#I have been wanting to read it tho for ages it's called like pretty perfect

[crow-caller]

as someone who only recently found out what arfid is and realized i have it (and also hates meat because of it) hearing you talk about it in your tender is the flesh video meant a lot to me <3

nice!!! ARFID isn't very well known really. I got diagnosed with it a few years ago after many, many years of being bullied for being a 'picky eater' despite being physically unable to even eat other food. I'm always keen to talk about it because the relief of understanding ARFID vs picky eating is immense. like everything I want to do like an educational video on it or something one day just to raise awarenesss... there IS like one YA book about arfid, but it's bad and also will be mostly about ED so not like, the freshest hip book to cover on youtube

[rayshippouuchiha]

I’m the housewife kink anon, but I can’t find the fic!!! No one seems to have a downloaded copy on any of the usually haunts either. Pretty sure the author deleted their account which is a damn shame since they were one of my favs. Not rly surprised tho since they were getting some hate for the pairing when I read it a few yrs ago and I imagine it only got worse. So I’ve decided to outline everything that happened in detail!

So the plot was basically aged up Izuku and yandere Aizawa meet at a pre-raid meeting where some big time hero tries to discount Aizawa’s info and talk over him. But Izuku- Eraserhead has been my obsession since I watched his first sport festival-Midoriya shut that down quick with what was essentially an in depth analysis of how Erasehead is a perfect hero, especially compared to the hero that talked shit.

So yandere Aizawa was obviously like mine and started stalking Izuku who could immediately tell (I think he went abroad to train with All Might after Inko died and then helped dismantle AFO’s base of power internationally thus discovering he was still alive and Izuku ended up killing him w/ All Might) but was honestly just rly turned on by it so allowed it.

At the raid, they ended up in the same section and had impeccable team work the whole time which made both of their internal monologues sound like smug cats. They worked so well together that they kept getting paired up on other raids (all human trafficking rings connected with AFO I think) and eventually Izuku got hurt but wouldn’t tell the medics cuz discrimination trauma and paranoia so Aizawa drags him home to give him stitches.

This is where the domestic fluff and house wife kink kicks in bc Izuku cleans+ bakes+ cooks when he’s bored (which he was since he had to wait for the stitches to heal before he went off to do hero work). So Aizawa, coming back from UA to all this plus Izuku splayed out on the couch like a whole snack smiling up at him saying welcome home, goes fucking feral in his head. And it kinda becomes routine for them and there’s was this one scene where Aizawa wraps his arms around Izuku’s waist as he does dishes and puts his chin on Izuku’s shoulder and strokes over the stitches. I think he was humming a love song Izuku was listening to which was jdjejebdbhsjs.

At this point they both want to jump each other but Izuku is like he’s just being nice to me while Aizawa is like if I allow myself to show how much I want to put a collar on him he’d run so I must be careful. But after the stitches heal Izuku just doesn’t leave bc whenever he half heartedly tries to go back to his apartment something happens where he had to stay (all orchestrated by Aizawa of course). Then Izuku’s like fuck it and just brings all his stuff to Aizawa’s apartment while he’s gone and starts paying half the rent without saying anything. Which Aizawa adores since it obviously means Izuku finally realized that he belongs with him and nowhere else. Let’s just say they didn’t manage to stay off each other for long when Aizawa absently used his scarf to pull Izuku out of his way and called him a good boy.

There was also a concerned all might crew going on at first with a lot of wild misconceptions but it all settled over when All Might met Aizawa in person and was like ah young midoriya, I see you have found one that might be able to handle you. Cuz all might is Izuku’s mentor/hero/father figure, and knew exactly what his successor was about. And this feral looking man he managed to find checks all the boxes Izuku- I destroyed AFO more completely in few years than anyone else managed to do in centuries- Midoriya has.

oh oh god this sounds perfect in every way

Author is you somehow see this then by all the gods please repost because this is magnificent

[sadlybeans]

Jonathan Kent headcanons✨

to be fair some of these are for all kryptonians but i wanted to talk about him exclusively because i love him

He has a lot of behaviours/habits that do look weird, which is strange on itself because he’s been raised as a human and his dad was raised as a human, it just seems to come naturally.

Despite not acting completely human, he can read social cues and facial expressions really well even without his super senses.

The glasses: why are they a good disguise? My personal opinion is that kryptonian eyes look completely alien and unique. Not only do they have a colour that’s too intense to be real, their pupils are not black- they’re a lighter tone than their irises. So like, the glasses drive attention away and probably have some sort of film that helps conceal them.

He can’t tan much. As a kid he was pale as a ghost but as he grew up he could get a bit more melanin, tho never too much. Which is funny bc I think Clark does have a good tan.

Something about how kryptonians look makes you feel unsettled after you look at them long enough, and if you stare for quite a bit you’ll inevitably think of the uncanny valley effect. They look human enough to be very convincing, but they’re too perfect and flawless.

Jon’s half ‘n half but he still looks more kryptonian than human, he’s a mini Clark after all.

If you asked me to design him all grown up I would actually make him shorter- mostly bc I think it’d be hilarious for ppl to underestimate him. Imagine how many idiots would overlook this pretty boy only to be hit in the face with the fact he’s kryptonian. Lots of wasted comedy right there.

He has no fashion sense. I’m sorry but it’s true and you know it.

His childhood hero crush was definitely Nightwing.

Growing up is realising his (Nightwing’s) little brother’s much cuter.

He’s indeed a ray of sunshine, but he’s also a sarcastic and problematic little shit as product of hanging around the Wayne kids far too much.

I’ve probably mentioned this in one of my previous posts but he has a room of his own in Wayne manor ever since he started being bffs with Damian. he prefers to sleep with Damian now but it’s still there.

He’s probably the only person brave enough to call Bruce uncle when he was a kid.

He’s diagnosed with ADHD but it’s actually just his half alien brain working differently/faster than a human’s, which makes it harder to focus since humans do things too slow in comparison.

Once he decides he’s your friend you’re never getting rid of him.

the age up never happened it’s true i’m actually DC

[paiteyy]

Stampede and Maximum Spoilers!

Look this is kinda a negative (not totally but I wanna be polite and warn! ) look at Stampede and it's handling of the queer content in the source marital, if ur not in the mood for that, block me or scroll past plz 👌don't wanna be a downer for anyone so ye, thought I'd slap this uptop lol

Gonna be real, idk how I feel abt the last ep... Some of my fears are definitely coming true. The big one being that Wolfwood's role in the manga seems to be played by Meryl in Stampede.

The manga is so important to me because it lacks the typical anime/manga hetrosexual tropes.

They put these tropes back in when they made the 98 anime, and it feels like they're putting them back into Stampede.

Wolfwood is the one who saves Vash in the manga, he is Vash's reason to fight. I know Stampede is pretty much an AU of the manga, but they're hitting the major plot points in their own unique way. Not everything is in order, and it's different, which I don't mind.

What I do mind is the fact that they've cut out all the queer parts of Maximum.

From changing Elendira, the cannon trans woman (who wasn't perfect rep, but goddamn it a cannon transwoman who wasnt a joke at that time?! I fucking love her), to a lab grown loli (before you come at me, I know this is a prequel and that she'll age, but that's not the point, because it doesn't negate the fact that she is no longer trans. They could have updated her rep from the manga, but no.) To subbing in Meryl for Wolfwood in narrative moments he occupied in the manga, like saving Vash from Knives.

Narrative moments that would have been occupied by a female love interest in most manga were occupied by Wolfwood in TriMax, and intentional or not, TriMax is queer coded as shit. By switching him with Meryl in Stampede, that is gone.

This is what happens in the manga, in the Stampede Vash is saved by, and saves, Meryl instead. (Also black coat Vash is a reference to Vash from this fight in Maximum. It is the result of him fighting Legato and killing him to preserve Wolfwood's memory, ((he is taking on Wolfwood's color pallet in this fight, the layers in Maximum are insane)):

This isn't a ship post, not really, it's about stripping the queer aspects from TriMax, which are an integral part of TriMax's narrative, a major part what makes the work unique, especially for it's time, and straight-washing it in Stampede (which is taking a lot from Trimax... just not the queer stuff, hum). However, I'll entertain some ship talk.

People have been calling Vashwood the "yaoi flavor of the season" and in all honesty, to me, that's what Stampede Vashwood feels like. I KNOW it's the first season and this could change, but damn it, I feel like I'm allowed to be a little frustrated and worried about the direction they're going.

Vashwood in the manga is a queer relationship supported by COUNTLESS examples in the text, read as romantic or not,(personally, I think it should be read as romantic based on manga framing ((Wolfwood playing the role narratively reserved for the female love interest in most manga)) and textually (("I wanted to spend my tomorrows with him," just one of many examples of Vash's feeling about Wolfwood)) it is undeniable that they are integral to each other in a bone deep way. To the point where the only person as, or more, important as Wolfwood to Vash is Rem, his mother and guiding light.

This is absent in Stampede.

I'm trying not to be uncharitable, but I have a sinking suspicion that Meryl is going to be the one to find Vash after the timeskip, a role given to Wolfwood in TriMax. I wanna be proven wrong tho!

I DO like how Meryl and Wolfwood are getting more interactions in Stampede! They didn't get many in the manga and I love their dynamic. Honestly him grabbing her like a sack of potatoes and booking it outta there was the best part for me lol, I'm glad Milly is coming back too! Vash getting his spikes back also was rad af!!

I feel like I should also say, this isn't a ship hate post or anything. This isn't a Meryl hate post either, I don't kin characters myself but she's as close as they come for me, so I love the little lady. Plus, I've really been enjoying her Stampede design and character development, it's one of the best parts of the show imo!!

It's just the fact that the queer content from the original didn't make it in, while so many other things from TriMax did, that rubs me the wrong way.

I think I'm mostly just frustrated, I'm enjoying Stampede for what it is, but I'm a queer woman, and I can't help but feel cheated out of the faithful Maximum adaptation I've always dreamed of. How come every other manga gets a one for one adaptation, but Maximum, with all it's queer text, doesn't?! I'm frustrated. They always try to make Trigun more appealing, mass marketable, but damnit that's not why I love it. Idk, I just feel sad. With this new adaptation, idk if I'll ever see a faithful Maximum adaptation, which is a depressing thought for me.

Anyway, this became a vent post, sorry. I'm a longtime TriMax shill and I was really (and to be fair, still am to a degree) enjoying Stampede up until these last few eps. In some ways it feels like I'm watching watered down, more marketable Maximum and that just frustrates me.

I'm still holding out hope for season 2 though, I can't help it, even with the things I'm not personally into in Stampedes it's still Trigun, and if I'm not going to bat for Trigun, am I even me?

[ryuto12]

RWBY Headcanon's Maybe Part Thirteen?

I'm still not sure what part it is, but here we go. Literacy headcanon's cause I've seen like five of those so here are my thoughts.

Also no hate for any of these, I have really messy handwriting and despite being forced to learn cursive in elementary have a lot of difficulty with it and it makes my writing almost unreadable.

All of RWBY can read but Ruby is dyslexic. Weiss writes in perfect cursive, Yang and Ruby's is average for kids their age, and Blake has that nine-year-old messy handwriting, but Blake is the only one to know sign language.

JP can read and write fine. NR? Not so much. Ren's handwriting is super messy, and Nora struggles with reading.

Oscar writes super fast so it looks messy, but if he slows down you'd think he was addressing a letter to a king.

CVY are all fine with reading and writing. Fox learned some brail while at Beacon so he'd figure out the correct restroom. Not a lot of learning in Vacuo tho, so he knows only the bare minimum.

Tai was taught to read and write at school, Raven taught herself as a kid, Summer faked her way through Beacon unable to write with minimal reading, and Qrow forced himself to learn after the Teams split so he could go on his own missions. They're all dyslexic.

Ivori is the only member of FNKI who can do cursive. Neon and Kobalt can't read or write but Ivori's a good teacher. Flynt is alright.

May learned to write in super neat cursive but spites her family with messy four-year-old handwriting. Fiona learned as a kid in the mines, but Joanna and Robyn had to get a crash course at the Academy.

Sun can't read or write, but SSN is helping him learn, which he thinks is entirely unessecary for his career choice, but he knows Blake loves to read so it's all for the pretty lady.

Neo can't drop the old habit of writing in beautiful cursive. Roman learned to read from Neo.

Emerald learned to read when she was little before she ended up on the streets and still loves to read. Despises cursive, can't do it.

Mercury was forced by his dad to be ambidextrous with his writing so he'd more "unpredictable", but he couldn't learn much with his dad smacking him over the head and calling him an idiot despite never actually teaching him the letters. To spite the bastard he has Em teach him in return for hand-to-hand lessons after their V6 argument.

Rhodes couldn't read so teaching Cinder was out of the question. Salem taught the young Cinder in a surprisingly quick and efficient way, with a kindness you shouldn't think an immortal witch conquering the world would be capable of.

Watts' cursive could replace the dictionary definition of neat.

Tyrian can't read, but if you ask him how to spell something he pops off with perfect spelling. Physically can't write with how many times he's broken his fingers.

Hazel the kinda guy to start his morning with a cup of warm coffee and a newspaper. Excellent reader, amazing cursive.

Salem has practiced her writing for thousands of years, it's beyond perfect. Knows so many languages, and secretly has been collecting literature for a few hundred years.

Adam didn't like reading, and quite honestly saw it as a waste of time. Couldn't read or write.

Ilia learned cause she wanted to connect better with Blake.

Ozma has the same collection hidden away somewhere, and just as elegant handwriting as Salem.

Goodwitch writes like she's sending a letter to her grandmother, with perfect grammar in the most amazing cursive.

Winter, the highly dyslexic child who didn't get diagnosed until she joined the military. Struggles with spelling, but was forced to seem perfect as a kid, a habit that stays with her even now. Only Penny knows the truth, and it dies with her.

Whitley can write in perfect cursive, he prefers the writing of elegantly turning every letter into a perfectly drawn dick to piss his dad off.

Penny can hypothetically write perfect cursive, but she gets really excited while writing and it ends up so messy. Re-written multiple times before being sent.

Alright this is enough for now, my wrists are starting to hurt. Carpal tunnel go brrrrrrrrr.

[curry-and-gunpowder]

Odasaku!!

2,3,9, and 12 please ☺️

But of course!

2. Favorite canon thing about the character

Hmm not so much a trait, but I simply adore his first person narration in Dark Era and TDIPUD. His inner voice is just so damn fascinating, the way it contrasts with his outward demeanor. It really feels like he was born to be a writer.

I recently read a part of Flawless by Oda-sensei and i feel like Asagiri really managed to put his finger perfectly on Odasaku's voice - they're not the same of course, but do read as related to me, like I can hear echos of Oda-sensei's voice in Odasaku's thoughts.

...come to think of it, that's really more of a compliment to Asagiri lol. Sooo other from that I'm gonna sayyyy his ahoges. They are perfect.

3. Least favorite canon thing about the character

The fact that he died.

All jokes aside, if i had to pick something that frustrates me about him, tho idk if i would call it dislike necessarily, it would be his inability to say the things he wants to to the people he cares about until it's too late. And, the reason for that, his low self esteem issues. I just wanna shake him and drill into his head that his life matters and that people love him.

9. Could you be roommates with them

Obviously, since we're married I think I would get along with Odasaku perfectly fine, so being roommates for a while would definitely be possible. We'd both be the kind of people who would just do our thing and interact with each other on occasion. Plus I love curry almost as much as him, so I'd be keeping him fed for sure lol.

Long term tho I just don't like sharing living space with anyone so after a while I think we'd go our separate ways.

12. A headcanon about them

Dunno if it counts as a headcanon per se, but I'm pretty proud of the childhopd backstory I came up with for him in my fic We've Come from Ugliness. I won't divulge all of it because spoilers, buy I think he must have been raised into the assassin business by someone, who then ended up abandoning him (or dying) at still quite a young age.

Thank you for the asks!

[spongebobafettywap]

you know after all the retconing and rewriting they've done to established characters these past 4 years that often contradicts all we knew about them and renders their motivation absolutely irrational, i ain't surprised that they'd pull something like that for nightcrawler which fucks up slightly less than 30 years (mystique reveal) and 20 years (azazel reveal) of his publishing history

what i don't get is

if the problem is azazel's character in nightcrawler's backstory (from the draco storyline),

why choose to entirely alter fundamental things about nightcrawler's life which makes some of his biggest heroic decisions overall pointless (giving up his place in heaven to keep azazel out of it since he was his anchor there + use his blood ties to him to clock him on earth) and make things more complicated and questionable about his origins by 1) giving an entirely new setting to nightcrawler's origins (cuz why the hell germany now, why the baron ...) 2) having mystique totally change roles, motivations and actions throughout the origins which goes against everything we've seen so far in main continuity and the alternative realities and 3) removing azazel completely

instead of improving on azazel's character?

there's so many blank spots in his backstory that could be filled, like a millennia worth of filling

we also don't have his pov on stuff... at all and a pov can give so much insight on someone's thought process especially villains

or hell you could reveal the draco was entirely from his pov and he preferred simplifying and seeing things this way rather than what actually happened (something people do)

it's not about making his actions redeemable here tho, it's about putting some dimension to a dimensional hopper's character and their actions

people complain about wanting to follow the "original plan" and doing anything with azazel now would lead to a lack of consistency, when what they call original plan wasn't that at all and consistency stopped mattering in marvel a long time ago with krakoa being its biggest offender

they literally retconned azazel into being a demon after austen's run ended and now went back to calling him a mutant like he originally was as if nothing happened

if i had to pick a poison, it would be that

This will be the last Marvel related question I answer for a while because I don't think the attitude of Marvel and writing of it's characters in such a pessimistic purely for shock value way is good for me to think about mentally. I am also going to make this a broader point about the Marvel/DC method of writing and rewriting and how it causes a stagnation effect.

I am not too sure really why people seem to think instead of trying to make a story work we have to go back and pretend none of the story happened, what is the point? Why should we read stories that go back and decide they didn't happen?

I guess when the goal is to have a series of characters who never age or progress beyond a year at best then you run out of new stories to tell. You have to keep going back and writing things over and over again because there is a certain point you cannot cross. But really I just feel like a story that has no ending is a pretty pointless one to read when it comes to a action adventure series.

I think in the late 20th century of Marvel you saw more of an effort to try and progress the story onwards and that whilst not always perfect at least resulted in it being a overall beloved part of Marvel. But I can't really think of anyone saying anything recently done by Marvel would ever have that same impact on them?

It seems oversaturation of comic books for the big 2 led to stagnation and retcon abominations over and over again. Maybe it would have been better for Marvel if they concluded 616 and moved onto a new universe, at least with DC the reality is always changing itself so that has a minute excuse of how the inconsistencies can work there.

Also anon I do think your idea for making the Draco be from Azazel's pov would explain a lot rather than the way they keep changing his character origins on a whim. But I don't know I don't really have faith in Marvel after what they did with Magneto and the Maximoff twins. I think Marvel is just going to be endlessly rewriting characters origin stories without there being an excuse like realities being reset in DC. They have a main timeline but with all they do it might as well not be 1 timeline.

And you are right that it makes the Amazing X-Men stories not have that sacrifice anymore which is a shame because that series at the start really felt like a return to form but I feel like Kyle and Yost kinda ruined it by focusing on Wolverine. (because we are all so starved for stories about him lol)

[speakyskelly-1999]

okay so

kill la kill

i watched kill la kill when i was 15 and i loved

i rated it a 9 on mal

it was the show that got be back into anime

(i initially watch one good show and then quite a few mid ones and so stopped watching for a while and then when this came to netflix i watched it and afterwards cowboy bebop and well the rest is history)

becvause i liked it so much and because it had a good reputation, my friend who was getting into anime tried it

and she hated it

it's so far the only anime she dropped

she subsiquently asked me why i liked it so much and then told me to watch it again now and erm

yea it's not aged well

as a side track

i like to say i have a good memory and i do. most media i can recall pretty easily. the main factor on recal being how long it's been since i watched something, and even then if i start rewatching a thing i can often remeber how the rest of it will pan out after watching a small percentage of it

with that in mind i did only watch the first episode and scan through the rest of the series so this "rewatch review" (honestly i can't even really call it that, let me know if you think i should re watch it properly and give my full thoughts on it) is gonna be far from perfect but like enough for what i'm going for

oh and spoilers from this point on

so for my previous memory of the show i love mako, ryuuko, and satsuki and on looking at it again i remembered how much i liked ira. i think all thoes characters fun and i still like them. i don't think i really have any issues with them. the music girl and the tech guy are two characters in my mind that i remeber liking somewhat but finding issues with them but i don't remember what. the other thing i really like from it was the dumb plot twist of clothes are an alien race trying to ensalve humanity by (and i think this is right i could be wrong. reading has always been difficult for me and, while i've improved over the years, i can still miss a lot of plot stuff when they suddenly dump it on me in anime. note of i watch mainly subs which is why i struggle. i tend to not like dubs) getting people to ware clothes. i also really liked how vibrent the show was and again on scanning through it again i remembered the really cool stills and artistic choices they made.

and i think thats were the positive part of this "retrospective" ends

erm yea so i think even as a kid i was initially weirded out by how little ryuuko wore but when they explained 'oh more the skin you show the stronger you are' i just accepted it and hell i was 15 and most of the characters were 15 i just let it wash over me. NOW THO man it makes me feel really uncomfy. and like i'm somewhat desensities to this stuff cos, lets be real here folks, anime can have quite a bit of that kind of stuff. either depending on when it came out or it's genre, writers, intended audience etc. but like ryuuko is initially really uncomfortable showing this much skin. and like i know she comes to accept it, and as a teen i just accpeted that she was fine with it, but Now i'm like she should never have had to accept that, she's FITHTEEN.

AND IT REALLY DOESN'T HELP THAT SENKETSU IS TOO INTO IT. like i get that he's trying to make her stronger and he wants to eat her blood or whatever. but like it's so weird. i think as a kid i just chose to ignore it/became desencitised to it/could read it properly but i did also not like him. so much so that i forgot he could fucking talk, hell was even sentient, till i rewatch the first episode. like if senketsu was a woman it would have been better. NOT BY MUCH, but idk it feel a little more bearable to me now if i was gonna rewatch it.

i don't even really want to mention ryuuko and satsuki's mother. can i just not think about it. she was disguysting to me as a kid and i hated her and what she did to not only ryuuko, satsuki, her husnabd and the pink girl (what the fucks her name nui) has always started with me (even if the exact details of what she did from my memory vary from charcter to character) and i'm glad she died. i'm not gonna go into wwhat she did and the order of characters is not in an order of which thing is he to them i find most ogreegous. i just. imma move on i can't deal with that bitch

what else... oh yea i forgot how pervy mako's dad brother and dog is towards ryuuko. that sucks.

there are other reasons that it now just kinda makes me uncomfortabnle. again i might rewatch it to get my full thoughts on it but like idk if i should. let me know if you think i should comit to the bit

but like so now

now i don't know what to do. it's had been one of my favoruites fro ages and it was like the first one i put on my mal favorites list. i had to take it of cos like it can no longer hold that placxe in my heart now cos it makes me feel icky. it sucks re watching a show and thinking it's not that bad, my was a little weird in places but shows from then were like that, and then finding out it's so much worse than you remember.

whats really bezarre is that i don't know if i can recomend itanymore. like the my friend who watched and dropped it can handle like wierd scenes, some nudity, darker topcis, the works. i can handle a little less than them but still a lot (liike i watched the worse parts of elfen leid before stopping and that was beceuase it was doing all these things with nothing to say about it. it was just to be edgey) but this just both of us just feel so aaaaah now

i think watching it at 15 and having thoes 5 years of really likeing it was fine. like i think 15 is probaly the only age i could have watched it at for me to enjoy it as much as i did. i'll still hold ryuuko, mako ans satsuki in my heart as i really liked their charcters (hell ages ago i considered getting ryuuko and satsuki's figures in their normal school uniforms, or the ones in the last end credit scene when everything is hunky dory again. NOT and i repeat NOT their fighting outfits) but ultimatly the shows not aged well and even for the time they should have made from different creative choices

[that-sweet-jester]

Just a bunch of bad guys

A little background below ⬇⬇⬇

HA I TRICKED YOU, it's not little, it's a lot!

Alright, this was just supposed to be an attempt at character design of my own after I read bunch of Superhero AUs, but I got carried away and created some lore :')

-WILBUR-

Full Name: Both him and Techno had been adopted by Philza at young age and took up his last name, but wanted to keep something of their own. Hence, both have their nicknames "Soot" and "Blade" (not last names, they don't know what they were).

Alias: I wanted to base all names of the Syndicate on Greek mythology, however I had hard time finding something for Wilbur. I came close to calling him Apollo, but most of the things attributed to this god, aside being the patron of music, just didn't align with what I had in mind for him. Thus, ta da, "very original" Siren. Even tho, it's not really a name name - "lured sailors to their death with a bewitching song" just fits too well.

Powers: Hypnotic voice was an obvious choice, but I wanted all of them to have two main abilities. Thus, after long search I stumbled upon enhanced hearing, and hear me out. Wilbur wears mask over his eyes (he can see through it) but it gives the illusion that one of his senses is gone, and what they say when one sense is taken away? Another one amplifies >:D And I just think that someone whose powers are based on sound would be more sensitive to it. It's not like he has super hearing for miles away, he can just hear well what someone is whispering like few meters away form him :p

OK THAT'S IT. I think that's the most I've ever written on this site. To anyone who've read the whole thing: ily <333 thank for reading my rambling and sorry for any grammatical errors, English is not my first language and I was too lazy to do a spell check.

-TECHNO-

Full name: Explained before. I'm sorry, but I just can't separate those names from them, there is no Techno without Blade.

Alias: Now I spent a lot of time on this one, bc I just couldn't settle on anything. First I thought about Ares, for being the patron of blood lust and warfare, but just, it didn't work that much for me, I just think there should be more meaning behind the name. Then I searched more, I stumbled on Polemos and some other I can't remember and finally settled on Perses.

PERSES was the Titan god of destruction. He was the father of Hekate, goddess of witchcraft, by the Titanis Asteria ("Starry One"). Perses' name means "the Destroyer" or "the Ravager" from the Greek words persô and perthô. Hesiod inexplicably describes him as "preeminent among all men in wisdom"

And I just think this one's perfect. God of destruction? nice. "The Ravager"? Techno loved mc ravagers and I just can't pass this coincidence. "Preeminent among all men in wisdom"? Man's crazy smart, also as I'll explain more in a moment, Techno knows things he shouldn't really know, and he's almost always ahead of everyone, so, check. Also, my fav goddess aside form Persephone is Hecate so, additional point.

Powers: Enhanced durability is pretty explanatory. Mans could be thrown through a building and only his hair would get messy, maybe a bruise here and there and a lot of complaining, but that's it. You need someone equally powerful to bring him down. NOW, hyper awarness, man oh man, so I NEEDED to include the voices somehow. And I never saw them as something negative in his case. Of course, during combat, they start to demand bloodshed and make him sometimes loose control or result in sensory overload. BUT most of all, thanks to them he knows things - names of people or locations he never seen before, where the punch is coming at him from, answers to weird questions, who stole his food, and why is it always Wilbur, etc etc. So, yeah I thought that writing it down as hyper awarness, might work.

Additional info: His eyes are always red, but his sclera changes color to black when he's out on a mission or fighting, basically when the voices become louder the eyes become more intense in color. As civilian he wears red glasses most of the time to somehow mask the real color.

-PHILZA-

Full Name: You have no idea how much I wanted to write him down as Philza Mine Craft.

Alias: So, I also struggled to find a name for him. I was battling between Thanatos or simply calling him The Angel of Death. But then I was struck and everything became clear. I love fanfics where Phil was a hero before he saw how bad the system is and decides to become the "bad guy" who's actually kinda good, but does bad things sometimes. So, why not use it. In my version, before he became a villain, he was known as Angel, the Hero Committee wasn't as fully developed, so the heros still could stay anonymous, that's why even now they don't know his real identity. After he left he decided to take up new alias and therefore Thanatos was born. Person with black wings associated with Death, also now has a scythe??? Fits perfectly. And that's how people from calling him Angel started calling him The Angel of Death.

Powers: He has the ability to hide his wings and manifest them whenever he wants. I thought about making them just permanent, but I think it's just cooler when suddenly you see a character spring out a pair of big wings out of their back out of nowhere for the shock effect. (no i wasn't just too lazy to draw them, what are you talking about)

Avian telephaty - I also just couldn't not include the Chat. Wherever you see a cloud of crows you know the Angel of Death is nearby. He can communicate with any bird that is a raven, crow or rook. They're his eyes and ears.

Now, I can't leave without giving some credit to the writers that inspired me:

The Oath of Hippocrates by Melatonin_High

tommyinnit's clinic for supervillains by bonesandthebees (bonesandcacti)

Welcome Home Theseus by SoulfirePhoenix

All of them are on Ao3 and are super cool, so give them a read <3

Also, I'm planning on drawing Vigilante Benchtrio but we'll see how much that'll take me xd

[cuttergauthier]

can you do a jack hughes one maybe him dating the reader who’s a Jenner who’s like lukes age? Instagram edit tho

(these photos do not belong to me, this is all fanfiction)

y/njenner

Liked by Kendalljenner, Jackhughes and others

y/njenner what to do on a Friday night in New York when you’re only 19? 

view all comments

Kendalljenner Pretty sister😍

→y/njenner love you ken❤️

KylieJenner Still not okay with the fact you moved to New York, Stormi and i miss you❤️

→ y/njenner i miss you and baby stormi🥺❤️

Khloekardashian thought you had a boyfriend?

→y/njenner shh we don’t want the world to go crazy🤫

→Kimkardashian yeah, when are we going to meet him?

→Kourtneykardashian we need to make sure he’s perfect for our baby sister!

JackHughes you could always go to our hockey game tonight?

→ y/njenner only if you score me a goal😘

→Lhughes_06 OMG dude she replied😱

→Tysmith_6 luke, if only you knew...

→_Quinnhughes what does that mean?

Njdevils we would love to have you at the game❤️

→ y/njenner I might just go😜

Brendan.brisson why do i feel like there’s something going on here🤔

Gigihadid i’m still mad i wasn’t able to turn you into a rangers fan🙄

→ y/njenner sorry babe😘

→ Trevorzegras wait does this mean she’s a devils fan?😳

→_Alexturcotte I’m jealous of jack right now...

Y/njenner

liked by Jackhughes, Njdevils and others

Y/njenner can i just say Number 86 is pretty hot😍😉

tagged Jackhughes, Njdevils

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jackhughes I could say the same thing about you😍

→y/njenner 😘

→_Quinnhughes OMG WHAT 😳 

→Lhughes_06 wait i thought she had a boyfriend... Tysmith_6 WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???

→Tysmith_6 i don’t know what you’re talking about...

Brendan.brisson I KNEW SOMETHING WAS GOING ON!!!

Khloekardashian is number 86 the boyfriend? 

→ Kendalljenner well she did say he played hockey...

→Trevorzegras OMG JACK IS DATING Y/N JENNER😳

Tysmith_6 it was good seeing you again y/n

→ Y/njenner you too Ty!

_Alexturcotte atta boy Jack!!

Subbanator lil jizy is in love!

ColeCaufield how did jack pull this off?

→ jackhughes 🤷🏻

Jackhughes

liked by Y/njenner, Tysmith_6 and others

Jackhughes Looks like the secrets out, happy 6 months babe, love you❤️

tagged Y/njenner

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Y/njenner Love you jacky❤️

Lhughes_06 I’M SORRY WHAT?

→Jackhughes were dating luke!

→ lhughes_06 No really? dude i know but the hell did you end up with some like her?

→ Colecaufield yeah, i mean you’re kinda ugly jack...

→ Jackhughes at leat i’m not short!

→ Trevorzegras HAHAH he got you there man!

_Quinnhughes SIX MONTHS???

→ Jackhughes oups...

→_Quinnhughes a phone call would have been nice dude!

elblue6 so this is the girl you told me about, she’s beautiful hockey

→ y/njenner Thank you Mrs. Hughes, he told me so much about you, and i can’t wait to meet you!

→ Elblue6 Jack i love her already, you better keep this girl!

→Jackhughes i don’t plan on letting her go mom!

Tysmith_6 i love you both, but i hate third wheeling !

kyliejenner you better not hurt my sister!

→ Jackhughes not planning on it, i love her!!

→ _Alexturcotte awee he loves her🥺 AND OMG KYLIE JENNER COMMENTED ON YOUR PHOTO!!

→Subbanator she is y/n sister...

Subbanator Congrats man!

Bradytkachuck how the hell did i miss this?

→ Joshnorris10 did you not read the caption... idiot🤦🏻

hope you like it<3

[whats-her-quirk]

Regulars

erwin smith x reader 18+ warnings: explicit content, big hand kink vibes, praise, fingering, oral, face riding (because it’s erwin and I have no self control), overstim, squirting (it’s as close as I could get to pizz for you), a touch of cum eating, creampie, some age kink, & authority kink for good measure wc: 13k (I’m so fucking sorry) a/n: Words cannot contain the joy I felt when I learned that @present-mel​ was my elf for our server’s secret santa. I knew I had to write you some aot goodness, and because I wanted this to be all indulgence with no angst involved, I went straight for the commander and a good old-fashioned coffeeshop AU. Mel, you know that I adore you. Get comfy because this is a long one.

With a soapy rag draped over your hand, you wash off the tables in the coffeeshop just like you did the day before. You clean mugs and teacups, pour cups of black coffee and whip up iced mochas, take money and give change, all just like yesterday and the yesterday before that. Even as the morning rush is about to really start, today will be more of the same.

You’ve been working at Scout Coffee for close to four years since you graduated from the university a few miles away. Unfortunately, choosing a major had been a struggle for you, and your Bachelor of Science hadn’t led to any promising job prospects that didn’t come with huge drawbacks—shitty hours, shitty pay, shitty bosses, the lot. So instead of sitting in a call center or manning the front desk of some office building all day, you landed at the coffeeshop, which turned out to be a pretty decent place to land.

You like being a barista; you really do. You enjoy learning to make different coffees and breakfast sandwiches (your friends are very impressed with the way you froth milk for them, even at home). You enjoy the hip atmosphere of Scout, with its mismatched tables and walls covered in vintage posters. You love picking the music that pumps quietly through the speakers just above the counter. And you even enjoy making conversation with customers, many of which are regulars you know by name at this point. You feel comfortable here, and you’ve become close with many of your coworkers.

Still, you’re getting a little bored, a little restless. You’re perfectly happy, but the monotony of spending 40-plus hours per week within the same four walls is starting to get old. Your life is a cycle of work, reading, video games, and sleep. You meet up with your friends weekly for DND, but lately, you haven’t felt up to much more socializing than that. Between your bills and student loans, you can’t afford the vacation you desperately need, so instead, you lean your elbows on top of the dessert case and sigh, wishing something interesting would happen—something to shake things up a little bit.

The bell above the door jingles, and you don’t even look up, lost in your daydream of two weeks off and a trip to anywhere. It isn’t until Petra, who’s opening with you this Monday morning, nudges you with her elbow that you lift your eyes from the platters of scones and cookies under you.

“Ook-lay what just walked in-way,” she says in pig latin instead of just whispering like a normal person. You elbow her back for being so obvious as you lift your chin from the glass, but your mouth pops open when you catch sight of the man approaching the counter—a drop-dead gorgeous man.

He’s at least six feet tall, broad-shouldered and fair-skinned. He’s dressed in an expensive-looking blue suit with a tie, and his blonde undercut is styled flawlessly. His face is so perfect you barely even register what he looks like; you just know he’s too pretty to look directly in the eye. As he steps up to the register to put in his order, your feet feel like they’re superglued to the floor. Petra takes his order for a Colombian dark roast coffee you currently have available. He pays with a black credit card, which she swipes through the terminal while you stare. He adds a 20% tip on the touchpad even though he only ordered a single coffee.

Not only is this guy incredibly handsome in a way you can’t quite put your finger on, but more importantly, you’ve never seen him before. You start to wonder whether you manifested him by pure thought as Petra hands him his receipt and assures him that his drink will be out in just a few minutes.

He takes a seat at an empty table by the window as Petra grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you back into consciousness. “Hurry up and pour his drink. We can’t keep a guy that hot waiting!”

You force yourself to blink before fumbling for a coffee mug and pouring him a steaming cup of the dark roast from the coffee urn. Your hands shake dangerously, clinking the saucer under the mug embarrassingly as you deliver it to his table. He looks up, smiling closed lipped yet warmly when you set it in front of him. His eyes are so blue, they practically sparkle in the sunlight from the window. Sparkle.

As he looks at you expectantly, you manage to choke out, “Uh, s-sugar and honey and stuff are over there.” You point toward the little side counter where you keep the sweeteners and napkins.

The man lifts the mug toward his mouth by the handle. “Thank you.” He blows at the steam wafting off the hot coffee, his eyes flicking down into the mug, platinum eyelashes fluttering slightly. He takes an experimental sip, testing the flavor, before pushing back his chair and getting up. “I think I’ll take you up on that sugar and honey.”

You nod and swallow what feels like a ball of tin foil caught in your throat. He grins at you before carefully taking his mug over to the sweeteners. As soon as his back is turned, you rush back behind the counter. Petra is waiting for you with a huge smile on her face. You mouth to her, “Oh my god.”

“I know,” she gushes because she does know exactly what you’re thinking. “Holy shit, that might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. He looks like a Greek god. I just wanna tackle him.”

“You’re in a relationship,” you remind her.

“Yes, but if I weren’t, I’m telling you I’d climb that like a tree. But since I can’t, you have to.”

You cackle so hard and so suddenly you almost fall over. You? Have a chance with that guy? “Good one.”

She pouts, leaning her back on the dessert case so you can just see the customer behind her. He’s pulled a book out of his leather messenger bag and reads it while he sips his coffee. Your heart does a flip. “I’m serious. You haven’t dated anyone in how long again?”

You don’t even want to say, so you ignore the question. “Look, you can tell by the way he’s dressed that he doesn’t even work in this part of town. After today, we’ll probably never see him again. So let’s just enjoy the view while it lasts and then forget this ever happened, hm?” You say it lightly, cheekily, teasing Petra until she rolls her eyes and returns to the register to help the next customer as a line starts to form.

Forgetting, however, proves impossible. Even as you’re dashing back and forth for ingredients, making multiple drinks at a time to try and move the line along, you can’t stop glancing over at the blonde man sitting in the window. He sits comfortably but with perfect posture, one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, occasionally flipping a page in his paperback or taking a drink from his mug. With every spare second, you catch yourself looking at him, scrutinizing his face like it’s a marble statue in a museum.

After an hour, during which you mess up at least three different drinks and have to remake them, you finally figure out what it is that makes him so remarkable. All of his features are strong: heavy brows over large cerulean eyes, sharp aquiline nose with a prominent bridge, pale but pouty lips, especially for a man, and a jawline and cheekbones that could cut glass. They’re all dominant, not just one. On most people, this would be too much, too overwhelming. But on him, his frame, his projected aura of easy confidence, it’s so perfect it hurts if you think about it for long enough.

And when he rises from his seat, places his mug in the wash bin by the trash cans, and walks out the door with his book under his arm, that hurts too. You miss him as soon as he’s gone, which is insane, because you don’t even know his name. You spend the rest of the day in mourning, trying to coax yourself into accepting that you won’t be seeing him again.

It’s all for nothing, though, because around the same time the next morning, he walks in and orders another cup of the same Colombian dark roast.

Petra can’t stop smiling wolfishly at you, but you do your best to hide from her. On one hand, you’re in shock that he came back at all. On the other hand, you’re panicking. If he’s about to become a new regular, you have no idea how you’re going to handle it.

He chooses the same table in the window, which just so happens to be open again. This time, when you deliver his hot mug of coffee, you exchange nothing more than a friendly nod for his polite thanks.

While you whip up double lattes, you notice that he’s still working through the same paperback, albeit much closer to the end than he was yesterday. You crane your neck to try and see the cover, but he has it folded back under his hand in a way that would make you cringe if he didn’t look so damn gorgeous doing it. There’s concentration written in his brows, like he’s completely immersed in the story despite the noise and bustle of the morning rush.

With the breakfast crowd served and happy, you busy yourself bussing tables. You linger near the window, scrubbing the sticky coffee rings off the table next to the blonde. Don’t people know you give them saucers for a reason? Still, you take your time, allowing yourself to glance up at him a few times, admiring the way his angular profile eclipses the morning sun. You don’t realize you’re staring until he looks up from his page for a sip of his drink, catching your gaze with a smirk over the lip of his mug. You inhale sharply through your nose and avert your eyes, mortified that he caught you looking at him. As soon as the table is clean, you make a beeline back to the counter and restock the dessert case in shame.

He polishes off his coffee and the book at almost the same time. Then he busses his own table again, as if you’re not half in love with him already. On his way to the door, he tosses a long glance over his shoulder, and you feel your cheeks heat and flush. As much as you want to watch him leave, you have to look away, coy and embarrassed. You’re being way too obvious, and he’s catching on.

Once your shift is over, you run a few errands, cook some noodles for dinner, and spend the evening playing a hack and slash RPG to take your mind off the beautiful stranger. You resolve that if he comes back again, you’ll stop obsessing. He’s just a customer who happens to be as kind as he is gorgeous, but that doesn’t mean you can act like a fucking teenager. You’re an adult, for christ’s sake. You need to get a grip.

---

Wednesday is Petra’s day off, so the next morning, you’re manning the counter with Moblit, who is sweet but quiet and tends to focus on his work. It would make for a peaceful morning if Levi wasn’t seated at the end of the bar top opposite the counter, complaining.

Levi works the night shift at the hospital, heading up the janitorial staff, and has been coming into the coffee shop since before you even worked there. He’s as much of a fixture in the shop as any of your coworkers. He knows everyone, making him overly blunt and familiar, and he’s always exhausted. He’s also dating Petra, which you aren’t sure how they manage since their schedules and personalities are so opposite. Levi is all doom and gloom while Petra is an energetic ray of sunshine, but hey. They complete each other.

Levi is in rare form this morning, slumped forward on his stool, elbows on the counter and one hand curled like a claw over the top of his teacup. He came straight from work, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to his long, overnight shift. Poor Moblit looks terrified as Levi traps him with his horror stories of all the bodily fluids he had to clean up the night before.

Normally, you’d tap Moblit out, knowing Levi will get pissy if someone doesn’t listen to him, and you’re actually grossly fascinated by his stories from the hospital, if you’re being honest. When you confessed to him that you might want to work in the medical field someday, he gave you what advice he could. Though it didn’t end up changing your employment situation, the two of you grew closer in the process as Levi stepped into the role of the wise older brother figure.

Moblit looks like he wants your help, but today, you’re sticking to the register, watching the door like a hawk to see if a certain tall blonde is going to walk in.

Your resolve to stop obsessing was crushed the moment you woke up from a literal dream about the mystery man. It was nothing overtly sexual, but you dreamt that you were lying on a picnic blanket in the park, and he was feeding you strawberries and reading aloud to you from another worn paperback. The ache in your chest when you awoke was crushing, the scene fading into the abyss of sleep before you could really wrap your head around it. While it wasn’t out of the ordinary for some of your customers to appear in your dreams, you’d never dreamt about one in such a romantic fashion before.

But what did it mean? How could you tell the difference between pure infatuation and love at first sight? And were you crazy for even considering it?

“Hey, moron, you’re staring,” Levi deadpans from the other end of the counter. You shake your head, refocusing your eyes on him instead of the door. When you look his way, Levi lifts his mug, signaling that he’s ready for a refill.

“Sorry,” you mutter, shuffling to grab the pot of Earl Grey you made for him, knowing he’d drink three or four cups before heading out.

“What’s up with you?” he asks once his cup is full again.

“Oh nothing, nothing,” you reply, breathy and dismissive.

“Bullshit. Something’s up and I know it. Now spill.” He narrows his eyes at you over the top of his mug as he takes a long sip. His gaze is so pointed, you’re ready to break down and confess everything about your silly crush.

“It’s just—”

The bell on the door jingles as you’re setting down the teapot, and you look up so quickly that tea sloshes out onto the floor. It’s him.

“What?” Levi groans, looking over his shoulder at the stranger approaching from behind. You ignore him completely, smoothing down your apron and situating yourself in a way that you hope looks casual behind the cash register. You also hope that Levi doesn’t say anything embarrassing, but you’re not holding your breath, because his people skills are not the best.

The blonde smiles when he sees you at the register, and you swear you can feel your heart flip over inside your chest. “Hello again,” he greets in that lovely baritone of his. Meanwhile, your throat feels dry and sticky.

“Uh, hi again,” you echo, unable to find your own words. Your mouth is open, and you were hoping this would go better without Petra there, but alarm bells are ringing in your brain. You’re panicking. You finally squeak out, “So, the usual?” You wish it was a full sentence, but at least it’s a coherent thought.

He chuckles, perhaps delighted that you remember, but oh, how could you ever forget? He opens his wallet and replies, “Seems I’m becoming a regular.”

“Mmhmm.” The sound reverberates behind your closed lips as you punch in his order and swipe his card through the reader. Stupid, stupid, you curse yourself mentally, but you can’t find the right words when his face is distracting you. You hand the card back and mercifully, he speaks before you can

“I can just wait here while you pour it. You don’t have to carry it all the way over t

Your cheeks burn, flustered by his willingness to oblige. If only he were an asshole, then you wouldn’t care that he was so damn handsome.

You turn your back and pour the dark roast into a mug, place a saucer and spoon underneath, and set it down on the counter in front of him. “Thanks,” he says with a simple grin before heading off to add his sugar and honey. Your heart is pounding by the time he walks away, and you press a shaking hand to your chest, hoping to calm it. Too bad you don’t have time to before Levi chimes in.

“Wow, that was almost painful.” By the time you whip your head around to glare at him, he’s already looking straight down into his tea as he takes another sip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” For all their differences, Levi is about as subtle as Petra, which isn’t saying much. You just hope he keeps the volume down, whatever he’s going to say.

Levi shrugs as he sets down his drink. “So, you like that guy?”

You fiddle with your hands. It’s not worth lying to him at this point, he already knows. “So it’s that obvious?”

“Tch.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean I guess I’d be surprised if you weren’t. He’s hot.”

“Oh my god. First Petra and now you.”

“I can’t blame her, really.” He’s so matter of fact, it makes you wonder if he’s ever been jealous, ever felt insecure when it comes to his love life. Probably not. With Levi, what you see is exactly what you get.

With a defeated sigh, your head and elbows spill onto the counter in front of him. There’s something about his nonchalance that makes everything come tumbling out of you. “He came in for the first time on Monday, and I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. But I don’t have a chance in hell, do I?”

Levi swallows the last of his tea. “I didn’t say that. Why wouldn’t you have a chance?”

You lift your head, resting your chin in your hands as your eyes wander toward the window. “You saw him. He’s obviously got his shit together, while I definitely do not. And he’s gotta be, what, ten years older than me?” You peel your eyes away, instead surveying the bottles of various flavors of coffee syrup lined up along the wall behind you.

Levi scoffs, then taps you on the arm. You don’t want to face him, but you do. He leans forward, looking you sternly in the eye. “You’re nervous because you don’t know anything about him. You’re idealizing him in your head before you get to know him. Once you break the ice, you’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say, mister no-filter.”

“Hey, I was nervous to ask Petra out the first time. And look how it worked out for me.”

“Yeah, but she’d also been dying for you to ask her out for weeks. And y'all were practically already in love anyway. You knew it was reciprocated.”

“Did you see the way he smiled at you? It’s reciprocated.”

“Fat chance.”

Levi clinks his cup against the counter. “You’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. Just wait a while, then carry a coffee pot over there and ask if he wants a refill. That’s your in. Then ask him about what he’s reading, and you’re golden.”

“I don’t know.” It feels weird taking dating advice from Levi of all people, but you have to admit, he swooped up Petra without a hitch. You shrink into yourself, wrapping your arms around your middle before chancing another peek at the window. He’s reading a different paperback today, you can tell by the size of it. You still can’t see the cover though.

“Hey.” Levi’s voice is a little softer this time, and that catches your attention more than anything. “If you can talk to a scary motherfucker like me, you sure as hell can talk to a guy as nice as him.”

That, you can’t help but smirk at. You punch him halfheartedly in the shoulder. “You’re not as scary as you think.” The eye roll it earns you is incredibly gratifying.

After about twenty minutes, and a little more ribbing from Levi, you fill a handheld coffee pot from the urn of dark roast. No one is waiting at the counter, and Moblit’s on standby in case someone comes in. It’s slow for a Wednesday, and your instrumental playlist is drifting calmly from the overhead speakers. Inside, you’re a hurricane, but you’re going to do this because if nothing else, Levi will never let you forget it if you don’t.

You carry the half-full pot of coffee carefully toward the blonde, rehearsing your line in your head. As you approach him, he looks up from his book, and you promptly forget what you were going to say. You raise the coffee pot to indicate your intent. “Uh, can I warm you up?” He raises an eyebrow. “Your coffee,” you correct hastily. “Can I warm your drink up?”

“Sure.” He shifts the book to his left hand, tucking his thumb inside to mark the page. With his right hand, he lifts his mug by the handle.

You don’t know how it happens. You reach out to pour the piping hot liquid into his mug, but when the plastic lip of the pot touches ceramic, something shifts, and there’s coffee splashing and glass breaking and his chair scraping against the floor as he stands up. There’s a dark coffee stain right on the knee of his tan dress pants, and you wish you could just crawl into a hole and die.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Oh shit. Let me get you some towels.” You probably shouldn’t be cursing in front of a customer you just spilled hot coffee on, but your mouth is moving faster than your brain. You rush back behind the counter as fast as you can without spilling the rest of the coffee on yourself. Moblit is waiting with a roll of paper towels, but you quickly wet a clean washrag in the sink because god damnit, you probably burned him.

You run back to his table, where he’s still standing, surrounded by a puddle of dark roast and the smashed pieces of his mug. He has his hands up like he doesn’t know what to do with them. You feel like you’re going to cry. No, scratch that, you are crying. Horrifically embarrassed, you sniffle as you hold out the wet cloth. “Here, this is cold, for your leg. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry.” You need to stop cursing but you can’t.

You hardly look at him, barely register when he takes the cloth from your hand. You run back for the broom and dustpan, which you snatch from Moblit’s hands, bless his heart. You sweep up the broken glass in a hurry before anyone gets hurt. Oh lord.

“Are you hurt? Did the glass cut you?” This is it. This guy is going to need stitches and he’s gonna sue Scout Coffee for sending him to the ER and ruining his expensive suit. They’re gonna fire you, and you’re going to lose your apartment, and—

He’s laughing. You look up from your broom and dustpan to see that the handsome blonde guy is chuckling to himself. “No, no, I’m fine, really. I’m sorry for making such a mess.”

So he’s not bleeding. “But your leg,” you begin, but he stops you, sounding almost frustrated with himself.

“It wasn’t that hot; it was just what was already cooling off in the mug. But thank you. I’m really sorry for all the trouble.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, dumbstruck, before you sweep the rest of the glass into the dustpan. “No, it was my fault, I’m sorry.”

He sits down again, dabbing at his pant leg with his left hand while he wiggles the fingers of his right at you. “No, I wasn’t thinking. I hurt my elbow playing tennis years ago, and the nerve damage that acts up sometimes. I’ll completely lose feeling in that hand once in a while, and when it goes numb, I drop things. I should have known better than to hold the mug with one hand, but I didn’t have a bookmark. Stupid of me.”

There’s a lightness to his tone, a jovial self-deprecation that you know he’s putting on to try and cheer you up. But his story is just odd enough that you’re inclined to believe it.

“O-ok. Just give me one sec.” You scurry away to dispose of the broken mug. You pour him another dark roast in a paper to-go cup, add sugar and honey, and bring it back to him along with the roll of paper towels for the rest of the mess.

“Here,” you say, setting the cup down before mopping up the wet floor. Thankfully, the commotion has died down a bit, and people have stopped staring. “And I’ll refund the first cup from your card. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s really ok. I’m just clumsy. Promise.” He turns his wrist a few times and flexes his fingers before extending his hand out to you.

You look at the wad of wet paper towels dripping down your arm and back at him. “Um.” You offer your left hand instead. He chuckles again and you shake left hands, his long, thick fingers dwarfing yours. Closer now than before, you notice for the first time the hint of a few fine lines around his eyes and forehead, the ghosts of many smiles shared over the years.

He nods. “I’m Erwin, by the way.” You offer your name, and he gives your hand a slight squeeze before letting go. Then he gathers his things and tips his paper cup to you. “Thanks for the warm-up.”

Hiding the blush on your cheeks, you walk away to dispose of the paper towels, finding it hard to turn away from Erwin. Levi was right; you were putting this guy on a pedestal in your head. He’s just a guy, not some god. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t still head over heels for him.

Oh no. Levi.

His hands are crossed over his chest, head cocked to the side. “So, how’d it go?” he asks too loudly. You shush him.

“You saw how it went.”

“Yeah. He likes you though.”

“No, he doesn’t.” The realization leaves you a little hollow inside. “I spilled coffee on him. He’s just being nice.”

Levi’s eyes flick over to the register. You follow his gaze to catch Erwin dropping a five-dollar bill—more than enough to cover the coffee you were about to refund—into the tip jar before turning toward the door.

“Yeah,” Levi drawls, leaning back in his seat. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

You turn around so Levi doesn’t see you smile.

--

Thursday is your day off. You wake up at a leisurely time, find something to eat, and watch a few episodes of the show you’ve been binging before getting ready for the day. You run your errands for the week, but even long lines at the bank can’t get you down today.

That evening after DND, you tell your friends about the coffee incident. When someone asks you if the guy was cute, you think of Erwin’s smile and answer yes.

--

On Friday, Erwin sees you before you see him. You have your finger on the nozzle of a can of whipped cream, and you’re just finishing off the iced frap you’re making when a shadow falls over the counter in front of you. You swirl the top of the whipped cream before you look up, and there he is.

“Hi.” You’re sure it sounds stupid, but he caught you off guard. Though you can’t say you’re unhappy to see him, not at all. As you let off the tip of the spray can, a bit of whipped cream drips off onto your pointer finger. Without thinking, you raise it to your mouth and lick it off.

Erwin’s clear blue eyes flick down to your mouth and back up to your face. He clears his throat before speaking. “Hi. I uh, missed seeing you here yesterday.”

Realizing that you just put your finger in your mouth, you lean over to the sink to wash your hands. It’s a good thing, because you can feel your face heating up. It happens with some regulars, you remind yourself. They like routine; they like the same person telling them good morning and pouring their coffee every day. But when Erwin says he missed you… you’re not sure how to read it.

You laugh it off because it seems like the only choice. “Yeah, Thursday’s my day off.” He doesn’t seem like the stalkery type, the kind of customer that you shouldn’t tell what shifts you work or what time you get off. Petra had one of those follow her out to her car once, some silver-haired guy that she had to get a restraining order for even after Levi threatened to beat his face in. But you could all tell that guy was going to be an issue as soon as he walked in. Erwin gives off no such vibes.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed it,” he answers sincerely.

“Thanks.” A moment of awkward silence passes between you before you think to ask, “Oh, do you want a cup of the Colombian?”

“Yes, please.”

Instead of taking the coffee to his usual table, which is clean and open, Erwin sits down at the bar top across from the prep counter. He doesn’t pull out a book, either, and the heat around your collar begins to rise. People only sit at the counter if they want to chat, and you’re flattered and flustered by it all at once. To distract yourself, you wipe down the counter again.

“So,” you start casually, remembering what Levi said about Erwin being just a person, “I hope you didn’t have any big meetings the other day after I spilled that coffee all over you.”

Erwin chuckles. “When I spilled the coffee?” You get the sense that this is going to be a point of contention for a while. “Actually, I did, but I keep spare clothes in my office because, like I said, clumsy.” He motions to himself, and though you still have trouble believing someone as chiseled and poised as Erwin could be considered clumsy in general, you have to imagine he’s spent a long time dealing with that old injury of his.

“Does your office have, like, a walk-in closet?” Yes, you’ve noticed over the past week that Erwin’s suits are always neatly pressed, like he gets them dry cleaned. He wears very expensive shoes, and a big silver watch. That’s not a cheap haircut either. Not like you’d ask him directly, but it’s driving you crazy wondering exactly what he does for a living.

Erwin shakes his head as he takes a sip of dark roast. “No, just a regular closet. It does have a pretty great view of downtown, though.”

“Oh yeah? Must be nice having a big, fancy office all to yourself.” You squeeze your lips together. That might have been a little forward of you. Reign it in, tiger.

Erwin remains unphased, though. He actually sounds a little dejected when he says, “Yeah, the view is one of the best parts of the job.”

This makes you quirk an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Erwin chuckles. “I’m being a bit dramatic. It’s not so bad.”

You can’t stand beating around the bush anymore. “So where do you work?”

“Stohess Ad Agency. You’ve probably seen the building, it’s the tower with the bank logo on the top.”

You drop your rag into the sink. When he mentioned the view, you weren’t exactly sure he meant ‘skyscraper,’ but it all seems to add up. “So, you write ads? Any I’ve seen?”

Erwin runs one palm over the back of his neck before wrapping both hands around his steaming coffee mug. His fingers interlock as he lifts it toward his mouth with both hands. “I don’t write them anymore, really.”

You drop a hand on your hip. “So you’re, what, an executive?” You’re not even completely sure you’re using that word right, but you’re pretty it means one of the higher-ups.

Erwin hides his mouth behind the mug as he answers. “CEO,” he says simply, casting his eyes down, away from your face. His voice is quiet, but a smirk plays at the corner of his lip.

You’d be ashamed to admit it, but those three letters go straight between your legs. The power, the authority—it’s very much a turn on. You can imagine him behind a giant desk with his feet up, talking on the phone about getting some reports on his desk first thing in the morning. You also shamefully think about him drawing the venetian blinds closed on the windows of his corner office and bending you over that desk. But you’re getting way, way too ahead of yourself, mainly because Erwin falls silent after that, taking tiny sips of his coffee as his eyes linger anywhere but your face.

You lean your elbows on the counter you just cleaned, meaning you’ll have to wipe it down again, but it brings you below eye level with Erwin, who turns to look down the slope of his nose at you. You grin and ask, hoping to ease whatever this tension might be, “So, is it like Mad Men?”

Erwin cracks, eyes crinkling slightly as he shows his perfect teeth in a smile. He shakes his head. “Not really.”

The conversation meanders as an hour passes. Erwin waits patiently as you help other customers, always ready to pick back up where you left off when you come back. The two you settle into an easy flow of questions and answers, learning little details about each other along the way. You find out that he recently moved to a house in the suburbs, which made his commute to work longer but makes Scout Coffee the easiest play to stop for his morning pick me up on the way.

“Why the move, then?”

Erwin shrugs. “I was tired of my apartment. I don’t mind driving; the car is where I do my best thinking. Plus, I wanted more room for Daisy.”

Your stomach drops. “Daisy?” His wife? No, doesn’t wear a ring. His daughter, maybe?

Erwin reaches for his phone and taps a few times before sliding it across the counter to you. A photo of him and the happiest looking golden retriever you’ve ever seen waits on the screen, and you audibly gasp. This might be the most attractive thing about him yet.

“Oh my gosh, she’s beautiful. How old?”

Erwin takes his phone back and stares at the picture for a moment before sliding it back in his pocket. “She’s six. I rescued her as a puppy right around when I got promoted to VP,” he muses to himself, marking the time in his mind.

“Well, I’m sure she likes the extra room to run around.” Erwin agrees.

You don’t want to pry, but he makes it sound like he moved up the corporate ladder so quickly. It’s a world you understand so little about, never having worked in an office setting. The politics of it all, clawing your way to the top of a big company like that, it’s weirdly fascinating to you. You want to ask more about it, but you don’t want to come across like you’re trying to grill him. You decide to drop it for now, but you don’t want this to end. “Refill?”

“Please,” he says, but he catches sight of his watch as he holds out his mug. “Oh, wow. It’s already 9:00. I should actually get going.”

“I’ll make it to-go.” You’re careful to set the paper cup and sleeve down on the counter instead of passing it to him in the air. Just to be safe.

Erwin gathers his stuff, and you take a moment to appreciate the way the sleeves of his plaid button down are rolled up over his forearms. He’s still wearing khakis and a tie, but it must be casual Friday.

“So, I’m not sure if I’ll make it in this weekend, but…” Erwin lingers at the counter, coffee in hand.

You can’t hide your grin if you wanted to. “See you on Monday. Now go before you’re late!” You wave a nearby hand towel at him, and he laughs.

“I’m already a little late,” he confesses, “but I’m the boss. I can spare a few more minutes for coffee in the morning.” He takes a deep breath, like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods. “See you on Monday.”

He must not think you’re looking when he drops a couple bucks into the tip jar on his way out.

--

The weekend passes much too slowly. You spend a lot of it reading, some of it working on your next DND character, and the rest of it texting Petra and Levi.

Levi: He was late to work because he was talking to you. Oh yeah, you’re in.

Petra: HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKES YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

You’re embarrassed but so giddy that you don’t even tell them to stop.

--

On Monday, Erwin comes in a little later than usual. He misses the rush, so you pour yourself a coffee along with his. He’s dressed to perfection in a sleek, black suit, but his eyes look tired. Still, they light up when he sees you.

“Good morning,” he says in a half-sigh.

“Good morning,” you say. “The usual? Or can I interest you in a blonde roast?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Blonde has more caffeine.”

“Give me the blonde.”

This tired, almost defeated Erwin is something you’ve never seen before, never even imagined, really. He even lets his forehead drop heavily onto the bar top after he sits down. But he’s still here; he still came to get his coffee, and hopefully to see you. You spent all weekend looking forward to seeing him again, and not even his change in mood is enough to put you off. Instead, you look for ways to help.

You add the sugar and honey to his coffee for him and place it on the bar top next to his outstretched hand. “Rise and shine,” you tease lightly, hoping to ease his mood a little. Erwin lifts his head, and though he closes his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger, a sleepy smile spreads across his lips.

“Thank you,” he says so sincerely, it could make you melt on the spot. As he takes his first sip, you can’t help but imagine him, in pajamas and with his hair a mess, drinking his morning coffee across from you at a spotless kitchen island. It’s a daydream you need to tuck away for later, though.

“Of course. So, what’s up?”

Erwin tells you he was up late the night before, looking over some spreadsheets that one of his employees sent in incredibly late. It’s something to do with financials, far above your understanding of how corporate business works, but mercifully, he only gives you the CliffsNotes version of it. He’s typically good about getting enough sleep, he tells you, but this morning, he’s running on only a few hours, plus he had to take Daisy on a walk, and get ready for a meeting with the board of directors that morning.

“So, you’re the boss, but they’re like, your bosses?”

“Essentially, yes.” Erwin downs the rest of his blonde roast. You refill him without even asking. “So, the caffeine is desperately needed today.”

“I hope it goes well. I’m sure you’ll dazzle them with your… statistics or whatever.”

Erwin smiles gratefully. “Thank you. The quarterly reports look good, which helps make me look good in their eyes. Enough about me, though. How was your weekend?”

“You have time to stay and talk?” You want to make sure you don’t make him late today.

“I’ve got time.”

You tell him that there isn’t much to report, but he’s not satisfied. After pressing you a bit more, you admit, “Well, I spent a good bit of Saturday prepping for the new DND campaign my friends and I are starting this week.”

“DND?”

“Dungeons and Dragons. You know, with the maps and the dice and fighting monsters and stuff.”

“Oh, right. I’ve never tried it. It seems… difficult.”

“Well, the stats and the lore can be really overwhelming, to be honest, but when you break it down, it’s really just using archetypes and prompts to tell a story together, you know?”

When Erwin still looks confused, you explain the basics: creating characters, crawling dungeons, rolling for initiative. By the time you get done with your crash course, he’s nodding along, looking much more enthusiastic than he was when he walked in. You don’t even know how long you’ve been talking when Erwin looks down at his watch. “Sorry, I’m probably boring you to death.

As he gets ready to leave, he tells you, “Not at all. I can tell you’re really passionate about this.” You’ve already made him a to-go cup, which he nods appreciatively. “Thank you so much. This day just got a lot better.”

“It was nothing. See you tomorrow?”

Erwin nods. “Tomorrow.”

--

On Tuesday, you barely have time to look in Erwin’s direction when he arrives, but he can barely get in the door anyway. There’s a marathon race in the city that ends about a block away, so spectators and runners alike have kept you busy all morning. Petra’s at the register and the line is all the way back to the entrance. Erwin takes his place in it and waits anyway.

When the order for the Colombian crosses the counter to you (Petra graciously drew a little heart on the slip to give you a heads up), you give yourself a moment to greet Erwin before diving back into the next order. He’s able to get a seat at the very end of the bar top, much farther down from where you’re working on drinks. You’re bummed that you can’t even talk to him while you blend iced lattes and froth foam, figuring he’ll leave before the crowd dies down, but an hour later, he’s still sitting there, mug empty and paperback in hand.

You practically collapse on the counter in front of him. “Ok. It’s my turn to be exhausted today,” you say, your voice muffled as your chin comes to rest on your crossed forearms.

“That was quite the rush,” Erwin remarks.

“Please. I want to talk about anything but coffee right now,” you sigh. You lift your eyes to meet his, thankful that he’s still there to help take your mind off things for a moment while Petra grinds more coffee beans in the back.

Erwin thinks for a minute. “Oh. I forgot to mention. I met your friend Levi.” You nearly spit out your drink. A little bit actually dribbles onto your chin, but you hide it with your hand as quickly as you can.

“When?” You panic momentarily, afraid Levi was out stalking Erwin because you physically won’t shut up about him.

“Your day off last week. We ended up chatting for a while.” When you slap your palm over your face, Erwin laughs. “Don’t worry, he didn’t tell me any embarrassing stories about you or anything.”

You roll your eyes. “Still, I hope he behaved himself. He’s not the best with people.”

“I’ll say he was a bit blunt, but friendly enough. He said you’re a big reader.”

If Levi was here, you’d strangle him. Whether or not Erwin asked is irrelevant; Levi taking it upon himself to be your wingman is mortifying, but you try to make the best of it. “Yep. I like the classics, mostly, but I pick up a contemporary novel now and then. How about you?”

Erwin ponders. “I’m a serial rereader. I’m always going back to old favorites.” He flips over the paperback on the counter, The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway.

“It’s a nice feeling, going back to a book and knowing exactly what you’re going to get out of it,” you muse. You draw figure eights with your finger in a ring of condensation left behind on the bar top by someone else’s water glass.

“True,” Erwin says. “But I also find that sometimes, when I come back to something I’ve already read before, in a different stage of life, that it hits me differently now. Do you ever get that?”

You think, trying to find common ground, but— “No, nothing really comes to mind. But I get what you’re saying.”

Erwin snorts, somehow looking incredibly attractive while doing it. “Must be because--” He cuts himself off mid-thought.

“What?” you tease. “What were you going to say?”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Must be because you’re younger than I am.”

It’s the first time either of you has actually brought it up out loud, the age difference between you. You’ve been assuming, based on looks and his career trajectory, that Erwin has a few years on you, but you’re still too shy to ask how many. It seems rude, somehow. Instead, you opt to continue teasing. “I’ll assure you, I have plenty of life experience.”

Erwin smiles fondly. “I’m sure you do.”

--

On Wednesday, everything changes. You’re scrubbing down tables, just starting to think about how it’s already 9am. Erwin should have been here by now. He didn’t mention any meetings this morning, not that he has to tell you his whole schedule, but you’re starting to worry anyway. What if something happened on his commute? What if you offended him yesterday when you poked him about his age? What if—

The bell above the door jingles, and you hear a chipper dog barking outside. Never one to miss a dog spotting, you look up and your jaw physically drops.

You can tell it’s Erwin purely by his size. Instead of his normal business attire, he’s wearing a black sweat-wicking athletic tee, black running shorts, and bright blue tennis shoes. Unless you were seeing him in profile (because his is so incredibly distinct), you might have to do a double take to recognize his face in a baseball hat and sunglasses. A pair of earbuds dangle around his neck and wrapped around his hand is a red leash with a beautiful golden retriever on the other end. You look back and forth between him and the dog—Daisy, it has to be—until Erwin waves you over with a wide, toothy grin on his face.

You bite your lip and hold up a finger, signaling just a minute before dashing up to the counter. “Hey, Mobs, will you be ok if I step outside for just a second?”

Moblit, who was rearranging the tea bag display beside the register, shoos you away with his hand. “Sure, we’re not busy. Go talk to your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my—”

“Uh huh.” Moblit wears a sly grin on his face. He might not say much, but he’s definitely observant. Plus, Petra probably spilled the beans. So you drop it completely and book it outside.

You barely say hello to Erwin before you’re kneeling on the sidewalk to pet Daisy. “Hi girl! Oh, you’re so sweet,” you coo, absolutely melting under Daisy’s friendly gaze. She leans into your hands, letting you rub her around the ears and fluff up all her beautiful golden fur. It’s not until you get your fill of pets that you look up to Erwin, who is watching you with delight. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He offers his free hand to help you up from the sidewalk, but as he’s pulling you up, his wrist goes slack and you wobble a bit. “Damnit, sorry.”

You shake your head, remembering his nerve trouble. “Don’t worry about it.” You look back to Daisy, unable to keep your hand from stroking the top of her head. She’s incredibly well-behaved, a perfect lady despite the people passing by on the sidewalk. “Oh my god, I love her. Hey, I was wondering, did you name her after Daisy Buchanan?”

Erwin smiles. “You caught me. I’m a big Fitzgerald fan.”

You shrug. “Me too.” Selfishly, you take a moment to let your eyes rake over him. You’ve never seen him like this before. His shirt is tight, showing off every bulge and curve of his toned upper body, from his pecs to his traps. It’s clear he takes incredible care of himself, and what you wouldn’t give to sink your teeth into that muscle. You caught an eyeful of his calf muscles as you knelt to pet Daisy, and his legs don’t disappoint either. But finally, when Erwin takes a few steps to the side to let someone carrying a large box down the street through, you notice a hint of his dick imprint through the swishy material of his shorts. Naughty, lustful thoughts hit you like a freight train—appropriate, because all you can think about now is letting Erwin rail you. The feeling burns brightly between your legs before the sensation passes.

You clear your throat. “So, what’s the deal? You and Daisy playing hooky today?”

Erwin rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, I decided to take a few personal days now that the review with the board is over. They’ll survive without me for a bit, I hope.”

“That’s great.” Erwin has seemed a bit overworked, so you’re glad to hear he’s taking a little break for himself. Just about every time he mentioned his work, he sounded burnt out, now that you think about it. But that begs another question. “So, did you come by for a coffee, or…”

“Um, no, actually.” Erwin fidgets with Daisy’s leash. “I’m taking her to the dog park so I can’t actually stay, but I wanted to come by…” Erwin pauses, and you forget to breathe. Is he really…?

“I was wondering if you’d like to go out for something other than coffee.” His face remains calm, but he bounces the toe of his tennis shoe against the pavement. “Could I take you to dinner tonight? Tomorrow is your day off, right?”

Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. You’re sure you look insane, blinking at him with a surprised look on your face until finally, you say, “Yes. I’d love that.”

Erwin smiles and then fishes in his pocket for his phone. “Here, uh, put your number in. I’ll text you for your address and pick you up. How about 8:00?”

You get off at 4, which leaves plenty of time for you to run home, shower, and find something decent to wear. “Sounds great.” You punch in your number and hand the phone back to him.

“Ok.” He looks as surprised as you feel. “Ok, well, I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you tonight.”

--

When Erwin arrives to pick you up in a black Mercedes, you refuse to believe it’s actually him at first. In the back of your mind, you catch yourself thinking about it often: Erwin has money, but you’d like him even if he didn’t. It takes no convincing, no doubt in your mind at all, but you never want to come across like you’re just interested in that. Once you text him to confirm that yes, that is him parked in front of your apartment building, you check yourself in the mirror one final time before grabbing your bag and heading out to meet him.

As you plop down in the front seat, it’s still as if you’re surprised to see him there. You’re so used to only seeing him in the mornings and when you’re working, it feels like you’ve stepped through the looking glass as you take him in against the plush leather interior. He looks positively gorgeous in an army green henley that accents his broad chest and dark jeans—you didn’t even know the man owned jeans.

“You look nice,” he compliments as he pulls away from the curb. Compared to him, you don’t feel like you could ever measure up, even though you chose an outfit you love, but you accept the compliment graciously anyway.

The drive is short; once Erwin got your address, he suggested a restaurant not far from your neighborhood. It’s a tapas place with a bar that he says is great, but you’ve never been there before. When you Googled the place to see how fancy you needed to dress, you remembered why: the cocktails cost as much as you’d pay for your whole dinner somewhere else. Still, when the two of you step inside, you’re charmed by the low lighting and jazz music that sets the mood.

It’s a seat-yourself deal, so you follow Erwin to a tall bistro table with two stools, putting a little distance between yourselves and the noisy bar. As you trail behind him, you can’t help but admire how incredible his ass looks in his jeans. Your stomach drops in anticipation, wondering where this night is going to go before you take a deep breath and try not to get ahead of yourself.

He helps you up onto the tall stool like an absolute gentleman before taking his place across from you. He slides a menu your way. “So, the idea here is sort of that you order to share, but if you’d rather have your own entree—”

“I’m fine sharing.” There’s something very sweet and cozy about the idea of splitting appetizers like a real couple. The thought strikes you with momentary panic, oh god, you thought this was a date, but what if he didn’t—

“I hope this isn’t too much for a first date,” Erwin says, a soft look in his eyes. “I just thought you might like this place.”

You exhale. “It was a perfect choice.”

A server approaches your table before there’s time to flirt any more, and you put in your drink and food order at the same time, since you opted for a late dinner. You’re grateful, even though you don’t want to admit that you’re starving. You order your favorite drink but let Erwin take the lead and pick the appetizers. You’re a little overwhelmed by the menu because everything sounds so good. He picks three plates, and it’s not long before the server returns with everything and you dig in.

“So, how was the dog park?” By now, it’s pretty easy for you to make conversation with Erwin without it feeling forced. All those mornings spent chatting have really put you at ease around him, although you have to admit that tonight feels a lot different. For one thing, you’re not working, and you can put your full attention into him instead of making coffees. Now that you don’t have to do anything but enjoy his company while you talk, you find it hard to look away.

“Good, really good. It’s worth the drive into the city, and Daisy really likes it. Hopefully I tired her out enough that she doesn’t destroy the house while I’m gone.” The shadows from the neon lights scattered across the wall throw pretty shadows across Erwin’s nose and mouth as he speaks.

“A great start to your vacation, huh?”

Erwin tips back his whiskey sour. “Yes. It’s sorely needed, I have to say.”

You wonder if it’s the right time to ask, to test the waters without prying. Even though you’re in public, something about sitting in the dark makes it feel like you’re the only two people here, like it’s safe to bring things out into the open that you wouldn’t normally talk to him about. So you decide it can’t hurt just to ask. “Is it stressful, your job?”

Erwin lets his chin drop forward, eyes cast down at the table. He considers his words carefully before he answers, it appears. “Very.” He says it with a smile, but one that covers a hint of hurt just below the surface. He finishes his drink before he goes on. “It’s funny. I started as an assistant at the agency right out of college, and after I got my first promotion, I thought I had it made. I started climbing the corporate ladder, and the next thing I knew, I was on top of it. I wasn’t doing the legwork anymore, the creative work of advertising. Instead, I was making sure everyone else did their job and sitting in meetings all day. It’s exactly what I thought I wanted,” he confesses, “and now I’m always wishing I had done something else.”

Without thinking, you reach out across the table, letting your fingertips bump against his. You thought maybe it had just been a rough few weeks. But as pained as you feel for him, you’re also touched that he’d be so open with you. “Something else like what?”

One side of his mouth pulls up in a grin as he looks up at you. “It’s silly, but I minored in English Lit. I always kind of wanted to write the next great American novel. But that’s just… a dream, I guess.”

You shrug. “You could totally write a novel if you wanted to.”

“I’m 38, you know. I think it might be a bit too late for me to head down a whole new career path.”

Your guess wasn’t far off, but even though he has more than a decade on you, it doesn’t really change how you see him. “Ah yes, you’re practically an old man.”

Erwin laughs. “Talk to me when you’re almost 40 and tell me that’s not how it feels.”

You slide your fingers farther between his on the table, and you feel his hand twitch against yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Seriously. I know I’m only 25 and dumb, but I don’t see why you can’t write if that’s what would make you happy.”

“You’re not dumb at all,” Erwin says softly, locking his fingers into the gaps between yours. He stares down where your hands are joined. “I like you a lot,” he says out of nowhere, and you feel your cheeks tingle. “To be honest, I was worried I was too old for you to be interested in me, you know, romantically.”

He’s trying to kill you; he really must be. Your heart flutters as you blurt out, “Hell no.” Erwin looks up suddenly, eyes wide. You reach for your drink with your free hand, but you can barely get a sip down before the two of you erupt into laughter together. You’re embarrassed, but also not, because it’s Erwin.

“Good to know,” he replies.

You work your way through the appetizers and a few more cocktails, conversation flowing easily throughout the night. He tells you a little more about his job, and you talk a bit about college, realizing that you both graduated from the same university in the city, just a few years apart.

“What if I was a little older or you were a little younger? Do you think this would have happened if we met back then?” You’re feeling warm and loose from the alcohol, but completely comfortable in Erwin’s presence. He’s pulled his chair around the side of the table to sit closer to you, leaning in as he listens intently.

“I think so. I was a little more uptight back then, but you were probably just as sweet, as passionate.” Erwin looks surprised when you click your tongue at him. “What?”

“I’m not really passionate about anything that really matters. After I couldn’t get a job in my field, I kind of just got content at the coffee shop. Not that I don’t like it there but… I’m not sure if it’s my dream job, you know? Like, do I want to do that forever? I just don’t know. I wish I at least had a plan.”

Erwin’s shoulder brushes yours, and maybe it’s the whiskey or maybe it’s not, but he leans in and kisses the side of your head, just above your ear. “Well, you can take it from me that your career isn’t everything. I think you care more about coffee than you think, but you also care about books and video games and DND and your friends. You should keep those things close, believe me. That’s the stuff that will make you happy.”

You close your hand around his again, the urge coming over you to make a move. You decide you’re done fighting it. “And what makes you happy?” you ask.

Erwin smiles slyly, then he takes the bait. “You.” He squeezes your hand as he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his in a soft kiss that almost makes you forget who and where you are. Nothing matters but the sharp taste of him as he presses his tongue against you, parting your lips to lick into your mouth. You don’t care who’s watching. You want him, and you want him now.

Erwin closes out his tab in a rush before leading you out to his car. As soon as he unlocks the doors, your knees hit the leather seat, and you lean over the center console to take his chin in your hands, guiding him back to your lips for more. You feel his breath on your face between every searing kiss until you capture his plump bottom lip between your teeth. You hold him there and suck hard, winning a desperate little pant from him. For a moment, you open your eyes, eager to see his face this close to yours. He’s just as beautiful up close.

You hate to break away from him, but you need more from him than you’re able to get in the front seat of his car. “Your place?” you pant against his mouth, mid-kiss.

Erwin pulls back, breathing just as hard as you are. His pupils are dilated, searching your face wildly—for what, you don’t know. “Yours is closer.”

As badly as you want to see where he lives, he’s so desperate that you would have let him take you in the bathroom of the restaurant if it came to that. He doesn’t want to wait, and you don’t either. With heat pulsing between your thighs, you agree and give him directions back to your building.

The second your door is locked behind the both of you, he pushes you up against it, pinning you under him easily. His huge frame covers all of you as he showers you with sloppy kisses that trail slowly off your lips and down to your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. He bites down hard on that shoulder, making you gasp and kick the door with your heel. You can feel your panties getting damp already, but you’re not even ashamed. His jeans leave little to the imagination.

You push against Erwin’s chest until he backs up, and you go straight for his belt buckle. He pulls his shirt up over his head as you fumble with the metal. The pads of Erwin’s fingers slide deftly under the hem of your shirt, brushing against the skin he finds underneath, making you shiver. As he slides his palms around to your lower back, pressing your hips forward toward his own, you lean back and rip the soft material of your blouse up, tossing it aside.

You leave a trail of clothes in your wake as you drag him to your bed, stopping every few steps to kiss again, to touch a newly revealed bit of skin, to press your body against his and feel him against you. You practically fall into bed with him kneeling over you, bulge growing in his gray boxer briefs. Of course he’s as attractive naked as he is fully clothed.

Erwin bites his lip as he teases at your inner thighs with his right hand, anchoring himself against the mattress with his left. His touch is feather-soft over your clothed core, and your back arches into his fingers as your head falls to the side. “Is this ok?” he asks, petting you lightly over your panties, surely feeling how wet you are for him already.

“Mmhmm.” Your eyes flutter closed and you press your lips together as Erwin pushes a little harder against you and rubs up and down your folds from end to end. Each time he comes close to your clit, you can’t help but whine for him, pretty little squeaks that have his thighs tensing on either side of your knees. Finally, after what feels like ages of teasing, you lift your hips as his middle finger catches on your sensitive bud, and Erwin mercifully digs in a little more and switches to a circular motion that has you writhing against him.

“God, yes, it feels so good, Erwin,” you whimper as your body starts to shake uncontrollably. He groans when he hears you say his name, and you feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed stiffly against your thigh. Your eyes roll back in your head; you can already feel how big he is, but you hardly have time to think about it before Erwin slows his fingers to a stop. You whine again at the loss of friction only to moan as he pulls your panties down your legs. You kick at them until they end up on the floor somewhere.

Erwin moves to your side just long enough to open your legs up wider, then situates himself between them, his own knees open wide to keep you spread and keep him balanced. He hunches over you, and you grab him by the shoulders as his fingers find your bare cunt, slippery and trembling for him. He runs two fingers between your folds, making lewd squelching noises as he coats his fingers in your slick.

“You’re so wet, it’s amazing.” His voice is breathy and low as he praises you, his words going straight to your aching pussy before his fingers follow. You’re wet enough for him to start with two fingers, and you feel each knuckle pass inside your little hole as Erwin groans with pleasure. “You take me so well. So well, angel.” He pumps those thick fingers in and out of you as you roll your hips, legs squeezing against where he holds you open.

A chorus of oh’s and ah’s tumble past your lips, your own voice out of control with how good Erwin’s fingers feel curling inside you. Every drag rubs against your hole as he plunges in and out. He stretches you slowly before adding a third finger that has you mewling and throwing your head back against your pillow. Your nails dig into the meat of his shoulders as you cry out, then you feel the rough pad of Erwin’s left thumb against your bottom lip. You kiss against it as he presses the finger into your mouth, and you feel him from both ends at once.

“Suck,” he instructs you, and you comply without resistance, wrapping your tongue around his thumb and sucking in. Erwin heaves a shuddering breath. “Good girl. Such a good girl.”

Your eyes open in a flash, and before you can warn him, you cum hard onto his fingers. He fucks you through your high, fighting against your cunt that’s clenching so hard around him. You feel like it’ll never end until he pulls his hands back with a hiss. Erwin holds his right wrist in his left and rolls it, lips pressed hard together.

As soon as you catch your breath, you ask, “Is your hand ok?”

“I’m fine,” he pants. “I just need a minute.” Though his hand must have gone numb, he doesn’t look all that concerned once the initial pain passes. He flops down on his side next to you and takes your hip in his good hand, rolling you over on top of him. “Please, sit on my face, angel. I wanna taste you before I fuck you.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You shift together until he’s in the middle of your bed, so tall his feet almost dangle off the end. With your hands on your headboard, you spread your legs and lower yourself over him. You’re still feeling the dull aftershocks from his fingers, so you barely register any embarrassment as he gazes into your pussy before craning his neck up to taste you, just like he wanted.

Using the headboard as leverage, you rise and fall, slowly bouncing on your knees as Erwin explores you with his tongue. His mouth is unbelievably hot, in temperature and fervor, as you ride his face within an inch of your life. Erwin’s tongue jabs at your tightness, digging inside you as far as he can until he needs to come back for air. His lips wrap around your cunt as you lift up, slurping your wetness so lewdly you can’t help but moan as you grind down again and again.

You build to your second high almost impossibly fast, overwhelmed by his prowess as he thoroughly eats you out. As you feel yourself getting closer, you press your body forward, breasts squished up against your headboard, and then you feel it: the sharp ridge of his nose nudging against your clit. You bounce faster, unable to resist the friction of it against your most sensitive zone. You call out his name again, warning him of what he’s doing to you.

One of Erwin’s hands slides up between your legs, two fingers dipping inside you again as he licks ragged strokes against your cunt. It’s muffled but you hear him beneath you, pleading for you. “Come on baby. Can you squirt for me? I know you can. Please, I want you to make a mess. You can do it.” His fingers thrust so quickly you can’t speak, and when he closes his lips around your bud and sucks hard, you explode. You feel a gush of liquid rush from between your thighs—something you’ve only been able to do a few times before. You can’t hold in the scream that accompanies it, and you squeeze your thighs together, skin sliding against Erwin’s now dripping face.

As the shock dies down, Erwin slides out from underneath you, bringing your soaked pillow with him. He tosses it to the side as you settle back down onto the mattress and draw air desperately back into your lungs. He finds a shirt on the floor to wipe his nose and chin on before you see him push down his waistband and step out of his underwear. Your mouth waters as soon as you get a good look at his size: he’s big all around, long and thick with a pretty vein twisting up the underside of his shaft.

His breaths are heavy as he pumps himself lazily, looking down at you with glazed over eyes. “One more, baby? Can you give me one more while I fuck you?”

You nod madly. You can’t find the words for how badly you want him inside you.

“You’re so good for me. Condom?”

“I’m on birth control. Are you clean?” He assures you that he is, and you believe him. “Then forget it and fuck me.”

Erwin groans and lets his knees fall to the mattress again. You scoot down toward him, all your movements clumsy and desperate. When you reach out for him, Erwin’s hands go soft against your thighs, and he melts into you, leaning down for a series of lingering kisses that take your breath away. When he rises again, he finds the backs of your knees and pushes upward, spreading your legs back and out, leaving you incredibly open for him. “Ready, angel?”

“Please, Erwin.”

He moans, fingers twitching against your legs. He tilts his hips so that just the tip of his cock teases against your overstimulated pussy, but it feels so good, so right even though it almost hurts. You clench instinctively, trying to pull him in, and a few seconds later, you feel him enter you with a shallow rocking of his hips.

Adrenaline rushes through you, and you make sounds you’ve never even heard before as he pushes a little farther inside you with each thrust. Erwin is panting so hard, you can feel his breath on your face even as he hovers above you, pressing down on your legs with those incredible hands of his. At this angle, not only can you feel his platinum pubes brushing against you as he finally bottoms out, but you can see them where the two of you are joined.

He holds still, shuddering and groaning as you squeeze around him; he’s so big you have no choice. It feels like you’re splitting down the middle as he stretches you to your limit, but your fucked-out mind needs, craves the pain. When you can’t stand it anymore, you whine and kick your feet to let him know you’re ready, and Erwin begins to move again.

Erwin lets his jaw hang open and his eyes flutter as he hammers into you, his strokes slow and deliberate. You feel that vein dragging against your inner wall every time he pulls out and slams back in, but it’s the one lifeline reminding you that this is real. This is really happening; you’re not just dreaming about it anymore. Erwin is yours, and you’re glad to let him take you.

Blunt nails dig into your hips as Erwin increases his tempo, huffing as he tries to talk you through it. “You feel so good… You take me beautifully... better than anyone.” He pauses to groan and you swear you feel his cock pulsing inside you. Everything below your hips is so wet, he glides in and out of you despite his massive size. Eventually, his sweaty forehead falls against yours, his body effectively folding you in half, and you scream.

His pace is brutal, building to something you’re not sure you can handle but you want all the same. Every few thrusts, he points his hips a slightly different way until he finds your cervix and taps against it. You can feel that familiar twisting in your gut, the intense tightness that makes you feel a little bit like you’re not going to make it. You squeeze as hard as you can, and apparently Erwin notices, because he asks a little too loudly, “Are you close?”

“Yes.” Your eyes are screwed shut. You can’t feel your legs. Erwin pushes himself back up and reaches down between you, finding your abused bud once more and rubbing those quick circles he must know will make you lose control.

Just before your vision whites out, he asks in a shaky voice, “Where do you want me?” In your state, he’s lucky you understand the question.

“Inside, inside,” you beg, and then the coil snaps. Your legs ache as every muscle tenses underneath Erwin, somehow pulling him even deeper than he was before as you writhe and cream around him. You fist your hands in his hair as he continues to rail against you before throwing his head back and releasing with a sharp, “Fuck!” You feel his cum running out of you as he shoots multiple loads inside, your pulsing walls milking out every last drop.

Erwin drops your legs at his sides before wrapping his hands around your waist, steadying you as he pulls out. He swipes two fingers up through your dripping folds, feeling your wetness one last time before rolling over and collapsing beside you. You clamber over against him as quickly as you can, pulling his hand up to your face and sucking his fingers clean. Erwin sighs and wraps his arms around you, holding you against his chest and stroking your hair.

“Are you… ok?” he asks between heavy breaths, and you nod.

“Better than ok,” you assure him. Maybe the best you’ve ever felt.

You stay curled together in your tangled sheets for a long time, holding each other. Erwin rubs circles into your back and your upper thighs with his knuckles, warming up your muscles that had fallen asleep while he had you pressed down. Soothing kisses are pressed to your forehead, your cheeks, your neck—anywhere he can reach—along with murmured praises. “That felt amazing. You did so well.” You don’t know if he notices, but you let one stray tear fall down your cheek, overwhelmed by not only how good but how complete this makes you feel.

After ages, Erwin uncurls himself from you. He looks at you so fondly, reaching out to brush his fingers against your flushed cheek. “Can I take you out for dinner again tomorrow?”

“How about you just stay for breakfast?”

“You don’t happen to have any of that dark roast in your apartment, do you?”

“I bought a bag. Just in case.”

--

A lot changes in the next five years, but a lot stays the same as well. You, Erwin, and Daisy live under one roof, but you commute into the city almost every day. You still work in a coffee shop, but now, it’s one you own. Erwin gave up his CEO position after his second book was published, but he kept his shares in the company, meaning you have a pretty little nest egg to fall back on, even after he helps you start your own business.

Recon Coffeehouse is located in one of the city’s hippest neighborhoods. Big tables are available for DND groups to reserve for their weekly sessions, and every Friday, you host video game tournaments. Gradually, you attract your own regulars, including your friends from Scout. Erwin sits at the end of the bar top most days, working on his next story. Being a business owner is a brand new challenge all its own, but you still find the time to work behind the counter at least once a week. Erwin puts a ring on your finger and stays by your side through everything. You’re exactly where you were always meant to be.

[ssreeder]

SREEDIE MY GORGEOUS EX-WUSBAND

(this one is possibly my longest comment ever so uhh good luck)

no fr I saw the update I was like fucking FINALLY I’m getting some good enrichment in my enclosure how do you always have perfect timing???

and just like.. 30k?? IS IT MY BIRTHDAY ALREADY WTF you’re honestly insane ilysm

fuck you I don’t love you “zuko didn’t return that night” looking ass >:(

okay ik this is a sad emotional scene but the spirits not giving a fuck about sokka is like so ironic lmao bc in the show they never leave him alone even tho he tries to avoid them at all costs T-T

bruh not sokka thinking hakoda is annoying for breathing- he’s finally experiencing a normal teenager experience :’)

oh nooooo sokka if you tell hakoda you’re in love with zuko and hakoda reacts badly fuuuuuuck

YES SOKKA SOB OUT THE SADNESS EXPERIENCE SOME CATHARSIS BESTIE WOOOO

hakoda said toxic masculinity get rekt that’s so girlboss of him

THANK YOU BATO FOR BEARING THE BRUNT IF HAKODAS ACCIDENTAL HOMOPHOBIA SO SOKKA DOESNT HAVE TO SUFFER ANY MORE THAN HE ALREADY HAS YOURE DOING THE LORDS WORK TRULY

idk how you intended this to be read but I’m picturing hakoda saying “no.. not the watch tower” like this:

but also not hakoda doing reconnaissance on zukka-

yes sokka when it’s a question of how information gets spread the answer is always fucking reho (and I love him for that how else is anyone supposed to get anything done with everyone else being too emotionally constipated to talk to each other)

I cannot express to you how fucking frustrated I am by the communication being compromised bc of the fucking dai li bc ykw??? it’s such an incredible plot point by you since it is 100% in character for the dai li to interrupt messages bUT I HATE IT SO MUCH I’m literally going to have the time of my life when Somebody finally gets a clue about what’s going on

lmao katara something really did happen after you left but lucky for you it was a good thing!! and a bad thing bc everything always goes to shit but oh wellllll

katara you moron why did you tell them you’re leaving T-T

uh yeah no I can promise you jet is anything BUT bored jet is scheming jet is raging jet is challenging firebenders to duals he can’t win JET IS MAKING FRIENDS (well one friend and he doesn’t want to admit they’re friends but reho still counts)

oh fuck. jet you’ve really done it now.

BUT ALSO I FUCKING CALLED IT I KNEW ZUKO WOULD LEAVE JUST IN TIME IM SCREAMING THE STARS ARE ALIGNING THE PLOT US UNFOLDING THE DAI LIS PLANS ARE RUINED

oh hakoda I love how smart you are we really need a good tactician and here you are saving the day <3

also quon is a fuckinf asshole I hope he gets decked at some point xx (but it’s kinda a slay too that he just has so much audacity like it’s honestly lowkey impressive ngl)

yes bato act dumb and pretty we fully support lying and trickery in this household

also I’m placing my bets on zuko returning at the most inconvenient time in the most dramatic way possible fyi (and I’m going to eat it up bc I live for dramatic zuko)

uh yeah jet bby you’re definitely ashamed of what you did hate to break it to you HOWEVER I really do get why jet did do what he did bc he’s traumatised and also a teenager and so he was never going to think maturely and rationally (which like yes obvi that means he caused the problem BUT ALSO it’s not his fault he’s problematic) I just really need him to get some therapy dude

OKAY can I just say I love you showing toph as being affectionate outside of playful physical aggression?? it’s been ages since I’ve read a fic where toph has shown some form of affection that hasn’t been a punch in the arm! and I feel like that’s so important bc in the show most of the female characters are insanely talented in the art of combat and so often they then get reduce to Just being aggressive (like toph) or being overly emotional (like katara which is super ironic considering the ember island players tragic performance and how that was supposed to actively argue against katara being so one dimensional) WHEN REALLY they ARE BOTH tough and have feelings bc they’re literally human beings

yeah I have many opinions oops

I FEEL SO VINDICATED I LOVE YOU KATARA AND YOUR BIG SMART BRAIN she’s such a good actor my heart is squeezing in satisfaction oh lordy

shit. appa. fuck. goddamnit. REALLY?

omg this is so not gonna happen but imagine if zuko turned up in ba sing se and then all communication Issues are solved and he can help find appa like in the show :D

well not all communication issues but a fuck ton of them

YES RASU he’s such an icon I actually love him with my whole entire heart my flirty baby boy

lmao zuko had a crush on rasu

same.

shit. idk why but it’s so jarring to have be explicitly said that zukos death (even tho it’s fake news) is a casualty of war. like OBVIOUSLY but to have it put so bluntly is like damn. it’s like as a casualty of war, it matters fuck all that he was a prince or why he was hunting the avatar and everything that made (makes) him integral to the war effort bc in reality he really just is another kid who died in the war. and then THAT just makes you think, yeah he’s not all that special because the horrific reality is that so many people were casualties of the war and while they’re anonymous numbers on a large scale, in life they Mattered and now it’s all for naught. jesus crispy sreedie you’ve really got me grieving

FUCK YEHA QUON IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE HES DISMISSING JETS INTEL ALL BY HIMSELF THIS IS A WIN TEAM

sokkaaaa now is not the time to be bad at readying facial cues T-T

aang has so much more emotional maturity than people give him credit for fr. like there’s no way in hell I would’ve been able to regulate my emotions half as well as aang when I was 12 even WITHOUT factoring in the genocide of his nation

holy shit reho DESERVES SO MUCH FUCKING LOVE I WILL PERSONALLY FIGHT EVERYONE WHO DARES TO INSULT HIM AFTER THIS

also he’s so fucking wise “evil people don’t only belong to one nation, they are everywhere” LIKE PREACH they really fucking are war provides a platform for the worst people to shine

real talk if shen dies I’m gonna be devastated

ohoho nice like fic name drop right here

omg not zuko popping up at the MOST convenient time in the least dramatic way possible??? shocked but also not surprised bc it’s making perfect sense narrative wise

wheezing at zuko being consistently unpredictable bc ykw the only reason nobody can figure out what he’s planning is bc my boy simply does not have one!! ever!! and it’s legend behaviour actually I think it might be the reason he’s my fav character

okay okay okay at least sokka and zuko have bato with them for child wrangling purposes bc they need an adult. but oh no hakoda is aloooone

zuko you dumbass motherfucker did you just SURRENDER YOURSELF

ykw I take back what I said about him never having a plan being my fav thing about him I have come to my senses and have reconsidered.

ZUKKA KISS??? it’s tragic.

it’s so fucked up that ara and sokka are gonna become friends again bc their bfs got taken hostage but I’m here for it

HOLY FUCK SHIT YEAH SUKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

MAI AND TY-LEE OMG MY GIRLS ALL MY GIRLS ARE COMING ITS HAPPENING ITS NOT A DRILL OMG SREEDIE YOU DONT UNDERSTAND IM GOING FERAL

A Z U L A

okay so obviously appa is under lake lagoli right

and yes I’m very relieved that shen and zuko are together at least BC NOW WE CAN GET SOME MORE QUALITY BANTER AND THATS ENOUGH COMPENSATION FOR THE TRAUMA RIGHT

RIGHT??

reunion soon :3

anyways why did I think this would actually end okay with zukka and bato off frolicking to ba sing se?? how am I that delusional?? it’s like I don’t know you

I HOPE YOU TAKE A REFRESHING NAP AND RECOVER FROM THIS DOOZY OF A FINALE BUT ALSO I AM WAITING IN ANXIOUS ANTICIPATION FOR THE NEXT BOOK ITS GOING TO BE THE LONGEST AND MOST HORRIFIC JOURNEY TO A ZUKKA REUNION EVER AND I CANNOT WAIT also bc you don’t write zuko pov that means we’re gonna get a lot more shen pov?? which I think will be really fun so that’s exciting too

LOVE YOU TO BITS AND PIECES

leekie <3

OH MY GOSH, if you keep flirting with me we might just have to tear up our divorce papers and move in together.

Hahah Hakoda’s reaction to the watchtower is exactly how I envisioned it. Sarcastic & pretend shock lol.

Katara’s honesty is finally catching up with her, getting her in trouble with the Dai Li that is. But she is a strong girl and she can hold her own, I know she’ll be ok!

Ok I love that you brought up toph because sometimes I feel like fics make her out to be a lie detecting, punching, sarcastic person and just leave it at that. But she is so much more than that, all the female characters are! I hope I can do them justice.

Zuko does have a plan!!! “Don’t let Sokka get hurt” - that’s it, that’s the plan. Haha.

I hope Shen doesn’t die… but also, I can’t make any promises.

SUKI IS ON THE WAY TO HELP SOKKA!!! & azula is on the way to bomb him lol.

Im sure it’ll be fine, I love you! You’re amazing. But I also hate you because we are divorced and GRRRRRRR, but secretly we’re still hooking up and it pretty obvious but shhhh don’t tell anyone. ;)

:D

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

Ten Terrifying Questions with Luke Arnold!

Luke Arnold was born in Australia and has spent the last decade acting his way around the world, playing iconic roles such as Long John Silver in the Emmy-winning Black Sails and his award-winning turn as Michael Hutchence in the INXS mini-series Never Tear Us Apart. When he isn’t performing, Luke is a screenwriter, director, novelist and ambassador for Save the Children Australia. He is also the author of the Fetch Phillips fantasy series.

Today, to celebrate the release of the latest Fetch Phillips book, One Foot in the Fade, Luke Arnold is on the blog to take on our Ten Terrifying Questions! Read on …

1. To begin with, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself – where were you born? Raised? Schooled?

I was born in Adelaide and spent my primary school years in the Adelaide Hills, which were really pretty ideal for that time of my life. Our house was at the bottom of a cul-de-sac street where every home had a kid close to my age, a dog, a place to build a cubby and, over time, either a Sega or Nintendo system. I moved to Sydney for High School until year 11, then I finished up on the Sunshine Coast, before heading over to WAAPA in Perth to study acting. All the moving around likely prepared me for the unpredictable life that would come from being in the arts.

2. What did you want to be when you were twelve, eighteen and thirty? And why?

At twelve, I wanted to write and draw comics. I loved writing stories and did art classes after school, so creating comic books seemed like the perfect combination of my passions.

At eighteen, I was deciding whether to train to be a writer or an actor. I was working my first job in the film industry, behind the scenes, and had applied to writing courses, film school and WAAPA. The lead actor in the film I was working on told me that writers and directors generally have happier lives than actors, and my principal told me that I was a great writer but a terrible actor so I should definitely go do writing or directing. Despite all advice to the contrary, I ended up going to drama school and I don’t regret it at all. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up so I didn’t leave the country until acting started taking me around the world.

At thirty, Never Tear Us Apart, where I played Michael Hutchence, had just aired and I was working on a brilliant pirate show called Black Sails. I loved performing both of those roles, it left me feeling creatively fulfilled as an actor for the first time, so I felt I was ready to get back into developing my own work.

3. What strongly held belief did you have at eighteen that you don’t have now?

For better or worse, I’ve never been one to firmly believe in much of anything. I’ve always been aware of my own naivete and try to stay open to having my world turned on its head. My parents instilled that at an early age. Rather than enforce a particular view of the world, they promoted openness, malleability and curiosity. There are some downsides to this though. A strong world view and set of beliefs can help propel you through the world, but I don’t mind the fact that I can look at most accepted ideas, rules, or ways of doing things and think “yeah, but what if it’s all nonsense?”

4. What are three works of art – this could be a book, painting, piece of music, film, etc – that influenced your development as a writer?

The Big Sleep – Both the book by Raymond Chandler and the film starring Humphry Bogart. My Dad recorded it off the TV when I was young and after we watched it together on some rainy Sunday, I was hooked. It inspired me to go back through classic cinema, and then follow the influences of film noir through Chinatown, Blade Runner, and beyond. Those films clearly set the foundations for the Sunder City series, while also pushing me towards a career in cinema. The Chandler books would have also been some of the first adult books I read, opening up a world of literature outside the school library.

Return to Oz – This is a weird one but, like a lot of those children’s films from the 80’s and 90’s – things like The Witches, The Peanut Butter Solution, The Never Ending Story – it really got under my skin. There was something about seeing the yellow brick road shattered into pieces that woke my little brain up to mortality, aging and impermanence. Or at least showed me a story that expressed those complex feelings that were bubbling up inside but I was as yet incapable of grasping, let alone expressing myself. The fact that the characters were inexplicably different from the first film, and the continuity was all over the place, only added to the nightmarish quality of the whole thing. Horror filmmakers have to work really hard to create the kind of existential terror that film activated in my little mind.

Sesame Street – It‘s probably the most important TV show ever made. I love to go back and watch old episodes and I’m constantly awed at the creativity, care and respect that the program has for its viewers. It’s educational but also so full of joy, humour, heartfelt sincerity and perfectly crafted nonsense. It’s truly one of humanity’s greatest creations and it features a bunch of googly-eyed puppets that we all, in some part of our brain, believe are real. There is no doubt that the sensibilities, rhythms, poetry, humour and heart of that show imprinted on my brain at an early age, and I’m sure I’m a better person for it.

‘These books aren’t really designed to make you slam down the back cover with a smile on your face and jump online to write a glowing review, but I hope that there are enough moments where the reader feels connected to Fetch’s inner world and relates to his hope and his pain.’

5. Considering the many artistic forms out there, what appeals to you about writing a novel?

I love that – for the most part – I can do it on my own. The beauty of the film industry is that it’s collaborative. You get hundreds of dedicated specialists and bring all their brilliant hands and minds together on one project. But getting to that point is an arduous task that, more often than not, eventuates in an unproduced script sitting in a drawer. I’m never short of ideas and have ambitions in a variety of mediums, but most of them require other people to come on board early, and bring money, skills and support. With a novel, I can be anywhere in the world, without any special equipment, and get to work. And when it’s done, I can give it to someone else and they can enjoy it as it’s intended. They don’t need to imagine a film crew bringing it to life, or a great piano player underscoring it, or a brilliant artist rendering what I’ve described. It’s just my imagination dancing with theirs.

6. Please tell us about your latest novel!

One Foot in the Fade is the third book in the Fetch Phillips Archives, following The Last Smile in Sunder City and Dead Man in a Ditch. They are set in a fantasy world where, six years ago, the magic faded from existence. For two books, Fetch Phillips has been working as a Man for Hire, trying to do a little bit of good in a broken world, dealing with the fallout of the catastrophe and the complicated process of what they will build from the ashes. In this third book, he breaks out of his usual alcohol-fuelled self-loathing routine and kicks things up a notch. An angel has fallen on the streets of Sunder City, as if dropped from a great height; higher than any of the nearby buildings. Fetch sets out to discover how an angel might have flown without magic, and the case sends him out of the city on the kind of adventure that he thought this world had left behind.

These books are a mix of noir and fantasy, and while the first two are mostly urban crime novels in a dystopian magical setting, this one flirts with a more traditional magical quest.

7. What do you hope people take away with them after reading your work?

That’s a tough one because it’s never any specific thought or realisation, more of a mood. And it’s tough again because this series is noir, and noir has an inherent level of dissatisfaction. These books aren’t really designed to make you slam down the back cover with a smile on your face and jump online to write a glowing review, but I hope that there are enough moments where the reader feels connected to Fetch’s inner world and relates to his hope and his pain. He is a mess of a man but, despite his trauma and his vices and his self-doubt and self-loathing, he’s trying to work out what he can do to put some good back into a broken world rather than just be part of the problem.

8. Who do you most admire in the writing world and why?

I’m bad with absolutes, so I’ll just say that someone I’m in awe of right now is Donald Glover. Atlanta is a phenomenal piece of art that perfectly balances social commentary and drama with humour, surrealism and irreverence. It is clearly a very personal piece that deals with a specific lived experience but is also universally accessible and relatable. There is a boldness and confidence that makes you want to dig into the surreal elements to find out what they might be hinting at, but even when you don’t know the context it’ll get under your skin and into your head. It’s always interesting to watch an artist who isn’t afraid to reinvent themselves and push beyond what they or anyone else has done before.

9. Many artists set themselves very ambitious goals. What are yours?

Every piece of art is ambitious. Most stuff doesn’t work and even when it does, usually nobody cares anyway. I’m in the middle of a bunch of projects now – mostly things I can’t yet announce – in mediums that are completely new to me, and I really just try to deal with what’s in front of me at any given time. I’m working towards bringing my experience as a writer and actor together, creating more of my own projects in different fields, but there’s no particular place in the future I’m trying to get to. If I get to work on interesting projects with friendly, talented people, then I’m going to continue to be happy.

10. Do you have any advice for aspiring writers?

This advice works for all creative industries and probably most things in life. Your main reward for doing something well is the opportunity to do more of that thing. Don’t do something because you think it will get you to a place where you can be someone else or live some other kind of life. Do the thing you want to do. When you have to sit alone all day pulling ideas out of your head to get something down on paper, know that even if you’re successful, the praise and prizes will be fleeting and you’ll soon have to go back in that room alone again to do some more work. So make sure you write the thing that, when people tell you they want more, you’ll be happy to write again. Write about the things that keep you up at night, write them the way you want to write them, and then when people want more of what you offer, you only have to look inside yourself to see what comes next.

Thank you for playing!

—One Foot in the Fade by Luke Arnold (Hachette Australia) is out now.

Source: Booktopia Australia

[sparkles-and-trash]

The Gaang are Roommates AU ~

note: this is a rewrite and repost of my old roommates au, there was some stuff I wanted to change, and I wanted to make the parts a little longer, so yeah, ta-dah! 

- think modern setting in the canon universe, bending is still a thing 

- the Gaang are all in going to Ba Sing Se University 

- I’m gonna change the ages a bit to make it easier for myself, sorry 

- Zuko, Sokka, Suki and Mai are 20, Katara, Ty Lee and Azula are 19, Aang, Toph and Yue are 18

- so, Zuko, Sokka, Katara, Aang and Toph end up living together in a big loft type apartment 

- Sokka and Aang are old best friends, they met Toph in Middle School, and Katara is a natural part of the group 

- until now Sokka and Katara have both been living in the dorms, and they both hate it intensely 

- but now that Aang and Toph are also in uni, they all decide to move in together!

- …but the only problem is that the only place they find that they like is just out of their price rage (Toph’s parents aren’t supportive of her major so they’re not helping out much)

- enter: ~ Zuko ~

- so, Zuko has been living with his uncle Iroh since his Father, who’s a high up in some big and important company the Fire Nation, disowned him for speaking up against the company’s shifty treatment of workers and ruining a lot of sacred land etc 

- they’re still firebenders and the scar still happened, not in an Agni Kai, but it happened 

- but after Zuko started uni, Iroh really tried to push him to meet some people his own age and make some friends

- the only people Zuko talks to on the regular besides Iroh is Azula, Ty Lee and Mai, and Mai is the only one who is like, his friend yanno?

- the last year the deal was that if Zuko didn’t branch out, Iroh would have him live one year with other students

- it’s his idea of tough love 

- Zuko tried to do some random kid’s homework to have them pretend to be his new friend in front of Iroh so he wouldn’t have to, but Iroh can tell he’s lying so easily 

- so, Zuko ends up hearing about the Gaang through Mai, who heard from Ty Lee, who plays field hockey, Suki, who’s best friends with Sokka

- so, he goes to meet them, and it’s so awkward mY GOD

- Katara is a B I G environmental activist and HATES Ozai and his company, with good reason

- she eases up a tad when Zuko admits to being turned away from as a teen, but she is still suspicious

- Aang loves him right away, ofc, and that makes Katara even more suspicious because she’s pretty protective of Aang

- she claims it’s because he’s so kind and believes everyone but she totally liikeees hiiiim

- Toph is just like, sure, as long as he pays his rent idgaf

- Sokka is weirdly quiet, because he’s had a huge crush on Zuko forever, and the only one who knows is Aang (and Toph but she ain’t no snitch)

- so, ya boy makes the cut, and before they know it, it’s move-in day!

- but, the idiots didn’t think through the facts that it’s only three bedrooms oops

- and Toph is NOT afraid to pull the “I’m blind and I need my space” card

- and nobody’s up to fight her on it, so 

- let’s just say there is A LOT of back and forth, but with Katara refusing to room with her brother again, and Zuko being rightfully scared of Katara, it ends up with Zuko and Sokka sharing a bedroom, and Katara and Aang

- they have separate beds ofc

- but still, tension, man, so much tension

- it takes a while, but the dynamics starts working out really well

- Zuko is good at grocery shopping and likes to clean, and Aang is always happy to help him out

- Sokka loves cooking, so he does that a lot

- Katara is always on top of the others with schoolwork and making sure everyone is okay, and she usually does it in genius, sneaky ways so people doesn’t even notice that she does it

- Toph is clearing the air off bullshit

- like, she will call a bitch out

- but because she cares about said bitch

- so, Aang knows that Sokka has a crush on Zuko because Sokka told him in a weak moment, and Toph knows because she just knows

- Aang is a good friend tho, and he tries to like, ease them together

- but he is so awkward about it, the poor thing, and Zuko doesn’t understand AT ALL

- Toph is just sitting back and sighing a lot

- Katara doesn’t understand either but she just stays out of it (smart girl)

- but okay, we know how oblivious Zuko can be right?

- Sokka can give him googly eyes and blush and stutter around him so much and he still has no clue at all

- Zuko starts thinking Sokka just doesn’t like him at all

- but then one night Zuko has this really intense nightmare

- okay and quick addition, his scar is… handshaped? Like, you can clearly tell what happened to him

- but nobody talks about it, yet

- but then he’s having a terrible nightmare and is talking and begging and pleading in his sleep

- so much that Sokka wakes up

- and he catches on pretty fast, but had no idea what to do

- so he just shuffles over to Zuko’s side of the room and starts tapping his shoulder rapidly

- but nothing happens

- so he just… gently and awkwardly pats his head until Zuko wakes up

- and Zuko is like… wat u doin there bro

- and Sokka is like… just patting ur head to wake you from a nightmare bro

- and they awkwardly just mumble and go back to their beds

- but Zuko is smiling a lot because someone who’s not his family or a family friend really cares about him

- after that, Zuko slowly starts opening up to all of them, but Sokka especially 

- he never really tells them about being cast out and burned tho

- until one day he kinda casually slings it into a convo all fast and awkwardly

- it’s just Toph, Aang and Sokka there

- Toph yells so WHAATTT so loudly and just metalbends the whole fridge into a clump in rage

- Aang cries lmao but he tries to hide to and be supportive and not awkward

- Sokka is kinda quiet, but he carefully asks about it that night when they’re in their beds, and they talk a little about it

- Aang tells Katara (with permission) and she awkwardly, but wholeheartedly tells him that he can always talk to her

- they do that «awkward sibling hug» from Gravity Falls after

- *hugs stiffly* «pat, pat»

- but okay, Toph and metalbending when angry, it happens quite a lot 

- this was the first time it was the fridge, but the toaster, the microwave, and several other appliances have met the same fate

- everyone is kinda used to it now, and she always replaces it

- except Zuko, who’s still kinda new to them all

- but what are you supposed to say when your new friends is so outraged by the abuse you went through that they crush a whole ass fridge?

- it actually reminds him that he’s cared for here, by these people who owe him nothing, and is not related to him, and it makes him a little dizzy to have people care this way

- he casually mentions it to his Uncle Iroh the time he’s in at work, that his new friend is a metalbender and squashed their whole fridge when she was pissed on his behalf

- Iroh is thrilled

- to the point of offering Toph a job lmao

- Toph, desperate to cut of as much ties with her family and be as self-sufficient as possible, agrees

- and now Iroh have two formerly rich kids with no clue about any sort of customer service and basic stuff like that working for him

- Toph is a hard worker tho, and she and Zuko work surprisingly well together

- Katara is a little relived, because the more those two work, the less are the chances of either of them trying to cook or do too many chores around their apartment

- they mean well, or, Zuko does, but he does so much dumb shit when trying to help lmao

- Sokka starts spending a lot of time over at The Jasmine Drago too

- Aang is still trying to keep the fact that Sokka likes Zuko a secret, but he is having trouble

- Katara is his biggest weakness, and now they’re suddenly alone with her a lot

- someone else who could always read Sokka really well is Suki

. whom he used date in high school, but they parted as friends and everything s cool

- but Sokka is a little taken aback when she comes into The Jasmine Dragon one day, hand in hand with Sokka’s childhood crush obsession, Yue

- for the first time in man’s memory, Sokka is a little speechless

- and Suki’s like “lmao dude I haven’t seen you like this since the first time you saw Zu-”

- cue Zuko popping out behind them like “WELCOME TO THE JASMINE DRAGON FRIENDS OF SOKKA :D”

- Sokka is so fucking red, poor boy is just about having an aneurism at this point

- but luckily something happens and Zuko gets distracted

- Suki is having the time of her life tho, Sokka always used to tease her for her crushes before and after they dated, and suddenly, here they are

- at the apartment, Aang decides they need some apartment traditions

- they’ve been living there for almost three months, after all

- so he decides that weekly movie nights are mandatory

- so are pillowforts

- Katara is actually really excited for it, she loves all things cozy and fall-like

- also… she is weak for Aang, y’all, and she loves seeing him all excited

- Zuko barely knows what a pillowfort is, he didn’t think real people actually made it

- but imagine these dorks in a pillowfort with hot chocolate and lot’s of pillows

- Toph claims that she thinks it’s soo dumb, but she will always make sit in the middle of the group all wrapped in her blanket and laughing when the others jump and get spooked from the horror movies Sokka always wants to watch

- and she will make sure the fort is right and perfect lmao

- Zuko is a little awkward about it at first, but he likes it too

- Sokka always manages to plop in next to Zuko lmao

- they haven’t talked about the head patting incident yet, but Zuko is def starting to feel the butterflies

- one time after a movie night Sokka falls asleep on Zuko’s shoulder, after the others have left for the night

- Zuko can’t resist waking him up with awkward head pats similar to the one Sokka used on him

- Sokka thinks he died and went to heaven lmao

- but then he fully wakes and sees Zuko’s shit eating grin and can’t help but laugh at the whole thing

- and Zuko has his “oh no he’s hot beautiful and I really adore him” moment

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.

[hispipsqueak]

Just One Time

Asahi x F!Reader - NSFW

TW: Angsty, cheating, scumbag reader, manipulation, pregnancy trapping, unprotected sex, sugar daddy Asahi, age gap (reader in mid twenties tho not specified) Asahi in 50′s, unprotected sex, daddy kink

WC: 2.5K

Summary: Asahi’s in a bad marriage and you are there to liven it up...or are you?

A/N: I woke up today and chose violence I guess. @cozykozume and @hiskittyyywrites​ read this and yelled at me so if you want to yell, I feel that. This started off as a sugar daddy Asahi fic but....we got this instead. Also I really want to hug Asahi. I apologize in advance.

All characters are 18+

It was only supposed to be one time.

Fuck.

It wasn’t even supposed to be one time.

Asahi wasn’t sure how the hell he ended up like this. You were hired to work on his show, doing makeup for the models. His job in the fashion industry put him around beautiful men and women every day, dressing them and posing them. Hell, he saw them naked and yet you, just you sitting there sipping on the glass of champagne at the after party for yet another successful campaign launch had his stomach in knots.

You smirked into your glass as you saw the older designer not so subtly watching you from across the room. Standing up you walked over to the tall man and placed a hand on his chest.

“Great show Mr. Azumane.” You smiled at him. You could feel him tense under his button up shirt.

“Uh, oh you can just call me Asahi. Y-yeah, you did an excellent job on their makeup as well. Your name is Y/N right?” 

You laughed, “Oh it’s so sweet you remembered. Most designers never pay attention to the crew...though you are certainly not like most designers.” With this, you slid your hand down his chest. “You’re so built for a fashion designer too.”

Asahi’s face reddened, and he choked on his drink.

“Uh, I uh, used to play volleyball a lot...and work out and stuff...sort of.” He stammered out and you let out another flirty giggle. 

“Clearly. You look amazing. Is there anything you can’t do?” 

Asahi was hyper aware of your hand on his chest roaming toward his bicep. Your nails grazed his skin. You gazed into his eyes and winked, before finishing your drink and putting the empty glass on the shelf behind him.

“Well...I guess I’m going to head out. Would you walk me out? I’m a little tipsy.”

The next thing you knew, you and Asahi were in the bathroom, his mouth on your neck. Your dress was tugged down below your chest and his fingers made quick work of your bra, throwing it across the room. He groped your tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples. You moaned out and he clapped his hand over your mouth.

“Shh...we can’t get caught.” His dark eyes stared into yours and yours widened.

“Of course.”

 Your eyes fell to the silver band on his left hand and your heart raced. Yes of course sleeping with an older married man was probably going to send you to hell, but fuck...it was hot.

You could see him becoming unsure, so you slid your hands to his belt, undoing it before dropping to your knees. You gazed up at him, doe-eyed and Asahi’s resolve crumbled, as he nodded. Your fingers grazed his boxer-clad member.

“Fuck, you’re so big. Can’t wait to taste you.” You whispered, pressing a kiss against his lower abs.

Asahi groaned out as you pulled out his cock, stroking him. Your other hand cupped his balls and he bit his lip to stifle his moan. Slipping him into your mouth, you swirled your tongue around the tip, keeping your eyes locked on his.

“Fuck that f-feels incredible.” Asahi’s panted out. He placed his hands above your head, nervous to put any pressure on you. You grinned.

“You can touch me. Let me take care of you daddy.” 

You took him further down your throat, and his hands fell to your hair as you bobbed up and down his cock. You moaned around him, the vibrations causing him to grip your hair tightly.

“F-fuck Y/N. You feel amazing. You’re so good.” Asahi muttered, his eyes closed. It had been so long, too fucking long since someone had worshipped him like this. Your mouth was divine and your moans caused his whole body to tremble. He could feel your throat clench around his cock, as you took him impossibly deeper and he looked down at you. Your eyes were glassy, your lipstick was smudged and you looked so incredibly lewd as you swallowed around his cock.

“Want to make you feel good. Let me have you.” Asahi grunted, pulling you up and bending you over the sink. You met his eyes in the mirror as he lined himself up with your entrance, before digging around in his slacks.

“Shit, condom. What…” He started. You giggled. 

“Don’t worry, I’m on the pill.”

You could see the hesitation in his eyes. You arched your back more and looked up at him.

“Please, daddy?”

Fuck it. Asahi sunk into you and you pressed your hand over your mouth. The stretch burned, and you felt like you were being split in half on his cock. He towered over you as he continued pushing his length into you and finally stilled to a stop.

“You okay?” He asked, seeing your body quivering in the mirror. You grinded your hips slowly as a response, stretching yourself on him. As you moved, the pain subsided until all you felt was pleasure. Seeing you work yourself on his cock had Asahi feral. His hands kneaded your ass and hips, feeling how your body begged for him and craved his touch,

“God, beautiful. You take me so well. You’re so fucking perfect.” He whispered out, slowly pumping himself into you. He looked in the mirror as he fucked you, watched as your lips parted to spill moans that sounded like heaven to his ears. He could see your tits bounce with every thrust and it spurred him on even more. He knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn’t be fucking a girl twenty years younger than him in a bathroom at his party but when you looked up at him in the mirror, your eyeliner running down your cheeks and begged for daddy to fuck you harder, well he could only thrust into you faster and harder.

The sound of slapping skin filled the small room, only broken up by soft pants from both of you in an attempt to keep quiet, though you were failing. You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and felt yourself slamming towards your peak as well.

“I’m so close, so close angel.” Asahi mumbled, his hand clutching the counter so tightly you were sure it would break.

“Cum inside me, fill me up. Fuck fuck FUCK!”, you moaned out as your cunt clenched around his cock. His hips stuttered and you felt him shoot his load deep inside your hole. You could feel his cock throbbing as it filled you, and he could feel the fluttering of your pussy as it sucked every drop out of him.

The two of you collapsed in a heap on the counter, and as you cleaned yourself up, you placed a quick kiss on his cheek before sneaking out of the room. Asahi ran some cold water, splashed his face, and tried to bury the memory of this occurrence.

It was just supposed to be one time.

But when he got home to a dark house, he couldn’t help but be consumed by thoughts of you. He quietly slipped into his bedroom, praying his wife wouldn’t suspect a thing. He undressed, slipping into bed.

“Sorry I’m so late, the party ran pretty…”

“Can you just hush? I’m trying to sleep and you have to be so loud.” his wife snapped, turning her back to him.

Asahi mumbled a soft apology, and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Asahi, seriously I’m not in the fucking mood, can you just go to bed?” She shrugged him off. He turned to stare at the ceiling.

It was just one time...right?

Days passed and he tried to push past the guilt he felt by going out of his way for his wife. He set up a reservation for a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant in the city, The owner had a daughter who was apparently a big fan of Asahi’s designs so he was able to pull some strings and get a table. 

“Hey honey, I got us reservations for dinner tonight. You can wear that pretty red dress I like.” He smiled at her. She didn’t look up from her phone.

“I hate that dress. Why are we even going out? That place is ridiculously expensive.” 

Asahi felt his face get hot.

“W-well okay, what would you like to do tonight?”

Still fiddling with her phone, she shrugged.

“Why do we have to do anything? We aren’t young people. God, you don’t get enough partying with your little fashion stuff?” 

Asahi looked down at the floor.

“The place was pretty hard to get in. We really should go.” He stammered out, hoping she would change her mind.

She yawned. “Can’t you just take someone from work or something?”

-----

That was how one time turned to two.

Asahi couldn’t help it. You were so...fun. You hung onto his every word, asking him questions and laughing at his jokes. Your hands were always on him, his thighs, his arms, his chest. You looked at him like he hung the moon.

In turn, he loved spoiling you, lavishing you with high fashion pieces, unreleased from his collection. His guilt for not spending all his time with you led to him making up for it in material goods, which you definitely didn’t mind.

And the sex. God the sex.

You worshipped his cock, begged for him to ruin you. You were adventurous, letting him take control of you, teasing him in public, your fingers grazing his cock through his slacks, shooting him flirty looks as he blushed furiously.

Two times turned into five times, which soon led to a full blown affair. Asahi “worked late” so often, he was sure he’d be caught, but his house was always dark when he came home, his wife in bed asleep.

Yet, his phone had pictures of you, pictures you had taken in his clothes, in the lingerie he bought you that cost more than some people’s entire outfits.

His body still thought about you, the faces you made as you pleaded for his cock. He could imagine the chanting of “daddy” that fell from your lips as he fucked you brainless. Many nights, like tonight, he headed to his shower just to jack off to pictures and videos of your escapades. Your breathy moans filled his ear buds as he gripped the wall, imagining your writhing body underneath him, your warm cunt clamping down on his cock instead of his hand.

He came with a groan, cum splattering on the tile wall. Breathing hard, he turned the hot water on full blast.

Coming down, he watched the water wash his mess down the drain. He hated this feeling, the aftermath of his actions. Knowing his wife was asleep in the next room while he was getting off to his side piece. What kind of man was he? Yes, things had been not so great with his wife recently. But he still loved her...right?

Even if he didn’t want to answer that question and unpack that whole mess, she deserved respect. Not a husband who snuck around behind her back. He had to decide.

His eyes cast themselves down to his wedding band. It felt heavy on his hand.

He had to end things with you.

----

“Y/N, we need to talk.” Asahi’s voice shook, as he sipped his glass of water. The two of you were at his studio, a place he knew his wife would never be at. He hadn’t wanted to be in public when he broke the news to you so he invited you over, though now he was a little nervous to be alone with you.

“Asahi, I feel the same way.” You looked at him, biting your lip.

He breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. This was fun but I feel terrible and I really need to work things out with my wife…”

Your eyes narrowed.

“What are you talking about?” There was an edge to your voice, something he hadn’t heard coming from you.

Asahi’s dark eyes widened. “U-uh, this affair? We need to end it. Isn’t that what you meant?” His voice stammered as he watched your arms cross over yourself.

“Asahi, I’m pregnant.”

The room started spinning. The overhead lighting became harsh and he felt like he was underwater as those words repeated in his brain.

Pregnant....pregnant...pregnant

“Wh- what?! What about the pill?” He practically yelped, his face heating up. 

“It didn’t work I guess. I’m carrying your baby...and you’re trying to leave me?” You asked, your voice rising as you stood up. 

“I’m not trying to, I mean, I’m, I…” Asahi fumbled his words.

“You just said you want to work things out with ‘your wife’.” You spat the words out in disgust.

“I didn’t know you were pregnant! Are you...are we…?” He trailed off, looking at your stomach, which obviously had no visible changes and yet had visibly changed everything.

“Are you asking me if I’m keeping our baby?” Your eyes widened and Asahi could feel your anger seeping through the air. He quickly shook his head, desperately trying to diffuse the situation.

“No, no I’m n– I just meant...what should I do?” Asahi’s mouth went dry. His body felt like it was going to explode and he wanted the earth to swallow him, anything to get him out of this situation.

“You’re going to help me raise our child, Asahi. It’s our baby.” Your voice was cold. No longer the carefree, fun person he knew but instead a disconnected stranger, who he was now tied to forever.

Asahi put his head in his hands. He was ruined. His marriage was over. And now he was a father, at the ripe old age of 50 to a 20-something year old’s baby. This couldn’t be happening.

He felt your hands touch his shoulder and he looked up at you. Your eyes glittered with a look he couldn’t identify. 

“We have some announcements to make, don’t we daddy?” You smiled at him. He stared into space, before taking your hand and following you out the door.

Your heart soared as you prepared on how to tell his wife that she’d be moving out. Maybe you weren’t pregnant yet, but he didn’t have to know that. It’s not like you wouldn’t be soon enough.

After all, it was never just one time.