#it's really not too difficult to do a square or two a day

[ellecdc]

girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)

May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"

they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day

3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?

you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening

CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])

Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk. 

“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.

While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts. 

But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.” 

That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though. 

Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class. 

And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.

You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.

Couldn’t be you, however.

No.

You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.

Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two. 

You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat. 

You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you. 

Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was  goats that did it for you.

And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?

But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom. 

Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes? 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you. 

You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too? 

Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.

But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.

And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.

Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him? 

Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?

Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.

No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.

So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.

You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point. 

You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you. 

Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.

“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.

“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows. 

“Says who?”

Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”

You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement. 

He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”

You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”

“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”

“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far). 

“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”

The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.

“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you. 

“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if  he had just handed you a delicate china dish. 

His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour. 

“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench. 

You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.

“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy. 

Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.

[magniloquent-raven]

Day 3: Missing Moments

a little something for @bucktommypositivityweek 💜 tommy POV after their first date + buck calling about meeting for coffee

**

Tommy's not moping. He doesn't mope. Especially not over a relationship that wasn't even a relationship yet. It was one date. Arguably less. Half a date with a guy he's hung out with—if he's counting very generously—a grand total of four times.

A blip, as far as relationships go. He has more history with that guy he used to trade semi-frequent blowjobs with who's saved in his phone as Nose Ring.

...Come to think of it, he should delete that guy's number. They haven't spoken in years. He's pretty sure the last text in their message history is—yup. Dick pic. From Nose Ring. They'd gone six months without contact, then he sent a picture of his penis and nothing else. Tommy couldn't find it in himself to be even vaguely interested, and there's been no communication since.

And that's really that's the problem, isn't it. His dating history is riddled with guys like that. Dead-end hookups and bad dates with people he didn't click with no matter how much he tried to force it. And people who just...didn't care enough. Then Evan...

Alright, he's moping a little bit. He's only human.

He's been laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much since he got home. It's not late enough that he's tired, really, but he's also exhausted. In a soul-deep sort of way.

It was nice. He had a nice time, sitting across from Evan, letting him stutter his way through all the usual first date talking points like he was reading them off a list in his head. It was cute, how seriously he took it, how he'd pause and smile and get that soft look in his eye when he was listening to Tommy talk.

It would have been so easy to be greedy and keep spending time basking in that warmth he seems to radiate. Evan was clearly willing to push himself way past his comfort zone, but. Tommy wasn't. Isn't. His stomach twists just thinking about it.

But maybe he's being selfish either way. He wants more than Evan can give him, so he's pulling away completely, retreating before he can get too deep into planning a future Evan isn't ready for.

He sighs, feeling around next to his pillow until his fingers close around his phone.

Maybe Evan will reach out again. Some day. Eventually. Once he's more at ease with himself. Or maybe Tommy already ruined what could have been before it even started. Probably safer to just assume the latter. Restrict himself to hoping they can still be friends after this.

He scrolls aimlessly through his contacts. There's quite a few numbers in there that he should delete. Names he's not sure he recognizes anymore. Ones he wishes he could forget.

For some godforsaken reason he still has Sam Westbrook in here. Just reading the name puts a pit in his stomach. He doesn't remember everything about the three horrible months they spent together, it's mostly just flashes. The taste of too much beer on his tongue, saturated and clumsy in his mouth. A sharp smile and a sharper suit, always pressed and starched and better-than-you.

Tommy was newly out and far too hard on himself about how difficult it was. Guys like Sam seemed to sniff that out, made his personal shame all about them. It didn't always work, but Sam was particularly good at it. He always left Tommy feeling gutted and guilty and far too willing to do whatever it took to make it up to him the next time they saw each other. It's not a relationship he likes to think about.

But it's a reminder that he did the right thing tonight.

And...

Maybe he'll call Evan. Not yet, not right away. Tommy needs time to square away his own messy feelings, but maybe in a couple weeks. Just to let Even know he's. Around. If he needs someone to talk to about all this.

They can be friends. He'll make it work.

He deletes Sam's number, and tosses his phone aside.

Two weeks.

—

It's only two days later when his phone rings, Evan Buckley written across his screen in big white letters. He stares at it through five long buzzes while his heartbeat pounds in his ears.

This...wasn't the plan. And to make matters worse, he's at work. He catches one of his coworkers side-eyeing him curiously, and that pretty much guarantees he'll have at least three people ask him what was up with the phone call before his shift it over.

Well. He should at least give them something to gossip about. A guy called me and I watched it go to voicemail isn't much of a story.

He swipes to answer, before he can make himself any more nervous.

"Hey."

"Tommy! Hey!" Evan's voice crackles a little through the phone with a surprised intake of breath, like he wasn't the one who called in the first place. The corner of Tommy's mouth twitches. "H-how's it going?"

Tommy spent four hours yesterday taking apart his neighbours' lawn mower because he'd convinced the man it was making a weird noise and he could fix it. There was nothing wrong with it, but he checked every inch anyways, and put it back together well-oiled and exactly as pristine as it was before. That morning he'd gone grocery shopping with a paper list and his phone at home so he'd stop obsessively combing through all his files trying to find things to delete.

So, he's having a very normal week, clearly.

"Good," he says instead of explaining any of that. "I'm actually at work right now, so—"

"Oh crap, I forgot you were working today, sorry. I—I can call back later if you're busy."

"No, it's okay. Slow day so far." He pauses. "One might even say qui—"

"Ah, don't jinx it!"

Tommy snickers. Apparently Eddie wasn't exaggerating. He's known a lot of superstitious people, but most of them didn't take it this seriously. Evan sounded less panicked about flying directly into an actual hurricane. "Right, the dreaded Q-Word."

"Did you hear about the power lines that fell on our engine?!"

"Yes." He'd seen the pictures too. Pretty much everyone had, the 133 were sending them around all day after they took that call.

"And then some guy stole it later that same day, y'know. It was a terrible shift."

He'd heard about that too, but not that it was the same station. Damn. "Alright, alright. No tempting fate."

"Well. Good. Too many things can go wrong with helicopters."

Tommy squints up at the rafters, feeling unbearably fond. Like he's full of something warm and syrupy and too big for his chest, like he's spilling sunlight between his ribs.

He should ask why Evan called. Polite check-in after their date ended so abruptly? Another storm he needs Tommy to fly into? Metaphorical or otherwise. Hopefully it won't involve stealing anything else. They got way too lucky the first time for Tommy to trust it working out again, and he kind of likes his job.

He slips his free hand into his pocket. "How are you doing, Evan?"

"Oh." He lets out a soft exhale that comes through as quiet static. "I, uh. Good, actually. B-better, um. Listen, are you free tomorrow?"

Tommy stops breathing, lungs seizing for a long moment before he very carefully reminds himself how to use them. "Yes."

"I wanted to. Talk. To you. Um. In person, preferably."

This really wasn't the plan.

But it's fine. It's more than fine. It's...

He'll just have to deal with wanting to kiss the living daylights out of someone who's off-limits, it's not like he's never had to do that before. If Evan needs something from him he's not about to say no, he just didn't expect it to happen so soon, if it happened at all.

"I, uh, would've just popped by your house unannounced, but I thought this might be more polite," he continues, a teasing lilt in his voice. Tommy purses his lips against the smile threatening to overtake his face. "Also, I don't know where you live."

"You could've asked Eddie."

"Oh, so you're saying I should have ambushed you then?"

"No, that's very rude. Who does that."

Evan's delighted laugh is bright and infectious, and has him grinning at his feet, sunlight spreading down to the tips of his fingers.

"So, coffee? Tomorrow?"

"Alright."

"Cool. Awesome. I'll text you the details?"

"Cool," he echoes, purposefully deadpan. "Awesome."

He can hear the smile in Evan's voice when he pretends to be offended by the mocking. It's there all through their goodbye too, and Tommy finds himself coiled up around his anticipation at the thought of seeing that smile again.

It's going to be a long 18 hours. But it's worth the wait.

[meanbossart]

Oh boy, VaM is kind of a trial and error experience LOL I couldn't really show you how to use the interface and stuff without a whole video or something, but it's not THAT difficult to get a hang of if you just give yourself a day or two to play around, not to mention the number of tutorials you find out there. Luckily, if you only want to use it as a reference software that makes the process far easier (to this day I have no idea how to animate on that thing, since that's not what I use it for)

As for how I use it, it's pretty self explanatory - if there's a complicated pose I want to draw but I'm either having trouble with it, or just want to double-check angles/anatomy, I will use it as a resource! I use for most of my "proper" pieces (y'know, the nicer looking ones) and every once in a while for my silly comics if I'm having trouble with a pose.

Lets use this drawing for example (the character on top of DU drow belongs to @namespara )

I don't draw a lot of mud-wrestling (shocking, I know) but I had an idea of the kind of pose I wanted them to be in. So the very first thing I did was make a rough sketch of what I was envisioning:

I often do a rough sketch first, even If I know I'm going to be pulling the program up because A) It's less tedious than adjusting the models over and over again until I pick a pose and B) because sometimes I'll decide I don't need the reference, after all, and so that's 30 minutes I'll have spared myself of playing around on the software.

Now, this is a pretty complicated pose! It's in a weird angle and the bodies are making contact in ways I'm not used to depicting, so I did choose to whip out VaM for this one. I went into the program and after some messing around, I flopped my little dolls together like this:

Now something really cool about VaM is that you can completely customize your models, and if you have the patience, I would definitely encourage you to do so! Obviously, you don't have to make picture perfect replicas of every single character you have, but as you can see here I have made a DU drow "decoy" to help me better understand some of his features when I draw him: he has a strong brow, a short nose, a square jawline - these are all going to look a very specific way from certain angles, and I might not always be sure of how to draw it right! So it's useful to have models that bear SOME semblance to the character so you can better understand how different viewpoints will affect their bone structure and mass.

Also thank fucking god for the elf-ear slider. Figuring out how to draw those shits from certain angles was a huge pain in the ass when I started drawing DnD races.

So, with the reference in hand, I go over the sketch again:

Now you may notice that I don't stick to the reference 100%. There's three reasons for this:

posing on VaM is tedious as hell. You can get something incredibly natural looking and picture-perfect to reference from if you wish, but it's going to take you hours to do. So, for the most part I just slap guys together until the results are "close enough" and use that.

In my opinion, you should always aim to ENHANCE your reference material, not replicate it exactly!

While VaM is a PRETTY DANG GOOD source of anatomical reference, it isn't perfect, I often supplement it with further reference from real life resources or make tweaks based on my own knowledge where I catch it falling short (and, antithetical to what I just said, I sometimes fuck the anatomy up further on purpose if I think it looks better that way LOL it's all jazz baby).

Then lines, color, yada yada. I don't have a tutorial on that and I don't think I could make one, because my process is chaotic as hell, but I do at times use Virt-a-mate as loose reference for lighting too when coloring - waaaaayyyy less so however, because that process is even more tedious and I feel like I often get better results by just winging it. It is a feature of the program though, and I'm sure it would be helpful for someone who has a difficult time visualizing lights and shadows. I only started using this program a few months ago, so I happened to already have a pretty good understanding of that kind of thing and just don't personally feel like I get much out of that particular mechanic.

Here's a few other examples of pieces that I made reference for (WARNING: Suggestive)

Now, for the question many of you may want to ask:

"Can I trace this junk?"

And to that, I say: Buddy, you can do whatever the hell you want with the reference material you created.

However,

If your goal is to learn and improve your art, and to recreate realistic proportions and anatomy from memory, tracing won't help you.

Developing your own style, your muscle memory, and personal technique will all be hindered by choosing to trace instead of drawing from observation, so I would encourage against it. Hell - even when tracing is employed as a technique, it's usually by high-skill realism & concept artists who are looking to either cut some corners, save time, or just double-check their own proportions in order to improve further - if you try tracing as a beginner, you will most definitely find the result to still look stiff and "off".

So trust me, there is so much more to be gained from drawing from observation. Make note of tangents, compare proportions, use all the elements of the picture to dictate where and how things should go - it will be a far more rewarding experience.

Hopefully this has been helpful! VaM is a really cheap program (you get it on the guys' patreon for I think 8 dollars, just google it!) and it's definitely been worth my money as an artist since I found it. Learning to use it can be a little intimidating at first glance, but as I said above you only really need a day plus one or two tutorials to get a hang of the interface.

A fair warning though, IT IS A SOFTWARE MADE FOR VIRTUAL SEX/ADULT ANIMATION So when looking it up expect to see a some spicy content.

[oneforthemunny]

yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.

this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!

contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.

word count: 3.5k+

“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear. 

There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core. 

“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago. 

“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong. 

“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-” 

“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?” 

“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue. 

“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with. 

“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”

“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”

“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room. 

“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request. 

“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded. 

“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-” 

“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-” 

“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?” 

The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother. 

Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you. 

You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway. 

“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.” 

“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat. 

Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school. 

As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why. 

“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass. 

Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?” 

“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?”  Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window. 

You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow. 

“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house. 

“No, she’s not gonna puke-” 

“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-” 

“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.” 

“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window. 

“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window. 

“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-” 

“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.” 

“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?” 

“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.” 

“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-” 

“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.” 

“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut. 

“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly. 

“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?” 

“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.” 

“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you. 

You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road. 

“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once. 

Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street. 

“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.” 

“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly. 

“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel. 

“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered. 

“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side. 

“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-” 

“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone. 

“I-I,-” 

“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.” 

You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent. 

“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle. 

“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump. 

“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel. 

He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully. 

“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.” 

“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping. 

“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison. 

“I just came and-and got them-” 

“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod. 

“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-” 

“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat. 

“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe. 

The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch. 

You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough. 

“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance. 

“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.” 

“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins. 

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got  home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night. 

Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.” 

You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.” 

Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.” 

You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining. 

The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table. 

“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.

Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe. 

“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook. 

You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.” 

You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window. 

“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body. 

“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure. 

“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch. 

“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water. 

“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous? 

“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him. 

A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.” 

“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.” 

Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings. 

“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly. 

Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.” 

You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort. 

“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully. 

“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully. 

Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying. 

Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him. 

“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?” 

“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest. 

“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?

“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement. 

“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper. 

“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine. 

You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble. 

Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time. 

"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors. 

The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After All This Time

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Car trouble puts you and your boss in an awkward position, especially when you two have so much history together.

Squares Filled: car trouble (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a straight shot from your house to your job. Instead of taking the main roads and confronting traffic, you take the back roads which takes an extra ten minutes, but you make up for that with your speed. The windows are down, your hair is blowing in the wind, and your music is on full blast. You pass the halfway point when the thermostat goes from the neutral position to the big bolded H. Smoke immediately starters pouring out of the engine, and you slam on your breaks to prevent the car from blowing up.

“Shit! No, please don’t do this to me,” you beg to no one.

You get out of the car and pull your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your face while you inspect the damage. You pull the hood up and a cloud of smoke bellows in your face. You quickly turn and cough violently.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening now,” you gasp. “Not today of all days.”

You don’t have time to wait for an Uber or Triple A, so the only other thing you can do is walk to work… in heels… on a dirt road. The time it will take to walk to work will be the same time or more waiting for an Uber or Triple A. Not only are you going to be late for work but you’ll have to apologize to your boss about it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you but your boss just so happens to be your high school boyfriend.

Steve was the perfect boyfriend. He treated you with respect, didn’t undermine your values, supported you through everything, and loved you unconditionally. Everyone in school thought you two would be together forever and there was a point where you thought that, too. Right before graduation, you got an incredible opportunity to go to a different country and do a study abroad in Russia.

Steve got into Harvard for business and wanted you to go with him. You two applied for Harvard and you both got in, but you really wanted to go to Russia to study for a semester. To spare the sad details, you two broke up. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done because you were still in love with him.

After coming back to the States, he was already in another relationship with someone. You never thought your story would end the way it did but you forced yourself to move on. For years, you thought you did. You had a few boyfriends but none of them had an impact the way Steve did.

Then one day, you got an amazing offer to work for Captain Industries as a sales director for the entire sales department. One of the job duties as a sales director is to report everything to the CEO, and luck had it that Steve was the CEO. You often had meetings with the different department directors who touch base with Steve so he knows what’s going on with his company.

The first day on the job, you and Steve locked eyes in the first meeting of the day. It had been years since you two have spoken much less seen each other, so you didn't want to make a big deal in front of everyone. You thought he would have said something after the meeting but he left like you didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how can someone forget the person who was their first for everything--first kiss, first date, first time you two held hands, first time you had sex, and the first time you ever gave anyone a promise ring. He was the love of your life but maybe you weren't his as much as he was yours.

When you finally reach work, you immediately head to the bathroom to fix yourself up. You must look like a sweaty mess, and your reflection confirms it. Despite the headache forming from how high your ponytail is, you keep your hair up. If you were to put it down, you’ll look worse. You look at the time and curse when you realize just how late you are for your morning meeting.

Forty-five fucking minutes. Steve is going to chew your ass out. You leave the bathroom and interrupt the morning meeting with an embarrassed look on your face. Everyone turns to look at you including Steve. He looks at your hair before locking eyes with you. Time seems to slow down the longer he looks into your eyes but you break eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble,” you mutter.

You quickly take a seat, and the director of marketing slides her notes over to you. You look at her gratefully and look over the notes just as the meeting resumes.

“As I was saying,” Steve says, peeling his eyes from you, “statistics show a slight decline in demand for products. Frank, have you hired two more manufacturing engineers?”

“Yes, we’re training them right now. We have been working hard creating more product.”

“Good. Y/N, how is your department doing?”

You snap your head up to look at Steve and sit up a bit straighter.

“We lost Marissa since she went on maternity leave but we won’t let that stop us from not picking up the slack. Her duties have been spread out throughout the different managers to give to their employees. I have seen a rise in sales by ten percent.”

“Make it twenty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meetings only last an hour since Steve is so busy so the next fifteen minutes go by easily. Jules lets you keep her notes to look over and copy if needed. Most people filter out immediately but you’re one of the last ones in so you can apologize to Steve directly.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry for being late. My car stalled on the side of the road on the way to work. I had to walk the entire way here.”

“I need your reports on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He must not be over your breakup because this isn’t the Steve you knew. You gather your things and head to your office. You almost cry from how stressed you are because you still have to deal with your car. Not to mention your headache is getting worse and you don’t have a brush to fix your hair.

It takes all day to work on the reports for Steve so you’re one of the last ones in the office even though you still have two more hours until the end of the work day. You could leave since you’re salaried but you need to make up time for being late. You walk to his office and knock once on the door, entering when he gives you permission.

“I have the reports for you.” You walk over to his desk and place them there but you don’t leave just yet. “Again, I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It happens.” Steve looks up and sees you squeeze your eyes tightly from the headache you have. “Come here.”

Steve stands when you approach him, and he gently takes the elastic out of your hair. He threads all ten fingers into your hair and starts massaging the area, and you close your eyes in relief. You open your eyes and look at Steve to see him already looking at you, and he sees the question in your eyes.

“High ponytails give you headaches.”

You’re shocked he remembered that. You were on multiple sports teams in high school and instead of putting your hair in a ponytail like the rest of the girls, you put it in a tight bun at the base of your neck.

“You remembered,” you whisper.

“There’s a lot I still remember.” Steve takes his hands away but doesn’t step back from you. “Go to my personal conference room and take a nap on the couch. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Steve--”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go take a nap and then I’ll drive you home. I’ll pick you up and drive you home until your car is fixed.”

He must not be in a relationship if he’s offering to do this for you. You’re not sure how you feel about that--scratch that you do know how you feel but you’re not sure if he feels the same about it. You slowly walk to the door but pause before you can leave the room. You look at Steve who is already typing away on his computer.

“Now, Y/N,” he says without looking up.

You jump and immediately leave with a smile on your face. The time for you and Steve wasn’t right back then but there’s nothing stopping you from making it right now.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[13keithxpidge13]

Omega Pav wants to scent mark his pack every five seconds. He /needs/ them covered in his scent so they know he loves them and that he knows that they love him back. It's just a way for him to comfort himself while also to show his overflowing affection for all of his friends the only way he knows how; by being as physical as he possibly can with them.

Alpha Hobie takes to it with ease. He settles comfortably whenever Pav pulls him close and rubs their hands together, whether it's their wrists or necks, Hobie lets him do what he wants and reciprocates the affection with eagerness. Out of all the spiders, Pav is the closest with Hobie in terms of being able to show affection, Hobie has always been willing to receive it.

Beta Gwen takes a few tries to get her to really be more open to it. She nearly punches Pav square in the face completely on instinct when he gets too close without permission the first time. But, after a few attempts, she finally allows it and, ever since, she'll let him slip his hand into hers or hug her tightly and rub their glands together, scents mixing.

Omega Miles is the most difficult to get to come around. Despite how he may come across, he doesn't really take to physical affection like the rest of them do. After the events of The Spot, his inner Omega practically curls in on itself and hides itself away to protect itself from further harm; physically and emotionally. Miles and Gwen are awkward around each other for the longest time. He and Pav aren't much better because, well, they don't really know each other. But, Pav would like to know him more, if Miles would let him. Hobie seems to be the only one Miles allows himself to get closer. Well, perhaps it's because Hobie forces himself past Miles barriers and drapes himself over his back or hugs him from the side. But, Pav doesn't want to overstep his boundaries so he plays it safe.

He'll gently graze their fingers together or he'll bump shoulders with Miles after a job well done. When they have movie nights, Pav will stay close to Miles and lean his head on his arm and nuzzle against him. Miles slowly starts accepting more and more from Pav until finally, he lets Pav rub the glands on their necks together, intertwining their scents and making their inner omegas coo and rumble with satisfaction.

When Hobie gets wind, he immediately rushes over to Miles as soon as they are each other again and drags Miles into his arms so he can rumble and nose at the scent glands on his neck. Miles squeals and Hobie chuckles and playfully scents him as the Omega swats him away and rubs at his marked throat.

"You guys are fucking /insatiable/," Miles curses and Pav giggles, draping himself over his back but Miles allows it so it's safe to say he isn't actually upset.

"We just loooove you," Pav coos. "Let us love you!"

"Ain't that bloody right," Hobie says and comes up right in front of Miles so both he and Pav are hugging him from either side. "Let us love ya', yeah? Our lil' Brooklyn-baby."

Miles grumbles but doesn't protest and lets them do what they please. He comes home smelling obnoxiously like his two packmates and it takes /days/ for their scents to wash out...not that he was complaining.

The next time Gwen comes over, he walks over hesitantly and bumps their shoulders together. She turns to look at him, confused but hope burns brightly in her eyes and Miles turns away but opens his arms up to her and Gwen perks up.

She /slams/ into him and Miles immediately begins to purr with affection.

"I'm sorry," She sniffles, tears dribbling down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, Miles. Please believe me."

"I do," Miles tells her honestly. "I forgive you, Gwen."

And, for now, that's enough.

[forwhatiam]

Happy 28th! <3 Here's my favorite fics I read this month, organized from longest to shortest. Fics with a * before them found their way into my bookmarks!

*One More Time Again by orphan_account (E, 232.2k)

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

Shake Me Down by AGreatPerhaps12 (NR, 208.5k)

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

Half Agony, Half Hope by asphodelknox (E, 132k)

Harry's had enough of his shit year. Had enough of his shit ex and the fact that he graduated from university with no idea what to do next or what to do with the grief. Ed dares him to spend a month at the crumbling Tomlinson manor, and Harry goes cause what else do you do when your life's fallen apart?

It's not really haunted anyway... is it?

*a cycle of recycled revenge by brokenbeaks (E, 103.3k)

In the heat of summer, wreathed by pastures, rolling knolls, and thatched-roof cottages, Louis takes on a new job: caretaking for a recently blinded man named Harry. As it begins, what seems like a simple task turns into a quest that costs him every last bit of his pride and tolerance. Harry is, in practice, a two-legged curse. And Louis is just gonna have to put up with it.

Or: The one where Harry likes to infuriate Louis almost as much as he enjoys straddling his lap.

Face Your Fears by SadaVeniren (E, 92.2k)

Harry is a single father, pretending to be a beta after his alpha mated him and left him. He’s getting by just fine raising the twins when Louis walks into his bakery. Too bad him and Louis will never be a thing.

Gemma's Dad (Could Use a Guy Like Me) by lululawrence (NR, 82.9k)

The summer before Louis and Gemma's senior year of college was supposed to be their last big hurrah before they graduate college and become Real Adults in the workforce. They had it all planned and it was going to be filled with mornings skateboarding, afternoons at the pool, and evenings hanging out with as many of the neighborhood kids they grew up with as they can.

Of course, Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

As the summer goes on, the adventures and day to day happenings allow Harry and Louis to spend a lot more time together than either of them ever anticipated and Louis finds it more difficult to keep his growing feelings in check than he ever thought it would be. After all, there wasn't a chance that Harry would ever be interested in Louis... right?

Here's Your Perfect by brightgolden (E, 54.1k)

In the world where mates are assigned to everyone and deposited to their door when an agreeable partner is found for them, Alpha Louis has recently been given his. However, he is nothing like the type of alpha that the omega academy prepares Harry for.

The Space Between by alltheselights (E, 39.9k)

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

*everything of mine is yours by blueskiesrry (E, 33k)

With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

No Surprises by louislittletomlintum (E, 21.8k)

An office AU where Louis is a loveable brat and Harry is working himself out.

your rainbow will come smiling through by hazkaban (T, 17k)

When Harry isn't working at his stepfather's cafe, he's trying to make swim captain and trying to finish all his coursework on time. When he's not doing any of those things, he's talking to the boy he met on the Oxford Hopefuls subreddit. When they decide to meet, he's elated. He finally gets the chance to meet the boy he's been crushing on! When the day comes to meet his prince, he learns that his online crush is none other than Louis Tomlinson, captain of the football team and friend of his terrible stepbrothers. Now Harry has to decide whether telling Louis the truth is the right choice or if it's better to just let sleeping dogs lie.

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (NR, 11.2k)

The one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Normal Thing by sweetlarrybaby (E, 4.2k)

"I don't even know your name," Harry said, puffing difficult breaths in and out.

"Already at the final wishes, are we?" The beautiful man laughed. And, how could he laugh in such situation? They were about to die. The plane was about to crash and it was going to set itself on fire before they'd even hit the ground, and every last one of them would be dead. "I'm Louis, there you go. All your wishes are granted before your imminent death."

Peculiar Ugly Duckling by LadyLondonderry (GA, 3.7k)

Loowee is a fish.

Loowee is a fish born to a family of FOUS fish. You’ve heard of FOUS fish, haven’t you, reader? Yes, of course you have. Fish Of Unusual Size Fish, of course.

(There’s no need to tack the word fish onto the end of FOUS like that, but they simply do. It’s like having an ATM machine).

FOUS fish are all quite big fish, unusually large in size compared to the average fish of the ocean.

Loowee the FOUS fish hates being big.

[five-hxrgreeves]

im dYIIIINGGGG with the adam warlock x quill sister! when he calls her 'little quill'??? with that accent of his??? so soft and husky??? im screaming at my phone dude aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa i need part iii right freaking now!!!

PAIRING: adam warlock & fem! quill’s sister!reader

POWERS: adapted from D.C.'s Stargirl, although in this instance, the powers are a part of you and the staff just helps you use them.

WC: 1.9k (woo a shorter one this time!) 

SUMMARY: your first meeting with Adam wasn't one that indicated that you'd become friends anytime soon. Your second meeting. . . wasn't great either. But, somewhere along the line, you would develop a soft spot for the curious man-child.

WARNINGS: slight gotg three spoilers, badly written original fight scene, possibly ooc canon!guardians.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: OMG!!! This is my first-ever inbox message- thank you, anon! You made my day with this <3 I love Adam's/Will's accent; I definitely hope that we get to see (and hear) more of him in other Marvel movies. As requested, here's part three (even if it's technically part zero, lol.) I do take requests if anyone wants to send me stuff! (I just won't write smut, sorry!)

I hope you guys enjoy this part, although I'm not very confident about it since I'm terrible at writing fight scenes. It's hard enough for me to imagine original content (like the other two parts) but scenes where people move around a lot without the movie itself to rely on are very difficult for me because my mind doesn't think in pictures, but in words and I don't know how to describe fighting. I'm sorry if this isn't as good as the other parts. 😭

And on a side note, the 'no shit, Captain Sherlock' is another reference to space people messing up Terran lingo :)

Part 1 , Part 2

You were admittedly not in the best mood when you first (officially) met Adam. Peter and Mantis had left only days ago, leaving you to sort out your feelings alone. You were currently in the training room, fueling your sadness into anger at their abandonment. You often used your powers to aid you while you were fighting, but they weren’t much use during everyday life— unless you wanted to fly. Now, however, they were very useful.

Brilliant blasts of golden light shot out from the staff that your hands gripped tightly. While your powers could be used without aid, the staff helped you control them; Ego had made it for you when you’d become old enough to serve as his protector. Although you were disgusted with the weapon’s origins, you couldn’t help but agree that it made your fighting much more effective.

Each of your blasts hit the targets squarely in the middle as you turned deftly to conquer the row. A scowl was prominent on your face as you pictured each of your targets as Peter’s or Mantis’ face. (While you would never really want to hurt them, of course, the sting of their desertion fueled your thoughts.) You were listening to a playlist by the Rage Against the Machine— which you had chosen solely because of the band’s name as it mirrored your feelings. The music that was blasting in your ears was so loud that, if someone had been standing next to you, they could have heard the lyrics as if they were wearing your headphones themselves.

As you moved up and down the line of targets, you were unaware of the audience of three that had entered the room. Groot, Rocket and Adam stopped by the entrance to watch you unleash your fury against whatever enemy you were envisioning. The new leader of the Guardians gestured to you. “There. See? I told you she’s nice.”

Adam hesitated, clearly uncertain. “She looks mad.”

“I am Groot,” Groot agreed.

“Shut up,” Rocket retorted, glaring slightly at the tree who was supposed to be helping his case. “She won’t hurt goldie. You’ve already seen her bad side, haven’t you? This is nuthin’.”

The golden boy had to admit that Rocket was right; he remembered only too well his first encounter with you as you’d jumped in to help your friends fight off his unexpected attack.

--

He’d just defeated the stupid tree-like thing and as it scuttled away like a demented spider, the faint sound of a whistle pierced through the air. An arrow shot out of nowhere, harmlessly bouncing off his skin and only annoying him more than anything else. He looked around sharply, but there didn’t seem to be anyone brave enough to fight him in the vicinity. “Hey! Who threw that?”

He scoffed when there was no answer, stalking towards where he’d last seen his target. But before he could get very far, a force came out of nowhere— this time much stronger than an errant arrow. It knocked him off his feet like a bullet and together they were sent flying through the town, which elicited more cries of fear from the citizens.

He landed harshly against a building that got in the way and debris fell on top of him from the force of the collision. Adam grunted irritably; this was the second time during this fight that his enemy thought that throwing him into a building would be enough to deter his attack— didn’t they ever learn? He stood and shook the dust off his clothes before he strode back out to the street to face this new opponent. Except— it wasn’t the same blue person from before.

The golden boy stared at the other person with disbelief, the only thing that he could come up with was: “you’re a girl!”

She scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, Captain Sherlock.” She twirled the staff in her hands expertly between her fingers before she set the butt down on the ground. It glowed softly as it lit up with her power, her face set. “Let’s do this thing.”

Adam had no qualms about fighting a girl, so they charged at each other without hesitation. He thought she’d be as easy to take down as her teammates but when they collided, she merely used her staff as a shield against his attack. They paced across the open space as they exchanged blows, the girl using her staff offensively and defensively interchangeably. As she flipped neatly out of the way of one of his advances, he began to see how evenly matched they were.

“You are stalling,” he realized. “If you just hand over your friend, we would not have to fight.”

The girl paused, flicking some of her hair out of her eyes. “Oh. Well, in that case—”

She charged at him again, her staff catching on his uniform. She followed him into the air and her swift kick to his stomach sent him tumbling away from her. It was then that he realized that she could fly— just like him— and that was what had powered her initial attack. In the time it took for him to recover from the spin, a blast of golden light was sent his way. Because of his more durable skin, though, the light only felt like volts of electricity rather than something that could do actual damage. The most effective part of her power was the blast itself, which he had to fight through to get closer to her.

Now that he knew where her power came from, he made to attack her staff in order to knock it out of her hands. She seemed to sense his plan— Adam figured most people she fought went this route— and she countered this by trying to fly above him to push him towards the ground. He responded by grabbing the staff in her hands directly while she was mid-swing. The girl was tiring slightly, her breath becoming shorter as the fight went on and she was now on the defensive.

She tried to yank her staff loose from his hold but as evenly matched as they were, he was still stronger. The girl then attempted to shake him off by lighting the staff up with her power. If he hadn’t been such a strong opponent, the golden light would have burned through his hands. As it was, the little volts were barely something that he registered. While he could have easily swung the staff to send her flying off the end and into the ground, he held back the true show of his strength as she didn’t seem to be as resilient as the two blue people or the tree.

Instead, he tried once more for the diplomatic route: “you have fought valiantly for your little friend. If you surrender him to me now I will leave your village in peace.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed with fury as she continued to fight to free her weapon. “Go to hell!”

Adam sighed, having partially expected that response. “Very well. Have it your way, then.”

He smoothly jerked the staff from her grasp and carelessly tossed it to send the weapon spiraling towards the ground. He turned back towards the girl to finish her off as he had her teammates, but he paused. She seemed to hang, suspended, in the air as time appeared to freeze around her. Her eyes widened and, for the first time since he’d encountered her, a look of fear appeared on her face.

Then, she dropped like a stone.

They were very high off the ground by this point and the fall would likely kill a normal being. He wasn’t sure if she would survive, so his reflexes kicked in before he could really think about what he was doing.

By now, the shock had worn off and she fell through the air, she reached up to him as he was the only person who could help her. Adam put on a spurt of speed to try and catch her but she was falling faster than he had anticipated. The girl slammed into the ground and lay still just as he landed next to her. He told himself that saving her wasn’t his mission, and her incapacitation only made obtaining his goal easier. His mother’s orders echoed in his mind, so against his instinct he turned away from her in pursuit of the squirrel.

--

You felt a tap on your shoulder, startling you. You whirled around with your staff in a defensive position only to be met with the sight of your teammates. With a sigh, you pulled out one earbud but didn’t pause your music.

“What?” you asked shortly.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, Little Quill. I’m ya superior now,” Rocket replied, unaffected by your attitude. “I wanted you to meet golden boy here.”

You gave Adam a once-over, ignoring how the sight of his. . . attractive features made your stomach curl pleasantly. “Yeah. We’ve met.”

The boy in question shifted uncomfortably, feeling once again ashamed of his previous actions. Before he could say anything, Rocket spoke again, adjusting the straps of his jumpsuit as he did so: “well, I ain’t great with humie ages, but I figured ya’d be about the same. I thought it might boost team morale to see ya two hangin’ out together or whatever humies your age do.”

While your first response was to dismiss the whole endeavor— you didn’t want to get close to someone else just to have them leave you, too— but a small, traitorous part of your mind whispered: he saved your brother. Another part chimed in: he’s not bad to look at.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “He can stay, but he better not get in my way. I’m not stopping my training because of him.”

“That’s the spirit, Little Quill,” your captain said, choosing to not acknowledge your reluctance. “I’ll leave ‘im in your hands. Let’s go, Groot.”

As you shoved the earbud back in your ear, you could faintly hear Adam’s protest: “wait! You’re not leaving me here, are you?”

While Rocket’s reply was drowned out by your music, the boy’s words hit you unexpectedly; it sounded just like your response to Peter’s and Mantis’ disinclination to stay with the Guardians. Some of your anger faded as you glanced at the boy who stood awkwardly in your periphery. Despite all of his strength and power, Adam looked a bit like a lost puppy and his expression made your features soften against your will. Fine. Whatever. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.

You took out an earbud again. “Well, don’t just stand there. I know you can fight, so let’s see you use those skills.”

At the reminder of your first encounter, he sent you a guilty look. As he stepped up next to you, he said quietly, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. For almost killing you.”

You patted him on the arm companionably. “Hey, no hard feelings. You’re not the first and you certainly won’t be the last, so just add your name to the list.”

All of the Guardians had forgiven him with surprising readiness and it seemed like you were no different— only, you were. His gaze stayed on the spot where your hand had touched him. There was a lingering warmth as if your hand was still there, the sensation sending tingles (not unlike the ones that he felt during your blasts of power) through him.

Taglist:

@repostingmyfavs , @trashpenguin

[dev1lm4n]

coward

pairings: jackson-era!joel miller x f!reader

summary: in which joel wanted to stake claim over you, but he's too much of a coward to do so. aka jealous emotionally pent-up joel

word count: 3.5k

warnings: suggestive, not explicit just mentions of sexual relationships

notes: this was ultimately cliché as shit but i NEED to write it

Clank. Clank.

Sunset has fallen upon the town just mere minutes ago. Gleeful chirping of the local birds were quickly replaced by a chorus of cicadas, loud clattering of metal cutleries, and scratchy scrapes against plates. There was a foreign atmosphere settling between tonight’s dinner participants and to be honest, it’s much weirder than you anticipated.

It’s foreboding; alike to those family dinners you’d attend to exchange bland pleasantries with cousins and nephews. The kind where you’d have to swerve from uncomfortable questions probing into your personal life, whether it’s your marital status or your paycheck. Except there wasn’t that much of a crowd tonight. Just you, your ‘date’, and Joel Miller.

Joel Miller was someone you couldn’t label properly.

You weren’t exaggerating in the slightest bit when it comes to your complex relationship with him, if you could even call what you had with him a relationship to begin with.

It’s just too messy and embarrassing. It’s like trying to pick apart a tangled up ball of yarn, hoping you’d figure out when things began and when it ended.

Has it even ended? The particular question had you mindlessly stabbing the roasted chicken you managed to cook up. It’s a little overcooked and mildly underseasoned, but it’s better than the alternative. Joel’s staple, which was heated up cans of Chef Boyardee’s Beefaroni, had always been reserved for those who’d acquired his unique tastes. You and Ellie were his number one frequenter when it comes to it.

Joel looked displeased by the pleasantries. His nose crinkled briefly, but he played along regardless. “I go on patrols most of the time, but I could fix things too here and there.”

“So.. Joel, right? What do you do ‘round Jackson?”

Jack managed to break up the everlasting silence with his low-register voice. You assumed that despite the initial awkwardness, he had at least enjoyed the food, considering the heaping glob of mashed potatoes he’s adding onto his plate.

“Oh. That’s nice. I’ve never gone on a patrol before,” Jack shared briefly, only to beam a shy smile towards you. He’s a cute boy you won’t lie. Maybe that’s why you scouted him off  the bar last week. “I take care of the horses with her.”

“Jack’s also from Texas, you know. Thought you two would get along,” you opined.

You watched the cocky raise of eyebrows Joel did and the half-smile following after. He’s silently judging the excuse of a man you’ve brought home tonight, that or he’s just not in the mood for a late night chat after such a troublesome day.

Joel had always been an incredibly difficult man to read. You still think you could read a horse better than him. You’ve gotten better at it throughout the years you’ve spent alongside him, especially after the trip around America for Ellie’s sake, but it’s still a hit or miss most times. It almost felt like he kept changing the numbers to the safe. Just when you thought you’ve cracked the code, he’ll have you come right back to square one.

Joel’s mouth twitched at your silly little assumption, his face contorted as if asking you if you’re for real. You shrugged, amused in a sense. It’d be good for him to start making actual friends, right? Right now his circle was a limited bunch with you being the only non-family acquaintance. His social skills were something you and Tommy are both working on these days. Plus, Jack’s easy on the eyes, so it’s two birds in one stone. 

“I see you still have a thing for Texas boys, hm?”

Joel teased you, this time not even bothering to flash you one of his degrading glares. He pretended like he’s really into the colorful medley of roasted root vegetables you’ve roasted, when you know for a fact he hated any kind of greens. He’d only pretend to like it when Ellie’s around, preaching around about its importance. You realized that you’re getting sidetracked from the real offense he’s just given. A jab of jealousy you’d say.

What kind of game is he playing? Was it another one of his ‘push guys away from you because all men are shit and you’d get hurt’ game? Jack was such a sweetheart, he didn’t even catch on to Joel’s implications, instead he settled on laughing alongside your awkward chuckles.

“Friends?”

“How long have you two been friends?”

Jack’s eyes sparked with curiosity, looking like he’s genuinely in awe of the fond illusion you two must’ve convinced him with.

Joel grinned, a corner of his full mouth lifted at the thought. He almost looked pleased at the premise.

“Two years,” you chimed in for a quick save.

“Man, I thought you two were together,” Jack confessed, salad dressing smeared lightly on his top lip. “Can’t say I ain’t happy when she came sizing me up for a date.”

Your gaze cruised back towards Jack, fluttering a sweet smile his way in case he finally caught up to Joel’s inappropriateness. All you saw was just an innocent look of acknowledgement. His cheeks brightened and swept by a soft wave of pink when he noticed you looking his way, appearing to be thrilled that you spared him a chunk of your attention.

Such a sweetheart. It wouldn’t be so bad if you actually got serious with him; move into a small cottage house, raise chickens and sheeps. Then you could finally bask in stability and mutual understanding. The two things you’re currently lacking.

A silent beat passed at his words. 

You humored him with an obscure chuckle, but it was painfully obvious how the atmosphere dimmed and crumpled ever so slightly around the edges. It’s not the first time the two of you were mistaken as a couple by other villagers, even Tommy and his wife were dead set convinced the first time you sauntered in with him. The months spent on the road with Ellie and him were life changing to say the least and you’d like to think the two of you were bonded by such traumatic events. He needed a purpose, you needed refuge. It’s always been like that from the start. 

There wasn’t even a tinge of romance to humor. Once in the past, you made the mistake of giving in to your ‘delusions’. You wondered whether the silent brief touches he made whenever he walked beside you meant something more. You wondered whether the way he reacted exaggeratedly when you prick your fingers on a rotten door frame meant that he cared. You wondered whether the confessions he made while you were curled up, riding out a fever from a stab wound meant that he wanted you. Those pathetic flourishing feelings were stomped by the heavy soles of his boots the one time you asked.

You could still remember vividly the terrible things he said and the way you sobbed your heart out at that. Thinking back, you’d understand why he said what he said. It was wrong of you to humor such thoughts.

Jack hummed fondly into his handkerchief, neatly cleaning up his fresh shaven complexion that always seemed to make him look a few years younger than what he truly is. He’s more of your age, something you took into account when he came up in your radar. That must mean he’s more suitable for you, right? Unlike Joel who’s reeling into his late fifties; who’s probably too old for all the ‘childish’ shit you put him through. Jack’s also kind and considerate. He went out of his way to get you a basket of fresh apples when you’re sweating bullets trying to catch a loose mare. He never scowled or snapped at you. He’s good for you.

“No. We’re just really good friends,” Joel spoke up firmly into the warm summer air.

It looked like he’s finished with his meal, assuming from how squeaky clean his plate has gotten. Good that he’s filling up. You’ve always liked guys with a little more pudge to them. Not that it mattered. You two were just really good friends as he put it.

“I don’t think I can stay friends with a gal so pretty,” Jack chimed in flirtatiously, a charming smile etched its way across his lips.

You smiled in return, making sure to count to three before letting your eyes wander back to where Joel was sitting. It might be wrong for you to be searching for another man’s reaction when you’re here having sweet Jack as your date. What was certainly wrong was how your stomach finally rumbled with nervous butterflies when you saw his expression. When you saw the small itch disrupting his collected expression; setting his lips into an unimpressed thin line, a small vein prominent on his neck.

God, you wish you could capture the moment on camera.

The rest of the evening went by civilly; you’d expect your really good friend to rip Jack’s head right off when he kept making those stupid flirtatious jokes. Joel looked like he was trying his best to stay grounded and rational, but it's no secret he's holding back a dirty scowl. You caught the way he stuck his tongue onto his inner cheek, or the way he scrutinized each and every joke your date made. Forcing him to explain it thoroughly and embarrassing him in the process; you know he’s an ass, but tonight he’s really testing your limits.

You’d imagine he’d have an excuse as to why he’s behaving this way, like how your veggies tasted weirdly bland he couldn’t hold back his face. It’s unbelievably silly how he thought you’d believe such things at your grown age. That’s another thing to deal with. 

At the moment, you just needed to focus on bidding Jack a sweet goodbye. His smooth blond hair glimmered underneath the moonlight as he leaned in for a kiss. One you didn’t expect quite yet, but you didn’t have the heart to push him away. He’s been a good company after all.

As you expected, it didn’t feel right. His lips were soft and tasted like fresh oranges, but it didn’t feel right. Was it a mistake to keep him at bay when you’re still unable to let go of your peculiar crush? Probably. You were deep in thought as you pulled the front door closed. A gust of wind blowing over your shoulder while you let the guilt marinate into every inch of your skin. 

You felt icky.

“I don’t like him.”

Joel’s disdain traveled quickly along the walls, down the hallway, and onto the exact spot where you’re standing. You turned on your heel to face him, your lips drew back in a snarl. After everything you went through tonight, all the pillow cushioning so that Jake doesn’t feel all the more offended by his audacity, and you’re rewarded with this? You expected him to do one thing and he couldn’t even make it right.

“Yeah?” you piped up, eager to rile him up. “Well, I like him a lot.”

He’s used to listening to your childish preambles. It didn’t take him long to learn how much fun you have just by disobeying his rules, going through with whatever your heart desires, even when it poses a great danger to your own safety. You’re always tricky to deal with, but it’s the only thing that keeps his heart pounding at his old age. The only thing that made him feel alive, thawed after years of surviving. Maybe that’s why he still persisted in keeping you around.

“I’m serious, sweetheart. He sounded like bad news.”

Fucking sweetheart? You scoffed, sounding offended. He would always use that nickname whenever he’s trying to get something through your thick head, whether it’s to stop you from jumping head first into a pond or in this case, to stop you from making rash decisions. He knew what he does to you. He knew that you’d always listen, but not tonight.

“If you spend just one second of your precious time listening to what he has to say, you might actually see what I see,” you glowered. “You were fucking with him the entire time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You were looking down at him, Joel. You always do that. Think everyone’s beneath you.”

“I wasn’t. He’s just a little.. well, flimsy for you.”

“Oh fuck off. You don’t know a thing about me.”

That was a complete lie. He knew more things about you than you’d like, like the way you like your coffee in the morning and which horses were your favorite.

“I don’t?”

“You don’t.”

You solidified your answer, trudging your way past his shoulders like some agitated teenager. Joel thought you looked cute upset and maybe that’s sick of him, but he couldn’t help but be entertained at the way your lips jutted out in disagreement. You’re like this young new thing he’s obsessed with.

“Okay, okay. Come here. Don’t be upset at me. Jake is a nice boy.. I guess,” he gave in to the commotion you made, although he still felt somewhat bitter. 

Jake’s not that much different from what he’s like when he’s younger. Way before his kid, his botched marriage, and the apocalypse. When he’s twenty with a vision for life. It vexed him to admit that he was truly a good man for you. That the man you chose for once wasn’t a scheming jackass. “He worked with horses?”

“Yeah,” you gave in, flashing him the look. The one where you’re further emphasizing that you’re certain with your decisions, that you don’t need him guiding you towards what’s wrong and right like he always has. “He’s good with the horses.. and with me too. Gave me apples when it’s in season.”

Joel’s dark eyebrows curved at your statement. His arms lifted further up to rest against the thin of his waist, a judgemental stance in action. Did you think things like that were peak romance? What about all the times he personally executed all those clickers lurking over you? Whether it’s with a gun or a knife, he’s sure that he’d top Jack when it comes to things he did for you.

“Well then I’m happy for you,” he concluded with a curt nod, doing the one thing you didn’t expect him to do. You scrutinized his expression in response.

“You’re happy for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna go on a date with him.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m gonna get him to kiss me again.”

“Wow. Sounds fun.”

“I’m gonna get him to fuck me so hard you could hear me in your stupid room, Joel.”

That one surely struck a nerve deep within him, judging from the way his lips contorted in disbelief. You’ve never been so.. vulgar in front of him. Not once have you mentioned anything about your sexual desires in front of him and so he thought you didn’t even know those kinds of things existed despite your big age. 

Maybe you’re untouched by the twisted world you’re living in. He assumed you were this sweet girl with an innocent crush on him, eyes twinkling with admiration everytime he walked in a room. He loved the attention, shamefully so, and he’d love to savor it as long as possible. Even when it felt wrong. He didn’t think it was possible for you to look at another in that manner. The thought had him marching towards you, large figure towering over.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

“Why not?” you challenged him.

“Because you’re doing this for attention.”

“I’m not,” you struggle to keep the act upright.

“Look me in the eye and tell me you actually like him. Tell me you like that silly boy.”

You gaped at his request. Adam’s apple bobbing reluctantly as you gathered every last bit of your plummeting confidence to look up into his eyes. They were arrogant; browns peering down at you like he’s just delighted to domineer, to reassert the magnitude of his influence towards you. He caged you in with merely a look. 

This spited you. He’s always been like this. Give you some room to explore so that you don’t feel trapped with him, but he’d always give a little tug to your leash whenever you forget your position. You were his, before he was yours. That was rule number one.

“I like him,” you repeated yourself, bracing for the onslaught of tsunami he might release at your stubbornness. “He’s kind and sweet and lovely and.. and he has the balls to tell me how he felt about me.”

His expression of disapproval seared through your skin, leaving you raw and vulnerable to whatever it is he’s going to say right back at you. You could tell that he was livid, although he's clearly trying his best to be the better man out of the two of you and stay grounded. 

He knew what you're like. He knew that you're riling him up so that he'd cave in to your requests, because God was it terribly hard to stay put when you're looking at him like that. Round pupils bared into his own. Joel felt the revolting urge to soothe your worries, to utter meaningless words of assurance, to validate the bond he's been trying his best to suspend. His desire festered like it was contagious, blurring the line of boundaries.

“If this is about last week, you know my answers remained unchanged.”

"Why?"

You sounded hopeless and it's clawing at his skin.

"It's unfair to you."

"You know what's unfair, Joel? Acting like you gave a damn, then shutting me out of your life like I meant nothing."

You scoffed. You weren't just desperate for an answer now, no, you were furious. Angry that he thought he could make the decisions for you, that he could be the one to determine which things were right and wrong for you when he knew for a fact that you're a grown woman with your own mind to rely on. Angry that he'd put his self worth in the gutter. Angry that he thought you'd judge him even after the things you've been through together; endless drives through the motherland, camping under a sea of stars, dancing with death itself.

Was it that bizarre of an idea? You plucked up the courage to get even closer. The frilly yellow ruffles of your sundress grazing his crossed forearm.

You poked an accusing finger into his chest.

"Drowning yourself in your pathetic pity party because oh, you're so broken. So undeserving of love."

Your furrowed eyebrows drove him insane.

"Yet you still keep me around. Couldn’t push me away because God knows you need me more than you'd like."

Your labored breath teased the column of his neck.

"That's what's unfair. The fucking waiting. The dancing around. Put me out of my misery, Joel."

He didn't know what to say. Silenced for once.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me."

You dared him, just like how he dared you. Joel felt conflicted. His vision glued onto the tips of his worn down leather boots as if it’d provide some kind of answer to your demands, He inhaled sharply, before letting out a shaky sigh. Afraid that he’d promise you something he couldn’t own up to, especially since his sharp edges are now dulled from age. 

Joel couldn’t be selfish. No, he couldn’t be that person any longer when he has one foot in the grave.

He knew his end was approaching.

Subtly, but surely. His heart tightened sporadically every time he’d run a little too fast. His joints were stiff and useless, enough that Tommy threatened to pull him off patrols if he kept pushing at his pace. He recalled the incident from his last trip. How he barely escaped a loose infected because his senses had dampened. Your voice also seemed to become more and more faint; he couldn’t even hear the list of items you’ve burdened him with on a shopping trip. Whether you needed a jar of raisins or a pair of shears.

Claiming you was selfish.

He decided on that awhile ago. Far before you’ve realized your infatuation with him, far before you offer such a sweet proposition. 

“Come back to me when you stop being a fucking coward, Joel.”

His throat grew parched at the buzzing silence. He willed himself to touch you, even when it burned his finger tips and sizzled the tip of his ears red. You looked furious, but that cute expression faltered in a miniscule of a second when he cupped the side of your cheek. His thumb stroked agonizingly slow as if you'd evaporate into thin air if he was too brash.

He'd always thought you’re beautiful. One of a kind. Whether it’s when you’re drooling embarrassingly or when you’re dressed up for the commune’s party. But you look the most unbelievable when you’re worried for him.

Was that selfish of him? He traced over your bottom lip gently, feeling the plush material underneath. How he longed to press his lips onto yours. Would it taste sweet? Would you feel soft? His bottom lip quivered, unable to form an answer.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The way I am EATING up your “Hand Her Over” series ahdkdjaklsdj 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 your Ran parts are so SO spot on, exactly how I envision him dealing with it, we need moreeeeee!!!! (please🥺)

Hand Her Over I (Part 6): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: lots of fluff

masterlist

Hand Her Over Megapost

It's quiet.

Ran awakens right before dawn, his arms around your body and his face nuzzles your neck. With a deep inhale, he takes in your sweet scent before gently disentangling himself from you.

It's difficult - undoing himself from his protective posture - but somehow, he's able to do it without waking you. You don't even stir, and Ran's feet press against the carpet gently. It isn't until he's unfolded himself and crept into the bathroom that he realizes...

She slept through the night.

The realization doesn't blow him away at first, but then, as he stands in front of the mirror, he feels his entire body un-tense. By some miracle, the weight that used to sag on his shoulders day in and day out has lightened a bit.

Ran racks his brain for any memory of what he did last night before you went to bed. You both read a novel you'd picked out, creating a sort of book club for two. He'd massaged your feet as you told him about your day, and then put on the white noise you love so much as you fell asleep in his embrace. Nothing out of the usual was done. He'd even ordered takeout for dinner, nothing special.

So, maybe... just maybe...

Ran doesn't let his hope bloom too quickly, though. His hands turn the knobs of the tub's faucet, and water trickles out before becoming a more substantial - but quiet - stream. Making a bath for you is a treasured ritual, one that has given Ran a very easy start to the morning.

In a few minutes, the white noise would fade away, and you'd awaken before joining him in the bathroom. You'd give him sleepy kisses and whisper your daily greetings, and he'd repeat them back to you as he helped you out of your clothing.

He remembers the hurried mornings when he was in Bonten; the mornings that were filled with hisses of stubbed toes, stumbling into the kitchen to find something to eat, the urges to leave without kissing you goodbye so he could make it to the never-ending slew of meetings...

But now, he doesn't have to do that anymore. And he's fucking glad.

Your grunts and moans tear Ran away from his thoughts, and he peers at you, stretching and grumbling and perfect. But you're still sleepy. He can see it in the way your head aches to lay back on the pillow, in the way your eyes are still closed and praying for a few more minutes of rest.

"Good morning," Ran murmurs and you turn to him, eyes still closed. "Did you sleep well?"

"I slept so good," you croak, and Ran grins lazily. "Want some more sleep, though."

"I can stop the bath," he offers, then turns to shut the faucet off. That never really mattered anyway. Ran joins you in the bed, letting your head rest on his crease of his elbow. "You slept straight through the night," he notes, and you open your eyes, shocked.

"You're lying."

"Not," he replies, tapping your nose with one finger. "You didn't even wake up when I got out of the bed." Ran can see the hope blooming behind your own eyes, and he tries with all of his might to stuff his back down. This could just be a fluke. You might go back to the crying fits tonight, and then, he'd be right back at square one. Still devastated.

"You think," you begin, but it's cut off by a long yawn. "You think we can go to the bakery downtown for breakfast?"

"Of course," Ran whispers, kissing your forehead and pulling you close. "Whatever you want." You hum and fall back asleep, your hands bunched up in Ran's shirt.

"You should grow your hair back out." Ran stops mid-bite.

"Huh?"

"Your hair," you murmur, pointing your fork at his head. "You should grow it out again." Ran chuckles, trying not to think about himself with long purple hair.

"And have a purple, long-haired husband?" He shakes his head gently, Rindou's hair flashing in his mind. They only had a similar haircut one time for a reason. "I don't think so."

"You don't have to dye it again," you add, shrugging. "Could grow your roots out and cut it like you have it now." When you shrug again, Ran watches the straps of the sundress slide around on your shoulders. And he can't help but think - mid-conversation, no less - how beautiful you'd look if they inched down a little, and--

"Would you two like anything else?" Ran's gaze moves to the waiter, and he looks between the two of you.

"Can I have another strawberry smoothie?" you ask, and the waiter nods before looking at Ran.

"I'm alright, thanks." Once the waiter is gone, Ran looks back over to you, and he watches the way your red lips curl around the straw. It's not sexual in any way but Ran can't help but think about how lucky he is.

"Have I told you lately that I love you?" You look up at Ran in surprise, and your face brightens immediately. And it takes his fucking breath away.

"You tell me all the time, my love," you reply sweetly. "Why? Are you forgetting that you love me?" You're teasing, but Ran's heart still skips a beat.

"No," he breathes, taking your hand in his. "I'm just making sure I tell you often." He kisses your fingers, noting that they're a little cold, then he warms them up with his own fingers. You smile even more.

"Can I tell you something?" you whisper, a mischievous look in your eyes.

"I love secrets," Ran jokes, leaning forward. You lean forward and Ran expects you to whisper something scandalous, but you kiss his lips instead. The waiter comes by right at that moment, but if he hadn't, Ran would have said something absolutely scandalous.

He's still considering it as you both walk out of the bakery hand in hand. "You know what," he begins, looking at the colorful window display in a boutique shop. "We could make a few stops on the way home..."

"Yeah?" You follow his gaze, and smirk. "Shopping?"

"Maybe..."

Ran's devious plan comes together in the dressing room of the boutique, his hands roaming up your thighs in an exaggerated way. The garters brush against his fingers and he shivers, delighting in this image of you.

“This reminds me of better times.”

“Does it?” You look down at him, and he chuckles, taking in your lusty expression.

"Why don't you do this..." Ran takes his credit card and slips it between the lace of the belt. "Buy this one. Then buy another one that makes you happy. I'll be waiting outside for you."

Goosebumps follow the brush of his fingers across the tender flesh of your ass, and Ran leaves the store, a twinge of excitement settling in his stomach. You emerge minutes later, holding your items with pride.

"Did you get what you wanted?"

"Of course," you answer, kissing his cheek and slipping his card into his pocket. "Would you like to see it?"

"Do I like to breathe?" Ran jokes, and you take his hand, lacing your warm fingers through his.

"Ran!"

"My hair's still wet," Ran answers when you call his name.

"I need you," you call out, and Ran tosses a towel over his head, rubbing it back and forth hurriedly as he leaves the bathroom.

"Coming," he replies, stepping into the dimly lit room and expecting something other than what he's met with. "B-babe?" You're lying in the bed, covered in a blush pink lingerie set Ran's never seen before. It must've been the one you bought when he wasn't in the store, but flashes of your wedding night come back in quick bursts.

"I thought you'd like this since..." You run your hands up the garment and smile coyly. "It might remind you of 'better times'." Ran's towel drops from his head and lands on the floor behind him. "You looked just like that, too. All awed and..." You point a swirling finger at Ran's body. "Aroused." His eyes look down at the towel around his waist, and of course, there's an indication of his enjoyment of the moment. You crook a finger at him and whisper,

"Come and get it; if you dare." Ran's hesitation lasts for longer than it should have. When he doesn't make a hasty path toward you, he knows he has to ask. He knows he has to make sure.

"I..." He pulls himself together, and his brows furrow. "We can take things slow."

"Never said we couldn't," you murmur back, propping your head up on an open hand.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Never said you would." God, Ran feels so childish saying these things; he knows you know he loves you and wouldn't dare hurt you, but... The breath catches in Ran's throat, and he's unsure of what to say. And for all of the tears he's shed in private, he's not sure why he's crying. Everything's better now, right?

"Oh," you coo, watching Ran tear up and scrub at his face furiously. Ran hears you get up from the bed and feels your hands wrapping around his wrists, leading him toward the comfortable sheets and pillows. When his cheek rests against your skin, Ran can't contain himself. Crying is not his thing, but when he feels you, touches you, and remembers all of the years he's spent by your side, he's overwhelmed.

"I'm... sorry," he hiccups, tucking his face into your body in shame. "I shouldn't be crying."

"That's bullshit," you whisper, stroking his hair lovingly like his mother used to. "Cry whenever you feel like it." Ran doesn't add how he's felt the overpowering need to be strong for you always, but he senses that you understand and you love him despite it.

He finds himself curling into your embrace and lulling himself into a night of sleep he's unable to fight. It's warm, it's comfortable, almost exactly like your wedding night when you both collapsed in the bed, utterly exhausted... but full of joy.

[bekaroth-reads]

Stardew Valley Shane x Reader

[based on the fact that most of the time when he asks why you’re bothering him, his avatar is still smiling.]

Pelican Town was a pretty nice place to live. There weren’t too many other people living here, and your farm was far enough from the actual town that you didn’t get to see the other residents too often. But, you did still see them enough that you were friendly with all of them and actually starting to be friends with some of them. Everyone here seemed to be naturally friendly, even if they were on the more quiet side personality-wise.

And, then there was Shane.

He always looked like he was about to keel over any minute, and half of the time that keeling looked to be by choice. Not that you could really blame him seeing as he was working at the Joja Mart. You had worked for that company long enough yourself to know how much of the life it can suck out of someone. Not to mention he was dealing with a retail job, which was difficult to stomach even if it was somewhere other than Joja. Not that there were too many other people outside of Pelican that went there and would treat him poorly. Shane did have the advantage of living in a smaller town so that even if someone had a problem with him, it would be less likely for it to be blown to a large proportion as that would cause a ripple through the whole population; not to mention that everyone respected Marnie too much to ever do something to cause her grief. No, what most people felt about Shane was pity. They all gave him space though and he seemed to like that.

Regardless, you were always sure to at least wave at Shane when you saw him. For the first month or so you would simply wave or maybe give a, “Good morning,” as when you usually saw him as you were passing each other in the town square on mornings you had to stop at Pierre’s. This was usually met with complete silence or an annoyed grunt. It didn’t bother you too much. You weren’t much of a morning person yourself and understood not wanting to have a full conversation that early in the day. Things changed a little bit once the two of you were properly introduced; perhaps not properly, but there was an introduction. You were over checking prices on things with Marnie as you wanted to be sure you could afford everything you needed if you bought some chickens when Shane came walking in from the other room. “Oh, this is my nephew Shane. I’m sure the two of you have seen each other before.” She offered when he didn’t say anything to you. “Oh, we’ve met before.” You offered as an explication to ease the scolding tone that she was giving Shane. “I don’t know you,” was all that Shane said before walking out the door before Marnie could say anything about it.

After that, you would be a bit more forward about talking to him. Nothing too much past what you were already doing, but instead of just, “Good morning,” you would ask, “How are you?” Or, you would even do something as simple as addressing him by name. Shane in turn, evolved from ignoring or grunting at you to talking back. Of course, it was things like, “Why are you talking to me,” or, “I’m busy.” It was still talking though, and when you talked to Marnie about it to make sure you weren’t making him uncomfortable, she first apologized for how curt he was being, but then seemed floored that he even said that much to you. She said the most he ever talked to anyone that wasn’t her or Jas was when he ordered a drink at the pub or when he was forced to give one to two-word answers at work. There was still a feeling that he was a bit out of his comfort zone, but Marnie assured you if there was a real problem you would know about it; that or she would, and seeing as she didn’t want her nephew to be any more unhappy than he already was she would tell you herself.

Things were really changed last night. It was Friday night, and you decided to go to the pub. It would be nice to just relax for an evening and since that was the night that most of everyone else went to the pub as well it would be nice to catch up with some people you hadn’t seen in a while. When you got there, the usual crowd was there as well, some of them waving as you walked in the door. You ended up spending most of the night talking with Leah with Emily popping in from time to time when she wasn’t helping Gus. You noticed Shane standing in a corner by himself. It seemed that Leah saw you glance in that direction, and commented, “Poor guy. Everyone hates to see him feel so down and out all the time. But, there’s not much anyone can do to help him. He’ll choose beer over help anytime.” There was a bit of derision in her voice, but nothing too uncalled for as it did look like he was at least partially doing this to himself. Before the conversation could continue Emily stopped by on her break and started talking about something completely different.

As the night went on more and more people made their way home. Eventually, there was only a fraction of the people left in the bar. This led to you sitting at the bar. And, only a chair away from Shane. The positioning wasn’t planned, simply from you both taking what seats were available at the time and not moving when others opened up. You were drinking your last drink for the night while Shane was halfway through his third tankard of beer. Not that it should have been impressive, but you found it morbidly amazing that he could have had that much and still be as relatively sober as he was; Gus’s tankards were by no means small. You looked at him from the corner of your eye as you took another drink. “Hey,” you greeted and you saw his tense shoulders slump, seeming deflating because you were bothering him. But, with a few drinks in him, Shane found his tongue loosened more than usual.

“Why do you talk to me?” He asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You respond.

This made Shane stop and think for a minute. “It…” he huffed and mumbled so quietly that you almost missed it, “People just don’t.” There was another pause of neither of you talking. Finally, Shane broke the silence again. “Look, if you really want to impress me then buy me another drink.” It surprised everyone, who neither of you noticed were at least glancing at you both frequently because of how odd it was to see Shane out of his corner and talking to someone. It surprised Shane as well when you looked up from your drink and called, “Hey, Gus.” He came walking over, pretending to not have just been talking about the two of you with Emily. You nodded toward Shane and requested, “Get this man a water, if you don’t mind.” Gus did his best to hide a laugh, relieved that he didn’t have to explain to you that he had already cut Shane off for the night. Shane’s face scrunched up moments before he hid it under his hood, and hissed, “Are you serious?”

“Hey, you said a drink. Never said which one.” You chuckle as you catch the glass Gus slid at you. “Besides, you could use it before you walk home.” You gave his shoulder a few pats before standing up to leave. Even though most of his face was covered, you could see the slight twitch of a starting smile threaten to make its way onto his face. You paid Gus and said goodbye to Shane. Everyone sat there like they were witnessing an impossibility when he waved back.

This morning while you were waiting for Pierre’s to open for the day, you saw a certain Joja Mart employee making his way to work. “Good morning, Shane. How are you?” You greeted as he walked by you. He paused a moment like he was thinking about saying something else but eventually grumbled out, “Busy. Why are you talking to me…” as he kept walking past. However, you noticed that little smile start to invade his dower face once again. Maybe Shane didn’t mind you talking to him as much as he acted like he did.

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 6

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael learns that Tav has been up to something. Tav is reminded of the reality of the situation she finds herself in and of who Raphael really is. She also learns that she is beginning to develop a bit of Stockholm Syndrome.

(AN: I can't believe we're already at Chapter 6. I think I started writing this fic early this month. I literally haven't thought of anything else since. I should really try touching some grass...)

TW: Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Blood.

Hope you are still alive and well. What is it that Raphael wants from us and what should we expect if he contacts us?

That was the message that she had received in the morning from Gale. She had to get a message back to her friends, though it would prove difficult as Cassius was watching her with the intensity of a predator waiting for its prey to move before it pounces.

She could take him easily. That was not the problem at all. The problem was that Cassius would not fall for the same trick and he would definitely tattle on her this time if she tried anything. She would have to be very discreet.

She got up from her chair and started slowly walking back and forth in the large main area of the house. Cassius narrowed his eyes at her.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Getting some exercise. It’s not like I can go out for a stroll, is it?” Tav answered and stretched her limbs.

“Sit down,” Cassius ordered.

“Free roam of the house~” Tav said, repeating what Raphael had promised her on her first day there. “You are supposed to follow me, not the other way around.”

“I can’t watch you if you keep pacing,” he said with a sneer. “Sit. Down.”

“No,” Tav said and kept walking at a leisurely pace.

There was a quiet growl of frustration from Cassius, but he did not get up from his chair, although he kept watching her intently.

She kept walking around the room, testing if he would get up from his chair if she turned her back on him. She could sense that he tensed up when she did, but he did not move. All she needed was a moment.

She turned her back on him once again. She quickly and quietly mumbled the message she had rehearsed in her mind for Gale.

Unfortunately, Cassius were on her before she could even say the incantation for the sending spell.

“You insolent little bitch,” he hissed.

He grabbed her hair and pulled her backwards, making her land on her back. She opened her mouth to say an incantation, but Cassius was fast. He punched her square in the face, and it took her by surprise. It was clear that he had just been waiting for an excuse to hurt her.

He held her arms down and muffled her with his hand.

“I can’t wait till he sees your true colors,” Cassius said and pressed down the hand that was over her mouth and nose, making it hard for her to breathe.

Tav bit his hand hard and then she worked fast: Thunderwave, Sleep spell.

Cassius flew back and slumped to the floor.

Tav was breathing hard. She closed her eyes for a moment to try and calm her pulse down a bit. She rubbed her face and when she withdrew it, she saw that there was a good amount of blood on it.

She got up from the floor and walked over to Cassius, before casting another spell that would ensure that he would keep sleeping for quite a while before getting up again.

Tav closed her eyes and said the message she would send to Gale:

The Orphic Hammer. I’m in chains. He is trying to lure you here to try and free me. Don’t come here under any circumstances.

She sent the message and then glanced at Cassius on the floor before sending another as well:

I’m safe and well. I’ll probably not be able to contact you any time soon. Too risky. Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out.

Tav sighed. She threw herself down in an armchair and called on one of the servants. The poor halfling woman who entered looked at Cassius’s unconscious body and then at Tav’s bloodied face with widened eyes. Tav smiled politely at her.

“Can you call Raphael here?” Tav asked.

“Yes, miss,” the halfling servant mumbled and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Tav waited and expected the worst when Raphael would come home.

Raphael was in his devil form when he returned home. He looked furious when he entered and saw his warlock unconscious on the floor. He looked even more pissed when his eyes went to Tav.

“Please…” Tav said and held her hands up in defense. “Let me explain…”

“Oh, you will,” Raphael said in a low voice and walked closer to her. “Talk.”

“The day after I got here, I incapacitated Cassius to cast a sending spell to my friends,” she explained hurriedly. “I convinced him not to tell you. Today I did it again. I am being upfront with you, because it’s not my intention to piss you off or to hide anything.”

The latter being a bit of a lie. She would not have told Raphael if she had not been caught in the act by Cassius, and he probably knew that she was only trying to come clean in order to get ahead of Cassius’s allegations.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed at her as he studied her bloodied face. He was quiet for a moment. It was tense and uncomfortable.  

“What did he do to you?” Raphael asked. He said it with eerie calmness, but she could hear the anger hiding right under the surface.

That was…not the question she had anticipated. She had been so busy saving her own ass, that she had not really considered the fact that Cassius might be in danger from getting punished as well. It was not that she had a lot of sympathy for the warlock, but she knew what Raphael was capable of doing to people, and she did not like the thought of being responsible for it.

“Oh this?” Tav asked and gestured to her face. Her nose was still slightly bleeding, and she felt that her cheek was starting to swell up slightly. “He only tried to hinder me from attacking him.”

Raphael's eyes narrowed even more.

“Mm…And why are you protecting him, Tav?” Raphael asked in a dangerous tone.

“I’m not,” she said with quietly. “It’s just…he was just doing his job.”

“I am well aware of his incompetence. His job was to call upon me should anything happen. Which he has failed to do twice, if what you are saying is correct,” Raphael said darkly and came closer. He grabbed her chin gently and turned her face to study her injuries. “I did not give him permission to harm you like this, so I will ask you again…Why are you protecting him?”

The intensity of Raphael’s stare and the tone of his voice made her nervous. She swallowed hard and her eyes flicked away from his gaze.  

For once, she actually felt like a little mouse, shaking under the paw of the cat, knowing that one wrong move could mean that its claws would sink into her.

“Do you care for him, is that it?” Raphael asked pointedly.

Her eyes went back to his and her brow furrowed at the odd question. Was that…jealousy she saw on his face?

“No,” she answered as if it was obvious. “I don’t. I’ve told you what I think of him before…it’s just…”

“Just what?” Raphael asked, his fiery eyes still boring into hers.

“I just…don’t want to be responsible for what you are going to do to him…” she answered in a quiet voice.

A sadistic smile flickered across his face for a brief moment.

“Do not worry yourself with such matters,” Raphael said in a slightly lighter tone and ran his thumb over her chin before his tone turned dark again. “Cassius, is responsible for what I am going to do to him.”

He let go of her chin and used the same hand to snap his fingers. Korrilla appeared in a flash of smoke and embers. It looked like she had been in the middle of something when she was whisked away. She looked at Tav and Raphael with slight confusion.

“Take her to the boudoir,” Raphael said to Korrilla and then looked at Tav to address her. “You and I will talk later.”

That little sentence and the tone of his voice made her hair stand on end.

Tav was pacing the room with an empty look in her eyes. She was not easy to scare, but now she was terrified of what Raphael might to do her. She had heard the sounds of when he sometimes punished the servants for disobeying his orders.

Whatever he would do to her, it would be personal. She had told Raphael too much. There was way too much for him to use against her and she felt anxiety bubbling in her stomach. She had not felt fear like that for years. She felt like a scared little girl again and she hated it.

“Sit down, Tav,” Korrilla said calmly. “You are going to make a hole in the floor with all that walking back and forth.”

“I think I really fucked up…” Tav mumbled and kept pacing. “What do you think he’ll do? Do you think he’d go after my friends?”

Tav had not even considered that before she said it. He probably would not. It seemed below him, but her anxiety was telling her that he might.

“Sit down, Tav,” Korrilla sighed. ”And calm down.”

“How am I supposed to be calm?” Tav asked and flinched slightly as she heard the muffled sounds of Raphael’s shouting at Cassius through the barrier to the boudoir.

“Tav,” Korrilla said slowly. “Sit down and tell me what happened.”

Tav sighed. She sat down and explained everything to Korrilla. She noticed that Korrilla was suppressing a smile as she explained, which annoyed her to no end.

“What is it that is so fucking funny about this situation?” Tav suddenly snapped at her.

Korrilla chuckled. She put her elbows on the table between them and leaned closer to Tav.

“You’re a smart girl,” Korrilla said in a lowered voice. “Use that brain of yours. You’ve seen his other debtors roaming the halls, haven’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” Tav said with an annoyed expression. “Yes, obviously. So what?”

“Do you see any of them getting treated as well as you? Are any of them dressed in silks, sleeping in their master’s bed?” Korrilla asked.

“No but that’s just because he needs me alive and in one piece to lure my friends here. He said that himself,” Tav said. She was getting frustrated with Korrilla’s calmness.

“Why?” Korrilla asked and then pointed to Tav’s chains around her wrists. “You’re wearing those. You can’t leave the house anyhow, so how would they know that you are 'alive and in one piece'? Wouldn’t it be more motivating for your friends to come and save you if they were told that you are suffering in a dungeon somewhere in the Hells?”

Tav was looking at her with a mix of annoyance and confusion.

“What are you saying?” Tav asked.

“I am saying that had you been any other person who had defied him, you would be in there watching as he made an example of Cassius. Instead, I was ordered to herd you into the only room that is somewhat soundproof in this house,” Korrilla said. “He favors you, Tav. You are not in any danger of getting hurt. Not yet anyhow.”

Tav rubbed her face trying to make sense of it. Of course, she knew that she was being treated surprisingly well for what she had expected when she got there, she was not blind. It just did not make sense, when she was the one who robbed him of his precious Crown of Karsus that he had been hunting for years. It must be some cruel joke and at some point, the hammer would fall.

“But why?” Tav asked.

“Who knows,” Korrilla said with a shrug. “I’ve worked for him for a long time, and I still won’t bother to try to figure out his motivations when it comes to certain matters. It’s a lost cause. Raphael does what Raphael wants. Which is what Cassius is learning for the first time as we speak.”

As if on cue, she heard the muffled sound of a scream from the other side of the barrier.

Tav hid her face in her hands.

“I feel terrible…” Tav said. “I hate the fucker, but he doesn’t deserve that.”

“Do you want me to make it worse?” Korrilla asked.

“No,” Tav mumbled into her hands.

“In the beginning we were given permission to hurt you if it was necessary to stop you, you know?” Korrilla explained anyway. “It sounds like Cassius overreacted, but technically he was not completely out of line. Aside from the fact that he failed to report it when you did it the first time, of course.”

Tav looked up from her hands and her brow furrowed.

“Then why is he even getting punished?” Tav asked in disbelief.

“Half of the job is figuring out Raphael’s whims and fancies…” Korrilla said. “I suppose he changed his mind along the way.”

Tav was quiet for a moment. She was trying to make sense out of it, but with little luck.  

“But you haven’t heard any of this from me. Understood?” Korrilla said, as she always did when she had said too much. 

Tav nodded. Gods, she loved Korrilla for her tendency to gossip.

“Thank you, Korrilla,” Tav said.

“For what?” she asked. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t common sense…”

Tav flinched as she heard another muffled gut-wrenching scream.

“What should I expect from him when he’s done?” Tav asked.

“My guess? He might yell at you. Perhaps a few threats of what would happen if you do it again,” Korrilla said. “I really can’t imagine that he would hurt you over something like a few sending spells.”

Tav nodded. That helped her calm down somewhat.

Tav and Korrilla went quiet when Raphael entered the boudoir. Korrilla left immediately, leaving Tav alone with him.

He was drying his hands from blood with a handkerchief. He looked Tav up and down. She looked him up and down in return. Her anxiousness was bubbling up in her stomach again. The fact that Raphael’s facial expression revealed nothing, did not help. He was eerily calm. He started walking towards her at a leisurely pace and sat down where Korrilla had sat a moment before.

Tav’s nerves made her break the silence.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked with a tinge of nervousness in her voice.

He looked at her with a slight smile and those same intense eyes he had looked at her earlier.

“Is that fear I hear in your voice, mouse?” he asked. “How delightful it is to see that you do have some sense of self-preservation after all…”

He snapped his fingers and the bloodied handkerchief disappeared.

“Tell me, what did you say to your companions in those messages?” he asked calmly.

Tav hesitated with her answer for a moment. He would most likely know if she was lying, so she decided to tell him the truth.

“Where I was. That I was safe for now…That they should not deal with you no matter what,” she explained.

“Mm…” He hummed in thought. “And this was the day after you arrived, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Raphael said. “And the second message? There were just those two, yes?”

“Well, I sent two today right after each other,” she explained. “I received a message asking what you wanted from them. I explained and once again emphasized that they should not come. Then I told them that it might be my last message, because I anticipated that I would have to come clean to you.”

“I’m glad you did,” he answered calmly. “Cassius will not be guarding you anymore. He won’t even see you if it can be avoided.”

Tav’s brow furrowed in confusion. Surely, Korrilla would not be able to do anything else if she was constantly watching her.

“Who will be then?” she asked.

“No one,” Raphael answered. “You will be granted that privacy you’ve been yearning for. I see no reason why you should not. You haven’t proven to be destructive or shown even the faintest interest in escaping. Not that you would have any luck even if you tried, of course.”

…What?! Tav could not believe it. This had to be a trap, or she was seriously missing something. She was dumbfounded.

“I hurt your warlock twice, I send messages to my friends to discourage them for falling into your trap, and I’m getting rewarded for it?” Tav said in disbelief. “What am I missing here, Raphael?”

“I had expected you to do as much. In fact, I had expected you would do much worse…” Raphael said calmly. “I am rewarding your honesty, not your actions. Besides, I am using a lot of resources on keeping an eye on you and I now find it unnecessary. It is as simple as that.”

Tav was still dumbfounded. She was honestly a bit more nervous about this reaction than she would have been if he had simply punished her or yelled at her. He was up to something. He must be, or it did not make sense.

“Though I need you to understand this…” he said and leaned closer to her. “If I catch you trying anything, I will not let you escape punishment again. I will not let you abuse the trust I am giving you by loosening my grip on your leash. Do you understand?”

She into those fiery eyes of his and nodded.

“Good,” he purred and smiled at her. He studied the injuries on her face from Cassius punching her. “You should get that cleaned up, dear.”

Tav wanted to ask him something, but she hesitated for a moment.

“What did you do to him?” she asked quietly.

There it was again. That look on his face that she could not quite place. Anger? Jealousy? Possessiveness? He quickly replaced it with a smirk.

“I still have a few things to see to before I will return,” Raphael said, ignoring her question and getting up from the chair. “Enjoy your first little taste of privacy, my dear.”

He left her and as promised, no one came to watch her. She was alone for the first time in over a week. There was complete silence. She found herself unable to figure out what to do with herself.

She was left to her thoughts, and it quickly became uncomfortable. She had acted like a good little pet for Raphael, and she was starting to realize that she had almost forgotten that she was there against her will, robbed of her freedom.

She had cowered before him and admitted everything. She had been reminded of what he was capable of and who he really was…and yet…throughout the day she found that she missed him and longed for when he would come home again. And yet, she found herself thinking about what Korrilla had said to her: He favors you, Tav.

Why did that thought excite her? Why did she care that he favored her? She was nothing more than her captor’s favored prisoner, but she found herself feeling warm inside at the thought.

It disgusted her to think of who she was becoming and yet, the feelings were still there...

[roebeanstalk]

update

cashapp | ko-fi | venmo

i've been doin' Not Well again, but i'm working on pulling myself out of it. i'm getting there. today has been a very "talk to your inner child and hold them and soothe them the way no one ever was able to throughout your life" kind of day.

i ran out of estrogen at the beginning of the year. maybe a little before? i can't remember. for a bit i was taking spironolactone still, but after a bit i still felt really off so i decided to taper off of spiro as well, to let my body find some natural balance of hormones.

it's been about a month of no HRT at all. it's been really, really difficult. there are parts that i'm okay with, and parts that i am not. my body hair has started growing at it's rapid rate again, so i'm seeing more hair quicker than i have in the last five years. my facial hair, too. i'm oily and i can feel it all over me. my face feels like it's shifted.

i haven't been bringing in money other than what covers rent, and i'm still not back on my snap benefits. i'm not getting a lot to eat, except for the occasions where i get a small amount of money from someone and then i spend it all on food and eat it immediately.

i'm living in a scarcity mindset again, never sure when i'll eat moe than popcorn next, while going through the worst dysphoria i've ever felt.

i'm not showing up for myself, i'm having a hard time for my friends, and i just feel really stuck.

i do think i can pull out of it... today has been a nice day of self exploration that's leaving me hopeful. there's just so much to do, and i also just like. have to figure out how to eat. that's... square one. how to afford food, and how to get rent paid. square one and two, i guess.

i'm trying to just post about what i'm going through/feeling without immediately jumping to action. i think i usually try to come up with ~the perfect plan~ so that i can post and please clients, but it's usually something i'm going to struggle with actually keeping up with.

so instead of overpromising after this, i'm just not going to formulate a huge plan.

i have hope. i know what to do… but everything's just foggy. very silent hill over here. i'll get through it.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Hello, Nightfolk Network. Me am gorilla.

Gorilla used to be in zoo. Then, one night, big white ball appear over gorilla nest. Ball make very big noise and very big light, get louder and brighter until gorilla fall asleep. When wake up, ball gone and gorilla am smart like person.

Gorilla want to live outside like person do, so run away from zoo. Have hard first month or so, but eventually gorilla find good job at dock and make enough to rent room from little old lady.

Dock job mostly good, is a lot of lift. Gorilla good at lift, and when gorilla go out for drink with work buddies, they say “attaboy, gorilla” and pat on back and gorilla feel like part of gang. Problem is, sometimes gorilla afraid world think gorilla ONLY good at lift, Nightfolk Network know what gorilla mean? Gorilla more than that. Good listener, enjoy trip to theatre… but worry people only see big gorilla arms and not big gorilla heart.

This make gorilla not sure where to go in life. Stay in dock job with money and people but keep just being big lift gorilla? Find other job? Maybe go to school, get degree?

Gorilla even consider going back to zoo, where gorilla know me have square meal every day and plenty of free time and no rent, but not know if it worth life beholden to schedule and whims of The Man. What Nightfolk Network advice?

Thank you,

Gorilla

My dear reader, it sounds as if you're at a very exciting crossroads in your life. You've made excellent progress in carving out a life for yourself after leaving the zoo, and I hope you can take a moment to be proud of how far you've come. You've found a home, a job, and have started building up a community around you. Attaboy, gorilla!

That said, I absolutely understand your frustration at the two-dimensional image your friends seem to have of you. You deserve to be loved and appreciated for all facets of your being, not only those which are most useful to other people.

I can't recommend going back to the zoo, I'm afraid. Unfortunately the benefits it offers come at far too great a cost – namely, to your autonomy and dignity. Better to make your own choices and risk the consequences than to have no choices at all.

Pursuing your education sounds like an excellent step in the right direction. Not only will it improve your chances in the job market, it will also hopefully expose you to all sorts of new ideas and perspectives on the world that you might not have had access to during your time at the zoo.

It will also put you in the way of other learners, and perhaps offer a different sort of friendship than your workmates provide. We all need all sorts of different relationships to feel supported, and the wider range of people you can socialise with, the better.

I don't think you necessarily need to jump straight in with a degree-level course, however. In fact, that might prove rather difficult. I have no doubt you are capable and intelligent enough to pursue a degree if you put your mind to it, but it will be very difficult to get a place on a course without any prior qualifications.

What's more, I'm very aware that you are only at the very earliest stage of your independence. University is a good fit for certain kinds of learners with certain kinds of interests, but it isn't the only option available to you.

You need to take a little time working out what it is you really want to do, and come up with a plan of action that suits your own needs.

I recommend reaching out to your local council to see what opportunities are available for adult learners. Many offer free courses where you can earn the equivalent of your GCSEs or A Levels, usually with flexible course times that can fit around a working person's schedule.

Just as your work friends need to learn to see you as a more rounded person, you also need to treat yourself with the same courtesy. You have so much within you that deserves to be nurtured and nourished, and are only at the start of the journey to discover what all those different needs might be.

In short, reader, I recommend throwing yourself into new experiences, pursuing whatever avenues take your interest, and opening that big gorilla heart to the world.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[coralpaperthoughts]

for this au I'm thinking reverse love square, but Luka instead of Adrien

Luka walks his sister to school (coz he's a good big brother and she's nervous about her first day), he bumps into Marinette - now, he's already heard about Marinette from his sister but he's never actually met her before

He actually physically bumps into Marinette, or she does to him coz heck our girl lacks spatial awareness, and she falls but he catches her, and she doesn't feel anything but embarrassment but he, oh Luka, Luka is blushing, just a little bit coz wow, she's just got the prettiest freckles

and he's all up in her face so he leans back and helps her upright because he was practically dipping her and he let's go of her waist and Juleka mumbles 'Hi, Marinette'

so this is Marinette

she says hi back and introduces herself, 'oh you must be Juleka's older brother, Luka', Juleka mumbles smth about twins but Luka's not paying attention to her anymore, he's looking at Marinette and thinking about all the good things Jules has had to say about her in the past and how pretty she is, our boy is swooning so hard, he forgot to reply back before the warning bell has rung signalling to students class is starting soon

he says a quick rushed 'bye, you'll do great, I'll be here to pick you up' to Juleka and a quick smile to Marinette before he pushes the girls towards their classrooms and rushes out himself (this all takes place after the incident (test) with Master Fu)

This is Luka crushing on Marinette, then you have Marinette crushing on Scarlet Bug

because this strong, hunk of a guy, beautiful man is now her partner against crime (which she didn't sign up for !! but she'll do what she needs to do for the people of Paris) and at one point she gets flung across the block and lands in the beefy arms of a boy with gorgeous blue eyes

cue Marinette getting extremely nervous and stutter-y around him coz damn, she's falling

the fight goes so and so but it passes pretty quick, it was a bit difficult for Luka coz his partner would trip sometimes and wouldn't look him in the eyes but he just put it down to first time jitters, he was deffo feeling them too

they don't, however, purify the Akuma and so they're back at the fight a little over an hour later but now with a new addition to their already new team, Adrian !! (referring to Dog Miraculous!Adrien as Adrian coz I don't like Flairmidable, and Adrian is apparently a common name for dogs so hush)

Adrien is gay, he's known since he was a kid, women never crossed his mind - so when he lays eyes on the gorgeous gorgeous black and red haired (because I say so !!) boy that he is now meant to fight these so-called Akumas with, can you really blame him for falling in love?

So Adrien being Adrien starts flirting with this boy, non-stop, and it's not like he tells him to stop, no !! The boy, ScarletBug he introduced himself as, flirts back !! he indulges in Adrian's advances which springs a little hope in his heart, but also makes a certain Kitty mad

This wretched dog, just showed up out of no where! and is stealing her man!!

She gets so mad, she forgets to be nervous around Scarlet and here marks the start of a beautiful rivalry between Chien and Chat (maybe I'll have a play with the word chein for Adrien's superhero name)

This leads to them defeating the Akuma rather quickly and skillfully, bringing all surrounding citizens to awe as they watch this trio of Superheroes who work so well together and at the end, after Scarlet has purified the Akuma and Miraculous ScarletBug'd all the damage away, he extends both of his fists to new partners

the first 'Pound it' of many, even if this time Kitty and Adrian didn't do it to each other (they both have eyes only for Scarlet, they don't even take notice of each other)

until he bounds away that is, saying how he's about to transform and needs to hurry home and he rushes a quick goodbye and salute to them both before leaving

then the two left on the Eiffel finally take notice of each other's presence, glaring at each other with pouts on their faces and crossed arms

'Back off, dumb dog'

'He's mine, stupid cat'

'I saw him first!'

'I talked to him first!'

cue more glaring, growling and hissing until their ring/choker (omg I forgot the dog miraculous is basically a collar) beeps and reminds them they need to hurry back to class

so with a hmph from both kids, they hop down from the Eiffel and head off to detransform

masterpost

[sungbeam]

BIRD HUNT — two

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, blood, mentions of suicide but no actual act thereof, one suggestive comment

▷ word count. 4.3k // taglist. open

« prev · m.list · next »

FILE_02 : behind every man

gotham city.

[three days since your mother was murdered.]

You had no real friends or allies in Gotham City besides your mother and your extended family of stray cats. The metallic smell of blood had begun to cling to the walls after an hour of holding your mother's body close to you.

The police had come when you called.

They deemed it a suicide for simplicity's sake.

When you pointed out the note in a rage, they left it embedded in the wall as it laughed at you. Your hands were covered in your mother's blood like a morbidly crimson finger paint, and the damn cops weren't going to do anything about this. Not for someone like you. Not unless…

Not unless you used what you had in your arsenal.

It was stupid, you had thought at the time. It was an open invitation to get yourself thrown in the ringer by… oh Hell, you shivered so violently, it could be compared to a Magnitude 7 earthquake. No, you could never forgive yourself if you did that—the stupid idea popping into your head. And yet…

You knew that your mother would have never allowed you to sacrifice yourself so vulnerably. (The irony of the matter was that your mother would probably do the exact thing you were considering, had she been in your position.)

But by the third day of not leaving the apartment at all, you had made up your mind.

It was time to go see your father.

"We're investigating the murder of a mayoral candidate, Yeonjun, not a stripper."

Yeonjun rolled his eyes from where he sat in his armchair, legs crossed neatly over one another and his elbow perched on the armrest. There was a distinct look of boredom on his face as the flames of the fire in the hearth flickered across the sculpted grooves of his features. "Well, I know that. Strippers are more fun."

Soobin pretended he hadn't heard that. He pressed his index finger and thumb to his eyelids with a deep sigh. "So at least one of us has to be present at the company for the Choi-Palmer Merger. And at least one of us has to be present at the meeting with Commissioner Kim about the investigation."

"In unif—"

"In uniform," Soobin confirmed.

Beomgyu sipped his third cup of coffee this morning (it was approximately seven in the morning and he had a brief nap from one to two). There was something so addicting about the bitter taste and the buzz at the back of his head. He didn't feel like himself without it. Definitely not healthy, but he hadn't been healthy for a while. "You say at least one of us for both. So which one needs two of us?"

Yeonjun closed his eyes. "Why can't dad and Riki go?"

Soobin sent him a glare that Yeonjun pointedly ignored. "Because they're out of town? They've been out of town for a week, dude. Where have you been?"

"Serving justice," Yeonjun droned.

It wasn't difficult to sense the tension in the front parlor of the Choi Manor. There was always some sort of tension present, especially between the brothers. Riki never really dealt with it because they all had a soft spot for their half brother, and because Riki was too much like their father, Choi Minho, to care about what other people thought. It was no surprise as to why Riki was the favorite child. Soobin, Yeonjun, and Beomgyu had long since accepted it and wholeheartedly agreed. It was one of the rare few things the Chois could all agree on, actually.

Soobin strived to hold in another sigh. "Okay, fine. Whatever. I'll go meet with Kim to talk about what the Hell's going on this time." He slipped his phone out of his pocket to double check the details of the meeting and where it would take place. Usually, they would be in uniform under the cover of night, but there were exceptions. Plus, corruption nor crime waited for nightfall, so why should they?

Yeonjun nodded as he pushed up from his seat. He stretched his arms over his head, the popping of joints dull yet satisfying. "Cool."

As the two older brothers began to make their way out of the room, Beomgyu bolted upright. "Hey, wait! Who's doing the Palmer Merger?"

"You," Soobin and Yeonjun answered in sync—then promptly gagged to themselves. That was the cringiest thing they could've ever—

"Where the Hell are you going then, Yeonjun? There's no way you would entertain politicians," Beomgyu complained with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. "Even the dead ones."

Soobin's eyes narrowed at the slight dig at himself, but Yeonjun simply waved a flippant, uncaring hand. "I have a hot date."

Soobin scoffed. "With who? Your hand?"

Beomgyu didn't even bother suppressing his giggles of utter delight, especially when Yeonjun sent a look at his younger brothers. "You're both so rude—"

"Whatever you say, old man," Beomgyu jested. He picked his coffee cup up from the table and made his way past his brothers. "Have fun or whatever." As he walked away, his footsteps were so light that even in the hollow hallway, not even the dust stirred. His voice was distant and muffled as he called out for the family's butler and right-hand, Alfred Pennyworth, about what tie might go well with today's soon-to-be successful merger.

While he was away, Soobin clapped a hand on his older brother's shoulder as they too went down the hallway, but traveled further past the grand staircase in the foyer and into the chamber of a small elevator. "You know, Lee would murder you if you called your meeting with his girlfriend a 'hot date.'"

Yeonjun folded his arms over his chest. The elevator carriage began descending deeper into the manor's land to its subterranean levels. He scoffed. "Who said the hot date I was referring to was his girlfriend and not him?"

"Just marry him already," Soobin rolled his eyes, his head shaking.

The elevator came to a smooth stop, the door sliding open to reveal the massive, yawning cavern below the grounds of the Choi Manor. The squeal of bats echoed against the cool, stone walls and the LEDs installed into the ground and in select areas of the cavern roof blinked to life as the two brothers walked past them. It was a generous basement space that acted as headquarters for the family's alter egos as well as housed their vehicles. Beomgyu had called it the "Bat Cave" at one point, to which everyone in the family pointedly disagreed to. Their father was not pleased with it at all, but it had unfortunately yet gradually begun to stick.

Soobin stopped at a doorway that came up just before they would have reached the massive set of computer monitors and controls. He glanced over his shoulder to watch Yeonjun don a pair of matching brown leather gloves as he headed for the garage levels. "Hey."

His brother's split eyebrow quirked upward.

"Stay outta trouble, will ya?"

Yeonjun smirked. "I thought you knew me better than that, Bin."

Soobin huffed a sigh. He really couldn't control his older brother, nor his younger brothers, but he could definitely hope and dream. "At least wear a helmet, dickhead," he shouted after him.

The lights built into the perimeter of the runway shuttered to life as Yeonjun skipped up the steps to his beloved motorcycle. He cooed at his vehicle, hands gently caressing the handlebars and polished metal that he lovingly maintained. "Hi, baby. How we doin'? Can you hear that? He wants me to wear a helmet like you won't protect me."

"Oh my god, he's talking to it again." Soobin turned away from his strange, strange brother. He had much bigger fish to fry than worrying about Yeonjun. Contrary to popular opinion, Yeonjun could unfortunately take care of himself (most of the time).

Soobin pushed into the doorway and into the arsenal chambers. These were lit in dim, blue-white lighting—colors that Yeonjun and Beomgyu detested because of the clear "bias" toward Soobin and their father's uniforms, but Minho had simply rolled his eyes and approved the order for blue and white LEDs. There were separate rooms for uniforms, weaponry, and other gadgets that might be needed while out on patrol, but since this was simply a… conference of sorts, Soobin donned his black and blue uniform, along with the black domino mask fitted over the upper half of his face.

While Yeonjun was partial to his beloved pearl-handled pistols (and things that went BANG BANG, in general), Soobin preferred his escrima sticks—twin batons that were wired with tasers. Hand-to-hand combat and close combat was his specialty, and it was how his father had first taught him to fight. Everyone in the family could fist fight, but some preferred it and some didn't.

Once everything was in place, Soobin headed out to meet with Commissioner Kim about a man's murder. He hoped this wouldn't be a massive waste of his time.

You had never liked the look of the Iceberg Lounge. Its front door was like a rusted garage, and it was fixed below an active metro line. The train rattled on by every ten minutes or so and blew your hair behind and to the side of you as you monitored the exclusive club across the street from you. You had only ever been to the Iceberg Lounge a couple times, and that had been years and years ago when you had been pint-sized and your mother still acknowledged your father's presence. You wished you could carry on her routine of no longer acknowledging him, but desperate times called for incredibly desperate measures.

There weren't many ways you supposed you could break into the lounge without having to go through the front security. You could probably try to scale the wall to reach that one window way up there…

Or save yourself the trouble by simply going through the front. You sighed, clambering out of your car and making your way over to the front door, where a pair of big bouncers stood stationed outside. There wasn't a line, not when it was still day and there was too much risk of people recognizing other people.

The two men eyed you, and you them. You bet they could manhandle you if they wanted, but you flashed them your ID, and the one on the right lowered his mouth to his communicator. "Capo's daughter is here."

Ah, so he had been keeping an eye on you.

You were granted entry.

The smell of sweat and booze hit you like a massive gust of wind. The men behind you chuckled at the way you gagged, the doors slamming shut behind you. Your eyes shuttered like a camera lens in an attempt to quickly accustom them to the dimmed, blue-white lighting.

There weren't many people around at this time of day. You came upon a balcony railing that looked down to what you assumed to be a dance floor below. Above, you caught the gleam of the upper offices that overlooked the rest of the club with walls made of thick panes of glass. But your destination was further up, and so you made your way to a set of elevators to the left.

If you ventured down to the floors beneath the dance floor, you would find the VIP lounge—the real Iceberg Lounge. You remembered recognizing famous people you'd seen on TV down there before with scantily dressed women hanging off their arms like jewelry.

The elevator carriage brought you up to the top floor that opened up into a penthouse suite. Washed out white light poured through the window at the far wall and shelves of books and manuals and ledgers lined the walkway into the living space. There was a muted jazz tune playing from the record player in the far corner; you never thought your father would listen to jazz, really. He had always been a classical guy when you were young.

"It's been quite a long time—" You whirled around to find a tall, lanky man stepping out from one of the doors on the right side of the room. He wore crisp, black silk clothing, his face sculpted and well-kept. The hair on the back of your neck stood. "—but I suppose the phrase is 'better late than never.'"

You swallowed and steeled yourself. You didn't cry, you really didn't. "Mom—" your voice broke, "—mom's gone. I don't… I didn't know what to do or where to go…"

Your father hushed you as he enveloped you in his hold. You wondered in the back of your mind why he was so cold.

"It's okay, Yn. It's going to be okay."

You didn't cry. You really, really didn't.

But this was your mom. You loved your mom. "She's gone," you croaked into the expensive material of his shirt. "Someone killed her." There was a sort of grit in your voice from the congestion, but you liked to think it was passion.

His hand came up to smooth the hair at the back of your head in a sort of comforting gesture. You would take what you could get at this point. "Then they will pay, Yn. I will find them—you know I can."

You felt as cold as your father's body heat. "Do you know who could have done this?"

"I have ideas," he said quietly.

How was he so calm? You were close to shaking the information from him and going to deal with them yourself. Your father pulled away from you to take a look at your blank face. He placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you to the sectional and offering you to sit with him.

"You know I have my enemies," he murmured. He leaned against the back cushion, eyes glazing over. "I'm just sorry you and your mother had to suffer because of them."

"Who?"

He glanced at you. "I don't know who exactly—"

"Then give me options." Your voice had steeled again, like your resolve. You swallowed—but you were still just a scared, little girl. You knew your father had enemies, but he had double the amount of connections and triple the power. You would exploit it if it meant bringing your mother the justice she deserved.

"Would you like to help?" That piqued your interest. Your father lifted a hand. "I understand that this is dangerous… this is a dangerous world, but you can be even more dangerous, if only you were given the proper guidance."

Those words… you didn't realize how much they could send a jolt through your veins. You weren't sure if it was good or bad though. But at this moment, it seemed to be what you wanted to hear.

"Could we… could we have a funeral for her?" Perhaps that was one of the only things you wanted. That, and justice. And maybe for your mother to come back.

Your father's eyes shone—with what, you couldn't tell just yet. "Of course, Yn. We can have a funeral. That is a small thing." You wished you had known just how small it was compared to all of the things he would ask of you.

There was a vintage diner located far from the Choi Enterprise building and far from anyplace anyone would think to find a member of the prestigious family. That was why Yeonjun loved it so much. Plus, the waffles weren't half bad.

A plate of said freshly made waffles had just been placed before him when the bell above the diner door jingled its merry, little tone. He hummed in delight, dancing in his chair a little bit, as he fed himself a chunk of the waffle smothered in melted butter and sweet maple syrup.

"Ooh, that looks so good, Jun."

Yeonjun grinned as another chunk of waffle went into his mouth. He glanced up from his plate only for a second in greeting to his so-called hot dates. "Mhm, she's a beauty."

He dug his fork and knife into the waffle piece, moaning softly with his eyes closed. "Mm-mm! Hear that crunch? Music to my goddamn ears."

Felix Lee rolled his eyes, tongue poking his cheek through an ill-concealed smile. There was a young woman next to him, who was already sliding into the squeaky, red vinyl booth across from Yeonjun. She was pretty—that much Yeonjun knew. After all, he was the one to have introduced his best friend, Felix, to her. It took a lot of courage to give him away like that.

Felix himself was a blond—well, not fully blond, but—wait a second.

Yeonjun shoved his bite into his cheek. His eyebrows furrowed, and he gestured to the tips of Felix's hair. Said tips that were now burned a scarlet red. "It's red."

Felix slid into the booth beside his girlfriend, who most everyone referred to as Nana, and braced his arm over the booth behind her. "Good to know your eyes still work, Choi."

It was always so strange, the contrast between the little nose and freckles to the deep, ass voice. Even after years of knowing him, Yeonjun still did a double take sometimes. He supposed it was good for scaring the shit out of the baddies when they couldn't see his face, and they only heard his voice and felt the sting of his arrowheads.

"Don't give me that, Arrow Boy—"

"Just saying, Red Hoodlum—"

Nana hit the table with her palm. "Hey! Can you bozos wait until I've had coffee before you start your lover's quarrel?"

Yeonjun averted his eyes to his waffle plate, and Felix winced. "Ah, sorry babe." Felix flicked his wrist to signal a waiter. The kid who arrived was the same bored, overworked and underpaid one who had delivered this golden plate of Heaven to Yeonjun. "Can I get a plate of that—" he gestured to the Heaven, "—and two cups of coffee? But both with a bit of milk as well."

"Thank you!" Nana called after the boy after he gave a dull bob of his head in acknowledgement. She then settled her elbows on the shiny, white table and braced her chin on her hands. "How're you, Jun?"

"Great," he replied between bites. "Managed to dip out on company duties and 'good guy' shit—"

"A normal day," Felix added.

Yeonjun lifted a shoulder like a half-hearted shrug. He wasn't about to disagree. "So everything's comin' up—"

"Order up!"

Nana perked up as the waiter kid set down twin mugs of steaming hot coffee. The woman delicately blew over the scalding hot surface while her boyfriend scarfed the shit down like it was water. It was funny, Yeonjun thought as he watched the two of them. So different, yet so similar. Felix was usually quite sunny and polite, like his girlfriend, but sometimes Yeonjun brought out the worst (he liked to think it was their true best) in people. Felix was actually a neighboring city's own watchdog and resident bow and arrow enthusiast, Speedy.

Yeah, Yeonjun loved that name when Felix told him what his vigilante name was. Tch. Speedy. He bet that was exactly how one could describe their experience with him in—

"That's good coffee," Felix said as he set the cup down. Empty. He glanced over at Nana who had just finished stirring in a packet of sugar and took a generous gulp of her drink. "Cheap but good, hm babe?"

"Mm," she hummed in affirmation. She set the mug down. "Okay, okay. Shall we—"

"Here's those waffles." Another plate of Heaven touched down onto the table, was slid over to Nana, and suddenly the words disappeared from her tongue as she indulged in pure goodness.

Yeonjun finished off his first waffle and vaguely gestured in the air with his fork. "I'm starting to think the universe just doesn't want me to find my mom."

Felix shrugged. He turned his head, eyes still looking at Yeonjun, as Nana fed him a fork of waffle. He swallowed, then replied, "Maybe. But it's not like the universe has done you any favors."

"That is so true, my friend."

"Why do you say the universe doesn't want you to find her?" Nana queried between bites.

Yeonjun set his utensils down then drummed his fingers against his chin where he had braced against his palm. "Well, for starters, it keeps interrupting you."

"Well," she emphasized, "you can stop thinking that, because I found a trail."

His breath hitched.

Felix grinned at his friend's reaction, arms holding his girlfriend by her shoulders. "See? Isn't she so good? She's so talented, such a genius."

"Nana Lee—" Yeonjun began.

"Yeonjun, that is not my name."

"Hey, let the man speak! And what do you mean that's not your name?"

"—I love you so much," Yeonjun finished, hands clasped together in prayer. As for whom he was praying to… well, he believed in no god, only himself. And perhaps the woman seated across from him.

Felix narrowed his eyes. "Okay, bro."

"Chill," Yeonjun said with a pointed look. "Nana, please do tell me what lead you have caught and how I may repay you."

Nana shook her head at this. "Oh no, you're not repaying me, Jun. Not for this."

"Oh, come on," he protested. He nodded to his best friend. "Back me up."

Nana sent Felix a sharp look, to which he could only raise his hands in surrender. "Baby says no, I say no."

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes at Felix this time, face twisted into an expression of pure disbelief. "Oh my god, you simp. Every other moment I give you a chance, you're begging me for money."

Felix coughed as Nana's eyebrow flew upward. "I've changed my ways, babe."

"Mhm," she hummed in disbelief, then returned to her waffles. Sometimes Yeonjun wondered how this pairing even worked, and then he realized that he needed to give himself more credit. Because this pairing definitely worked. He suppressed a chuckle to himself, but he knew Felix saw the way his eyes were alight in silent laughter.

Shut up, the blond seemed to say.

And in proper Yeonjun fashion, he smirked. Make me. "So, the lead?"

"Oh, yes. Right." Nana swiped a napkin over her lips. "She was put in witness protection quite a while ago." Yeonjun and Felix paused their squabbles, both of them fully tuning into Nana's findings. "Usually, they don't release such records to the public for obvious reasons, so I don't know much about her new identity."

Yeonjun cocked his head to the side. "Much? So you know something."

"She doesn't live in Gotham," she said. She paused, considering something. "But again, I found a trail. It's faint, but a trail is a trail."

He couldn't agree more. "Send me it when you can."

Soobin found that domino masks were relatively comfortable. They were definitely more comfortable than the entire cowl thing that his father wore as the Batman, and they didn't make him feel like he was suffocating. The rooftop of the police headquarters allowed for lots of breathing room, so as he inspected the photos of the scene the commissioner had given him, he didn't feel like he was being caged in. Most of the time, he figured out how to shut himself off and to focus on the details and the job. Others… it was a little more difficult.

The man in the pictures had been murdered executioner style with a kill shot to the head at close range. The victim would have been at the mercy of his killer. There was blood spatter on the floor, the walls… all standard stuff. But the most curious thing about the scene was the note that had come with it.

"Hey." Soobin lifted his head up from the folder and pictures. A figure in lean, armored red and black touched down onto the roof with his grappling hook, feet as light as a feather. Beomgyu also had a domino mask fitted to his face to hide his identity. He made his way toward his brother, his black cape moving with his footsteps. "What'd he give you?"

Soobin shifted the images slightly so Beomgyu could tilt his head and see for himself. "That was quick."

"Yeah, Palmer didn't fuckin' show up," Beomgyu grumbled.

Soobin clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Guess we can say bye to him, then."

He grunted. "We better. If he comes crawling back, you're dealing with him because I'm not wasting another nicely ironed suit again for that idiot. Or Alfred's time, for that matter."

Soobin could get behind that.

"What the fuck's that?" Beomgyu picked up the photocopy of the note.

Right. That. It was a simple piece of paper, but with the words "A Debt Repaid" typed in large letters and basic sans serif font. There was a bit of the victim's blood on it, but that was expected. The note had been dusted for prints, but as expected, none were lifted. Based on this, it might have been a crime of passion, especially since this mayoral candidate would have made lots of political enemies. But looking at the method of death, there was something still detached about it.

Majority of the signs pointed to an assassin—a skilled killer of sorts, probably for hire. What Soobin couldn't hit the mark with was why? A Debt Repaid, was the supposed "explanation." But why? Who decided this man had offended someone so badly that he deserved to die? Soobin didn't like researching politicians, but politicians were so easy to dig up shit on. And if they deserved it (as most did), finding the shit and exposing them for it was always a job well-done in his books.

Justice, after all.

"A note from the killer," Soobin said plainly.

Beomgyu considered it for a moment. "Why does it look familiar to me?"

His brother turned to him. "Huh?"

"It just looks familiar for some reason. Maybe déjà vu or something," he dismissed with the flick of his hand.

"Mm." Soobin stared at the lifeless eyes of the mayoral candidate. His name was Lee Sungjae. He had a wife, three children, a house in the suburbs. And he was dead.

Guess he had some research to do. Soobin balked though; he really didn't like politicians.

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