#don’t judge me too hard this is mid LOL

[werecatboy]

This was originally meant to be a warmup sketch but I went a little crazy in the end.

Trying to get myself back into drawing regularly is hard because I’m so fuckin rusty LOL

[pagesfromthevoid]

Ya'aburnee | r. r.

Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Avenger!witch!reader

And I never got to tell you how I love the way my eyes make yours look green too

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Witchcraft

Author's Note: I combined @domoron's request with an idea I had so I hope you don't mind my dude. Also, there will probably be a part two (but this is NOT a series lol)

Talk to Me! | AO3

“This place has really gone to shit, huh?”

Bucky just sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, as she stands in the foyer of the common space. Yelena has her feet kicked up on the table, eyes drifting up from her tablet. Walker was passing through, but has stopped mid-step as Ava cocks her head to the side like she’s trying to understand. The only people who don’t seem to be mildly annoyed by her presence are Alexei, who is just barely containing his excitement, and Bob, who is looking between her and Bucky like he’s seeing two celebrities at once.

She shifts her weight onto one leg, crossing her arms over her chest as she takes in the motley crew before her. The New Avengers. The group that’s supposed to replace her and her friends and defend earth from whatever is thrown at them –and they all look like they haven’t slept properly in their entire life. 

There’s a file on every single one of them –and she’s read each one several times over. She’s known Bucky for several years now –went to war for him, even. The others she’s heard of in passing –Yelena and Alexei from Natasha; Walker from Sam. The other two –Ava, Bob –she doesn’t know outside of news reports and files. And even then, Bob’s file is the newest.

Hard to believe the guy sitting in the corner is some all powerful being who put New York into a blackout. But who is she to judge?

“Are you here to be helpful, or are you here to be an asshole?” Bucky asks, standing up finally. Four strides and he’s standing in front of her.

“I can do both,” she points out, uncrossing her arms and putting her hands on her hips. “But I’m sure that’s not what you want, is it?”

“I called you for a reason, Hex,” he reminds her, shaking his head. His voice is lower now, like he’s trying to keep the rest of his team from hearing. “You…you know what a team is able to do. We are not the Avengers. We’re not a team; we’re a time bomb.”

“You know,” she interrupts, but she’s softened some around the edges. “Dr. Banner said the exact same thing.”

*****

It’s hard to admit, but the New Avengers —this ragtag team of assholes —are a better team than the Avengers ever were. Not in the sense of power —no, but in the sense of camaraderie. They actually seem to care about one another; not just passing friends or colleagues. 

Yeah, the Avengers cared about each other. But not like this. Not like an actual family. 

It is a hard thing to realize; to accept that, while maybe her team was efficient and good at their jobs, they were only friends because they had to be. Sure, there were closer friendships separately —Nat and Clint, who had history already. She and Steve became close after Bucky almost killed them both years ago. But the Avengers were surface level friends.

Which is totally okay, at the end of the day. 

They did their jobs. They saved the universe. Then…they moved on. 

But the New Avengers…they care about each other. In a weird, almost sibling-like way. There’s a lot of arguing; a lot of yelling. But they frequently eat dinner together, at a table. Even when they're battered and bloody, they will sit down and eat whatever they manage to find. But together. 

The first time she’s invited to join “family time,” as Alexei calls it, she’s confused. He ushers her to the table and sits her down beside Bob, insisting that she has to join. No one else has joined yet, and Bob says they’re all usually late. 

“What’s going on? Mission briefing?” She asks, leaning over closer to Bob to whisper. 

He looks down at her, confused himself. “Oh, uh —we’re having dinner. It’s Walker’s turn to cook this week.”

“You…eat dinner together?” She pushes, and Bob seems like he’s enjoying that she’s confused. Maybe because he finally has something he can explain to her instead of the other way around. 

“Alexei makes us all eat together,” he explains, biting at his nails. “I…I like it. It feels nice, like for an hour we get to pretend we’re normal.”

“You do this every night?” 

He nods some, though he looks like he’s considering the answer. “Most nights, at least. Depends on what they’re doing, or if they’re here. Sometimes I don’t join, for uh…you know, reasons.”

She knows what he means. Even if she hadn’t read his file, she would be able to tell that Bob struggles with a lot. 

“I understand,” she offers, putting a hand on his arm. He flinches, and she pulls back almost immediately. But when he opens his eyes, he seems confused. “Are you okay?”

“Are…are you? You didn’t —did you see anything?”

“I saw you flinch, Bob —that’s all I saw.”

There’s almost immediate relief in his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders drops as he leans back in his chair. She’s about to ask him another question when the rest of the team find their way to the table and sit. 

Then it’s like she’s always been a part of the team. 

Maybe that’s the day they all just decided that she’s a New Avenger and an Avenger. Because after that dinner, she doesn’t leave. Her things have found their way to a room across from Bob’s and next to Yelena. She trains and spars and argues with everyone. 

The only thing she doesn’t do is go on missions. Mostly because Valentina insists she is not part of the team —but she’s also pretty sure Valentina thinks it’s bad for optics somehow. Of course, she doesn’t mind not going on missions. She stays back in the command center, manning the comms and computers. Bob often joins her, and she helps him learn how to operate the tools here. 

“This is…good. I get this,” he says one day, looking over a map with moving dots —the team —on it. “I’m able to help finally without…you know, getting in the way.”

“I doubt you’re in the way,” she reassures, sliding her chair over towards him, reaching across him to hit a button on the screen to send coordinates. “But I’m glad you enjoy learning.”

He hums a bit as she reaches across him. She notes how warm he is, even at a distance. 

“The target is about five miles ahead,” she reminds the team, pulling back but still next to him. Her eyes are on his screen. “There’s eight armored vehicles but there’s no one manning them.”

Bob is biting at his nails again, something she’s noticed he does a lot when he’s restless, and she instinctively reaches over to stop him. Gently, without even thinking about what she’s doing, she pulls his hand away and just holds it while she punches in the next set of coordinates. The only reason she realizes what she’s done is because Bob, instead of pulling away, squeezes her hand. That’s when she looks between their hands and him, and he gives her a timid smile. She returns the smile and the gesture, squeezing his hand back before Bucky is asking for her to map out an exit route. 

There’s a sigh of relief when they get out –back on the jet, back in the air. She shuts the comms off and leans back, staring at the screen for a moment. Then she turns to Bob.

“Wanna grab something to eat?”

He hesitates, like he thinks she’s talking to someone else, but then he nods. “Uh yeah –we can make something –,”

“I meant, like –do you want to go out and get something,” she corrects, standing up and stretching. “They won’t be back until close to two in the morning so we have some time to kill.”

Bob visibly blanches and she frowns some as he slowly stands. “I don’t…I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I haven’t really, you know, left the Tower since everything happened with…with him.”

“I trust you,” she promises, holding her hand out to him.

“I don’t,” he admits, but he takes her hand cautiously. “Can we…can we just pick up something and bring it back?”

It’s a step, she thinks. 

When they return to the Tower with two bags of Thai food (Bob insisted on getting everyone something, even if they had to reheat it), they sit on the floor in front of the window and eat in comfortable silence. She tries to think about the last time she’s just sat with someone like this, and it hurts to realize it’s been too long. Before the Avengers destroyed Sokkovia –god, more than ten years. When her grandmother was still alive and blessing the apartment with incense and cinnamon. Then she thinks about the last time she practiced properly, and that hurts just as much.

“I uh,” Bob suddenly says, looking out the window. Avoiding her gaze, like he might be in trouble when he finishes his sentence. “I read your file the other day.”

“I’ve read yours too,” she offers, like it’s a right of passage to read about your friends to get to know them better. “I didn’t know Valentina had my file.”

“She doesn’t,” he reassures, mixing his rice up carefully. “Bucky uh, gave it to me.”

“And what did you learn about me, Bob?”

“Are you…,” he hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it. It’s always a little funny, watching as people try to come to terms with what she is. Especially relatively normal people. “Are you really…like, a witch?”

“Does that scare you?” She asks, setting her food down. 

“I…I don’t know,” he admits, looking down at his hands for a moment. “I guess not? Should I be?”

Shaking her head, she lifts her hand and with a careful swish of her wrist, tendrils of light wrap around her hand. It’s a soft green, slithering over her fingers and up her arm. The Tower is dark enough that the magic illuminates their small space, and Bob’s eyes are wide as he follows each branch of the magic forms into another.

“Is this…do you do like –I don’t know, crystals and all that stuff?” He asks, though he’s reaching up like he’s going to touch the tendrils. 

She doesn’t stop him, tilting her head to the side as his fingers graze them. They wrap around him briefly –warm, soft, like a whisper against his skin –before retreating back to her. 

“I do,” she offers as the magic drifts away into the air, mist surrounding them before evaporating into the empty space. “I even have a broom.”

“Really?” He asks, eyes wide as he looks at her, back straight. 

“Not the way you think, but yes,” she laughs, leaning back. “Practicing witches use brooms for purification purposes –sweep away the negative energies. I’m sure I could fly on it, but that’s more because of me enchanting it and not the broom itself.”

“So you’re…you’re like actually a witch –not just, magic powers but like…the crystal stores and the candles and all that?”

“All the women in my family are witches,” she explains, holding out her hand again. The tendrils return, but this time they wrap around his hand and pull him gently towards her. “My grandmother raised me, and taught me. My mom passed before she could teach me anything. But yes, I practice the actual act of witchcraft while also actually having magic. No experiments or needles needed.”

His eyes light up with the emerald magic, watching as it tugs him into her orbit. Bob doesn’t fight it, too mesmerized by the feel of it against his skin. 

“That’s why I didn’t see anything when I touched you,” she explains, taking his hand in hers. The tendrils swirl around their hands, slinking up his sleeve and over his shoulders. He follows it carefully, like it’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Maybe it is. “I shield myself from the shadows –and that’s all your powers are. That’s all…he is. A shadow, trying to pry and consume.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as the tendrils slowly wrap around them entirely. Holding them together, like the magic itself is trying to bring them closer together. She’s got a good control over it, she always has, but sometimes it’s got a mind of its own. It’s hard to explain to people that her magic is a living thing, that it’s not just a part of her but it’s own entity. She just hosts it, and thanks it. But she thinks Bob would understand this better than anyone else, because he…he has his own entities. Perhaps he doesn’t like them, but he has them.

“Is…the shielding. Can you…can you teach someone that?” His voice is soft, a little shaky suddenly. But there’s a hopeful undertone as he meets her eyes. 

“I can,” she promises. And it is a promise. “Shielding is less magic and more intentions –and I can absolutely teach you if that’s what you want.”

“I…I would really like that.”

_______

Part two

_______

Bob Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @k1ttyjuice @magikdarkholme @yesshewrites1 @evanbabybear @jaes-last-words @keira-kaz2y5

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to their s/o stuttering while explaining something

Request: Celeste hello it's me again LMAOOO I hope you're doing fine my queen 🫶 so hear me out, ot13 with s/o that always stutter whenever they tried to talk with them or explain something that they don't understand. I hate that whenever I tried to explain something to my friends, I'm always stuttering ended up I became quite person 😔 idk if you already nake it or not.

- ⭐️ anon

A/N: Aww my love, first of all, you’re amazing just the way you are and stuttering when explaining something doesn’t make you any less smart or capable! Please don’t let stuttering stop you from speaking up. You have important things to say and your voice deserves to be heard! Sending you so much love!

Absolutely Patient Kings (Would Wait Forever for You to Finish Without Rushing You)

Joshua: The most reassuring and patient partner. He’d probably hold your hands while you talk, nodding and smiling to encourage you. If you got flustered, he’d rub your back and say, “No rush, sweetheart. Just tell me however you can.” Even if you ended up not finishing your explanation, he’d still act like he understood just to make you feel better.

Wonwoo: He’d just stare at you with soft eyes, never once interrupting or making you feel rushed. If you got too frustrated, he’d calmly say, “It’s okay, take your time.” He hates the thought of you going quiet because you feel insecure. If you ever gave up mid-sentence, he’d encourage you to try again or just wait until you feel ready.

Woozi: He might seem intimidating at first but he’s actually super patient. He understands that thoughts can be hard to put into words sometimes (since yk, he's a songwriter sou; it's different from stuttering but you get the point), so he’d just listen, nodding along to make you feel comfortable. If you ever got upset, he’d softly say, “It’s fine, baby. Just say whatever comes to mind. I get you.”

Encouraging Sweethearts (Would Help You Find the Right Words Without Making You Feel Bad)

Dokyeom: Would be the most verbal with his support. “Awww, my baby is working so hard to explain! So cute.” If you got upset, he’d say, “Hey, hey! No getting mad at yourself. Take your time, jagi. I’ll wait forever if I have to!” He’d try to finish your sentences but only if you wanted him to. If you shook your head, he’d laugh and say, “Okay, okay! I won’t guess, you got this!”

Mingyu: Would physically encourage you like nodding enthusiastically, leaning in closer, or squeezing your hands. If you got too flustered, he’d pout and say, “Why are you embarrassed? I love hearing you talk!” He’d make you feel so so so safe that even if you were stuttering like crazy, you wouldn’t feel judged at all.

Seungkwan: He’d notice if you’re struggling and immediately jump in to help. “Wait, are you trying to say [this]?” If he guessed wrong, he’d giggle and say, “Oops, my bad. Keep going, baby, I’m listening.” He’d never let you feel embarrassed about stuttering—he’d even make fun of himself for the times he trips over his own words just to make you laugh lol. That's how much of a sweetheart our boo seungkwan is.

Dino: Dino would be so supportive but also a little bit awkward at first because he wouldn’t know how to help. He’d be like, “Uh…do you need me to like…wait? Or should I help?” He would never judge you and over time, he’d probably develop his own way of helping you feel comfortable. He’d even joke around like, “It’s okay, jagiya, I stutter when I rap too!”

Would Try to Decode Your Words (Determined to Understand You No Matter What)

Jun: Would be the most dramatic about it in the cutest way. If you stuttered too much, he’d go, “Ahhh! The suspense! I must know what you’re trying to say!” He’d grab your shoulders and act like he’s on the edge of his seat. You’d roll your eyes, but his goofy ass would make you laugh and forget about feeling insecure.

Hoshi: Would take this as a challenge. If you stuttered too much, he’d squint and go, “Okay, wait. I think you’re trying to say...hmm…” He’d get all dramatic about it, acting like Sherlock Holmes trying to solve a mystery. “Okay, one more time, baby! I’m almost there!” You’d end up laughing and he’d just grin and say, “See? No stress! Just talk however you want.”

Vernon: Would be so chill about it that you wouldn’t even feel nervous after a while. He’d nod and hum while you talk, even if you were struggling to explain. If you gave up, he’d shrug and say, “It’s cool, I kinda get what you mean. But also, no pressure, you don’t have to explain if you don’t wanna.” He’d make you feel like stuttering isn’t a big deal at all, which would actually help you feel less self-conscious.

Would Try to ‘Fix’ the Problem (But Only Because They Love You So Much)

Seungcheol: He’d notice if you were getting frustrated with yourself and would not let that slide. “Hey. Stop that. You’re explaining just fine.” If you got quiet, he’d cup your face, “You don’t have to rush. Just say what you can.” He’d be so reassuring that even if you were a mess of stutters, you’d feel safe trying again.

Jeonghan: Would tease you about it but only to make you laugh and ease your nerves. If you got too flustered, he’d smirk and say, “Why are you so nervous? It’s just me, angel.” He’d never let you feel insecure but if he saw you getting upset, he’d immediately drop the teasing and softly say, “I’ll wait as long as it takes, okay?”

Minghao: Hao hates seeing you get frustrated. He’d say (with that soft voice of his), “Take a deep breath, love. No need to rush.” But if you kept struggling, he’d eventually ask, “Do you want me to guess? Or should we write it down instead?” He wouldn’t want to “fix” you but would try to find ways to make you feel less stressed about talking.

[daemour]

I Can See You

Pairing: single dad! Seonghwa x babysitter! f! yn

Word Count: 10,137

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, a creepy old man in one scene, age gap (10 years but both are adults (and not just barely)), smut warnings under cut

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut, single parent au, M for mature audiences

Summary: When you took a job babysitting a young toddler, you didn't expect to be so drawn to the family. And more specifically, her frustratingly hot and single dad.

Smut Warnings: masturbation, sexual fantasies, riding, slight (if you squint) corruption kink, sliGHT breeding kink, unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), breast play, overstimulation, undiscussed kinks (yn is fine with it. but discuss your fucking kinks guys *gun emoji*), slight cumplay

thank u to @pyeonghongrie and @mingsolo for beta'ing and for the title hehe <3 this is also a collab with @potatomountain who is also writing a dilf hwa (Bittersweet Neighbours), we're just on two sides of the spectrum lol...and this is so damn long

-

“Hello, I’m here for a babysitter interview with a Mr Park?”

“That would be me. Miss (Y/N)?”

When you answered the ad in the newspaper about babysitting, you were so ready to see an older man, around his fifties. But this man looked so young, around his late twenties although you’re sure he’s probably forty. And you’re not one to judge—nearing your mid-twenties one wouldn’t be expecting you to still babysit as a full-time job. But it pays the bills and helps you get some hands-on experience in your degree, child development.

“Ah, yes. That’s me,” your words spill out as you realise he is awaiting an answer. Mentally, you berate yourself for the immediate blunder while Mr Park’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

“Come on in and make yourself comfy on the couch. I’ll be right there. Would you like anything to drink?” Mr Park’s voice is smooth like butter and you have a hard time making sure you don’t get lost in it.

Again, you nod, actual wordy responses jumbled in your brain, walking to the couch and sitting down almost mechanically. If you were mentally present, you would have noticed the smile the older man sends your way.

He doesn’t take too long, returning with two glasses of water. “You didn’t say what you wanted to drink so I just got you water. Is that okay?”

Thankfully, you finally can respond coherently and smile, albeit a little shakily. “Yes, thank you so much.”

You take the glass with both hands, thanking him again quietly and taking a small sip before just holding it as you wait for him to be seated. You’ve felt awkward before, but this is a new extreme. Normally you pride yourself on keeping your cool in front of someone you think is hot, but Mr Park…he’s something else. You try your best to keep your eyes trained on the coffee table, only letting yourself glance at him occasionally so he doesn’t realise just how in awe you are.

“Jihee will be home from school soon, so you’ll see her soon. For now it’ll just be old me and my questions,” Mr Park starts his interview as soon as he sits on the couch across from you. “Now, I saw in your application that your major was in child development? Can I ask why that interested you?”

You blink at him for a moment, not expecting that question. Sure, bringing it up was expected, but the way he sounds like he’s interviewing you for a position in a company amuses you. “Uh…I just grew up with a lot of siblings and their kids. I’m the youngest of six, and the oldest is sixteen years older than me so I have a lot of nieces and nephews as well. Children have always been a part of my life, and my first job was babysitting so it’s something I’m very used to. Child development was just a way for me to learn even more and in a less… hands-on way. Poopy diapers are not my favourite.” You pause. “Not that I can’t change them! Or that Jihee uses them. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

You’re so sure your face is bright red right now as you stumble over your words, and you’re ready to be kicked out, but all Mr Park does instead is laugh at your embarrassment. It’s a little mean but it’s better than your worst conclusion so you’ll take it. “It’s okay,” Mr Park smiles at you. “It’s okay to ramble, it was actually quite amusing. Now, I’d just like to warn you, Jihee has trouble with working on schoolwork. While that usually isn’t an issue, she may be asking you to help her with her homework and reading and I just thought I’d give you a heads up. Would that cause any trouble?”

“It wouldn’t bother me, and I’ll try my best. I took children’s education in college as well so it’d be a good time for me to exercise that,” you laugh quietly. Your first dream was to be a governess, no matter how few jobs there are for that type of work.

Mr Park nods thoughtfully. “Glad to give you some experience in that,” he hums after careful consideration, a smile on his face. “Her struggles lie in understanding the problems and in English. If she faces any difficulty then I can always help out.”

Before either of you continues speaking, his watch beeps and he glances down. Without another word, he stands and goes to open the front door. “Uh–” Your confusion escapes you before you can stop it.

“Oh, Jihee’s almost home and I always leave the door open for her,” he explains, eyes still trained on his watch. “You’ll get to meet her, and then we can discuss more details. And just to reiterate the ad, this is going to be a job that requires a lot of hours. I, of course, will be paying you for any sort of overtime if I need to stay at the office later. Does your schedule still allow for that?”

You hold back your smile. Your schedule mostly consists of scrolling the internet for job opportunities and eating lunch with your friends. “Yes, I can do that,” you affirm. “I’ll need holidays off, but I assume that’s a given as you’ll also be with Jihee?”

A smile pulls at the corner of Mr Park’s mouth. “Very astute,” he chuckles. “Now, here she comes.”

The door swings open without another word from either of you and a little girl dressed in pink and ribbons barrels into Mr Park’s knees. He lets out a quiet grunt, stabilising himself against the door as his hand strokes at her hair. “Hello, Jihee,” he hums fondly. "How was school today?"

The young girl beams up at her father. "So fun!" she grins, her words slightly slurred in her excitement. "Today, Mrs Lee had us do shapes and my favourite colour is blue now! I have so many blue crayons."

Mr Park's eyebrow raises at the mention of crayons. "Do you have them with you?" he asks, and Jihee nods vigorously. "Can I see them?"

Another nod comes from the child and she immediately plops on the floor, pulling out her pencil case and opening it to reveal at least ten crayons, all of varying sizes. What stands out to you the most is that half of them are green. "See! All blue. But this one's my favourite." She grabs at a particularly long and skinny one, a shade of emerald green.

"Ah. Lovey, remember, your colours are a little different, right?" Mr Park talks in a gentle voice, very different from the very adult voice he used with you. "That's a green crayon."

Jihee's face drops. "Oh." Her bottom lip juts out in a pout.

Mr Park holds out his hand and Jihee drops the crayon into his palm. "You can't take the crayons from school anyway, dear. Why don't we leave these in your bag and you can give them back and apologise to Mrs Lee tomorrow?"

Jihee's pout grows bigger but she nods. "Okay, daddy," she agrees and Mr Park nods proudly.

"Now, do you want to meet your new friend?" You flinch as Mr Park mentions you, sitting up straighter in your chair before ultimately deciding to stand instead.

"Hi, Jihee," you do your best to speak with the same quiet tone Mr Park used. "I'm (Y/N)! It's nice to meet you."

You offer your hand for her to shake and Jihee looks at you, her thinking face almost a spitting image of her father's before she walks over and takes your hand with gusto. "Hi, Mrs (Y/N).”

"Ah, I'm not a Mrs," you correct her. "You can call me (Y/N)."

"Miss (Y/N)," Mr Park quietly interrupts and you nod, not wanting to override his parenting although being called 'miss' will catch you off-guard for the time being. "Why don't you tell her one thing about yourself and then Miss (Y/N) has to go, okay?"

Jihee's mouth twists in sadness, her hand still gripping yours. "Okay," she sighs again. "I get to talk to her more later though, right?"

Mr Park nods. "Of course. Miss (Y/N) will be spending a lot of time with you, so I'm glad you like her."

Jihee nods solemnly. "I like pretty people and you're super pretty," she tells you earnestly and your heart swells at the compliment.

“Thank you, Jihee,” you thank her genuinely, although you’re amused at the fact that she considers her appreciation for physical looks a good introduction to herself. “It was nice to meet you.”

With another decisive nod, Jihee turns and marches right off down the hall, presumably to her room. Mr Park turns to you, finally shutting his front door with a sigh. “That was Jihee. Ball of energy extraordinaire. She comes home from school at one-thirty, and will put her own things away before coming to eat a snack. She has one worksheet to do a day but with your help she’ll get it fairy quickly. I’ll email you a list of house rules.”

You nod. “That sounds perfect. What would the schedule look like? What time would I be here, and when would I expect you to come home?”

Mr Park hums, running a hand through his perfect hair. “For her school days, I’d like to have you in here maybe ten minutes before she comes. I’ll always leave her snack in the fridge and you can just pop it in the microwave and make yourself comfortable before she comes barrelling in. Then I’ll be home at five-thirty sharp whenever possible. Every other Saturday I’m in the office for eight hours and you’ll be watching Jihee for those days. If you can’t do a Saturday, just let me know so I can get someone to watch her, but generally I’d like you here from eight to five.”

You nod. All your friends have atypical work schedules so your Saturdays are empty in general, and since the weekdays are shorter hours you don’t mind. “When it comes to after-school playdates, should I expect you to be home or would you like me to take care of them?”

Mr Park’s lips tighten almost imperceptibly. “That won’t be an issue. Jihee doesn’t do playdates.” Your curiosity spikes at his short answer but his tone leaves no room for discussion so you don’t press it. “I’ll give you a key now. Tomorrow is my off-Saturday but if you can come in just to adjust yourself that would be great. I have some work to get done anyway so I’ll be mostly out of your hair although you can still ask me questions.”

You nod again. “Yeah, that works,” you confirm after a quick check to your phone calendar. When you look up, Mr Park is already holding out a key and you take it after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Mr Park nods, moving to open the door when Jihee calls out with a whining tone to her voice. “Daddy, I need help!”

Mr Park sighs but it’s full of affection for his daughter. “I would walk you to your car but she calls for me,” his head dips into an apologetic bow but you shake your head.

“Don’t worry about it,” you smile at him. “There’s no need for that at all.” That is one of the main reasons, but another part of you doesn’t want him to know you have no car and you take the bus to his neighbourhood and then walk the rest of the way.

A twenty-four-year-old with no car? It’s a little embarrassing, especially in the area you both live in where it’s almost required to have a car to do anything. Generally, your babysitting jobs were close enough to your home, but the salary of this job enticed you to give up walking.

As you exit, you can hear Jihee starting off her complaints about her jacket and you smile to yourself subconsciously.

-

You’ve been working with the Parks for almost a month now and generally, it’s a good time. You only really see Mr Park when he comes home, but by then you have one foot out the door. There are days when he looks so beaten down that you want to offer him some encouragement, but you don’t want to step out of your boundaries. So, you just keep your head down and leave.

Jihee is sweet and easy-going, not hard for you to get along with. She always has some sort of fun idea for you to play along with and her schoolwork hasn’t been too terrible although you dread when she starts getting into more difficult maths.

But today, as soon as Jihee walks into the door, you suspect something is wrong. She doesn’t greet you as excitedly as she used to, just stalking straight into her bedroom and coming right now, settling herself down on the couch with a pout on her face.

“Jihee, don’t you want to eat?” you try to coax her to the dinner table, but she just shakes her head, immobile. You frown. It’s strange for the usually talkative child to be this closed off. “Did something happen at school?”

Jihee glares at the coffee table, shaking her head. “No,” she mutters but her cold-stone facade drops immediately as she suddenly bursts into tears. Your heart drops for the child crying on your couch and you immediately run to her and pull her into your arms. “Why don’t they like me?” she wails into your shirt and your heart drops.

You had suspected it when Mr Park shut down the playdate idea very quickly, but this just solidifies your thoughts. How could the kids at school not like such a sweet kid? As you’ve been working for the Parks for quite a bit now, you’ve grown to adore the young girl like she was one of your own nieces.

You don’t say anything just yet, just patting her hair and doing your best to calm her down. It takes almost an hour but now she just curls up in your arms, her hands gripping your shirt as she’s so close to falling asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up so you resign yourself to letting her sleep on you for now.

Within ten minutes, you fall asleep as well. It’s not what you meant to do, but you couldn’t have stopped yourself. When your eyes open again, Jihee is no longer in your arms and there’s a large fluffy blanket laid on top of you. You blink yourself awake before panic sets in and you shoot up, looking around. “Jihee?” you call out and hear deep laughter behind you. When your head snaps back you see Mr Park chuckling at your face.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss (Y/N).”

It takes a minute for your words to register, blinking stupidly at your employer for a few moments before your face drops and you practically leap off the couch. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, bowing rapidly at a low angle. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep and it won’t happen again.”

You keep your eyes lowered and you look up at him through your lashes, scared of how he’ll react but to your surprise, Mr Park’s smile grows and he shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, you looked comfortable and the doors were locked. Jihee didn’t get into any trouble, just was a little bored since you were asleep.”

You shake your head. “Regardless, I shouldn’t sleep on the job but thank you for the kindness. Jihee is very responsible for her age and it certainly reflects on your parenting.” You smile back at him.

“Well, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot to me as well,” Mr Park hums. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I know you usually leave around the time I get back but let me at least feed you before you go.”

You frown. “I’d like to, but I should get going,” you say absentmindedly. “I have to make it in time to catch the bus.”

You’re looking around, trying to gather your belongings, when you realise how silent Mr Park is. And in turn, you realise what you just said. “You take the bus?” His voice lowers and you stare at the look of concern he has on his face. “It’s practically dark by the time you leave and you’re walking to the bus stop by yourself?”

“Ah– it’s okay! It’s not a far walk, just up the street.” You hurry to defend your choices, waving your hands. “I’ve gotten home safe so far, no?”

Mr Park shakes his head. “No, you can’t take chances. I’ll drive you home tonight after dinner. You must stay.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, but his stance is unwavering. And as much as you would usually protest—being taken home by a much older man would usually ring alarms in your head—the idea of not having to wait in the cold and the dark by yourself is very appealing. And from how you’ve interacted with him before, Mr Park seems very sweet, and you trust him just a little more than you probably should.

“Well, I do thank you for your kindness,” you sigh, nodding your head in concession. “But this will be the only time.”

Mr Park chuckles, not taking you seriously. “We’ll see. Now come on. Tonight is beef stew and my younger brother will come for dinner as well.”

“Uncle Uyu is coming?” You can hear Jihee’s excited voice coming from the kitchen as well as her feet pittering on the floor as she launches herself into your lap. “Hi again, Miss (Y/N).”

“Hello again, Miss Jihee,” you tease, pressing the tip of your finger to her forehead and Jihee giggles.

“Are you staying for dinner?” You nod again and she screeches in happiness, not giving a second glance at how you wince at the sound. “I can’t wait! I have to make you pretty! Come with me.”

With as much seriousness as she can muster in her body, she pulls you by the hand into her room as Mr Park watches the two of you with a soft smile and follows the two of you into Jihee’s room. He takes a seat on the bed as Jihee fusses over your hair, styling it with her toddler's hands and putting an obscene amount of hair clips into it. But you’re whipped for the little girl and you let her do whatever she wants, ending up in two uneven pigtails and a plethora of Hello Kitty clips.

“Daddy, isn’t it pretty?” Jihee giggles, moving your head to tilt so her father can take a look at her work. “It’s better than your hair to practice!”

Mr Park, mock-affronted, holds his hand to his chest. “Betrayed by my own daughter? Alas, but I can let it slide as this may very well be your best work.”

Jihee giggles, pressing her face against your cheek when the doorbell rings. “Uncle Uyu!” As always, her focus is diverted by any new thing and she runs for the door, both you and Mr Park following shortly after. As she yanks the door open, a man around Seonghwa’s age greets her just as excitedly, bending down to pick her up and spin her around.

“Jiji,” he cheers, “Already so big?” His eyes find you and you offer a small wave. “And who’s this? Seonghwa, you found a girl?”

Mr Park’s jaw drops and your eyes widen as you rush to contradict. “Oh, no, no, I’m just the babysitter. Mr Park has kindly invited me for dinner.”

Wooyoung chuckles at the look on both your faces. “Don’t worry, I just like to pull on Seonghwa’s leg. You’re a little young for him too.”

You offer a smile. “Yeah, and the forties are a little out of my age range as well,” you try to joke, but to your surprise, Wooyoung breaks out cackling, startling Jihee who starts laughing with him confusedly. Mr Park’s shocked face has somehow become even more intense.

“You think I’m how old?” Wooyoung has reigned in his laughter although a smile still pulls at his lips. “I’m only thirty-four!”

A gasp made its way out of your mouth as you start bowing rapidly again in apology. “I’m so sorry! You look your age, I just assumed you had to be older.”

Mr Park sighs, although an amused smile now graces his face. “It’s okay, I can understand it. I’ll just be giving you a hard time from now on.” He punctuates with a wink and your eyes snap down to Jihee in embarrassment.

“Let’s get on with dinner so I can go home and just melt in embarrassment, okay?” you groan and the two older men laugh. Jihee seems to agree with your sentiment, declaring her hunger grumpily and you laugh and pick her up. “See, even Jihee’s on my side. Let’s eat now.”

Mr Park hums, stepping aside. “All right, I see I’m outnumbered now. I hope you don’t mind how casual this dinner is, but I promise the food is worth it. Wooyoung’s the better cook, but he’s taught me a few tricks.”

You shrug. “Any food is good food to me. At home, I have instant ramen and fried rice so it’s a nice change.”

Out of disapproval, Mr Park shakes his head although the smile does not leave his face. “I do not miss my college diet. Please, take a seat.” He motions to the dinner table, pulling out a chair for you to seat yourself, sitting beside you as Wooyoung and Jihee join the other side of the table.

“So, tell me about yourself (Y/N),” Wooyoung hums, leaning on the table by his elbows. “You’re in college?”

You shake your head. “I graduated a year and a half ago, I’m twenty-four now, but it feels like just yesterday I was taking my finals,” you chuckle. “What was your major, Mr Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung smiled, “Please, call me Wooyoung. Mr Wooyoung just sounds weird. But to answer your question, my major was culinary, of course. Before I taught Hwa how to cook, he was hopeless. I think I was feeding him and Jihee primarily other than his sandwiches and canned soup.” He sighs, leaning back and smirking at Mr Park whose ears are red.

“Hey, Youngah, I paid you for your work. Don’t make me seem incompetent,” Mr Park snorts, leaning over to smack the back of his neck. “Wooyoung may be eight years younger than me but he certainly acts like he’s five.”

You laugh at the banter. “Me and my siblings were the same way. We’d always fight but in the end, we care for each other. It’s sweet to see you guys act the same.” You smile, taking a bite of your stew. “Thank you for letting me sit in on your family dinner.”

Mr Park shakes his head. “Of course. Can’t let you walk on your own at night, you know. I’d be happy to give you a ride home from now on.”

“Ah, no, I can’t make you do that,” you try and decline again but Seonghwa is having none of that.

“It’s not a matter of making me, I offered. I can’t let my babysitter just stand around in the dark. Let me do this for you. Jihee cares for you, she wouldn’t want to make you get hurt.”

You frown, pursing your lips. “I suppose I can’t argue with that,” you concede. “Thank you once again.”

Mr Park shakes his head, his hand moving up to ruffle your hair. “Don’t worry about it.” His hand rests atop your head a moment longer before he remembers who he is in relation to you. “Ah, sorry. Habit from Jihee.”

The heartfelt moment is cut loose by everyone amused at Mr Park’s habit. Jihee immediately takes the initiative to start rambling about stickers, engrossing everyone in the conversation, Wooyoung being particularly vocal. The dinner is finished with no other events, and you offer to help clean up, ignoring Mr Park when he tries to protest.

“Thank you for helping out,” he tries to thank you but you wave your hand dismissively.

“You fed me and are driving me home. It’s the least I could do. Shall we head out though? I don’t want you to have to leave Jihee for too long.”

Mr Park nods, grabbing his keys and jangling them as he opens the door to the garage. You do your best to not show your surprise at the sight of his fancy car. Of course, you knew he was well off, but you never imagined you’d actually be sitting in his car. He even opens the door for you, letting you slide into the passenger seat.

You hold yourself stiffly, but Mr Park looks over and just laughs at you. “Relax, I’m not going to bite you. Just let me know where to go and we’ll be set. Want a piece of gum?”

He holds out a pack of gum and you gladly take the piece, happy for the distraction. Most of the car ride is silent, except for you telling him occasionally where to go. But as he pulls up to your street, he slows to a crawl.

“You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around.me. Sure, I’m your employer, but I’m also a dad. I got the dad instinct, you know?” Your lips twitch at his attempt to be comforting. “Really, though. Don’t hold yourself so tight around me. I don’t mind doing this for you.”

You turn your eyes down. “Thank you. I’ll try, it’s just a little weird for me if you understand. But I do appreciate everything you’re doing for me.” As you unbuckle your seatbelt, you smile at Mr Park. “I hope you have a good night.”

As you go to your apartment building, Mr Park leans out of his car and calls after you. “You can call me Seonghwa, (Y/N). Mr Park makes me feel old.”

You laugh at his admission. “We’ll see, grandpa!” You can’t help but tease him before running into your home, leaving an amused Seonghwa outside.

-

These days you and Seonghwa have become a lot more friendly. He’s taken to driving you home despite your protests and during the car rides, some interesting conversations have happened. For example, you learnt that he built his company from the ground and yet is respected in many old money circles.

Okay, maybe you didn’t learn that from a conversation, and instead just searched on the internet. But what can you say? You’re curious about the man who happens to be your charge’s father and the man who happens to be very very handsome.

Maybe you have a bit of a crush on Seonghwa, but you couldn’t blame yourself. There was something about him. It is the aura he holds himself with, the kindness in his smile when he arrives home, and it helps that he is hot. Every so often, you can’t help but find yourself glancing at his pretty hands, or his well-toned arms, and you have to look away before heat spreads up to your ears.

You’re down bad, and it’s not getting any better. Every time you see Seonghwa, you want to jump him but it would be inappropriate. Not only is he your employer, but he’s also a decade older than you. There’s no way he would be interested in you, he probably sees you just as some kid.

With a sigh, you look down at your sketchbook. Today was supposed to be a fun day. Both Jihee and Seonghwa were off today, so you were spending the day with her as Seonghwa was still called into the office to put in some extra hours. But then the toddler fell sick and you were tasked with taking care of her.

At least it was a fairly easy job—Jihee slept most of the day and you were free to work on some of your more personal projects. Although your passion lies in children, you do enjoy drawing and even took a couple of classes in college. As you lay on the couch sketching, you get so lost in your mind you don’t even register the door opening and the footsteps coming towards you.

“Is that me?”

A shriek rips its way out of your throat as you do your best to whirl around and hold your drawings to your chest, but your legs get caught in the blanket and you instead fall half off the couch to the ground. Your chin props your head up on the ground but your legs are still tangled on the couch, your arms twisted into the blanket, the sketchbook an arm’s reach away.

“Hi, Mr– Seonghwa. How was work today?” you mumble half into the carpet, too embarrassed to look up. “Jihee’s taking a nap in her room.”

After a moment of silence, Seonghwa laughs, although it’s a little pained. “Uh. Do you need help up?”

You groan, pulling one of your arms out from your cocoon prison. “That would be great, thanks. Sorry.”

One of his cool hands gently takes your elbow as another comes to rest on your back. It’s at the moment you realise your shirt has ridden up. You can’t help but tense at the touch, hoping the embarrassment doesn’t show on your face. “Jihee’s taking a nap?”

You’re grateful he chose to brush over the incident. “Yeah– yeah. She’s not much better, but she’s not much worse. It’s just a simple cold, so she needs to sleep it off.” You chose to ignore the hand lingering on the small of your back, instead scooching back on your butt to distance yourself just a little bit. He’s your employer, there’s no way you can give in to your feelings.

But the couch seems to be against your plans, as when you try to pull the blankets off your feet you tumble into Seonghwa’s legs, knocking him down as you land on his firm chest. Your face is mere centimetres away from his and you freeze. “I–” you stammer out, Seonghwa equally as awkward.

“Sorry–” He tries to sit up, but it just results in the blankets twisting tighter and pulling you two even closer together. You swear if you could hold your breath, you could feel and hear his heart beating. “Ah, shit.”

You can’t help but laugh a little at his profanity, not something you’ve ever expected to hear from him. “Welcome back, Seonghwa.”

Seognhwa’s eyes widen, his blush deepens, and his head snaps away from you. Your brows furrow at the change in his features and you can’t help but wonder if it’s from the proximity, or if it’s the proximity to you specifically. “Ah. Let’s get out of this, shall we?” he coughs. He carefully detangles himself from the pile and holds out a hand to you.

You grasp it, noting his firm grip and letting him pull you up. “Thanks.”

“I’ll drive you back to your apartment first since Jihee’s asleep right now. It won’t take long.” While Seonghwa’s voice remains warm, his eyes move away from you.

Suddenly a guilty feeling pools in your stomach and you turn away as well, bending to pick up your sketchbook silently. “Of course.” The disappointment fills your head as you internally admonish yourself for even trying to entertain your fantasies of the older man.

But, to your surprise, a warm hand pats you on your shoulder. “You are good at art, (Y/N). You should continue to pursue and practice it, even as just a hobby.” His words make you look up into his eyes and you see a sparkle behind them. “You’re a talented person, and you should take advantage of it.”

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you smile at him again. “Once again, I appreciate the kindness you offer me.”

Seonghwa chuckles, spinning the car keys as you’ve quickly found out is his habit. “(Y/N), thank you for putting up with such an old man who can offer you nothing but kindness.”

You snort. “You’re not even that old, you geezer.” In retaliation, Seonghwa leans over and pokes you in the forehead.

“Oh, hush and let me take you home.”

-

It’s been almost six months since that day and your feelings have only intensified. But this time, you swear perhaps he may be returning your feelings too. Sometimes you catch him looking at you with a gentle smile, and his hand on your shoulder lingers a little longer than you think. But then he talks to an employee on the phone and you remember how accomplished he is. Even if he wasn’t much older than you, there’s no way you would fit into his lifestyle.

And, like any self-respecting person would do, you start to avoid him. What else are you going to do? Tell him? You’d be crazy to even entertain the thought. There’s no way he would even take you seriously.

These days you’ve just been going to work, and heading straight home. Seonghwa barely has time to catch you, and you’ve been plotting with Jihee to keep him away. She doesn’t quite understand why, but it’s fun to her so she’s happy to. You’re pretty sure half your wallet has gone to sticker sheets. But no matter how many stickers you’ve bought, it doesn’t help Seonghwa from figuring out something is amiss.

It’s your one day off and you’re spending it at home, lounging around and just watching movies while you sulk about your tangled feelings. Watching all these romantic movies doesn’t help at all and you groan. There’s no way you’re going to act like a lonely teenager, you declare to yourself. You’ll go to a club! Maybe meet someone closer to your age and you won’t feel like a wet sock anymore.

That’s it, you’ve convinced yourself. You’ll give yourself a night out. Suddenly inspired, you throw off the blankets covering you and start donning your nicest clothes. There’s a club you used to frequent in your college days, and you haven’t been back since you got the new job. It’d be nice to let loose again.

As the nighttime approaches, you’re almost all ready to go. You have your outfit and your makeup, and all you need is your shoes. Once you pick out your favourite pair of heels (comfy and not too high), you make your way down. You can feel the excitement pounding out of your chest and you can’t wait to get the night started.

As you enter the club, your body immediately relaxes as you take in the atmosphere. It’s been so long, you’re just excited to have fun. Get drunk, find a nice guy, and forget your problems. You down drink after drink, hyping yourself up, but as late night comes, nothing happens. With a sigh, you plunk down your last drink, feeling the buzz of the alcohol burn in your veins.

Nothing will happen tonight, and you just have to come to terms with it. You place down a couple of bills to pay off your tab, tip, and stumble out of the bar. You’re plastered. You can hardly walk in a straight line and you lean against the cool brick for a minute, letting the sensation sober you up a bit as you do your best to call up a taxi.

But before you can do so, a hand creeps onto your bare waist and your head snaps up to see a man, no younger than fifty, leering at you. “Uh, hi?” you slur out, your hands fiddling with your phone as you try and discreetly move to the phone app. You may be plastered, but you’re not a fool and you know what could happen in this situation.

Unfortunately, the old man seems to know what you’re trying and he grabs one of your wrists. “Now, pretty lady, take a break there. Why don’t you come hang out with me for a bit?” His words are greasy and slimy, and you almost gag at the idea of what he’s insinuating. At least Seonghwa isn’t triple your age…and he’s hot.

“Ah, no thanks,” you manage to push past him, pressing your most recent contact and holding the phone to your ear. “I’m a little uh…” You’re cut off when whoever you call starts speaking.

“(Y/N)? Why are you calling me? It’s nine.” Seonghwa’s voice crackles through the receiver. “Are you okay?”

“Ah, shit,” you groan, stumbling to your side and colliding with the wall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you. I’m just out and–”

Once again, the old man approaches you and pulls you back by the waist. “Come on, pretty. Get off the phone and pay attention to me.”

You shake your head and pull away again, moving even more down the street. “No, no, I’m not– just leave me alone. I want to go home,” you say, shaking your head, still holding the phone to your face. “Just…I wanna go home.”

“(Y/N), are you okay? Where are you?” You can hear the worry in Seonghwa’s voice rise and a faint jingling of keys. “I’m going to get you. Wooyoung’s here so he can watch Jihee. Talk to me, (Y/N).”

“I’m at the club Desire. Or near it. I don’t know.” Your head is muddled and no matter where you look, the street signs are blurring and the old man is still trying to get your attention. “I just want to go home,” you repeat, tears springing to your eyes. “I thought I told you to leave me alone!”

The old man growls at your tone, grabbing at you again. “Don’t be stupid, child. You can come home with me and I’ll teach you how to be proper for a man like you.” His breath reeks of alcohol and bad breath and you instinctively slap him across the face. Surprised, he jerks back, and you take a couple of shaky steps back again.

“Leave me be! I don’t want you near me.”

The old man’s eyes narrow at you and he takes one menacing step forward, his hand raising to strike you but you bring up your arms to block the slap, whimpering in pain when the hit lands and your phone clatters out of your hand. “You insolent child!” Your eyes squeeze shut and you hope Seonghwa gets there soon.

-

Seonghwa has never driven so fast in his life. He’s racing through the lights and he counts his lucky stars that they’re all green and that the police aren’t around right now. He can hear arguing coming from his phone and he’s calm enough knowing you’re at least still on the phone. But then he hears a noise and what he assumes to be your phone falling on the ground. “Fuck,” he mutters to himself. “Please, please be okay, (Y/N).”

Stepping on the gas, he roars around the corner to the club you mentioned, praying you’re still there. As he gets out, he’s looking around but can’t seem to find you. “(Y/N)?” he calls out. “Where are you?”

He races down the street to find you pinned against the wall, your hands attempting to push an old geezer away and he sees red. He marches right up, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from your shaking figure. “Fuck off,” he growls in his face, delighting in the fear that moves across his face. “Don’t let me catch you near this place again. Now fuck off!”

He practically throws the old man to his knees before turning and cupping your face. “Seonghwa,” you practically sob. He can still see the drunken haze in your eyes but it’s almost completely cleared up now and his brow furrows even more.

“Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulls you along and you do your best to keep up with him in your inebriated state. “I can’t believe you would do this! Have you no sense of security? Why didn’t you get anyone to come with you? Why would you call a taxi outside of the establishment?”

He still opens the car door for you and you slide immediately in, eyes staring wide at the pristine dashboard. He slides in and puts the car in the ignition before sitting back and groaning in frustration. “I hope you’re ready to talk as soon as we get inside,” he gripes. “I still am so shocked, (Y/N). You act so mature about Jihee, but what happened then? You could’ve been hurt…no, you were hurt!”

He continues his rant driving up to your street, ushering you into the elevator and into your place. “Do you know how my heart dropped when I saw you struggling? I don’t want to see you hurt. You need to take care of yourself.”

As he yells at you, his eyes rake over you to see if you’re injured any further, but something else stops him and the words die in his throat. You’re wearing a sheer shirt, your lacy bra underneath just showing off your chest. Your leather skirt has ridden up your thighs and your eyes fill with unshed tears. And something burns in his brain.

It’s been months since he hired you, and with each passing day, he finds himself more and more attracted to you. He berated himself every time these unwanted thoughts popped into his head. Sure, you’re sweet, good with kids, and are passionate about what you care about. But you’re also so young. You can do so much better than him, a single father with no prospects.

But seeing you like this, heat sparks in his gut and he leans in, his face mere inches away from yours. “When you wear things like that, it makes me want to rip them off you and do things even that creep couldn’t even imagine,” his low voice pierces through your thoughts and your mouth gapes open.

“I’m okay with that,” you whisper, hand reaching out to brush against his chest, but Seonghwa blinks as he realises what he just tried to do, and he jerks back. Your eyes flash with hurt and Seonghwa would like to hit himself for doing that to you but he can’t let you come onto him when you’re still drunk.

“I– I’m sorry,” you whisper, your hands reaching behind you to steady yourself on the wall. “I just felt so lonely. I wanted to be wanted.” 

Seonghwa’s breath stutters as he stares down into your wavering eyes. “I–” He wants you so bad. But he can’t bring himself to say it. Not when you’re drunk. “Go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He turns away and hears your disappointed sigh alongside your footsteps trudging to your bedroom. With a groan, he sits on the couch with his head in his hands. He wants to reassure you, but he can’t help but feel guilty about it. But he’s still straining in his pants and after locating your bathroom, he sits on the shower bench, leaning against the cool tile and breathing in and out. With a groan, he unzips his pants and pulls out his half-hard cock. The feeling of regret rises but he pushes it down to his gut as he spits in his hand and presses his thumb against the head of his dick.

As he wraps his hand around his cock and pumps it, he can’t help but close his eyes and imagine you. You with your mouth wrapped around his cock, with your hands gripping his thighs. You seated on his throbbing member, grinding your hips against him as you lean down to kiss him. He can feel his dick jump and he wonders what it’ll feel like to fill you with his cum.

He lets out a broken moan as his grip turns tighter. His image of you would scratch your nails down his back. He can almost hear your little whines and breathy moans as your hips work over him. You’d lean in and whisper into his mouth, “Seonghwa, fuck me hard,” and—

Seonghwa sighs as he looks down at his cum-coated hand and the mix of shame and relief swirling around his brain. Maybe he should just go to sleep on the couch and hope he doesn’t dream of you. As he washes his hand and goes to lie down, he can already feel a stress headache coming on. He hopes you’ll at least fare better in the morning.

-

When you awaken, you have a throbbing pain in your head and you groan and roll out of bed. You’ve taken your club shirt off as well as your skirt, but your bra and underpants are still on. You’re sure your makeup is smudged too and you have no clue how you got home but all you want is some coffee and oatmeal.

You trudge to the kitchen, rubbing your eyes from sleep. There’s a blanket fallen on the floor so you toss it onto the couch and head straight into the kitchen to start your coffee maker. As you lean against the counter and yawn.

“(Y/N), are you feeling better?”

A voice calls out from behind you and you shriek, whirling around to see a sleepy Seonghwa, blanket wrapped around him and his hair a mess. You shriek again, realising how little you’re clothed and duck behind the counter, your cheeks flaming and your heart beating faster than you ever thought it could.

“What are you doing here?” you force out, your voice tight.

“Do…do you not remember last night at all?” You do remember most of what happened. He took you home, but that’s about as far as you remember. And you’re not sure you want to know the rest of it. But you’re far too embarrassed to admit, so you put your acting skills to use. You’re not sure you can handle the shame of a real conversation.

“What?” you ask, forcing your voice to pitch higher as you slowly stand back up, hands covering your chest. “I didn’t– Oh my God, I’m so sorry if I came onto you. I was drunk, I must’ve been out of my mind. Please accept my deepest apologies.”

You notice Seonghwa’s eyes trail down to your chest and then snap back up to your face as if he’s forcing himself to and he chokes out a breath. Despite the headache, your mouth twitches. Maybe you’re still a little out of it. “No, nothing like that. I fetched you from the club because you called me to save you from a creep. Then I took you home and we slept.”

You sigh. “I’m glad. I do apologise for whatever my behaviour was. It was out of line and it won’t happen again. I understand if you want to let me go–”

“No!” Seonghwa’s outburst surprises you and your eyes widen. The lack of clothes you’re wearing has been long forgotten and you move around the counter to stand in front of him. Seonghwa has the decency to look a little embarrassed at the volume of his voice. “Sorry. I just…it’s like you’re a part of our family already. I care for you just as much as I care for Jihee.”

Ah. He thinks of you like a child. Your suspicions were right. You turn slightly to face away from him, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “I see. Well, I appreciate that. It’s nice to have a second family,” you chuckle, internally beating yourself up. How could you even entertain the thought of the two of you being together? “Let me change, and I’ll walk you out.”

As you return to your room, you finally let your heart sink as tears brim in your eyes. You hastily wipe them away as you rummage in the pile of clothes on your bed for something fairly appropriate to wear. First, you make a fool of yourself in front of Seonghwa, and then your crush is unfounded. You can’t seem to catch a break.

With a sigh, you pull on some shorts and a large shirt before heading back out. “Hey, (Y/N), could we talk first?” Seonghwa asks, still standing in between the kitchen and the living room as his eyes flit around nervously.

After some hesitation, you finally find your voice. “Sure? What’s up? You can sit on the couch if you want.”

Seonghwa takes a seat, hiking up his sweatpants and you move to the floor across the little coffee table. “Last night…you told me something.” Oh no. This is it. You bite your lower lip and look down, awaiting his next words. “Uh. So. You think you came onto me, right? Well. It was. Uh. It may have been me.”

You blink at him foolishly as your brain tries to wrap itself around your head. “You what?”

Seonghwa raises his hands and lowers his head ashamedly. “Let me explain, please. I saw you outside with that horrid excuse of a human and something in me snapped. I just wanted to protect you and I brought you home. But seeing you in that outfit? It just made me want you. And I told you. And you reciprocated. At least, you tried to.” He chuckles a little to himself, bringing up his hand to grip at his hair. “I told you we would talk in the morning. But one thing you said stuck with me. You wanted to be wanted. And all night I’ve been thinking about it. (Y/N), you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk. Something you said had truth to it. Please. For my own sanity, tell me how you feel about me. Please.”

His voice cracks at the last syllable and something in your heart hurts at the sound. “Seonghwa I…I do care for you. More than I should. You’ve shown me unbendable compassion and you’ve never taken my words or myself for granted…or treated me like a child. Against my better judgment, I’ve fallen for you.” You sigh, tightening your fists. “I’ve been hating myself for the better part of six months because of it. You were so much better than me. In job, in maturity. What was I supposed to do? I went to the club to forget you, but it appears that didn’t work.”

Seonghwa stands quickly, shuffling over to kneel in front of you. “How could you think such a thing? Me better than you? Don’t make me laugh. I may be older than you, and yes, I have a better-paying job. But in the end, how could you compare? You’re amazing with Jihee. You’ve managed to teach her in ways I could hardly hope to imagine. And just because I have a higher wage doesn’t mean your job is less important. I wasn’t lying when I said it felt like you were already part of the family.”

“You told me you thought of me like Jihee,” you argue, and Seonghwa laughs, leaning forward to take your hands.

“I said I care for you as much as I care for Jihee. Not in the same way, (Y/N).” Seonghwa smiles kindly. “I know if this does happen we’ll need to put a lot of care into this, but if you’ll have me, I’d like to be with you.”

You’re not sure whether this is a dream or not, staring up at Seonghwa with wide eyes. You’d be a fool if you said no, but the worries in your head won’t seem to cease. Taking a deep breath, you push them aside and smile up at him. “I’ll have you, Seonghwa.”

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth you can see Seonghwa’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and leans in, his nose almost touching yours. “May I kiss you?” he murmurs in his deep voice, and instead of gracing him with a reply, you meet him in a soft kiss.

His large hands cup your face as he deepens the kiss, and his thumbs brush against your cheekbones. “You’re so pretty,” he hums, pressing a multitude of pecks to your lips. “Last night I was so conflicted. Seeing you like that made me almost go insane.”

An idea sparks in your brain, and a smile widens on your face. Your fingers crawl up his shoulders to rest your arms on them. “How insane?” you ask, and Seonghwa’s eyes darken.

“I’ll show you,” he grows before capturing your lips with his once again. This time his arms shift to wrap around your waist and he pulls you closer until you’re practically pressed against his body. You squeak at the sudden movement but it’s swallowed by the kiss.

He pulls you onto his lap and you can feel the growing hardness in his slacks. You wriggle your hips a little, grinding down, and the moan that Seonghwa lets out is heaven to your ears. “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so pretty,” he repeats, burying his face in your neck and nipping at the sensitive skin.

You whine at the pain blooming into pleasure and your hands fist into his hair. Your precious sounds get to Seonghwa and he groans, moving your legs to wrap around his waist and he hoists you up and brings you over to the couch. “Your noises are so pretty, baby,” Seonghwa groans into your mouth. “Can’t wait to hear them when you’re wrapped around my cock.”

“Please–” is all you can muster out and your whines only serve to make Seonghwa’s cock harder in his pants.

With a groan, he pats your ass, motioning for you to move up. As soon as your hips lift, he grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down to your knees, leaving your underwear and shirt on. In the same motion, he shoves his slacks and boxers down just far enough to let his cock spring free.

“Seonghwa–”  you whine and something in Seonghwa’s stomach burns at the idea of you crying on his throbbing dick. He sits back, guiding you to sit right above his cock as he moves it to rub against your soaked underwear. Every time the angry-red tip of it brushes against your clit you let out breathy moans and it only serves to make Seonghwa impossibly harder.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Seonghwa breathes, his free hand coming up to brush against your face. A smile blooms on your face as you bend to kiss him again.

“Then don’t.”

Something flips in Seonghwa’s brain and he lifts you, pushes your underwear to the side, and lets his cock press into you slowly. The both of you throw your head back and groan loudly at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but that doesn’t matter as the sting of the stretch is enough to make you drool. You can hardly speak as you whine nonsense into his ear and let your head drop to the crook of his neck.

“You fit around me so well,” Seonghwa praises, his head spinning at the feeling of finally fucking you the way he dreamed of. It was only yesterday he was fucking into his hand at the thought of you and here he is, only a few hours later, his painfully hard member inside of you. “Look at you, a mess for me. Bet you’ve never been with an older man before. Do I make you feel good, baby?”

You clench at his words. “Fuck, yes, the best I’ve had,” you babble, squirming at the already overwhelming feeling. “You’re so good to me.”

Seonghwa laughs delightedly at how gone you seem to be not five minutes in. “So precious, especially for me, (Y/N). Sitting on my dick so prettily.” He gives a little experimental thrust upwards and you gasp. The noises you make are so addictive, he can’t help but do it again. And again.

You’re panting, moaning as he fills you up so deliciously and your hands grip at his now-wrinkled dress shirt. His cool hands slide up your baggy shirt to shove up your bra and cup your boobs. The weight of them sitting in his hands makes him groan as he leans in to mouth at them through your shirt.

“Been dreaming about these tits since last night. Jerked off in the bathroom after seeing you, you know?” Your eyes widen at the admission and Seonghwa smirks at how embarrassed you look. “Wanted you so bad and you thought I wouldn’t like you in that way? You’re so cute, (Y/N).” He punctuates each word with one thrust after another.

The feeling of his dick pumping into you as well as Seonghwa’s teeth scraping against the soft flesh of your tits makes you so overwhelmed. It’s almost embarrassing how close you are already, and Seonghwa knows it, chucking up at you from between your chest. “Aw, baby, you’re so far gone. Am I that good?”

You cry out and sink your teeth into the junction of his shoulder and neck. You’re trying so hard to keep your noises down but Seonghwa isn’t having any of that. His hand finds its way to your hair, gently tugging on it until your head falls back, exposing the column of your neck.

As his warm breath ghosts over it, you stiffen, and when he moves up from your chest to lick a stripe up it and nip at your earlobe, you come with a groan. Your hips are shaking from the intensity of it but his thrusts don’t stop and soon you’re whining from the overstimulation.

And he still hasn’t come.

“Fuck, Seonghwa, it’s so much,” you groan, mouth hanging open. Seonghwa greedily swoops in to capture your lips once more, licking into your mouth as his thrusts become more and more erratic.

His dick twitches and he groans. “Where do you want me? I’m clean,” Seonghwa mumbles into your mouth.

You shift your hips a little. “I’m clean too and on the pill, so it’s on you. I don’t care, I just want you, Hwa.”

Your words spark something in Seonghwa and he thrusts upwards, once, and his cum starts filling you. It’s searingly hot, settling deep in your gut and you throw your head back and moan so goddamn loud. His throbbing cock is twitching like crazy and it’s still pumping cum into you. Seonghwa’s hand slides down your body to tweak at your nipples, thumb over your flesh, and finally come to rub little circles into your clit.

You gasp and it feels like you’re touching heaven from the extra stimulation. “Gonna fill you up so well,” Seonghwa groans. “Do you think Jihee would like a sibling?” 

Your thoughts all blur together at his sentence and you come again with a groan. Your cunt squeezes around him so deliciously and a sob breaks its way out of your throat, one that Seonghwa eagerly swallows as he kisses you again.

His thrusts start to slow down and you slowly pull off his now-softening dick and settle back down on his lap. His hands push his leaking cum back into your pulsating pussy and you sigh at the feeling.

“Well, that was quite the escalation,” Seonghwa laughs quietly as he pulls both your and his pants back up and wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace. His hand pats your butt and you squirm and slap his chest softly.

“You’re lucky I’m on the pill.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly and Seonghwa hums, capturing your lips in his yet again. He can’t get enough of your plush lips and you’re not complaining at all.

“I’m lucky to have you, period,” he sighs happily. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You smile and sit up, ignoring the whines that come out of Seonghwa’s mouth at the lack of contact. “Well, I couldn’t let you be a lonely old man,” you tease and Seonghwa smacks your ass again.

“Can old man do what I just did?” You’re suddenly lying on your back with Seonghwa hovering over you, a crooked smile growing on his face. “Or do you need another demonstration?”

You smile and throw your arms around his shoulders and pull him closer. “I don’t know, sir, maybe you should show me once more.”

With a nip to your lips, Seonghwa leans in and your eyes crinkle at the promise of what’s to come.

[imaxdead]

my cats gayer than me

— ★ k. haerin x female reader

synopsis - your cat snow’s been acting weird—coming home late, smelling like someone else. when she doesn’t return one night, you go looking… and find her with another cat. turns out, that cat belongs to your cold, quiet neighbor kang haerin

genre - idk actually they’re so awkward w eo, fluffy

warning - strong language, nothing else

a/n - first time posting a fic pls gays don’t judge me 💔🥀

snow had been acting suspicious

and not in the “knocked over your succulent again” kind of way

no, your perfect, pampered, indoor princess had started going out

as in: climbing out your window like a rebellious teenager and coming back hours later with grass in her fur and a look in her eyes that said i’ve seen things

she used to be the clingiest little snowball — hence the name.

now she barely meowed at you when she returned, and worst of all?

she smelled like someone else

like betrayal

lol jk, but like... chicken-flavored betrayal yum

so naturally, being the concerned parent that you were, you called the only person who would understand the gravity of the situation: your best friend, hanni

you were pacing around your room like a full-blown single mother mid-breakdown, phone to your ear, one slipper on, the other missing (just like your cat)

“she’s a child,” you grumbled into your phone

“you said she’s two,” hanni deadpanned from the other end

“she’s emotionally a child.”

“she’s emotionally out getting laid while you’re emotionally constipated,” hanni yawned. “face it, your cat’s just in heat.”

“no, i’m in heat,” you shot back, “she’s missing.”

“or getting laid somewhere, maybe.”

“she came home glowing yesterday. glowing like a woman in love.”

“that’s just catnip, you dumb bitch.”

you sighed, dragging a hand over your face. “i swear if she doesn’t come home tonight i’m calling the cops.”

“on who, the streets?”

“on whoever put that twinkle in her eye.”

★. ★. ★. ★. ★.

cut to: 12:03am

snow still not home.

cut to: 12:27am

you outside in sweats and socks with one slipper because the other one’s been missing since june, flashlight app open, whisper-screaming “snowwwwwwwww” like a deranged disney princess

you had checked the entire apartment complex, the bushes, even the back alley where the mean ginger cat with the eye scar hangs out

no snow. no white fluffy traitor

“i’m gonna die,” you muttered. “i’m gonna die and they’ll find me half-eaten by alley raccoons.”

“meow.”

you froze.

“meow...? SNOW!?”

“meow.”

you turned.

and then you saw her.

snow.

perched on the low garden wall, tail swishing like a smug little bitch. and right beside her — another cat. tall, black, mysterious.

looking like the kind of feline that listens to lana del rey and journals about trauma

they were nuzzling.

they were nuzzling.

your jaw dropped. “what—”

“she’s been here for an hour,” a soft voice said from your leftyou yelped, flinching so hard your flashlight dropped.

and standing there, hoodie too big, slippers matching (both slippers) was none other than kang haerin

your neighbor.

your mysterious, quiet, cold neighbor

the one you secretly thought was cute

the one you also thought would murder you for knocking too loud

“…you scared the shit outta me,” you blurted, clutching your heart

haerin blinked slowly. “you scared me. you were stomping like you were summoning a demon.”

“that’s just how i walk,” you mumbled.

she looked down at your feet. “…with one slipper?”

“can we not talk about this.”

silence.

you cleared your throat. “uh. that’s… my cat. the white one.”

“i figured.” she looked back at the two cats who were now straight up cuddling.

“and the black one is…?”

“moon. my cat.”

“…moon,” you repeated.

“yeah.”

“…like the moon?”

“…yes.”

you nodded slowly, brain short-circuiting. “so. they’re… close?”

“they’re dating,” haerin said flatly.

“they’re—” you choked.

“they’re dating??”

“yeah. snow comes by every other night. i feed them and they just hang out.”

“hang out?? she told me she was playing with leaves!!”

“…you talk to her?”

“shut up.”

you dropped to sit on the curb, utterly defeated. “i can’t believe this. my cat’s gay. and got a girlfriend before i did.”

“uh, same,” haerin said.

you looked up. “…what?”

“i mean,” she shrugged, “moon’s my cat. i’m single. she’s not.”

your brain stalled. oh, she’s single!

“so we’re both single. and our cats are dating.”

“yeah.”

“they’re like… lesbians in love.”

“guess so.”

“and we’re… co—nevermind..”

“pardon?” she asked gently.

“n-nothing..”

a silence fell.

snow let out a long, affectionate meow, brushing up against moon

you and haerin both turned to look. “…i thought she was straight,” you whispered. “i mean, hanni said so. that snow’s on heat. getting laid somewhere..”

“i thought moon was shy,” haerin whispered back.

you stared at each other.

then looked away, awkward.

“…anyway,” you stood up, brushing off your butt. “thanks for… y’know. watching over her. and not… stealing her. or sacrificing her to a witch cult.”

haerin actually laughed at that.

laughed. soft and real.

“you’re not as crazy as i expected,” she said.

you blinked. “wait. you thought i was crazy?”

“you yelled at the vending machine last week.”

“wait... YOU SAW THAT!?”

“yeah, while i was getting back home.”

OMG, SHE KNOWS YOU. SHE NOTICED YOU. YOU HAVE A CHANCE—nevermind. let’s calm down now.

you cleared your throat. “it ate my money. that was a valid crash out.”

another small laugh.

you scratched your neck, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. “uh… wanna trade numbers? y’know, in case the cats get married and we have to plan the wedding?”

haerin raised a brow, but handed you her phone. “sure.”

you typed in your number, trying to act normal and not like your heartbeat was about to fly out your ears. “cool. uh. yeah.”

“cool,” she nodded.

you reached for snow, who looked up at you like you were interrupting her first date.

“we’re going home, missy.”

“we are too” haerin picked up moon.

“uhm.. see you around?”

“yeah,” she said, and then, quietly, “hopefully sooner.”

you walked away, snow tucked under your arm, heart racing like you just got hit by cupid’s nerf gun

once inside, you tossed your slipper across the room and collapsed on your bed, brain screaming

you were into her.

and she wasn’t cold.

she was just… shy and soft-spoken and sweet and kind and pretty and cute and adorable and beautiful and so more ugh

and maybe possibly gay.

and your cat’s girlfriend’s mum.

and your number was in her phone.

and suddenly, your phone buzzed.

[unknown number]: hi sorry i forgot to say g’night

[unknown number]: it’s haerin btw

you stared at the messages, cheeks on fire

you quickly saved her name as moon’s mum before replying to her back.

snow hopped onto your bed, smug as ever.

“don’t even, you little traitor,” you muttered.

she meowed once, victorious

[pensthoughts]

Hi…HIIIII!!!! So…call me crazy if you don’t see the vision, okay, Spider-Woman! Reader x Big Spider-Woman fan! Van…. Like, I see it, don’t you? Like it’s perfect. Like you are my favourite writer on Tumblr so…yeah

sticky situation | v.p

a/n: i always see spiderman au's for other fandoms so i was really excited to write this when i got it! also i'm not a big superhero fan so please don't judge if i get things wrong lol. hope you enjoy!! pairing: superfan!van x spiderwoman!reader summary: after getting into a big fight in the city, you turn to your best friend to help you out. too bad your best friend happens to be your biggest fan. word count: 3.2k

the city is loud tonight. not the kind of loud that mkes you feel alive—but the kind that tells you something's wrong. the kind that seeps into your bones and whispers: this is gonna hurt.

you don't even remember how it started. you were patrolling over lower manhattan, crouched on the edge of a rooftop and watching the streets below with tired eyes. it was supposed to be a quiet night. you were even thinking of cutting it short, maybe texting van to meet you at that twenty-four house diner she loves—the one with the cinnamon milshakes and sticky booths. she always pretends she hates the place, but you've caught her smiling into her fries too many times for that to be true.

but then the explosion happened. not big enough to take out a whole block, but enough to blow out windows, throw sparks into the night, and make your heart lurch. by the time you swung down, the scene was chaos—two masked guys hauling duffel bags into a black van, one already holding a crowbar like he was waiting for a fight.

and of course, you had to be a smartass. "hey," you called, landing in front of them. "you left your manners at home."

needless to say, they didn't think it was funny.

the fight was messy. one of them was stronger than he looked, swinging wild but heavy. the other ahd a shock baton—probably stolen. you dodged the first few hits easily, landing a couple of clean web-assisted kicks, but you were tired, running on half a protein bar and whatever adrenaline you had left. the baton guy got lucky. got you in the side while you were mid-flip. you felt it before you saw it. a burst of heat that made your whole right side throb.

you kept going. you always do. you took them both down eventually, left them webbed to a streetlamp with a little note: nice try. but by the time you were scaling a building to get away, your suit was already sticking to your skin from the blood.

you tried not to panic. you've been injured before. you have plans for this. safehouses. contacts. places to hide.

but not this close. not fast enough.

so your brain did what it always done when you're scared. it went to van.

you've been best friends with van since sophomore year of high school. she was the loud redhead in the back of your chemistry class who cracked jokes under her breath and made paper footballs out of pop quizzes. you were new—nervous, quiet, still trying to figure out if you could balance a secret double life and algebra II. van figured you out faster than you figured out the cafeteria schedule. not the spider-woman part, of course. just the important stuff. that you liked the weird flavored gatorades. that you doodled in the margins of your notebooks when you were thinking. that your laugh came out in stutters when you were really caught off guard.

you weren't supposed to get close to anyone, not really. but she made it hard not to. van has this gravitational pull—bold and ridiculous and so painfully genuine it hurts. she got you to open up in pieces, to trust in increments. you had sleepovers in your house, movie marathons at hers, birthday dinners that always ended in karaoke. she knew when to tease and when to let you sit in silence. when you got detention for the first time (not your fault), she faked being sick just so you wouldn't have to serve it alone.

and now, you're still in new york—freshmen. van's studying film at nye, already making weird little shorts with her classmates and pretending she's not going to be famous one day. you're juggling classes, homework, and a part-time superhero gig that would kill your gpa if your professors found out.

somehow, in the mess of it, you've stayed close. late-night bagels. shared playlists. phone calls when you're in the suit and trying not to sound out of breath. she doesn't know the truth, but she still keeps you sane.

you knew that there was one problem about this plan—van loves spider-woman in ways that shouldn't even be allowed.

she's got posters, figures, even a hand-painte mug with your symbol on it. you once caught her watching a shaky phone recording of you flipping off a rooftop and landing with perfect form. she didn't even look embarrassed.

and now here you are, bleeding through your side, scaling her fire escape.

you tell yourself it's fine. she won't know it's you. you'll keep the mask on. you'll be just another bleeding superhero in need of some neosporin.

inside, her room is glowing with that golden warmth you've always loved. strings of lights loop across her ceiling, draped haphazardly over posters and shelves. her bed is a mess—blankets half on the floor, pillows thrown to the side like she was in the middle of remaking it and got distracted.

and she's dancing.

you blink, momentarily forgetting the blood pooling in your suit.

she's got music blaring through her speakers, something unapologetically pop and aggressively catchy. she's singing into a hairbrush, spinning in circles, nearly tripping over her own socks. her pajama shirt is oversides and slightly ripped at the collar, her shorts hanging low on her hips. she's grinning like she doesn't have a care in the world.

you lean against the window frame, watching her for a second.

you should knock.

but it's hard to tear your eyes away. there's something about her like this—unguarded, ridiculous, beautiful. you've fought monsters, out swung bullets, stared death in the face without blinking. but standing here, watching van palmer lip-sync to a song about heartbreak with one sock on and one off?

that's what makes your pulse trip.

you knock.

she doesn't hear it. you knock again, harder this time.

her head snaps up.

she sees you.

freezes.

and then she vanishes below the windowsill like she's just seen a ghost.

you smile weakly, pressing your forehead to the glass. "hey," you say, voice low, shaking. "it's okay. it's just—i need help."

there's a beat.

then she reappears. slower this time. careful. her eyes rake over you—your mask, your trembling hand, the dark red stain seeping from your ribs.

she lifts the window.

"get in," she says, breathless.

you climb through with more effort than you want to admit. your balance is off, your legs wobbly. as soon as you land inside, you stumble, and she's there—arms around you, solid and warm.

"whoa," she mutters, steadying you. "okay. you're real."

you try for a joke but only manage a hiss of pain.

"okay," she says, dragging you gently. "sit. i'll get the first aid kit. don't touch anything. or die."

you let yourself collapse onto her floor against her bed, your hand pressed tight against your wound. you watch her leave the room, backing out like she doesn't want to blink and miss it. her expression is a mix of awe and panic. she's always been good in emergencies, though.

you close your eyes for just a second.

you're not sure if this was the smartest decision, but you're here now, and van palmer is about to see a side of you she's only dreamed of.

she's back in under a minute, a little red box under her arm and her other hand holding a towel she probably didn't think through—white, of course. she takes one look at the blood and immediately swaps it out for a dark t-shirt from her laundry pile.

her eyebrows are knitted in concentration like she's still processing the fact that this is really happening. like you're really here, bleeding all over her hardwood floor.

"okay," she announces as she kneels in front of you, "this is the part where you don't judge my lack of any and all medical experience."

you lean back slightly to give her space, the fabric of your suit pulled enough to reveal the deep, ugly gash along your side. it's still weeping, though not as badly as before.

"god," van murmurs, wincing. "what even did this?"

"guy with a crowbar thing," you mutter, teeth grit. "he didn't like my jokes."

van lets out a breath. "typical new-yorker."

she sets the kit beside her and cracks it open, pulling out alcohol, gauze, tape, and bandages in a practiced sort of messiness. she's moving fast but not carelessly. her fingers, warm and steady, prod gently around the wound as she leans in close. you try not to flinch. she smells like oranges and something woodsy—familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.

when the alcohol touches your skin, you hiss involuntarily.

"shit—sorry!" van's hand flies back like she's been burned. "i knew that was gonna suck, i just didn't know how much."

you shake your head. "it's fine. i've had worse."

van gives you a quick glance. "that's kind of the scariest thing you've said all night."

she presses the gauze down carefully, holding it there. you feel her exhale, warm against your shoulder. then she tapes it into place with slow, focused movements. her touch is light but precise.

"you're good at this," you mutter.

she snorts. "what, being a hot florence nightingale?"

your lips curve, despite the pain. "something like that."

she tapes a clean bandage over the gauze and begins wrapping the stretch of gauze around your waist, threading it under your arms and around your back, leaning in close with every pass. her fingers graze your ribs once and you flinch—not from the pain this time.

she notices.

you watch her work, and she tries not to meet your eyes, though you catch the smile tugging at her lips.

"i'm just saying," she says, voice light. "i imagined meeting spider-woman a lot of ways, but none of them involved gauze and my kitchen scissors."

you chuckle. "and how did you imagine it?"

she shrugs, looping the bandage again. "you know. saving me from an explosion. swinging in through the window. a dramatic pose."

you arch a brow. "i did come through the window."

"true," she says, mock-serious. "i feel honored."

van's eyes lift to yours for a split second too long. then she looks away, focusing too intently on tearing the end of the bandage.

it's quiet for a beat, just the sound of the city outside, muffled by distance. you glance down at her hands—freckled, careful, still slightly shaking,

she speaks again, but this time her voice is lower, like she's trying to puzzle something out.

"you... you sound familiar," she says.

your stomach tightens.

she shakes her head, mostly to herself. "sorry, i don't mean that in a weird way. it's just—your voice. i swear it's on the tip of my tongue."

you force a shrug, not trusting your voice.

but then it slips out, too naturally—your instinct when she presses the gauze too hard.

"dude, gentle. i'm injured, not invincible."

van stills. completely.

you feel her gaze flick back up to your face. her brows draw in, not confused—curious.

you've said that line to her a thousand times before, back when you two were roughhousing in high school, back when she'd throw popcorn at your face during horror movies or shove you off the couch when you said something smartass-y.

van squints slightly, eyes narrowing in that familiar way when she's focusing hard on something.

"...what did you just say?"

you try to cover, to laugh it off. "uh. nothing?

"no. you said—" she sits back on her heels, studing your face like it's a riddle. "that line. you've said that before."

"i mean, i'm sure spider-woman's said a lot of things."

van doesn't laugh. she just stares, mouth parted, like she's standing on the edge of a realization she's not ready for.

you feel the tension shift between you, coiling tight. the bandage is finished, but she doesn't move away.

"you're weirdly good at pretending you're not in pain," she says softly.

you meet her eyes. "i've had practice."

"you're not like... famous-famous, right?" she asks, almost playfully. "like, under the mask? you're not secretly, like, florence pugh or something?"

you snort. "do i sound british?"

van grins, and then—it softens. almost fades.

"i don't know," she murmurs. "you just... feel familiar."

your heart thuds unevenly. you open your mouth to say something—anything—but her phone buzzes on the desk. she blinks, dragging herself away from whatever rabbit hole her brain was going down.

she walks over, still frowning slightly, and picks it up.

her thumb hovers over your name in her contacts—your civilian name.

she hesitates.

then taps out a message:

bro you'll seriously NEVER guess who's in my room. plz come over later so i can tell you🙏

the buzz that follows is barely audible, but van hears it. her head snaps toward you like a bloodhound catching a scent. she sees the shape of your phone in your boot that you took off upon entering her room.

the screen lights up—her message, your name, right there.

slowly, she walks back over.

your phone still glowing her her hand.

her eyes are wide now, but not panicked.

she looks at you. and all she says is, "...no way."

she says it like a prayer. like a punchline. like a memory unraveling in real time.

you freeze—completely, utterly still.

van is holding your phone like it's glass, like it might vanish if she grips it too hard. her eyes flick from your face to the cracked screen and back, and you see the moment it clicks. her mouth parts slightly.

you could lie. play it off. say someone else borrowed your phone. say you're just a really convincing voice match. say anything.

but you don't. because you know her. and because, in some stubborn part of you, you want her to know.

she exhales a quiet laugh. "dude."

you sigh, tugging your mask off fully now. "yeah. it's me."

van sinks down to the floor across from you like her knees give out. she doesn't look scared. or angry. she just looks...amazed. like she's staring at a skyline for the first time.

"i can't believe—" she laughs again, shakily this time. "oh my god, you've been her this whole time? my best friend is spider-woman?"

"sorry," you say, giving her a sheepish smile. "i didn't really know how to bring it up. like hey, pass the popcorn, also i fight crime on the weekends."

she shakes her head slowly, in awe. "no, like, what? you've been to my house. you've held my spider-woman bobblehead. you made fun of me for watching that fan edit seventeen times."

"i didn't make fun of you," you argue. "i said it was impressively edited."

van squints. "you called it 'fanfic with a budget.'"

"okay," you admit, grinning. "that does sound like me."

she stares at you for a moment, her smile faltering into something softer. she's still holding the medkit between you, like a strange sort of offering.

"so all those times you ditched plans," she says. "it wasn't because you were flaking. it was because you were saving people."

you nod.

"and tonight—you came here. out of everywhere in the city, you came here. to me"

you look down at your bandaged side, then back up at her.

"i trust you," you say. "even when you don't realize you're flirting with me."

that makes her snort—sharp and incredulous—but she doesn't deny it. instead, she reaches over, gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"you know what's crazy?" she says, and her voice is quieter now, like she's confessing something she didn't plan to. "you show up at my window, bleeding and brave and real, and i think... of course it's you. it had to be you."

your breath catches in your throat.

van leans back slightly, giving you space again—but not too much.

"i liked spider-woman because she was fearless and funny and always five steps ahead. but i think i liked her because... she reminded me of you."

you bite your lip, warmth pooling in your chest. "you said i reminded you over a superhero once. i thought you were just being nice."

"i wasn't," she says. "i just didn't know how right i was."

the silence between you stretches, but it's not heavy anymore.

van eyes you for a long moment, then adds with a grin, "i'm keeping the bobblehead though. i don't care how famous you get."

you laugh, wincing slightly, and she catches your arm instinctively, steadying you.

you look at her—really look—and you know it's not just the suit or the powers or the danger that brought you here. it's her. it's always been her.

"you saved me," you say softly,

van smiles, hand still resting on your arm. "you started it."

she helps you to your feet with a quiet grunt, slipping an arm around your waist for support.

"so," she says as you lean into her, "what's the plan now, hero?"

you glance toward the window. the skyline glows like embers. sirens wail somewhere far off, fading into the hum of the city.

and you look back at van.

"honestly?" you say. "i think i need to sleep for a week. but maybe first...i owe you a real explanation."

she grins, walking toward her bed like it's no big deal. like she's not half-carrying a literal vigilante.

"you can start with why you always bailed on movie night."

"and end with why your first stop after almost dying was me," she adds, teasing.

you smirk. "maybe i just wanted to see your dance moves again."

van laughs, red creeping into her cheeks as she helps you settle against the pillows. "don't push it, spider-girl."

as she settles beside you, legs crossed, fingers fidgeting with the corner of the medkit box, you feel the air between you settle into something warmer than it's ever been. you saved a city. you survived a fight.

but this? this is the part you were fighting for.

she settles beside you, cross-legged and still buzzing with adrenaline, even if she’s trying to play it cool. her shoulder brushes yours, warm and steady. and for a second, everything feels almost normal. like it’s always been this way—just you, her, and the glow of the city outside her window.

she starts rifling through the medkit again, mumbling something about finding the good band-aids, and you catch yourself watching the way her brow furrows in concentration, the way her fingers move like she’s done this before, like she knowshow to take care of people, how to take care of you.

it sneaks up on you, the realization.

you’ve spent years with van palmer. late nights, shared secrets, laughter that made your ribs ache. you’ve trusted her with everything except this one, impossible truth. and now that she knows, now that she’s looking at you like you’re still you—just maybe a little more sparkly around the edges—

you think you might like her.

not just as your best friend. not just as the girl with a room full of superhero merch and a laugh you could find in a crowd. but like… like like.

and the worst part?

you think she might like you too.

but for now, you lean back against her shoulder, let your eyes flutter shut, and let yourself rest. because spider-woman can save the city tomorrow.

tonight, you’re just a girl with a secret and a little bit of a crush.

and van palmer is still your favorite person in the world.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey

[wzrd-wheezes]

I have an idea for bartender! Remus, if it’s something you’d be comfortable writing? (I know people have different boundaries on this kind of topic so if not totally ignore this)

But what about Reader goes to the bar to meet up with Remus (like an hour or so before he gets off work, they plan to hang out after but she figured might as well go have some fun, either with a friend or alone) and some random guy—could even be Snape/Mulciber/someone Remus knew from school??— is being creepy at the bar, then slips/tries to slip something into her drink when she’s not looking, and Remus catches him? Get some protective ‘Guard dog Wolf’ boyfriend and H/C action going on??

Up to you how far creepy guy gets in his endeavours lol whatever you’re comfortable with :))

In Safe Hands - Remus Lupin x Reader

AN - thank you for this request! This was something a bit different for me. i've put some links at the end with some info about spiking etc because it is a very real and very scary thing so pls be vigilant, keep an eye on your drinks, keep an eye on your mates and don't be afraid to tell creepy men to fuck off!

Warnings: mentions of drugs/ attempted spiking (nothing serious happens but worth mentioning incase it's a trigger for anyone) 2k words

“You’re still meeting me after my shift, yeah?” Remus asked, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his girlfriend’s head as he reached for his jacket draped over the sofa, “It’s alright if you’re too tired and don’t fancy it. I’ll be finishing late.” 

Y/N looked up at him, her legs curled beneath her on the sofa. “Don’t be daft,” she said with a soft smile, “I’m meeting Lily anyway and we said we’d pop in for a drink before she meets James. I think she said he was going out somewhere with Sirius.”  

“Oh God.” Remus widened his eyes jokingly, “I hope she doesn’t have to call me to pick the two of them up again.” 

“Hah! I hope not,” she agreed, “But yeah. I’ll be there for sure. I like seeing you at work.” 

Remus paused mid pocket pat, checking for the late shift essentials -lighter, cigarettes, keys- then raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh, yeah? What’s so fun about watching me pouring pints and dodging drunk blokes?” 

She shrugged with a grin, “No particular reason. I just like seeing you in your element. All nice and charming and pretending that you’re not judging everyone.” 

“I don’t pretend that hard.” 

“Exactly.” 

Remus leaned down, his fingers brushing against her jaw before kissing her softly again, “You’re an idiot,” he said fondly, “Alright, I’m off. See you later, lovey.” 

The bar was already packed when Y/N and Lily walked in. It was familiar and gloomy with it’s dim lighting, scuffed wood and the hum of conversations. The large bar stretched across the middle of the room, people queuing up all around it. 

“There - look!” Lily grabbed Y/N’s hand as she spotted two empty barstools and dragged her forwards. 

“Perfect spot, eh?” Lily teased, “Front row seats to watch your boyfriend at work.” 

“Shut up,” Y/N swatted at her friend playfully. She settled onto her stool and glanced down the length of the bar. 

Remus was stood at the far end, deep in conversation with one of his regulars. One hand rested on the bar top, the other gesturing mid-story. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows and he had his dish cloth slung over his shoulder. The familiar furrow between his brows was a tell-tale sign that he was pretending not to enjoy himself. 

Lily slid a menu across the bar towards her, though it was more ritual than necessity, “Are we pretending to deliberate for thirty seconds before ordering the exact same thing we always do?” 

“Of course,” Y/N replied, “If it’s not broken don’t fix it.” 

It didn’t take long for Remus to clock them. He finished pouring a beer and handed it off with a nod before making his way over to them. 

“Well, well,” he said, leaning an elbow on the bar in front of them, “What did I do to earn the pleasure of both your company tonight?” 

"Don’t flatter yourself,” Lily said dryly, though the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile, “I can’t stay long. Told James I’d meet him just after midnight.” 

“Probably a good idea. Best not to leave him unattended with Sirius for too long. Remember last time when they nearly got banned from the pub quiz because of-”  

“Please don’t remind me.” Lily cut him off, hiding her face in her hands. 

Remus laughed and grabbed two glasses from under the bar, setting them down with a soft clink, “Same as usual?” 

“You know us,” Y/N replied. 

“Oh, I know. Creatures of habit, the pair of you,” he gestured towards Y/N. “Especially you – always sit on the right, always eye the mojito like you’re considering ordering something different and then order the same thing anyway.” 

He held his hands up defensively and chuckled. Y/N watched him as he turned to make their drinks. He made it look effortless, and she loved catching his little quirks as he worked. The way he would tap each bottle twice before pouring, how he would flick his fingers when he shook the cocktail shaker. When he eventually slid their drinks towards them, his hand brushed hers and she felt that familiar warmth creep up her spine. 

The two girls fell into easy conversation as Remus returned to his rounds behind the bar. They sipped their drinks, watching the bar buzz around them. Remus was a blur of motion, moving from one end of the bar to the other. Every time he passed by them, he didn’t fail to glance their way, flashing them a crooked smile that lingered on Y/N for a second longer. 

Lily stretched, letting out a dramatic sigh as she glanced at the time, “Alright, guess I’d better be off,” she pouted as she drained the rest of her drink, “You’ll be okay, yeah?” 

Y/N nodded, setting her own glass down, “Yeah, ‘course. Remus should be done soon anyway.” 

Lily pulled her friend into a warm hug, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, “Okay, then. I’ll call you tomorrow. Wish me luck!” 

Y/N watched her friend disappear through the door and she turned back to her drink, tracing her finger along the condensation that had formed on the glass. Remus was busy down the other end of the bar, chatting with a pair of customers. 

“Mind if I sit here?” A voice spoke out behind her. 

Snapped back into reality, she turned around and met the eyes of the man behind her, “Oh, er, yeah sure.”  

She assumed that he was just looking for an empty seat, probably waiting for someone himself. She smiled at him as he sat down and then turned back to face the bar. 

“Your friend ditch you or something?” 

“Huh?” she glanced at him sideways, “No, she had to meet someone.” 

“My lucky night then, eh?” he grinned at her. He was a few years older than she was, dressed like he thought he was cooler than he was in an expensive looking jacket and shoes, “Wanted to come over and speak to you earlier but I didn’t want to intrude.” 

“I’m with someone,” she nodded towards the bar. 

He tilted his head looking unconvinced, “Doesn’t look like it.” 

Y/N gave him a tight smile and looked away, hoping that would be enough but he didn’t relent. The man leaned in closer, casually, like she hadn’t just brushed him off. 

“Aw, come on now,” he lowered his voice, “No need to be shy. I just thought you looked like you could use some company. Doesn’t seem right, leaving a lady sat all by herself.” 

“I said I’m good.”  

“Girls like you shouldn’t drink alone. Gives people the wrong idea.” 

Y/N turned to face him fully now, “Let me give you the right idea then. Fuck off.” 

The man laughed, like they were playing a game, “No need to be rude, I’m only being friendly.” 

She rolled her eyes and turned back to the bar. For a moment, she considered moving but the bar was packed, and she wanted to be near Remus. Besides, why should she have to move just because some wanted to try it on her? She looked back to Remus, willing his shift to end.  

The man was still talking – meaningless chatter about how the bar was busy and isn’t every bar crowded and loud nowadays? Unfortunately for him, Y/N had long since stopped listening, hoping that if she ignored him long enough he would eventually get the hint and leave. She kept her body angled away, trying to increase the distance between them. 

Remus had been watching Y/N from the moment Lily had left. Not constantly, but just checking in every couple of minutes. It was a protective little habit that he had whenever she came to visit him at work.  

He’d seen the man sit down, immediately clocking him and the way Y/N seemed to be handling it. He knew he would intervene if he needed to. But then he saw it. The sleight of hand as the man’s fingers brushed the rim of Y/N’s glass.  

Remus was across the bar in seconds, fast and silent. The man didn’t even notice him until Remus’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist mid-motion, slamming it down against the bar. The man jolted and so did Y/N. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He growled. The room seemed to quieten and several heads turned. The man tried to jerk his arm back but Remus gripped it tightly. 

“I didn’t do anything!” The man scoffed, still trying to wrench his arm free. Remus used his spare hand to snatch the glass up. 

“No? ‘Cause it looked like you just put something in her drink.” Remus thrust the glass towards him, “Drink it then, if it’s alright. Go on.” 

Y/N was stunned into silence as she watched the altercation. Her mouth had gone dry when she realised what had happened.  

The man opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find a way to weasel himself out of the situation. 

What?” Remus pressed, “You’re that pathetic that you have to slip something into a girls drink just to be in with a chance of getting laid?” 

“I didn’t do anything so why don’t you just fuck off?” The man spat. 

Remus saw red and released his grip just long enough to grab the front of the man’s shirt and drag him towards him until their faces were inches apart, only the bar between them. His feet scrambled on the footrest of the barstool, trying to regain his balance. 

“You don’t talk to me like that. Not in my bar.” Remus seethed, “You come in here and try to drug someone – my girlfriend, no less – and then try to lie your way out of it? You’re fucking lucky that I’m still speaking instead of beating the shit out of you.”  

Remus gave him a sharp shove causing him to topple off the back of the stool and hit the ground with a thud. He stumbled to his feet, glaring at Remus. 

“I’d fuck off if I were you. You don’t step foot in this place again and if you do... I’ll fucking bury you.” Remus sneered.  

The man’s chest puffed like he was about to retort but any words he had died in his throat when he turned around to be greeted by two burly security guards. One of them grabbed his arm, the other gave him a rough push towards the exit. He didn’t argue, just muttered under his breath as they dragged him out. 

“You okay?” Remus’s gaze softened as he turned to look at his girlfriend who was anxiously biting her lip. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry – I should’ve moved away as soon as he came over-” 

“Not your fault, sweetheart. Fucking creep.” he was around the bar in a second, wrapping his arm around her shoulders tightly, “Let’s get you home, eh?” 

The flat was quiet when they stepped inside. It was soothing to Y/N’s pounding head from the noise of the bar. Remus locked the door behind them and turned the latch with more force than necessary. His jaw was still clenched but his touch was gentle on the small of her back as he guided her inside. 

“Sit down,” he gestured to the sofa, “I’ll make you a brew.” 

She nodded and curled up, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders. It wasn’t until she was in the still and silence that it suddenly hit her how close it had been. How wrong it could have gone if Remus hadn’t noticed. By the time Remus came back, two mugs of tea in hand, she was glassy eyed.  

“Here,” he said, “Tea makes everything better.”  

She drank it slowly as she watched him. His hands rested on her knees, tracing small, steady circles like he was trying to ground her.  

“I should have said something sooner,” she whispered, “I knew something felt off but I didn’t want to overact. What if you weren’t there and-” 

“No. Don’t do that to yourself.” Remus shook his head immediately, pulling her closer to him until she was nestled under his arm, “You shouldn’t have to expect something like that to happened just because you’re sitting alone for five minutes.” 

Y/N nodded, blinking fast trying to keep the stinging of tears in her eyes from spilling over. Her hand reached up and found the back of Remus’s head, running her fingers through his hair. He dipped his head down and kissed her softly. 

“I’ll always look out for you.” he murmured against her lips, “you know that, yeah?” 

Helpful links:

https://www.met.police.uk/advice/advice-and-information/spiking-advice/spiking/how-spiking-can-make-you-feel/

https://www.sandstonecare.com/blog/roofied/

Stay safe <3

[mirkhammett]

champagne coast / kirk

there’s a specific vibe i went for in this, and i don’t know if i manage to express it properly but..those coming of age movie parties with jeff buckley in the soundtrack ^.^ you get me?? this is my first time trying to write something longer than 400 words in a looong while, so pls bare with me and my clusters of infinite mistakes lol

reblogs, likes, comments and asks are all highly appreciated! if this gets some interactions i may do a part 2 with..fun stuff wink wink!! i also apologise for how rushed the ending is, but i gave up lol

summary: you meet a cute guitarist at a party, that’s about it ^.^

word count; 4.2k

warnings; mentions of drugs, smoking (tobacco+marijuana, reader+kirk smoke cigs)

i have not proofread this yet so expect mistakes!!

the summer breeze is discouraging. desolate plants are surviving just barely under the malicious sun, like a record that just keeps on playing; the aftermath of the music, the seconds of muffled silence as the vinyl spins effortlessly, and you know you should just get up and remove the stylus, because the impracticalness of such a simple act of futility, could end up with a damaged record. and no one wants a damaged record.

there’s often a local yearn for the heat, summer always seeming too far away in winter, as the miserable humidity is replaced with a sharp winter, ice flakes cutting like blades, which to some, would be considered worse. and to this sum, the summer breeze may be a blessing.

everything about this place could be deemed as overstimulating. from the immense mass of people, all in garments that would never live to see the day in a public place, with such little material- could these things really be considered as clothes? and judging by the majority of party-goers, your opinion would be considered unpopular.

the concrete is hot to touch- the unsteady porch not doing much to help. it’s slightly better than inside the house, though.

it isn’t too big, it’s just too small. a perfectly adequate residence for someone in their mid 20s to occupy, and it looks it too. the entryway of the house is not only filled with coats and others of the sort, but all 4 of the cream coloured walls are adorned in posters. some are easily known- you recognise one in particular as a promotional poster for a new thrash band, the logo on the corner signifying that whoever owns this, got it fresh from a record store window.

entering though the hallway into the kitchen felt like a treacherous task for you, under the oppressive temperatures. sporting this thin sweater may have not been the right choice, you criticise.

there’s a table in the kitchen. well, the remains of a table. empty beer cans are scattered across, and a half full bowl of punch sits, patiently waiting for its next victim to intoxicate with its high levels of ethanol, and god knows what else. you pondered if fresh orange juice was used, or artificial.

you feel their eyes on you before you see it. and then a hands reaching out to you. skinny, nimble fingers connected to a tanned wrist, paired with a couple dainty, gold, probably fake, bracelets. and that tanned wrist connects to an equally tan body, (of course.)

you look at her quizzically. she’s got flowing hair, brown ribbons of curl that shone with an orange tint under the shitty, dingy lamp illuminating the cramped room. and then you gazed up at her again.

do you know her? does she know you?

staring unblinkingly at her, you realise, is probably very much off putting. it’s hard to take kindness from strangers, well, for most people. it’s even harder to tell if that kindness is genuine. you believe in the idea, quality, or quantity. at least that’s what you tell yourself- and it maybe the whole reason you ended up in this predicament.

she’s got a man on her arm. he’s tall, well, he’s taller than both you, and her. his long, blonde hair is looking a little ratty, and you know she must have thought the same too. you can also tell he’s been trying to grow out a ‘horse-shoe’ moustache, judging by the minor prickles of hair, and the subtle shaping.

he’s looking at you like a guard dog- and his expression is fully straight. you can’t tell if he’s one of those people, that show a hard exterior, but really, is the complete opposite, or, if he is really a dick and is gonna punch you if you stare any longer. choosing a safe option, you glance back at her.

“here,” she nudges you again. oh, she’s got a cup. it’s one of those cheap, red plastic cups you always see in the movies- the frat party ones. her presence is warm. she smiles warmly. is that a thing?

“get yourself a drink.” and then she’s opening up the palm of your hand, and tightening your fingers around the plastic rim.

you hum in surprise. it’s not every day a complete stranger is nice to you. infact, you can only count one specific time where this happened before. the one time that led to you coming to this party, through the kindness of a once mutual, now, you felt comfortable enough to consider, just a friend.

“oh! thank you.” you give the best, closed mouth wide smile you can, though it seems more like a grimace.

she doesn’t care. they’re already gone.

the next room is slightly more interesting than the last, a blue strobe light left in the corner. thought it’s not glowing in multi colours like it should be, instead it’s just illuminating the room, which could be the antithesis of something spacious, in a pale blue hue. it’s reflecting off onto an old, worn leather couch with multiple holes, which you can only assume are from cigarette stubs.

the whole house has some sort of retro style, which you appreciate.

the summer breeze, once discouraging, now borderlining on something sinister. could the sun really have malicious intent? or is the world just hell bent against you?- with your fashion choices not accommodated to the ever changing weather.

you pass a couple of groups- they don’t look older than you, though they don’t look younger. but the bodies on bodies is all too much to handle, when everyone’s body temperature has accumulated into one big cacophony, a spell for disaster.

every thing was getting too much.

the grandfather clock standing proud, ticking in a futile rhythm, back and forth, on and off, a constant reminder of the stench of sweat covered bodies and the metallic aroma of almost empty cans of beer, for the sticky residue left behind, which had escaped out of one too many discarded cans, and seeped into possibly every material in this cramped hole of a living space. the longer this party would go on, the harder it would be to call this room a living space. scrap that, this is an un-liveable space.

the atmosphere was fine. the people were fine. everything was fine minding it’s own, but together, seeming like a recipe for a symphony of destruction.

luckily for you, there was an out.

big wooden doors, with bigger glass panels, providing the only symbol of a once eloquent residence. the whole house was, well, not modern, but in a sense it didn’t carry this vintage-ness; like the decorations of choice did- so it was a nice touch. at least you thought.

and those big wooden doors, led you to your freedom, or in other words, the patio.

upon first examination, the garden was split into two groups. the outdoor couch sitting area, which provided just as many cigarette burns as the excuse of a couch inside, but longer, presenting itself in an ‘L’ shape. and on this couch, sprawled out were a group of people, all comfortable in very, odd? positions. wait, on a different thought, not all.

he was very pretty from a first glance, his chocolate curls fading into something more, like black ribbons of coal, though they shone with a red tinge under the harsh glow from the ongoing sunset.

you never stopped to notice the sunset.

but he looked almost rigid. he seemed reserved. he seemed different. it was like he had purposely tried to squeeze himself down the cracks of the sofa, for it to swallow him whole. but then again, he didn’t seem anxious.

he held a joint between nimble fingers. from a distance, you could make out the red rashes lining them, small bloody scars, in such a recognisable pattern that you just knew all too well, he had to play guitar. often. he was having trouble smoking it, though. intimate breaths of wind cascaded his locks to cover his pretty features, sticking to his chapped lips as he brought up the blunt and examined, close and personal.

you pondered if maybe, just maybe, he was like you too. practically a stranger to this new world before your eyes, lacking the confidence to do anything to change it. sure, you were confident in yourself, there was no reason for you not to be. just, in social situations like this, it would tend to falter.

oh, wait. no, you take it back.

the guard dog from before-hand sits tall beside the curly brunette. he seems to be ranting about something. the nice girls not by his side anymore. you wonder if anything happened between them.

the ratty blonde sported a goofy grin. so you were right. a labrador in disguise. you stole a few more glances, before continuing down your trail.

you didn’t think you’d fit into other group either. this was was more, energetic, a pile of sweaty messes, a cheap speaker blasting heavy metal, with a crispness to the speaker that could never be recreated with a new one, nor the sense of comfort that comes with it. something worn down, worn with love, like a jacket, peeling at the seams. a jacket that’s been well loved by someone, despite its flaws.

it was hard to concentrate on your thoughts and breathe pure air properly with the booming deathly melodie’s of ozzy osbourne blasting, the bass managing to shake a loose rope swing hanging from an old oak tree. you thought it must’ve been a gentle reminder of childhood.

the path continued to trail on, the melancholic rock dying it by a couple slight octaves. then it ended. a large, unsteady fence stood tall, and not very proud. a bench resided, with 2 more oak trees, one on each side, in a way to protect the bench, preserve the wood from heavy sunlight.

the bench wasn’t the most comfortable, but it served for what it could. it was obviously aged down through the years, so really, you couldn’t complain.

the view was pretty. the sun going down, with all these people enjoying themselves, it was a gorgeous sight. though it was funny you still hadn’t wandered into the small minority you knew yet. though you were growing impatient under this blanket of loneliness, itching for something that would burn, something to exhale.

the pocket of your worn jeans were loose- loose enough to know that if something wanted to fall out, by all means it could. and now, after futile attempts to find your lighter, you prayed to anyone that would listen, please say i haven’t lost it.

but alas, the gods still weren’t on your side. maybe it was something in the air, which bubbled up into a fit of internal rage, your three-quarters empty pack providing a strong sense of tobacco, laying lifeless in your rigid lap.

“need a light?”

he walked up awkwardly, intertwining his hands together. his blunt was gone, whether he had finished it himself or passed it on, you didn’t know. he smiled warmly, and if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

and all of a sudden the unbearable heat was back, sending a tinge to yours cheeks, feeling like being trapped inside a car under the scorching sun- but he didn’t look affected by the heat, in his black button up (half un-buttoned), infact, he looked angelic under the hues of reds, purples, and yellows, and whatever else fit into the mix.

he seemed nice; nice enough, to even suggest such an offer to a stranger.

“please.” you mumbled, and he warmly reached his hand out, a battered, black lighter, one of the cheap ones from the convenience stores, clasped loosely. he wiggled his fingers. revealing the lighter to your gaze, he emitted that same, goofy smile, only now revealing his crooked pearls.

he sat down on the bench.

“you don’t know many people here, huh?” he questioned. though his voice wasn’t judgy, nor threatening.

well, it’s great that your efforts to stay on the down low went out the door. it’s even greater to know that people have noticed your outstanding loneliness.

“is it that obvious?”

he stifled a laugh, shrugging slightly, sporting a wide grin. “that’s okay,” he muttered. “you know, i don’t know many either.”

the reality seemed embarrassing, and with anyone else, you would never, on your own life, admit it. but somehow, in this moment, everything was different.

he fixed his posture, resting his hands in his lap, his head turned towards you. you pursed your lips, a small smile gracing. he looked down to your lap, cigarette still in your hand, and signalled for you to raise it.

you quickly caught on, assuming he would just hand you the lighter after you placed the cigarette between your lips. he did not.

instead he leaned in closer, bringing one hand to cover one side of the cigarette, the other to light it up effortlessly. oh, i guess that works too.

you took a puff, the inhale longer than the exhale, the smoke a delicious burn in your lungs. resting the cigarette between 2 nimble fingers, you bit your chapped lip.

“i’m kirk, by the way.”

“hi kirk,” you grinned, and told him your name. he grinned back.

he fiddled with his fingers, cracking his knuckles with expertise. and then he points at your shirt. “i like fleetwood mac, too.”

hanging with kirk wasn’t so bad. actually it wasn’t bad, not at all. somehow minutes turned into shorter minutes, 60 seconds seeming to pass all too quick. and those minutes were quickly consumed by a larger number, a black hole that could be called hours.

the night air had turned chilly, the effects of a bipolar summer very clear. the arrival of goosebumps took place, and so did a great warmth, the crackle of a fire pit, and the smell of fresh wood, the aroma of smoke. legs now touching one another’s as a multitude of different people sat around in criss-cross positions.

but that wasn’t where you found yourself.

sitting in the passenger seat of his run down black 70s capri, a heavy scent of cologne mixed with a faint essence of weed, hanging lowly, stuck into the leather seats. the key clattered as he pushed it into the lock, the engine starting up with a fierce roar.

a conversation about music had somehow led you here, sitting almost shyly in his car, legs folded upon one another. it all started with a singular comment about fleetwood mac, and in a matter of minutes you found yourself immersed in conversation, somehow sitting close together than you had before, the heat of his breath radiating closely as he enthusiastically ranted about led zeppelin IV. and then some more, about who he believed to be his biggest inspiration, jimi hendrix.

oh yeah, you learnt he plays guitar too.

and with a declaration that he was hungry, sported with his reddened eyes, you were off. well, you were never really given the choice. your hand grasped tightly in his, excitedly taken back through the garden, through the shitty cramped living space, (and him accidentally walking into the smaller couch), back through the kitchen with bottles now empty, red plastic cups now scattered, through to the entry way. with that same, sweet thrash poster now hanging on.

and as the car roared up, so did the symphonies of rolling stones, because you can’t always get what you want.

“so the blonde one, he’s your friend?”

the melody of the rolling stones, switching to the doors, a mix-tape he probably burnt himself, disrupted. god bless jim morrison.

he raised a brow, though still looking at the road ahead, answering quizzically. “which blonde one?”

you bit back a smile. “the scary blonde one, with long hair. and the pretty girlfriend.”

this caused kirk to grin, shaking his head slightly to stop his hair from disrupting his view of the darkened roads. the streetlights didn’t go much to help accommodate pedestrians, nor drivers. the headlights of his vintage vehicle were slightly darker than the average, but he seemed used to it.

“ah, james. he’s my bandmate. scary, no, long hair, yes, girlfriend, no. he doesn’t do girlfriends,” he hummed lowly. “he’s one of my bestfriends.” james. you wondered if he was still with the girl you earlier assumed to be his girlfriend.

and then you sat in silence for maybe 30 seconds, maybe a full minute, pondering your next words. he didn’t seem to mind, waiting just slightly impatiently for the red light to turn green and give the get go. he rolled down the window.

“do you do girlfriends?” you asked suddenly. the longer it took for him to form a response, the more you regretted ever asking. maybe that was too forward for a guy you hadn’t even known for a full day. but then you could argue that him taking you out for dinner was even worse.

he was caught off guard, quickly masking his suprise. “i…don’t know,” he spun the wheel with skill as he turned left into a parking lot of a 50s presenting dinner, sporting a glowing red sign, walls painted once white now a light yellow. he stopped the car as he pulled into a parking spot, twisting the keys. the engine abruptly stopped, and so did the music. and then he turned to look at you, with a small smile. “do you do boyfriends?” and that was when you finally made eye contact.

shrugging slightly, you looked from his eyes to your lap, and back up to his eyes again. “i don’t know.”

his grin widened, and you return the gesture.

the gleaming lights of the diner held a stark contrast to the gloomy sky, the current time being in the early hours of the morning very obvious- and in a couple hours you’d start to hear the birds cheep and the sky lighten, and determine it time for bed.

he led you into the diner, holding the door open for you like a gentleman, the little bell on top of the door chiming in recognition of your arrival.

and from there he traveled with experience of the 24-hour diner, to a booth hidden in the corner, though still visible under the cream glare of the flickering lights; almost too visible, you thought, the brightness of the lights already forming a subtle headache in the back of your mind. the two comforts of the booth were separated with a nimble oak wood table, the sturdiness of it which had definitely gone down in its many years of occupying this place.

he grabs two menus before sitting down on one side of the booth, and you follow, sitting down on the other. he hands you one menu, and opens his own.

“i want a milkshake.” he murmurs, his eyes still scanning over the menu. you lean over the table, your menu left unopened, shifting slightly to examine the contents of drinks he was looking at.

“which flavour?” you question, slumping back into your seat.

“dunno,” he puts the menu down, looking up at you. “what flavour do you want?”

his eye contact is almost too much to handle, causing you to look back down at your hands. he doesn’t comment on it, that is if he ever even noticed the slight tint of blush on your cheeks.

“vanilla.” throughout the options of chocolate, strawberry, and banana, there’s a clear winner.

“then that’s what we’ll get.” he smiles, his red hued eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. you bite the side of your lip, suppressing a grin, sporting a one sided, shy smile as you try to resettle your composure.

you open the menu, trying to distract yourself from the flush on your cheeks and the man sitting infront of you. his curls drop down as he tries to push them out of his face, watching you almost shyly.

“what are you gonna get?” you voice, finally looking up from the menu.

he tucks his black coils behind his ears. “the burger,” and then leans down slightly, his elbows making contact with the table, his eyes still on you. “do you wanna share?”

you nod, grinning widely. “okay, we’ll share.”

the diner lights flicker again, as well as the chime of the door, the slight rush of wind causing an appreciate breeze. there’s an empty coffee cup on the bar side, and an imprint in a red stool.

adorned in a teal coloured uniform, a tired, and pissed, (probably a college student), waitress takes your order. she doesn’t bother to put on a fake persona, and you don’t blame her. infact, you almost feel sorry that her nap in the staff room was cut short, by the puffiness of her eyes. as for kirk, he doesn’t even bat an eye at her as you order politely, his eyes still fixtated on you.

and in mere minutes the food arrives, a vanilla milkshake with a candied red cherry on top already in your grasp. kirk has taken to the task of trying to cut the burger evenly into 2 pieces, through frowns when he’s cut one slice bigger than the other. you take the smaller piece, knowing the effects of weed on your hunger. when he realises this, he pouts. “i’m not that hungry,” you explain, taking your first bite.

he pushes the fries further towards you. they’re in a wooden tray, with a tissue adorned with patterns of red and white squares underneath. you chew throughly before swallowing, setting the burger back down on the plate.

he reaches out for a fry, surprising you when he reaches even further towards you, bringing the fry up to your mouth. you take it, giggling.

while you chew on the fry with one hand, you pick up the milkshake with the other and bring the straw to his mouth, mimicking his previous movements. he smiles widely as he takes down a big gulp, laughing through his closed mouth. “wait, that’s so good.”

“i know!” you exclaim, taking a couple of salty fries from the bunch.

you dip a handful of fries into the milkshake, and he grimaces. “that’s criminal!”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “no it’s not,” you dip another one in. “you just don’t have taste.” he finishes his part of the burger ravenously, and you push the plate with your half eaten burger towards him.

“are you sure?” he questions, looking for any signs of unsureness on your face.

“only if i can have the cherry.” you bargain.

“deal,” he picks the cherry off from the top of the milkshake, wiping the whipped cream off from it with his finger, then bringing his finger to his mouth. he reaches out to give you the cherry. “here you go, m’lady.”

you let out another high pitched laugh, bringing the cherry to your plump lips and nibbling on the stem. the waitress cringes at the sound, leaning her head down in her hands and closing her eyes. you pity her.

kirk finishes the burger quickly, his next mission being reaching out for the fries. you’re not sure if he’s just got the munchies, or if he’s also even eaten today.

and soon enough, you’re flopping back into your seat, empty dishes covering the table. kirk is leaning towards you, smiling softly. you yawn, covering your face with a soft hand.

“you tired?” he murmurs, tilting his head as he smiles sweetly. you make a quiet sound, similar to a hum, and his smile grows. “okay,” he reaches over the table for your hand. “let me take you home.”

and then once again, your back in his passenger seat, the smell of cologne and marijuana now comforting. he puts the key in as softly as he can, and the second the car roars to life he takes it to himself to turn the radio down to the lowest level, looking over at you. you’re slumped in the seat, your head towards the window. he just grins.

the sky isn’t so dark anymore, a greyish dark blue, with a slint orange before sunrise. “i’m gonna need you to give me directions, ‘mkay?” he pulls out of the car park as you respond quietly, giving him the directions.

a few minutes into the ride, you realise he’s going miles below the speed limit, to keep the car steady, and not pull you out of your sleepy state. he’s humming along to the radio, his finger tapping the wheel at every beat.

trees pass in a flash, so do streetlights and benches, sets of three drains, and a couple single drains too.

then time flashes again and he’s pulling up outside your apartment, already outside the passenger door and beating you to open it. he walks you to the doorway of the building, stopping and playing with his hands.

you look up at him, smiling shyly. he does the same. “thank you for tonight, kirk,” you hesitantly open the building door. “do you wanna, maybe, do this again?”

“o-of course. i’d love to.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the slight flush tinting his cheeks, rushing down into his neck and shoulders. he fumbles in his pocket for a piece of ripped newspaper and a pen, scribbling down his home phone number in messy writing, and if it was anything but numbers you’d have a hard time reading it. “call me, okay?”

“okay.” you grin softly, stepping into the doorway.

he backs up, smiling as he waves you off. “okay.”

and then the door shuts.

[vodika-vibes]

Vod’ika my dear!

I humbly ask to be wowed by your writing once again with an ask for “soft kisses along their jaw” from the Physical Romantic Gestures that Make Me Weak list with Grain please? (Shocker it’s for Grain, I know lol)

-💋 anon

His Distraction

Summary: Grain works hard, too hard, so you decide to help force him to relax.

Pairing: CMO Grain (Clone OC) x Reader

Word Count: 805

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @kiss-anon

Divider by Saradika

Of all the things you love most in the world, you have to admit that your boyfriend of 6 months is probably the top of the list. He’s handsome, kind, and respectful. Also, he’s amazingly smart. 

Of course, you haven’t quite gotten to the point where you’re comfortable saying the big L word to him, but you’re close.

You just don’t want to scare him away is all.

Grain, somehow, seems to think that he’s not good enough for you, and nothing you say, or do, can convince him otherwise.

You rest your chin on your folded arms, a lovesick smile on your face, as you watch him do his paperwork for the evening. He knows you’re staring at him judging by the slightly flustered look on his handsome face, and you muffle a giggle as he pulls his datapad so it’s covering his face.

“You’re doing this intentionally,” He accuses good naturedly.

“Of course. You’re gorgeous.” You reply easily.

“Oh, I didn’t know that there was a mirror on the back of my datapad.” Grain muses thoughtfully.

And it’s your turn to flush pink, “You know, the fact that you say things like that makes you even more attractive to me.”

He glances at you with a small, mischievous smile on his lips, “I speak only the truth, cyare.” Grain replies solemnly.

You grin at him, “How much longer until you’re done with work?” 

“Well, seeing as I’m going to be working until the day I die-”

You sigh and drape yourself across his desk, “Grain!”

“Okay, okay! I only have a few more charts I need to fill out,” He replies with a laugh, “Though, they can probably wait until tomorrow…”

“Yes! Let them wait until tomorrow,” You say as you perk up immediately.

He tries to shoot you a stern look, though an amused smile plays on his lips, “These are important.”

“Yes, they are. But so is rest. Isn’t that the thing you say to Riff all the time? Stillness is as good as movement. Or something?”

“I…may have said something like that to my stubborn older brother, yes.” Grain admits.

“And if it’s good enough for Riff then it’s good enough for you.” You push yourself to your feet and circle his desk, before you promptly settle yourself on his lap, “Please?” you ask as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Cyare-”

You drop your head to his shoulder, you know that tone of voice. That’s Grain’s ‘I’m sorry, I have to finish this’ voice. Which means it’s time to pull out the big guns.

You shift your head slightly and press a light kiss just under his ear. And Grain stills, his voice stopping mid-sentence. A giggle falls from you, but you don’t allow his sudden stillness to stop you.

You are on a mission, after all. 

You trail your lips down his jaw, stopping every now and then to press hot, open mouthed, kisses against his jawline, and you release a happy hum when you feel his hands settle on your hips. 

“Please Grain,” You purr, as you kiss his jaw, and then allow your lips to drift down to teasingly nip at his neck, an action that pulls a strangled noise from his lips, “You need a break, and I’m so very lonely.”

Grain releases a shaky breath, “I know what you’re trying to do, cyare.” A low groan escapes him as you nip his neck once more, “This stuff is important-” He tries.

“Not so important that it won’t hold until tomorrow,” You counter, your lips moving to continue their lazy trail against his jawline. “Just a short break,” You bargain, “Only for an hour or so?”

His hands flex on your hips, “And what, exactly, do you plan for this hour?” Grain asks.

You grin against him, and you reach down to grip his hands on your hips. You slowly, teasingly, guide his hands under your shirt, until their resting just over your ribs, “I was thinking,” You coo, “That I could pull out that new paint set I have, and you can paint me.”

“That sounds…messy.” Grain notes, as his calloused hands start gently caressing your sides.

“Mm, and then we can shower together,” You offer impishly.

A sharp breath leaves him, “Is that right?”

“Who better than you to make sure all the paint is washed off?” You tease, and then you tilt your head to the side. Just a little more, and you’ll have him. “Besides,” You offer slyly, “I do, so, love being naked under you.”

“Fuck.” Grain breathes out, one of his hands flies to the back of your neck, and he pulls you into a messy kiss, “You win, cyare.”

You giggle against his lips, “I always do.” And you happily accept the second kiss he offers you.

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi! If it’s not too much, could I request a matchup for One Piece and Hikyuu?

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Demi

Zodiac/MBTI: Scorpio, INFJ-T

Appearance: 5’1”, Mid length blonde hair, very pale skin, light freckles across my nose, green eyes, slightly chubby

Personality: Due to being neurodivergent, I am incredibly guarded when I meet someone new…if my RBF isn’t scaring them off then my silence probably will! In all honesty, I’m just not used to people wanting to interact with me and I don’t know what to talk about- small talk has never been my strong suit plus I don’t know what kind of common ground we have. It makes finding topics to talk about difficult, but I make a great listener! I won’t really open up until I’ve met you a few times and I can tell that you won’t judge me, only then do I get a bit louder with my responses and start making little jokes (I might even tease someone every now and again! You have to be really special to me for that to happen though…) Stick with me long enough and you’ll get to see me for the clumsy, overdramatic, passionate goof that I actually am. I am the ultimate ride or die for those I care for and I want to make sure they know I care for them!!

Likes and dislikes: I love food (literally the least picky eater I know), looking at the stars, old movies, Star Trek, sunflowers, nicknames, greens/blues/yellows, bugs. My absolute favorite thing to do is laugh (it’s not hard to make me laugh, I am quite giggly. I also kind of like the sound of my own laugh, especially if you can get me to snort lol). I dislike large crowds, anything orange flavored, and when someone turns the tv up too loud.

Hobbies: Baking, sewing, writing, being terrible at video games but the best at card games

Extra info: I am quite literally the type to get deep red and have to spend 10 minutes factory resetting at the slightest hint of affection, I am not used to it at all. I will actually turn into goo, but please don’t stop, I secretly love it.

Thank you so much in advance!!

Hi Galaxy! Thank you for your request! Sorry it took so long. I am currently up to episode 447 (Impel Down) of One Piece, so please keep that in mind while reading. I hope you like your matchups!

In One Piece, I match you with...

Sanji balances you out nicely. For all your guarded, difficult to approach, somewhat standoffish personality traits, he’s there to counter it, for both your sake and others.

Will give you bouquets at every possible opportunity and always does his best to include sunflowers in there somewhere.

Always makes sure to remove orange flavouring from your food. If there’s a recipe that calls for it, he’ll make them normally but leave a few aside minus the orange so you can enjoy them as well.

If you thought you were ride or die, you clearly haven’t met Sanji. This guy takes loyalty to a whole other level. He’s never going to leave your side if he has anything to do with it.

Will pour all of his affection onto you, especially since he knows you secretly like affection and being flustered. He’s all over it, you’ll never feel neglected when he’s around!

In Haikyuu, I match you with...

Kuroo is another good match for you since I think you’re actually quite similar. The only difference is that Kuroo is a bit more outgoing than you.

He strikes me as someone who is neurodivergent as well so he can certainly empathise with you. If you’re the kind of person to infodump, he will eagerly return the favour, especially if you share interests.

Speaking of interests, I can definitely see Kuroo as someone who likes Star Trek and old movies. He finds them interesting and likes comparing them to modern films to see how much technology has improved.

I see Kuroo as someone who doesn’t mind being in big crowds but he’s also more than happy to help you avoid them if you prefer.

He’s a lot more subtle in his affection than Sanji but that doesn’t mean he won’t still fluster you. He’s got a way with words that seems to come out of nowhere and will leave you speechless.

[payitnomindd]

It’s time for me to talk about shame

PART III : relationships

I absolutely hate the fact that I’m having my first friendships break up in my mid-late 20´s, it’s very embarrassing because they are formative years and the time to strengthen all of your relationships. You know who you are, you’ve known your friends for a long period of time, you have an amazing circle of supportive people around you and you’re ok with no meeting new people.

But, I don’t. I’m quite old and I don’t know if I’ll ever have close friends. I feel like I’m too old and people are gonna judge me for not having having anyone around me.

I am not a bad person at all but I have found out that I don’t have good conflict resolution skills. I never had to resolve any conflict and I don’t know how to do it without simply leaving the person I’m in conflict with. I wish I would speak up as soon as someone does something that’s bothering me but I don’t.

You know what I do? If I notice something is wrong, I write it in my personal diary. I notice it but don’t confront the person. I wait for something else to happen and if multiple things happen, I will pretend that nothing is going on and just distance myself from the person. I don’t confront sometimes i tell myself that maybe I’m just misinterpreting what’s going on, maybe I’m wrong.

I remember at my previous job when a boss told me something and I just did it without question and one of my colleague told me that I was letting them step on me and I was like UGH??!! wym?? And it was not the first time that people have told me to speak up. When it’s blatant disrespect, I do speak up actually but sometimes i can’t see it because I can’t always recognise when I’m being disrespected and I think that people think they can get away with it but when I notice it, I just leave without a word.

How do I even defend myself if I don’t even know that I’m being targeted or disrespected?

I do have strong boundaries, I tend to defend other people when they’re being disrespected in front of me but why can’t I just be more confrontational when it comes to me? Why am I so afraid to lose people’s love if I confront them about something that hurtled me? It makes me so uncomfortable to know that somebody might love me less if I tell them that I’ve been hurt by something that they have done to me or something they said. I know it’s ridiculous but I don’t want them to see me in any other way than the perfect friend. I don’t want the relationship to change if I tell them how I feel.

But,

I’m also aware that if my friend gets upset when I tell them that something they’ve done is bothering and now I’ts uncomfortable to be around them, then they’re not a real friend of mine. It would actually be a good thing right? Instead of just letting it simmer in me, waiting for something else to happen to confirm my doubts about them. I will now stop doubting myself and be upfront about what’s bothering me even thought it feels uncomfortable.

I need to start doing it when I’ll have friends lol. I really don’t know how to navigate relationships, it’s always been hard for me so I’d rather stay alone but after years of isolation it is really difficult for me to go out and meet people.

I’ve gained weight, I’m broke, jobless, friendless and living in a country I feel I don’t belong to.

Im tired of being the victim of my life, I’ve been in that negative cycle for so long, that I don’t know how to get out of it. I want to laugh, dance, sing, travelling, create great memories with other people but I don’t know how to and I’m afraid that having a good support system was not written in the stars for me in this lifetime.

Im afraid that im becoming like my parents. They never had friends coming over, they never really went out with friends, I know that my mom especially has been burned by her friendships and that she has some trauma around it and I’m scared that I’m becoming like her. My dad knows a lot of people but I doubt that he has close friends. He has his family but they’ve been very abusive with him but that’s his family and he sticks with them.

I’m becoming my mom and I don’t want that. I want to break that cycle of isolation because of trauma. I hope that I will find people who will replace those bad friendships memories with good ones. I have this fantasy about childhood friends who are still friend after 20, 30, 50 years but I have to make peace with the reality of my life and the fact that it won’t be me. That’s make me a little bit sad, ngl.

I really want to meet amazing people that would never make me doubt their friendship with me. I want to be able to let go with them. I want my sensitivity to be held and cared for, and I want to do the same for them. I want introspective people who are not afraid to speak up, who have made their mission to be as gentle as assertive in every way possible with their life. Go getters, motivational, who like to have fun and talk about ideas, share ideas, intellectually stimulating, who like to talk about what they discovered, always curious, they go out, they’re generous, they’re loyal, creative, they watch Thai gls lol, they’re queer, weird, funny, not afraid of being themselves, I want all my relationships chains and blocks to be destroyed by them and me by the deep love and respect we have for each other, I want long lasting friendships, I want to grow with them, be annoyed by them, I want us to lift each other up, to not be afraid to be in conflict because we know our friendship matters more so we’ll talk about it and get it I’ve with without being shady toward each other. I want us to want to see each other gros and be the best version of ourself, genuinely, i don’t want that jealousy bullshit, i know it’s inevitable but i want people who can transform those negative energy into something motiving and not put it on the person they feel insecure about. I want to want to see them, be around them because we feel good to each other. I dont want to have that blur between friends and lovers, i want us to choose to support each other. I’m not even asking for a lot of friends (release me from the shackles of trio friendships) I want them to make me feel like I didn’t know what laughing was before meeting them, make me feel like I’ve never known what being cared for and loved just because I’m me felt like before meeting them. I don’t want manipulation or betrayal, I want people with similar shared values and who stand up ten toes down for others idk I just want us to fit together, to make sense, people who were meant to meet each other in this lifetime because it was written in the stars for us in the best way possible, an amazing gift given to us.

I just need to go out lol

[bisluthq]

Btw, you can’t judge Joe’s looking younger on Billy Lynn totally to what you see. He had to gain 20 lbs and shave his head, and do actual boot camp training for that role. Ang said he was too skinny. It gave his face a more youthful, baby fat look. Right now he does look his age, but there were times he looked older or younger, in his mid to late 20s. I thought he looked 19 in the movie he did with Callum. Talking about Billy Lynn reminded me of the 2016 Met Gala. That is when I saw him in a pic with Eddie Redmayne. Now, after all this time, Joe will be working with Eddie. It is a crime thriller movie. Someone compared it to Silence of the Lambs, if I remember correctly, which sounds it might contains a little horror too.

he looked different in Billy Lynn for sure because he bulked up and shaved his head, but he did look younger when he was, well, younger? In the pics we’ve seen of him with Linds, he looks significantly younger than her for example and she’s only 6 months older than him? They were 20/21 at the time but he looked 17-19 tbh. There isn’t a big difference between his high school pics and his uni pics like for a while there he was kinda stuck just looking that way lol. In Last Letter, I’m not sure if he looks younger than he was or if it’s just so noticeable because the casting in that movie was so so so so very bad. If there were Razzies for casting directors like that person should’ve “won” that tbh because Joe WAS way too young to play the character he was playing, he didn’t just look that way like he was WAS, because he’s meant to be a cold badass business tycoon and he’s a sweet looking 30 year old lol so it’s sorta hard to believe. Callum was also pretty badly miscast because Callum’s look is way too dark and broody to have played the character he was playing. I think that character should’ve been played by someone like Tom Holland (HE was probs too expensive but hopefully you feel me re the look - maybe Thomas Brodie-Sangster? Or Harris Dickinson although he was maybe a bit young to be paired with Shailene when they filmed that and I think Shailene actually was a solid choice) and Joe’s character should’ve been played by someone like Theo James or even like Tom Hiddleston or Tom Ellis. Very classically handsome and distinguished but older and ergo colder.

I don’t take “like this movie” bits seriously fwiw re the thriller because I feel like people just say that to hype their project and it’s rarely actually like the thing they’re likening it to.

[sneezemonster15]

i can totally understand why young girls would ship SS in the early-mid 2000’s. it was so easy to self-insert. take me for example, i was a young child with an unrequited crush on a popular boy and a total loser. i projected hard. she started getting on my nerves really quick tho. by the time i figured out how to watch shippuden (it was only available online in my country) i could no longer stand her. i know many people grew out of that ship as they matured themselves and realized just how bad it was, but i seriously don’t understand how so many of the og fans are still around, reveling in scraps given to them only in the form of non-canon material. it’s so embarrassing. and knowing that so many grown ass women cling to that nasty ship as if their lives depend on it makes me squirm in discomfort.

Wait I am confused. This person was a boy or a girl?

I think I understand. I know for a fact that there are many SNS fans who once were SS shippers. But they grew up and took responsibility for how they consumed media, which happens when a certain amount of self awareness sinks in..with time and experience..internally processing data received from the external world, which as a result, sharpens your intuition. Which then directly affects how you view and then process further external data. Data gathered from real life and media.

I suspect that many SS/NH shippers who are insanely delusional about their ship are simply operating on emotions. Think about the kind of arguments they give others. They know what constitutes canon, what doesn't. They know SNS is legit, it's all fucking there. They know SS is bullshit, they know Kishi mocks Sakura and SS like no one's business (like honestly, who's asking him to do it? Really what obligation is he under? This otherwise humble, quietly intelligent, kinda goofy, a bit childlike and deeply introspective at the same time, and frankly kinda mousy man, says such blatantly snarky and downright insulting shit about his own characters as if he ain't the author who is freaking writing them that way in the first place. Lol, no really, Kishi is a bundle of contradictions himself.) Lol.

But coming back, I really do struggle sometimes to find the right tone to talk about SS stans or address them. I suspect internet and anonymity gives them a free rein to exercise fulfilment of desires indiscriminately. They can behave however they want, believe whatever makes them happy and no one gets to destroy that as long as they are fulfilled. Numbers help. Stans give and receive validation from their peers. Whatever external validation they need to keep believing in SS ship, despite everything that negates it in canon, they get from others in their ship and they give validation to them in return. A sense of community builds. There's strength in numbers. And so dogmas and headcanons acquire a semblance of truth for them, through this very effective echo chamber, it fortifies their wacky theories and headcanons and they sheath themselves deliberately from reason, or anything that threatens to question their beliefs/belief systems that serve the object of their self comfort, desire, fulfilment. Their beliefs are really emotional in nature, you can't fight emotions, and internet gives them a platform to experience those emotions. Age doesn't matter if one isn't self aware. Lots of old people are shitty. Of course, I don't support enabling it but I guess I understand it a bit. Because I also get emotional here. I feel much more free to experience my raw emotions without trying to camouflage it too much. I reasoned with myself soon after joining this fandom, my first fandom, that here, I was a fan first, so I shouldn't judge myself too harshly for my opinions and understanding. A lot of which is way more emphatic compared to how much I would let it show it IRL. Media, stories and art have that effect on people.

And I feel conflicted sometimes. But well, the same reason exculpates me as well. I can be emotional and talk about them freely because this is a fandom and we are all here because of the same story that affected all of us. The only difference is we are insecure about different things. Lol.

Which is why I make it a point to not interact with them, because I know I would lose my patience with them much sooner than I with other people I don't generally agree with.

I understand why women do it. Even if I cannot relate with Sakura. So I vent on this platform while not actively engaging them.

But at the end of day, I feel everyone should expect so much more from themselves because more than anything else, Sakura's and Hinata's characters by design are so limited. Like I know it's all tied up with their self esteem, or its lack thereof, but at least don't glorify something that makes you this limited and miserable. Don't tell me it's better than everything else and is the best thing in the world because it is not. It is so small, So cheap. Such a piddling thing, so reductive and limiting and humiliating. Why project on those two? You should expect so much better from yourself. Like why can't you dream bigger at least in your imagination? Where you can have everything or anything you want, and nothing gives you a better opportunity to do that than media, but you choose the most limiting of all things and characters? Isn't it suffocating and painful? Well, in any case, just don't glorify it, turning a blind eye to facts and then gaslight me for my stuff. That's not acceptable. Even if I know where you are coming from, don't justify it. It gives the wrong impression to others, especially other women, who have enough odds stacked against them already for you to jump in on the bandwagon too, and being women yourselves no less, it's humiliating for both of us.

They use their emotions as a free ticket to say and do things indiscriminately, without thought and honesty. Cultivating emotions (and sharing them) should enrich you and help you grow, not make you regress even more.

[hyunjilicious]

a helping hand [henry cavill] - part 2

A/n: I’m sorry it took me so long. I don’t like how this part turned out, at all, but I rewrote it 3 times and I can’t even think about these scenes anymore without getting annoyed. I’m just happy it’s finished and that I can start working on part 3 (that is, if you like this one enough to want to keep reading lol)

Summary: After you post on onlyfans a video starring another man, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. (cameo: Steve Rogers) KINKY 4k

Warnings: spanking, daddy kink, dirty talk, mentions of smut and masturbation (male), humiliation/degradation kink, groping, mentions of porn and filming pornographic material, stalker-ish/obsessed Henry. (also tumblr crashed when I first tried to upload this so maybe that a sign this sucks)

You can read part 1 here!

-

The sight brought down a storm upon Henry's mind. He stood there, mouth agape, watching the screen, unable to believe his eyes. It was one thing to post videos of yourself on the Internet, but to have someone else take part in them was too much. At least for Henry. Still smart and composed, he realised there wasn't anything he could do about it, but nevertheless, he was determined to not let this shit slide for much longer. 

As much as he wanted to hunt down that man who dared put his hands on you, Henry gathered himself, took a deep breath and closed the onlyfans page. He was perfectly aware that just the right amount of you could get him to lose his sense of control and do things he'd later regret. Still, in desperate need to see you, he grabbed his phone, eyes scheming over your socials, only to see that the last time you had been active was 7 minutes ago. So, without much consideration, he started typing.

"You up?"

"Yep. Finishing up an essay. Coffee in 30??"

Oh, and how deeply that hurt him. "Of course" he sent you, and then checked again the post you made at 3am. '...I'll go to sleep right now, edit it for you when I wake up...'

You were lying? Why were you lying to him? It drove him insane. Henry felt like he couldn't sit down anymore, like he had no chance to catch his breath. He couldn't think straight, so he wasn't really to blame for what he did next. 

Henry's fingers flew over the keyboard, accessing Facebook and logging into your account, desperate to see whether he could find out who the man in your video was. And it was as easy as it could've been, considering your last 5 conversations were with the girl friends he already knew about. But somewhere among them, he spotted an unfamiliar name - Steve R., and instantly clicked and opened the conversation. His blood started to boil when the multitude of emojis you sent reached his eyes, but he scrolled up, until he found the beginning of yesterday's conversation. 

It was started by you, and with a request. You were blunt and went straight for it, asking him with just one message to be in the video with you. There was no trace of your relationship with him on the Internet, so Henry had no idea regarding the nature of yours and Steve's connection. Judging by the way you addressed him, he could easily assume the man was nothing more than a fuck buddy. Even though it angered him, Henry kept his calm and decided to go about this with care. It would only be a matter of time until he removed Steve from your life. But for now, he just had to keep digging for information. 

Steve R.: "Exactly what do you need me to do, baby? Spank you? In front of the camera? Are you serious?" 

"Yes, Steve. Come on!! I know we haven't seen each other in a while, but still... 😇 when it comes to these things, you know me better than anyone"

Henry scoffed. Who the fuck was this guy?

Steve R.: "I know, baby"

Steve R.: "What's in it for me?"

Smoke came out of Henry's ears, and the fact that you acted so sweet and innocent made him want to smash his keyboard.

"Whatever you want! Just do this for me!!! Please!!!! 🥺😊😋"

Steve R.: "Ofc I'll do it, sweetheart. I got you"

"Thank you thank you thank you 😘"

Steve R.: "I should be the one to thank you"

Steve R.: "Send me the location and I'll be over there asap"

After that, your address followed and then that was it. Determined to dig deeper, Henry started to scroll up again, wanting to find out as much as he could about this mysterious man. He didn't get a chance to lurk too much before this computer alerted him of a notification, the onlyfans tab glowing orange. His attention was instantly won, smiling devilishly as he checked the content.

Posted 30 seconds ago, was the new video. Ready to kick back and enjoy, Henry pressed the play button, ready to go at it with an open mind. 

He reluctantly accepted the fact that there was another man in it with you, but he decided to enjoy it nevertheless. The video started, displaying Steve seated on the couch, thighs suggestively parted. He had a pair of black dress pants on, dangerously stretched over his massive thighs. A white, elegant shirt hugged his visibly sculpted torso, the top two buttons undone to show just a hint of chest hair. Quite a sight, but all Henry saw was trash. With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a silver watch on his wrist and a pinky ring on, Steve patted his thigh, cueing your entrance.

When Henry saw you, he felt his breath reach a new, sudden level of difficulty. With the shortest of skirts barely managing to cover your ass and a mostly see-through shirt on your top half, you made your way to him in such an angelic way that Henry couldn't believe his eyes. 

You looked like happiness personified, and it came in such a painful contraction to what you were about to do, that it twisted Henry's mind in such a perverse way, his cock nearly twitched just by seeing you. 

When you were about to bend over Steve's thigh, he grabbed your chin and stopped you mid action, his lips slamming against your as his free hand lewdly caressed your ass. He flung the skirt over your hips, your flimsy underwear on full display. 

Attentive to the events unfolding on the screen, Henry found his cock, teasingly rubbing it over the material of his pajama pants. His mouth watered when he felt the sensibility in his tip, actually believing this would be easier than he initially anticipated.

"Are you going to be Daddy's good little girl, or do I have to make this fucking hurt?" Steve asked and Henry almost threw up. 

"Yes, Daddy. I'll be good" you mewled, wiggling your feet. 

"Let's see" the man menacingly chuckled, releasing a sharp slap against your ass that made you yelp out in pain.

At this point, about 30 seconds in that was, Henry was already losing his mind. It was as if you took a trip inside his dreams and decided to play out his fantasies. The only problem was that you did it with another man. It was next to impossible for him to keep this going.

"Can you count?" Steve taunted, his hand traveling all over the back of your thighs, your exposed ass and between your legs. 

"Yes, Daddy" you eagerly nodded and Henry almost threw up.

"I wouldn't be surprised if a dumb slut like you didn't know how to" Steve chuckled, "But it's ok, that's how we like our girls. Dumb and pretty"

"Thank you, Daddy"

Henry couldn't believe his eyes. He refused to accept the fact that a random man got to play with your innocence like that. You were his sweet little girl. And if until now he pushed through heroically, when literal yelps of pain started erupting from your lips as the blonde man slapped your ass hard enough to rock your whole frame, Henry's blood ran cold.

But no matter how hard the jealousy had hit him, the video was still pushing his limits of self control. It was still what he always wanted to see. When he reached inside his pants and grabbed his cock, a low grunt of early satisfaction left his lips. He once again found himself picturing you, willing to please him, but this time, he didn't get to go too far. The buzzing sound of his doorbell rang through his apartment, and he never stood up faster.

Cock still hard and completely visible through his pants, Henry slapped the pause button and minimized the browser, before springing to his feet and rushing to the door.

"Henry!" you exclaimed as soon as he came into view. He looked somehow tired, but it was easy to tell there was something else bothering him. "You didn't answer your phone" you pouted.

"Yeah, sorry" he shook his head, a few sweaty curls falling against his forehead. "I was busy with something. What's up?"

You raised your eyebrows and pointed to the door of your apartment, "You said you'd come over? Coffee? Remember?"

"Oh, shit, yeah" Henry cringed, rubbing his forehead. "I'll be over in 10 minutes, that ok?"

"Sure" you beamed, completely oblivious to the way he just tried to get rid of you. With utter nonchalance, you pushed your way past him and strolled into the kitchen.

"You wanna wait here?" he muttered.

"Yeah... Is that a problem? I can leave..."

"No, no" Henry eventually sighed and rushed over to you. He cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead. "Wait here, I'll be right back"

And that was what you did. You silently sat down, grabbing a bag of chips you found laying around, and settled to wait. And maybe, a few seconds passed where nothing devious came to mind, but as time ticket itself away, boredom got to you. First you stood up, and padded to the hallway, looking around. There was almost nothing new over there, but it still felt so homey you absolutely loved to inspect every detail. The TV in the living room was turned off, a couple of pizza boxes on the floor and his DVD cases laying around - absolutely nothing interesting.

You sighed and plopped down on his couch, folding your legs under your body, ready to flip through the channels on TV until he'd decide to join you. Nothing seemed of interest, being bombarded with news and fishing programs. "Old man" you thought to yourself, before opening up the menu in search for something less depressing. A wave of nostalgia hit you when you came across a Spiderman marathon, and you were done for. Maybe one full episode passed until Henry walked out of the bathroom, but you were nowhere near ready to leave.

"Look what's playing!" you beamed, pointing to the screen. Henry raised his eyebrows in amusement, his shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at your unusual choice of entertainment. 

"Are you serious? Cartoons?"

"Yes!" you scoffed, extending your arms and gesturing for him to join you. Although reluctant at first, Henry agreed to sit and watch the show with you, but not before brewing some coffee first.

When he returned from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in tow, you shuffled to the side and welcomed him on the couch. He brought you close against him, draping his arm around your body. With your head resting on his shoulder, you sipped your coffee, eyes glued to the TV. "You seriously never watched these as teen? You were 11 when it came out."

"I did" Henry laughed, rubbing his hand up and down your side, "I was in love with Felicia Hardy"

"MJ was so much better!" you shook your head disappointed, "You have no taste"

"No need for that" Henry threatened, his fingers exploring their way down your body. The way he trailed his hand across your hips and thighs made you squirm, smiling to yourself as you shuffled closer to him.

Henry was more than happy to reciprocate, kissing your forehead and squeezing you tighter. 

And just like that, you didn't care about Spiderman anymore. You flung your leg over Henry's lap, all but crawling on top of him. The episode was still playing in the background, but none of you was paying attention anymore. Henry wrapped his muscular arms around your frame, eliciting a soft moan from your lips as you pushed your hips down against his thigh. His hands traveled lower, exploring your body with delicate but greedy strokes. 

As you let yourself get carried away with absolutely no worry in mind, Henry knew exactly what he was doing. And considering how easily you let your guard down, he had you right where he wanted. 

When you hid your face in the crook of his neck, your nose rubbing across the slope of his collarbone, Henry's right hand found your ass. You froze for a second, but his gentle caress helped you relax again in an instant. With his lips against the top of your head, he allowed his fingers to sink into your flesh. Your whole frame stiffened as you gathered a handful of his hoodie into your fist.

"What's wrong?" Henry cooed, grabbing your chin, "You ok?"

"Yep" you whimpered, and then winced again as he squeezed your ass once more. "I'm good-" you lied, cupping the side of his neck into your palm as you crawled higher up his body, your lips right against his ear. 

As weak as he was for you, Henry stood his ground. If you wanted to play this game, he'd do it, but he wouldn't let you win.

"Does this hurt?" he asked, roughly groping your ass.

Jumping slightly from the pain, you still managed to shake your head, blurting out another lie. "... no"

"What about this?" Henry teased, grinning widely as he shoved his hands inside your leggings, under your panties. 

The urgency of his touch made your eyes open wide, your back arching as you tried to push yourself off of him.

"Does it hurt, darling?" he continued, keeping you in place with ease. 

Defeated, you sighed and lowered your gaze, "A bit" you mumbled.

"Just a bit?" 

"Henry-"

"Did he fuck you good?" 

Your mouth fell open. "What- no, I didn't- we didn't do anything-"

"Didn’t do anything?" Henry grinned, his perfect teeth showing as he proudly pried information out of you.

"I just... fuck-" 

Seeing no way out of this one, and eager to stop hiding, you pushed yourself back. Henry's hands left your body as you sat beside him, and he watched you curiously, patiently waiting for you to word your thoughts. "I just filmed a video for my page, that's all" you bowed your head.

"What kind of video?" Henry questioned.

His demeanour was so relaxed, he was right in his element, unlike you, who were riled up to the extreme. "A spanking video-" you cleared, awkwardly fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 

"Did he spank you good?" 

His hand found your hips again, and you leaned into his touch, nodding your head yes as you were too embarrassed to actually word your answer.

"Then show me" 

He was dominant and stern, and even if you wanted to, you felt like saying no wasn't an option. Henry didn't wait for your permission as he grabbed your waist and pulled you up to your knees, chuckling softly to himself when he saw you shyly smile down at him. 

His fingers curled around the waistband of your leggings, forcefully pulling them down your thighs. "Come on" he urged you, softly guiding you to lay down across his lap, your ass barely covered by the pinkish and slightly unflattering underwear you had chosen for the day.

Henry's breathing picked up at the sight, and so did yours. You watched him over your shoulder, his fingers tracing over the bruises Steve left on your bum the night before. 

"Henry-?" you whimpered, the anticipation building up in the pit of your stomach becoming too much to bear. 

"Yes, darling?" he cooed, leaning down to the side to kiss your cheek. His stumble tickled your skin and you whimpered when his hand made its way between your legs.

You felt his fingers against your opening and involuntarily clenched your thighs around him, hiding your face in the cushions of below your head.

"Tell me" Henry pushed, teasing your folds and clit over your underwear. 

"Nothing, I-" you cried, making him chuckle.

He loved giving you a taste of your own medicine. He straightened himself up and grabbed your ass into his hands, squeezing until you yelped out in pain. A soft laughter of approval escaped his throat as he bent down and pressed his lips to one of your cheeks, applying lingering kisses over each and every single bruise. 

The way he took control of the situation and handled your body, turned you on to no end. For whatever reason, being exposed like that for him, waiting for any kind of judgement to leave his lips, you were getting more and more riled up by the second. You were done for. You did your best not to moan with need, but little did you know that was exactly what kept you from being thrown onto the floor and fucked into oblivion. Just one single sign was all you needed in order to break his self control, but you didn’t have it in you to do it. 

But he didn’t say anything, instead just keeping you on your toes as he had his way. You were dripping through your underwear, and judging by the bulge in his pants that pushed up against your belly, you knew he was on the same page as you. But again, he didn’t allow things to go further. Everything about this moment pointed in the right direction - the teasing, the touching, you were all but whimpering in his lap, but he cut the moment short with a sharp slap against your ass before he helped you up. Henry acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened as he pulled your leggings back up, but this glare became colder when he found your eyes.

He bent down and spoke into your ear, "He could've done a better job"

Completely under his spell, you bit your lip and furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't think I would have been able to take any more"

"That's not what I said" Henry shook his head.

"Look at you being an expert" you teased, relishing in the fact that he seemed eager to keep things going. 

"All I'm saying is that if you had asked someone else-" Henry laughed, stroking your cheek, "Things would have turned out much more different"

"Oh" you pouted, ready to tease him further. "Who should I have asked-"

Just when you started getting comfortable and confident enough to push things further, Henry's phone rang. "I don't have to take that" he shook his head when he heard you stopped talking.

"Just see who it is" you giggled, slapping his shoulder.

Before doing so, Henry grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead, his touch drawing you in like a magnet as you leaned into him when he pulled away. With a sigh, you eventually crawled off his lap and then your face fell with disappointment when Henry showed you the screen of his phone. 

"Yeah?" he huffed after picking up, his boss being the last person he wished to talk to right now. 

You watched him closely as he listened to whatever the man was saying, and almost whined out loud when Henry frowned annoyed.

"I'll call you back in 5, ok?" he asked and after a couple of seconds hung up.

"I'm so sorry-" Henry sighed, turning to you, "I gotta go take this, there's a problem with one of the radars, I need to go see if I can fix it remotely"

"Sure thing" you shook your head. "But please tell me you don't have plans tonight"

"I don't" Henry leaned towards you and again, kissed your forehead. As much as you loved the sweet gesture, it was now more than ever that you craved something else entirely. 

"And please don't forget about me again" you giggled, grabbing his biceps and stopping him from leaving without a promise.

"I won't" he sighed, "I'm really sorry about that. I'll make it up to you"

"However I want?" you beamed and licked your lips.

"Absolutely" Henry smiled, sweetly embracing you before walking you to the door.

You had his word now, and you were planning on making it count. There was no way either you or Henry would act as if nothing had happened, and you couldn't wait.

Once alone and seated at his desk, Henry opened up the text editor associated with the code he wrote months ago. When his screen was flooded with errors and his chat popped up with three different messages asking for help from his colleagues, Henry all but yelled out loud in frustration. Not only did he wish to be with you, it was also Sunday, one of his days off. But he couldn't just text the pilot of the plane whose radar went berserk and tell him to wait. So he got to work, determined to get this done as soon as possible. 

But unfortunately, that 'as soon as possible' turned into 3 hours of continuous work. He didn't even stand up to go to the bathroom until he made sure everything was on point. It was about 4pm when the program started running smoothly again, and seeing how he had a few more hours to waste until he had to see you, Henry decided to make the best of them, by getting a head start on his tasks for the following day.

Productivity flowed through his fingertips as he solved the first issue he had been assigned for the day to come, getting ready to start working on the second one when a call caught his attention. He didn't recognize the ring tone, and it only dawned on him that he was still logged into your facebook account a couple of seconds after it stopped ringing. 

Still curious, Henry switched the tabs on his computer, noticing that the chat with Steve, which he left open hours ago, showed that there was an ongoing video call. His jaw fell. Henry tightened his hands into fists, fuming with anger. First as you for doing this, and then at himself for allowing you to believe this was an ok thing to do. He knew there was no way to eavesdrop on your conversation even if he had the password, but that didn't mean his curiosity died down. No, it only grew stronger.

He felt lost for a minute, but then he thought of something. On his dresser, right next to his winter gloves and under his favorite jogging hat, laid an extra set of keys. Henry remembered the day you gave them to him, saying something along the lines of 'I feel much safer knowing that if something were to happen, you could always get to me, Henry.' and then remembered how you stuffed them in his pocket, and kissed his chest before stepping back. Such different times. 

There was no trace of hesitation inside his mind as he grabbed the keys and made his way out of his home. He passed the hallway in less than a second and pressed his ear to the door. It was perfectly quiet, and through the peephole, he couldn't see any light. You weren't in the kitchen or living room, so he felt confident enough. After putting his phone on vibrate, Henry ever so gently pushed the key inside, turning it inside the lock with the most meticulous movement his wrist could muster. The sound of the door knob being turned was so faint he barely even heard it, but his pulse skyrocketed when he heard the click that signaled the door was finally open.

With small, careful steps, he made his way inside. The entire apartment was dark and quiet as he made his way in, stopping just outside your bedroom as the relaxed, deep voice of a stranger became audible through the wall. “Trust me, sweetheart. Just relax, I got you. You’re all tense, I can see it from here. You know I have more experience with this than you do, just do as I say”

With one hand on the doorknob of your bedroom, Henry was ready to put an end to this whole charade. He knew he might regret it later, but he didn't care. The image of a so called friend, pushing you to do anything that you seemed to have clearly stated your discomfort about, flipped a switch inside his brain. There was no stopping him because no one, no one got to push you around like that. Not while he could do anything about it.

[apparentlyaswarmofbees]

Deaf MC vs Devildom

.

A HUGE thanks to @jaywalk-on-me for reaching out to me about this subject. I really hope I have given this it some justice.

Also, to avoid some of the controversies inside the Deaf Culture: I will not be referencing cochlear implants.

And a note for my fellow hearing people, there is definetelly not much difference between us and deaf/hard of hearing people, in fact, after reading about it, I can hardly consider it a disability seeing it can actually allow them to percieve the world in a much different way from ours and would not have any problems in their life if only us, hearing peers, were cooperative and understanding. Everything we need to do is literally minor details and does not hinder our own lifes in the slightest, in fact, it can even help us too! An example is captioning, there is literally nothing to lose, and honestly, even I put captioning on movies of my mother lenguage because sometimes I just can't understand what is being said and captions really help me with that and enjoy whatever I am watching to the fullest! So let's be more understanding. We are all humans, and can all learn from each other's perspective.

And as always

Warning: Uncensored swearing lol, and reference to lesson 16

.

Lucifer

Ah, yes, he knew about it, was in your files, nailed it, he learned your local sign lenguage, all good.

Except his expressions are so damn stiff.

He signs a 'Welcome to The Devildom' and I kid you not, you will not be able to tell if he is trying to be welcomingly polite (and failing miserably) or threatening you.

It was definetelly both

He gets better at it-

Perks if you like classic music though, because you will be able to give him a whole different way of enjoying it.

He won't force you to speak if you choose not to, but he sure will never stop being delighted to hear your voice if you do.

It still baffles him how observant you are, may start trusting you to find details he missed on certain things.

.

Mammon

He definetelly forgot everything he learned on sign lenguage the moment he stepped out of the tutoring Lucifer made him and all his brothers, except for Levi and Satan, go through.

Yes he will mistake around 5 signs per day on the first week of your arrival in the Devildom.

And he will often forget that you most likelly cannot hear him (if his voice frequency doesn't match your hearing that is) and go off blabbing without signing and then just go "oi why ya ignoring me" and he definetelly is this close 👌to being wacked with the closest thing at range.

Again, he gets better too.

In fact, once he warms up to you (and that's like, real fucking fast) he will make so much effort to get things right, and he always pays attention to have captions in movie nights even without you asking??

He tries lip reading once when you told him it's not easy and, I will let it to your imagination what on hell he managed to lip read.

.

Leviathan

As mentioned above, he didn't need the tutoring. Why? Guess what, he already knew at least a few sign lenguages, all because of the many animes, games and shows he has watched portray it, even though the ammount of representation is small.(btw I recomend DARK, there is a deaf&mute character and oh boi she's awesome, it's on netflix)

So he definetelly had no problem communicating with you, in fact, he was almost relieved.

He doesn't need to speak verbally?? He basically would rather spoon his eyes out than talk on the phone so on drug levels texting instead is like heroin????

And oh lord you NEED to invite him to the music festivals on the human world catered towards deaf and hard of hearing people, be will LOVE it.

A little bit of downside though, some of his expression changes are very subtle, but as he spends more time with you, he will start incorporating character voices into expressions and body lenguage instead, and you bet he enjoys doing it.

He will definetelly make music just for you. You only hear high frequencies? Or maybe only low frequencies? Or just nothing at all but you enjoy the rythmic vibrations? He definetelly has spend an entire night making a full fucking album just for you.

.

Satan

Seriously, he knows so many sign lenguages it actually made his way of signing pretty unique!

Another fake ass who will give you gentlemany smiles at first. He may be a way lot more smoother than Lucifer but you bet his fake ass is not passing your vibe check, not with the way his eyes just feel a little bit not right.

Another one who gets better though.

It's kind of nice how he grows so used to signing while speaking that his hands often give off a sign or two even when he is speaking to hearing people.

He will definetelly roast quite a few half assed interpreters.

Also he may or may not have gotten a new obssession after you two watched a few silent movies together??

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Asmodeus

Oh boy this one needs to chill out a bit.

If you can't interpret signs when done too fast then good luck because his hands will literally be able to spell a full fucking paragraph in 20 seconds.

And oh how he explores your other senses.

Definetelly goes to you first to judge how he looks.

Also he is the best option to keep yourself informed?? I mean, it's also something he can relate with, it doesn't matter if someone killed somebody or just broke their nail, he needs to know about it.

He may be a bit disappointed if you don't speak but he gets over it quickly.

Will ruin many people's carreer if they so much as refuse to attent to you just because you're deaf. There's just nothing wrong with it??? Stop being so petty!

He is now your biggest distraction in mid class and you will definetelly end each day carrying at least 10 paper notes in which he will try to speak with you. They definetelly smell like whatever he smells like at the time. And are definetelly written in colored pen. With glitter. And there are hearts. And possibly a kiss mark-

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Beelzebub

Big boy definetelly has two types of sign lenguage he uses, and if literally depends if he is eating and what he is eating.

Normally he is just, normal lol. Since he is pretty much quite a bit of an amateur at it he will make use of speech filters a lot when he needs to remember certain signs.

If he's holding something big like a sandwich he will either just gulf it all in to have both hands free or try to make a simplified version with one hand. I'll admit the first scenario is quite amusing.

Yes some of the first questions he asks is how to spells certain foods.

And yes you bet you won't be able to know all of them because Devildom food is definetelly something.

Oh and get ready for a bit of chaos if anyone refuses your order because you're deaf.

Please tell him to flap his wings and proceed lay on him or hug him. The vibrations will be very much close to one of those massage chairs.

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Belphegor

Oh boy.

First off, he did NOT know about you being deaf because thanks Lucifer.

You guys definetelly spoke in a lot of exchanged notes under his attic door.

He keeps them all hidden somewhere but he will never admit it.

If you're willing to teach him at least how to say 'hi', 'good night' or things like that, he will appear to not be very interested but once the entire lesson 16 fiasco happens they're definetelly the only signs he knows about for some reason when he finally gets tutored.

Still texts you instead.

Even in the same room.

That's what you get from the avatar of sloth I guess-

He does sign a few remarks at you per example commenting on how the new hairstyle Asmo decided to make made his bangs look like a poop behind his back.

Also this:

(The picture above actually happened and was translated to english from my mother lenguage)

[jlf23tumble]

Another one for your reports, I went to see the film today and the part of the city where I live I've always thought that there would be plenty larries but I was surprised to see not many larries in the theatre and it was in fact filled with solos and directioners! Everybody was gushing over the Freddie scenes and taking pics of those scenes. I think there may have been a shift in his fandom

Anon 2: At the Boston showing of AOTv too, there was cheering at the Larry hug but also cooing when Freddie was on screen. I wondered how ppl would react but they seemed to have been just fine.

Anon 3: Mid America anon reporting for duty: the audience was a mix of ages but most were in their 20s and 30s. Surprising number of teens and their parents (I say surprising bc they must have been super young during 1D days). Most wearing Louis merch. At least one sweatshirt with H &L’s tattoos. Very quiet experience with a few laughs, especially at Oli. Can’t wait to hear your takeaways when you see it! They tried to cover A LOT of ground in 2 hours. But it was an enjoyable 2 hours, and there’s definitely several things that got me thinking. I’ll put those on my own blog though lol. Have a good night!!

Anon 4: 100% pandemic baby to this fandom via Harry and nope, don’t know/care about Louis bio dad status. Larry can absolutely still have been/be a thing regardless of how the child was conceived. However, I also don’t love ANY celebrity using their child for marketing/promo/PR which this feels like to me, especially coming from someone who doesn’t even live on the same continent as their kid. So yeah I will accept louis as a dad but I can’t say I respect his public parenting choices (yet! He can improve).

.........

Just gonna group because I am not one of those skrole doon blogs with endless walls of shite, but I love this!

Anon 1: I feel like it's miniscule shift, but I do feel like it's coming, the bigger blogs I check when I'm in lurk mode are huge holdouts, but I know they sniff the winds and shift accordingly, so we shall see!

Anon 2: Sounds like you saw some people who said we unconditionally support Louis, and they actually have zero conditions! #rare!

Anon 3: Ooooh, curious about your blog, feel free to DM me so I can lurk at my leisure! Love the love for #olithesevoices, have my own thoughts on the age demo breakdown

Anon 4: I feel like I can predict the other peeps in your following list, and to that I say we see less than 1% of Louis's life as a parent, and judging him for it based on that 1%, hard pass, not for me.