#Sometimes I get confused which one did what comic

[barbie0303]

31 Days of Dick (Grayson)

Day 12. Nightwing comic artist

Dan Jurgens

Nightwing (1996) #126

Phil Jimenez

Wonder Woman (1987) #165

This two are tied for me because both draw Nightwing in a very similar manner, lol. I love that while Dick is drawn to look pretty, they still give him an air of maturity

[spamalie]

Nhhhhhhngh . Sumper bat

[lovingniamh]

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. locked in. ― Leah Williamson.

summary: you just cannot seem to tear your gaze away.

There’s only a limited number of ways one can keep themselves from chasing what they truly desire, and sometimes those ways can disappoint us. Right then, your feelings were brimming at the top of your mind, and no distractions that you tried to think of were holding a red stop sign to hold you back.

You had never realised how captivating one could be. Well, you could. You have seen her in rather many manners—a few in which you found daunting—and the images of her stuck playing on your mind, whirling around on repeat like a record. But this time, it felt intimate. Like she had finally been snapped into reality and noticed you, playing her role for you.

Your heart rate did not seem to get steadier as you tried so hard with the innocence you had left, and the scene in front of you only made your breath hitch for longer and your eyes grow hazier. God, she was gorgeous, and however many times you tried, you just couldn't remove your burning stare away from her. 

The buzz of the club was blurring around you; the obvious natter and thumping of the base were now in the back of your mind. All focus was purely on the blonde, and the blonde only—paralysed from the neck up with a sufficient source of longing and lust.

There was no going back now; you were now shoulders deep into your trance, and once her gaze caught onto yours, you were in fear of never breathing again as your thoughts encased your senses further. 

Nothing was to ease you away, talking with expressions across the private area that you had grown accustomed to over the years. Every time the team made their annual visit, she managed to become more alluring each time you met here—the recent winning glow adding to the tonne of beauty she radiated. Nothing seemed out of place, and you started to believe what you were seeing was just a dream—a drunken dream. 

It was with a blink that she caught on to your frozen state, obvious from the fact that you were not going to stand up and make the first move. With a few sips of liquid courage, you followed her eyes with every step she took, neither of you seeming to let go of the mesmirism you had locked in. 

Once you realised she was becoming increasingly close, your eyes were just about peeking through your eyelids by the time she made it in front of your cowering state, actualising that your thoughts had literally granted your wishes without a word. A slight taunting smile graced her lips as she stood above you before she smoothed the material of her trousers down as she sat beside you—your stare still caught onto her like a mouse stuck to the glue of a teasing trap and now, coincidentally, everything felt sticky.

She leant towards you once she had turned her body, her expression swelling with more amusement at your reaction. You felt the decency to lean further backwards, but she took a pinch of your top to stop you from doing so, continuing to place her face closer to yours. “I think you have won.” 

Still quiet, she edged away from you, analysing your expression as she bit her lip to hide a giggle at the minor furrow of your eyebrows, yourself still talking with your eyes as they glistened over with a sheer of evident confusion. 

“You can speak; you know, I don't bite.” She spoke into the indistinct silence that had appeared around the both of you, tilting her head to the side before you shifted in your seat, the backs of your thighs seemingly tacky against the material. Your mouth just parted before she cut you off again. “Unless you want me to, take it as a reward from me for winning the contest.” 

“What contest?”

“Oh, she speaks!” She gasped comically before lifting the lipstick-stained rim of her glass back to the designer, sipping and swallowing delicately. “You’ve always been quite reserved, haven't you? But never invisible.” 

“I-”

She swallowed the final bit of liquid from her drink before she continued, not until she wiped her lip with the tip of her finger before moving her hand onto the bare of your thigh. “Not in the way you think you are; do you think that I do not notice, y/n?” 

The fixation of your stares was finally torn in half as you took more fancy of the warmth of her palm, the tips of her fingers rounding the edge of the inside of your thighs. The mugginess of the room just grew ten times hotter as you calculated in your head the multiple different consequences that could occur, some of which you had been dreaming of for as long as you could remember. 

She had become fed up with your frigid way of flirting: “I’ve seen you, you and your glances, ganders, and gawks. You’re starting to become insufferable, y/n.” 

A wave of embarrassment washed over you like a tide returning, knowing the feeling all too well from past experiences. “I, um, I’m sorry. I just can't help myself. I promise I’ll stop-” 

“Who said I wanted you to stop?”

Squinting your eyes marginally, you voiced your interpretation: “You, you just said that I was basically a burden.” 

She shook her head softly, reaching up with the hand that was on your thigh to instead brush away the furrow in your eyebrow, her touch then trailing down to your cheek. “No, I said you were insufferable because you won’t act further. I’m tired of waiting, and now I have to make the move myself with the feelings you had first.”

Heart completely in your throat, you made an effort to try to remove it before you spoke, but your words came out with a squeak before it was gone: “You have... you have feelings for me?”

She scoffed, “More than just feelings.” 

Mouth agape, you peered around the room, trying to gather yourself away from the bomb the blonde dropped. A bomb that you had been begging to blow up now for a very long time, so why are you turning away? She gathered you back to her with a light touch of guidance under your chin. “I bloody well hope you still feel the same way.” 

“Kiss me.” You whispered, head lifted by her fingers still as your eyes pleaded for her lips to touch your own. A few blonde curls fell in front of her face as she took the chance, although she hesitated once her lips brushed gracefully against yours. The both of you shivered, goosebumps arising on your skin as you closed your eyes, awaiting more, but nothing came. You peeked one eye open to find her admiring your relaxed features, your impatience bubbling in your stomach. “Leah.” 

“Shh.” She placed one finger over your lips before tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You really are beautiful; did you know that?”

“Leah.” You caught her hand in your own, seeking home on your cheek. Your eyes found themselves back to square one; both your gazes bore into each other as the people around you became properly unknown and unnoticed. Totally forgotten.

She ripped into the silence before you and uttered, “I want you to kiss me.” 

Bringing your hand back into her grip, she transferred them to her cheek, and your mouth ran dry at how soft her skin was. A burst of desire overflowing your body had your noses beginning to nudge as you chased her lips with eagerness, predator to prey. A role you had never played before. 

You moaned in surprise at your own doing, relief flooding through your veins as you finally reached your true desire after hours, months, and years of pining after the English captain, but this time she told you what to do in a much different way. 

The kiss was feverish, and you had to keep yourself from clawing at her, sticking to one spot as you let your mouth do the work whilst she followed your steps. Everything and everyone around you were now completely withdrawn from your mind. It was Leah and Leah only, and god, how you wish you were, in reality, completely alone. 

When you thought she couldn't get anymore intoxicating, the bite she gave your bottom lip injected you with more lust for her, and you were obsessed with the taste of her. You wanted more, but before you could adjust yourself to press more into her, she pulled away. 

“That was more than what I was expecting.” Her breaths were laboured as she remarked, yourself not listening as you sought for her once more, beginning to get a hand with the whole dominance role, if that's what you would call it. “Easy, tiger. We can continue once we get home.”

a/n: been reading way too many Bridgerton fanfics lately, so, if the dialogue seems really formal, blame that. also, hiya !

© lovingniamh please do not repost, steal or translate my work.

[kalims]

— MALLEUS DRACONIA | pasilyo

or, sometimes you forget how many decades behind malleus is in slang. in comparison to lilia out of all people, he's like a very clueless innocent individual.

cw. very comical miscommunication (not the bad kind in romantic stuff heh)

wc. 1.4k

note. I can't stop thinking about malleus who really just doesn't get modern slang. this is a small treat ^^

can I get a 'heyy' from my fellow filo babes who know where the title is from

"no way," you gasp. "shut up!" a large smile encases your face, one that you try to contain with a futile cover of the mouth—malleus however jolts in confusion, his brows furrow in what it seems to be concern. he looks like a very confused, kicked puppy (or dragon?) overall.

out of expression, you slap his arm without a hint of aggression but he seems more bothered by your words than the.. hit that didn't seem to phase him at all.

malleus ponders deeply on what had gone wrong, and what he had said. you are laughing right now but your words sounded like you were upset (well not exactly your tone but your words itself,) he frowns, he feels very lost right now.

plus since you are his very special friend he despises you being upset. more so, him being the reason for it.

your laughing gradually decreases once you realizes that there's no one responding to you but the silence. a flicker of concern flashes in your eyes at malleus' very serious expression. "uh.. is something wrong..?" you ask nervously.

even though you're absolutely sure that he heard you malleus stays silent—tense as though he's being held hostage, looking more uncertain each passing second.

"hello?" you try.

you deflate. what is wrong with this man? where is the restart button? you cross your arms over your chest and raise a brow, at the still not speaking malleus.

at times you don't understand malleus and that's a given since even lilia had to go up to tell you that malleus was trying to impress you with fae customs but it's not like you knew that—and not that malleus knew the difference between culture of human and fae separately.

so yeah. there was no way you were gonna realize that the time malleus was trying to convince you to live in a tower with him was basically akin to a.. marriage of sorts? since married couples usually live in the same area, for fae it's the same.. or.. dragons? minus the ring and ceremony.

also apparently that was more important than an actual wedding ceremony?!

to others it was torture to watch you and malleus go back and forth—you trying to ask him out the normal, human way. and malleus trying to bound you to him eternally in the non-normal, fae way. you've lost count on how many times you heard sebek emit the most manly screech you've ever heard when he just so happens to stumble upon his lord..

doing.. courting rituals..

to you.

"M-MALLEUS-SAMA! HAS THIS HUMAN TRICKED YOU?!"

"WHY ARE YOU SHEATHING YOUR SWORD SEBEK—"

anyone could guess which scream belonged to who.

well whatever! point is tsunotaro seems to be unresponsive to you right now for some odd reason. have you done something wrong? (this is very ironic since malleus is also thinking the same.) all you did was slap his arm—oh my god did he get offended by that?

out of realization your eyes widen as your arms retract and hang by your sides uselessly. you look straight in his eyes and say; "I am so sorry," with furrowed brows and genuinely apologetic eyes malleus is struggling to keep up with your first request.

like that time he legit just stormed the diasomnia fridge, stole some poor student's tub of ice cream and high tailed it to your dorm because you were supposed to eat a cone yourself but was unable to due to the work load crowley had dumped you (honestly, what's new?)

so in a way it made you sad because damn was ice cream good. instead of it melting away your troubles it actually did melt instead.

because of some crow.

all just because he would go around the world for you if you asked.

(some cheesy part of you would imagine him going around you because how nice would it be if he saw you as his world? though if you did that to him instead and call him your world you reckon he'll take a few minutes of explaining before getting it.)

in the end malleus breaks. his will to oblige your request just fades in the back of his mind because he does not know why you're apologizing to him for no reason when clearly, he's the one that upset you! "my child of man.. you aren't the one at fault," he looks at you like he's sorry. "it is i,"

what.

now you're confused. "uh.. wait what?" didn't you just hit him? was he not mad about that even though your little slap probably didn't even make him feel anything? "didn't I just hit you?"

his face contorts into suprise. "oh really?" he mumbles. even though there's not much shock after you can tell he has no idea what you're talking about.

now you're even more confused! if he's not upset with that then what was he being all silent treatment about? malleus shrugs at you. "even so, I don't mind. you can hit me as many times as you'd like, I can take it," he says seriously.

you splutter. WHAT. you were literally just listening to him spill tea a couple minutes ago.. that sounds so wrong on many levels and you don't even wanna consider what he's saying because one, that's just weird! and two, sebek would literally strangle you.

and both you and malleus would not like you being strangled like that.

"what. just stop, please," you raise a hand and he immediately shuts up. "what are you talking about? you didn't do anything wrong." you deadpan.

this time he tilts his head. "you told me to shut up didn't you? so I merely did as you told—" he says casually. which baffles you all the more because this is starting to sound insane! did he actually take it literally.

malleus is so pure sometimes.

so pure that you can't help but stifle a giggle. and it takes you a couple of seconds of just containing your laughs to speak again. "i- pfft.. I was just joking," you manage to say in between laughs.

oh that was a joke? he should consult with lilia to tell him all about the current trendy jokes. "oh,"

you realize he probably didn't know what you were saying so you take it upon yourself to explain. "um.. it's like,, an expression of disbelief and uh.. amazement?" you explain. cringing at your horrible explanation, it just isn't your forte.

malleus still nods attentively. listening to every word you say. "I see, thank you. my child of man, I will make sure to utilize this new knowledge," he smiles at you in a way you just can't resist.

malleus is very endearing but..

that sounds.. kind of concerning.

ㅤ

and take it to play does he.

"malleus-sama, have you heard?" sebek chimes in with a certain glint in his eyes. lilia chuckles at the clear excitement of his dearest sun from the kitchen counter.

someone get him out of the kitchen.

malleus hums thoughtfully, should he get lilia to wrap the dinner for you as well? you must be hungry. "heard what?" he answers a moment later.

"the southern lights will shine upon briar valley this year. shan't we visit soon?!"

sebek is true though. if the southern lights really is going to shine upon briar valley then malleus would like to take you there. just so you could see the beauty of it. (and perhaps, he could spend more time relishing in the beauty of you and your existence.)

seeing it will be an experience for sure. though he's seen countless southern lights malleus looks forward to it this year.

plus.. his heart warms at the thought of his people being able to witness it.

a thought pops into his mind.

"shut up,"

malleus says it so monotonously, without any emotion whatsoever that silence stretches across the room in an uncomfortable fog, and if anyone listens closely they can hear crickets.

a cloud of shame washes over sebek's face as his mouth clamps shut. lilia pauses (saving himself from a deep cut because anyone can tell that he's cutting the carrots way too big.) and raises his brow.

"now malleus—,"

sebek bows repeatedly before bolting out of the room with a trail of stormy clouds following him comically.

"what was that all about? look at what you've done. you've upset sebek,"

that's what he thought with you as well. the things you've taught him is surely working right now, no?

ah yes.. next time you meet he should ask you about more of this strange languange.

note. MY FINGERS ARE SO TIREDD

not proofread

ko-fi

[tenelkadjowrites]

Wallflower - Part One - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Summary: Having not given much thought about your nerdy coworker, Seonghwa, all of that changes when you hear a rumor about his sexual prowess in bed. 

🌻 Word count: 13k

🌻 Genre & warnings: nerdy seonghwa with coworker reader. fem pronouns for reader. reader is drunk at one point. smut. some dirty talk. fingering, oral sex (reader receiving)

🌻 Tags are now moved to the bottom of the fic.

this fic is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way, shape or form.

               “Sorry, I know I’m late,” You say with a huff, plopping down in the chair, clutching your coffee in one hand.

               “What kept you?” Your coworker and friend asks, glancing at the time on her phone, “We got here ten minutes ago.”  

               “Sir Dipshit was busy boring me to tears about the sales numbers for this week,” You reply with an eyeroll, “What did I miss?”

               It’s Thursday afternoon as well as your lunch break. As usual, your group of work friends met at the coffee shop across the street from the office. Sitting outside on the patio, the sun high in the sky with a light breeze, it would be a perfect day if you didn’t have to return to work soon. Sometimes, being inside all day at that desk is a bummer…more often than not recently, it’s been an incredible bummer.

               “Nothing much, we were just complaining about the usual,” Your other coworker says before taking a sip of her green tea.

               It is a daily event to go to the coffee shop at lunch and complain about everything – your coworkers, the corporation you all work for, the daily tasks. It is a ritual, something that gets everyone through the day, including yourself although lately it hasn’t been helping as much as it used to.

               “We have that office ‘party’ this weekend,” You remind them which elicits a series of groans among the small group, “And Sir Dipshit made it pretty clear it’s mandatory to attend.”

               Your boss, otherwise known as Sir Dipshit, lived to work and worked to live. The man had no existence outside of dedicating his entire life to a corporation that wouldn’t care if he dropped dead tomorrow. The last thing you felt like listening to was a lecture for the next twenty years about missing the event. It ended up being less pain just to suffer through it.  

               “At least the booze is free,” One of your coworkers points out.

               “Remember last year when that guy in senior management drank way too much and threw up on the bar counter? I live for the moments like that at these events,” Another coworker sighs wistfully, “It’s so funny plus gives everyone something to talk about Monday morning.”

               At that moment, someone cuts across the street, heading towards the coffee shop. You recognize the person as Seonghwa, who is technically on the same team as you although he works on the tech side. You say ‘technically’ because you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him on one hand.

               One of your coworkers leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “Speaking of things to talk about on Monday morning, guess what I heard about the resident nerd?”

               Confused, you glance over at Seonghwa who is almost at the door to the shop. Today, he wears a white button up shirt with black suspenders, matching slacks and shoes. His glasses are almost comically oversized, black frames that rest on the bridge of his nose that seem too large for his face. The wind is messing up his sandy blonde hair which he keeps trying in vain to smooth down as he walks over.

               “Someone is talking about Seonghwa?” You say doubtfully, “What is there to talk about?”

               Seonghwa is the biggest nerd you’ve ever met and it isn’t just the suspenders and the large glasses that give you that belief. His desk is littered with the sort of items you’ve always associated as nerdy and he’s always reading some gigantic book based off some sci-fi or fantasy thing. He also works in software and coding or something which means you never understand what the hell he is talking about most of the time during work meetings and tune him out.

               “Oh, this is a good one, trust me.”

               Seonghwa notices the group then and gives a small wave. Everyone halfheartedly waves back as he goes inside. You really doubt the rumor is going to be anything interesting. Seonghwa seems relatively harmless and you’ve given him such little thought over the past two years working near him that you doubt anything could suddenly make him interesting.

               But your gossipy coworker looks positively gleeful as she goes, “You remember how there was that big conference everyone in tech had to attend two weeks ago? They all flew out for it?” When you and the others nod, she continues, “Well, apparently Seonghwa hooked up with one of the regional IT managers.”

               You raise one eyebrow. “Okay, and? The most surprising thing about this is that Seonghwa is getting laid.”

               At this, one of the other coworkers speaks up, “Seonghwa is a nerd but he’s good looking. That’s not really surprising.”

               “I can’t tell if he’s good looking cuz his glasses are gigantic,” You fire back, “I didn’t realize there were people sitting here who wanted to fuck Park Seonghwa.”

               Everyone breaks into bickering at this remark until your coworker with the gossip speaks up loudly to silence everyone. “Okay, shut up please. I am not finished!” Once all attention is back on her, which she is clearly enjoying, she drops her voice to a whisper. “Anyway, Seonghwa hooked up with one of the regional managers after that big party they have on the last night of the conference. She said she figured why not because she’s a regional manager on the other side of the country so she didn’t have to worry about awkwardness in the work place –”

               “Can you please get to the point sometime this century?” You interrupt.

               She shoots you a scowl before saying, “She said not only was Seonghwa the best fuck she ever had but apparently he has a gigantic dick.”

               “Bullshit,” You counter immediately, “No way.”

               This creates another round of bickering about if Seonghwa could really be the best sexual encounter of someone’s life. You are steadfastly against the idea.

               “What about the trope about nerdy guys with big dicks?” Your gossipy coworker argues.

               “That’s fanfic shit,” You fire back, “Maybe this manager has just one or two other people she’s slept with so Seonghwa is the best out of a small sample size.”

               “Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ and dicked her down so well she could barely walk right the next day.”

               “Yeah, sure,” You scoff, “I’m not saying she didn’t sleep with him but maybe she’s…jazzing the encounter up to make a good story.”

               It is then that the subject of the gossip exits the coffee shop. Seonghwa gives the group another small wave and this time looks perplexed when everyone bursts into giggles as they return the motion. But he continues back to the office, holding a coffee in one hand. You watch him go, shaking your head.

               “Sorry, I just don’t believe it. A wallflower like that being some dynamo in bed? No fucking way.”

*

               Back at the office, you glance at the clock. An hour until I can get out of here, you think. It wasn’t that you hated your job, it was just that it was super fucking boring most of the time. But the money made it worth it – at least that’s what you told yourself when the alarm went off in the morning and you wanted to hide under the blankets.

               Idly, your eyes scan the room, landing on Seonghwa’s cubicle. Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ and dicked her down so well she could barely walk right the next day. You scoff quietly before pushing away from your desk, wandering over to Seonghwa’s cubicle.

               He is studying something on the computer screen, slightly leaned forward with his back towards you. Your eyes look over the small space. There are some things you recognize – little decorations like small lightsabers – but a lot of things that you have no idea what they are from or what they represent. His cubicle is incredibly tidy, organized with each personal item displayed at such a way that makes it clear he has decorated the space for himself and not to send out a certain image to his coworkers. Cubicles, the original method of creating a carefully curated image to put out into the world before Instagram, you think dryly.

               You hover there, wondering why the hell you came over here in the first place. But before you can leave, Seonghwa must sense someone standing there because he looks over his shoulder. At the sight of you, his eyes widen slightly and he swivels in his chair.

               “Ah, sorry! Were you waiting there long? I didn’t hear you say my name.” He ducks his head apologetically.

               “It’s fine,” You reply curtly, “I was just wondering if you were attending that work party this weekend. I’m trying to get a head count,” The lie comes swiftly and easily without much thought.

               Seonghwa pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You study him for the first time, trying to see past the glasses, his messy hair and the dorky clothing. Seonghwa has always been slender, and tall, with almost a fragile delicateness to him. You’ve never given him much thought until now.

               “I plan to be there, yeah,” He says and then smiles brightly, “Are you going too?”

               “I am, yeah,” You grumble, “Anyway, thanks.”

               “You’re welcome!”

               You turn around, walking away from his cubicle. No, that didn’t clear up anything at all.

*

               As soon as it hits five, you shut the computer off and grab your bag, anxious to get the hell out of there. Sometimes, the office just felt so…small and suffocating. You wanted to get out immediately. Swinging your bag over your shoulder, you hastily walk towards the elevator. Half of the floor is doing the same with a few people staying late.

               Seonghwa is one of those. As you slow down your walking speed near his cubicle, you look in his direction. Seonghwa is turned to the side, flicking through a folder filled with papers. He looks focused, brow furrowed, as he tries to find something. His work lanyard sways slightly and his tongue is poking out a little from between his lips. He runs his fingers through his hair, paying no mind to how messy it already is.

               There is just no fucking way that rumor is true, you think again, frustrated with yourself for spending so much time mulling it over today.

               By the time you make it to the elevators, you have resolutely told yourself to put it out of your mind.

*

               “Do you want to go grab coffee?”

               “Girl, it’s ten in the morning. Little early for a break, you think?” Your coworker says in mild confusion.

               “Yeah, I guess so,” You mumble, “Didn’t realize it was that early.”

               “Anyway, I gotta finish up this TPS report this morning or Sir Dipshit is gonna have my head,” She pats you gently on the shoulder, “But we can grab coffee later, alright?”

               She walks past you quickly, already lost in thought. You stand there for a few seconds before turning around to head back to your cubicle. Seonghwa is walking across the room, heading towards the giant copier near the window. Today he has a light blue button up on with khaki slacks although the large black glasses still remain. Someone passes by him, saying good morning and Seonghwa looks up, smiling and returning the greeting.

               How can he look that happy here? You wonder, And how are his teeth so perfect looking? That’s something new you’ve noticed – his incredibly white teeth whenever he smiles.

               Before you can ask yourself what the hell you’re doing, you walk towards him. He doesn’t notice you at first, too busy fumbling with the copier that barely works properly on a good day. But when you get close enough, Seonghwa looks up.

               “Oh, good morning,” He says brightly, “How are you?”

               Something about his energy, his welcoming posture and his smile makes you feel exposed in some odd way.

               “I don’t want to be here,” You say automatically without thinking and then grow deeply embarrassed at your confession, “Sorry, I – hm. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s weird, right? I don’t know – I don’t know why I said that.”

               Seonghwa studies your face for moment and then replies, “No, it’s okay. Would you like to go to the break room with me and get a coffee? I forgot to have a cup before I came in.”

               Leaping at the excuse to not sit at your desk, you nod. Seonghwa glances at the copier and shrugs, giving up on making it work. You trail after him, wondering why in the world this rumor has made you seek him out yet again and why you just openly admitted to a relative stranger that you don’t want to be at work right now. I must be so fucking bored, you think.

               Walking a little bit behind Seonghwa, your eyes study the way the fabric of his shirt rests against his skin before looking at how his belt lays against his small waist. You try to imagine him fucking someone into the mattress but your mind comes up blank. The rumor being about this man in particular just doesn’t make sense.

               In the small break room, which is empty due to the time, Seonghwa begins to brew a pot of coffee, chattering the entire time. “I stayed here too late last night and I’m having a hard time getting going this morning. But I am hoping to finish this project before the weekend so I can move on from it. I feel like I’ve already spent too much time on it and I’m going to fall behind.”

               You sit down at the tiny break room table, making a small noise to indicate you’re listening.

               “I won’t have time to work on it this weekend because I had to move my plans around for that work party. Originally, I was gonna have my DnD session –”

               Confused, you speak up, “Your what session? What’s a….Do Not Disturb session?”

               This brings Seonghwa up short and he turns around, peering at you through his glasses. “No, my…Dungeons and Dragons session. You know?”

               You don’t know. You think you may have vaguely heard the name in the past because you have a mental image of people hunched over a table looking at a board game. It must show on your face because Seonghwa quickly keeps going.

               “But now it got moved to Saturday afternoon so I can make it on time which meant everyone else had to rearrange their schedules. Boy, I still haven’t heard the end of it.” He pours two cups of coffee, glancing over his shoulder, “Do you want cream and sugar?”

               You tell him your preference and he continues, “But the boss made it clear he’s gonna be pissed if we don’t go so I kinda feel like my hands are tied.” Seonghwa stirs your coffee and brings it over, resting it gently on the table before turning back around to make his. “I don’t really like work parties. I am not really a party person.”

               “You don’t say,” You retort dryly, unable to imagine Seonghwa at a club at all.

               He finishes with his coffee, sitting down across from you. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. He smells like clean laundry. There isn’t a single wrinkle in his shirt. Everything about Seonghwa is a mixture of nerdy and professional.

               “Sorry, am I talking too much? I get told I’m a chatterbox.”

               “You’re fine. I don’t have anything interesting to say anyway, honestly. I just…didn’t feel like working this morning, I guess.” You look down at the cup of coffee, wondering why you feel increasingly uneasy at your job as of late.

               Seonghwa falls silent for a moment and when you look back up at him, he averts his gaze quickly, clearing his throat. “It’s the routine. Gets to all of us. That’s why our free time is so valuable. You have to make it worth something to remember life is more than just…this.” He gestures to the surroundings. “You know, this is the most I’ve talked to you, I think. I know our jobs are pretty different so we don’t overlap a lot though.”

               You hunch your shoulders forward, blowing on the coffee. Some part of you just wants to ask him – hey, I heard a rumor you’re a great fuck and I don’t understand how a thing could be possible. But that would be out of line so you keep it to yourself. You doubt Seonghwa is even aware such a rumor is going around about him.

               Seonghwa’s smart watch beeps then and he looks at it before mumbling a curse under his breath. “Sorry, I forgot I have a call I need to be on in five minutes,” He stands, “But I’ll see you around?”

               You are staring at the way that his long, slender fingers are curled around the disposable coffee cup. Were his fingers always that…dainty?

               Seonghwa says your name and it snaps you out of your staring, looking up at him. “Right, yes. I’ll see you around. Thank you for the coffee.”

               “It’s no problem,” He gives you a small wave, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts.

*

               If there is one thing you’ve been increasingly disliking lately, it’s your job. The second thing? Staying late for the job. It is ten minutes past five and the anger you feel sitting at your desk while listening to Sir Dipshit is enough to make you shriek.

               You aren’t even sure what he is talking about. It began as a lecture about some e-mail you missed this morning and has now turned into a diatribe about his own day and how busy he is.

               You are trying to pinpoint when your job started feeling like a weight around your neck. You make good money. You work for a major corporation that offers job security. You have your own place. Everything is neatly lined up. But blurting out to Seonghwa, of all people, that you didn’t want to be here this morning has made you start to really think. And you aren’t sure that you are going to like the answer.

               As if conjured up by thinking about Seonghwa, he pops out of his cubicle with his bag, getting ready to leave for the day. As he brings his bag strap up around his shoulder, his shirt tightens for a split second against his chest. You blink, wonder if you just hallucinated how the fabric pulled against hard muscles. Seonghwa looked like he could be shoved in a body of water and his wet clothes could take him down. Thinking there was some hot body underneath all those clothes is just you creating things out of boredom.

               His eyes land on you and he gives you a small smile. Sir Dipshit is oblivious, still going on. You’ve made making sounds of interest while not hearing a single word an art form at this point. To your surprise, Seonghwa walks over to you, nodding his head over to Sir Dipshit.

               “Hey, I’m really sorry to interrupt but its ten minutes past five and I need to discuss something with her on the way out today,” He makes an apologetic face, “Sorry boss, I hope that’s alright.”

               Sir Dipshit looks mildly startled as if being woken up out of a deep sleep. For fucks sake, even his brain goes on auto pilot with boring everyone to death. You aren’t about to turn away a rescue and quickly get out of your chair, grabbing your bag swiftly.

               “Oh yeah, that’s right. That thing –”

               “Right, that thing,” Seonghwa says, nodding vigorously.

               “The thing with that call tomorrow! Yeah, let’s talk about that on the way out. Have a good night, sir,” You shoot this at your boss before turning around to walk out as quickly as possible to Seonghwa.

               “Alright, uh, good talk!” Sir Dipshit calls out after you, “See you tomorrow at the party!”

               Your back is to your boss as you rapidly press the elevator button. The doors glide open and you hurry inside as Seonghwa follows who immediately presses the button to shut the doors on the slim chance the boss wants to follow. He waves jovially until the doors shut.

               “Thanks,” You say, “Was it that obvious I was trapped?”

               “I just know how long he can talk for.”

               “Nice touch there with the ‘ten mins after five’ thing.”

               “Yeah, figured I would slide that in there and remind him the work day was technically over although honestly, I don’t think it stuck.”

               “Probably not but I still appreciate it. Can’t stand how much Sir Dipshit talks.”

               Seonghwa laughs at this, “‘Sir Dipshit’?”

               “Oh, you haven’t heard that one? Yeah, it’s just what we call him.”

               “I’ll have to keep it in mind.”

               Seonghwa smiles at you, the sort of smile that feels as though you are standing directly underneath the summer sun as it warms your skin. The elevator doors open and the two of you walk across the main entrance hall of the building which still has a few people buzzing around.

               “You park in employee parking?” You ask him, “What spot are you?”

               “Oh, my place is close enough that I bike to work,” Seonghwa replies as he slides his bag straps onto his shoulder so it is now a backpack, his thumbs slipping underneath the straps as he holds onto them.

               The sight of him in such a pose makes you think of those movies in which the nerds always walk like that. The only thing he’s missing is some tape around the middle part of his glasses. It strikes you once more how Seonghwa is just so not your type. Maybe the regional manager in Wherever the Hell city went for nerds like him but not you. No wonder she thought fucking him was the best sex of her life – Seonghwa is a walking nerd stereotype.

               “Oh,” You say, mostly because the idea of biking to work seems so foreign of a concept, “I have to drive like twenty minutes or so to my place. You don’t have a car?”

               “I do! It’s just…a gigantic piece of shit so I try not to drive it too much. Trust me, my bike is safer most times,” He replies, holding the door open for you.

               “Thanks,” You say, stepping out into the evening air.

               The sun is dipping behind the city skyline which makes you feel wistful. It seems like such a shame to spend all day inside.

               “Well, I should head out now. I wanna pick up this new Lego kit that got released today. It’s of an Imperial Star Destroyer and I placed a preorder on it months ago.”

               “Legos? Like those…building kits? With the blocks?”

               “Yup,” He says cheerfully, “I love building Lego kits. It’s relaxing and keeps my hands busy.”

               Reflexively, you glance at his hands wrapped around the straps of his bag. You swallow hard, feeling weird for some reason.

               “You uh…like keeping your hands busy?” You say and immediately regret saying something that could be perceived as flirting.

               But Seonghwa seems clueless to any potential interpretation and just nods. “Yeah, I also like painting those miniatures for DnD, you know?”

               You absolutely don’t so you just give a non-committal nod. You picture him painting a tiny teapot or something, a look of avid concentration on his face as he worked, the tip of his tongue poking out as his long fingers hold onto a small brush.

               “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” He says, nodding his head at you, “Have a good night.”

               “Yeah, you too.”

               Seonghwa turns around, walking confidently down the sidewalk to the other side of the building where his bike must be waiting. You watch him as he goes, taking note of how his legs take long strides and people subtly move out of his way. Once he is gone out of view, you slowly make your way to your car, unlocking it and sliding into the driver seat. You stare at nothing in particular, wondering why you feel the way you do. It’s a mixture of dread at the work event tomorrow, anger that your little time away from the office is spent with people from the office, and something else that you cannot pinpoint.

               It’s relaxing and keeps my hands busy.

               “You’re really losing it,” You say aloud to yourself and start the car.

*

               The rain smears the lights of the bar, distorting the building into a dark, grey smudge. You have delayed going inside for ten minutes now, struggling to motivate yourself into yet another ‘team event’. A few years ago, you didn’t mind these things. They were a bit dull but still manageable. But now, you can’t ignore the pit of dread in your stomach at spending more time around people you already spend too much time around.

               With a small intake of breath, you get out of the car, scurrying quickly to the overhang before you can get too wet. Then, as if preparing yourself for battle, you exhale slowly and open the door.

               You’ve arrived an hour late, something that you know Sir Dipshit will take note of, but it proved an impossible feat to get there on time given your mood. Your band of coworkers notice you immediately, waving you over.

               Your eyes scan the crowd as you walk over, greeting them. It is too early in the night for anyone to be drunk yet and so the air is stiff, slightly formal, with top 40 pop radio playing a little too loudly.

               “Fuck, you’re so late,” One of your coworkers says, “We were just wondering if you were gonna blow it off.”

               “And I said you wouldn’t because Sir Dipshit would never let you live it down. And also that if you didn’t at least tell us you weren’t coming, we would be pissed.”

               “Right,” You reply, not listening very much at all.

               “Hello?” Your gossipy coworker waves her hand in front of your face, “Who are you looking for?”

               “What?” Startled, you look around at the table, “I wasn’t looking for anyone. Just was seeing who was here.”

               “No one interesting, if that is what you’re hoping,” chimes in one of your coworkers.

               “Although,” Your gossipy coworker leans forward, lowering her voice, “Seonghwa is here tonight and I’m bored enough to want to see if the rumors about him are true.”

               “He’s here?”

               Your coworker motions in his direction with her drink. You follow to see Seonghwa at the bar alone, nursing a water. No one is talking to him but he doesn’t seem to mind much. He’s idly bobbing his head to the music while checking something on his phone.

               Tonight, he’s wearing…are those yellow suspenders? You groan inwardly. His shirt is also a very pale yellow with small blue buttons. His pants are a soft grey, a belt looping around his waist with his shirt tucked in. As usual, his hair is a bit of a mess. He looks like a total dork, you think dismally.

               “Looking tragic as usual,” One of your coworkers remarks with a giggle, “Please tell me you’re not actually going to try to have sex with him.”

               Your gossipy coworker shrugs. “I mean, that rumor is pretty alluring. Maybe his nerd act is just a front and there’s something nasty lurking underneath.”

               Your brain flashes back to him making you coffee in the break room, not minding it was ten in the morning or the fact you had blurted out that you didn’t want to be there. You suddenly are bored of the conversation and bored of talking about Seonghwa as if he is unauthentic.

               “I’m gonna go get a drink,” You murmur, leaving the table and all their discussions of Seonghwa and what he is like in bed behind.

               To your chagrin, Sir Dipshit sees you and waves you over. In no mood to talk to him, you wave back, pretending that you don’t understand he is trying to beckon you. At the bar counter, you order something, mentally calculating how much time you can spend here before leaving and not hearing any complaints from either your coworkers or boss.

               As you wait for the drink, you idly glance down the bar. Seonghwa is all the way at the other side. Someone is talking to him although you don’t recognize who. He seems engaged in an easy conversation, his shoulders relaxed. He shakes his hair out of his eyes and leans back against the bar counter. The shirt tightens against his chest and upper arms –

               Okay, you’re not hallucinating. Seonghwa definitely is in shape judging by the muscles pressing against the fabric. You swallow hard, your eyes trailing down his stomach to his waist.  

               She said not only was Seonghwa the best fuck she ever had but apparently he has a gigantic dick.

               “Ma’am?”

               Snapped out of your thoughts, you turn your attention to the bartender who has clearly tried to get your attention multiple times. Mumbling an apology, you take the drink. Your cheeks feel a little warm so you take a swig, liking the way it burns on the way down.

               You are looking for your gossipy coworker, wondering if she was really going to try to sleep with Seonghwa. For some reason, the idea of having to listen to her talk about it makes you wanna scream and you aren’t even sure why. But the growing crowd has swallowed her up. Why do I give a shit if she has sex with Seonghwa? I barely thought about the guy until that rumor anyway.

               “Hey.”

               The voice startles you, lowering your gaze directly in front of you. Seonghwa stands there. Up this close, the lights of the bar lay across his skin as if cozying up to him. He still is holding onto his water, his long fingers circled around the cup casually. You swallow, looking away from his hands.

               “Oh, hey, Seonghwa,” You try to think of something to ask that isn’t tied to the rumor about him and his big dick, “How was your…uh what was it again?”

               “DnD?”

               “Yeah, that.”

               “Well, the group was still upset we had to shift the time back and the session was cut to six hours.”

               “Six…hours?”

               “Yeah, we usually aim for…maybe eight or more, depending. Enough to make good progress in the campaign.”

               You have absolutely no idea what the hell he is talking about so you just nod.

               “Hongjoong, oh sorry, that’s my best friend, well, we were supposed to do a dungeon today and he was upset cuz we didn’t finish it like we hoped cuz San’s bard got cursed so that sorta derailed everything.”

               “The bard got cursed,” You deadpan.

               “Yeah, Yeosang didn’t roll high enough so we got sidelined by dealing with that. But I mean, that is just part of the campaign right? It’s Jongho’s first time being dungeon master and he’s spent weeks putting this whole thing together. We weren’t sure how it was going to go because typically Hongjoong is the dungeon master but Jongho really wanted to try it.”

               You have understood exactly two or three words the entire time Seonghwa is speaking but you are actually kinda relieved to be talking about something that has nothing to do with work. Taking another swig of your drink, you think of a question so Seonghwa will keep going.

               “Do you do this every week?”

               “Oh no, it would be too hard to try to have everyone’s schedule sync up weekly. There’s eight of us, after all. So sometimes a couple times a month – that’s what we shoot for.”

               “Oh there you are,” Your coworker interrupts, slinking up with their empty glass, casting a glance over at Seonghwa before looking at you knowingly.

               Their expression makes you feel defensive although you can’t pinpoint why. Flustered, you say, “Was just getting a drink.”

               “Hi Seonghwa,” Their smile is slow and lazy across their face, “How are you?”

               If Seonghwa has any idea as to why they are acting odd, he doesn’t show it. He just smiles in that bright way of his, greeting them by name. Your nerves are buzzing underneath your skin and you gulp down the rest of your drink before turning to the bartender, motioning for another one.

               “Wow, making sure to take advantage of the free bar,” Your coworker quips in a tone that you mislike – in fact, you are starting to question your friendship with everyone in this entire building.

               “You know it,” You mumble although your coworker doesn’t hear.

               Seonghwa, however, does, and the look he shoots in your direction makes you feel as if he is rooting around in your brain and seeing every dreadful thought you’ve ever had.

*

               Two hours later, you are drunk.

               It is a mistake and you know it. You’ve never gotten drunk at a work function before. It’s unprofessional, for one, and secondly, drunk people at work parties tend to always make asses out of themselves.

               But wow! It made talking to everyone so much easier. The mundane conversations about work slide through your brain like a lazy river in which you mentally bob in. Your coworkers, who are rehashing the same gossip they have all week – which unfortunately means more discussions about Seonghwa’s sexual prowess in bed – are pleasant hummings in your ear that you steadfastly ignore.

               At some point, you have found a quiet corner that is near the bathrooms and the back exit. Slumped against the wall, you close your eyes as the floor wobbles unsteadily underneath your feet. You’re going to have to either Uber or ask for a ride home from a coworker. Neither sounds enticing but since you can’t drive, it’s your own fault. Surely, two hours is enough time here. Sir Dipshit will be too swept up in the drunken dancing that has started on the dance floor since everyone is now feeling intoxicated enough to embarrassingly do that in front of one another.

               “Fuck, there you are. I’ve spent ten minutes looking for you,” Your gossipy coworker has suddenly appeared, ruining the solace of the spot you’ve found, “I’m bored and heading out. I tried talking to that Seonghwa guy a couple times and it’s like listening to paint dry. No sex is worth that. Are you coming with me? You clearly can’t drive,” You’re staring at your shoes and don’t reply. Your coworker huffs, “It’s really not like you to get plastered at these events. You’ve been acting so weird for months now.”

               “Sorry,” You mumble although some part of your brain is annoyed that she is bringing this up now when she is well aware that you’re not sober.

               “It’s fine, whatever. Just make sure you get an Uber or something, alright? We can get your car after work Monday.”

               You hear the click clack of her heels as she saunters off, leaving you alone again. You’re feeling sleepy. It tugs on your brain like an annoying child. If the world stopped spinning for half a second…well, until then you will stay right here.

               You aren’t sure how much time actually passes but someone’s shoes come into view next to yours as you stare at the floor. Surprised, you raise your head and find yourself looking at Seonghwa. A new song kicks up, with a heavy bass that seems to thrum up along your spine and into your brain.

               “Seonghwa,” You mumble, blinking a few times to make yourself appear less intoxicated.

               It doesn’t seem to work because he goes, “Hey, are you alright?”

               For some reason, lying to him doesn’t enter your mind. “No. Also, I’m drunk.”

               “I sorta gathered that,” But there is nothing mean in his words, it is just merely noting a factual observation.

               Your hazy gaze focuses on Seonghwa. He appears to be perfectly sober. You recall him drinking water earlier. Good idea. You should have done the same. Now, a headache that is thumping in time to the music is beginning to grow louder. Your eyes drop down across the curve of his neck to his shoulders down to his small waist and you swallow, closing your eyes for a moment to banish whatever the hell is going on with you.

               “Excuse me,” Someone says, storming past the two of you to head to the bathroom, colliding into Seonghwa as if he isn’t even there and pushing him towards you.

               But your reaction speed is terrible, slowed by the alcohol and when your hands go to his abdomen to stop him from colliding, it is like an electric current snapping all the way to your thighs. Seonghwa is extremely close but there is no booze scent clinging to his clothes. And to your utter shock, the skin underneath your hands is firm and toned. Fuck, you think dizzily, see, I wasn’t making it up. But it didn’t matter if Seonghwa was fit or not – he just simply is not your type. You barely understand what he’s talking about most of the time.

               He says something then but the music is too loud as is the rushing of blood to your head. His lips move, lips that are way too pretty and plump, by the way, not that you care, and you shrug, unable to hear what he is asking. He looks inquisitive but you’re distracted by how lithe and slender he is. Too pretty! Not your type! You scold yourself.

               “Do you wanna dance?” You blurt out, cutting whatever he is saying off.

               His eyes widen through his thick frames. Your hands are on his waist now and the two of you are almost pressed against one another. His cheeks are slightly flushed with just a hint of colour and when he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobs. He replies but you give a frustrated shake of your head.

               “I can’t hear you!” You shout, probably way too loudly.

               Seonghwa leans forward, centimeters from your body. He is bringing his face towards your neck and your heart skips a beat so intensely that for one drunken second you worry it’s going to pop out of your chest.

               “I don’t really dance,” His voice seems to fill up your entire brain, taking over every sense you have, the cadence of his speech making your head swirl.

               You think about the rumor about him and for the first time, maybe because you are drunk, allow yourself to wonder if it is actually true. There are lots of stereotypes about nerds – and not just that they have big dicks like your coworker said. There is the stereotype of them being virgins, fumbling around with no knowledge as to what to do. You just assumed Seonghwa belonged in that group from the little interactions you’ve had with him.

               But if you were wrong…

               When he pulls away, his face is near yours. He looks shy and when he glances downward, you know he is looking at your hands on his hips. You wonder if he is hard, wonder if you pulled him against you if you’d feel his big hard dick against your thigh. Your eyes flick to his hands, nervously flexing at his sides. Without the sober shield filtering out the thoughts you’ve been trying to steadfastly ignore since the rumor landed in your ears, you think about how fucking long his fingers are and how they’d feel buried in your cunt. For someone who isn’t your type, it sure is difficult not to want him.

               Seonghwa pulls away then, tugging on the collar of his shirt for a couple of seconds. Your hands fall away from his body, his absence like a bucket of cold water being dumped on your head.

               “You’re drunk,” This sentence is loud enough to hear – although is it directed at you or a reminder to him?

               “I heard a rumor about you,” Your words are slurred.

               “About me?” He says incredulously and then goes, “Should I call you an Uber?”

               “Is your shitty little car here? Can you drive me home? I don’t…” It’s so difficult to concentrate in here. “I don’t feel safe being drunk in an Uber. I feel safe with you.”

               The admission would take you by surprise if you weren’t spending a ton of energy in trying to stand upright. You’re so tired and the booze is tugging you downward.

               Seonghwa looks taken aback but he nods. “Yeah, I drove here tonight. I’ll take you home.”

               “Thank you,”

               He glances at the crowded bar and gives a small shake of his head before pointing to the back exit. “Let’s go this way.”

               You slur out some sort of affirmative answer as Seonghwa carefully leads you out into the night air. The fresh air makes your head spin and for a split second, you worry about throwing up. Luckily, you keep it together and Seonghwa takes you safely around the side of the bar towards his car.

               “Wow, what a piece of shit,” You remark at the sight of the rust bucket.

               “‘She may not look like much, kid, but she’s got it where it counts’,” Seonghwa recites as he unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for you.

               Swaying on your feet, you go, “Are you quoting something at me?”

               “It’s from Star Wars. Well, episode four, specifically.”

               “Right, I knew that. I saw that one. I think.” You manage to get into the car without making a complete ass of yourself.

               Seonghwa ducks his head inside to bring your seatbelt across from you, buckling it in securely. Some of his hair falls in front of his face while doing so and you can smell the faint hint of jasmine.

               “You smell good,” You mumble, “What shampoo is that?”

               He chuckles softly, pulling away and closing the door, walking around the car to slide into the driver’s seat. His car is clean even though it’s so old that it has a CD player. It also vibrates a lot as if the engine is trying to escape.

               You rest your head against the back of the seat, so tired that you are going to doze off any second. Synthwave music plays quietly as Seonghwa snaps in his own seatbelt.

               “What’s your address? Hey, don’t fall asleep yet on me.”

               You tilt your head in his direction, opening your eyes. He is looking at you with his fingers curled around the steering wheel. You wonder what it’d be like to sit in his lap. You wonder what noises he makes when he is turned on.

               "I heard a rumor about you,” You say again sleepily.

               “Yeah, you mentioned although I don’t know what anyone has to say about me. What, do they say I LARP or…still use IRC or something?”

               “Dunno what either of those are.”

               In the darkness of the car, the lights from the radio and CD player dance across Seonghwa’s skin. You want to pull on his suspenders when you ride him. Your thighs clench. You can’t recall a time you’ve been this horny recently and it’s over the nerdiest guy to ever work in the office. Something is totally wrong with you, as confirmed by your coworker earlier in the night.

               Seonghwa angles his body towards you, one hand still on the steering wheel. “Then what is it?”

               A very tiny logical part of you is trying to get yourself to shut up. But the much larger drunken part of you is not thinking clearly, is not even thinking ahead a little bit at all so you blurt out, “There’s a rumor going around that you’re really good at sex.”

               Seonghwa’s eyes widen so large that you might as well fall into them. It’s too dark to know if he is blushing but he turns away from you, staring out the front dash of the car.

               Oblivious to whatever he might be feeling, you continue, “And also that you have a big dick.”

               “W-what?!” He exclaims, still unable to look at you.

               “Right? That’s what I said. I said…no way! No offense.”

               He is silent, mulling this over. In fact, you are almost half asleep by the time he replies carefully, “That’s why everyone is talking to me this week. I was wondering why…I just thought…I don’t know what I thought…” He sounds almost dejected and it makes you feel sad. “I mean, including you.”

               Suddenly feeling ashamed, you try to say something but the words come out garbled because your drunken brain doesn’t jive well with the sudden panic that hits you.

               But Seonghwa shakes his head, brushing the word salad to the side. “You’re drunk so we won’t talk about it now.”

               You go quiet as does he. The silence seems to stretch into infinity. You want to apologize but he isn’t wrong. You did start talking to him because of the rumor. Maybe that makes you just as bad as your gossipy coworker debating having sex with him. But then you think once again of the kind way he made you coffee, and the fact he had you exit the bar from the back so everyone wouldn’t see how drunk you are. You weren’t lying when you told him that he made you feel safe. But you’re just too drunk to try to formulate any of that into words.

               Your eyes close, losing the battle against sleep. You are distantly aware of Seonghwa asking for your address again but it’s too late and you drift off.

*

               When your eyes open next, they are looking at an unfamiliar ceiling, your head is throbbing and your mouth is so dry that your tongue is stuck to the roof of it. With a small groan, you sit up slightly, trying to remember what the hell happened and where you are.

               You’re in someone’s bed which would be alarming if you weren’t still completely dressed in your clothes from last night. The only thing missing are your shoes since you spot your large purse next to the closed door. The bed sheets smell clean and you aren’t even under the covers, just laying unceremoniously on the top. There is a dresser on one side of the room that has a familiar looking robot built out of Lego parts resting on the top.

               It’s the sight of Legos that bring a whole slew of memories back to you. The drinking, your coworkers discussing Seonghwa – oh God, Seonghwa. You recall the way he looked, how he felt so close to you, him offering to drive you home and then –

               You groan again, burying your face in your hands. Fuck, I told him about the rumor, my big drunk mouth. He had looked crestfallen, hadn’t he? He must have assumed the random uptick in people talking to him this week had been for a reason but not for that…

               Including you.

               The words he uttered bounce around in your head, the guilt sliding around in your stomach like disgusting jelly. For a split second, you think you’re going to vomit because of the hangover but manage to hold things down. Very carefully, you swing your legs out of bed and stand up, closing your eyes as your head throbs painfully.

               Stopping only briefly to look at a bookshelf in the corner that had the largest and nerdiest assortment of books possible, you open the bedroom door and step out into the living room.

The living room is just a tidy space, clean and comfortable. The window shows the blue sky and the tops of trees, indicating you’re not on the ground floor. There is a stack of books on the glass coffee table. A large PC is near the window with three monitors. Another small table near the front door has a low hanging light over it, littered with paints and miniatures alongside multiple Lego boxes on a smaller shelf.

The couch has a pillow and a blanket on it. Another stab of guilt hits your chest. He had given up his bed for you.

               You hover in the doorway, taking in the fact that the living room is somehow exactly what you expected and not at all.  Slowly, you walk across the space towards the kitchen where you find Seonghwa. He is making coffee and looks up at the sound of you entering.

               “Hey,” You say quietly, “What uh…time is it?”

               “It’s a little past ten. So, not too late. Would you like some coffee?”

               “Would it be alright if I took a shower? I don’t want to impose. It just helps with the hangover.”

               Seonghwa is in an oversized Star Wars long sleeved shirt and sweatpants. His socks have odd looking dice on them that you don’t recognize. His large glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as usual. It’s the first time you’ve seen him wearing something other than business attire.

               “Sure, let me just get you the towels. Uhm, would you like some clothes? I can dig out some older clothes of mine, if you’d like.”

               “Yeah, thanks.”

               A few minutes later, Seonghwa is handing you towels, a large black shirt with a faded design on it (from a video game, he explained) and sweatpants. You rummage around your purse to dig up your emergency Stayed The Night makeup bag. This was the first time you were using it after just sleeping over at a guy’s house and not having sex with him. But you’re glad it’s in there since it has toothpaste, a small toothbrush and some other items you need.

               It’s always a gamble going into any man’s bathroom, and it is with a tentative push of the door that you step inside. However, just like the living room, it is clean and organized. Seonghwa even has actual skincare products by the sink. The shower is clean with high end shampoo, conditioner and body wash (also all in separate bottles!).

               Underneath the hot water, you wash off the night before. You wash off avoiding Sir Dipshit, you wash off the fact you feel disconnected from your coworkers, you even wash off your gossipy coworkers remark about how you’ve been different.

               But you can’t wash off the expression your drunken brain still remembers when you told Seonghwa the rumor. And you can’t wash off the way you felt around him last night when you asked him to dance nor the thoughts you had about him. You haven’t been that turned on around someone in so long. It’s cuz you were drunk, you argue with yourself. Seonghwa just isn’t your type.

               After the shower, you dry off, finish cleaning up and change into Seonghwa’s clothes. The shirt is soft, well worn, baggy on your frame and the sweatpants are a little long. But they smell nice and are comfortable. You stare at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers over the fabric. I need to make things right with him. He’s a nice person and he’s been kind to me and now he thinks I only started talking to him because of the rumor.

               And to make matters worse, that’s the truth.

*

               Seonghwa is sitting on the couch, two cups of coffee perched on the table. He has a book open in his lap, reading quietly. Tentatively, you sit down opposite him, reaching for the coffee while peering at the cover of the book. It’s some Star Wars book. It looks older than you expected, well worn, and there’s a man has blue skin with red eyes on the cover.

               “Thanks for letting me use your shower…and your clothes. And uh…for getting me here safely. And for taking me out the back way so no one saw I was being a messy drunk.”

               Seonghwa rests the book next to his coffee, picking up the cup and taking a small sip. The silence is starting to feel awkward now and you wish he would say something.

               So, you decide just to leap into it. “Listen, about what I said last night. About the ah…. rumor.” Your cheeks feel warm from just mentioning it. You never thought you’d actually be discussing this with him.

               Seonghwa’s hands wrap around the cup as he looks shyly down. His lashes are long, longer than when you spend too much on an overpriced mascara to try to get the same effect.

               “Can you…explain how you heard something like this about me?” Seonghwa asks quietly, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

               You push through how awkward this is going to be and tell him the entire story of how your coworker mentioned it over coffee. By the time you are done, Seonghwa has turned a deep crimson, his coffee long forgotten after being placed back on the table because he is so embarrassed. Silence hangs in between the two of you for a minute or so. You don’t press him to speak, figuring he deserves some time to sort out how he’s feeling about the entire thing.

               “It’s true that I went to the conference and slept with that regional manager. I figured since she lived across the country, it wouldn’t really matter,” He squirms uncomfortably, “I didn’t think she would talk about it and I certainly didn’t think it would spread all over the office. I didn’t know why there was an uptick in people talking to me this week. I didn’t ever dream it could be tied to…that. When it came to us…I guess I thought…uhm maybe you and I were becoming friends.”

               You feel a pang in your chest and move closer to Seonghwa, trying to salvage the conversation. “We are friends,” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you know they’re true. Maybe the two of you are very different but Seonghwa still makes you feel safe and seems to see you in a way that everyone else is missing.

               But he looks doubtful. “But you only started talking to me because…” He glances at you only for a split second. “Were you trying to…I mean…you and I…” He trails off, wringing his hands together.

               You stare at his hands, swallowing. No, you’re not my type. I was curious but there isn’t any attraction there, is what you want to say. The words would be so easy. A quick band-aid over a situation that has gotten out of hand.

               “That explains last night. Before we left,” He mumbles bashfully, “I thought maybe I was reading too much into it but you wanted to dance and…” He can’t finish his sentence again but you don’t need him to; you still clearly can recall how it felt to be that close to him and all the lascivious thoughts that popped into your head. You also can’t deal with the fact Seonghwa was worried he was reading too much into it when you were obviously all over him.

               You feel stuck. To tell him that you hadn’t thought about him in that way last night would be a lie. But to tell him would be admitting aloud to yourself that Seonghwa, the nerdiest guy you’ve ever met, is someone you’re attracted to. You’ve been protesting the entire time, to your coworkers, and to yourself that Seonghwa isn’t your type and you don’t see him that way. But…

               You feel nervous which is strange because you can’t recall the last time you were nervous around someone you found attractive. But Seonghwa, who seems to be as fragile as fine china, is in your hands at this moment. One wrong move and you’re going to drop him and make things even worse.

               “Well…uh…usually, you know, I don’t go for the…nerdy type.” Would he be insulted by that? “I was curious because I couldn’t picture such a thing. Like you…being like that. In bed. With the…you know.” You gesture vaguely, unable to mention his rumored big dick again now that you’re sober.

               “Right, yeah, of course,” He says quickly, too quickly, “I get that. And I know what people are like when drunk. Not thinking clearly.” Seonghwa looks as if he wants to flee which only makes you talk faster.

               “But you were so nice to me. With the coffee. I’ve been…struggling with work lately.” That puts it mildly. “And you were there when I needed someone. And I wasn’t…lying. Last night. When I said that I feel safe with you.”

               He looks a little more comforted by this, enough that he is looking up at you through those long lashes.

               “But I also…You know…uhm…” You trail off, unsure how to word the next part. Seonghwa looks at you curiously. God, it would be so easy to lie and let him believe I was just drunk last night and that was the end of it, you think.

               In fact, any regular person would leap at the lie and use it as a cover. But Seonghwa is still wringing his fucking hands together and you keep watching his fingers and you can’t believe it but you think you’re getting wet again – and this time you can’t blame booze. His entire posture, a mixture of tense and awkward, is strangely endearing. You quickly wonder what he would sound like in bed again and then try to banish the thought.

               You’ve been quiet for so long that Seonghwa gently goes, “You were saying?”

               But you aren’t really sure what you’re saying. Naturally, that means you keep going. “I do…wonder. If…maybe you’d want to…as friends…with benefits. Because like I said you’re not my type but my body seems to be like…reacting to you…ever since I heard the rumor. And I want to know if the rumor has merit.”

               Wow, amazing. Fantastic speech. Not only were most of your sentences unfinished but you basically asked Seonghwa to have sex with you just to see how your body responds like it’s a science experiment.

               Seonghwa is turning red again. His voice is slightly hoarse when he replies with, “Are you – ah. Are you asking to have sex with me? As friends?”

               “Y…yes.”

               Seonghwa’s breathing quickens and he looks away for a moment. You immediately want to crawl in a hole and hide.

               “I’m sorry,” You say hastily, “I don’t know what’s come over me. I tell you we’re friends and then immediately ask you for sex after offending you with some ridiculous rumor.” Your hands grip your knees, bracing yourself to stand up and to get out of here as quickly as possible. “Listen, I’m going to get my stuff and go. I’m just gonna Uber back to my place, don’t worry about it –”

               Seonghwa’s hand suddenly rests gently on top of yours. The touch knocks the breath out of your lungs. You stare at the sight of his long fingers extending over yours, his hand warm against your skin.

               “Okay,” is all he says quietly.

               Hardly daring to look up from the sight of his hand, you lock eyes with him. He is still blushing but looks resolute.

               “Uhm,” You exhale, “Sorry, I’ve never started a sexual encounter like this before.”

               “Me either,” Seonghwa shifts nervously and then says, “How about I just kiss you and if you like it, we can keep going? If you don’t feel anything, then it’s just the rumor clogging your head.”

               “S-sure.”

               Seonghwa carefully raises his other hand up towards your cheek, brushing against your skin with the back of his fingers. You shiver at the small touch, staring at him as he shifts closer to you. Acutely aware of how utterly surreal this is, you can only look at him as he cups your cheek. He grazes your lips with his thumb and your lips reflexively part at the touch. Your entire body feels as if it is tingling.

               You try to tamper down any expectations when Seonghwa leans forward to kiss you. You’re expecting the kiss to be awkward and messy in that unskilled way. You are waiting for him not to know what to do with his tongue and just roll it around in your mouth. Then, you’d tell him thanks but the rumor obviously had taken over your mind and it is better to remain friends without benefits.

               But then Seonghwa’s lips do touch yours as you close your eyes. It is a jolt to all your senses, white noise in your head as he kisses you so gently at first that you could imagine the touch. Your breath catches, heart rate accelerating as the kiss continues. His hand resting on top of yours gives a small squeeze, his other hand trailing to the back of your neck.

               You can feel yourself melting into the kiss, the tension seeping out of your body as Seonghwa’s tongue slips inside your mouth. There is a heat blossoming in your chest as your thighs clench. He trails small circles against your skin on your lower neck, making you shiver. Your tongue is against his now, your hand moving upwards to grip the front of his shirt, crumpling the Star Wars image up in your fist. He makes a small noise that only spurns you on more. You pull on the shirt so that he is closer, sliding into his lap, straddling him on the couch.

               Something drives you forward with reckless abandon, throwing caution to the wind and replacing it with desire. Seonghwa seems to mirror your feelings, his hands moving to your lower back, wiggling underneath the shirt to touch your bare skin. He presses down slightly, pushing you against him.

               You can feel the bulge in his sweatpants now and with a jolt, you think that maybe the rumor about the size is going to be true. Your hands are in his hair, his soft blonde locks curled around your fingers as the kissing continues.

               Your hangover is now a distant thought; making out with Seonghwa seems to be a miracle cure for a headache. Instinctively, you grind your hips against his bulge and he inhales sharply. His hands move to your ass, gripping the tender flesh there in his hands in a silent urge for you to keep going. You rock your hips against him, your pussy soaking wet. So much for just a kiss, you think dryly, marveling at the way your body responds to Seonghwa.

               His phone suddenly rings, jolting you a little by the noise. He glances over at it – it is on the kitchen counter – and gives a small shake of his head.

               “Ignore it,” He mumbles and you don’t mind doing that at all, resuming the kiss easily.

               The phone falls silent. Seonghwa’s breathing is heavy, mingling with your own, and kissing is becoming not enough. You want more and when he begins to kiss down your jawline and your neck, you reach behind you to take one of his hands and bring it forward, guiding him underneath the band of your sweatpants.

               He doesn’t hesitate now that you’ve given silent permission. You’ve been thinking about his hands ever since the rumor made you turn attention towards him and now Seonghwa presses his palm against the front of your underwear as his lips find yours again.

               You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. When the kiss breaks, you take in the sight of Seonghwa, breathless, his chest rising and falling quickly. His cheeks are tinted pink and his eyes are wide behind his large frames. You think about the times you’ve taken note of him in the past – a couple seconds of walking past him quickly in the hallway, not paying any attention because he came off as such a wallflower or zoning out when he talked in a meeting because you never could understand what he was saying and it made you feel stupid and insecure, and even the couple of times you giggled over someone making a joke at his expense. And now here you are, in his lap, with his hand against your cunt and every nerve in your body screaming for him. Jokes on me.

               Seonghwa pushes your underwear to the side, his fingers probing your folds as he leans forward and kisses you again. The sensation of his fingers touching you is making you dizzy. From this angle, it’s too difficult for his fingers to enter you which is about the only thing in the entire world you want at this moment.

               Muffled because of the kissing, you mumble, “Will you – your fingers –”

               To your surprise, Seonghwa smiles for a second against your lips. You pull away, just enough to see his expression. “What?” You ask.

               “Nothing, I just…I noticed you looking at my hands a lot the past few days.”

               Now it is your turn to feel embarrassed. “Oh, I…” You don’t really know what to say. It’s difficult to think when all you want is him.

               “Here, sit next to me,” He pats the space next to him and you slide off his lap.

               Seonghwa then gets on the floor in front of you, reaching upwards and sliding your sweatpants off your hips, leaving you in just your underwear and his borrowed t-shirt. He brings two fingers to the front of your underwear, pressing down on the fabric. “Well, she said he ate pussy like a champ.” Your coworker’s words bounce around in your head as Seonghwa removes your underwear and pushes your legs open so that you’re spread out in front of him.

               It’s a bit surreal to be in Seonghwa’s apartment on a Sunday morning, sitting on his couch half naked, with him on his knees in front of your pussy. His hands grip your thighs, pushing your legs apart as far as comfortable. You stare at the way his fingers dig into your skin, wanting nothing more than to have them buried in your cunt just to see what it feels like.

               But he leans forward and very carefully, using just the tip of his tongue, he flicks it across your swollen clit. You shudder, gasping but Seonghwa keeps a firm grip on your thighs to keep you spread in front of him. He doesn’t stop, using the tip of his tongue to stimulate your clit. Your hands grip the cushions of the couch, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight of Seonghwa’s tongue brushing against your nub. His eyes are closed and no matter how much your body shakes from the pleasure, his hold on your thighs doesn’t lessen, keeping you in place.

               You are cursing loudly, taken aback by just how good he can make you feel with the tip of his tongue. His pace steadily increases against your clit. Your hips buck but he doesn’t stop, his tongue expertly dancing over your sensitive nub.

               Distantly, you are aware his phone is ringing again. But he doesn’t stop and you aren’t about to bring things to a halt for a fucking phone call. You thought Seonghwa would be messily rolling his tongue around – or even worse, just focusing on your hole and wondering why you couldn’t finish. The rumor saying he could eat pussy seemed as ridiculous as all the other aspects of what your coworker told you.

               Forcing your eyes open, you look down at Seonghwa working your clit. There is something sexy about how he looks, with his eyes closed, using just the tip to make you feel this good, and his hands holding you in place. Even his glasses, usually something you found so dorky before, look good on him now.

               He still hasn’t put his fingers inside you but your climax is rapidly approaching. You want to try to tell him you’re close but speaking is impossible. All that leaves your mouth are garbled noises of pleasure and occasionally you whine out his name. Your knuckles are white from gripping the cushions and your orgasm suddenly begins, hips bucking but Seonghwa holds them down.

               Your head rolls back against the couch as the pleasure overtakes you. Your entire body tingles, skin incredibly warm. Seonghwa slows down as you cum until your hips lower back down. Only then he pulls away. Breathless, you can’t even look down at him because your body feels heavy from how intense the orgasm was.

               Seonghwa releases his hold on your thighs but quietly goes, “Leave your legs spread, I want to see your pussy.”

               It’s the first time something vulgar has left his mouth this entire time and it turns you on. Having talked to Seonghwa only a couple of times very quickly prior to this week, you never thought you’d hear such a sentence from him especially directed at you.

               Finally, he brings his fingers to your cunt, spreading your lips open slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

               You think you reply but it comes out a bit garbled.

               But Seonghwa takes it as an affirmative and goes, “Last night, when you asked me to dance…what were you thinking about?” To your amazement, he actually looks shy after asking even though he just made you cum thirty seconds ago.

               This meant you had to form words now, an arduous task given the circumstances. “I was wondering if you were in shape because sometimes the way your work clothes looked on you…and I was thinking about if the rumors about you were true. And…” You swallow, “I was thinking about your fingers and how long they were.”

               As soon as the words leave your mouth, Seonghwa slides a finger in your hole, making you gasp in both relief and surprise. He looks a bit satisfied and you realize he must have known you were thinking about his fingers and just wanted to hear you admit it.

               “What do you think?” He murmurs, “Does it feel long?”

               His finger is completely buried in your cunt and he wiggles it slightly, making you clamp down around it instinctively. Seonghwa’s eyes move upwards to look at you, taking in the sight of you whimpering and clearly wanting more.

               He inserts another finger while going, “Does it feel how you thought it would?” Slowly, he moves his two fingers in your cunt, and you can hear how soaking wet your hole is.

               You watch, entranced at the sight of Seonghwa’s long and slender fingers pumping in your cunt. Each time he pulls them out, you can see your juices smeared across his skin before he pushes them back inside. He wiggles them each time they are buried in your hole and it feels so good that you don’t think you can talk. You try to move your hips in time with his fingers but his other hand keeps your hips down against the couch.

               The phone is ringing again. You’d wish it would shut up already. Seonghwa seems too dazed to even notice, staring at your cunt swallowing his fingers.

               “Is that the sort of thing you were thinking about? How my long fingers would feel in your tight cunt?” He asks softly, “You’re really tight. I don’t know how I’m going to fit inside you.”

               The confession catches your breath because he is teasing you now, skirting around the rumor about his big dick without showing you.

               “You can barely take my fingers. You think you can take another one?”

               “Yes,” You breathe out, “I can. I can take your cock too.���

               “We’ll see about that, baby,” He murmurs and the affectionate use of ‘baby’ makes you shiver.

               Another finger dips into your hole as Seonghwa finger fucks you. His pace has steadily increased but with three fingers, you can feel your hole jammed full of him. He’s right, you are tight and you don’t know how you’d take his apparent big cock but the universe knows you’d be trying.

               Seonghwa leans forward and wraps his lips around your clit while finger banging your hole as much as your cunt allows. You groan, the pleasure spiking, your hand grabbing onto his blonde hair as he finally releases his hold on your hips. This allows you to grind your pussy against his fingers as he sucks hard on your clit. To your amazement, you know that you’re going to cum again already. He doesn’t let up on your clit or your hole, his fingers making obscene noises from how wet you are. When he wiggles them inside you, it’s enough to make your brain hazy with pleasure.

               You curse as your second climax begins. You can feel yourself gushing around his fingers, your juices smearing all over his fingers down to his palm. You’re grinding against his face, probably making a mess on his glasses too for all you know but cannot stop yourself. You’re moaning and whimpering, your head pressing against the back of the couch as the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

               Collapsing against the couch when the orgasm begins to fade, you can hardly catch your breath. Your entire body tingles. You cannot recall the last time you had someone make you cum that close together. You didn’t even know it was possible.

               Opening your eyes, you look downwards at Seonghwa. He has pulled his fingers out of your hole and put them in his mouth, tasting you. His glasses are slightly askew and messy in the most pornographic way. His tongue swirls around his fingers. The entire image is immediately burned into your brain.

               The phone rings again. Annoyed, you glare at it on the counter. “Should you answer that?” Not that you don’t want to hop on his dick immediately but the mere fact they won’t stop calling makes you worry something bad has happened and you’re keeping Seonghwa from it for your own selfish reasons.

               “I should although admittedly I don’t want to,” He replies, standing up.

               The bulge in his pants is evident and large. You hope the phone call won’t take long so you can jump on him. It’s amazing how he’s made you cum twice already but you still want more.

               He looks at his phone and frowns. “It’s work,” He directs this at you before answering, “Hello?” A long pause as someone rambles on the other end. Then, “No one else can help you with this?” More silence, more rambling from the other end. “No, I’m just…I’m in the middle of something, that’s all,” He mumbles, shooting you a glance, “Yeah, I get it. No, we don’t want that to happen. Yeah, give me an hour, alright?”

               Your stomach falls as Seonghwa ends the call and looks chagrined. “I’m sorry. I gotta go into the office. The new guy fucked up the software update push and it’s gotta go out today before everyone else comes back tomorrow.”

               You distantly remember a meeting two weeks ago about a software update but since it had more to do with Seonghwa’s side than yours, you spaced out. That had been happening a lot lately.

               Still, you suddenly feel shy and embarrassed, quickly snatching up your underwear off the floor. “Right, yeah, I get it.”

               “Let me drive you home on my way in,” He says hurriedly, scampering back over as you slip your underwear back on.

               You really don’t want to Uber after being half fucked, in another man’s clothes, slightly hungover so you accept. Seonghwa looks relieved; he is jittery like he expects you to be mad over the fact he has to go to work. He sits down next to you, looks as if he is going to reach for your hand and then has second thoughts.

               “I’m sorry again,” He says.

               You want to laugh. Seonghwa, the least likely guy on the planet, just made you cum twice and he’s apologizing? You aren’t even sure for what. You reach up for his glasses, gently removing them from his face. He looks confused.

               “You might wanna clean these before you go in,” You say quietly and he realizes the state they are.

               He blushes, nodding. “Y-yeah, good idea. Thanks.” He takes the glasses back, scurrying off to get cleaned up for work.

               You sit there, torn between confusion over where exactly this left you and Seonghwa, how a guy like him could make you feel so good, and what happens next.

               Well, you think, at least I know one part of the rumor is definitely true. He really can eat pussy like a champ.

PART TWO HERE.

🌻 Tags: @thewonderofkpop - @obligatoryidolblog - @yunhofingers - @foggyinternetchaos - @multiland - @whatudowhennooneseesyou - @jess-1404 - @just-here-to-read-01 - @likexaxdaydream - @senpai-of-doom - @lilhwahwa - @btsreader12 - @talkbykhalid - @pyeonghongrie-main - @inneratinyrebel - @8tinytings - @cherrypandora - @almondmilkeu - @kitten4sannie - @hwalysm - @revehosh - @mulletjoonsupremacy - @byungaji - @erensluut - @singularity777 - @hwa-whiskers - @luxvatz - @seonghwasstar - @eyesonlyformingi - @rxnexxi - @rosealie05 - @xirenex - a couple of you couldn’t be tagged so i’ll message you separately, sorry.

[bri-cheeses]

Jerseys vs. Hoodies - Part 2

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 730 | Part 1 can be found here |

-

“I. Am. Famished,” Barty announces as soon as he catches sight of Evan and Regulus, who are still sitting in their little booth in the library. They haven’t talked much since the whole jersey-hoodie incident, instead choosing to work quietly.

At least, they had been working quietly until Barty showed up.

He brings his usual amount of life and energy with him as he flings himself onto the space next to Evan, then slumps down so that his legs reach out far underneath the table.

He has the hood of his sweatshirt up, Evan notices with a small amount of fondness, making him look softer than usual. It’s cute, and Evan wishes that he could tell Barty that just because he wanted to.

But, of course, he can’t say that, so he settles for a simple, “Dinner’s in half an hour, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“But Evie,” Barty whines, “a half an hour is a whole thirty minutes. Do you really want me to starve to death?”

He looks up at Evan with a pout on his face, and Evan’s lips twitch into a smile at the sight. Why does he have to be so… Barty? It just hurts sometimes, that’s all.

“You’ll manage,” Regulus chimes in from the opposite side of the table. His essay is almost done, perfect cursive taking up six and a half sheets of paper.

Evan looks down at his own, which is currently only at four pages, and sighs. It’s going to be a long night for him.

“Merlin, you two are so mean.” Barty slumps even further, this time leaning to his right so that he can rest his head against Evan’s shoulder. The unexpected gesture startles Evan, causing him to look down at Barty in surprise.

“What?” Barty asks, tilting his head up to make eye contact with Evan.

Those eyelashes should be illegal, Evan thinks.

“You just… surprised me,” he murmurs.

Barty smiles and nuzzles further into Evan’s shoulder.

It’s so domestic that Evan could cry—at least, until he could until he catches sight of Regulus’s unimpressed face from across the table.

“Bee,” Evan says, wanting to get Regulus back for ruining this one nice moment, “have you noticed Reg’s fashion statement for this evening?”

Evan regrets having said anything almost as soon as Barty lifts his head, severing that point of contact between them, but it’s worth it to see the way Barty’s eyes widen as he takes in Regulus’s outfit.

“Is that a Gryffindor jersey?” He asks incredulously. “You know that they’re the enemy, right?”

“Enemy is such a dramatic word,” Regulus mutters.

“It’s the right word,” Evan assures. Regulus cuts a glare towards him.

But Barty is not to be distracted, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Where did you even get a Gryffindor jersey in the first place?”

Evan starts to laugh—this is, after all, the best part.

“It’s Potter’s,” Evan tells him.

Barty turns toward Evan with wide eyes, looking back and forth between Regulus and Evan. His expression is so comical that if it were anyone else, Evan would assume they weren’t being genuine. But it’s Barty, and this is just how he is.

“Really?” he finally squeaks out.

Reg sighs. “Yeah. Surprise.”

“I—wow. Just… wow. When did that happen?”

“None of your business,” Reg snaps.

Barty narrows his eyes at him and Evan can sense this turning south, so he quickly supplies, “Reg’s very private, Bee. It’s not anything personal and you know it, so don’t get mad at him.”

Barty huffs. “Fine. But I’m still curious.”

“I know,” Evan soothes, “but we’ll find out soon enough.”

Regulus looks at him sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Evan just pantomimes zipping his mouth shut, and Barty cackles joyously.

“This is gonna be fun,” he laughs, leaning back into Evan. Evan catches Barty’s weight easily this time, glad to have his warmth back.

“I’m going to kill you both if you decide to get involved,” Reg threatens.

At that, Barty gasps dramatically and clutches onto Evan’s arm, sending a swooping sensation through Evan’s stomach.

“Save me, Evs,” he pleads. Evan pats him on the head with his free arm.

“Of course, Bee,” he sympathizes. Barty wrinkles his nose at the patronizing gesture but tightens his hold on to Evan’s arm regardless, contrasting with his facial expression.

“Merlin, you two are hopeless,” Regulus mutters under his breath.

-

(Part 3)

[fatecantstopme]

Trust Changes Everything

Pairing: Nick Amaro x Reader

Summary: Let's get frisky...It's smut for smut's sake.

Warnings: Cursing, use of pet names. SMUT, definite dom/sub vibes, orgasm denial, restraints, blindfold, oral (M receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), fingering.

"Hola hermosa," your boyfriend said softly as he came to wrap his arms around your middle. "What'cha cooking?"

You leaned back into his warm, strong embrace. "Technically, I'm baking."

His lips pressed sweetly onto your exposed shoulder. "Mhm...what'cha baking then?"

"Chocolate chip cookies for Amanda's birthday tomorrow."

"Such a considerate friend, querida," he murmured.

You hummed in response as you turned in his arms to face him properly. "You're home early."

"I missed you," he said with a cheeky smile.

You chuckled softly, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a soft kiss. "I missed you too, but why are you actually home early?"

"It's possible I feigned illness so I could come home."

"Nick Amaro!" you chided. "The squad is short-staffed as it is and I was out today too and--and you're kidding."

He grinned. "I love it when you get riled up."

"I hate you," you grumbled.

"Sure you do."

You glared at him, which only made him laugh harder. It didn't help that you were significantly shorter than him, making your anger almost comical.

"It was a slow day, so Liv graciously sent me home early to check on you," he finally admitted.

"She didn't need to do that. I'm feeling just fine."

Nick raised his eyebrows, clearly not believing you. "You felt poorly enough to call off from work this morning, which is not at all like you...but you want me to believe you're magically all better now?"

"I'm not sick, Nick."

He sighed softly and brushed a lock of hair out of your face. "Not physically, perhaps, but you had a very rough morning querida. I worried about you all day."

You shrugged. "Just nightmares, Nick--it's nothing to worry about."

He took your hands in his. "It's my job to worry about you. That case was rough and it hit you harder than anyone else. So if you wanna talk about it..."

"I'm fine, mi amor," you insisted. "I don't need to talk about it."

He nodded. "Well if talking is off the table, I have some other ideas to help you relax and get your mind off of things."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

He brushed his body against yours, allowing you to feel the heat emanating from him. "It involves your gorgeous naked body on my bed, some scented candles, and perhaps some massage oil."

You smiled at him. He always knew what you needed when you wanted to relax--and he was right on the money as always. The only issue was you didn't actually want to relax. You wanted to work out your frustrations over one of the most difficult cases of your career...and that meant something very different than what he had in mind.

"As lovely as that sounds, Nick, I'm in the mood for something a bit...rougher."

He looked a little surprised. "Rougher? Like what?"

Nick was a very gentle and attentive lover, always making sure you were completely satisfied in any sexual encounter you ever had with him. You loved his sweet, giving nature, but sometimes you wanted him to fuck you absolutely senseless.

Nick tended to take on a very soft dominant role in the bedroom and normally that was exactly what you needed, but you didn't want him to be soft tonight. You needed more from him--in ways the two of you had not yet explored together.

"I want you to take complete control--use me for your own pleasure. I don't even care if I cum, I just want you to feel satisfied."

He looked a little confused, so you elaborated further.

"Give in to some of your darker fantasies, Nick--treat me like I'm nothing more than an object for your gratification."

"Querida...I-I'm not sure I can do that."

You felt a little crestfallen, but you understood. It wasn't in his nature to treat you that way. "It's okay."

"Hey," he murmured, warm hand lifting your chin so he could look into your eyes. "Is this something you really want?"

You nodded vehemently. "Very much."

"Have I--have I not been satisfying you in bed?"

"Oh god no, Nick. Please don't think that. I love the way you love me, the way you make me feel. You're an incredible lover. It's just that sometimes I need something more--something to ground me in a way only a lover can."

He looked relieved, but still a bit unsure. "You know I'll do anything for you, (Y/N/N)."

You nodded.

"I just don't like the idea of taking advantage of you or hurting you--I don't want you to think I get off on that stuff or it's who I am or something."

"Nick, we've been together for six months and I've known you much longer than that. I would never think you capable of either of those things, okay?"

He nodded, clearly appreciative of your reassurances. "Okay, so...what do I do exactly?"

"Whatever you feel is right. Just trust your instincts. I'll tell you if I'm not into it or if I need to stop."

He nodded again. "Safeword?"

"Pineapple, as per usual."

"Alright. Promise me you'll use it if I do something you're not feeling."

"I promise."

"Good girl."

You watched as Nick's demeanor shifted from the loving man you knew him to be to a domineering presence you'd only seen him don at work. You couldn't deny the rush of arousal straight to your core, the anticipation alone making your knees weak.

"Strip and lay on the bed, face down." His tone left no room for questioning, and you raced to do as he'd demanded.

You laid face-down on the bed and waited for his next move. You heard him enter the bedroom and stalk closer to the bed. Suddenly, you felt the cool, silky fabric of his tie wrap around your face, blinding you completely.

"Is this okay?" he murmured.

"It's very okay, Nick," you confirmed. "Don't ask, baby--just do. I want to feel like you're in complete control."

He tied the silk tightly around the back of your head and leaned forward to growl lowly into your ear. "Count, (Y/N)."

You knew exactly what he was going to do next and your body shivered with anticipation. You felt his hands slide down your back, coming to rest on the curve of your ass. The first smack caught you by surprise, but it wasn't as hard as you needed.

"One," you counted. "Harder, please sir."

When his hand came down the second time, it was harder, but still not quite what you wanted.

As if he could sense it, Nick chuckled darkly. "You want harder, baby? Let's see what you can take."

The next three smacks were progressively harder and each one sent a thrill of pain-pleasure through your body. After the fifth, his large hands soothed your burning skin before he ordered you to flip onto your back.

You did as he asked, hands above your head. You felt the cold metal of his handcuffs wrapping around your left wrist, pulled through the bars on the headboard, then placed on your right wrist. You tugged lightly and found you were secured tightly to the headboard, now unable to move your arms.

"You look so pretty like this," Nick said softly. "All laid out for me, practically begging me to fuck you."

You whimpered softly, need coursing through your body.

"Don't worry needy girl, I'll fuck you soon enough. You just need to be patient."

You heard his movements near the bed, but you weren't sure what was happening until you heard the distinctive sound of his pants unzipping. Your pussy ached for his touch and you brought your legs together in search of some friction.

You yelped when his hand roughly smacked your upper thigh. "Keep those legs open. The only pleasure you're going to get is gonna come from me."

"Yes sir."

After a few moments, you felt the bed dip down as he climbed on top of you. You could feel the heat from his skin as he hovered over you, but the blindfold prevented you from seeing what he was going to do next.

"Open your mouth," he demanded.

You immediately did as requested.

"Good girl," he murmured.

You felt him shift before he slid his hard cock into your waiting mouth. You moaned happily, enjoying the sensation.

"I'm gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours, baby, and you're gonna take it."

You couldn't respond verbally, but you nodded as enthusiastically as you could.

Your nod was all he needed to begin to properly fuck your mouth, taking everything you had to give and then some. You gaged around his large member, which only seemed to spur him on. The sounds coming from Nick's mouth were surprisingly obscene and you loved that you were the one making him feel so good.

After a few minutes, he removed himself from your mouth and you whimpered softly at the feeling of emptiness. He chuckled darkly and wiped some saliva from your chin before crashing his lips down against yours.

He broke the kiss when he heard you struggle against the handcuffs--clearly desperate to touch him. "If you tell me what you want baby, I might be generous enough to give it to you."

"Please fuck me, sir. Please," you begged.

"Well since you asked so nicely..."

You felt him spread your legs even wider and line himself up with your entrance. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down between your pussy folds, releasing a deep groan along with you.

Nick took a moment to steel himself, glad you couldn't see his worried expression. He desperately wanted to give you everything you asked for, even if it went against his nature. He didn't want to hurt you, but he couldn't deny how incredibly turned on you were by everything he'd done so far.

Without warning, he fully sheathed his cock inside you with one hard thrust. He didn't give you a single moment to adjust, instead setting a brutal pace from the start. He'd never come before you before--ever--but this was what you wanted, so he began to chase his orgasm immediately.

"Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good--love the way you're squeezing me."

You moaned loudly, tugging at your bindings in a desperate need to touch him. You could feel the power in each of his thrusts, along with the agonizing pleasure of the stretch he always provided you.

"I wanna see you," you gasped, suddenly filled with the urge to watch him fall apart--fall apart for you.

"Beg me for it."

"Please, sir. Please, I wanna see you. I need to. Please, sir. I'll do anything."

He smiled and reached behind your head to untie the tie. "You sound so pretty when you beg for me."

He tossed the tie onto the bed, continuing to fuck you like he needed your pussy in order to survive. You watched him above you, gorgeous face shiny with a light layer of sweat, eyes locked onto yours as he chased his orgasm.

"You fuck me so well, sir," you praised him.

He groaned loudly, surprised by how much he liked hearing you praise him like that. "It's this sweet pussy of yours, baby. I can't get enough of it."

You smiled, the expression a mixture of physical and emotional pleasure. Now that you could see him, you wanted to watch him come for you--wanted to focus entirely on his face in the moment.

"I want you to fill me up, sir. Please, I need it."

"Yeah? Want me to fill you up?"

"Wanna feel your cum leaking out of me all night," you added.

"Mierda," he groaned. His thrusts became sloppier and his moans rougher. "Gonna cum for you, baby."

"Please, papi. Fill me up."

"Fuck!" he growled as he came, orgasm shockingly explosive. He thrust a few more times before collapsing on top of you, completely out of breath.

You wanted to wrap your arms around him, to comfort him and hold him, but your wrists were still securely fastened to the headboard.

After a few more moments, Nick pulled himself up into a sitting position and slipped his fingers between your folds, toying with your overly needy and sensitive clit. His dark brown eyes were fixed on yours, his own needs now the farthest thing from his mind.

"You don't have to--" you started.

"This isn't about you, querida," he cut in. "This is for my enjoyment. I wanna watch you come apart on my fingers."

You nodded, relaxing your body and allowing the pleasurable sensations to wash over you.

"That's it, hermosa. Just relax for me." His voice wasn't quite as harsh as it had been before, but there was still a clear demanding tone.

"I'm so close," you whimpered.

"I know, baby. I can feel it."

Your moans were like music to his ears--music he never wanted to stop listening to.

"I'm gonna cum," you gasped.

"No you're not," Nick said firmly, fingers not stopping their ministrations.

"Wha-what?"

"You don't cum until I say you can."

"But I-I can't hold it."

"You will or there will be consequences."

You focused all your energy on not coming, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please," you whimpered.

"Not yet."

"Please, I-I can't--"

"Look at me, querida," he ordered.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at his handsome face.

"Cum for me, mi amor."

You cried out a mixture of curse words and his name as your orgasm rushed through you with incredible intensity.

Nick didn't stop his movements until you began to beg him to stop--too sensitive for anything more.

Nick moved up your body and placed a soft, loving kiss to your lips. "You alright, hermosa?"

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.

He smiled and reached for the handcuff key on the nightstand. "Let's get these off of you."

He quickly released you from the cuffs and you sighed happily as you relaxed your arms.

"Oh god," Nick said as he gently grabbed ahold of your arm. "Mi amor...god, I'm so sorry."

"For what?" you asked in confusion.

"Your wrists," he whispered.

You looked down at your wrists, angry bruises already forming from the way you'd fought against the handcuffs. You pulled yourself up into a sitting position so you could properly look at Nick.

"I'm perfectly fine, baby," you assured him. "The pain is part of my enjoyment. I'm glad you used them on me."

He looked a little worried still, but he seemed less upset. "Maybe we buy fuzzy ones for next time?"

You chuckled lightly. "Will it make you feel better?"

He nodded and you caressed his face lovingly. "Alright then. We'll buy some fuzzy ones."

He smiled warmly. "As difficult as it was for me to be so selfish tonight, I saw how much you loved it--how turned on you were--and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't hot as hell."

You grinned. "I enjoyed every moment of it, Nick. Thank you."

"Thank you for trusting me," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you softly.

"I trust you with my life, Nick Amaro, so it's not hard to trust you with my kinks too."

He chuckled lightly. "I'm happy to help you make any fantasy you want come to life. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"The same goes for you--no fantasy is too wild for me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Challenged accepted."

You laughed warmly and he joined in. You leaned into his warm embrace, feeling safe, loved, and blessed to have found such an amazing partner.

[phantomarine]

Hey what were you trying to say in your “it gets good at page 1001” post

Was it more of a comment directed at yourself ( self degradation), is it satire about perfectionism,

Is it supposed to be inspirational for Beginners webcomic creators, or we’re you just in a bad mood?

More of a warning against self-sabotage, because I see it so much. Sometimes it's tied to perfectionism, sometimes it's the opposite - people surrendering to imperfection when they don't really have to.

Creator chat incoming. I'll put it under the deelybob for anyone who wants to read it 👇

I've been in the webcomic sphere for several years now and I've seen so many people introduce their comic with 'I know it's very long and not easy to read, and I won't be going back and changing anything about what I've already made - but please critique it so I can make the rest of the pages better and attract a bigger audience from now on.'

And that's a hard thing to respond to. If a reader can't get through all those existing pages without being confused or bored, then how can they get to the good stuff that lies past them?

So much of gaining an audience is about actively making it easy to 'fall into' a work. Without that easy entry point, it's always going to be an uphill battle to build an audience, no matter how good the later chapters get. There are outliers, but most webcomics won't be those outliers, especially with thousands of them available nowadays. Some people love the grind, but most people will jump to a new tab and try to find something less frustrating.

And webcomic creation is particularly cursed by its very nature. Creators are hesitant to go back and edit pages, even once they've figured out more details about their craft or story structure. It's mostly because of the seeming permanence of it all - the art takes ages and the words feel unchangeable if even one other person has read them. To go back and edit is to publicly admit your failings, right? That's how it feels. What do you MEAN you didn't get it right the first time? You were supposed to do it live, and do it PERFECTLY!

But ideally it shouldn't be any different than prose writing, which is ALL ABOUT finding the story in those edits. And because your story is digital, you can go back and change things whenever you feel like it. A webcomic is fluid.

And if you're thinking 'I should just redraw my whole first chapter' - NO! Hell no, old art can be a part of the appeal! It's far more about finding little tricks to convey your story/characters more clearly. I have read some first chapters with janky art that made me fall completely in love with the story and cast. It's not about the art - as with all things comic-related, it's about conveyance.

Examples I've seen and some I've used myself: A single extra page with a meaningful interaction can solidify the theme of a character's arc. One additional 5-to-10-page scene can help add visual context for an offscreen event where there was none before. Adding a map can tell people where the characters currently are. Changing a character design can help if they get often confused with another character. Redoing your lettering to make it more legible is a huge one too.

In the end, I just don't want people to be afraid of small edits. When I got feedback about the bad clarity of my own work, I knew it would take some time to fix those problems. It wasn't fun to think about or to do, but I'm glad I did it in the end - because it would have limited my audience tremendously. With just a bit of extra effort, I opened a door that wasn't there before, and it now leads more people even more easily to 'the good stuff.'

tl;dr You started your webcomic for a reason, and you're learning more things about its characters, story, and craft every day. Don't be afraid to go back to old pages and inject some of that wisdom through editing. Even a little can go a long way.

***Caveat: If your goal is to just create chaotically, with no goal of gaining an audience, you are a wild and free little thing, and I am in awe of you. This whole rant doesn't apply to you, and you are stronger than me.

[phyrestartr]

My World Ends With You (1/2) | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 4.7k

#SFW, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it, ZOMBIES BABEY

Note: Tis a continuation of Till Death Do Us Part . Would rec reading that first lest you get mad confused

--

“Did Miguel cheat on you?” 

The question caught you off guard. As far as you knew, only a handful of people got the gist of what happened, and even fewer knew the exact reason why everything systematically fell apart. 

“How'd you–who told you?” You asked Gwen, surprise and trepidation creasing your brow. 

The young lady shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest tighter as she leaned toward the fire you'd made–the one you made out of pure restlessness from staying inside for too long. You decided to pretend you were out in the great outdoors like the old days, and set up a ring of rocks and chairs on the roof to escape the fluorescent lights and white walls. Evidently, Gwen needed a break from it all, too.

“Gabi.” She fiddled with her toque and cleared her throat. “She, uh--y'know. She mentioned it.” 

“Huh.” Your gaze wandered away from Gwen, and back to the fire. “I didn't think she'd remember.” 

“How old was she? When it happened, I mean.” 

“Must've been 11. We split when she was 13, I'm pretty sure.” You sighed and leaned back in your shitty old soccer mom chair. “Guess we were bad at hiding it.”

“Pretty hard to hide that kinda thing from your kid,” Gwen mumbled, dwelling on something ancient and sore in the depths of her memories. “They're more perceptive than you think.” 

You nodded. The stars caught your attention and you stared up, gazing upon the winking lights and shooting comets flying by. Most of those celestial bodies were there when everything happened. Did they remember, too? Were they haunted, too?

“Yeah. My parents thought I didn't know nothin’ either. They didn't know how wrong that was,” you agreed. 

“So he did cheat on you?” Gwen asked. You nodded. She scoffed. “But--why? He always acts so lovey-dovey and gross around you. Why would he–?”

“Good people do bad things,” you said, and continued before she could cut in, “‘n bad people do good things, sometimes.” 

“So which camp is he in?” She asked.

“Pretty sure he's mostly good.” 

“Pretty sure?” 

You chuckled. “I've met ‘bad guys,’ believe me.” You took a breath and nudged some logs around in the fire with a stick. “Miguel ain't like them. He's full of himself, arrogant, stubborn ‘n all that, but he's helped people. He's helping people, even if he's got a crap attitude about it.” 

“Right,” Gwen breathed. Her voice carried something heavy with it. Something uncertain and unwavering, like the teeter of winter into spring, or thunder that wondered if it might rain. Her restless energy mirrored the fire as it roiled and spat brilliant sprays of embers into the cold, night sky; only, the fire would eventually die down, calm itself into blackened coals. Gwen’s torch would not fade as such. 

“You think he’s a bad guy?” You asked. 

“Never really thought he was a good guy.” She rubbed the back of her neck before sighing. “But. Yeah.  Never thought he was a bad guy, either. Kinda feels like a vigilante, or something. But less cool.”

You smiled when you peered over at her. “Maybe like an antihero?” 

“Way less cool than that, but yeah. Sure. An antihero,” she huffed. “But you’re a blue-blood. I don’t think those types are supposed to get along.” 

That made you laugh. “I think they get along pretty well. They do in the comics, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye on everything.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You mean most things?”

You nodded. “Yeah, most things.” You tucked your hands into your pockets and gazed up again, this time losing your thoughts to the endless void of grey sweeping in and devouring all light in the sky. “You don't need to worry about me, Gwen. There’re more–”

“More important things to worry about?” She finished, not sounding too impressed. “Feels like you're using the end of the world as an excuse.” 

You frowned, and wiped the dew of melted snowflakes from your cheek. “Maybe you got yourself a point, there.” 

–

You were the new kid in year 12. Normally, no one gave a shit–it was New York, after all–but you had a tendency to catch everyone's attention when you never sought to try. 

You were a country boy. A fella with a strange tendency to be kind and hold doors open for ladies or help some sorry idiot pick up their dropped assignment. That gentle lilt in your voice, the only evidence that you weren't from the city, always had people staring your way. Boys would mock you, especially when their girls flushed soft colours and whispered while they glanced your way. It didn't help that you were handsome as all hell, too. 

And one day, like a fucking fairytale, Miguel finally ran into you and got hit with the triple threat that was your accent, face, and genuinity–what he didn't expect, however, was to meet you at the Kwan's ranch.

You were clad in boots and jeans and a stupid cliche cowboy hat hung around your neck, hiding the impressive display of shoulder blades flexing and rippling with strong muscle as you shoveled and cleaned out the old hay and debris from the stables. Something warm and melodious trilled under your breath as you worked, and it beckoned like a siren's song--so captivating Miguel couldn't help himself. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You looked over your broad shoulder and blinked a few times, like you were showing off the brilliant hue of your eyes on purpose. A kindly smile made you shine brighter, too, like the sun somehow lit you up from within. 

“Howdy,” you said. 

“Howdy?” Miguel snorted and tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he wandered in. “That's a little too country, isn't it?” 

“Is it now?” The twang in your voice must’ve been fake. No normal person sounded like they were ripped straight from a Western. “Maybe you're just too city.” 

“Hm.” Miguel crossed his arms and leaned against a beam as he watched you continue to work. “Maybe.” 

“Come on, now,” you laughed, “I can smell the city on you. Could probably taste it, too, if I could.” 

Miguel's face burned. His heart pitter-pattered just a little bit faster, soon going a lot faster when he registered the wink you threw his way. Were you flirting? Was it working? Was Miguel swooning? 

Yes, yes and yes. 

–

“Y'know, you don't have to be such a busy body,” Miguel said, wandering into the lab-turned-greenhouse. He had to admit, it looked good. Peaceful. And it certainly helped with keeping everyone fed and happy. So did your presence at Alchemax; you and Gabriella felt like a fresh coat of paint on a beat-up old car. A nice change. Good additions. 

And Miguel felt complete now that you were with him, too. There were still issues, still things to work out and problems to talk about, but it felt nice to work towards something selfish and meaningful. Something that was wholly and unabashedly for him and him alone.

But you were such a restless man. All day, every day, Miguel found you working; clearing snow, repotting, sowing seeds, cleaning, teaching, handyman-ing were all on your resume of husband material and so clearly those skills ruled your mind every waking hour of every day. It didn't help that the other folks In the colony realized just how much of a do-gooder sweetheart you were. Miguel was one more flirty comment away from nuking the building. 

But the way you smiled in the face of adversity let him keep a reasonable cool. Whether it was your awkward attempt to be cordial with someone who so clearly thirsted for you and your attention, or in a sheepish and innocently guilty way whenever Miguel called you out for working too much, you had a way of melting his frigid heart into something cool and light like an autumnal spring.

“I’m just puttering,” you hummed, pausing what you were doing to lean in and give him a kiss, careful to keep your dirt-crusted hands away from him and his neatness. “Just movin’ some of these into bigger pots. Don’t want them to go dying on us.” 

“I think they’d live.” Miguel hummed as he looked over the array of little plants sprouting with flourishes of brilliant emerald. His hand slipped to the small of your back before his arms looped around your waist, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “I need you more than they do.”

You laughed, soft and smoky. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Miguel left a sweet kiss on your neck, right on the odd, heart-shaped-ish scar he used to leave hickeys over back in the day. “They’re not the only ones that need fertilizing.”

“Christ. Did Pete teach you that one?” You laughed, but didn’t crumble and fertilize Miguel. Damn. 

Your partner huffed. “Come on, just–can’t you take a break, viejo?” He kissed your neck another handful of times and buried his face into the strong curve of your shoulder with a most petulant sigh. “Feels like I only get to see you when we go to bed.” 

“Not much different from how it used to be,” you said. “I worked nights, you worked days. Hardly got to see each other.” 

“I hated it,” Miguel mumbled. And you actually paused, your busy hands halting with the rest of your body. “I wanted you home with me. I didn’t want you to work nights.” 

He felt you shift again, the sound of your hands under running water sparking hope in his chest. But he snuffed it out himself–he knew you too well. You weren’t the type to stop when something needed to be done. Miguel couldn’t fault you for it, though, not when he was the exact same way. 

“Miggs.” You turned in his arms and held the sides of his face. “I’m not going anywhere. No night shifts, no driving after gun-toutin’ idiots on the highway, no overtime. You can always find me if you need me.” 

“Would you've come for me and Dana–” he stopped, a bout of regret punching the words back down his throat. The sudden distance in your eyes and the stiffness of your touch haunted him. Why did he have to talk? Why was he still chasing you away like this? 

“Don't,” Miguel pleaded, his hands flying up to your arms, holding you still. 

An overcast of something chased away the far look. Miguel wished he could read you as easily as you read him. He didn't know what you were thinking. Did he ever?

“I still have some things I'm working on getting past, Miggs,” you managed. “I don't--I'm trying.” 

Miguel nodded. What could he say, really? Try harder? Love me more? Get over it already? Your marriage reached a difficult point before the apocalypse; now, it'd climbed to new heights, but problems erased themselves thanks to the simple fact that the world had ended. There were more deadly things to worry about in the present.

“Just let me know if I can help,” your partner offered. And you smiled, tired and weary, unknowingly soothing the frigid panic freezing Miguel's veins. 

“Promise I will.” You gently stroked the arch of his cheekbone with the back of your knuckles. “Just don't worry too much. I'm alright.” 

And he believed you. 

– 

“Who's your friend?” 

The question drove Miguel insane, like a chisel tapping away at marble. Because everyone asked when they saw you, a stupidly handsome, ridiculously tall, polite southern gentleman dressed to the nines in a custom suit Miguel picked out himself–garments he picked out for his fiancé. His betrothed. His to-be husband. 

Miguel's coworkers knew he was taken. He thought it'd be obvious by whom since, well, he rolled up to the event with you and had complimentary outfits with you and you were wearing a fucking ring on the finger.

Still, countless folks introduced themselves to you, sweeping you up into conversations and leaning in too close for comfort. Miguel’s ego swelled, sure; he had the most impeccable, handsome, perfect man in the world, but his jealousy chomped away at his temper. He didn't like people thinking they had a chance with you. It was funny at first, but you were too nice to snap at them, to put them in their places. And, quite frankly, Miguel had had more than enough of watching his damn coworkers throw themselves at you the second they heard that stupid, endearing drawl or saw your charming, lopsided smile. 

He floated to your side, anchoring an arm around your waist while his other hand held a crystalline glass of something golden and fancy. 

“Hey,” Miguel hummed as your eyes met, and he leaned in, planting a soft, sweet peck onto your lips. “Havin’ fun?” The energy around the bystanders shifted dramatically. Miguel felt more pleased than a lion catching its prey. 

“Better now that you’re here,” you hummed, eyes creasing with a gentle tilt of your lips. He loved that look on you. It was the same one you wore every morning when you cooed your sweet good morning-s. 

“I make everything better,” Miguel agreed. He finished his drink and handed it off to whatever poor sod stood beside him. “Guess they haven’t heard the good news.” 

Your head tilted as whispers spread around you both. “Thought you would’ve told ‘em by now, honey.” 

“Well,” Miguel said, sing-songy and so obviously annoyed and bitter with how annoying this event had been for him. He took your hand and brought it up, feigning examination while purposefully catching the light on the band of gold hugging your finger. “I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to not put two and two together.” 

With that, the vibe died. Soft scoffs and muttered words were left in the wake of party-goers as they abandoned the two of you. Some offered anxious goodbyes to you before shuffling off, but many who’d been burned and shit on by Miguel in the past were not pleasant enough to separate you from your man. Which Miguel preferred. 

Miguel smirked to himself, satisfied with his work. Though, when he met your eyes, you looked anything but impressed. Oops. He probably should’ve considered the aftermath.

“Look, they should know who they're messing with,” he testified.

You quirked a brow. “You mean who they're talkin’ to?” 

Miguel huffed, the smallest of pouts forming. “Don't give me that. They were all over you.” 

“Honey, no one's ever gonna replace you, alright? You've got nothin’ to worry about.” Still exasperated, you smiled, and fixed his tie for him, giving it a light tug and tucking it back against his breast neatly. “You think I'd ever fool around behind your back?” 

“What? No.” Why wouldn’t you? You were handsome, a gentleman, a man who could have anything and anyone you wanted with looks and charm alone. So maybe–maybe that's why Miguel did what he did. Maybe he was trying to show you just how wrong you were. 

“Exactly. Now, you stop worrying and try to enjoy the event, alright? Promise I'll stay by your side for peace of mind,” you said with a wink. Miguel melted. You were too good for him. 

“Por dios–yeah, alright, okay. Fine.” He huffed and pulled you in close to him again and gave you a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 

And of course, it was in that moment Dana passed him by with a smile full of secrets and damning evidence–a vault that he wanted to break open and force you to face.  

–

Miles fucked up. 

He yanked open that fucking car door–specifically when told not to–and set off the dinner bell for whatever undeads still wandered the streets of New York. 

The race through the city streets wasn't so easy, not after years of the military, militia and more trying to block off streets, take a stance against the unending hordes threatening human existence–tanks, trucks, barricades and more littered and cluttered the streets like the puddles after a storm. Every vault and jump was uncertain despite determined, never really knowing if the next car the group jumped onto would throw one of you to the ground with a broken leg or twisted ankle. Miguel almost wished Miles shattered his knee. 

Especially when you nearly didn't make it inside. 

Miguel pulled you through just as they got the shitty garage door down, and he pulled you up, eyes wide and jaw set as pain jolted your features. 

“Hey, hey, what's–you're fine. You're fine,” he whispered. His hand frantically touched where they could before settling on either side of your face as you both fought to catch your breath. “You're fine.” 

But you shook your head. “I, uh--need you to back away from me, baby.” 

“No.” 

“I gotta make sure, be careful–” 

“No.” 

You pulled his hands away from your face, and Miguel saw liquid ruby stain his skin, too. 

“Listen,” you rasped as you limped toward a rundown car with your cuffs unlatched from your belt. “We gotta–gotta clear the shop. Miggs, you take care of the doors.” 

But he didn’t. He stood still, shoulders rolling with the heavy breaths he sucked in while you and Gwen puttered around the small, homely garage to the tune of the undead hissing and snarling just beyond the metal door. Miguel took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the–

“I–uh, what should I do?” Miles asked. 

Miguel whirled around and stalked to him, explosive rage fuelling his steps across the room. He grabbed Miles’ shirt and slammed him into the wall, looming over him like a titan. 

“You are not going to do anything,” Miguel growled. Miles’ eyes widened as he shrunk. “This is your fucking fault in the first place.”

“Hey, he’s just a kid–” Gwen tried, but Miguel’s quick glance her way stalled her. “He didn’t mean to–”

“That’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to survive out here and he’s not willing to use his fucking brain to fill in the gaps.” 

“Dude, let go of me!” Miles snapped, panic lancing through the quiver in his voice. “You can’t–” Miguel slammed him into the wall again. The undead shrieked and howled a mere half a foot away beyond the stone walls barring them out. 

Miguel basked in the dread eating away at Miles’ confidence. “It was a mistake to bring you here. You were a mis–” 

You yanked Miguel off the kid and slammed him into the wall, hand clapping over your partner’s mouth while your red-hot stare bore into the back of his skull and pinned him still. Your other hand held firm over his throat. You didn’t hurt him, but the fingertips digging into the straining tendons of Miguel’s neck threatened the opposite. 

“Quiet,” is what you commanded.

The room fell silent. And it stayed that way. It was hard to tell if anyone still breathed or lived in the minutes you all stood, patient, suffocating, and you stayed in that unsure limbo while the bloodthirsty reverie gradually de-crescendoed in the placid muteness. Slowly, slowly, with each wandering corpse that left to chase errant noises or to wander aimlessly with no mission left in mind, the air in your sanctuary began to heal. 

Your grip became kinder, and you let go, staggering back on unsteady legs. Then, you collapsed.

–

Your injury turned out to be a gash, not a bite. It ran across your shoulder horizontally, accented by a few other gouges bloodying your exhausted face and Miguel's busy hands. 

He stitched you up carefully yet thoroughly, eagerly trying to finish the job while you squeezed your eyes closed and gnawed on the belt wedged between your teeth. To your credit, you handled the temp stitches well. You only really shifted and panicked when Miguel tried to flush the wound with what water he had on hand. 

“That should hold until we get back,” he murmured for your ears only. He cut the thread with his teeth after tying it off, and wrapped your arm with a strip of torn shirt. 

You nodded tiredly and let him take the belt from between your teeth. “Thank you.” You sat up a little straighter against the wall and took deep breaths, eyes squeezed closed and brow beaded with sweat. 

Heat flared in Miguel’s chest. If not for you, Miguel would have ripped Miles a new one. He might have even thrown him to the undead in your name. If you'd come out infected, doomed to die, he'd make sure Miles suffered the same. 

“Don't be so hard on him,” you rasped, voice blending with the soft crackle of the unconvincing campfire. 

Miguel's stare hardened into ice. “He could've–” 

“Miguel.” He looked at you, and melted as you leaned into his warmth. “Lectures can wait. We need to get home first.” 

You were right. And it enraged Miguel further. He wanted to take his anger out on something, or better yet someone, but you just–

“You remember when you proposed?” You whispered. 

The creases between Miguel's brows lifted and smoothed. “‘Course I remember.” He slid a careful arm around your waist and held you to his side. He kissed the top of your head and inhaled your scent. “You were coming home from a night shift.” 

He remembered it too clearly, actually. You, being exhausted and out of it, still suited up in your uniform when you came through the door with a yawn. 

Coffee, your other beloved, lured you to the kitchen where Miguel knew you'd find him. Though he hated not waking up beside you those mornings, he cherished the sleepy back hugs you'd greet him with while you both waited for the carafe to fill. 

“Mornin’,” you grumbled into his neck between small kisses. “Sleep good?” 

Miguel always leaned back into you and basked in the wander of your hands and the scent of cigarettes hiding in your words. It all meshed too well with the bitterness of coffee. “Woulda slept better with you here.” 

You hummed, crackly and apologetic. “Good thing that was my last night shift this block, hey? Get to wake up with you tomorrow.” Your fingertips dragged up the hem of shirt in your search to feel the dips and curves of his toned stomach. “And the next day, and the next day…”

Miguel turned in your arms to spy your drowsy smile. He cupped your face, running his thumbs along the bags under your eyes, before giving you a peck. “I think you need a nap, mi amor.” 

“No, no, ‘m fine. Promise. Just need a shower ‘n I'll be right as rain.” You took one of his hands in your own and turned to kiss his palm. “Wouldn’t be opposed to a mid-morning nap, though.” 

“Lucky for you, I'm getting back in bed after coffee's done.” Miguel kissed you again, purposely mooshing his nose against yours. “Go take a shower. I'll pour you a cup.” 

You hummed, accepting the offer, and very very reluctantly separated from your lover. “Just don't make mine too crazy sweet, alright?” 

Miguel huffed. “Tch. I don't even make it that sweet.” But you were already sauntering off to the ensuite, loud yawn punctuating your departure. “Pendejo.” 

The coffee maker beeped not too long after. Thoughts of what to do with the weekend swirled through Miguel's mind with the springy, disoriented bounce of ADHD while he made up both of your coffees, one just sorta sweet, and one just a little (a lot) sweeter. Honestly, Miguel was bad at making coffee to your taste. Too often he'd watch you stand at the coffee maker, measuring cream, sugar and coffee in your quest to achieve a perfect bitterness to sweetness ratio. 

But when Miguel made you coffee, you never complained. Simply requested it not be too sweet. And everytime Miguel handed you that cup, trepidation filling the childish part of his pride, you always declared it was perfect from the first sip. 

Perfect. Like you. Like his life. That's why he needed to–

“Honey,” you called, bringing your partner back to the present. He turned to you, eyebrows raising in interest at just how low the towel hung from your hips–until he saw the small box in your hand. That made his heart start pounding. 

Miguel crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to hide his sheer panic. “Where did you–”

“You forgot it in the bathroom. I think. Found it on the counter.” 

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He really forgot to put that stupid thing away. He really went all cliché romcom and rehearsed in front of the mirror and didn't put the fucking ring away. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a goddamn genius, and yet–

You opened the box because of course you would. Anyone with a shred of curiosity would. And you whistled in a way that only cowboys could. Back when you were both young, you whistled at Miguel like that when he walked by. Lyla said you weren't one to do that, that that was a first for you.

“Damn. This thing looks expensive.” You pulled the gold ring out and looked it over as Miguel came to you. The band was simple gold, yes, but inlaid was a diamond flanked by your birthstone and his, all shaped in a striking baguette cut. The piece was simple and masculine, something befitting you entirely. 

But you were too out of it to realize what the fuck it was you were holding. 

“Bet I could buy a farm with this.” 

Miguel had to laugh a bit at that. “Most people would say a house, you know.” 

“Farm's better. Comes with a house.” You snatched up his hand and examined his fingers, probably sizing up which one the ring–your ring--was supposed to fit on. “Either way, you’re gonna turn heads with a whole mortgage on your finger, I'll tell you what.” 

Miguel's chest warmed. Maybe because of your smooth way of talking, or maybe because you were too sweet and admiring of your partner. Miguel couldn't tell. But it was probably both. 

“On my finger?” He repeated as he plucked the ring from the box. His heart beat in his ears. His face burned. But it was now or never. “I think it'd look better on yours.” 

“What?” You asked, soft and confused, sorta like you'd realized what that ring meant halfway through. “Wait, wait–” 

“I was going to.” Miguel slid the fine gold band on your left ring finger. “But then you ruined the surprise.” 

There was something magical in that moment. Your hand in Miguel's, the sparkle of new promise shining on your finger, the glitter of crystals pooling in your eyes. And your eyes were so wide, like you didn't quite believe Miguel would want to marry someone like you, so he had to say it, if not for the cliché, movie finale:

“Will you marry m–” 

You kissed him before he could finish. Your arms flew around his neck as your weight hit him like a ton of bricks. But he caught you both and held you close, laughing against your lips as the ball of doubt unraveled as every whispered chant of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ touched his skin. 

Those days were good. They were simple. They were The start of everything Miguel could have dreamed of–and then he ruined it. 

“Still hard to believe you wanted me, sometimes,” you reminisced, looking down at the dull, chipped set of rings hugging your finger still.

“You're the only one,” he murmured into your hair. “Even when–even if I–no matter what. No matter what, it was always you. It'll always be you.” Then where's your ring, Miguel?

You hummed and sunk into your partner's warmth more, staying silent with your thoughts as you watched the dim flicker of the fire and the two others collapsed around it. “Try not to be so hard on Miles.” Ah. “He screwed up. But we need to keep morale up.” 

Miguel huffed. “So you only mentioned our–you just wanted me to stop thinking about today.” 

“I wanted you to relax, sweetheart.” God, that smile was so clear in your voice. 

“Tch. Pendejo. He deserves to be yelled at.” 

“By his father. At home. Where it's safe.” 

“Fine.” 

[thattimdrakeguy]

TIM DRAKE NEEDS OUR HELP

I need people NEED THEM, oh baby, oh goodness do I NEED people who don't know much about Tim Drake to stop talking about the Boy Himself: Tim Drake.

Presented: An accurate depiction of an 18-year-old Tim. The over-sized T-Shirt that helps his already lean body make him look skinnier (therefore people would underestimate him, which is part of his personal fighting technique) worn for comfort over anything else adds to it greatly. He does not normally dress fancy, as is sometimes assumed of him. Wearing some of the Robin colors also help.

If you do not know what he looks like, that is fine, that is actually UNDERSTANDABLE. Like what am I to do, pretend I don't know why people don't know what he looks like? After over a decade of him mostly looking like a generic white guy super hero?

Y'all gotta realize, people did not care about Tim for a very long time, because he was basically the D-List Robin since he stopped being the main one. So they never did their research. He wouldn't even be written right. And his relationships and details of his character could change drastically between writing changes. It was awful.

So those that don't know, please try to learn why people sometimes say what they do about Tim. It's not all true, but in this case, it is true. And when we get to see what he's supposed to look like in a real comic, it's very exciting for us, because we don't normally get that excitement anymore.

I know, it's sad just to be happy to see our fav look like themselves, but it's the spot we're in.

Presented: Canon Proof of Tim's appearance, set when Tim was only months away from being EIGHTEEN-YEARS-OLD, he was still being confused for being TWELVE-YEARS-OLD. Showing how he does look for his age.

Like he's SUPPOSED to be VERY SHORT, he's supposed to look lean to the point of seeming skinny in his street clothes, people are supposed to underestimate him (which is why his appearance works so damn well), he's supposed to have a soft 'cute' look to him, especially young looking even for his age as you can see above, that is part of him, one of of his gags is that he's confused to be twelve even when he was nearing eighteen. HE PURPOSELY LOOKS LIKE THAT. It is an ACTIVE choice. It is not a weird thing people just randomly do, it is a purposeful character design choice, made for the character, for him to stand out, and be different from the other characters with.

It is NOT a fanon thing people made to infantilize him. That is just what he looks like. And it is exactly what some real people look like. It is ACTUALLY part of him. It is a CANON part of him. That is brought up so much, because people keep thinking it isn't CANON, when it is CANON.

Presented: A horrible drawing of Tim Drake, during an era that made a lot of people have misconceptions of the character we're only lately getting away from. But some people still believe to be the more accurate Tim, based on when they started reading. DO NOT DO THIS.

All because a lot of artists don't care to draw him right, doesn't mean his appearance miraculously changed within the canon. Or at least it shouldn't have, considering that'd be weird, and take an aspect of the character that made him unique go away. Which is not fun for any character to have them done to them.

So when ever an artist does DRAW him like that, can we gang together and say "HEY, GOOD JOB ARTIST, FOR ACTUALLY LOOKING UP WHAT TIM LOOKS LIKE"

Presented: ANOTHER VERY GOOD TIM. See how he's shorter than his friends (Bart's leaning), has a soft 'cute' face, leaner physique (looking skinny, but not scrawny like he isn't athletic), thick middle parted hair. These are the components of a well drawn Tim that people desire to see more. It will look different based on the art style of course. But these are what makes Tim's appearance suit what we know of Tim, and has been clearly established no matter his age. Here, he is presumably around 17-years-old. Possibly not even a year younger than he currently is.

Because seeing people who see him look different, when it's the right difference, and complain, because they are not aware Tim isn't supposed to look buff and tall and masculine, just because a lot of artists didn't care about who is ultimately at this point a D-List Super Hero...isn't really fair to the people who DO CARE ABOUT IT.

Presented: Something I'm definitely gonna delete from my device soon enough, but added for the sake of the post.

If you wouldn't take away from Dick's ass, don't take away Tim's appearance, please.

We know Tim is different, and that's why we love him the way we do so much.

[cyanide-sippy-cup]

Finally watched Caped Crusader and I have ✨thoughts✨.

Oswalda is straight up iconic. Loved every scene with her. I actually laughed out loud when the dude goes "Thorne got you to kill the wrong son?" and she responds "Not that!" I'd let her lock me in a suitcase and throw me in the sea. She gets a gold star ⭐

I like that we get to see Selina's origin. I like the classic suit. That's kinda it though. A bit sad that Bruce didn't feel any connection with her. Just not a huge fan of her character here. She doesn't feel like Selina (a problem most of this show faces tbh).

I was loving the Harley stuff. The bit with Renee was so cute, and I love that she really was passionate about helping Bruce move past his trauma. I really like that she's Barbara's friend. Was really upset at the fakeout death but at least she was just joshin. The villain stuff felt like fetishes which like okay. I guess Bruce needed to put in something to replace BruceBabs. Anyway, that's the final dig towards him. As much as this Harley episode wasn't my favorite, a promise is a promise. Although I do gotta ask, WHY CAN'T RENEE CATCH A BREAK IN HER LOVE LIFE >:(((

No fucking way the moral of episode 7 was "the system is totally not screwed, it's just a few bad apples and also a criminal is a criminal and should be jailed". Barbara literally says the system sucks cause the cops can do what they want and get in anyone's pockets and then nearly gets killed by a cop and then they end it with "actually, I think you do"?! I mean yeah that specific guy deserved prison but ending it on that note of Barbara feeling betrayed and confused on her morals tells a very not-so-delightful message. Glad the show backtracks on all that immediately but it's still weird and definitely could've used some revising to fit in with the rest.

Onomatopeia was awesome though. I remember people claiming his shtick couldn't work when he appeared in Superman and Lois. They said that it only worked in comics and would be too silly out loud. Happy to report that they're wrong.

I feel like I'm the only one who was excited to see Waylon but that's okay cause I got enough excitement for everyone. Love to see my mans kicking the shit out of potential perverts. You go, Waylon!

Dick, Jason, Steph, and Carrie. Definitely an interesting combination. But it's also so nice to see a Jason who grew up in a different environment and is therefore adorable with no rage in his heart. As opposed to Carrie who was ready to kick some ass. The ending to episode 8 really understood Batman, what with him saying he can't leave her there, carrying her and shielding her under the cape, and then asking about her later.

The Harvey bit is kinda cool but 1, I've always been iffy on the shotty DID stuff and 2, I think they coulda gone further. Just watch The Long Halloween for a better Two Face plot.

I like Harvey helping that guy get his stuffed animal back. That was a nice small character moment. If we had more stuff like that and Bruce being unable to confess his emotions to Alfred, I think this whole thing would be better. This one made up for episode 7's little message by having Barbara tell Harvey that it's not so cut and dry and that he deserves help too. I'm glad they went back to that after the whole "sometimes things are black and white" bit. Batman is about helping people just as much as Superman is and I feel like sending a message that "nope, bad is bad and he should just punch people" doesn't fit the entire thesis of Batman.

This finale really encapsulates how this show doesn't quite understand the character of Batman. It may be comic-accurate for him to be an asshole and put on the voice randomly, treat Alfred like crap, and randomly break character with stuff like "don't start growing a conscience now, Dent" but as I said it goes against the whole thesis. This is more along the lines of the Nolan films with the "Bruce Wayne is the mask" bit. And we all know how I feel about those films.

And then it ends on a boring cliffhanger with the boss guy and then a shitty Joker teaser. Boo.

In short, this show is good but it's not anything special. I do really like the classic Batman aesthetic, but that's pretty much it. It doesn't really understand the characters like MAWS and WFA, the overarching plot is kind of uninteresting and it doesn't feel like we're building up to something great. I feel like this show really wanted to use the episodic style to take a look at all these different elements of Gotham's world with references to existing characters and aspects. But whereas MAWS smoothly slid those into its narrative and setting, this just kinda feels like a villain of the week show instead of working towards this grand narrative. And that can be a good thing, I mean I'm a Scooby Doo fan for crying out loud, but in this scenario, it just doesn't work that exceptionally. If it gets a season 2, I'll probably watch it. But this isn't something I'd be excitedly waiting to see new episodes of.

[recreationalfanfics]

Tengen with a Tamaranean! Reader

Fandoms: DC, Demon Slayer

A/N: YEAH, NO, MY BRAIN HAS BEEN HAVING THOUGHTS. If you don't know what Tamaraneans are; they are an alien race in DC comics that Starfire comes from. Obv a Tamaranean would be too OP in Demon Slayer. ANOTHER GREAT THING ABOUT TAMARANEANS IS THAT POLY RELATIONSHIPS ARE NORMALIZED

Warning: Reader kisses characters out of nowhere (this is because Tamaraneans CAN speak other languages but they have to kiss someone in order to do it)

- NAH, BRO, HE AND HIS WIVES ARE INSTANTLY IN LOVE AND YOU CAN NOT CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE.

- THE WAY YOUR HAIR SETS ON FIRE!? AMAZING. THE BEAUTIFUL GLOWING AND CALM AURA AROUND YOU!? IMMACULATE. YOUR STRENGTH AND KIND HEARTED NATURE!? FLASHY.

- He was probably fight a demon and you had just crash landed on Earth and while you had no idea what was going on, you stepped in when you saw the large and ferocious demon looming over him and used one of your star bolts.

- To be honest, I honestly think Tengen wouldn't think too much about aliens (my guy is wearing crystals) probably thought you were a demon at first but then you smiled at him and his brain went blank. Yeah, no, definetly not a demon.

- HIS WIVES CATCH UP, THEY'RE CONFUSED ABOUT WHO YOU ARE but are very fascinated by you. But then when they ask you questions, you can't understand them and you try to signal that to them with your hands but then you sighs and kiss the nearest one.

- That one happened to be Suma and she was shocked and when you pulled away, her face was beat red and she looked like she was about to faint. EVERYONE ELSE WAS BAFFLED BECAUSE THIS HAPPENS IN THE SPAN OF, LIKE, 30 MINUTES.

- "I'm sorry about that, I couldn't understand you before and I could not speak your language. My people overcome that obstacle through lip contact, I hope you understand."

- And they just accept it tbh. You seem very earnest and noble and you did save Tengen's life.

- NO BECAUSE YOU STAYING WITH THEM AND HELPING WITH CHORES. Lifting Hina up when things are too high for her to reach so she doesn't have to deal with smug Tengen, Holding Suma because you're so warm and your arms feel so strong and safe when she gets a bit too hysterical, and Makio getting all flustered when you tell her how beautiful she is when she's angry and she reminded you of a fierce war queen.

- TENGEN LITERALLY THINKS EVERYTHING YOU DO IS FLASHY. The way you can lift up all three of his wives and HIM with ease, the way you fly around with such joy and look so angelic as you do so, and how you try to support his fellow Hashira against demons and is always impressed by your strength in battle.

- BRO, IN ALL FAIRNESS, They were hesitant to confess to you because yeah, you were kinda flirty and free in your own sense due to the nature of your people, but then when they ask about polygamy and stuff and you tell them that it's not uncommon on your planet and that you wish to find your love or lovers, then they all perk up and bring up the idea of you becoming their partner.

- AND OF COURSE YOU ACCEPT. They have been nothing but kind and gracious to you and it didn't hurt that they were all so attractive.

- At night, they all definetly cuddle as close as possible to you because of how warm you are so you often times have to be in the middle (Tengen and/or Suma are the blanket stealers, I know it-)

- Your people are very affectionate so sometimes your lips might heat up during kisses and leave light burn marks on their skin. You apologize as Makio just pouts and gives you the silent treatment, Tengen is just smirking because tbh it's kinda hot to him, and Suma is a flustered mess along with Hinatsuru whose currently helping apply ointment.

- But yeah, no, Tengen would be showing you off all the time and ALSO, THE EGO BOOST HE'D GET WOULD BE INSANE BECAUSE HE'S LIKE: "DO YOU SEE THIS!? I HAVE FOUR WIVES, ONE OF WHICH IS AN ALIEN WHO CAN EFFORTLESSLY KILL DEMONS." to anyone who'd be listening.

[glennrheesworld]

Request: ugh anyone x reader but the reader is really shy, and they yell at the reader and the reader cries 😣😣 but comfort and stuff

𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲~

genre: angst to fluff pairing: Carl Grimes x reader (gender not specified) summary: Reader goes outside the walls to get Carl a birthday gift but gets injured, making Carl concern. warnings: mentions of blood, yelling, & crying

a/n: sorry for the long wait @dreamtofus, I hope you guys enjoy this request!!

You have always been the shy type, even in an apocalypse infested with the walking dead.

You had grown pretty close with everyone in the group over the past years, but it didn’t make your shyness disappear.

As Carl's birthday approached, you decided to venture outside the walls of Alexandria to find a special gift for him, comic books. Even though you knew it wasn't a great idea, considering the potential threat of Walkers or worse, people, you managed to sneak past the gates without being caught.

The plan was simple. Find a bookstore, get a few comic books, arrive back safe, and wait to surprise Carl until his birthday. You had it all figured out and expected it to go out smoothly. But it didn’t.

Once you had arrived, you were soaking wet from the rain, shivering with chattering teeth, and a small fresh cut on your leg. How did you get it? Well, you fought a few Walkers before tripping over one of them, just to feel the metal of a car part scratch your leg. Your favorite jeans had ripped all thanks to the wet concrete and that damn Walker. But you still got Carl’s gift in your bag.

You had managed to sneak past Daryl near the gates into Carl’s house, which you shared with him. Trying to be as quiet as possible, you slowly sneak past the kitchen, but unfortunately for you, your shoes squeak. Carl turns and spots you, soaked and trembling.

“Babe?” The sound of his voice makes you flinch. “Uh, hey…” You try offering a short smile at him. His eyes trail down from your wet hair to your clothes and finally to the ripped leg of your jeans.

His brows furrowed as he notices the cut on your leg, little blood staining the ripped fabric. “What happened to you? And where were you?” He asks you with confusion and concern.

You stood still, your gaze dropping to the floor as you fist your wet hands to your sides. “I’m okay.” You mumble, staring at your wound, not really feeling much but a tiny sting.

“No, you’re not. You’re clearly bleeding from your leg, what happened!?” Carl’s voice slightly raises, walking towards you. “I… uhm I went outside.” You didn’t really lie, you were outside, outside the walls.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you had gone outside Alexandria, fought Walkers, and injured yourself all by getting him a birthday gift. No. You just couldn’t tell him.

Carl’s face scrunch in anger and shock, “You went outside!?” His eyes shift around with furrowed brows, clearly angry that you went outside by yourself. “Are you out of your mind? You went outside the walls and hurt yourself!”

The sudden raise of his voice makes you flinch slightly, your shoulders dropping and eyes glossing. “It's dangerous out there! What if a Walker bit you or what if someone killed you!?” He adds on, turning his head as he points to the door.

Keeping your face down, you sniff. You avoid looking him in the eye as you bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. Sometimes you wish you weren’t this sensitive. You sniff again before feeling tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes.

“Why would you put yourself in danger? Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive right now—”

“I just wanted to get you a birthday gift,” you let out a small sob, lifting your teary gaze to Carl’s eyes. “I didn't mean to worry you." You bring a cold hand to wipe your tears, feeling frustrated.

Seeing your tears start to fall, Carl's expression softens as his anger disappears. Feeling guilty for being the cause of your tears, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you into a tight hug, not caring if you’re soaked and dripping from the rain. He just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t cry more.

You nuzzle into his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body slowly spread to your body. “I’m sorry, okay?” He softly whispered, his hands around your waist. “It’s too risky out there, you know that.”

Letting out soft cries, you tighten your arms over his back, pulling him closer. He speaks again, pulling away to see your face. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice is gentle with care, compared to a few moments ago.

Carl’s warm hands cup your face, staring into your teary eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry, Carl.” You whisper back, sniffing as he smiles faintly. “I’m sorry for raising my voice.” His blue eyes search yours as you return his smile.

“You mean so much to me, I don’t ever want to imagine losing you.” He then presses his lips to yours, his thumbs caressing the side of your cheeks.

He rests your forehead against yours after pulling away, closing his eyes as he enjoys your presence. “We should get your wound fixed and then get your warm bath ready.” Carl presses a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose before you nod in agreement, now remembering how uncomfortable and sticky your clothes feels.

[sokkastyles]

I was rewatching ATLA and it just occurred to me that Ozai's abuse of Zuko is largely implied rather than shown aside from the obvious abuse in the Agni Kai. When I watched it for the first time as a kid, my first impression in the earlier episodes was that Azula abused Zuko more than Ozai, and I think this is mostly because he was kept largely in shadow for most of the series while Azula had more direct interactions with Zuko. Of course, this is all learned behavior from Ozai, but it's not immediately obvious how exactly Ozai abused Zuko before that. It feels like this can lead one to believe that the Agni Kai was the only instance in which Ozai actually did anything to Zuko, which is unfortunately a take I've actually seen. So I'm just wondering how you feel it was shown in the series (comics excluded) that Ozai's abuse of Zuko was a pattern of behavior that's always been the case? Or just how he abused him in general? I see a lot of takes that suggest more physical violence but I feel like the Agni Kai is the first blatant act of physical violence. But what's your take?

I also think the agni kai was the first blatant act of physical violence. I go back and forth sometimes with my headcanons on it, but I think that if Ozai ever was physical with Zuko before it was subtle, like grabbing an arm (combined with an ability to create fire from one's fingertips, this can get very nasty, though). Mostly I agree, though, Ozai's violence is more psychological. I've also made the point that the agni kai itself is so effective because of the psychological violence of it, not just the physical violence. The way Ozai puts Zuko into an unwinnable situation before burning him is very calculated, the actual act of burning him is just the icing on top. He has to make Zuko believe he deserves to be burned first. And this is really common with a certain type of abuser that is all about control. The violence usually happens in a controlled escalation. This is also why I've said that although I don't think Ozai was physical with Zuko before, after the agni kai Zuko is physically not safe even if he's back in Ozai's good graces, because the violence has already escalated to the point where Ozai is likely to do it again or something worse. Perhaps even especially after Zuko is back under his control in book three. And the next time it happened, Zuko might not have survived it.

And yeah, early on a lot of our reference for what Ozai is like and how he treats Zuko is how Azula treats Zuko, but that's also part of how we know it's a pattern, and one that Azula and Zuko have both internalized. Azula would not have such power to hurt Zuko by saying their father thinks he's a failure if Ozai had not said those things to and about Zuko before.

As far as examples of Ozai's pattern of abusiveness with Zuko, I will point again to the agni kai and not just the violence, but how manipulative it is, because that's where the pattern is. Ozai manipulates Zuko even when he thinks Zuko has "redeemed" himself in book three, in ways that are more subtle but echo the psychological violence of the agni kai. Look at their first scene in book three, the way Ozai heaps Zuko with praise but circles him while Zuko is kneeling on the floor, clearly terrified. I am also convinced that Ozai intentionally sent Zuko to Ember Island to make him stew over not knowing what his father's intentions are and test his loyalty, and that he was doing the same thing by not letting Zuko know whether he was invited to the war meeting, but then telling him he was almost late at the last minute. He's playing mind games with his son's insecurity while claiming that Zuko now has a place of honor. It's a way to let him know that that place can be pulled out from under him at any second, that violence could happen at any time if Zuko says or does the wrong thing, which he will eventually do because Ozai is purposefully keeping him confused.

Just look at the Day of Black Sun. What was Zuko supposed to be doing there, while Ozai was hiding in his bunker and Azula was waiting for Aang and co. to arrive? If Zuko hadn't decided to join the Avatar, shouldn't he have had some role as Fire Nation prince to defend against the invasion? Yet Ozai acts surprised to see him, which tells me he was purposefully keeping Zuko confused and out of the loop yet again, or at the very least does not care where his son is while the palace is being invaded on the most vulnerable day for a firebender.

And when Zuko openly defies his father, and Ozai's attempts to manipulate Zuko by belittling him the way he always did or using his love for his mother against him, then the violence comes, and it's swift and sudden and deadly. Sure, Zuko's acts are outright treasonous now, but the way Ozai does not hesitate at all to act with lethal force towards his son once he realizes he can no longer control him definitely says something. I think for Ozai, the control is more preferable, and you can't control a dead person or someone who hates your guts, not in a way that feeds your ego, and Ozai definitely needs that. But if you've groomed someone to accept violence towards them as natural, it's like putting them in slowly boiling water. Ozai would have never gotten away with burning Zuko if he hadn't first convinced him he did something wrong, if he hadn't been using slow psychological violence to wear down Zuko's self esteem long before that.

[devine-fem]

Now… Due to my birdflash fixation, I have completely struck out and decided to make this post to explain why I read/headcanon them as exes. I now realize that this is going to be a long, drawn out way of saying “I think they have explored each other’s bodies,” well, it’s a little bit more than that 😭. In my head, I always felt as though Wally and Dick’s relationship sometimes read to me as two people who felt greatly for each other in their youths then over time found other people and new purpose and continued to pull away from the other.

Sometimes they treat each other kind of like how I’d treat an ex boyfriend or girlfriend, especially in Flash/Nightwing years.

Now I think it’s important to talk about their roles as Robin and Kid Flash, they are characters created to be relatable, the whole sidekick schtick was about appealing to the younger audience. It was such an early era that it should be noted that Dick and Wally did not have anyone else. Unlike now, Dick has a plethora of Robins to have seperate and distinct relationships with, same thing with Wally, any insecurities and worries can make someone feel extremely lonely. They did not have anyone, anyone but each other.

The early years for Robin and Kid Flash must had been confusing for the both of them so they had to confide in each other. Around this time I feel like it could be easier to fall more into a queerplatonic relationship with someone, Dick could feel confused and lonely, as he does then seeks and finds in Wally, with emotions hitting a peak I could totally see them accidentally falling for the other and sharing a relationship that’s a little more than friends…

It’s a big contrast. Wally has shown this big obligation for helping Dick and being there for him. This has always been strange to me. His inclination to try and be that person for him, which to me can feel like someone clinging to a relationship they know is slipping away.

It’s important to note that as Nightwing, the people there for Dick was not Wally, by this time, Wally became the Flash, found family, found love and entered the JLA. He was moving on and so was Dick but they still feel this inclination to call each other “best friends” though all the evidence says otherwise. It feels like one is clinging to a broken friendship to me.

He’s always so concerned for Dick because he knows how often he represses his emotions.

It’s why in my head, I can totally see Dick and Wally in their Robin/Kid Flash eras, losing their way, getting confused and confiding in each other in let’s say: a romantic way and now as adults they don’t know how to deal with it.

I know Dick is just thinking here but like, they do this A LOT. Like what is the need for this constant tension in the air with these two? Why is it so awkward? Why does it feel like there is something they want to say but can’t bring themselves to say it?

It makes my mind want to fill in the blanks…

Here they are saying flatly that it feels like an obligation. This is the closest they’ve gotten to really talking about how their dynamic has changed. It’s very sweet. It’d also be due to outside factors, like DC not knowing what to do with these two and refusing to let these two acknowledge that they are not best friends anymore and their lives have changed greatly. The thing about Superhero comics is that there’s so much fighting that the characters never get a chance to sit and just talk so it’s more the writers constantly trying to cling on to what they remember the Robin/Kid Flash dynamic to be and making it seem like these characters are clinging to their relationship.

Thry gush about the progress they make a lot and Wally feels like… I don’t know, his pride may fill the void the graysons left behind? Like he’s kind of a subtle replacement. It helps with my idea that Dick could be greiving his parents then quickly subconsciously seek and confide in Wally. Their relationship just is distinctly different from all their other friends in a way I can never pin down or the writers refuse to acknowledge. How Dick is much closer to Donna and Roy but they both still are mindlessly attached to one another like there’s this secret third thing keeping them together.

Wally has fully moved on and found his soulmate. Dick found Kory and fell pathetically in love but now he has nothing again and in canon still does this “Oh my best best friend to ever was, Wally~” It feels very much like someone hasn’t gotten over their little break up… 🙄 Even now they still comfort and talk about each other with a little bit more love and affection then they might do their other friends for this same weird reason.

Although, there’s one Wally West panel that Birdflash shippers had taken out of context: the one where Wally says “I got married and he didn’t.”

It’s not saying that Wally wishes he got married to Dick, 😭 but even then that goes into the little foulder of evidence that proves I think Wally and Dick’s relationship is ex-coded because it’s literally a bunch of thought bubbles about how Wally is heartbroken that he has moved on with his life and his life with Dick and they are no longer as close as they once were at all. (I can’t fit the panel in this post so I can just hope you know what I’m talking about) <- but my point is: Birdflash as a ship could be so much better if we stopped ignoring Linda and started treating them as exes instead. It’s so much more interesting. This is what I mean when I say they are my favorite exes.

[celaenaeiln]

What's the deal with fanon Tim bc I read some comics with Tim and I've seen him in cartoons but all I see people talk about is "haha coffee addicted nerd who doesn't sleep!" and that just seems weird and wrong. Like my view of Tim has always been "he's a nice and extremely smart guy who sometimes pushes things a bit too far and maybe a bit set in his own ways/Batman's ways" but now I'm not even sure of that because I really haven't read THAT much (mostly seen him in other series) lol

No you're right!! Anon you're so right!!!

What the heck is up with fanon Tim Drake??

The thing about him not sleeping is actually true though

Detective Comics (2016) Issue #937

Batman: Contagion Issue #11

(I agree with Catwoman, Tim is so cute)

So I understand where the coffee addiction in fanon comes from but Tim's not actually addicted to coffee in the comics. I actually don't recall him mentioning coffee at all. At some point he might have but if he did, then those instances are so little in the grand scheme of things it might as well be called negligible if it's trying to be called an addiction.

But more importantly, Tim is so much more than that!! My favorite Tim Drake aspect of him is how sassy and sarcastic he is, it makes him so endearing!!

UGH NO ONE APPRECIATES HOW MUCH OF A LITTLE SHIT HE IS!!

Robin (1993) Issue #58

CMON CMON CMON LETS TALK MORE ABOUT THIS!!

Tim, you little shit, you know exactly what they say - cause you did it!!

HIS SELF-SATISFIED SMILE!!!

In all honesty I find Tim the funniest of the entire batfamily to read because he's so-he's so wholesomely quirky in a mean way. That's such as awkward way to describe it but reading his comics, you just can't get enough of them because he's just too funny!

At one point he has a massive fever and stuck underground with a bunch of weird kids and one of the girls is just like "please get better, please get some rest!" as she's wiping away his sweat and Tim has like no breath or energy at this point. But with the last remains of will power, he uses his breath to push one last question between lips.

Robin (1993) Issue #70

And as the audience waits in baited anticipation we get this-

Robin (1993) Issue #70

It's actually a very valid question and shows his detective thinking and yada yada yada but THE COMEDIC GOLD OF HIS TIMING!!

Like his situation and his question there's a massive gap that's almost incomprehensible about it all which is why it's so fantastic!!

The way he sasses batman is top 5 fav moments with him.

Azrael: Agent of the Bat Issue #91

Thanks @paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 for finding it again <33

But Tim overall is just like a normal kid. He's what authors tried to do with Stephanie but failed. They were able to make him relatable to the audience because the way he acts, it's so quirky but funny. Yes, he's a boy detective genius but he likes messing with people, he likes solving crime, he likes hanging out with his big brother, he asks for relationship advice, he can get insecure, he can get upset without acting cold, he gets tired, he gets anxious, he's determined, and he's super dorky.

Robin (1993) Issue #25

Like really dorky.

But what I think really defines him is this panel

Robin (1993) Issue #48

This scene is probably what explains him best. Tim is someone who ponders a lot. He thinks constantly all the time whether it's about cases or his personal life, he just goes over the choices he makes constantly because he's just soul-searching alot.

He always means well even if he's awkward about it and he's just a diverse personality overall. The fanon interpretation of his character doesn't really do him any justice because it doesn't address how funny he is or confused or just a likeable, real person in general.