#in the big picture. except maybe it's slightly worse next time

[v-iv-rusty]

I think. there's a point with mental health where 'you'll get through this' starts to feel more horrifying than comforting

[amostimprobabledream]

Colour in my dark side (Homelander x Goth!Reader)

Blame @blindmagdalena for this, ages ago we were discussing Homelander becoming attracted to a goth!Reader who is indifferent to him and this is what spawned. Enjoy!

It’s hellish hot.

The Con is swarming with people, and your all-black outfit isn’t helping at all. This is not your idea of a good time – it’s loud, bright, every fifth person stinks of B.O, and there’s always some kid shrieking somewhere and you’re hungry. Posters and clips of the Seven are playing everywhere – you’re sure if you did a three-hundred sixty degree spin, you’d be able to see a whole movie play out across the whole venue. Honestly, it’s too much. You’ve never really cared all that much about Supes, to be honest. Sure, saving people’s lives is admirable and they deserved every bit of credit and however much money one paid Supes for doing that. That all made sense.

But all this? The tacky clothing lines and toys and comics? The endless ad campaigns and shitty movies and TV shows? It was all just so much. You had no idea how any sane person could bear it, but then, you were pretty biased in that respect. And every one of the Seven except maybe Black Noir were so not your aesthetic – the cheesy grins and spangly suits made your eyes hurt.

So why are you here?

Because your friend Jen practically begged you to come with her. She’d had tickets for SupeCon for months. Apparently, her sister was originally going to come with her, but somewhere along the way, plans changed, things got confused and she couldn’t make it. Jen promised she didn’t expect you to pay for her sister’s ticket and that she’d treat you to lunch, just as long as she didn’t have to go alone. You’d dragged her to some weird events in your time, so you agreed, if slightly reluctantly.

But now you’re here, it’s exactly as bad as you thought it was going to be. And it’s about to get worse.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the Seven are finally here!” Jen squeals and bounces up and down next to you, while you stand there watching her in befuddlement. No doubt you make an odd pair to anybody watching – she fits right in and you look like a crow amongst a flock of sparrows.

“I mean, yeah, they are scheduled to be.” You reply, in the most deadpan voice you can muster. Jen usually catches onto your sarcasm very quickly, you’ve perfected the art of saying it subtly, but today she’s too excited and it goes right over your head.

The Seven enter with screams of applause that makes you wince, wanting to clap your hands over your ears. Homelander is in the lead, of course, waving to the crowd and even giving a cheesy thumbs-up. Queen Maeve, A-Train, Black Noir and Starlight follow him, not as bombastic but each of them seem to have their fair share of fans too. You don’t know where The Deep is and it looks like they haven’t gotten around to replacing Translucent yet.

Jen is busy snapping pictures of them as they walk to their booths. Apparently there’s going to be a short Q&A later about whatever movie it is they’re supposed to be plugging at the moment. Apparently this one is a big deal because it’s the first one with Starlight in it, but Jen promised she wouldn’t make you stay for that, thank god.

“God, most people don’t look as good when you see them in person, but they’re all so good-looking!” Jen gushes, bouncing on her heels.

“I guess.” You offer neutrally, trying not to sound too critical because she’s here to have fun.

They look a little uncomfortable to you. Well, it’s hard to get any vibes from Black Noir, to be honest, but Maeve has a just-swallowed-a-lemon face and Starlight’s smile has a nervous edge to it. You read somewhere she used to be in beauty pageants as a kid and it shows when she’s in front of a crowd. A-Train and Homelander seem to be soaking in the attention, though, which doesn’t surprise you at all.

“Omg, hey, look this way!” Jen says, suddenly turning her phone the other way and leaning her head towards yours. “Picture!”

“Ugh, do we have to?” you ask, but you dutifully pose anyway, but you don’t smile. The flash stings your eyes and you blink, hard.

You blink several times, eyes watering a bit, but you manage to prevent them from leaking, which is good because you don’t want to fuck up your eyeliner. Now Jen is staring at the rapidly-forming queue, chewing her lip as she deliberates and you fish your phone out of your pocket and start scrolling through it, absent-mindedly.

“Fuck it, I’m going in.” she says, turning to you hopefully. “You wanna come? I know you don’t really like the Seven, but you could at least meet Black Noir yourself?”

"Yeah, I don't think so." you reply without looking up from your phone. "Standing in line for hours just so some Vought barbie doll can bare their teeth at me and give me an overpriced piece of junk with their name scrawled on it is not my idea of a good time."

What the fuck?

Okay, maybe that was a bit mean - the heat and hunger is making you snippy, but fortunately for you Jen doesn't mind when you're grouchy so she simply laughs at you.

"Say what you want, Morticia, but I'm going to catch 'em all!" she grins at you. "I can't wait to talk to Starlight, she's the only one of the Seven I don't have any hand-signed merch of yet!"

You glance over at where the girl in question is sitting. Homelander gets the end table, obviously, since they're saving the best for last and if there's an emergency, he needs to be able to get out quickly (he's been known to crash through roofs before, apparently, so he's right next to the emergency exit door), but Starlight's on the table next to his. Between all the other members of the Seven there's something fragile-looking about her, with her dainty white costume and the hair in soft blonde waves. You know that's not true; she has to be tough to have been let into the Seven at all.

But...for some reason you find yourself feeling sorry for her.

"She looks so young." is what you end up saying.

“Yeah, I guess? I just wish she’d ditch that hairband; I had one just like it in middle school,” Jen says, shrugging. “Still love her, though! I’m gonna go get in line now!”

You nod, not really paying attention anymore and glance around, wondering if you should bother buying a hotdog or something – can you last another couple of hours before Jen gets you lunch?

“Okay, I’m getting a slushie. Do you want one?”

She smiles and shakes her head, hitching the strap of her bag further up her shoulder.

“Nah, it’ll have melted by the time I’m finished getting autographs. Go on and listen to The Cure or something.”

“Fuck you,” you reply with a smirk and Jen laughs and trots off towards the back of the line, her hair swishing. You’re glad she drove here because she’s going to struggle walking anywhere with all the shit she’s buying.

The line is so long it’s snaking around the room, but the Seven are used to events like this so hopefully she should only be an hour or so. You sigh and dodge a family that nearly steamroll right over you, a mother and father arguing loudly while their kids whine and shriek behind them, the youngest one squeezing an A-Train toy that is already missing an eye. You make a disgusted face as you dodge them – you don’t want their gross sticky hands getting on your clothes.

After buying yourself a slushie that’s so big it’s slightly too large for you to hold one-handed, you dodge endless streams of people until you get to a wall and lean against it. You can’t see any chairs anywhere, which is a shame because your feet are really starting to hurt.

“Fuckin’ hell,” you mutter to yourself, stabbing your straw through the slushie and taking a long, refreshing gulp. A soft sigh leaves you; “Ah.”

At least it’s quieter over here. While you nurse your drink and distantly wish you’d brought a flask so you could put some alcohol in this (you feel like alcohol would make time go by quicker), you get this prickling feeling and glance up, wondering if Jen decided she was too tired to wait.

But no. It’s not her. Instead, Homelander is staring straight at you. At first you don’t register that he is, merely that he happened to glance up in your direction, but after a couple of seconds of his unwavering gaze, it occurs to you that he might actually be looking at you. You glance over your shoulder just in case and relax – there’s an enormous poster blown up to the size of a billboard on the wall a foot or so above your head. He must be staring at that.

Right?

A moment later some guy steps in front of him to get his comic book signed and you can’t see Homelander anymore. Realising you’re nearly finished with your drink, you jolt a bit in surprise – did you drink that really fast or did you just lose track of time for a bit?

Something else occurs to you as you slip away from your quiet spot by the wall and toss your drink.

You really, really want to smoke.

That sounds like a great idea, actually. It’ll get you out of this hellhole for a bit, give you a fix you need and there might be a wall or something to perch on and rest your aching feet. True, you’ll be out in the blazing hot sunshine in all black, but sacrifices must be made.

You send a quick text to Jen and disappear out of there – the venue is strictly no smoking but you’re pretty sure if you nip around the back, there won’t be a problem. You can guarantee some of the stall owners find somewhere to get a nicotine fix, running a stand in a crowded, noisy hellhole like this for nine hours straight.

What you don’t notice is eyes tracking you across the room, and you’ve already rounded the corner of the venue when Homelander stands up and claps his hands, announcing the Seven are taking a quick break and they’ll be right back to finish off the signing, folks!

Cheers and groans swell up in equal measure, but before anybody has any time to protest (though none of the Seven seem to mind this announcement), he’s already vanished through the emergency exit.

~

Blissfully, you stretch your legs out as you have another suck on your vape. Your instincts were right on the money – you didn’t find a handy wall, but there’s a staff-only door with a couple of stairs that you’ve sat down on. If anybody comes outside, it’ll probably be people working for SupeCon and god knows they probably need a cigarette break more than you do.

Anyway, it’s not like there are any signs back here that say “No Smoking”. An implication is not a concrete rule.

"Smoking's bad for your health, you know."

You jolt and look around, even though you already know who that voice belongs to.

They say famous people always look smaller up close, but in Homelander's case it's the exact opposite. He looks bigger if anything, perhaps it's the way his cape sways importantly behind him or the eagle epaulettes give his silhouette a severe, angular look, but while a few minutes ago you were alone, now it's like you're in a crowded room all over again. You lower your vape.

What the hell is he doing back here? Somehow you don’t think Homelander wanted to get away for a quick nicotine fix before he returns to his adoring public. You stand up, not wanting to be stuck crouching on the steps while he looms over you.

"So." Homelander says, popping his lips. "Not to sound too forward, but I couldn't help but notice you earlier. You, ah, stick out a bit in there, even brooding over there by the wall."

"They do say that, yeah." you deadpan, rubbing your lips together where there's still a lingering taste of your flavoured smoke.

He's looking at you strangely - though Homelander is smiling, there's something flat about it, like it's just something he does while on standby. There's no genuine feeling behind it at all - it doesn't match the look in his eyes, and somehow despite the warm sunshine bearing down on you, suddenly you feel a little chilly. Perhaps he doesn’t appreciate jokes.

His eyes pointedly run down your outfit, and you glance down reflexively too - you're not the only person wearing black in there, but most of the people who are are the ones dripping in Black Noir merch. You're the only person you've seen who isn't wearing any colour or even a hint of Supe gear. Plus you were standing directly in Homelander's line of vision, even if you figured the hundreds of people inbetween you and him would be more than sufficient to hide you. And he'd been so busy dramatically signing every Homelander-related item shoved under his nose that the notion he'd bother noticing a single person in such a big crowd was honestly baffling to you.

Is he coming onto me?

Yeah, right. Homelander, the most baseball games and apple pie person in existence, the All-American boy himself, hitting on a random goth chick?

"Oh?" you reply, wondering where he was going with this.

He tilts his head, looking down at you and you're reminded of a bird of prey staring down a mouse. It makes you straighten your back - you're free to do what you want, and if you don't want to drink the Vought Kool-Aid everybody else here seems to have, what difference does it make to him? It's almost like he's offended there isn't one person here desperate to bask in his presence. It's not as if you've ever disliked Homelander (though he isn't helping his case presently), it's just none of this is you.

"Not a fan of Supes?" he asks lightly, but there's a mocking note in his voice that surprises you. Normally he sounds as rehearsed as those action figures of his. "Does saving lives bore you? Hm? Is that why you came here, to show us all how different and unique you are? Tickets aren't cheap - seems a lot of money for a normal person to spend on not caring."

"My friend asked me to come." you reply, a little defensively, which is ridiculous. Why should you feel the need to explain yourself to Homelander? It's none of his fucking business. "Look, it’s not that I didn’t get in line because I don’t think saving lives matters or anything, I just-“

“You just don’t want to talk to…what was it? Oh, right, a ‘Vought Barbie-doll bearing their teeth at you’?” Homelander says, and shame prickles your skin to have your own words thrown back at you. He steps a little closer and you can smell him – some fancy cologne that probably costs more than your entire outfit put together, plus a sort of woodsy smell like pine trees. You can’t even detect a hint of sweat – apparently sweating is below such beings.

You make a sound, a sort of scoff of disbelief. This can’t really be happening, can it?

“Look, I’m not…I never said I don’t think what you actually do is important. But this?” you wave a hand in the general direction of the Con. “All the pomp and circumstance? Yeah, not my scene.”

“Too bright for your dark tastes, huh?” Homelander says, and is it you or is his voice pitched a little lower than before? It sounds rougher for sure, like stone scraping against stone.

You press your lips together, because can’t think of anything to say to that. It’s pretty obvious he’s not going to be mollified and you’re not apologising to him – if he can’t let go of a little comment made by a total stranger, that’s his burden to bear. You just want to go home. So, you stuff your vape back into your pocket and turn to leave, blowing tutti-frutti flavoured smoke out of the corner of your mouth. You’re tired and hungry and you just want to get out of here and go to lunch.

Unfortunately for you, Homelander seems to have other ideas.

His hand suddenly shoots out and grabs your wrist, tugging your arm out straight, making you stumble forwards – he damn near yanks you right off your feet. He does it so fast you don't have time to react at first, then your eyes narrow in bewilderment.

"Hey-!" you protest, and try to squirm free, but his fingers lock around your wrist. It's like trying to pull your arm out of a steel door and the most insulting thing of all is that Homelander isn't really trying - it's like somebody effortlessly pinching the neck of a kitten to make them go limp. He looks calmer now that he’s caught you off guard, shooting you an amused little smirk. You go still.

"Looks like you're a fan of ink," Homelander says, his eyes tracing up and down the tattoos on your body. Distantly you remember that he has X-ray vision and heat surges to your cheeks - is he-?

But his next words make you go still.

"Since you didn’t have anything for me to sign…I suppose I can make do.”

Easily holding you still just by one arm, he tugs out a Sharpie that was apparently nestling against his hip, held there by his belt, and whips it out, tugging the cap off with his teeth. You catch a glimpse of the side of the pen - it's permanent ink.

"What the fuck-?!"

He ignores your protests, no doubt your squirms are so ineffectual to him you might as well be trying to break down a door with a feather, and he begins writing on you. He's careful not to accidentally tear your fragile skin with the force of the pen, but a shiver goes shooting down your arm as the chilly tip of the pen glides across your forearm, breaking out in goosebumps. You feel like you’re watching this happen from far away, somehow, disengaged from the situation now that you know you can’t run away.

It doesn't take long, only a few seconds, but for you those moments stretch on, elastic as a rubber band being pulled tight before someone releases it. When he's finished, he lets go and you jerk your arm back like it's been burned.

Homelander's autograph is still wet with ink, but already you can see the darker spots being absorbed into your skin - it takes up the entirety of your forearm, written in huge, looping scrawl. You can only stare at it in disbelief - how long is this going to take to wash off? Probably weeks, even if you do scrub it every day with soap or a body scrub or whatever the fuck else you might have to use to get rid of it. You look back up at Homelander, who has already put the pen away. He's grinning at you broadly now, but his fangs are bared and you want to step back from him. You only don't because there's a wall right behind you and you have the perverse thought that looking like you want to run away might excite him.

"You know, I always thought tattoos looked a little…trashy." Homelander confides with a smirk, and his eyes travel up and down the length of your body in a way that would be indecent even without knowing he can see straight through your clothes if he so pleases. "Especially on pretty girls like you, even if you hide it under all that. But I guess it's all about finding ones that suit you best, isn't it? Maybe you can get that made into a real one."

Your jaw drops at the absolute fucking gall. If it were anyone else you probably would have thrown hands with him right now, because who the fuck does he think he is?

But you already know that. He's The Homelander. The best-case scenario is you'd break your hand on him. Worst case?

You don't want to think about what the worst-case scenario might be. You might like dark things, but this is different.

“Well?” Homelander nudges and you continue to stare at him, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

The air seems to shiver with tension and you nervously lick your lips, uncaring that you’re still wearing lipstick. You’re stalling and he knows it.

“Homelander!”

Before you can even begin to formulate some kind of reply that fulfills the requirements without actually having to say the words, a woman in an absolutely hideous pantsuit comes running up to him and he rolls his eyes, turning to her.

“For fuck’s sake, Ashley, what is it now?” he says, and if he hadn’t just forcefully scribbled all over your skin and demanded you thank him for it ten seconds ago.

You recognise an opportunity when you see one and take that moment to beat it, trying not to run, but in the end you can’t help it, holding your arm to your body like you’ve broken it. You know Homelander is watching you – you can feel his eyes on your back, but you don’t turn around.

As you hurry back entrance hall, you spot Jen, who is now laden down with bags of stuff.

“There you are!” she says. “God, my legs are aching from standing around, but I’m all done! I’m thinking Applebee’s…are you okay? You look a bit clammy.”

“Yeah,” you say, dropping your arm and pressing it to your side. The signature is big, but it’s on the inside of your arm. If you take care to keep it hidden under a booth or against your side, hopefully Jen won’t see it. You don’t feel like explaining how you got it. “Just hungry.”

“Same here. Come on, I think I parked in Bay C…”

You follow Jen out, silently sending up a thanks to whoever might be listening that she’s happy to leave now, that she doesn’t think to ask you any further questions. She’s in her little Supe bubble and you’re not going to pop it. Especially not if you know Homelander can hear you.

Especially if you know he might still be watching you.

~

“Fuckin’ assholes.”

That was Homelander’s assessment of the day. Oh, he’d smiled for pictures, he’d signed the mass-produced bullshit people pushed at him and he’d answered questions about a silly movie he barely remembered making. Such trivialities that Vought deemed worthy of his time. But anything for the fans, right?

He popped the top off a carton of milk he had awaiting him in his apartment, not even bothering with a glass as he chugged the stuff down, cool and sweet and delicious against his parched throat. As he drank, the one spot of entertainment of the day floated to the surface of his mind.

Namely, the face of that little goth girl when he’d grabbed her arm, the way she immediately stilled when he started writing his name on her skin. For all the weary sighing and under-her-breath snark, there would be nothing she could do about his name branded across her skin like that. It would fade in time, of course, but he got a distinct fission of satisfaction knowing she’d be thinking of him, whether she wanted to or not, every time she looked down at it.

Even if she covered it with black clothes, they’d both know it was there. Like a little secret.

Lazily, almost absently, he started undoing the front of his suit, one-handed, fishing out his already hardening cock. Setting the milk aside, he braced himself against the wall as he started to jerk it in some frantic pumps of his hand, overcome with the memory of her, the whiff of her Vape and the hitching of breath when he touched her. Homelander moaned throatily and threw his head back, imagining how it might feel to put his name on the girl permanently, to ink himself on someone who thought they were o very removed from the world he inhabited – no, not inhabited – ruled. She was just as much something to amuse him as everyone else.

As few more frantic jerks made him come, a hot, pleasing flush after a long, boring day of pageantry and ennui.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, with a smile, lashes casting shadows across his cheeks with his eyes closed in bliss.

Perhaps there was something to be said about tattoos after all.

~

The water hisses as you scrub and scrub and scrub, foamy white bubbles dribbling down your arm and splashing back into the sink.

Nothing. The Homelander signature is still there, gleaming starkly in the dim lighting of your bathroom. You’ve been working away at it for hours now, but whatever pen he used is apparently an excellent quality one. You're just thankful Jen was too hyper from meeting her idols to notice you were suddenly doing everything one-handed.

But an idea comes to you as you stare resentfully at your reflection, gingerly patting your arm (which is sore now from hours of scrubbing and soaking it) – if you can’t get it off you and you’ll have to live with it for a couple of weeks, the best thing to do seems obvious.

Namely, improve it.

So you hurry into your room and start fishing through your desk drawers until you find it – another Sharpie, one you have ironically brought to gigs with you before for bands to sign if you can get them alone for a minute. But it will serve another purpose tonight.

Tugging the cap off with your teeth, you lie your arm flat on your desk and hover the pen over Homelander’s name.

Very carefully you make your adjustment, grinning around the cap as you do.

A second later and it’s done. The word Homelander is still there – except that the ‘m’ is blocked out with a black star, so now it actually reads “Ho★elander.”

“How’s that one for trashy, asshole?” you mutter to yourself, a surge of petty glee rising up in you like sap oozing forth from a tree, savagely pleased with your handiwork.

As you flop onto your bed, a line pops into your head, and despite what a long, bizarre day it’s been, you laugh and say out loud;

“I went to SupeCon, and all I got was this lousy autograph.”

[logictoinsanity]

Recently read The Silence by Tim Lebbon and it was great, found out there was a movie and watched it and now I'm subjecting the Internet void to

My Thoughts on The Silence (2019) (6.5/10):

-(TLDR: I enjoyed it, but if I hadn't read the book it'd be much less interesting

TLDR of the move: if youve seen a quiet place, very similar creature, blind and hunts via hearing, reminiscent of like, piranhas combined with bats. parents, young son, deaf daughter and moms mom are trying to survive)

- Casting is all good except for Huw they fucked up (actor did a good job, just don't think he has the right vibe and its not /just/ because he's bald)

- Jude and Ally are great, Otis is a Rottweiler and I can't remember if that's book accurate (definitely not how I pictured him, I pictured a mutt that vaguely resembles a dark grey Irish wolfhound, but not as ridiculously large). but he's so so cute (I hid during The Scene™ so I have no clue how they handled it, but maybe next time I can just think about the dog actor having a really fun time)

- Not a fan of the change of setting, I understand that the problem had to move faster than the book, but they could've still kept the UK and Moldova, I feel like this would be more important to me if I was British tho tbh, im sure theres aspects of the characters in the book that got messed up when they turned american that i didnt notice. Probably cheaper to film in the USA tho.

- Obviously lacks all of the incredible build up and suspense of the entire first quarter of the book, with Ally seeing the cave on TV and slowly watching it become a bigger and bigger thing, which is one of my favorite things about the book

- Note from ~25 minutes in- better than a quiet place because it starts from the beginning, although I've heard the quiet place 2 provides a lot more context, maybe it's a ouija situation

- FUCKING HATE THAT THEY CHANGED 'HE WANTS ALLY FOR HER SIGN LANGUAGE AND SEES HER AS A FUCKED UP SAVIOR' INTO 'THE GIRL IS FERTILE' THATS SO FUCKING STUPID WHY WOULD THEY VALUE FERTILITY AT ALL WHEN BABIES ARE IMPOSSIBLE TO HUSH AS A PRE ESTABLISHED FACT THATS JUST GROSS PERVERSION FOR THE SAKE OF SHOCK VALUE INSTEAD OF WHAT ACTUALLY MAKES SENSE FOR THE PLOT

- They also fucked up the order of events with the hushed attacking the house, which fucks up the relevance of the grandmas sacrifice, since they just grabbed Ally again right after

- They also didn't include the smile from grandma to Ally which would've been so so easy to include and imo was a good moment.

- I liked Jude stabbing the guy, can't remember if that was in the book. also didn't like that it was three kidnappers instead of one really big guy who ignored like, a knife wound and being punched repeatedly

- Overall very similar to how I feel about THG movie, although this movie is worse than THG generally, so the concept is amplified. fun to watch because I know the deeper parts, decent basic genre movie, but doesn't have nearly the substance, meaning, or craftsmanship as the book.

- Really wish the beginning had slightly more time to show the doubt the world had when the vesp infestation first started. I think like two or three weeks passed between the Moldova cave incident and the vesps crossing the British channel in the book. There also wasn't time to show all the ways people tried to fight back, the military burning cities while blasting off fireworks, releasing toxic gases, etc. But I think specifically the doubt that was surrounding the vesp infestation in its early stages is a very important part of what makes the book so effective, it shows how people will ignore the things they cant handle, the cognitive dissonance we all have about whats happening in far away countries, it could never happen to us etc

- Really wish Glenn got more screen time and character development, especially in relation to the doubt, but I understand why he didn't. He's the madge of this film (not as bad tho, they did their best with him and the time they had I think)

- Feel pretty much the same about the ending, I get they needed a satisfying conclusion since they knew the odds of a sequel were slim, and the original ending would've been to frustrating for a more general audience.

- Personally though, I would've written it closer to the original, but they make it to the house in Scotland, and there's vague hints about the refuge (and maybe a more solid conclusion on rob somehow) so its like, there's a little open endedness and if they really wanted to do a sequel they could, but its still satisfying and more follows the original storyline. Especially since they totally cut out the plot line of huw and his parents weird relationship and his weird feelings about Scotland.

- Still enjoyed it more than quiet place, though tbf I don't remember that movie very well, I was high as fuck during both movies, and I haven't seen the sequel

- Huws brother and sister, Allys best friend and the lake house woman's machete are all absent, along with the prime Minister announcements (although I guess itd be the president) which I really enjoyed since the governments response is a key component to how a society reacts to catastrophy, which I think is a solid bit of the point of the book

- Basically I want a five hour long extended version that's just a little more book accurate and has slightly better pacing and casting. Just like The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson, and every other book to movie adaptation I've ever seen

[elliepassmore]

The Blood Years review

4.5 stars/5 stars Recommended if you like: historical fiction, WWII, non-German/Britain/US WWII, Jewish characters, younger teen MC Big thanks to Netgalley, Balzar + Bray, and the author for an ARC in exchange for an honest review! TW: Holocaust, rape I always enjoy reading historical fiction books set outside the traditional countries we see historical fiction set in (i.e., USA, Britain, France, Germany...maybe Russia, but not many of those). This book is set in Romania and starts slightly before their occupation and ends almost immediately after liberation ('liberation'). It was interesting to get a different view of that era of history, especially since Romania had to deal with both Soviet and German occupation. It was interesting to read about the recent history of Romania leading up to WWII since it isn't really a country I know too much about. The parts about the Soviet and German occupation were also interesting, but at least I know what to expect from that (and I also actually read a nonfiction book about Romania in WWII in 2022 or '21). Both occupations are horrifying in their own ways and have slightly different threats and rules. The juxtaposition between the two worked well to highlight both the similarities and the differences between the Soviets and Germans. Frederieke, Rieke, starts the story around age 12/13 (except for the prologue, where she's 6), when things are tense in Europe but still relatively calm in Romania. At the time, her life largely revolves around school, ballet, her sister, and Opa. Over the course of the story Rieke has multiple points where the world shifts under her feet, both in small ways, like her father leaving, and in big ways, like occupation. Each time her world shifts, Rieke must reorient and make a decision about how she is going to move forward. This next part is slightly spoilery, but I'm not putting a spoiler warning since it relates to one of the TWs: There is a part toward the end where Rieke is raped by an older man, though the scene isn't particularly graphic, and it's mentioned as happening several more times before Rieke is hospitalized for an unrelated illness. It is also heavily implied that Astra was raped during Soviet occupation. Opa, Rieke and Astra's grandfather, has already lived through one world war and isn't looking forward to a second one. He tries to protect the girls and his family as long as he can, but the hate of others isn't so easy to hide, and their hardships only become worse when the Germans take over the country. Despite everything going on, Opa continues to put his family first and continues to strive to uphold the morals he holds close. Astra is a hard character to fully like. At the beginning of the book, she's relatively okay, but the more Rieke remembers her younger childhood and the more we see Astra falling in love, it's clear she's not a very nice person to her sister. Since Rieke is the narrating character, that makes it kind of hard to like Astra even if Rieke loves her older sister dearly. That being said, Astra becomes much better toward the middle/later parts of the book, though she still has her moments (and I'm not super thrilled that she allowed what was going on with Rieke toward the end). I will say though, by the end of the book it's very, very clear that Astra loves Rieke dearly, even if it isn't always expressed. Marcel does fit with Astra, though he's largely flighty only with her. Rieke doesn't like him at first, and so I didn't like him at first either, but he really does come through for the family he becomes a part of. I won't comment on his romantic flightiness, but he definitely isn't a bad person. I think the author did a good job capturing the wider picture of what was going on in Romania while also keeping the focus on Rieke and her family. She also does a good job of shifting between the two, with Rieke being able to note the larger changes occurring around her by noticing the ones that impact her and the daily lives of those around her. The historical part of the book was done very, very well in my opinion. Overall, this was a good book. Obviously I am not a fan of the second TW, and on the one hand I'm glad it was kind of brushed over but on the other hand I do feel like more attention should've been called to what was happening. Unrelated to that, I liked that Astra, Rieke, and their friends were dancers. There really aren't enough books where people are just casually ballet dancers.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

You don’t want to miss dessert - Rio (Good Girls)

Ok so let’s be honest, last night’s episode was just pure teasing, the hands, the smirks, the bedroom scene. God have mercy I’m about to bust 😂 The thought of Rio making you cum into his hands in his own family home while everyone is waiting outside is just 👅 Enjoy this one 😏

Warning : Smut

Word Count : 1.6k (Not proofread)

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Being in business with Rio was definitely a challenge for you. You’ve had your arguments over the past 2 years, them not always ending well. You had wanted out after 8 months, but he wouldn’t let you do that. He had threatened you for you to come back to work with him. The problem with your relationship, was that both of you always wanted to be right and have the upper hand. He loved that you were daring and confident, but he often needed to remind you who was boss.

You could say your relationship was complicated. It was only business related, even though the both of you had slept together a couple of times before, not making it a recuring thing. Three times, you had slept together three times since you had met him, each time better than the other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t drawn and attracted to Rio. Hell, even his name made you feel puddy. He wasn’t like anyone you’d ever hooked up with before. Maybe it was the fact that you never really met someone like him, which is normal cause Rio is unique.

People wouldn’t necessary imagine the both of you working and being together, but that’s why it made perfect sense. Neither your entourage nor the FBI would suspect you to be in business with a guy like him. By the look of it, you seem to live in two different worlds, but you were very much alike. You needed to be in control, just like him and you had a certain way to plan and do things, which matched his way to do business.

He thrusted you, and he had spoken to you about meeting important people, which you were nervous for. You didn’t want to imagine someone more dangerous and intimidating than him, but you tried to prepare yourself for the worse. You were supposed to meet later that day and he had texted you the address. Parts of you was always being skeptical about his next move, fearing something bad could happen to you, not that you had anything to hide.

Being on your way to meet him, you felt the palms your hands getting sweaty, wiping them off on the black dress you chose to wear. Just like Rio, dark colors were your go to, often wearing dresses and skirts to show your legs. You got out of the car, walking slowly towards the red door, knocking on it lightly.

“Hey mama” a deep throaty voice startled you, making you turn around to see your boss boarding a slight smirk on his face, eyeing you up and down.

You felt your cheeks getting warmer as he motioned for you to follow him through the backyard. You got nervous for a minute but once you passed the wooden door, you saw kids running around and the smell of grilled food making your mouth water calmed you down. He walked towards the table, putting his arms around an older lady’s shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

“This is my boss” he said, looking at her, then diverting his eyes towards yours quickly

“I’m just his grandmother” she said, chuckling lightly before looking back at you. “You must be (Y/N)”

“I am” you answered, nodding softly

“Well, both of you come take your seat, you arrived just in time for dinner” she said motioning her hands towards the table, where a few plates were already laid down. Rio pulled your chair as you sat down, mumbling a quick thank you, string at him as he took the seat next to you. You were getting slightly less nervous as all of you ate your delicious food while talking and laughing.

“So how do you know my uncle?” a 10-year-old kid asked you, taking a bite of his chicken.

“She’s just a work friend, bud” Rio answered for you

“What’s she do?” the kid asked again, looking at his uncle

“Um, she helps me out” he said looking at you “That right?” Rio smirked at you as you nodded

“That all?” the guy in front of him asked, stepping into the conversation, looking devilishly at the both of you. “Heard a lot about you (Y/N)” he continued as you felt Rio getting tense beside you.

“Um yeah, that’s all” you said slightly blushing, feeling Rio’s hand on your back, rubbing it slowly. He changed the subject, knowing his cousin was making you uncomfortable. You continued eating quietly as they all laughed and talked together. You could feel his hands on your back still, pushing back your chair before excusing yourself.

“I’m sorry, is there a bathroom I could use please?” You smiled slightly at Rio’s grandma, as she gave you direction. You made your way inside, finding the bathroom easily. You did what you had to do, and washed your hands looking at yourself in the mirror, reapplying your lip gloss. You could hear the sound of their laughter from where you were, making you sight lightly.

You got out, making your way through the hallway, passing a bedroom, which seemed to be his grandmother’s. You stopped by the door, seeing some picture frames placed neatly on a bookshelf, making you walked closer into the room to look closely at them. You picked a picture of a young Rio graduating into your hands and it made you wonder what he studied. You didn’t picture him as a big school person, so you were surprised to say the least. You jumped slightly as Rio’s husky voice, interrupted you.

“What are you doing?” he said, leaning against the door frame, looking at you, deeply.

“I don’t know, I just got curious” you shrugged your shoulders, watching his every moves. He moved closer to you, making you hold your breath, nervous and aroused. He made you weak in the knees and you could hardly speak without getting flustered. Even thought you were a confident woman, his body close to yours always had that effect on you, and he knew it. You turned towards the bookcase again, feeling his firm chest pressing against your back, as he picked up a smaller picture frame, the both of you looking at it.

“You find anything interesting?” he asked, his mouth next to your ear, sending down shivers down your spine. He put the frame back, his arms brushing yours lightly, making you turn around to face him. His eyes burned into yours, waiting for your answer. You licked your lips, looking at your fumbling hands before meeting his dark eyes again

“I don’t know” you said, feeling bold you dropped both of your hands on his chest, sliding them down until they could rest on the waistband of his pants “You tell me” you stated, before unbuckling his belt.

He stopped you, grabbing your wrist softly, making you look at him a blush creeping onto your cheeks. He shook his head slightly, putting your hand down and dragging his towards your thigh. His finger danced on your soft skin, goosebumps rising onto your body. He lifted your leg slowly, resting it on his waist. His face now in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over throat, making you close your eyes, appreciating the moment. You felt his long fingers trail up to the side of your emerald, green lace panties, before making his way to your dripping core, spreading your juices, letting out a throaty groan.

The sound of him only making you wetter, his finger making its way into your warm tight flesh. A quiet moan erupted from your mouth as you grabbed his shoulder firmly, bringing him even closer to you. The room was silent, except for the sounds of his digits pumping in and out of you quickly. Your breathing was getting heavier, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip, trying to keep your moans to yourself. His thumb found his way to your clit, massaging it slowly, putting just enough pressure to make your body quiver.

He inserted another finger inside of your leaking fold, fastening his pace, making you clench around him. One of your hand traveled to his neck, digging your fingers into the back of it, as he let out a deep groan next to your ear.

“R-Rio” you mumbled quietly, clenching your eyes shut, feeling your climax approaching by the second.

“I know mama” he whispered “let it go” right when the words left his lips, you felt yourself relax into his embrace, as your orgasm took over you. He helped you ride it out, pumping his fingers slowly, before removing them from your inside. You faltered your dress as he moved towards the door.

“Hurry up, you don’t want to miss dessert” he said smirking before leaving you all flustered into his grandma’s bedroom. You waited a few minutes, before following behind him, joining the others around the table outside.

“Ahhh here she is. We wondered where you’ve been” Rio’s cousin exclaimed as you sat down. “Pie?” he handed you a plate, not waiting for your reply. You took it, placing it in front of you listening to the older lady speak. As you all finished your dessert, you saw Rio from the corner of your eyes, dig his finger into the whipped cream remaining on his plate, and popping them into his mouth sucking slowly on them. You could feel his eyes on you, and you could only imagine him smirking as his tongue lapped at his finger, the same fingers that were minutes ago buried into your tight pussy. Just the thought of him tasting the remaining of your hot fluid made you clench your thighs together, Rio not missing the sight of you getting flustered again.

“Mhh … I think this must be the best dessert I’ve ever tasted”

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Thanks for reading

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

[sevlgi]

what we want

requested: yes x2

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

contents: idol!jennie, idol!reader, pr relationship

warnings: none

synopsis: Jennie’s lost herself somewhere along the way of achieving her dream. Behind that tough, cruel mask of hers, she doesn’t know what she wants, and maybe uncovering the mask you wear is what will help her realize it.

a/n: this is so much heavier than either of you guys asked for asalknasdfkj... but i wrote my longest fic yet in less than 2 days!!!! i think that’s an achievement :D

word count: 6k

Kim Jennie did not have a good reputation, and she didn’t really give a shit about it.

At least, that’s what everyone thought. That’s what everyone knew, with the numerous articles a week about South Korea’s resident fuckgirl, with Dispatch’s 20 cameramen hired just to follow Jennie. She was careless, she was cold, and she care what anyone else said about her. 

What no one cared about was Jennie’s reasoning. Because while the first time sneaking out to a club and losing herself in fruit-flavored shots and skimming touches was simply for the fun of it, it was the aftereffect that made her keep going. Because with the articles of Kim Jennie’s newest scandal, Blackpink’s album sales shot through the roof, YG’s stocks completely flipped around, and Jennie herself decided it was worth it. It didn’t matter if her members looked at her a little differently, like they didn’t recognize her, or if she was the only one constantly excluded from appreciation tweets on Twitter. If acting out would help promote them more than her agency ever did, she could do it.

And she did. For almost a year, Jennie became Kpop’s most well-known idol, for better or for worse. For almost a year, Blackpink’s sales were unmatched by any group or artist around the world and Jennie couldn’t read her Instagram comments without wanting to throw up. 

It took a year for YGE to finally do something, and by then, Jennie wasn’t sure she particularly cared anymore.

“Jennie.”

“Youngshik.” Her voice was scarily steady and her face just as calm; Jennie knew that the her from ten years ago, the teenager who was accepted into the company under Youngshik’s watch, wouldn’t be able to recognize her as she sat before the man with crossed arms and a blank expression. But as he stared at her with disappointment glazing his eyes, Jennie lifted her chin higher, almost daring him to speak.

When he did, he sounded almost cautious of his words. “Jennie, I know you. This isn’t like you at all, you can’t carry on like this.”

“What do you know about me?” She had to keep herself from wincing at her own tone, sharp enough to draw blood. “Huh? You haven’t cared about me for the past year, haven’t cared about us. And who the fuck said I can’t carry on? I’m doing just fine.”

Youngshik shook his head. “Please. Ch-- your members know. I know. All you may see right now is the attention you’re gaining, the fleeting ecstasy you get every night, but you aren’t doing yourself any favors right now.”

As much as she hated it, Youngshik’s words cut deep. She wanted to scream out that she was doing this for her members, for the company, and that it didn’t matter what her reputation was like, but Jennie schooled herself into the person everyone believed and knew her to be. “I’m the only thing keeping you afloat right now. You’re wasting them-- Chaeng, Lisa, Jisoo. They keep practicing but you waste them. I’m only doing what you won’t,” Jennie defended herself, anger seeping into her voice at the thought of her members.

“Jennie. MNet has threatened to drop you from the next season of Queendom.” The man’s voice was quiet but deadly, and Jennie couldn’t seem to open her mouth at the thought of her members’ practice being wasted because of her. Youngshik took that as a sign to continue, “I realize that what you’re doing is increasing sales, but netizens hate you right now. You know that, don’t you? We’re trying to help.”

“Oh yeah? How’re you going to help?” Jennie sighed. “Lock me up in your dungeon again?”

“Quite the opposite,” he answered, leaning forward. “We’re going to keep you in check. The only thing that Dispatch likes more than clubbing scandals is leaked couples, and that’s what we’re going to give them.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back. “And how is that going to keep me in check? Dispatch already knows I like girls, giving me a well-behaved boyfriend isn’t going to be believable.’

Just as the words left her mouth, a knock sounded on the frosted glass pane in Youngshik’s office door, and the man stood. “You’ll see once you meet her.”

Her?

Jennie didn’t turn even when she heard the door open, or when Youngshik murmured, “Junho, thank you for coming.”

“Of course. This is her?”

“This is her. Jennie?”

She finally turned, face impassive, but Jennie couldn’t stop her eyes from widening when she saw the person standing in the doorway. You-- she recognized you, specifically the polite smile you wore on your face as you offered a handshake. She remembered hearing you be praised for your constant professionalism, your sterling reputation, and your bubbly personality. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m a big fan of yours.”

“Jennie Kim, but I’m assuming you already knew that,” she said by way of greeting. You nearly winced at her flat tone, but the mask remained on and you gingerly took the empty seat just by her. “So. Am I the only one in the dark here?”

“Not anymore,” Junho smiled. Unlike Youngshik, he looked pleasant, a smile crinkling at the side of his eyes, but Jennie disliked him nonetheless. “The two of you know by now that you’re being set up in a fake relationship. Jennie, YGE’s main concern with you is your reputation. You club, you drink, you... sleep with people.”

She simply nodded, waiting for the point. Youngshik jumped in, “Y/N, on the other hand, has a stellar reputation. Never has had a scandal in her career, except when she publicly came out, and even that had a good reception.”

“How nice,” Jennie deadpanned.

Junho sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “Miss Kim. Despite your shortcomings and the methods that you achieved such fame, you are nonetheless the most well known female idol in the world. From this relationship, you’ll gain stability as well as a cover, a perfectly sweet girlfriend who’ll lighten your image up. And Y/N will receive more attention by your side, exactly what we want for her and her group. Is that clear?”

Jennie wished she could say no-- after all, you obviously weren’t going to-- but she also knew that the two men were right. She could profit, achieve exactly what she was trying to do, but with less damage done to Blackpink’s image. And as much as she wished she could rebel, she found herself sighing through tightened lips. “Clear. I agree.”

“You didn’t exactly have a choice.” Still, Youngshik slid a contract and a pen across the table, and Jennie signed in the blank without a second glance. “Good. Though we realize that this relationship is fake, we want you to at least pretend to be in love, so get to know each other. It’ll be a while.”

“Great,” you sighed. Jennie was slightly surprised by the hint of sarcasm in your voice, but she lost interest when you assumed a polite smile yet again. “How do we do that?”

Junho exchanged a glance with Youngshik but answered by himself, “If it was me, I’d start with a coffee.”

“Can I order something for you?”

“I’m good.”

Your smile was tight, and Jennie wondered how many snide comments she could make before you snapped. But apparently, one wasn’t enough, as you tugged your mask up. “Okay. I’ll get something for you when you feel like it, just wait for me in that booth.”

Without something to argue about, Jennie could only obey, sliding into the booth furthest away from any people. She sighed, staring at the ceiling; she hated that you were being pushed into the contract to save her, and she hated even more that she was purposefully being so difficult for you to deal with. But the truth was that Jennie couldn’t let you keep her in check, couldn’t let you get under her skin or change her from the way that she had been for years. No matter what YGE said, she was succeeding, and she wasn’t having the worst time in the world while she did.

“Uh. I got you a green juice, I hope you don’t mind.”

Jennie stared at you as you slid the bottle over the table to her, removing your mask just to flash her an annoyingly sweet smile. “I didn’t ask for it.”

You shrugged, “Oh, I know. But I read somewhere that you liked green juices, and I didn’t feel right letting you- letting my girlfriend go without a drink.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jennie cleared her throat when she realized how cruel she sounded, and rephrased it softer. “Don’t.”

“Okay. I understand,” you mumbled, clasping your hands over the iced Americano you held. “So. When did we start dating?” When Jennie frowned in confusion, you clarified, “We’re supposed to have a believable, synced story, right? To seem more real?”

The other girl bit her lip but nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Would two months be enough?”

Jennie wanted to tell you to stop pursing your lips when you thought, wanted to make you stop looking so approachable and sweet when you were sitting across from the most-hated idol in Korea. But she shut herself up, if only not to offend someone who she’d be spending a lot of time with. “I think so. We could say that we met at the Gayo Daejeon, since that was three months ago. I asked for your number,” you hummed and pulled out a notepad. “And a month after becoming friends, you asked me on a date.”

“Why did I ask you on a date?” Jennie asked, eyebrows raised. 

“I asked for your number, let’s keep it fair,” you answered with a slight chuckle. “Okay. What would you want to do on a date?”

She considered the question, tapping her nails against the table. “The Han River? Lots of people go in masks, so it’s possible for us to have gone without anyone seeing us. There’s food, nice scenery, we could take pictures--”

“You’re a real romantic, Kim Jennie,” you smiled, pen scratching against the paper of your notepad. “Okay. And we don’t live with each other, since you have a dorm... one of us has to be caught on the route between to make it believable.”

“I don’t think we have to.” Jennie crossed her arms, not moving even when you turned your notepad so she could see. “We just need to be seen in public together a couple times, hold hands once. Dispatch will eat it up.”

You sighed softly and tucked the notebook away. “Okay. At-- at least add me on Kakao. So we can communicate and stuff.”

She stood, tugging her jacket on and her hat down to hide her eyes. “Don’t have Kakao. Have a nice day, Y/N Y/L/N.”

And just like that, with a jingle of the front door’s bell, she was gone, and you could only stare at the untouched bottle of juice across from you or the glass door swinging closed.

Jennie liked practicing with her members. Of course she did-- there was no one she loved more than those 3 girls, and spending time with them was always exactly what she needed. And practice reminded her of better, simpler times: learning a new choreo with Lisa for the next evaluation, practicing English with Chaeng, or asking Jisoo for help with vocals. There were memories in the scratches on the floorboards of the practice rooms, and Jennie liked feeling them every time she stepped inside.

But besides that, it was a secure place. No Dispatch, no cameras, and certainly no PR stunt girlfriends. It was supposed to be her happy place, her home away from the dorm, and the last resort for time alone.

Of course, you had to change that.

“Jennie, Y/N’s here to see you.”

At the sound of her manager’s voice, Jennie’s ankle twisted and she fell to the ground, still panting from dancing. Jisoo bent down to help her up, Chaeyoung and Lisa stopping their practices too. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head towards the hallway outside. “Your ‘girlfriend’. She’s here to see you.”

Lisa gasped at that, her head whipping towards Jennie. “Jennie unnie! You have a girlfriend? Since when?”

Jennie winced and waved Jisoo off before walking towards the door. “I... I’ll explain later. Don’t worry about it, keep practicing. I’ll catch up.”

As soon as she stepped outside, she found you standing there, your smile so wide, as if she hadn’t been so cold to you since the beginning. “Hi, Jennie.”

“Why’re you here?” 

You barely faltered at the tone of her voice, holding out one of two bubble teas towards her. “I brought you boba, I thought you might need a rest from practicing. And don’t worry, Dispatch got the pictures they needed, I ‘forgot’ to put on a mask when I got out of the car just outside the building.”

Jennie sighed, but she accepted the offered cup anyway. She was thirsty; all she could hope was that you wouldn’t take it as a sign to keep coming to see her. “And? I thought we agreed that we only needed to be seen in public when our companies schedule it.”

“Well, I’m not just here for the PR,” you frowned. “You’re obviously opposed to actually dating me, or even from becoming friends with me, but it’ll be miserable if we’re both mean to each other. Let’s at least be civil, okay?”

Why? she wanted to ask. How? How can you be so positive even when faced with me? She pursed her lips, taking a sip of the drink. Somehow, you’d gotten her favorite flavor just right, and maybe the sugar rushing in her blood was what prompted her to say, “Civil. Sure. Thank you for the boba, Y/N.”

“Of course!” you grinned. You startled Jennie when you went to take your flannel off, even more so when you reached out to give it to her. “Here, take this.”

“Um. Why?”

Sighing jokingly, you pressed it into her hand. “Next time, you’re coming to see me. If you wear this while you’re caught on film, it’ll raise a lot of suspicions. Exactly what we want, right?”

Jennie nodded at that, closing her fist around the fabric. “Right. So, are you... planning to watch us practice?”

“Oh, no,” you shook your head, waving your hands. “No, I’ll probably just hang around. Unless you want me to?”

Some tiny, annoying section in the back of her mind wanted to say ‘yes’, but Jennie could hear Chaeyoung laughing in the practice room, and the thought of introducing you to her members wasn’t exactly appealing. “No. That’s okay. Thank you for stopping by,” she attempted a smile. Thankfully, you just bowed and waved goodbye again before turning around the corner, and Jennie relaxed with a sigh.

But your smile lingered in her mind. The first time she saw you, she thought it was genuine-- maybe you were just that polite, just that professional, even with how impossible it was. But talking to you on her own, she saw too many false grins, too much effort being put into keeping that likeable, fun personality up.

Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who was lying, but that fact did nothing but scare her more. 

“So. Are we gonna talk about Y/N?”

Jennie sighed, keeping her eyes on the road. “No.”

“Really? Because you didn’t exactly look happy after talking to the person who’s supposed to be your girlfriend.”

The rapper raised her eyebrows even though Jisoo couldn’t see it over the phone. “Well, she isn’t exactly my real girlfriend.”

In the background, Chaeyoung asked, “What? Then why did our manager say she was?”

“It’s a PR stunt,” Jennie said bluntly. Her manager sighed in the front seat but didn’t speak. “That’s it. Y/N has a good reputation, I don’t. I’m in the biggest girl group in the world, she isn’t. We’re benefiting from each other.”

Lisa groaned into the phone, her voice tinny over speaker. “Is that seriously it? I only heard you guys talking, but she’s trying so hard, and you’re shutting her down. It could be good for you, unnie.”

Jennie pinched her nosebridge and pleaded, “Can we please not talk about this? I’m just doing this-- it’s a PR stunt. Nothing else to it. I gotta go anyway.” She ended the call before anyone could say something, leaning back and pressing her hands to her eyes.

“I don’t understand why you’re so opposed to this, Jennie.”

“Please. Shut up,” Jennie groaned, reaching for the flannel on her lap as the car lurched a stop. The smell of perfume swept over her as she tugged the clothing on, leaving her mask off but donning the sunglasses that she’d been paid to wear. “Thank you for driving me, I’ll see you in half an hour.”

Her manager called out, “One hour. Try to have fun, okay?”

It wasn’t like Jennie couldn’t hear the click of cameras following her as she buzzed herself into the apartment building, couldn’t see the flashes half-hidden in the surrounding bushes. But she schooled her expression and let herself into the building, engulfed in silence once again for the 7 minutes before she reached your apartment door.

“Hi, Jennie,” you greeted when you opened the door. It was disarming to see that perfectly crafted, perfectly kind expression, but Jennie followed you inside anyway.  To be honest, the way you decorated your apartment was almost a perfect reflection of the you that you presented-- sweet, comfortable, but a completely blank slate that could be arranged easily. No pictures decorated the walls, just like how your easy smile never left your face, and the only things on your expensive glass shelves were awards and your own albums. But you smiled, “The flannel looks good on you.”

“Thanks. You can have it back,” Jennie mumbled, peeling it off and draping it over one of the acrylic chairs that tastefully decorated your living room. “It’s a nice place. You’re lucky to live alone.”

You hummed, clearing a pile of papers off the couch so that she could sit. “Sure, I guess. It’s a lot lonelier than the dorm, but it is nice to have all the space to myself.”

“Right.” She sat obediently and accepted the petite cup of coffee that you pushed towards her. “So, what are we supposed to do for an hour?”

“I thought we could watch Netflix and grab some takeout,” you chuckled embarrassedly, reaching for the remote. “I can’t really cook, but I’ll pay for anything you want to order.”

Jennie should’ve asked for pizza, jajangmyeon, something inexpensive but universally enjoyable. But the more she looked at you, the more she realized that for all your effort, nothing she did could possibly break you. Making dinnner for you once, even becoming friends with you and pulling away again, wouldn’t change anything when everything she saw of you was... false. So she stood, made her way to the kitchen, and opened to the fridge. “I can cook. What have you got?”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you protested and followed her over. “I’m serious, I can pay for anything you want.”

The rapper ignored you and frowned at a tub of kimchi. “How does kimchi jigae sound? You’ve got close to nothing in here.”

You were silent for a moment, but sighed and moved to open your cupboards. “Kimchi jigae sounds great. You’re going to be carrying this dinner, I hope you know.”

“That’s no problem,” Jennie chuckled, turning to you slightly. “By the way, have you got any soju?”

“I thought you’d have a better alcohol tolerance.”

“Why?” Jennie groaned, head clutched in her hands. The steam from the cup of coffee that she convinced Chaeyoung to buy for her was absolutely going to melt her makeup, but under the LED lights of the waiting room, she wasn’t sure she cared.

Lisa sighed and patted her shoulder softly as she passed by. “I mean, wasn’t there a month where you went to a different club every night? It’d be weird if you did that completely sober.”

Jennie frowned; she wished she could tell Lisa that she actually spent every night of that month huddled in the corner with a mocktail, hoping to the heavens that Dispatch didn’t burst their way inside and find her hiding. But she shook it off and replied flippantly, “Drinking a lot doesn’t increase everyone’s tolerance, believe it or not. Maybe Y/N just had really strong soju.”

Before the dancer could respond, Jisoo opened the door and popped her head inside. “Hey, guys, they’re ready for us to start filming. And, Jen-- you have a visitor.”

“Who?” she groaned in answer, struggling to her feet and wincing as she removed her sunglasses.

Her question was answered as she reached the stage, finding a familiar face among the camera directors. “Y/N?” she squinted.

“Hey, Jennie!” you shouted with your hands cupped around your mouth. The smile on your face was a little wider than usual, poked into your cheeks differently. It was pretty, Jennie realized, and more genuine. “Good luck!”

Before she could ask what you were doing, huddling with the cameramen while she prepared to film her first Queendom stage, she was called up on stage. But for once, Jennie could feel a smile tugging at her lips as she got into formation, a smile that she hadn’t been able to pull off for a while.

You startled her by cheering her name just before filming began, and inciting laughter from the crew. Some warm flower blossomed in her chest as Jennie spoke her first line, her voice more steady than it had ever been during practice.

As soon as she finished the first attempt at the group shot, Jennie bent down at the edge of the stage and beckoned you forward. “Hey. What’re you doing here?”

“I’m cheering you on, of course.” Jennie found a banner with her name on it in your hands as you approached, the tip of your nose cold from the air-con in the studio. “You did great.”

“Thanks,” she chuckled softly, feeling the banner between her fingertips. “Where’d you even get this?”

You shrugged, “Bought it. I had to make an account and all, so you better be feeling more energized.”

“I am.” Jennie herself was surprised at how true the statement was; for some reason, seeing your dyed hair in the crowd of cameras was like a shot of pure adrenaline, just more intense and gratifying. She smiled, “I am. It’s really nice of you to come, Y/N.”

“Of course,” you said, waving the banner around with a grin creasing in the corners of your eyes. “We’re girlfriends, after all. And I’m your friend.” At the call of a director, though, you stepped back. “I should let you film.”

“Y/N?” Jennie called after you. When you turned to face her again, Jennie allowed her customary gummy smile to take over her face as she said softly, “You can call me Jen. All my friends do.”

You were too far away for her to hear your answer, but the excited little jump you made as you walked back to your spot kept the grin on Jennie’s face as she stood again. She missed the relieved glances her members exchanged behind her back, but she could feel a new kind of energy coursing through her as the director started his countdown again. And-- she kind of liked it.

You hated the popular belief that idols who presented the sweetest, kindest version of themselves to the internet got absolutely no hate. Fans, family, managers-- they all believed that never letting your smile slip and never having a single scandal would protect an idol completely. When you were deciding on your persona for your debut, you thought the same, and so you forced yourself into the happy, positive personality that the world knew.

However, for all your effort, for all the things you had to endure with that same smile on your face, people hated you. They called you fake, tried their best to get under your skin just so they could see you fall. But it was too late to fight back, because that wouldn’t become the kind, sweet Y/N. It was too late to ask for help, and it was too late to let yourself cry. 

When you met Jennie, you were determined to keep her on the outside of that precious mask you could never remove. After all, what would she understand? She did what she wanted to, didn’t care what people said about her, and she was strong. Jennie was as strong as you wished you could be, and you were sure that she would never understand. But the more that you saw her and the more that you talked to her, the more you understood that you were one and the same. That tough, carefree version of Jennie was what protected her, just like your perfectly engineered smile.

The first time you saw Jennie laugh, you knew that you were in deep. She didn’t know a single thing about you, but she was letting her walls down and letting you in-- or at least, the you she knew. But you liked her smile so much that you wanted to keep it there, at any cost. And maybe it meant sacrificing yourself.

“Are you ready?”

“For what? Walking through the street, undisguised enough that Dispatch will recognize us but no one else will?” At your pout, Jennie stopped her grumbling and laughed softly, still adjusting her scarf in the car mirror. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

A beat of silence passed as she grabbed your hand and led you out of the parking garage and onto Garosu-gil. “Hey. Y/N, I want to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I... I’m glad it’s you.” Jennie squeezed your hand, her skin slightly cold with the wind blowing softly around the two of you. “I’m glad you’re the one I’m doing this with.”

You wished that she wouldn’t say that. You wished she’d feel anything else towards you-- contempt, hatred, even, despite everything you’d gone through just to become civil. But you squeezed back, flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Me too. You know, it’d be a lot worse if they set me up with a guy.”

“Why would they?” Jennie frowned in answer. “You came out on your own.”

“Unlike you, I didn’t prove it. You know Korea, you aren’t gay until you prove you are,” you sighed, scuffing your shoes against the cobblestones. “They wanted to set me up with a guy at first, but they decided that accepting YG’s offer for me to date you would be more beneficial.”

The other girl paused, and you didn’t quite dare to look up. “Oh. So you didn’t choose to help me, did you?”

You shook your head quietly, expecting Jennie to react badly. But she huffed out a breath and pushed your arm softly. “That’s okay. We’re friends, anyway, and it was hard for you to get us here already. I appreciate you, you know.”

Opening your mouth to respond, you noticed yet another camera flash, just between two buildings ahead of you. “What?” Jennie asked, following your gaze.

“I-- Don’t hate me for this, okay?” you whispered, stopping in the middle of the road. Before she could say anything, you placed your hands lightly on her jaw, pulling Jennie towards you; before your lips actually met, though, you gave her a second to pull away. Instead, she leaned forward just the slightest bit, barely enough to connect.

You didn’t quite dare to move, but Jennie’s hands rested on your waist and pulled you into her, just enough that your lips slotted together. You could barely hear the clicks of the camera, the warmth of the girl that you were kissing completely clouding your brain.

Before anything else happened, you released your grip and stepped away, lips suddenly cold. “I think that’s enough,” you whispered, linking your hands again and lowering your head.

Jennie laughed breathlessly and continued to stroll along when you prompted her to. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Um. Sorry?”

She only giggled harder at that, shoving you slightly. “What are you even sorry for? You’re a good kisser, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, heat rising to your ears as you shoved her back. “How do you even say that with a straight face?”

“Hey, I had to listen to Lisa say ‘bitch I’m a star but not Patrick’, I think I can handle this,” Jennie joked. Despite all your effort not to, you found yourself staring at her smile again, losing yourself and any other worries bothering you in it, and her, once again. 

Jennie frowned at her phone-- or actually, at the blankness of her texting history with you. After the little PR stunt at Garosu-gil, you hadn’t contacted her once, and she didn’t dare to surprise you at your apartment or properly ask you what was going on. 

“Haven’t you heard the saying that a watched kettle never boils?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a pot,” Jennie replied listlessly, still staring at her screen. “But I have heard it, yes. I’m just hoping the universe proves it false.”

Chaeyoung sighed and hugged her older member from behind, swaying back and forth. “Why don’t you just message her? Or go see her? Our manager won’t say anything about it if you just say it’s for PR.”

“It is,” Jennie frowned, turning to her member. The Australian girl raised an eyebrow, and Jennie bit her lip. “Okay. Maybe it isn’t.”

“It definitely isn’t,” Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. “I saw those kiss pics, you know. And no one kisses like that if it’s ‘just PR’. You like each other, unnie, and it’s time to face it.”

Jennie swatted Chaeyoung’s arm. “That’s so cheesy, shut up. But... do you really think I like her?”

“That’s a question for you to answer,” the younger girl pointed out. “But I’ve known you for close to a decade. If I’m right about this, and I’m sure I am, everything’s about to change for you.”

“Ugh, cheesy again,” Jennie groaned, but she stood hesitantly nonetheless. “But... I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

On her way down the stairs, the rapper dialed her manager on her phone and held it up to her ear while she waited for the dial tone to fade. “You’re driving me to Y/N’s house,” she said by way of greeting. “And it’s not just for PR.”

She was sure that no car ride had ever gone slower; Jennie fidgeted the entire way, cursing every bus that blocked her way and scowling as the sun began to set behind a set of buildings in the distance. The more she thought about it, the more definite it was-- she liked you, more than she thought she could like a person. And while that fact would’ve scared her, should’ve scared her, it didn’t. Because it was you, and nothing about you could scare her anymore.

Somehow, the process of buzzing herself in at the building’s front, taking the same elevator up to the 67th floor, and hurrying her way down blue-carpeted hallways had become familiar. Jennie knocked persistently on the door of your apartment and called out, “Hey, Y/N, let me in. It’s Jennie.”

It took a while for anything to happen, and Jennie was almost backing away by the time that the door finally cracked open. For once, the smile on your face was missing, replaced by a guarded, harsher expression than the other girl was used to seeing. “Jen. What’s up?”

“Uh,” she hesitated, “can I come in? I don’t think we can talk in the hallway.”

You looked like you wanted to say no, but with a pleading look from Jennie, you backed away and let the door swing open. Jennie shut it quietly, following you into the living room, where you stood with your arms crossed. “So. What can’t we talk about in the hallway?”

Jennie wanted to say outright the words that were beating in her throat, but the expression on your face alarmed her. You were like a stranger-- or, maybe, she realized that you had finally let your mask down. “I... Y/N, are you okay?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you responded. Suddenly, the roles were reversed;  Jennie was the one reaching out for you, maybe even chasing after you, and you were somehow the one who was turning away.

“Okay,” Jennie said quietly. You were about to turn away, probably assuming that she was going to leave, but if Jennie had learned anything from you, it was that she couldn’t give up that easily if she wanted you to open up. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you responded instantly. Your words only hurt more when you didn’t look up from the television, continuing, “I don’t want you, and I don’t want anything from you--”

“You don’t get to say that to me.” Anger was once again rushing through Jennie’s veins, though not the kind of anger she was used to experiencing. No, she wasn’t mad at your words in the slightest, or even offended-- she was simply pissed off about the fact that you were shutting her down, and she didn’t know why. “Not when you were the one who started this. Y/N, you wanted me once, you don’t get to go back on that without an explanation,” Jennie gritted her teeth, gripping your forearms in her hands.

You finally turned when she shook you lightly, your face blank. “What, I don’t get to shut myself down? You did it the entire time I was trying, giving my all so that you’d talk to me or even just be civil.”

Jennie pleaded, “You succeeded, didn’t you? You’re right that I was a total bitch when all you were trying to do was be nice and make this tolerable for the both of us, but you succeeded. Okay? You-- you’ve made your place in my heart, and I’m not even angry about it. I just... I just like you that much.”

A derisive scoff escaped your lips as you twisted your arms out of her reach, stepping away. “You like me? Jennie, you don’t even know me. This me, the smiles and boba and everything, it’s a facade.” You threw your hands up in the air, biting down on your lip before sighing out, “It’s fake. All of it.”

“I know it isn’t,” Jennie shook her head desperately. She searched your eyes, scanned the sea of the color she’d grown to love, for some semblance of the person she remembered kissing her. “Look, you kissed me. And I know it was for the cameras, but you can’t tell me that you felt nothing from it. Y/N, you’re a good liar, but you can’t lie to me, not about this.”

You were quiet at that, glancing down at the floor as if you had nothing to say. “I didn’t,” you finally answered, tone firm. “Maybe you did, but I--”

Unable to stop herself, Jennie rushed forward again and tugged you into another kiss, her hands scrunching into the hair splayed over your shoulders. She was almost afraid that you’d push her away, curse her and throw her out of your apartment, but she felt your lips moving against yours. She felt your hands splay on her back, and she felt tears slipping down your face.

When you finally did push her away, it was gentle, though you were rough when you wiped the tears off your face. Jennie wished you’d speak first, but she brought herself to speak. “If your smiles were fake, think of the real ones you brought to me. Even if my smiles were from your facade, that’s still a part of you. I know that though you weren’t trying to, you let me see the real you. And I’m willing to see the rest of you,” Jennie smiled, clasping your hands within hers. Sometime along the way, she’d started crying too, but the salt of those tears was almost honeyed on her lips. “If you want me to.”

“I do,” you sighed, accepting the kiss that Jennie pressed to your forehead with a teary smile. “I want nothing more than that, Jen. And-- I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she laughed, wiping the tears of your face so much gentler than you did. “I know what I want now. It’s you, and it has been you since you tried buying me a green juice in that damn coffee place. I like you, Y/N. So much.”

You tucked your face into the crook of her neck and snaked your arms around her waist again. “I like you too. More than I ever thought I could.”

And maybe, just maybe, you knew what you wanted too. Somehow, that mask you wore had long been tossed to the side. Somehow, each kiss pressed to your face by the girl you never knew you needed to find lingered on your skin like the touch of a miracle, and the smile on your face was finally, finally genuine like you had always wanted it to be.

[canislupus-exe]

Every Step of the Way | finn wolfhard

>> gif credit to @/neaarty on tumblr <<

fandom | Calpurnia

character | (18) Finn Wolfhard

reader | they/them (she ver.)(he ver.)

requested | Anonymous, @wolfhard-tozier, @wukindly

warnings | Drug use, underage drinking, slightly angsty

word count | 1,183

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | can i request a finn w. x reader pls? aged up. where the reader has been going through some things, partying, drugs basically losing themself and finn notices and while he’s on break from filming. the reader breaks down about it and he reminds them that they are okay and always have him and its ends with a soft kiss on the forehead lmao bye <3 thanks.

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

If anyone knew where you were or what you were doing, they wouldn’t believe it. They’d say, “Who? (Y/n)? Impossible. They’ve always been sensible, they would never do those things.” And they were half right. The (Y/n) they knew would never do those things, but that wasn’t really you anymore. You changed.

After you turned 15 you went down a rocky path. At first, it was nothing harmful. Pot and small parties. But then things got worse. There was little you wouldn’t try, and even less you wouldn’t continue doing. Now your system was pumped with more than pot. You were high on four different drugs at the same time and there were lights flashing before your eyes.

You were at a party. You couldn’t remember who’s it was. It was full of people you didn’t know or at the very least didn’t know you. You didn’t care even if they did though. Let them take their pictures and tell the newsstands that Finn Wolfhard’s perfect partner was off the rockers.

You could see the headlines now, “Young Actor’s Partner Washed Up at the Ripe Age of 18″. Maybe you were washed up. Maybe you were off your rockers. Maybe you knew the path you were taking was destructive and would end with your body six feet under. Maybe you knew these things. But you didn’t care. You only cared about keeping yourself awake long enough to enjoy this party.

>> timeskip <<

It was the buzzing of your phone that woke you up. The intense loud buzzing that made your head pound and the stranger laying a few feet away from you groan in pain. You sat up and felt your jacket, trying to ascertain where your pockets were. You finally found your phone and went to silence it when you realized who was calling. You swiped to answer, trying to make your voice sound as far from groggy as you could.

“Hey Finn, what’s up?” You asked.

“Hey, we’re on a filming break and I wanted to surprise you at your apartment but you’re not here. Did they call you into work?” He asked. You silently cursed yourself. Of course, he’d be on filming break when you’re coming down from being high on four different drugs and a horrible hangover.

“Um no, I just needed a coffee. Ha, I guess you arrived as soon as I left.” You said, coming up with the best excuse you could.

“Oh damn. Well, that’s fine, just hurry back okay? I miss you.” He replied. You smiled.

“I miss you too. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“Alright, bye.”

“Bye.” You said before hanging up. You groaned before standing up too quickly for your body’s liking. You leaned on the table next to you, wincing as it felt like your brain was shaking inside your skull. You sighed before walking as quickly as you could to your car.

>> timeskip <<

You knocked on the door of your apartment, coffee in your right hand and a bottle of Advil in the other. Your long-term boyfriend Finn opened the door with a big smile. He wrapped his arms around you even before you could walk inside. You smiled and hugged back the best you could with the items in your hands.

“God I missed you so much.” He whispered and hugged you tighter.

“I missed you too sweetheart. Except I have things in my hands. Can we pause the lovey-dovey stuff until I set it down?” You asked. Finn laughed and pulled away.

“Sorry… It just feels like it’s been forever.” He replied and stepped away from the door. You smiled and set everything down on the table. When you turned around again the door was closed and Finn was leaning in for a kiss. You giggled before wrapping your arms around his neck and placing your lips on his.

The kiss was sweet and made you unbelievably happy. You hadn’t kissed him in so long. You almost forgot how magical it was. This feeling of happiness was short-lived though. You were starting to feel the after-effects of your highs. The feelings of being the golden one soon turned into feelings of worthlessness. This was the doing of the cocaine. The happiness it gave you always left you feeling empty after you come down. You pulled away from Finn, a frown now on your face. When he opened his eyes he noticed and grabbed your hand.

“(Y/n)? Are you alright?” He asked quietly. You averted your eyes.

“Yeah, sorry. I just… It’s nothing.” You replied. Finn tilted his head, confused at your sudden change in mood.

“Are you sure? You seem… different. And… You have bags under your eyes. Have you been getting enough sleep?” He asked. You dropped his hands before clearing your throat.

“I said I’m fine. I’m going to get in the shower,” You said, unsure of how else to get out of this situation. Finn went to say something but you were already down the hall.

>> timeskip <<

Finn sat on the couch scrolling through his Instagram feed and listening to the faint sound of the showerhead turning off. He was still unsure of what was wrong, and even more unsure of how to get you to talk about it. It was then that he saw a post from a news Instagram, and he felt his stomach turn itself inside out. He skimmed the article as quickly as he could, trying to ingest all the information before bringing it up.

He heard your soft footsteps coming back out to the living room and quickly closed the article. You grabbed the remote off the coffee table before sitting down and switching on the tv. Finn swallowed before sighing.

“When did you start again?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows.

“Excuse me?” You asked. Finn turned to you.

“The parties. The drugs. You said you stopped. When did you start again? Or did you never really stop?” He asked quietly. The breath seemed to leave your lungs. You weren’t sure how to respond. Your mind went blank and you could only come up with one reaction.

Your eyes began watering and you leaned your head down. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Crying over the destructive path you put yourself on. You felt pathetic. Finn wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his lap, holding you as tightly as he could.

“You can talk to me, babe. What happened?” He whispered, his voice soft and non-threatening. You found it hard to speak through your tears but tried the best you could.

“I’m sorry. I really did stop, I swear. It’s just… I don’t know. I got into it again and now I can’t stop. I’m tired, Finn. I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do.” You replied.

“Hey, look at me. We’ve got this okay? You can get through this, and I can help you. I’ll hold your hand every step of the way. Okay?” He replied. You sniffled and nodded.

“Okay.” You said quietly. Finn smiled faintly and lightly kissed your forehead before pulling you closer.

“Take a nap sweetie, you need it.” He said. You smiled and sighed.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

[mha-platonic-yanderes]

Settling In: Parentals

Inspired by @i-cant-sing and their Yandere Todoroki Clan AU

The room is pink. Well, it’s mostly pink. It’s pink with white furniture and embellishments. The closet doors are white and so is the windowsill. The floor is hardwood brown. But everything else is a bubblegum pink.

You’d prefer another color, one that wasn’t so bright and grating to the eyes. But you don’t say that. You just fiddle with your one dufflebag’s handle. This is all you have left, after bouncing around from group home to group home. A year ago—when your parents died—you had thrice as much. Now this and the backpack for schoolwork is all you have left.

“Do you like it?” The mother of this house and wife to the current number one hero, asks you a question. He’s not here; nobody’s here except you two. The house seems too big for three people, but there are pictures on the wall of others. It doesn’t look lived in; there is no semblance of a family. Though, the pictures on the wall show a six person family. It shows that there are four more people here and you get your own room. In a house with now seven people, you get your own room and you aren’t giving it up.

Despite the pink color and the vast emptiness, you answer honestly, “Yeah, I do.” You do like it, even if it's not for the right reasons

Her hands are on your shoulder. You can feel the increased pressure on one side lift up, almost as if she’d been purposefully holding onto you too tight.

“Good. Now, let’s unpack.” She gracefully takes the bag out of your hand, setting it atop the bed. You sit down alongside it, opening your backpack. A couple of notebooks, pencils, and two textbooks sit inside.

You start to stand, heading to take the materials to the desk they’ve provided. Though, whilst holding a pair of pajamas—slightly too little but in [y/f/c]—she takes the books out of your hand.

“Just relax, [Y/N].” Rei replies, “Let me handle it.”

You sit on the bed twiddling with your blouse’s edge. You wore your best outfit, even though it was just your school uniform, without the frumpy sweater. 

The bed is insanely soft. With satin sheets, a thick, fluffy comforter, and a healthy amount of pillows, it's easily the softest place you’ve been.

“I’ll have a driver return your school books back to your former school.” Rei replies, on the other side of the room. You shift to look at her, but she has her back turned to you. “I’ll discuss with my husband what school to place you at.”

“Alright.” You’ve had to transfer schools about three times since last year. Moving again isn’t a hassle anymore. You know not to hope you won’t move again. Though. you know not to get attached to anything in case you have to—in case this doesn’t work out.

“We’ll get you a better education than the one you were definitely receiving.” You can hear the gentle thump of one of your textbooks. She heads back to your duffle bag; it’s now half empty. “My eldest three all went to Somei Private Academy for junior high. Two ended up continuing through highschool as well. My eldest went to Shiketsu and my youngest is in Yuuei now.”

You know those schools. They’re expensive, private academies. You’ve only ever been in public schools. The wealth was obvious when you were picked up in a blackened car with a driver. You just didn’t expect them to spend that money on you, a lowly orphan.

“Or we’ll just hire a set of tutors like we did for our youngest before he went to Yuuei.” She decides what to hang up or fold. You’ll have to go through it all later to find everything. Luckily, you don’t own much—or unluckily, depends on how you look at it. But you don’t dwell on the issue long, responding quickly to the lady, “Alright.”

She smiles at you. It’s sincere, motherly. It’s what your mother would’ve done, before the accident. It’s something you sorely missed since then.

“You’re extremely agreeable, aren’t you?” She finishes out the bag, pressing it into the top of your closet. Your backpack gets sat beside the desk. This room is large and your things are set in its appropriate places across from it. 

“I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, darling.” She goes to mess with your hair, “Now, for dinner tonight, let's change you into something a bit nicer, yes?”

You pause, looking at your toes in their pristine white socks. You can see her legs as well, considering how close she is to you, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

“That’s fine. We’ll just have to go shopping for some new things.” Rei replies, taking her other hand to your chin, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “Enji and I know what we are getting ourselves into, buying you a whole new wardrobe will be nothing.”

She takes her hands from your head and into your hands, helping you up.

“Where are we going?” She leads you back from your room to the rest of the house.

“Shopping, darling.” Rei replies, “We have five hours to do so, before I must start dinner, that is. Is there anything you want?”

“No, not really.” She’s already planning to drop a substantial amount of money on you and she’s already being incredibly maternal. You aren’t going to stretch that patience thin and have her snap already. You aren’t going to ruin this for yourself.

She smiles at you, “I’ll figure out what you like soon enough.”

===

The shopping mall standing in front of you was not where you usually would’ve gone. A basic department store, maybe a strip mall if you’re lucky would be where you usually shopped. This place however, is at least four stories high standing stark white and black against the almost colorless blue-grey sky. Though, you don’t get to admire it long. Rei quickly pulls you out of the cold outdoors and into the perfectly heated building.

“Now, I say we head to clothing stores first and then to more home goods type stores, so we don’t have to pack the heavy stuff around. Though, if we get too much to carry, we can send it back to the car and then continue shopping.” Rei replies, “Is that alright?”

You nod, still reluctantly going along this whole situation. The car is actually a limo and you have your own room in a massive estate. You have an impossibly nice and maternal caretaker who’s insanely rich. This is your “Annie” moment; this is your fairytale scenario. The shoe has to drop at some point. You aren’t going to be blindsided when it does.

“Good.” She locks arms with you, holding you close. It’s weird, but not entirely uncomfortable. You want to trust her. Your sense of judgement is clouded, knowing that she can’t really be this nice, but you want her to be like this

She leads you into a clothing store, taking you to the brightly colored section. Rei silently holds a peach colored sweater up to you. She grabs an orange skirt, looking at them both together.

“What do you think of this?” She asks, holding them up together. The sweater is thick, 

assumedly warm. The skirt however, isn’t,. You tell her that.

“That’s what some white stockings are for [y/n].” She laughs lightly, “and please call me Rei. You don’t have to be so formal.”

“Alright... Rei.” Acclimating to her is easy. At the moment, you don’t care what the rest of her family is like, she’s nice and maternal and everything you miss from your own mother.

She grabs multiple sweater and skirt combinations, not grabbing a single pair of pants for you. This store doesn’t sell tee shirts or blouses, sticking to a younger, but put together catalog. You briefly entertain the idea of them being traditionalists, but you don’t mind that. You’ve lived in worse houses than one with conservative ideals.

And besides, the outfits are cute. You hope you can keep them if everything goes south.

“Put these on.” She hands you the clothing, “and I want to see every outfit you try on. I want to see if it looks good.”

The fitting rooms are nicer than any you’ve ever been to. When checking the price of the items she’s handed to you, you can see why. The least expensive thing is a 10,000 yen skirt. It’s plain blue, just like the 1,500 yen one you have on now. It's obviously of higher quality, but guilt pangs in your chest at the thought of her spending so much money on you. This is at least a dozen items in here.

You slip it on, alongside the white sweater, filled with gold stars. You look at yourself in the mirror, before heading out the door. Rei sits in a chair, looking at you.

“You look absolutely adorable.” Rei comments, “We’re keeping it.”

She doesn’t let you put your input in. But she’s paying for it, so you don’t complain.

Five more times, you come out in sweater and skirt combinations. She has nothing but praise for each outfit. It’s refreshing. Your last home was less than pleasant.

Rei leaves you to change back into your uniform. All six outfits are bought and placed into two bags, both on her arm away from you. She wraps her other arm into the crook of your arm.

“Onto the next store we go.”

As you all head to a different floor of the mall, you voice concerns you originally had back in the dressing room, “You know… you don’t have to spend so much money on me.” You tell her, then backtrack, “Not that I’m not grateful! I am really! It’s just that I don’t need stuff this fancy, you know?”

“[Y/N], I am your mother now. It’s my duty to get you clothes and stuff.” She says it with a certainty that is oddly comforting. Everything about her is that way, from her soft, smooth skin to her warm, grey eyes to her bright, white smile. She’s intensely maternal, something that you didn’t realize you wanted anymore, until today, “and we must keep you up to the Todoroki standard. After all, you’re going to be one of us for now on.”

Being one of them. You don’t know of any Todorokis; you’ve never been a huge fan of heroes like some of your peers. But belonging, that’s something you’ve craved since it was ripped away from you. A family—that’s what you’ve always wanted.

“All right.” 

“Chin up, shoulders back.” She tells you, “You’re new life begins tonight.”

===

Rei never let you carry a single bag throughout your trip. She also wouldn’t let you see any of the receipts or let you have a final word on anything you got. But, you got all nice things—all things you like. So, you don’t mind.

“Change into the white dress with the red and pink roses.” She instructs, “And redo your hair. First impressions are important, after all.”

You haven’t met her husband, nor any of her children. But, as the pictures on the wall show, her husband is Endeavor, the number one hero. Usually you’d meet the person fostering you beforehand, but with his affluence, there needed to be no meetings beforehand. 

Following her instructions, you rifle through the bags, finding the dress she wanted you to wear. Slipping out of your old clothes and into the cold, expensive dress is a quick process. Doing your hair to a standard that would make her proud, is not. Eventually you get it right. 

Unlike earlier, you take the time to unbag your stuff. You mimic what Rei did in your closet. Shirts, sweaters and dresses are hung up. Skirts, leggings, and stockings are folded in the dresser. The shoes are placed on the inside of your closet. The few decorations you got are placed so that they don’t move what Rei and her husband already got you. She’s extremely peculiar about order. You won’t break that order.

“[Y/N].” She knocks on the door that doesn’t lock, “What’s taking you so long. Do you need help?”

You open the door for her, “I was just putting everything away, Rei.”

She comes in, looking at the room. She pulls the draws out and reopens the closet door, looking inside them. It’s an inspection, to see if everything is up to code.

Rei pinches your cheek, “ It’s perfect, exactly how I imagined it.”

Perfect. She’s praising your work. The word warms your heart, bringing a smile to your face. You haven’t gotten enough praise in your life, clearly.

“Thank you.”

“Now come on.” She tugs at your wrist, “Enji will be here any moment and I need help plating the table. Usually Fuyumi would do it, but you’ll meet my other children at a later date. Tonight is just about you, me, and Enji.”

“Alright.” Relief settles from your scrunched up soldiers. You only have to meet one new person, not five like you assumed. One person is better than five people—even if he is the #1 Hero. 

You’re led back through the sitting room and into the dining room. It’s nice, well lit. It’s low to the ground and cushioned. You’ve expected this from this house. Every room besides your own is extremely traditional. You expected the whole house to be like this, once you walked through the doors.

“The plates and cups are in the left cabinet, do be careful with them.” Rei points to a side room, at the back of the dining room, “I’ll bring in the cutlery. Enji should be here soon.”

As if on cue, you hear the front door being opened. A low voice calls out, “Rei, darling? [Y/N]?”

You freeze, plates and cups in hand. Something about the number one hero calling out of your name unsettles you. Though, somehow immediately aware of your apprehension, Rei places a cold hand against your back. You can feel it through the dress, which isn’t surprising, considering how thin it is.

“We’re in the dining room, honey.” Rei takes the plates and cups from your hands, placing them down and simultaneously leading you to your seat. You sit, legs together and bent to the side. You sit currently in the seat to the left of the table’s end. 

The number one hero—Rei’s husband—kisses her cheek. He towers over her. She was waiting for him at the entrance. You try not to make any noise; you try not to interrupt them.

She heads to the seat across from you, leaving Endeavor to sit at the head of the table. You aren’t surprised; this family gives of very traditional vibes. He radiates heat to your right, still aflame, showing off his powerful quirk.

The food is already on the table. It’s more than enough for the three people here, possibly more than enough for the six people in the photos—plus yourself. You make your own plate, only getting what you know you’ll eat. You don’t want to take too much, you don’t want to be greedy. 

“Make sure you actually get full, [Y/N].” Rei smiles at you. It’s warm and soft.

“I am, Miss.” You can feel Endeavor staring at you, but you don’t look at him. You shift your head down, looking at the plate in front of you. You don’t grab more; you don’t want to ruin their hospitality with your selfishness.

Rei and Endeavor talk to themselves, mostly about work. They occasionally talk about three other people—Shoto, Fuyumi, and Natsuo. There are four children in the photos on the wall; it’s a family of six. Though, you don’t ask about the unnamed child, it isn’t your place to do so.

You finish your food fairly quickly, but so do the other two. You look up at Endeavor for the first time tonight, asking, “Can I be excused, sir.”

“No.” He replies, “We have things to discuss.”

“Oh… alright.” You fiddle with the hem of your dress underneath the table, “What do you want to discuss, sir?”

“I’ll take the dirty dishes and excess food.” Rei smiles at you, “You’ll be fine, [Y/N]. Pass me your plate.”

Endeavor waits for Rei to leave to start talking. You are acutely aware of how hot it is now, without Rei’s cooling, calming effect.

“How was your day today?” He starts the conversation off decently well. You look him in the eye, “Good.” You were taught manners growing up; you know how to hold a conversation, no matter how intimidating the person you’re talking to is.

“That is a pretty dress on you, [Y/N].”

“Thank you.”

“Now then. While you are here, there shall be rules you will follow. Rei and I have devised a fair list and she’ll go over them with you extensively in the morning.” He tells you, “Though, the ones concerning you tonight are: no technology post-dinner and that you shall be in bed by ten o’clock. Rei shall wake you up at seven am tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Those aren’t too harsh rules; other homes have had worst lists. Though, you won’t make a final decision on that until tomorrow. You tentatively ask another question, “Uhhh, sir. Rei mentioned other children. If you don’t mind me asking, where are they?”

“Shoto goes to U.A. They have dorms now and are forced to stay there. Fuyumi and Natsuo have since moved out, but visit occasionally. You’ll meet them when it is appropriate.” Endeavor tells you, “And [Y/N], call me Enji. You are now dismissed.” 

“Alright, Enji.” As you stand to leave, you use his name, “Thank you.”

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter four rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

After eating dessert and saying goodbye to May, Peter walked you to your room like a proper gentleman.

“You really don’t have to walk me home. I live right across that hall.” You teased him as you leaned against your door. You were glad he did, though. You wanted to spend every minute you could with him.

“I know, but I wanted to make sure you got in okay.” Peter said shyly. “You never know what dangers can be lurking in a hallway. Henry could’ve been around here and you and your feet would’ve been defenseless. You think I could live with myself if something happened to you?”

You laughed loudly and took your time unlocking your door, partially to extend your time together and partially to hide your massive blush.

“Thanks for dinner, Parker. I had a good time.” You said slowly as you fixed his collar.

“I had a moderately alright time.” He said nonchalantly. You laughed at his joke and shoved him a little.

“Fine. I had an amazing time.” He answered honestly. “We should do this again.”

The hope in his eyes knocked you out.

“Definitely.” You agreed. “But at my place next time.”

“Deal.” He stood there for a moment, just staring at you. You stared back, seeing the pale freckles on his nose and around his eyes. The longer you look at Peter, the better he got.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Peter said finally. You sighed softly and looked him over.

Parting really is such sweet sorrow.

“Goodnight Peter.” You answered. You gave each other one more giggly smile before you closed the door, completely missing the victory dance Peter did in the hallway.

“Alright. You ate. Now it’s our turn. Let’s go eat some assholes.” Venom cheered once you were alone.

“You couldn’t have phrased that in a worse way.” You grimaced as you set your keys down.

“I mean, let’s go eat some men who are assholes.” Venom corrected herself.

“Alright alright. Let’s go.” You walked to the window. “But, they have to be a total asshole. We can’t just eat a dick.”

“And you think what we said was bad? Listen to yourself.” Venom retorted.

“I heard it. I meant we have to eat someone who is really, really bad. Not just some random jerk.” You defended.

“Whatever. Let’s go. Your liver is starting to look really, really juicy.” Venom warned. With that, you climbed out the window and prowled the streets of New York.

It wasn’t long before you found a man harassing a woman near a local bar. They were both tipsy, but she seemed drunker than he was. He kept putting his hands on her, despite her protests. Every time she tried to push him away, he’d only try harder.

“Come on baby.” He purred.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want you.” The woman slurred as she pushed him away.

“Yes you do. You wouldn’t have worn that tight dress if you didn’t.” The man said.

Ah yes, logic.

When she ignored his comment, he angrily pushed her against a wall and covered her mouth.

“Asshole?” Venom asked you.

“Asshole.” You confirmed. You and Venom did your usual tactic. You’d start off as you and kindly ask the gentleman to leave the lady alone. When all else fails, you became Venom and ate the bad guy.

You and Venom weren’t cold blooded killers. If a problem could be solved with words, you would do it that way. But there are a lot of bad men on the streets who don’t take no for an answer.

And you catch bad men.

You tore the man away from the lady and she ran away screaming when she saw you as Venom. Most people do. At least she was safe. The man on the other hand suddenly lost his tough guy stamina and resulted to begging for his life.

“Should we eat them?” Venom asked you, loud enough for the man to hear. You did that little thing when half your face was Venom and half your face was you.

People get a real kick out of it.

“No.” You cooed. “They probably taste terrible.”

The man cowered away, begging you to leave.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He pleaded.

“I never much liked the taste of perverts.” Venom snarled.

“Me either. Plus, he’s so puny. He’s probably disgusting.” You agreed.

You were dragging the man along. He was definitely getting eaten, no doubt about it. At least, there was no doubt, up until you heard the sound of feet landing on the pavement behind you.

“Hey, big guy, didn’t anyone ever tell you that people are friends, not food?” A young, muffled voice sounded. Spider-Mans eyes grew comically wide when Venom turned around.

“What are you?” He gasped. You could hear the terror in his voice. Under his mask, he was probably trembling. He sounded so young and terrified.

“We…are venom.” You answered as you snarled at him.

Never gets old.

“Hi Venom.” Spider-Man took a step back in fear, legs shaking slightly. “I’m Spiderman.”

The man took this as an opportunity to get up and run. You quickly ran after him, but you were suddenly covered in a sticky white substance. It wrapped around your legs and you fell to the ground. From the floor, you could see the man getting away.

“I can’t take credit for that. I got that from this really old movie, The Empire Strikes back. It works every time.” Spider-Man panted as he ran over to you.

You decided you had enough of this and easily broke out of the sticky stuff. You grabbed the unsuspecting Spider-Man by the throat and lifted him up by his neck. You could hear the sounds of him choking through his mask, and looses your grip. You weren’t a monster, but you weren’t a superhero either. Spiderman had let a bad guy get away and you could only hope you scared him enough not to do it again.

“You let him go.” You growled as you got in his face. Spider-Man hit the hand around his throat in an attempt to break free, making Venom smile. His feet were dangling off the ground. He was defenseless.

“You can’t eat people.” He choked out, gasping for air.

“We can and we will.” Venom growled. “Since you let our dinner get away, looks like you’ll have to take his place. We hope you taste better than you look, Spiderman.”

“Please don’t eat me. I’m just a kid.” Spider-Man begged. Venom tried to keep going, but you pulled back.

“Venom, put him down. We can find someone else. We can’t eat this guy. He’s too young.” You said calmly and prayed Venom would listen. Spider-Man was right. He was just a kid. He had pissed you off, but that didn’t mean he had to die.

“We don’t want anyone else. We want him”. Venom answered. Spider-Man looked confused, seeing as he could only hear Venoms part of the conversation.

“Put him down. His suit probably tastes terrible anyway. Let’s go find someone else. How about we go find a smoker to eat? You know how much you love to eat smokers.” You argued as you felt her grip loosen.

“They taste like barbecue.” Venom replied, feeling her mouth watering.

“Let’s go.” You insisted. “He’s not worth it.”

“Fine.” Venom grouched and threw Spider-Man against a wall. Spider-Man began to cough and clutch his throat. Venom stormed over to him and grabbed his head, making him look at you.

“If you ever bother us again, we are going to eat both of your arms, then both of your legs, and then we are going to eat your face. Do you understand?”

“We?” was all Spider-Man could get out.

“We.” Venom repeated. “Me and my girl. She saved your life tonight. Don’t except it to happen again. Next time, you’re dead.” Venom warned. With that, you ran away into the night, leaving Spider-Man behind.

After eating a man you saw steal money out of multiple homeless peoples cups, you climbed up the apartment building and sat on the ledge of the roof. You transformed back into yourself and watched as the sun made its way up the horizon.

“What are you doing up here?” You heard a familiar Queens accent from behind you. You smiled immediately and turned around.

“Are you stalking me Parker?” You teased as a bashful smile broke across his face. He looked ethereal in the early morning sunshine so you bit your tongue to keep from giggling.

He was too damn cute.

“You’ve got it the wrong way around. I lived here first. This had been my spot for years now. You’re the one stalking me.” Peter remarked. His voice sounded horse, like he had strained it. He moved slowly, almost as if he was in pain, as he swung his legs over the ledge and took a seat next to you. Your thighs just barely touched, but enough to send sparks though your body.

“Is this really your spot? I’ll leave if you want.” You offered, but Peter put his hand on your shoulder to keep you from getting up.

“It’s our spot now.” He said matter of factly. The sun light up his profile and you could see how tired his eyes were. You wondered what late night adventures kept Peter Parker awake. Peter stared out into the New York City skyline and sighed with content. A gentle breeze blew his brown locks and ruffled your clothing.

Everything was quiet. Everything was good.

“Are you an orphan?” You blurted before smacking your hand over your mouth.

You almost jumped off the roof right there. And you probably should’ve. No, actually, Peter should’ve pushed you off. It’s what you deserved. Who the HELL asks someone you just met that question? Who asks that question at all? Does anyone even use the term “orphan” anymore? Is this Annie? All these questions swarmed through your head as your cheeks managed to burn the brightest shade of red they ever had. Peter snapped his head to you and tried to say something but you cut him off.

“I only ask because…well, I am.” You admitted. “An orphan, I mean. And I saw the pictures in your apartment with the candle and you kinda have that…orphan look to you. No offense! It’s not a bad thing either. I probably have the same look. Plus, you live with your aunt and I didn’t see anyone else come home. Of course, maybe they just weren’t home the one night I was over. Not that it’s any of my business anyway. I’m sorry I asked. It was a dumb, dumb question and I’m a dumb, dumb person and I-“

Your excessive rambling was cut off by a soft chuckles on Peters part. You looked at him confused as it wasn’t the response you expected.

“You’re not dumb. You took down Carlton Drake at 19 years old with no help. I wouldn’t call that person dumb. I’d call her brave, smart, even heroic.” Peter complimented you. “And all the best heroes are orphans. So to answer your question…there was a question in there somewhere right? I think so. Yes, I am an orphan. I live with my Aunt May. I used to live with my Uncle Ben too but he passed away.”

“Your uncle was Ben Parker.” You realized. “I should’ve known. May mentioned his name at dinner. I remember hearing about the shooting. All my friends and I created a club in school to protest the lack of gun regulation in America after that. I’m so sorry, Peter.”

“I really appreciate you doing that. I’m really upset over the lack of gun regulation too.” He was quiet for a moment. “My Uncle Ben used to write too. He was always trying to get me to write for the school newspaper. It wasn’t my thing though. I prefer taking pictures and videos. You’re a really good writer, Y/N. My Uncle Ben would’ve loved you.” Peter said earnestly. You smiled at Peter and scooted closer to him.

“Thank you for saying that. I bet I would’ve loved him too.” You told him. Peter looked down at his hands which were dangerously close to yours. You weren’t bold enough to hold his hand, though you desperately wanted to. Instead, you put your head on his shoulder and looked out at the sunrise. It was a simple, innocent gesture. You were both awkward and knew it. It was the safest thing you could do without something going terribly wrong. Peter rested his head on top of yours and sighed.

“I didn’t know you were an orphan.” He said softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. You nodded, still nestled in his neck.

“My mom died a few minutes after giving birth to me.” You opened up to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone before. “I’m not sure what went wrong but they had to do an emergency C-section. I survived, but she didn’t.”

You got quiet for a moment.

“She never even got to hold me.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Peter whispered. He gingerly laced his fingers with yours. You watched as he did it and didn’t try to stop him.

“It’s weird.” You shrugged. “I never knew her, but I miss her everyday. I wish we could’ve had a conversation. Just one would be enough.” Your mom wasn’t something you often talked about. It was too painful to relive the past so you hadn’t even told Andy the full story.

But you felt safe with Peter.

“You don’t have to have known her to miss her.” Peter insisted. “I bet she misses you too and she never met you either.”

“What were your parents names?” You changed the topic as you rubbed his hand softly with your thumb.

“Richard And Mary. Richard and Mary Parker.” He answered proudly. “I write them letters all the time. I put them in an envelope and everything. Then I put them in a box in my closet. I like to think the read them.”

“I bet they do.” You told him while squeezing his hand gently. In that moment, you could’ve sworn he was yours. Like you were an actual couple that had been through hell and back together. Like you’d know him all my life. Peter looked you in the eyes and for the first time, someone really saw you.

The real you, and he didn’t turn away. His brown eyes stared right down into your soul. You felt insecure suddenly, your soul wasn’t a pretty place to see. Certainly not pretty enough for Peter Parker. But Peter didn’t seem to mind.

You got this feeling all the sudden, this feeling that told you you and Peter were meant to meet. That you were always meant to be in each other’s lives. To protect and love each other, like real people do. Peter didn’t feel like a stranger. He wasn’t someone you met on accident. You were destined to be. Just be. No matter what you were. This rooftop didn’t feel like a place you’d never been before. This rooftop felt like home. And Peter made it feel that way. Or maybe it wasn’t the rooftop that felt like home, it was just Peter. Your cheeks burned up when you realized what was happening. Your heart fluttered and your lungs felt like they were in fire.

You knew it. Every fiber of your being knew it. All your senses came alive at once and in that moment, on that rooftop, your heart looked into Peters and said those two words,

“Welcome home”

[chilly-me-softly]

Are u going to do a part 3 to the chilly fic its so good <3

Part 1 - Part 2

"I did something stupid" you announce as soon as Mason opens the door to his house, walking in and heading for the living room as if you were at your house.

"You? When have you ever done that in your life" the boy rolls his eyes sarcastically as you glare at him. "This is no time for jokes Mason"

"Okay come here" he claps a hand on the couch after sitting down, inviting you to sit next to him so you don't go back and forth, "What happened"

"Do you promise not to judge?"

"Hmm no but I'm listening" he retorts immediately and a groan escapes your lips as you lower your head and start to doubt at that very moment that that is the right thing to do. But if you don't tell someone, if you don't open up to him, you're gonna go crazy. So you take a deep breath and do your best not to look at him.

"Do you remember how Ben helped me that day? Well I wanted to thank him so I brought him a cake"

"Okay" Mason states looking suddenly curious as to where this is going.

"I just- I used a big plate hoping he might bring it back. But he didn't! Ugh why am I so stupid" it takes him a few seconds to realize the meaning of your words, his body straightening up at the revelation while yours almost wants to get swallowed up by the couch in embarrassment.

"You like Ben? Since when?" but still, his tone isn't judgmental, if anything curious and shocked.

"Mase"

"What? You guys are always fighti- oh"

"What oh" you look at your friend lost as he seems to be lost somewhere in his memory before returning to look at you turning slightly towards you.

"Of course! How the fuck did I miss that" he murmurs, "you acted the same way with Tim Reese when we were sixteen"

"Okay first how do you still remember Tim and second what are you talking about?!" you ask somewhat shocked as he smiles mischievously ready to strike. Oh you knew it wasn't a good idea.

"You were always nervous when it came to him and then when he got close to you you became this impassable fortress of coldness and sarcasm. The poor guy had to sweat to even get a kiss"

"That's not true" you try to defend yourself in vain.

"I might be a little offended you know, you didn't even have a little crush on me"

"Please, you're like my brother ew" you wince as he laughs shaking his head.

"So that's how it is today, it all ends over a plate?"

"It was an excuse Mase" you roll your eyes, "if he wanted to see me again he'd know how to hook me up" in short you had even sent each other a few messages, just to test the waters not knowing how far you could go at the time. But your relationship had never been just about the two of you and there was always that fear of ruining that little step forward lurking.

"Maybe who knows, he needs some kind of push too. Ben isn't the cocky guy he wants to appear after all"

"You know something I don't Mase" you look at him inspectively, him raising an eyebrow. "I won't say anything about him if I can't do otherwise"

"No mh-mh forget it" you shake your head firmly, Mason could talk to you about Ben all he wanted no one would know and you still knew how to handle a rejection by acting like nothing happened. But Ben knowing about your feelings and not returning them... no thanks, you didn't need any more embarrassment in your life to deal with.

"Well then you'll never know what he thinks of you"

"What's he even supposed to think, that I'm a crazy person who always has a say in everything and out of pity helped when I was sick" you shrug as he smiles knowingly, he's never going to tell you how worried his friend seemed in the days following your illness or how he was trying to find out something under the radar. Not if he can't tell him that he might find the door open if he wants to join your world. But as sure as hell he would have done something.

-

You correct yourself. That's the moment you know it wasn't a good idea to tell Mase.

He had asked you a couple of times if you were going to watch the game that saturday, he always did that when there were tough games because he said you were his good luck charm even though it wasn't true and most of the time they won or lost regardless of your presence. However, you had already cleared your whole schedule for that day and so he had extended the invitation to a drink after the game.

Nobody had lost, nobody had won. There was regret for a few wasted chances, but nothing that couldn't spur them on to do better the next game. You'd driven to the stadium in your car, not wanting to wait for Mason after the last time he'd made you wait over an hour outside, having him tell you where he wanted to go after the game and waiting for him there.

The place isn't that crowded and you can occupy a table further away, ordering something while you wait and taking the book out of your bag while resuming your reading.

"Hi" a voice makes you shift your gaze from those pages and you're bewildered to see Ben take a seat in front of you.

"Hi Ben"

"Mase said he'd meet us in a bit, he had something to do" the boy shrugs, "but I'm certainly not going to wait for him to order"

"Go ahead, I've already helped myself" you place the bookmark on the page you are on then put it in your bag and before you can let your eyes rest on Ben again, your phone alerts you to the arrival of a new message.

As soon as you see that it's Mason you get a bad feeling, and as soon as you open your conversation you see that he has sent you a picture of a diner where he is with some of the other guys. And it's definitely not the one you and his teammate are in.

"Son of a bitch"

"What?" Ben's voice makes you raise your head in alarm, suddenly you feel nervous and you want to strangle your friend and you want to bury yourself because what are you gonna do now. All while he looks at you expectantly.

"Um eh I- that wasn't meant for you" you murmur pathetically sighing and handing him your phone, "Mason's not coming"

"I don't understand" Ben looks at that picture with furrowed brows, but you can't read his expression.

"Look I'm sorry he set you up for this really. Um we can go and pretend like nothing happened" you stammer trying to pick up your bag and jacket deliberately trying not to look him in the eye and you try to get up but he stops you.

"Woah hey wait, wait. I'm not letting you go anywhere so upset" he is quick to grab the chair and move closer to you, if he wanted to calm you down he certainly isn't succeeding like this.

"Easy now, just try to explain what's going on please"

"Ben really it's not- it's just Mason okay? I just need to beat him up and then I'll be better" a soft laugh escapes his lips and you find yourself huffing but giggling at the same time.

"Nothing wrong with that. Just answer one of my questions first?" you nod losing focus for a moment as one of his thumbs starts stroking the back of your hand.

"He tried to set us up"

"Is that a question?" you ask struggling to swallow, your voice coming out weak and shaky. What's going on?

He shakes his head slightly, "Do you like me? That's my question" and if before it was difficult to find air now it seems like everything has closed for good. There you go, is that how you're going to die? In front of Ben of all people, and still before you can get revenge on Mason for that low blow?

"Cause Mason probably knows I fancy you-"

"You what?" you croak.

"-but he wouldn't have done that if he didn't know something else" his cheeks are slightly red, so he's feeling all that sudden heat too then!

"Ben I..."

"It's okay, it's okay. Look we're in the same boat here, if anything I'm a lot more exposed than you are at the moment because I've revealed to you how I feel and you haven't really let me know that I haven't really fucked up"

"No!" instinctively you lean forward and you don't know why you actually did it, but the sound of your foreheads colliding together resonates loudly. "Ouch I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Oh my god are you okay?" geez you feel so stupid, embarrassed like a teenager struggling with her first crush and as clumsy as you've ever been... or don't like to remember.

"I've taken worse balls" he tries to lighten the situation but your now worried look doesn't seem to want to give way to anything else as you gently test his forehead.

"What do you say we get out of here? Maybe somewhere less crowded?"

"Yes please" you find yourself nodding and after paying quickly exit the building, Ben firmly takes your hand guiding you to the opposite side of your cars.

Neither of you speak on the way, you're lost in your head trying to calm yourself down to get your thoughts in order and not embarrass yourself further. He glances at you from time to time, what he is thinking you cannot know.

You arrive at the park and after a few more minutes of walking you sit down in a fairly secluded area except for a few people walking quietly on the stone path not far from you.

"You were pretty worked up in there" Ben breaks the silence.

"Being taken by surprise throws me off. Probably if I had known you were coming I would have been prepared, and imagined all the possible situations I might find myself in"

"Do you do this often? I mean do you never live in the moment?"

"Obviously I can't predict everything that's going to happen to me in a day, but the important things I like to know in advance so I can leave the anxiety at home and not risk headbutting people" a laugh breaks free in the air and when you look at him you feel lighter, nothing like the you of moments before.

"And to answer your question, yes I like you Ben. That day you helped me I think it helped me realise that"

"Funny, I realized it that day too"

"Sorry I must have looked like a weirdo" the awkwardness comes back overpowering again as he shakes his head moving closer to you some more.

"You were cute. Different from how you show yourself to others" you smile slightly dipping your teeth in your lower lip. "Now, do you still want to beat up Mase?"

"You betcha" you reply promptly causing him to laugh, "but not right now"

[heliads]

Best Kept Secrets (Part One)

Based on this request: “Wanda and the reader are married and the reader mom is Agatha but the reader does not know that...Then Agatha watches the reader having a good time with her family and Agatha is happy but sad because we get another flashback of the reader snapping their finger in order to destroy thanos and his army.”

masterlist / part two

Lights flick on in the studio. Cameras start rolling. Title cards disappear, show is live.

Wanda sits on the sofa, legs folded primly in front of her. Her best friend, Agnes, is seated one cushion over, arm flung over the back of the couch, similar to Wanda in excitement but less so in decorum. Classic, charming 1950s dresses are resplendent on both; Wanda’s is plain, Agnes’ checkered. The scene is set, the black and white filter flickering over them both.

The friends are in mid-conversation when Agnes stops suddenly to point at a ring on the other woman’s hand. “Why, Wanda, I didn’t realize you were married! Who’s the lucky sucker, and how come I haven’t met them yet?” Wanda holds out her hand, and both of them admire the shiny band on her finger. “Their name is Y/N, and you don’t know because we were only married recently. The ceremony was just a short while ago, but I feel like I’ve known them all my life.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Wanda flies from her seat, hurrying over to answer. “In fact, I think that will be them right there. Oh, this is swell- I’d been hoping the two of you would meet.” Wanda opens the door to reveal her spouse, sporting 1950s attire as well, a briefcase clasped loosely in one hand. Y/N leans over to kiss their wife, then glances over at Agnes, who has risen to her feet, a somewhat stunned expression on her face.

“I see we have a guest! I don’t believe we’ve yet been introduced, my name is Y/N.” Y/N holds out their hand to Agnes, who shakes it after a second. “Agnes, dear, I’m Agnes.” The neighbour glances over at Y/N’s clothes, then flashes a cheery grin. “I love your fashion sense, honey! You’ve got to tell me where you got those slacks.” Y/N laughs. “Odds and ends from around town. I saw this purple shirt and I just couldn’t resist picking it up. I think purple’s got to be my favorite color.”

Agnes' smile twists slightly, as if thinking about an inside joke that only she happens to know. “It’s my favorite color too, dear. Looks like we have that in common.” Y/N smiles at that. “I’m afraid I’m rather late to meeting you, though. I have work in the city, which ran a little overtime.” Wanda, after taking Y/N’s coat, rejoins the two newly formed friends. “Y/N’s magic at computing. Magic’s just the right word for her, actually.”

Y/N flinches at that, turning to Wanda with a frozen smile. “Wanda, honey, I thought we weren’t supposed to be bringing that up.” Wanda just waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it-Agnes already knows everything about me. She won’t be worried by a few things that are out of the ordinary.” Y/N visibly relaxes. “That’s good to hear.” Y/N faces Agnes once more, smiling. “If you know about Wanda’s magic, then I’m assuming you’ll know about mine. I’m still not sure when to tell people or not. I don’t want a whole Salem Witch Trial on my hands, you know? That could get kind of messy.”

Agnes grimaces. “You have no idea.” A faint ripple of laughter cascades down from the audience, and Y/N smiles fondly at Wanda. “That’s part of how we met, actually. We both have similar abilities, except she’s in red and I’m in purple. It certainly helped bring us together- I don’t think anyone can really understand everything about me except her.” Agnes clasps her hands together. “That’s just darling, honestly. You two are the cutest.” 

Camera zooms out on the scene, screen fades to black. 

Agatha walks out of the house while Wanda is busy setting up the next scene. There’s no way Y/N could be- absolutely no way. But there are too many similarities between herself and Y/N for a coincidence- the purple, the magic, the resemblance? It couldn’t possibly be true, but yet, Agatha still has a dawning realization that Y/N could maybe, possibly, just be-

Scene opens to a new episode. The audience cheers, action!

Y/N stands, holding their young son Billy in their arms as he carefully tapes the last edge of a banner to the wall. Y/N adjusts their grip slightly, Billy’s shoes several feet above the ground so he can properly affix the banner. There’s a whooshing sound from behind them, and Y/N glances over to see their other son, Tommy, just arriving in the room. He flashes a thumbs-up and a big grin to his parent. “Everything is set. We’re ready to go!”

Y/N smiles, putting Billy back down on the ground once the banner is secure. Billy gestures excitedly to Tommy, who pulls a card out from behind his back. “We made this for you!” The boys say, identical broad grins stretching across their faces. Y/N beams at them, flipping open the card to read the message inside. “Aw, you guys are the cutest! Thank you so much!”

There’s a sound from the staircase, and all attention is instantly diverted away from the card and to Wanda, who is descending from the upper floor. She begins to enter the room. “What’s all this noise I’ve been hearing?” Wanda freezes in her tracks, taking in the room, the banner, the decorations. Billy and Tommy run up to her, shouting “Happy Mother’s Day!” to their mother and wrapping their arms around her. Wanda laughs, glancing around her with a look of awe. “You put all of this together?”

Tommy smiles exuberantly. “Well, Y/N helped us too.” Wanda nods understanding, gaze cutting across the room to her spouse. “That doesn’t surprise me.” Y/N laughs, leaning over the boys to kiss Wanda. “It was an important occasion.” Wanda grins, then her voice drops to a whisper. “Have you really been up decorating with them since early this morning?” Y/N’s eyes widen in exhaustion. “Yes. I’m going to bed at 5 tonight to make up for it.” Wanda grins. “You’re the best.”

Already, the twins are tugging at Wanda’s sleeve, pulling her over to the semi-edible breakfast they’ve prepared. Y/N watches them go, but once all eyes are off of them their grin fades away and they stand alone, looking on in melancholy. Once Y/N’s sure their family isn’t watching, Y/N slips away, out of the house through a door out back. They walk into the backyard, breathing in the refreshing air of morning. 

However, it doesn’t look like they’ll be alone today. There’s a shout of greeting from the sidewalk, and Agnes starts to walk over to them, but her friendly grin drops when she sees the look on Y/N’s face. “You alright, dear?” Y/N sighs, looking away. “I should be fine, it’s just-” They break off, hesitating a few times before continuing on. “When I was very young, my mother left. My father was already out of the picture, and it was just us until, well, it wasn’t. It was one thing to have to learn how to take care of yourself when you’re so small, and it was a whole lot worse when I had to figure out all this.” Their voice drops off as they hold up a hand, purple sparks and streaks flying around their fingers.

“I was scared and alone and I had no idea how to control my magic. All I knew was that my mother abandoned me, probably because of all this.” Agnes’ face drops, and she looks shattered. “Oh, honey, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.” Y/N laughs bitterly. “It’s alright. Sorry to burden you with all of this so early in the morning, it was just strange seeing the boys so excited about Mother’s Day and all that. I was wondering why I didn’t have any memories like that with my mom or if I should be calling her and then I remembered.”

Agnes sighs in sad sympathy. “Well, I don’t know if this will do anything, but if it makes you feel better you can consider me your mother for now. I know it doesn’t solve anything but at least you’ve got me, you know?” Y/N smiles ruefully at that, glancing over at the dark-haired woman. “Thank you, actually. It means more than you’d think.” Y/N laughs quietly. “In that case, I think I should give you this. The boys found it from the highest quality of Hallmarks.” Y/N pulls the slightly bent card out of her pocket, and hands it over to Agnes.

Agnes laughs. “I’ll treasure it.” Y/N laughs as well. “Well, I’d better get back inside.” They start to head back over to the door, and then turn back to face their neighbour once more. “Oh, and Agatha? Thank you.” With that, they disappear through the door. Agnes stands alone in the backyard, suddenly frantic. “Wait- how did you know-that’s not my name- how did you-?”

Cameras cut to black. Ad break begins.

Agatha feels sick to her stomach. Seeing Y/N so hurt, so sad over the disappearance of their mother? It was strange seeing them like that- Y/N was always happy, always smiling, always there. Yet in the flash of an eye, their guard had come down, revealing the person within, who was far more battered and broken than Agatha could have thought. And then Y/N said Agatha’s real name-

She doesn’t know what to think. As she crosses back over the road to her house, Agatha’s head is spinning. She doesn’t want to go back to that time, to revisit that memory, but the scene is already building before her eyes. It happened many years ago, but Agatha can still see it as plain as day.

Agatha stands in the center of the witch coven, one she’d found only recently. She’d been hoping for another group of women to teach her power and control, but it had been a mistake. She can see that now, see it in the way they stand and why they’ve come. Agatha’s voice is raw with begging and pleading. 

“Please, no! You can’t take my child! I’ll do anything- leave, use my power for you, anything. Just don’t take them. They’re just a child! They won’t know how to survive!” The coven shakes their heads, and the leader steps forward. Agatha shrinks away, but the witch still approaches. The leader casts a spell, one that freezes Agatha in place. The woman draws closer, takes the bundle wrapped in blankets from Agatha’s arms. The witch stares at the bundle, at the face of the child inside. “You knew the rules. They cannot be broken.”

The witch walks away. The coven melts away to follow her, and they all disappear into the night. Agatha isn’t sure when the immobility spell breaks, or if it matters at all- she couldn’t move an inch if she tried. All Agatha can think about is the child that has been ripped from her grasp, the child she was just beginning to raise as her own. 

Y/N. That was the child’s name. That was the child Agatha could have had, and the child that is now gone from her forever.

Agatha’s eyes snap shut, sealing her away from the world around her. She can’t think about this anymore. She gestures idly, sending out a magical message to the show. Continue on with the episode, further the plot. Anything to distract Agnes from the pain of the past.

Return from the ad break. Scene opens with an overhead shot of the city. B-Roll is being filmed for the title sequence.

Agatha stands from a distance, watching the figures before her. Y/N and Wanda have decided on a picnic, something cute where they can bring their children along. It was a good move on Wanda’s part- they’re not saying any important lines, and park picnics are always adorable and simplistic enough to make excellent material for her next title sequence. Y/N has recovered from the memories of their past with their mother. Agatha wishes she could move on as easily, although she has a feeling that Wanda took note of her spouse’s unhappiness and wished it away in the changing of the decades.

Y/N is laughing now at a joke one of their children told them. It was a terrible joke, certainly, barely makes any sense, but that doesn’t matter because it’s a beautiful day and Y/N is happily content here with their family. Y/N reaches over to muss up the hair on Tommy’s head as the boy attempts to use his super speed on a Rubik’s Cube. Wanda hands them a sandwich, and Y/N kisses her lightly on the cheek as a thank-you. They look so happy here, so peaceful. It’s hard to imagine that it’s all happening within Wanda’s barrier, that all of this is only happening because Wanda called it up.

Y/N kneels on the red and white checked cloth of the picnic blanket, reaching for a water bottle. It’s an innocent scene, perfectly charming and everything, but Agatha flinches just for a second. It’s that movement right there, Y/N kneeling and their right arm raised in front of them. It reminds Agatha of something she saw in Wanda’s head, when she was searching for a reason as to how Wanda conjured up this entire place. Agatha winces, trying desperately to stem the flood of memory, but it’s no use. The moment is called up before her anyway.

The battleground is desolate, armies of heroes and alien mercenaries clashing all around. The sky is dark with dust and debris. Tony Stark, or the famous human hero Iron Man, sees the Infinity Gauntlet torn from Thanos’ mighty fist and begins to lunge for it, but he’s stopped by another figure, who holds out an arm to block him. Tony turns, sees a familiar face. Y/N shakes their head. “I’m not letting you do this. You have a family who needs you.” Tony puts a hand on their shoulder. “You can’t do it either. You have a life in front of you.” Y/N smiles, though it is sad and broken at the thought of the life they’re about to give up. “There are people depending on you. Tell Wanda I love her.”

With that, the witch sprints away, meeting Thanos at the gauntlet just in time to be knocked aside to the ground with a blow that shakes the earth, a blow that would have killed anyone who didn’t have Y/N’s power. The other Avengers charge Thanos again, desperately trying to fight for a world where Y/N won’t have to make the sacrifice they know is coming. It doesn’t matter. Thanos still rises, still strides towards the gauntlet. 

The Mad Titan slips the gauntlet onto his hand, grimacing in agony as the power rushes over him. There’s a silence on the battlefield. Y/N claws their way out of the cracked ground around them, stands and locks gaze with the Sorcerer Supreme, who holds up one finger. Just the one, but it is enough. Y/N nods, eyes flickering shut for just a second as they reconcile themselves to what they’re about to do.

Thanos stands triumphant. His fingers are about to come together in a snap when a figure flies out of nowhere, violet magic lighting them up and making their eyes dance in a purple haze. Y/N’s hands lock around the Infinity Gauntlet, and they begin to pull it off before Thanos backhands them into a rocky outcropping.

Thanos smiles a crooked leer, speaking one last time to the assembled warriors. “I am inevitable.” He snaps his fingers, but nothing happens. Confused, he turns over his hand to see that his gauntlet is empty, and whirls around to face Y/N once more. Y/N, who is kneeling on the broken ground, whose hand is enveloped in a gauntlet of purple light, Infinity Stones displayed proudly across their knuckles. The power of the Stones should be too much for them, almost is, but they keep their cries of agony buried deep inside.

“Not anymore.”

The sound of their snapped fingers echoes across the battleground. Around them, enemy ships crumble to dust, scores of fighters turning into ash. Even the Mad Titan himself decays away, although he is the last to go. The heroes turn to each other in awe, but their smiles of victory slip away as they realize the cost. The final cost, one that cannot be erased by another snap of gauntlet-clad fingers.

Wanda flies down from the sky in a cloud of scarlet, her face a mask of calm. She rushes to Y/N’s side, helps them sit down against an overhang of metal. Wanda smiles at her love. “You saved us, Y/N, you saved us all. You did it.” Y/N opens their mouth to speak, but can’t, and settles for a quiet smile of their own. Their face, arm, entire right side of their body is split open from the brunt of the Infinity Stones, a hundred scars and gashes crisscrossing across them. Wanda cradles Y/N’s face in her hands. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Y/N nods, just the once, and then their eyes lose that light, the light they’d always seemed to spark and carry. The last remnants of purple charms and magic fade from their body. It is only now that Wanda allows herself to lose her painted picture of serenity, allowing her face to twist with the grief and sadness of a lifetime. Y/N is dead. Y/N is dead. Y/N is dead.

Agatha stares at the happy family in the park, at Y/N in the center. Y/N L/N, Avenger, was buried a couple of weeks ago. Agatha came to Westview to find out how Wanda had so much power flowing right at her fingertips, and was later joined by S.W.O.R.D. or whatever that organization was called. Between the two of them, there’s no doubt that Wanda will be forced to leave this daydream behind and join reality, but Agatha doesn’t know if she can take it. Agatha doesn’t even know if Agatha can take it, to be honest. At some point in the future, there will be a time when Agatha will have to watch her own child fade away into nothingness once more, gone at last.

It’s strange to think that Agatha technically hadn’t met her child at all, that this Y/N is just a projection of Wanda’s power, but they’d grown so close. Agatha bites her tongue, trying to focus on the physical pain instead of the knowledge that haunts her, that she’ll have to say goodbye to her child once and for all. Then she turns, and walks away. The family remains at the park, one witch among them smiling and laughing for all to see.

[bludemons]

We're not gonna leave you (Ralvez x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer and Luke are about to miss another birthday of yours because they're called on a case. But what happens when they come home in time?

Warnings: talk about unsub, swear words, depressing thoughts, crying, angst, anxiety, fluff towards the end, Luke and Spencer being idiots

Words: 2.3k

Tagged: @subbyspence @yours-truly-r @mgg-theprettiestboy

(gif credit to @zhuzhubii)

It's your birthday and of course you're alone, again, cause the boys were called away on a case 2 days prior and your mood wasn't the best to say the least... It was the 4th birthday you wanted to celebrate while being in the relationship with the boys but also the third one you were alone cause they were called away to catch some crazy killer. You already had a feeling that you would be alone again and it slowly led you to thinking if Luke and Spencer actually wanted to spend your birthday with you and not in another state. Well it was your home state, again. Every year around your birthday they had a case in your home state.

You had woken up to texts from your family, friends, coworkers and your boyfriends coworkers, from everyone but Luke and Spencer. It made you feel even worse, strengthening the thought you already had: they didn't want to be with you on your birthday. Maybe they didn't want to be with you in general anymore. Deep in your heart you knew that it wasn't the truth but right now you couldn't focus on that. It was your birthday and neither of your boyfriends had texted or called like they usually would. It was the first time in your entire life that Luke forgot your birthday. He always made sure to at least leave you a text, telling you how much he loves you and wishing you the best, already planning on what you'd do to celebrate your birthday when he was away. It was like a punch in your face, no, it was worse than that.

But what you didn't know was that your two boyfriends were on their way home to you, knowing how sad you were when they told you that they had another case or better, the same case as the two years before. It was the same unsub all the years and they took her down a day prior. She started to kill around your birthday but never getting her true target, you. Once Luke and Spencer had looked at the pictures of the victims again, it took them only one look at each other before they ran off to their unit chief. Emily was currently talking to a police officer when she saw the two men running towards her. "Woah boys, slow down. What's going on?", she asked while looking at them trying to figure out what was on their mind. "It's Y/N. The unsubs main target is Y/N", Spencer said, a bit out of breath. "What are you talking about?", Emily asked again. Luke only grabbed her hand, walking towards the conference room where the pictures were. "Look at the pictures Emily. Look at them and tell me that they don't look almost exactly like Y/N", Luke said while looking at his unit chief. And in that moment it hit Emily. The men were right, all the victims looked like you, only slight differences in appearance and they were not only in your home state but most of the murders were in your hometown too, leaving no questions that it had something to do with you. She called the rest of the team into the conference room, telling them what was going on. After that new information, Garcia dug a bit in your life to find anyone who would fit the profile. It only took her about an hour of digging through your past until she was able to find someone who could be the unsub. It was your ex best friend. She was always jealous of you. About the friendship you had with Luke, cause surprise she had a huge crush on him, thinking you were taking him away from her. How everyone liked you. Your healthy and happy family. About the fact that you were able to come out as bisexual and everyone excepting you for who you are. But she didn't only have a crush on Luke, she was in love with you too.

Wanting you to be all hers. She wanted your attention and she hoped she would get them from the murders. Garcia soon found her address, immediately calling her colleagues, telling them what she found. As the team began to get ready, Emily stepped in front of Luke and Spencer. "You're not coming with us", she said sternly. "What?! why?! Of course we are going, it's about Y/N!", Luke exclaimed. "Exactly, it's about your girlfriend. Your girlfriend who's again going to be alone on her birthday so yes, you both do get your asses up but only to fly back home to your lover girl with the next flight. We've got this and we're gonna update you as soon as we have news. Got it?", she looked at the men with a raised brow. Luke and Spencer both nodded, taking off their vests, grabbing their stuff, quickly saying goodbye to the rest of the team and driving to the airport, hopping on the next plane, on their way back home to you.

"Do you think she's going to be mad at us?", Spencer asked his boyfriend as they finally found their seats and sat down. Luke shrugged, he really didn't know. "I don't know Spence... I don't know if she's going to be mad at us but I know that she's sad. We definitely need to make it up to her with every little thing we can give", Luke had turned towards the man beside him. Spencer sighed, knowing that Luke was right. They both fucked up, again. It was already hard to make up for last year's birthday but knowing that you thought that they would miss another one, broke both their hearts. It wasn't a long flight ,at least not for them and after 4 hours they were back in Quantico, quickly making their way back to your apartment.

Yeah, maybe the case was a hard one but the other team members found time to text you, even rossi did so and he had never, never texted you before. Ignoring every text and call you got, especially Penelope's, leaving most people on read, you put down all the blinds in your apartment, shutting down any form of light, you just wanted to drown in the dark, letting the bad thoughts take over. So you went into the bathroom and curled up in the bathtub. Yes, the bathtub and not the bed. You felt like any kind of comfort wasn't what you needed right now. So you laid there, slowly opening the drain until the lukewarm water started to drench your clothes. You didn't even notice that you started to cry until you felt a warm tear falling onto your hand. Knowing the tears wouldn't stop any time soon, you just let them run down your cheeks, your body starting to shake as you began to sob. The thoughts finally really set in. Your two boyfriends, the loves of your life, forgot your birthday and probably didn't want to be in a relationship with you anymore.

You were slowly starting to fall asleep in the already cold water, tired from the tears that still streamed down your face and the sobs that wrecked your entire body. But before you were able to completely close your eyes, you heard keys jiggle in the hole of the front door. You couldn't care less, you didn't move one muscle, just accepting the fact that if it was a robber or murderer that this was your time. You didn't have the strength to fight or even open your eyes when you heard footsteps coming your way. "Luke?", Spencer quietly asked the man who stood beside him. Luke hummed in response. "We really fucked up bad this time", Spencer's eyes were starting to get glossy as he heard your sobs. Luke sighed, looking at his boyfriend and then at the open bathroom door. "I know baby, I know", he took Spencer's hand in his, softly rubbing his thumb across the back of his boyfriend's hand, "but we're gonna make it up to her, okay? We're gonna take some days off, going on a vacation, making sure to show her how much we love her and how much she means to us", Luke said quietly as he looked at spencer. The other man nodded, exactly knowing what he meant with the last part, and looked towards the bathroom again. Luke took this chance and slowly walked towards the door, taking Spencer with him.

"Y/N sweetheart?", Luke quietly asked into the dark of the bathroom. You had tried to stop sobbing as soon as you heard the hushed voices of your boyfriends, but they heard them anyway. "Can we come in?", you heard Spencer ask you. You only sniffled, not able to form words in your current state. Luke wordlessly told Spencer to put on the lights in the living room, not overwhelming you with the brightness of the bathroom lights. As soon as Luke was able to lay his eyes on you, his heart broke into a million pieces, the same as Spencer's when he came back to stand beside him. They both took in the sight in front of them. You were laying in the bathtub, wearing one of Luke's shirts and one of Spencer's boxers. Tears brimming in both of their eyes as Luke was the first one to approach you, carefully and slowly kneeling down beside the tub.

Before he turned himself to you, he looked at Spencer once again. "Baby can you go and grab some clean and dry clothes and make us a tea?", he asked him. Spencer nodded slightly before turning on his heels, determined to get you the comfiest clothes he could find before bringing them back to the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen. Once he made his way there he started to boil the water, putting in a tea bag of your favorite teas in your three matching mugs. While Spencer was making you all a cup of tea and preparing some snacks, Luke slowly took one of your hands in his, making you look up at him, a small genuine smile on his face.

He knew that you weren't able to form a word right now so he decided to just ask you "yes or no" questions, making it as easy as possible for you. "Why don't we get you out of the tub, huh sweetheart? Do you think I can drain the water?", his voice as soft as it could be. You nodded, slightly tugging on his hand. You wanted to feel him closer. Knowing what you wanted, Luke pulled out the plug to let the water out of the tub, moving a bit closer, putting both of his big hands on the sides of your face. "We're so sorry bub, we really are. We're gonna explain everything, I promise but now let's get you all dry and in comfy clothes again. Does that sound good?", he asked again. Earning another nod from you as your eyes glanced up at Spencer who was standing in the door, looking at Luke and you with all the love in his eyes.

Luke stood up slowly which caused you to whimper, gripping his hand even more, not wanting to lose his contact. "Shh bub, I'm not going anywhere, I was just standing up so I can help you out okay?" Luke was pulling you up with him so you were standing on your shaking legs, barely able to hold your weight yourself, but luckily Luke was there to hold you. He carefully lifted you out, still holding you when he placed your feet to the floor, nodding his head towards spencer. He walked into the bathroom, carefully removing the cold, wet and heavy clothes from your still shaking figure. As soon as Spencer had you stripped out of your clothes he wrapped a towel around you, carefully drying you up. Both of your boyfriends were whispering small encouragements. Luke always told you what a good girl you are, how much he loves you, how he could never even think about leaving you, telling you that you were the love of his life (of course Spencer too). When it came to Spencer he always rambled about how it wasn't physically possible to love someone as much as he loves the both of you, always rambling small facts about love and your favorite interests.

As soon as you were back in one of Luke's hoodies and one of Spencer's checkered pyjama pants and some fuzzy socks (mismatching as it has to be), the two men led you over to the couch. Spencer had lit up every single candle he found in the apartment, making the living room feel all cozy and not too bright. Once all of you were sitting down, you snuggled up with Luke. "We're really sorry that we weren't here on your last birthday but we can explain it, we really can. It may sound crazy but it's the truth. and of course we didn't forget your birthday sweetheart, as soon as we knew who the unsub was, we took the next flight and came home. We love you with all of our heart and we promise you and we're never going to miss another birthday of yours. We planned on taking some days off, going on vacation, just the three of us. how does that sound bub?", it was Spencer who was speaking this time and instead of a nod, they actually got a real answer. "I-I'd really like that", your voice was just a whisper, still a bit sore from all the crying. Spencer and Luke both smiled as they each kissed one of your cheeks.

This was the moment a small smile was finally creeping its way on your lips. the fact that both your men were home, on your birthday, taking care of you, planning on going on a vacation, was all it took to overshadow the dark thoughts in your mind.

[i8jisoo]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ⇉ skz with pregnant!reader

seungmin x reader | part seven of dad!skz

↬ genre; fluff & angst

↬ warnings; obviously pregnancy, talk of sex/condoms, talk of morning sickness, cursing, child-birth

↬ notes; i feel like my mental health is getting worse and it has been really hard to be positive but i finished this awhile ago, never posted it! just thought to post it today since i just reached 500 followers,, tysm everyone for the support on my posts and following me for content,, i’m waiting for enhypen debut rnnn, it’s really one of the only things keeping me happy n ready. my bias is jungwon :) he’s so adorable n cute i can’t wait + i hope to start writing for enhypen soon when i feel better,, ty guys <3

the night was a one night stand

seungmin had no plans to see you after, you already gone by the morning so it made no different what he wanted afterwards

so with his number in your phone, you decided that texting him would be the best

you texted him your address, asking him to meet with you after u addressed who you were

the best maybe after twelve, seeing as how from nine to eleven you would be occupied with the toilet bowl, the morning sickness really weighing on you

hes there, ready to talk, looking great

ur just there in a t-shirt and sweatpants with slightly messy hair

you seat him on ur couch, pacing in the kitchen before actually beginning to talk

“it broke, or maybe you forgot. i don’t know but you, you got me pregnant.”

i honestly see seungmin being really innocent in this and he’s just made a bad decision which resulted in a baby

“wh-what? no, i used.. i..”

it dawns on him that he can’t remember slipping on a condom before

he’s turned white as a sheet, probably feeling more ill than you

he does the math, figuring you’re around two months, you’re not that far along obviously

“we don’t have to do this, you hardly know me.”

hes shaking his head quickly, “nono, i wanna.. i may never get this chance again. i might not ever meet someone again, so, if it’s with you? i’m fine with that.”

seungmin was there for the next appointment, fully supportive and stepping up

hes scared but so excited

he also moves out of the dorms, raising flags, but he keeps assuring everyone that he was just getting a change of scenery

he claims he got a dog but uh, there isn’t one

he actually moves in with u, an apartment that wasn’t too far away from the dorms and he will time to time spend the night if they need him to

ur actually really understanding of his career and u admire his adjustment

late night with him where u two go to a twenty-four hour convenience store and buy every junk food possible

u also acquired strange cravings such a pineapple and cream cheese or kimchi and chocolate sauce

that night however u rly had a craving for cheese and cheese only

it doesn’t last however, from three to five you are in the bathroom hunched over

he?? isnt?? actually?? the worst partner to get pregnant from a one stand with?????????????????????????????????????????

he’s pretty much a sweetheart

bless everyones heart though when they find out about you

“this is my friend, we are.. having a uh, baby!”

haha surprise...

u swore that jisung’s breath was lost when he said that

chan is fucken freaking out about this

“we’re gonna be uncles!”

everybody screaming and cheering which was a good sign

ur days are average and u guys just act like friends

friends having a baby lmfao

it’s a fine line between dating and not dating

seungmin reaaalllyy likes you but he has this bit of guilt in him for getting you pregnant

ur the one who uprooted your life and ur gonna have a kid for the rest of ur life with him and he’s still living his and doing what he loves

seungmin heart eyes motherfucker when u come to a concert, just there to see him n see what he does for a living

u guys get this cute ass picture of everyone lmfao i just imagine the boys and seungmin standing around and posing with ur small bump

he doesn’t get to go to every single appointment, so his first appointment he went to was when you were around six and a half months

he’s super excited and just super nervous

so many expecting moms its crazy

when your name is called and you two go back, he’s jumping out of his seat and going back with you

the doctor applies the gel on your stomach, the rounded bump sticking out prominently

his hand clasps around yours, fingers laced with yours and he gives you a warm smile

the screen flickers on and theres your baby

it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen

he can clearly see the legs and arms, theres the head!!! he can make out the toes and fingers

then u guys get to hear the heartbeat together

it’s so strong and he just,, wow.. this is real 😣

ur bearing his child, your guys’ baby,, he can hardly believe it

then the doctor asks if u two want to know the gender

“yeah.” 🥺🥺🥺

ofc u could’ve known before but u didn’t know if seungmin wanted to find out or wait n u just would feel guilty if u went ahead

he was rly trying to be as involved as possible, he had a busy schedule and u two weren’t even dating and this whole thing was happening secretly

they turn the monitor for you two to look at, pointing around

“there they are, we have a baby boy.”

seungmin is so taken aback, this all is so .. unreal for him

he’s ready to get the disc with ur ultrasound footage n the heartbeat but also the ultrasound photos 🥺 he’s so in love with your baby boy

u two are just sitting in the office after, ur wiping off ur belly n he’s just like

“i’m in love with you. you and our son — i know, we agreed to co-parenting and no feelings but,” his voice is so strained n he’s just so fragile n so utterly raw, “i couldn’t help it.”

ur fact at first is just frozen and slightly shocked

then ur like 😮🥺😣

“no, cause i was thinking the same exact thing.”

that seals the deal for u two pretty much, ur both emotional wrecks in the exam room

theres the boyfriend and girlfriend dynamic now — seungmin and you sleeping cuddled together

it wasn’t like you two didn’t cuddle before,, but it would usually end up with seungmin silently creeping out of bed or you softly removing his arm or you leaving him gently

u rely on him more, the final trimester hard on you and ur so exhausted and hurting

u two getting the nursery ready together which actually consists of u sitting down rather than actually doing anything

though u will have to teach this boy how to put away bibs and fold baby clothes

u two are young and u both have a lot of explaining to do to your own families, but they are supportive

they r more than happy to teach u two about children and giving tips on these things

blue nursery with lil teddy bears around and its just the cutest, props to room designer seungmin 🤓

baby boy is so stubborn, you’re past your due date and you both want him out

you two try a shit ton of things

name it all: pineapple, spicy foods, raspberry tea, daily walks around the block, literally everything

everything except for the obvious that had been recommended by your obgyn

sex.

both of you two hadn’t really explored in the topic of sex or anything of the sort, it was slightly awkward

you’re five days overdue now, which now you couldn’t even care

“please..! they said it works, even our ob said so!”

he is so cautious about this, but begrudgingly decides to proceed with this idea

he’s so sweet 🥺 but maybe a little too sweet because next thing you know is that two short hours later ur water breaks and u are in labor!!!!

both of you are vv nervous

his hyungs are right there to calm him down, asking you if ur okay and if u need anything

they rly adore their lil minnies baby mama & their lil nephew

seungmin is big daddy deffo

he’s so attached to u 🥺 it hurts to see u in so much pain and he can’t do much to take it away, but he will kiss ur forehead and wipe ur tears away

he personally finds u so angelic as u are quite literally coated in sweat and nearly breaking his hand

it’s finally over, you and seungmin both turning to the tiny baby that just came into the world, both of u crying while laughing at the beet red baby

theres your little baby boy in your arms, squirming at the new coldness and trying to move around in the blanket

all of the boys come in, excited to meet the baby

in amazement you made this adorable, small baby after one night

this experience was everything and more to you both, so glad you weren’t as careful one night and now had the greatest gift given to you: your small son who slept soundly in your arms

©️ maysdiors 2020 :: all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[mammons-tax-returns]

How would Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Diavolo react to a male MC who wears skirts (because *chants* men in skirts, it’s masculine af) on the daily? bonus if the MC wears black nail polish!

REACTING TO MC THAT WEARS SKIRTS

LOVE THIS PROMPT 🙏

During this I imagined 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻TANGO DANCER SOLOMON and thats going into my art idea list

masterlist

✖️MALE MC✖️

Not unlike all the other boys, Lucifer is willing to risk it all as soon as he sees it.

His favorite cut of skirt is the classic a-line ones, both modest and not.

A CLOSE second goes to wrap skirts.

This is a SFW blog so I will not be going into any detail at this time ✨

Literally loses his breath everytime he sees MC, and it surprises him.

If MC isn’t already wearing the RAD skirt, he’s already offering to get him a set. Almost too eagerly?

When MC decides to not wear a skirt one day, he tries not to make it too obvious, but he’s simply curious as to why is all. Maybe a tad bit let down.

MC insisted one time that Lucifer painted his nails for him, and...

“Well, normally Asmo is the one doing that for all of us...”

“But Lucifer 🥺”

“Alright... Fine. But I’ll have to continue my paperwork in between each layer.

It’s just kinda cute to think that he would spend an incredibly unnecessary amount of time on each nail, trying to perfectly lay down the polish. Occasionally, his tongue will poke out because of his concentration.

There’s some slip ups here and there, but mentioning them will only get him flustered.

I don’t use this word lightlySIMP SIMP SIMP

He thinks he loves MC in every skirt imaginable just as equally as the last (which, he actually might) but deep down he can’t deny that a mini skirt just hits different.

The first time he saw MC wearing a mini skirt, mammon’s initial reaction was to cover him up before anyone could see him.

However, he failed to realize that he was actually the last of the brothers to see him, since he woke up late.

But that’s just what being the avatar of greed does to you. You just want to keep what’s yours, no matter what.

But considering his jacket isn’t as big as Lucifer’s or Solomon’s, he ended up just holding it up against MC’s lower half and stood in front of him.

It took the coaxing of MC and the snark comments of his siblings to make Mammon finally allow MC to walk around freely.

Looking back on it, Mammon most certainly understands why even Asmo had called him clingy.

But even now, he can’t help but hold MC a little bit closer in public when so many demons are staring at him! It just feels wrong to allow them to do that.

Cut him some slack, he thinks MC looks amazing, and he trusts him, but they’re literally in hell surrounded by demons. He just wants to keep his boy safe <33

Levi doesn’t even realize what MC’s wearing at first.

In fact, he doesn’t realize even after their first FEW encounters.

He only notices because while Mammon was ranting to him and Satan about money, he brings up MC and his “stupid and cute but also dumb skirts”

Levi is baffled that he’s the only one that hasn’t noticed it. So, the next time he walks by MC’s room, he contemplates stopping by to talk. Right... Socialize. That.

While Levi is stuck in his thoughts, MC opens the door, presumably ready to go out to a party with Mammon and Asmo.

*fish man short circuits*

MC looks...! S-so cute....!

- thinks the third born otaku.

Because I’m big on fashion, I can kind of picture an exact skirt I feel would apply to him. Let your mind run free but I imagine a semi-sheer maxi skirt with water-like embellishments uwu

But don’t get me wrong, Levi literally loves seeing MC in skirts so anything will get him like 😳 yall know how he is

Actually starts to get more interested in feminine fashion because of MC. And one day, he purchases a long black skirt from Akuzon.

He saw a popular cosplayer wearing one, and so he makes that his excuse.

No one even realizes the change except for Asmo, who gushes over the new look, even if it barely changed. MC also notices, but only compliments him/brings it up when they’re alone so Levi doesn’t overheat.

I was this close to typing “Satan is a man of beauty and FASHION” can you believe that

OKAY ENOUGH SATAN SLANDER

Satan... He can recognize when someone else looks ridiculous.

But he knows for a FACT. That MC very likely pulls off a skirt better than anyone he’s seen before.

Call him biased, but he sincerely loves it on MC specifically.

He likes the puffier skirts because they’re ADORBS, but for a more casual look, there’s this one asymmetrical skirt in particular that makes MC look so handsome to him.

He has no idea why men don’t wear skirts more often! Surely MC isn’t the only one that can do it!

Oh. Right. Gender norms 😪🤚🏼

Satan feels his anger crawl up his skin when he watches MC get ridiculed. And just for something he simply enjoys wearing! The nerve of demons.

He advances to “de-escalate” the situation in the most “avatar of wrath” way possible, but when he sees MC’s slumped shoulders walking away from him, he feels more inclined to follow and comfort him.

Satan gives an icy glare to the irrelevant demons, taking note of their faces, and goes after MC.

He doesn’t immediately bring up the situation, instead opting to go out on a spontaneous date to a nice café or a shopping district. Anything to distract from the situation subtly.

If his plan works out, splendid. Anything to make light of situation without even addressing it for even a day is good.

If the shopping and food doesn’t quite bring MC’s smile to his eyes, Satan will just have to be forward with his feelings for once.

“MC. I’m not entirely sure how I can get it through to you, but you shouldn’t be worrying about what some moronic, low-level demons think of you or your clothes. Much less what they say. Just be you, and make them suffer ten times worse.”

MC relishes in his words, even if the last bit sounded more like a threat than anything.

The last thing Satan would ever do is let MC even hesitate wearing an outfit that he would have had no trouble throwing on any other day because of someone else.

Asmo screams (in a happy way)

“No, Mammon! You’re wrong. MC is NOT my personal dress-up doll! He’s my model.”

Trying to break the stigma around Asmo’s “shallow” personality, let’s get the obvious things out of the way.

He and MC shop together pretty much every other day. It’s almost concerning. And nail appointments are, of course, regular.

NOW THAT THAT’S OVER,

Yes yes, Asmo loves the skirts and wonderfully glossy black nails, but there’s still such a massive divide between him and MC. Not physically, or even relationship-wise.

He’s never met someone like MC, who is so fashion-heavy and just the right amount of self-centered.

He thinks its the fact that they’re a human and demon. But he’s seen firsthand that the line between what makes a demon so different from a human is very thin. Solomon is an example of that.

But he realizes it’s just MC. He’s simply dressing for himself and himself only.

Asmo loves himself, there’s no doubt. And it’s nice to go out and dress fancy for others. He couldn’t dream of another lifestyle.

But he has to admit that what MC is doing is working for him. He comes off as a charming sort of man when he ignores the negative comments made about his clothes.

He knows that people in both Devildom and the human realm are a little sensitive when it comes to men in skirts. And the fact that MC continues to wear them is beautiful in and of itself.

This got kind of deep out of nowhere and i apologize but Asmo deserves to be seen for more than he’s constantly portrayed as 😞

Diavolo isn’t really thrown off that much by it at first, but as time passes, he starts to understand the appeal of skirt-wearing MC.

PENCIL SKIRT LOVER 🚨🔊PENCIL SKIRT LOVER🚨🚨🚨🔊🔊🔔🗯

Barbatos has to remind him that it’s rude to stare, but he finds it almost entertaining how whipped they BOTH are for MC.

Like Asmo, he actually loves bringing him out to shop!

The only difference between the two experiences is that Diavolo has no fucking idea what he’s doing when he picks out clothes for him.

Which leads to some pretty funny/terrible clothing combinations.

No, Diavolo, MC will not be wearing a flannel top with a camouflage hi-low skirt. Put those plaid socks away.

He’s confused and even a little sad when MC continues to turn down his ideas, but he figures that he should turn this into a learning opportunity.

So he lets MC grab whatever he wants, and patiently waits for him to finish up in the fitting rooms.

The store clerk is shitting her pants at the sight of the literal future ruler of Devildom hyping MC up with the energy of a puppy retriever.

Barbatos does an amazing job pretending like this doesn’t affect him.

He’s a classy man, he just internally loses it when he sees MC in any fancy skirt, really. From silky gold ruffles to a victorian-esc vibe, he’s obsessed.

So when Diavolo makes arrangements for an event/ball, Barbatos makes sure to, at the very least, offer to help MC get ready at the castle. He may not be the most fashion-centric but being able to spend time with MC in an extravagant get up is enough to make a demon butler interested.

Most of the time he’s disappointed because in between the seven brothers, he’d be lucky to be able to see MC at all because of how jealous they can all get.

I can imagine that even Diavolo doesn’t get to hear what Barbatos has to say about MC and his ability to make him weak at the knees.

But all it takes is Diavolo prompting, “MC’s outfit tonight... It was a sight for sore eyes, correct?”

Then, Barbatos lets a compliment or two slip out.

I can also imagine MC wearing a slightly short snd flowy skirt, and some rather disgusting demons waiting for it to get picked up by the wind, only for Barbatos to already be there, discreetly holding the fabric down and shooting them an intensely calm smile

Barbatos will always be one step ahead of creeps.

👀..

sneaky boy is sneaky.. especially with the constant glances he gives MC.

Solomon’s favorite type of skirt to see on MC is DEFINITELY pleated. No other option.

Unlike Lucifer, if MC isn’t wearing a skirt, he makes it clear that he wishes he would’ve.

It’s in a playful manner, though! Don’t worry.

“No skirt today? Bummer. That’s fine though, I can’t expect myself to feel attracted any less.”

I imagine MC wearing a flowy skirt to some sort of event at the demon lord’s castle, and he uses his magic to make it temporarily sparkle or shine.

This mf flashy and wants EVERYONE to know that MC is dancing with HIM and no one else.

But if you ask him about it, what? What’re you talking about? Lights?? Emitting from your skirt??? While we were dancing ?¿ Crazy talk. I would never do such a thing.,.

As childish as it is, he loves to see the way it flows when MC twirls or turns.

Not in a weird way, either. It’s just beautiful to him.

So, not to be cheesy (which he WITHOUT A DOUBT is.) but he’ll occasionally just spin MC by his hand throughout the day, then catch/dip him by the waist.