maybe it was just him being different. He couldn’t tell for sure. He stepped off the bike so he had his back towards Bruce, who sat by the Batcomputer with his cowl off. Jason could still feel his gaze when he looked up. He didn’t know what to feel. Where was he supposed to start?

“Little Wing!” Dick announced happily, suddenly slinging an arm across his shoulder from behind. It was only all his training that stopped him from jumping three feet into the air from the fright and he managed to just tense - but that was normal. Dick would consider that normal. Pull yourself together, Jason, he scolded himself. Normal, act normal, for one long moment he was grasping for what was normal. It definitely wasn’t the urge to lean into his big brother.

“Jay?” Dick asked quietly, worried, thankfully too quiet for anyone to hear. Panic grasped him and he elbowed Dick to get him off. Dick bent over with an oomph. At least elbowing Dick was a normal response, even if it was for the wrong reason.

Ignoring the strange urge to check on Dick, he squared his shoulders, firmly didn’t look back and walked forward towards the Batcomputer, where now that he had arrived the rest of this night’s patrol team gathered. Damian already out of his suit with damp hair and a towel slung around his neck glanced surreptitiously at Jason out the corner of his eyes even as he pretended to look towards Bruce - brat was still worried. Tim was curled up in an office chair doing who knew what with his laptop in a way that did not seem conducive to the healing of the broken ribs he’d been benched for. Bruce himself, paused what he was doing and spun around in his chair. Even sitting he managed to draw everyone’s attention, Tim even closed his laptop.

Jason purposefully crossed his arms and widened his stance. That’s what they expected of him, probably? How did he usually stand? He usually always felt one wrong comment away from a fight when he was here, he should stand like he expected it, right? Defensive.

This was exhausting.

At last Dick walked up to them completing their loose circle. He was rubbing his side and Jason felt a stab of worry and guilt. Had he aggravated an existing wound? Shit. Fuck. What was wrong with him? Why was he so worried?

“Oracle,” Bruce spoke, “please start.”

“Thanks to Hood, we now have a better headshot of the thief,” Oracle announced from the computer speakers“The Ghost,” Dick interjected in a sing song voice, “after what happened tonight you can’t disagree.”“Nightwing,” Barbara replied flatly, she didn’t even need to say she thought it was a stupid name. “The thief,” she reiterated in a way that left no room for any other arguments and Dick wisely held his silence. At least Dick knew Barbara well enough when to stop. Finally she pulled two photos up on the large screen. The one on the right was an older/early photo with the green glassed goggles obstructing much of the upper half of the face, a grin was a sharp line of white on the lower half of the face in the blurry photo, the quality was terrible and caught in movement.

The newer photo on the left showed a young man, maybe even late teens, eyes were wide, bright green, not quite glowing and his face beet red in embarrassment, mouth slightly open - this was taken just after he’d pushed away from Jason. His goggles sat at the edge of his messy black hair, just high enough to see the way he was beginning to swell on his forehead where Jason had clocked him.

Jason looked from one picture to the other, something was off to him. The grin was an obvious difference, but these where snapped in very different moments, and he shouldn’t let different emotions cloud his judgment.

“He’s lost weight.” The realization hit him with the certainty of a sledgehammer.

There’s dubious mumbling around him, about the blurriness of the first picture. But Jason is unmoved, there’s a hollowness to the guy’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“We can’t really judge that sort of thing with the quality of the first image,” Barbara cut through the murmurs. Jason knows he right, but he doesn’t feel like arguing.

He doesn’t feel like arguing, it’s another realization that leaves him wrong footed and he’s not listening for a minute. Checking back into the conversation he only caught the tail end of the conversation that was apparently about the Meta’s skills.“-we can now add phase shifting powers-““Like a Ghost.”

Tim groaned and Barbara outright growled - Jason reevaluated his earlier thought that Dick knew Barbara’s limits. Damian had already accepted the logic and Bruce had long since become immune to this sort of Dick antic.

“Back on topic,” was all he said. “Tim.”

Tim opened his laptop back up.

“Yes, so the items the thief-” There was a small beat as everyone waited for Dick to interrupt, Tim was side-eyeing him but continued; “-is stealing are still painting a very alarming picture, and there is a multitude of very dangerous uses, not to mention what kind of world ending horror they could be built into. Luckily he didn’t get the prototype spectral calibrator tonight, and we’ll be keeping it here for the time being and set the project on an indefinite hold at Wayne Enterprise.”Tim looked up at Bruce. “We’ll be needing to monitor Star Labs as they have a similar project, but so far the Ghost has not operated outside of Gotham to our knowledge.”

Bruce nodded, “I’ll arrange something.”

It was a signal for Tim to continue, “we’re still no closer to a way to capture him and the phase shifting is a whole other added concern. We’ll need to figure out if there’s something he can’t phase through, some denser materials perhaps. I just finished looking through tonight’s footage and from what I’m seeing at least the new filter program is holding up; both the audio and visuals have very few glitches now. But we still don’t know how he’s sending out the electromagnetic interference.”

“Ghoooost,” Dick said quietly under his breath.Tim’s left eye twitched dangerously. Jason couldn’t help smiling, it was very good he was wearing the helmet. Bruce once more ignored Dick looking to Damian.The kid straightened imperceptibly at the attention, it really was adorable, but his voice was as haughty as ever. “Blood sample is already being analyzed of course, tt.” Blood sample? Oh, that’s what Bruce had been doing on the roof, when Jason was distracted. A sick feeling rose in his stomach thinking of the blood, was Ghost even alive? He could be bleeding inside the head for all they knew.

“Hood,” Bruce asked quietly, “do you know why the Ghost reacted to you like that?”Jason stiffened. Fear grabbing cold onto his heart. There was no way he could tell them he thought it had to do with the pits. They’d think Jason was being influenced by the Ghost and bench him. He couldn’t let that happen, he needed answers. He didn’t need to fight his family.

“No damn clue,” he scoffed, hoping he sounded nonchalant and none of his panic shone through, “some weird trauma response? He’d just hit his head real good.”

Bruce looked at him dubiously, but he was clearly unwilling to risk pushing. Their truce was a tentative one after all, one they’d come to after many false starts and stops. Jason had never before been so glad for their tattered relationship.

“So to conclude,” Dick drew everyone’s attention off Jason, “the Ghost is still a mystery, we don’t know if he’s just a thief or a supervillain biding his time.”

“He’s not a supervillain.” Jason could have cursed himself, he’d just gotten their attention off him. Now he was forced to elaborate. “He’s not wearing any sort of body armor, just that hoodie.”

And he’d definitely broken some of his ribs landing on him, Jason thought with a pang of guilt.

“Not all villains wear body armor though,” Tim pointed out carefully, and now Tim was worried too, Jason had no clue what had given him away.

“The ones who engage in close combat with us usually do though,” Dick returned, and Jason could have hugged him for bailing him out again (if that had been normal, which it was NOT).

“He could just not be a very good villain?”

“Or he’s just banking on the fact that he’s very good at dodging,” Barbara interjected with annoyance before the discussion got out of hand, “or did you all just forget you’ve been chasing this guy for weeks without landing a substantial hit on him?” She could always be counted on to be the voice of reason.

Dick scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Tim looked down at his computer. Damian scoffed, trying to look unaffected but that was definitely almost a pout.

Bruce’s eyes twinkled in amusement as he stood up and was that almost a smile? How was this happening? It felt… His fingers dug into his arms. It felt like all the things Jason had convinced himself had never really been there. And there was Bruce’s hand landing on Damian’s shoulder; a silent comfort-encouragement, because Bruce was terrible with words but his touches always spoke volumes. And as the small smile bloomed on Damian’s face and he quickly looked away to hide it, Jason remembered exactly how that felt. Shit.

“Oracle, that’s all for tonight, we’re not getting anywhere without more information.”

“You got it, B, Oracle out.”

Jason spun and stalked towards his bike, before he did something, he didn’t know what exactly.

“Jay?”

Bruce’s voice stopped him in place. He glanced over his shoulder to see them all watching him. Don’t give anything away, he scolded himself.

“What is it, old man?” Jason asked trying to interject as much annoyance into his voice as he could, but it was so hard dredging up any of that when they looked at him worried like that, and his chest ached and he just sounded tired.

“It’s late,” Bruce said with a small unconscious wave of his hand as if anyone could tell the time of day from within the cave, “you could stay the night?”

After a beat he added, “Alfred would love to see you.”

Jason’s jaw clenched. Alfred would, but that’s not what Bruce was really saying, he was saying he would love to have him stay, but didn’t think Jason would be receptive to that and so he brought out the Alfred card. It was plain as day and how had Jason never seen that? Seen the longing on his dad’s face? His chest ached, he knew why. He was always so busy reading everything Bruce did as him trying to control him, every interaction tinted in green. His chest ached. Every inch of his body wanted to stay, to take a step back, see where this could lead, but he couldn’t.

He had to act normal. Normal Jason would never. Normal Jason could be back tomorrow for all he knew. He couldn’t do that to any of them, to himself.

With great difficulty he tore his gaze away from his family and walked the last steps over to his bike.

“Tell Alfred I’ll be coming over for tea on Tuesday,” he said loudly over the noise of his bike, not looking, because he didn’t want to see any of their reactions, then he tore out of there.

This was better for everyone.

Poor Jay really is having the time of it, maybe next part he'll get to actually enjoy not being angry.

next Masterpost for subscription link

[luveline]

how abt reader holding her hand over her mouth to silence her cries because she was never allowed to cry freely in her house and remus walks in on her and comforts her?

thank you for your request!! tw for implied rough childhood ♡ fem!reader | 1.1k words

Remus gets home from the shop quietly like he always does. The door is well oiled and makes no sound as it pushes open. He shucks his shoes off with a practiced ease, the reusable bag hanging from his elbow making next to no noise. Remus likes his quiet life and so do you – he's too jumpy and you've always been his little mouse, and though you have more than enough to say, you tend to say it at a moderate level. 

He adores that about you, but he'd also adore you screaming or incensed, just to be clear. 

It had been a late night trip and you've been out of sorts today. Remus had suggested you stay home and maybe head to bed if you wanted to while he walked to the corner shop two streets away for a pint of milk to make tea in the morning and something sweet for you. He hadn't disclosed that part. 

Remus puts the milk in the fridge and the bag back in the cupboard under the sink, your sweet treat in hand. 

And usually he'd say something as he walks in, feels the saccharine Dove, I missed you, on the tip of his tongue. He withholds, worried you're asleep, and then can't summon words when he realises you're far from it. 

You stand with the back of your hand pressed over your mouth and your shoulders to him, shaking with the sheer force of your sobs. Remus can't remember ever having seen you cry this hard. The only sound is your ragged breathing. Panic drips off of you in waves. 

He doesn't want to surprise you. He takes a soft step back and hits his hand against the doorway as he comes back in to give you some more warning. 

He says your name softly. 

You flinch towards him, see that it's him and turn straight back around. Your hand turns, pressed so hard over your mouth that Remus is genuinely worried you'll leave fingerprint bruises over your pretty face.

"Dove," he says, dropping the sugary treat he'd found for you on the dresser. 

You don't protest as Remus wraps his arms around your back, your shakes calming very slightly when he crosses them over your front to rub aimless lines up and down the lengths of your sides. 

He pushes his face into your neck. "Tell me what's wrong." 

You try and it hurts his heart. The very beginning of a word warped by a sob, your hand slapped straight back into place to smother it. 

"Dove, you gotta tell me." 

You shake your head.

Remus turns you in the circle of his arms for a proper hug. You cling to him, hands fierce as they bunch in his shirt, damp face pressed to his collar. Remus curls one arm behind the nape of your neck like he might protect you from the world or at the very least what's hurting you so much. 

"Please tell me what's wrong," he says, his worry a tangible nausea, a sloshing, unhappy wave. 

"I can't- can't tell you without crying." 

"So tell me while you're crying," he murmurs. 

You don't. 

Remus is very quickly realising why you might not want to cry. He knows in some part how you grew up. Wonders, though he thinks the answer would break him, how often you were told to stop crying, lest you be given a reason to.

"It's okay," he says. "It's okay. It's okay. You can cry as much as you want to." 

You make a high-pitched keen that feels like a kick to the stomach. Remus pets your back desperately. 

From then your crying is both terrifying and easier than before. You make sound, real sound, and it's devastating, but Remus is just so glad to hear it, to know you trust his word. 

"That's it, get it all out," he says. 

"Sorry," you say. It's more of a gasp than a word. 

"No, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry." 

You shake your head, damp cheek rubbing against his skin. Your sobs taper out and turn to something softer. Soon, the tears draw to an end. You breathe heavily and sniffle, your lips moving up to his neck as you force yourself further into his open arms. 

You kiss his throat. It's messy, disorientated. "Sorry, Remus."

He bites back a frown, feeling very very sad for you. "It's alright," he says, rubbing your back. "Of course it is." 

"I… It was lots of little things." 

This is a relief. Though he's surprised. "Lots of things? You wanna tell me about them?" 

"Yeah," you say, voice thick. He can hear you swallow around it uselessly. 

He pushes your face from his neck to hold it in both hands, assessing. He gives you his softest smile, and is thrilled when you smile back. 

His fingertips press into your temples lightly. "Is there something I can do now that will make you feel better?" 

"No. None of it is about you, Remus." 

"It's okay if it is. And," he strokes your cheek, "it's okay to cry about these things. You don't have to cover them up. You don't have to hide from me when you're upset." 

Your eyes close. You shudder as you lean into his touch. "I know," you say. 

Your face is sticky in his palm. 

"You wanna come and make a cup of tea with me?" he asks. 

You nod but don't move otherwise. His fondness for you is an ocean. 

Your eyes open as he drops one hand to your neck and gives you a small squeeze. "More of that later," he promises, and means it. He'll hold your face for hours if you want him to. 

But for now he wants to make sure you're all ticked off. A hot cup of tea, something to eat, a soft blanket. 

"I got you something," he says, trying to tempt you. 

You peek at what he's taken into his hand. When you realise what it is your entire face crumples and you look dangerously close to crying again as you say, "Thank you, baby." 

He sets about kissing away a sluggish tear, frantic as it curves down your cheek. "Anything for my girl, yeah?"

He wants to say, please don't cry over a snack that cost me a pound, but that directly contradicts the whole cry as much as you need to thing, and so he wipes away tears and hums to himself the whole time. "Poor girl," he says, trying for lightness as he jokes, "if you don't like it you can just say, don't have to cry about it." 

Your wet giggle is a ray of sun. He knows you'll be okay.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(For your lovely rollo event.)

Rollo, how do you feel about children? Either just in general or perhaps.. if you would ever want to be a father in the future?

Like Fire, Hellfire.

“Children?”

He handled the word as though it were a skunk—innocent and harmless for now but primed to spray at the first hint of danger. A muscle in his face ticked. It was though he wished to shift into a different emotion but hadn't yet decided which one.

Handkerchief out, Rollo sucked in a breath through his teeth. The usual disgust or disapproval was not present in full force. Today, it was tempered by hesitance as he tip-toed around the subject.

"They have the capacity to be rambunctious. Like fire, difficult to tame. I’m not certain I can match their energy," he said vaguely. “The children in the City of Flowers are free-spirited, and that tends to result in acts of mischief. Whether their pranks and games disturb public peace depends on the time and place. I'm not fond of the instances when they do."

A slight grimace crossed his features. "There was once an incident when a boy blew hard into a magically charmed handkerchief, and the noise it produced startled the baker at the cafe I was frequenting. He had just pulled out a fresh batch of croissants from the oven. The croissants ended up all over the floor... What a waste of perfectly good food. The baker, too, was quite upset, as you can imagine."

"What happened to the boy?"

"Ah, him. He attempted to abscond from the scene of the crime. In his rush to escape, he paid no attention to his surroundings and collided with me." Rollo waved a hand. "The baker's rage was upon him in an instant. The boy was shaking like a leaf in the wind—he grasped onto my robes to keep himself upright.”

Rollo drew out a sigh that ended in a small smile. “I managed to smooth things over with the baker, though I also spoke with the boy and had him apologize. One must atone for one’s crimes—that lesson was surely instilled in him that day.”

"Aw, it was nice of you to step in and speak on behalf of the little guy." You found yourself smiling as well. Even though Rollo-san always has this stern air about him… "You really have a soft spot for kids, huh?”

His frown quickly returned. "No, I wouldn't say that. I was merely holding the boy accountable for his actions. Children can so easily be led astray without proper instruction and moral guidance. Who is to say he wouldn’t be a repeat offender if he was let off the hook?”

"Someone's in denial," you said in a teasing singsong. “It’s okay to confess that you’re good at taking care of kids, you know.”

“… I am not,” he insisted. “I am most content observing the children go about their simple days. I do not wish to take a larger part in their lives beyond that.”

A terrifying thought nipped at him from the dark crevices of his mind.

I don’t have a right to.

If his heart were a house, then a window had been thrown open, letting the outside in. A hole opened in the dark, and incriminating light rushed to fill it.

A flower of pain blossomed in his chest, its thorns driving deep into his flesh. The blood that rose to the surface was both hot and cold. Burning scorn, icy remorse.

A deadly duo.

Spiraling.

I wasn't able to protect the one that mattered most of all. My magic came too late. I'm in no position to be a big brother, let alone a father, a grandfather, an uncle, a guardian of any sort…!

I’m not worthy.

Rollo gritted his teeth. His soul ablaze, his mind jumbled with emotions running high. He pushed back with teeth and nails.

It’s not my fault. I’m not to blame!! The one who cast this flame is…!

“Rollo-san?”

You were staring at him, concern seeping into your eyes. Curiosity, too, had bloomed there. It was the same sort of expression one makes at a a stray on the side of the road. Sorry for it, but uncertain about drawing near to check its condition.

He gasped—realizing he had been making a most frightening face. Rearranging his features back into some semblance of calm, he cleared his throat.

“… Suffice to say, it is impossible in this current state of affairs for any child to grow up safe and free of sin. Around every bend and corner, there is temptation of magic calling out to them. How cruel!” he lamented pityingly. “The poor things, like lambs led to the slaughter.”

You shuddered at the gruesome image—human children like lambs.

Poor things, echoed your head. Poor Rollo, echoed your heart, thinking such things.

“Until I can bring about that magic-free world into fruition, I cannot commit my efforts toward any other endeavors,” he concluded. “A world without all the pain and suffering of this one… I intend to see my goal through to the very end. That is my utmost priority.”

A fairer world for all.

For the children.

For him.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Back to School Night

Roy Kent x Teacher!Reader

Warnings: Language, gross dads hitting on their kid's teacher

1.2k words

Teach Me Tonight Masterlist

You survived two more weeks of corralling twenty-four eight-year-olds, standing outside for drop-off and pick-up duty, and accepting smiles from Roy Kent. It was a good first few weeks of school, full of getting to know a pretty great group of students and avoiding making a fool of yourself in front of the football coach who insisted on saying hello to you whenever your paths crossed.

Now you returned to your classroom at just after four, refreshed in a nicer dress than usual and a little pair of heels, makeup retouched and hair down. Back to school night- the most dreaded and exciting night of the year. In about an hour, parents would be wandering into your classroom, inspecting every inch of your classroom and asking questions that should really be addressed in a proper sit-down meeting. Some of the dads would give you the onceover, which would have some of the mums giving you icy stares. At the end of the night, you’d be desperate to take these shoes off and get a glass of wine in your hands.

At least this year you’d be seeing Roy Kent.

You flittered around the room, straightening things up and keeping an eye on that clock that was moving much faster than usual. As you pushed in the couple of chairs that the kids had forgotten to get, Leanne poked her head in.

“Ready?” Her voice had that teasing lilt she’d adopted ever since that first happy hour of the year, when she chuckled watching you sip the drink Roy Kent had sent over.

“Ready as I can be,” you huffed, blowing some hair out of your face. “You?”

She shrugged, stepping into your classroom. “Same.” Her eyes scanned the self-portraits you had hanging on one wall. “Those are great.” She pointed to one. “Nice to see Miss Phoebe’s moved on from drawing the female form.” She smirked. “Wait’ll her mum sees this.”

“God, I hope she comes.” You folded your arms across your chest. “Three weeks and I haven’t met her yet. She’s the only parent I haven’t seen.”

Leanne tilted her head at you. “What d’you mean? You haven’t seen her when she drops off Phoebe or picks her up?”

You shook your head. “It’s always Coach Kent, isn’t it? Dr. O’Sullivan must have shit hours, poor thing.”

“Interesting.” Leanne’s smile was mischievous. “I swore Phoebe’s mum dropped her off about half the time. What a coincidence that Uncle Roy has to handle things this year, when Phoebe’s got a very pretty teacher.”

“Oh stop,” you begged, rolling your eyes. “He’s probably just enjoying the way I get all flustered when he’s around. Little ego boost for him. Stupid Roy Kent and his stupid handsomeness.”

Leanne’s smile widened as she glanced at the clock, which showed almost five. “Well, better get ready to see that stupid man.”

~

“No, I am not married,” you repeated for the third time, your cheeks hurting from the fake smile you wore as another dad stood far too close. “Anyways, Lily sits right over there, feel free to take a look at the letter she wrote for you and her mum.”

Relieved to have distracted the dad whose wandering eyes made you feel like you needed a shower, you let out the quietest sigh you could manage. Other than a handful of forward fathers, the evening seemed to be going well. Most parents seemed pleased with the classroom and assured you that their children enjoyed having you as their teacher. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that you had yet to see-

“Hi.”

That gruff voice had you actually gulping.

Fuck, fuck.

Plastering on that teacher smile for the millionth time in the last half hour, you turned around to find Roy, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Beside him was a woman in scrubs and a ponytail, eyeing you with curiosity and a coolly raised eyebrow.

“You must be Phoebe’s mum,” you gushed far too cheerfully, offering her your hand. “So nice to finally meet you.”

She smiled, her eyes shifting to Roy for a flash of a moment before shaking your hand. “Yes, sorry we haven’t met yet.”

You shook your head. “No, I understand. I’m glad you could make it tonight.” You nodded towards Phoebe’s table. “Pheebs’s desk is right over there. She wrote you a letter.” Knowing you were failing at suppressing a grin, you glanced at Roy. “She wrote one for you, too, Coach.”

His smile could probably bring about world peace, you thought. It was just that damn wonderful. “Little idiot really made more work for herself, writing two letters,” he hummed, earning a glare from his sister. He offered you that little salute, the one he gave you most mornings and afternoons, and turned to follow his sister to Phoebe’s desk.

Your entire body grew warm when you heard Dr. O’Sullivan playfully hiss, “So that’s why you insist on dropping my kid off every day.”

When Roy glanced over his shoulder to look at you, you pretended to be busy looking at a child’s work. “Shut up,” he mumbled, unable to hide the red tips of his ears and his embarrassed grin. “Maybe I just like my niece, ever think of that?”

Dr. O’Sullivan’s laugh rang in your ears. “Then why are you blushing so hard, Roy-o?”

You had to turn your entire body away before either of them noticed your own blush. With your back to them, you allowed yourself a smile, vibrating with giddiness at the idea that Roy Kent came to school to see you. That you made Roy Kent blush. Even with the way you tried to suppress your little crush, it was thrilling to think that he might genuinely have one too. After all, it was one thing for nosy coworkers to tease you; it was another for Roy Kent’s sister to tease him.

Remembering where you were, you busied yourself with other parents, chatting about what a pleasure it was to teach their children and how excited you were for the new year. After avoiding the touch of a particularly well-known father, you found yourself face-to-face with Roy. He quirked an eyebrow as he watched the man scamper away.

“They really have no shame, do they?” He wrinkled his nose. “You should keep a flask in your desk. Every time a dad hits on you, you take a swig.”

You rolled your eyes. “Poor kids wouldn’t learn a thing. Their teacher’d be sloshed all the time.”

His small laugh had you blushing. “Maybe not the best idea, then.” He gazed at you for a moment, as if he was thinking. You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to say something, anything. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Finally, he stuck his hand out. “Well, have a good night.”

Praying he didn’t feel you trembling, you shook his hand. His sister’s teasing had you feeling bold enough to give a small squeeze before letting go. “Good night, Coach.”

Roy paused again, still thoughtful. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he finally murmured. “At drop-off.”

Absolutely failing to hide your silly grin, you nodded. “See you tomorrow.” You quickly said goodbye to Dr. O’Sullivan, who’d wandered over while you drooled over her famous brother. Her smile was far too amused and had you blushing even harder than you already were.

On their way out the door, Roy couldn’t help but look back and offer one last little wave, that stupidly perfect smile playing on his lips.

Taglist: @infinetlyforgotten @gothicwidowsworld @taytaylala12 @amieinghigh @klaine-92 @misshall14 @rosesheerio @goose-101 @gee72sstuff @alainabooks143 @lwritesstuff @hayden-maximoff @optimisticsandwichgladiator @veryprairieberry @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The wine coats your empty stomach sourly. You mourn the forgotten protein bars in your glove compartment. You suppose ten minutes can’t hurt. You prefer the brief venture to the headache nipping at the base of your skull.

You take the room keys with you and slip into the hallway. Without that big lug to distract you, you can’t help but admire the decor. It isn’t entirely outdated. Your heels click along and you turn at the top of the stairs, looking down on the airy lobby.

You descend, a hand on the railing, and recall the directions issued by the front desk agent. You glance over as she smiles and flutters her fingertips at you. You spin and march past the lion statues, the savoury aroma of food drawing you in.

It isn’t what you expect. At the most, you thought it would be some steaming buffet where you could scoop up what you want and retreat to your bedroom. Instead, there’s a long table set with plates, glasses, and the full breadth of cutlery. There’s no one else there.

There’s a sign in delicate calligraphy; Take a seat. You peer around and strut along the table, claiming a tall-backed chair from the bunch. Before you, there’s a printed menu. Beside each course is listed a time. You check your golden watch; you’re early.

You instinctively reach for your phone before retracting your hand. It’s next to useless here where the reception wavers in and out. Even on the hotel’s network, you can’t get a proper signal.

“Excuse me, miss,” a dulcet drawl interrupts your inner griping, “would you like some wine?”

You look at the man, buoyant in a white jacket and gloves; like a pig in a suit. You look at the bottle in his hands. It isn’t inexpensive. And it’s red. 

“Thank you,” you tap the base of the glass by your plate. He pours and takes a step back, “I’m Gavin, if you need anything else. Dinner’s almost ready.”

You nod and stare at him until he fidgets. He walks away and you reach for the glass. You taste the nearly black wine and give it a swirl. You admire the dregs sticking to the crystal. 

“Ah,” a birdlike tweet carries across the room and you look over at the new arrival. A woman in beige and pearls. Her golden hair is silver at the roots and her lips are painted coral, “you must be the guest.”

She claims the seat next to you, of the dozens lined on either side. You sit up stiffly and put the glass down before you succumb to the urge to empty it. She’s unexpectedly elegant as she crosses one leg over the other. She signals in the air and Gavin appears to fill her glass in kind.

“Welcome to Hammer Ford,” she trills, “how are you like it, dear?”

You look her up and down. She has an aristocratic air to her. You exhale and turn your head straight.

“Passing through,” you answer.

“Yes, my son mentioned you had some car troubles,” she tuts, “not to worry, Vol is a saviour.”

You try not to cringe and plant your elbow on the armrest. Your stomach rumbles as if to drown out your doubts. You need to eat. You’ll have the appetizer and retreat.

“Frigga,” she offers her name and a lithe hand, “I believe my son, Thor, helped you with your bags.”

You face her and reticently pronounce your name, giving a quick squeeze of her hand. She seems to mean well. You can assume these backwoods people have a rather keen sense of etiquette.

“He didn’t lie, you’re very pretty. I adore that necklace,” she praises and touches your sleeve, “is this Chanel?”

“Givenchy,” you correct her.

“Oh yes, I have a few handbags,” she chimes.

You squint at her. She does share the same fair colouring with that brute but you fail to see any further similarity.

“That was your son?”

“Ah, the eldest, yes,” she grins, “my other one may be slinking around. He takes after his father.”

You nod and look at your empty plate. Your stomach gives an unattractive grumble and you rub it lightly. 

“Oh my, you must be starving, you’ve had a long day I’m sure,” she gestures again, “why wait? I’m sure the rest will be late.”

Gavin rushes out and you flinch. There’s something eerie about it all. So refined and precise. In a village like this. As if the palatial hotel was plucked out of a different time and place.

“The crab is fresh,” Frigga offers as she glances down at the menu, “our chef makes fabulous cakes.”

You nod as if you care. You will eat anything at this point. Were it an option, you’d gladly take a Big Mac to go. You’d prefer the greasy mess if it promised privacy.

“Mother,” the booming voice jars you and you bite down on your cheek.

Thor strolls in as your lips seal in a tight line. Is there anything this man does that isn’t entirely irritating? He nears the table across from you and drags out the chair, the feet scraping loudly.

“I see you’ve met our guest,” he proclaims as he drops unceremoniously into the seat, the frame creaking dangerously beneath his weight, “ma’am, I must say, this light looks well on you.”

You merely stare at him. He isn’t as charming as he thinks. You’re certain the country girls, like the one behind the desk, find him rather endearing but you can hardly bear the sight of him. 

“She is so lovely,” Frigga chirps, “and just as gorgeous as you mentioned.”

You grab the glass of wine. They are so stupid. What are they expecting, you to gobble up their redundant compliments eagerly? You put yourself together in a very particular way and you know it. You don’t need their bumpkin reassurance.

“Ma’am,” Thor tilts his head coyly, “how do you like your suite?”

“It is adequate,” you answer dully.

He laughs, thoroughly amused. 

“Where did you put her? Not in Isaz, I hope?”

“Berkano,” Thor corrects.

“Oh, yes, lovely,” Frigga says, “I’m certain you’ll love it, darling.”

You hum and empty the glass. It swishes in your stomach with the first you had up in the room. If you don’t eat soon, you might just vomit from their boorish company.

[demonsandpieohmy]

Crowley has a pretty new dress. And Aziraphale wants to ruin it.

Rating E, 1.7k words

To Shreds

This was a collaboration with the amazing @searchingforakeythatdoesntexist (ElenthyaOlyenths on reddit) for the @goodomensafterdark smut war. I was inspired to write this by one of Elenthya’s drawings, and then she made some gorgeous new pieces for the story.

Thank you to my lovely beta reader @watsonsstressball

————

“What’s the, erm, occasion?” Aziraphale asked, trying to keep his voice even, while knowing he was utterly failing.

“Small temptation outing,” Crowley said. He leaned over the table to pour out the wine, stretching forward and giving Aziraphale a view of how the lace pulled over the fine muscles of his shoulders. “I showed up like this to the Royal Ascot, quite a shock for all those prim and proper socialites. By the time I left there were all kinds of…” he glanced sideways at Aziraphale, “...impure thoughts running rampant.”

Aziraphale had no doubt of that. Crowley looked like sin incarnate. But then a horrible feeling of possessiveness twisted in his gut. A feeling that had no business being there.

“And did you… take an active role in that inspiration?” he asked.

“Nah.” Crowley leaned back against the couch. He toed off his heels and crossed one long leg towards Aziraphale, the slit in the fabric falling open around it. “Didn’t want to stick around too long. I was looking forward to seeing you.”

Aziraphale grabbed his wine and took a big gulp. Crowley couldn’t possibly be insinuating what he thought he was. This wasn’t part of their usual dance. But then again, Crowley wasn’t usually looking like sex on a stick.

(That was a lie. Crowley could be wearing a potato sack and still be the most delicious thing Aziraphale had ever seen.)

“I suppose you depend on me to dig up the best vintages,” Aziraphale said. “Not exactly room for a wine cellar here.” He gestured around the flat.

“That’s not what I meant,” Crowley said lowly. He leaned forward, inches from Aziraphale’s face. “Do you like the dress?”

The thin rubber band of Aziraphale’s restraint snapped, and he surged forward to capture Crowley’s lips in a desperate kiss. He buried his hands into the soft russet hair that he desperately wanted to mess up.

“You little minx,” he panted against Crowley’s mouth. “You know I like it.”