#LIKE ADULTS MIGHT WANT TO KNOW TOO?????????? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vibelladonna · 20 hours ago

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✑ 𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓈𝓊𝒾𝓉 𝜗𝜚 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒, 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑔𝑒𝑜

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Who doesn’t love a good bunny suit fanfic? This little piece was inspired by the incredible artwork of @alienfreak124. I’m always in awe of her creations—her OC is so cool! Honestly, every time I see her work, I wish I had the talent to draw. T-T Always wanted to see what my OC would look like in the Tkatb fandom.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.

Also, I’ve been thinking about branching out into other fandoms—Creepypasta is definitely at the top of the list since it was such a huge part of my childhood. Ticci Toby has always been my favorite, and I’m super excited to dive into that world. I’m also considering Death Note and Black Butler, but who knows?

For now, I’m pretty set on exploring the creepy side first, especially with all the dark, twisted fandoms.

Anyway, I’ve got about three fics in the works for these lovely men—Crowe, Sol, and Geo. But it’s gonna be one day at a time because, let’s be real, I need to stop posting these things so damn late. College life is getting hectic, but I’m making it work, even if it means less sleep. Priorities, right?

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

✑ 𝒸𝓇𝑜𝓌𝑒

You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a plain black dress.

It’s simple, safe, and exactly the kind of outfit you’d usually wear to a small party. You tilt your head, trying to decide if “simple” is too boring. The party isn’t exactly a big deal—just a casual gathering—but there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind:

Crowe’s going to be there.

Before you can overthink it, there’s a sudden knock at your door. “Hey! Open up!” Brittney’s voice is unmistakable—high-energy and impossible to ignore. You sigh, already knowing she’s about to upend whatever plans you’ve made for the evening.

When you open the door, Brittney bursts in like a hurricane, her arms overflowing with what looks like… fur? No, it’s worse. It’s a bunny costume—a black bodysuit with matching ears, thigh high socks, and heels so high they look like a twisted form of punishment.

“Oh no,” you say immediately, holding up your hands in protest. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on!” Brittney waves the outfit in front of you like it’s the Holy Grail. “It’s perfect! It’s fun, it’s flirty, and you’ll steal the spotlight! Imagine the look on everyone’s faces when you walk in wearing this. Especially Jericho.”

Your stomach flips at the mention of his name, but you shake your head. “There’s no way I’m wearing that. I’ll look ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?” Brittney scoffs, planting her hands on her hips. “Please. You’ll look hot. Besides, when was the last time you did something bold? Live a little!” She leans in, grinning mischievously. “And, you know, like I said he might notice.”

You roll your eyes, before releasing a sigh, “Britt, I’m not trying to ‘steal the spotlight.’ I just want to blend in.”

“Blend in?” She gasps like you’ve just insulted her personally. “Blending in is for cowards. And you’re not a coward, are you?”

“...You’re guilt-tripping me.”

“Is it working?”

Unfortunately, yes. You stare at the bunny suit like it’s a wild animal that might bite you, but part of you can’t help wondering: What if Brittney’s right? What if Crowe actually notices?

“Fine,” you say, at last, snatching the costume from her hands. “But different heels and if I look stupid, I’m blaming you.”

Brittney claps her hands in triumph. “You’ll look amazing, trust me! Now, hurry up and get dressed—I need to see the final look.”

You sigh and shut the door, holding up the bunny suit with a mix of dread and curiosity.

This is either the best idea or the worst mistake.

The moment you step into the party, a hush falls over the room—or at least it feels like it. The warm glow of string lights strung across the ceiling doesn’t do much to soothe the nerves twisting in your stomach. You keep your head down, gripping a drink you barely remember picking up, and try to focus on anything other than the fact that you’re dressed like a bunny in a room full of people dressed... normally.

Brittney, of course, is loving every second of it. She’s practically glowing as she flits around the room, dropping comments like, “Isn’t she adorable?” and “Doesn’t she look amazing?” to anyone within earshot. You glare at her from across the room, but she just winks and mouths, “You’re welcome.”

You hover near the edge of the crowd, trying to blend into the background. It’s ironic, considering the ridiculous outfit, but you figure if you keep still enough, maybe no one will notice. That plan works for about five minutes—until you catch a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye.

Crowe.

He’s leaning against the wall near the bookshelf, casually sipping from a glass, his posture as effortlessly relaxed as ever. Even in the soft glow of the party lights, he’s sharp, dressed in his usual clean, put-together style that somehow manages to look both formal and casual at the same time. He always looks like he belongs on a magazine cover—button-up sleeves rolled neatly to his elbows, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he listens to someone talk.

You freeze, torn between retreating to the nearest shadowy corner and pretending you haven’t seen him, or... well, doing something else. But then, as if sensing your eyes on him, Crowe looks up—and the moment his gaze lands on you, it’s like the rest of the party fades into the background.

You brace yourself, half-expecting him to laugh or make some snide remark. Instead, his eyebrows lift slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirks up into what might just be the faintest hint of a smirk. He takes another sip of his drink, sets the glass down, and begins making his way toward you.

Oh no.

Before you can figure out an escape route, he’s standing in front of you, tall and composed, with that cool, unreadable expression that makes your heart do ridiculous things.

His expression is calm and unreadable, but there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that immediately sets you on edge. The drink in your hand suddenly feels useless as you clutch it tightly, wishing you had anything to focus on besides the way Crowe’s gaze is very obviously trailing over your bunny suit. Slowly.

“Nice to see you decided to... dress up,” he says, his tone dripping with amusement as he comes to a stop in front of you. His eyes flicker from your bunny ears to the tights and back to your face, where your mortified expression only seems to fuel his teasing.

“This wasn’t my idea,” you say quickly, feeling the need to defend yourself. “Britt made me wear it. She said it’ll steal the spotlight or whatever…”

Crowe raises a brow, “Britney suggested this..?” then soft smile appears once again as he leans just slightly closer. “Oh, I believe you. But she didn’t make you come to me wearing it, did she?”

You sputter, your face heating up. “I didn’t come to you! You walked over here!”

“Did I?” he asks innocently, his smirk widening into something outright devilish. “Must’ve been the bunny ears. Hard to miss.”

You glare at him, your mind racing for some kind of witty comeback, but it’s hard to think when his gaze keeps darting to your legs, the curve of your waist, and then back to your face, like he’s deliberately making a show of it.

“Well,” he says after a beat, his tone maddeningly casual. “She wasn’t wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. He did not just say that.

“Excuse me?”

“About the spotlight,” he clarifies, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. “You’ve certainly got everyone’s attention.”

You rolled your eyes, “I look ridiculous,” crossing your arms over your chest, turning your head away from his gaze.

It wasn’t long before you felt his finger under your chin to look at him once more, his deep blue eyes filled with warmth, “I wouldn’t say that now,” he counters smoothly. His voice drops a little lower, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. But I’m curious—how many people have tried their luck with you tonight?”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

You can’t decide whether to tell the truth to him or strangle him.

“Come on,” he says, his smirk turning positively wicked. “In that outfit? Like you said, half the room is staring. Though...” He leans in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “I doubt anyone else is appreciating it quite as much as I am.”

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure your face is about to burst into flames. “Crowe, you can’t just—”

“Say the truth?” he interrupts smoothly, stepping just close enough that you can catch the faint scent of his blueberry cologne. “Oh, I can. And I will.”

You open your mouth to argue, but before you can, Crowe’s gaze shifts, scanning the room. The teasing glint in his deep blue eyes is replaced with something sharper, almost protective, as he takes in the prying eyes of the other partygoers.

“It’s way too many people here,” Crowe mutters, his voice low enough that it feels like the words are meant only for him. Then he glances back at you, his eyes softening in a way that makes your breath hitch.

“Let’s leave.” He mumbled.

“What?”

“I said, let’s leave.” His hand brushes lightly against your elbow, the fleeting touch sending a spark up your arm. His gaze lingers on you, unreadable but heavy with something unspoken. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here and let everyone keep gawking at you like you’re... on display.”

Your eyes dart around the room, catching a few glimpses of the subtle but unmistakable stares in your direction. The air feels suffocating now, and the idea of staying in this crowded space seems unbearable. Still, you hesitate, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of his presence.

“Fine,” you say at last, forcing an air of nonchalance even as your pulse quickens. “But if you’re planning to tease me, I’m leaving the second you start.”

Crowe chuckles—a deep, smooth sound that does nothing to steady your nerves. “Don’t worry,” he says, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smirk as he places a hand lightly on the small of your back to guide you toward the door. “I’ll behave.”

You’re not entirely convinced, but before you can second-guess your decision, the two of you are stepping into the cool night air. The sharp contrast to the party’s stuffy warmth sends a shiver down your spine, but it’s not just the chill that has you trembling.

Crowe’s steps are deliberate, his presence magnetic as he walks you to his car. He unlocks the passenger door with a smooth motion, holding it open for you before rounding the car to slide into the driver’s seat. The quiet thud of the door closing feels heavier in the silence, the hum of the engine breaking the tension only slightly.

“Brittney’s going to wonder where I went,” you say softly, partly to yourself, as Crowe pulls out of the driveway.

“I’ll text her later,” he replies, his tone calm but firm. “She’ll survive.”

The car is dimly lit, the glow of passing streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his sharp features. You can feel his gaze flicking toward you every so often, lingering just long enough to make your skin tingle.

He doesn’t speak for a while, but the silence between you isn’t uncomfortable. It’s charged—like the air before a storm. You’re hyper-aware of every detail: the way his hands grip the steering wheel, the faint scent of his blueberry cologne filling the small space, the way his jaw tightens whenever you catch him sneaking glances.

“You shouldn’t let her talk you into things like that,” he says suddenly, his voice lower now, almost rough.

“Like what?” you ask, even though you know exactly what he means.

He glances at you briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line before his expression softens. “Like wearing something that makes every guy in the room look at you like they’ve forgotten how to think.”

The words are sharper than you expect, tinged with an edge of possessiveness that makes your breath catch.

“I thought you didn’t mind people staring,” you counter, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t,” he says, his fingers tightening on the wheel. “Unless it’s you.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and electrifying. You look over at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no teasing smirk now, no easy charm—just raw, unguarded honesty in his gaze as he pulls the car to a stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

He turns to face you fully, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something unmistakable.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, the words rough with restraint.

Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The heat in his gaze is overwhelming, and you feel pinned in place by the sheer intensity of it.

“I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he continues, his tone rough and uneven now, “but seeing you tonight, dressed like that, letting everyone else see you like that…” He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It drove me crazy.”

The air in the car feels thick, charged with an unspoken tension that’s almost suffocating. Your pulse pounds in your ears, your breaths shallow as you sit still, unsure of what to say—or if there’s even anything you should say. The silence stretches out, heavy and electric, until Crowe shifts closer to you, his movements deliberate yet almost hesitant.

His hand rises, and for a moment, you think he might stop midway. But then his fingers gently brush against your cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is light, almost feather-soft, yet it lingers—his fingertips trailing against your skin just long enough to leave a burning imprint.

“Please tell me to stop…” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, the faintest edge of uncertainty in his tone. “…before I do something I’ll regret.”

A shiver races up your spine at the feel of his touch, and the heat of his proximity makes it impossible to think straight. Your breath hitches, and you swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. You manage to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and searching, as though he’s looking for any sign of hesitation.

“And if I don’t want you to stop?” you whisper, your voice trembling but carrying a weight of undeniable desire.

His breath catches, his chest rising sharply as though you’ve just knocked the air out of him. His eyes widen, a flicker of disbelief flashing across his usually composed face. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to convince himself he heard you correctly.

You don’t reply right away—words feel clumsy in the intensity of this moment. Crowe’s gaze still lingers on you, steady and deliberate, traveling down the length of your figure and then back up again. His deep blue eyes seem darker in the dim light, their usual warmth replaced by something unreadable, something that makes your pulse race. His soft smile was still there, faint but unshakable, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Your breath catches, and for a second, all you can think is how badly you don’t want this moment to end. Then, before your mind has time to catch up, your body moves on instinct. Slowly, deliberately, you move your body forward—out of the passenger seat closing the distance between you and him.

His head tilts slightly as he watches you, his soft smile faltering, replaced by a soft gasp for just a heartbeat as you climb onto his lap. Your knees press into the seat on either side of him, the soft material of your tights brushing against his thighs as you warp your arms around his neck looking at him.

For a brief moment, neither of you speaks. The air feels heavy, charged with something neither of you can name. His reaction is filled with disbelief.He inhales quickly, his chest rising against yours, and his hands lift instinctively to your hips. His grip is firm yet hesitant, his fingers flexing slightly on the tight spandex of your bunny suitas though he’s testing the reality of the situation.

You’re glad you caught him like this—off-guard, unguarded. It’s rare to see him anything but happily composed, but now? Now, his usual teasing and confidence feels shaken, his calm veneer cracking just enough to let you peek underneath.

“Don’t regret this…” you whisper, your voice low and thick with emotion. “Please don’t stop, Jericho.”

The tension in his shoulders eases, but only slightly. His body remains taut beneath yours, every muscle coiled like a spring. His hands tighten against your hips as if anchoring himself—or maybe anchoring you. He leans forward, and the closeness is dizzying.

His breath fans against your neck, warm and teasing, and goosebumps rise across your skin in response. His hands shift from your hips, sliding upward in slow, deliberate movements that leave you breathless. His thumbs trace over your waist, the faintest pressure sparking heat in their wake. His fingers move higher, brushing against your sides, and you can’t stop the way your body responds, arching slightly into his touch.

Soon his lips hover near your ear, his voice low and husky, dripping with intent as he murmurs, “I won’t.”

May got a little carried away here…

✑ 𝓈𝑜𝓁

You don’t know how it happened.

So okay, you do know how it happened—you were dumb enough to bet against Hyugo. The guy might be obnoxious, loud, and silly as hell, but unfortunately, he’s also good at literally everything. Somehow, that fact slipped your mind when you let him talk you into betting on the last round of a stupid game at a party.

It was one of those chaotic, anything-goes types of games, the kind where people are shouting over each other, rules barely make sense, and luck has just as much sway as skill. You don’t even remember what it was called—something involving a blindfold, ping pong balls, and a lot of yelling. I’m kidding here…

All you know is that Hyugo had that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he knows he’s about to win.

“Come on,” he’d said, his voice dripping with smugness as he leaned against the table. “You scared or something? What’s the worst that could happen?”

And like an idiot, you fell for it. “I’m not scared,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You’re on.”

Big mistake.

Because five minutes later, you were standing there in stunned silence, staring at Hyugo’s triumphant face as he held up his winning ping pong ball like it was an Olympic gold medal.

“Wow, that was almost too easy!” he said, laughing as he clapped you on the shoulder. “You really thought you could beat me?.”

You scowled, already regretting your life choices. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. What do you want?”

His grin widened, and you instantly knew you were doomed. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice practically oozing with fake innocence. “It’s nothing crazy. Just a little outfit change for, let’s say... an hour?”

Your stomach dropped. “What kind of outfit change? I have a movie night at Sol’s place later,”

And now here you are, standing in Sol’s dimly lit studio apartment, wearing a bunny suit that makes you feel about three sizes too exposed and questioning every decision you’ve ever made.

How the tf did Hyugo knew your size anyway?

The small space smells like popcorn and energy drinks, and there’s a paused horror movie on the screen, but all of that pales in comparison to the look on Sol’s face.

He hasn’t stopped staring since you walked in.

The guy is sitting on his beat-up couch, one leg tucked under him, the TV remote hanging limp in his hand. His mouth is slightly open, and his face?

Bright red.

Like, glowing tomato-red, borderline matching the devil on the movie poster behind him.

“…What are you doing?” he finally chokes out, his voice cracking just enough to make you raise an eyebrow. He clears his throat and tries again, this time deeper: “I mean, what’s this?” He gestures vaguely at you, but his hand is shaking a little, so it’s not exactly smooth.

You cross your arms, trying to tug the hem of the crotch area down to show less skin, but there’s no saving it—it’s just too short. “Lost a bet to Hyugo from party earlier today,” you mumble, your voice flat, as if that explains everything.

Sol squints at you, the disbelief radiating off him in waves. “Hyugo made you do this?” His tone flips between outraged and incredulous. His eyes dart down to the whole getup— floppy bunny ears, the thigh-high socks, even a little button tie—and then snap back up so fast you think he might’ve given himself a neck cramp. “Ugh… He’s the worst sometimes.”

“Yeah, thanks for the groundbreaking insight,” you deadpan, shooting him a withering glare. “I figured that out the moment Hyugo handed me this thing.”

Sol drags a hand through his perpetually messy hair, clearly grappling with some kind of inner turmoil. “You didn’t have to wear it, though,” he mutters, his usual grumbly tone edged with something oddly defensive. “You could’ve just… I dunno, said no.”

You blink at him, unimpressed. “Oh, sure. And let Hyugo post that video of me tripping like an idiot in front of the entire campus? An excellent alternative, Sol. Really genius stuff.”

He makes a weird noise in his throat, half a groan, half something else, and he mutters, “Still better than this…” But his eyes betray him.

Because despite the whole “ugh, this is dumb” act, Sol keeps looking. Like, really looking. His gaze lingers on your bunny ears, the curve of the bodysuit, and the thigh-high socks that are making you wish the couch would swallow you whole. Every time his eyes travel down, they snap back up so fast you’d think he got whiplash.

“What’s your problem?” you snap, crossing your arms over your chest, mostly for your sanity. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. “Whatever. I’m not the one dressed like…” His words trail off as he waves vaguely in your direction, his ears reddening again as if even describing the outfit is too much for him.

You sigh and plop down on his old couch because there’s literally nowhere else to go in this shoebox of an apartment. As soon as you do, Sol freezes like you’ve just stepped on a landmine. His whole body stiffens, his hands gripping his knees, and you swear he stops breathing.

“Relax,” you say, kicking off your heels with a sigh. “It’s not like I want to be here in this dumb outfit either.”

“You don’t look unhappy,” he mutters, barely audible, but you catch it.

Your head snaps toward him, catching the faintest flicker of his eyes darting to your outfit before immediately locking onto the popcorn bowl on the coffee table like it’s his last lifeline. His face is ‘burning’, and it only gets worse when he realizes you caught him looking.

“Excuse me?” you ask, leaning in slightly because you can’t let him off the hook that easily.

“I didn’t—” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat so violently it’s almost painful. “I just meant—uh, never mind.” But his ears are practically glowing, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

“Sure, okay,” you say, sighing as you settle deeper into the couch, before you mention, “It’s not like you’ve been staring at me like a creep since I walked in or anything.”

“I wasn’t staring!” he blurts, far too defensively for someone who was. He drags a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up even more as he groans like he’s on the verge of losing it.

“Oh, you weren’t?” you tease, tilting your head. “Are you calling me a liar?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking to your legs for half a second before darting away. His hands curl into fists on his lap, and his breathing sounds... uneven.

Fast.

One second, you’re sitting on the couch, awkwardly avoiding his gaze, and the next, you’re swept up off the cushions. His arms slide under you, one wrapping around your back and the other hooking beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly into a bridal carry.

“Sol!” you shriek, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders. “What are you—put me down!”

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself back onto the couch, keeping you securely in his hold. Your legs dangle awkwardly over his arm, your heels threatening to slip off, and you’re acutely aware of how close your faces are now—his warm breath brushing against your skin, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.

“Relax,” he mutters, his tone gruff but oddly soft. “You were fidgeting too much. Thought you were about to hurt yourself or something.”

“Hurt what now?!” you snap, glaring at him even as your cheeks flush. “I wasn’t—Sol, that doesn’t even make sense. Let me go.”

“Not yet,” he says simply, his grip tightening slightly as if daring you to try and wriggle free.

You glare at him, but the heat of his gaze makes it hard to keep your composure. His eyes flicker down for a moment—trailing from your flushed face to the curve of your legs draped over his arm. He’s trying to play it cool, but the way his jaw clenches and his ears turn a faint shade of pink gives him away.

“Your legs are cold,” he murmurs after a beat, his voice quieter now.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at the hint of concern in his tone.

His lips twitch a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “This outfit isn’t practical.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly pick it,” you grumble, squirming slightly in his hold.

“Stop moving,” he mutters, his voice dropping an octave. His hands shift slightly, one sliding along your back and the other brushing against your thigh as he adjusts his grip. The casual intimacy of it makes your face burn hotter.

“Sol...” you warn, your voice shaky.

But instead of answering, he leans back slightly, settling you more comfortably in his lap. The movement makes your head spin—partly from the sudden shift, but mostly because of how close he is now. You’re practically curled up against his chest, his arm still supporting your legs while his other hand rests firmly against your back.

And then he looks at you again. Really looks at you. His orange-red eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the teasing, grumbly version of Sol you’re used to is nowhere to be found. There’s something different in his expression now—something serious, almost vulnerable, and it steals the breath from your lungs.

“You should be more careful,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly against your knee. His hands slide from your hips to your legs. “These heels could’ve hurt me,” His thumbs trace slow, deliberate circles along the tops of your thighs, sending shivers up your spine.

Your mouth opens to respond—maybe to defend yourself, maybe to yell at him, you’re not sure—but then his hands shift lower, skimming over the curve of your calves. He grabs one of your feet, his fingers curling around your ankle as he starts tugging off your shoe.

“Sol, I can do that myself—”

“N-No,” he practically begged. His cheeks are pink, his expression strained like he’s trying to keep it together. “Please, just let me.”

You’re too stunned to argue. He’s slow about it, almost hesitant, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin as he removes one shoe, then the other. When he’s done, he lets his hands linger for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your bare ankles.

His eyes flicker back up to yours, and there’s something desperate in his expression now like he’s holding himself back from doing something stupid. “Why do you always have to make this so hard?” he mutters, half to himself.

“I’m making 'it' hard?” you blurt, your voice shaky.

“You showed up like this,” he counters, his gaze sweeping over you again. “Looking like... this.”

He leans closer, so close you can feel the heat radiating off him. His hand slides up, tracing a line from your ankle to your knee, then up your thigh, stopping just shy of where the hem of the bunny suit begins. His knee presses a little closer, and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your brain short-circuits. You don’t even know how to respond to that, especially not when his eyes are locked on yours like he’s waiting for an answer.

“Sol,” you finally manage, your voice barely audible. “You’re being weird.”

“I know,” he mutters, his lips twitching into a crooked, almost self-deprecating smile. “I’m always weird. But you make it worse.”

And with that, he dips his head lower, his breath ghosting over your lips like he’s daring you to stop him.

Please don’t make him stop…

✑ 𝑔𝑒𝑜

Geo hadn’t thought much about your text at first.

You were running late—what else was new? He was used to it by now. You’d told him to let himself in with the key under the mat since you were still getting ready, and, well, that’s what he did.

Your apartment was as familiar to him as ever: the faint smell of your scented candles. Geo plopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone to kill time. After about ten minutes of waiting, he sighed loudly, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“Why do I let you do this to me?” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. He made his way down the hall, the hardwood floor creaking faintly under his boots.

The door to your bedroom was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway. He tapped lightly on the frame with his knuckles. “Hey, we’re gonna be late, y’know. What’s taking you so—”

He pushed the door open mid-sentence, stepping inside. And then he stopped.

His brain short-circuited.

There you were, standing in front of your full-length mirror, fiddling with a pair of floppy bunny ears.

A very, very skimpy bunny suit clung to you like a second skin, all shiny black fabric and sheer tights that showed just enough to drive someone insane. The plunging neckline, the dangerously high cut of the bodysuit, the tiny bowtie collar around your neck—it was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet somehow…

You looked stunning.

Geo froze in the doorway, one hand gripping the frame like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His trademark sarcasm, his quick wit, his effortless aloof expression? Gone. His brain? Absolutely empty.

His mouth opened like he wanted to say something—anything—but no words came out.

You noticed him then, spinning around so fast that your bunny ears flopped dramatically to one side. “Geo!” you shrieked, your voice an octave higher than usual. “What the hell are you doing? I thought you were on the couch.”

“What am I doing?” he echoed, his voice cracking slightly as his eyes flicked over you, up and down, up and down, like he couldn’t stop himself. He quickly snapped his gaze upward, focusing on the very uninteresting ceiling. “What the hell are you wearing?”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s for a charity event,” you muttered defensively. “Crowe asked me to help raise donations.”

Geo’s jaw clenched, his fingers twitching at his sides as he tried to keep his gaze anywhere but directly on you. His eyes betrayed him, though, darting back to your legs, your waist, your— “What kind of charity involves… that?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at your outfit like it was some kind of alien artifact.

You groaned, turning back to the mirror to adjust the bunny ears again. “It’s a themed event, okay? College students are more likely to donate if there’s… I don’t know, incentive?”

“Incentive…?” Geo repeated, “And Crowe ask you wear that? Crowe?” His tone was somewhere between disbelief and outrage. “What is wrong with him? Is he insane?”

“It’s not that bad,” you said defensively, though your voice wavered because, yeah, it was kind of bad. “It’s for a good cause!”

Geo crossed his arms, his lips pulling into a tight line. “No. Nope. Not happening. You’re not walking out of here dressed like that. I don’t care if it’s for world peace.”

You threw your hands up. “What are you, my dad? Relax, Geo. It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He frowns, irritated, his eyes accidentally drifting downward before snapping back up to your face. He looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “You look like—you—ugh, never mind.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I look like what?”

“Forget it.” he sighed, his face turning an even deeper shade of red. “Just… just go change or something."

“I can’t!” you said, exasperated. “This is the whole point of the event!”

Geo groaned, dragging a hand down his face in pure exasperation. His usual sharp wit was dulled by whatever internal battle he was clearly losing. “Why do I have to be the one to see this? Literally anyone else would’ve been better. Anyone.”

You crossed your arms, giving him an incredulous look. “You’re the only one with a car who wasn’t busy,” you shot back, matter-of-fact as ever.

Geo huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You should’ve just taken the bus, then!”

“And have creepy men ogling me the whole ride? Absolutely not,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “You’re a much better option. Like it or not.”

“Well,” he muttered, clearly flustered as his hand shot to the back of his neck, his eyes darting anywhere but at you, “I’m regretting it now.”

You sighed, turning back to the mirror and fiddling with the bunny ears again, your patience wearing thin. “Look, if it’s that big of a deal, just wait outside. I’ll be done in a sec—I just need to put on my shoes.”

For a moment, you thought he might actually listen. But then Geo took a step closer, his posture shifting. The embarrassment still lingered in his tense shoulders and flushed face, but there was something else now—something almost… resolute.

Before you could ask what he was doing, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, turning you around so fast you nearly stumbled.

“Geo?” you asked, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze.

He didn’t answer. Instead, without missing a beat, he pushed you backward with a firm but careful hand, and your back hit the edge of your bed. You let out a startled gasp, barely managing to catch yourself as you propped up on your elbows.

“Hey! What the hell—”

You froze as Geo knelt in front of you, his hand gripping your ankle firmly but gently. His other hand reached out for your heels, which had been discarded nearby, and he snatched them up with a quick, fluid motion.

“You need to hurry up,” he grumbled, his voice low and laced with irritation as he slid the first heel onto your foot. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingers brushing against your sheer tights as he adjusted the strap. His face, however, was a different story—flushed red and rigid, like he was barely holding himself together. “So just—shut up and let me handle it.”

You blinked, your mouth opening to protest but no words coming out. Geo hadn’t spared you a glance, too focused on fastening the strap with a level of concentration that was almost comical.

“You’re—” you finally managed, but your voice wavered as his hands moved to your other foot.

“And you’re taking forever,” he shot back, not missing a beat. His grip on your ankle tightened slightly as he secured the second heel, his eyes resolutely fixed downward.

Is he blushing?

Your eyes narrowed, “You seem red there,” you teased, leaning back on your hands and watching him with a growing smirk. “What happened to all your sarcastic remarks, Mr. Smartass?”

“Shut up,” he muttered through clenched teeth, still not looking at you as he finished adjusting the second strap.

His fingers brushed against your ankle again, lingering just a second too long, and you swore you saw his ears turn even redder. Deciding to test your luck, you slowly crossed one leg over the other, making the movement deliberately graceful.

Geo’s aquamarine eyes flicked up instinctively at the shift in movement, and when he realized what he’d done, he snapped his gaze away so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing.

“Stop doing that,” he muttered, his voice lower now.

“Doing what?” you asked, feigning innocence as you tilted your head and batted your lashes at him.

“You know what,” Geo shot back, his jaw tightening as he focused way too hard on the buckle of your heel, his fingers fumbling slightly.

“Aw, is Geo embarrassed?” you teased, your voice dripping with playful mockery as you leaned forward slightly, one of your legs crossing just enough to invade his space. The toe of your heel pressed lightly against his chest, and you tilted your head, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think you’d get so flustered over a little outfit.”

Geo, ever the picture of calm composure, froze mid-motion. His hands, which had been casually adjusting the cuffs of his jacket a moment ago, were now completely still. For a second, it was like time itself had paused. Slowly—deliberately—his gaze lifted, locking with yours.

Fuck.

His aquamarine eyes, normally narrowed and calculating, were different now. They seemed darker, more intense, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t annoyance, nor was it the usual stoic indifference he wore like armor. Whatever it was, it had you swallowing hard.

The teasing smirk on your face faltered just slightly as curiosity crept in. You tilted your head to the side, your lips parting faintly as you tried to read him, to figure out what was going on behind that icy stare. “Geo?” you prompted softly, your narrowed eyes searching his face.

Still, he didn’t look away. He couldn’t seem to.

It was unnerving—and kind of thrilling, if you were honest. Normally, a jab like that would earn you a dry, sarcastic retort, something sharp-edged that would put you right back in your place. But this time? Nothing. Whatever comeback he’d had locked and loaded vanished the second your teasing grin softened into something more uncertain.

The silence stretched, tension thickening between the two of you like a coiled spring. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heartbeat hammering in your chest or his, but the moment felt impossibly fragile.

“Seriously, say something,” you murmured, a hint of nervous laughter creeping into your tone. You pressed your foot just a little harder against his chest, trying to get any kind of reaction. “You’re starting to freak me out.”

His gaze flicked briefly to your leg—the curve of your calf, the ridiculous heel perched at the end of it—before snapping back to your face. “You shouldn’t play games you can’t win,” he said finally, his voice low and even.

Your breath caught for half a second. His hand moved, wrapping firmly around your ankle—not harshly, but with enough pressure to make your pulse skip a beat. With one smooth motion, he guided your leg away from his chest.

“You don’t get it,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm, his tone a complete shift from his usual snark.

The intensity in his voice caught you off guard, and your expression faltered. “...Don’t get what?” you asked, your playful tone slipping into something more hesitant.

Geo’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as if he were trying to hold something back. He stood abruptly, the sudden motion making you flinch slightly. His eyes immediately flickered with regret at your reaction, and he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

“Shit,” Geo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his already messy hair. His back was turned to you, but the stiffness in his posture betrayed his frustration. He exhaled sharply, shoulders rising and falling as though wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.

“Geo…” you started softly, the sharp edge in your tone from earlier now replaced with concern.

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice strained and hoarse, like the words were being dragged out of him. “We’re not going to the charity event. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What?” you exclaimed, still perched on the edge of the bed. “You can’t just decide that for me!”

He turned to face you, amber eyes blazing with a mix of irritation and something you couldn’t quite place. “Watch me.”

Before you could react, Geo stalked toward your desk, snatched a hoodie draped over the chair, and swung it around your shoulders with surprising precision. His hands lingered just long enough to tug it snugly over your frame, the fabric swallowing the delicate silhouette of your bunny suit.

“You’re not going anywhere in that,” he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. He stepped back slightly, his gaze flicking over you as though ensuring his makeshift cover-up was secure. “If Crowe wants donations that badly, he can wear the damn bunny suit.”

Your jaw dropped, words caught somewhere between outrage and disbelief. “Geo, you’re being absolutely insane!”

“Yeah, probably,” he admitted, flashing a grin that was more sharp edges than warmth. “But at least I’m not letting you walk into a room full of idiots who won’t be able to keep their eyes—or their thoughts—off you.”

Heat crept up your cheeks at his bluntness, and you folded your arms tightly across your chest. His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, and the tension between you grew like a palpable thing.

“You’re seriously overreacting,” you muttered, but your voice lacked its usual bite.

“Am I?” Geo shot back, stepping closer. His towering frame cast a shadow over you as his gaze locked onto yours, burning with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Do you even realize how—” He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching as if swallowing the words was the only way to keep them from spilling out.

“Realize what?” you pressed, your own voice barely above a whisper now, caught somewhere between defiance and curiosity.

Geo’s eyes darted to the floor, then back to you, before he let out a low, frustrated growl. In one swift movement, he stepped forward, his hands gripping your shoulders as he pushed you gently but firmly down onto the bed.

“Geo, what the hell—”

Your protest was cut short as he followed, his weight settling over you in a way that was far from aggressive but left no room for escape. His arms slipped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace as his head dropped to your chest.

The world seemed to stop as you felt the warmth of his breath against your collarbone. He didn’t say a word, his face buried against you, his grip almost desperate.

You froze, your hands hovering uncertainly in the air. “Geo?” you murmured, your voice soft and unsure.

“Just… shut up for a second,” he muttered, his voice muffled against you. His tone was softer now, tinged with vulnerability that made your chest ache. “Let me have this.”

Your hands hesitated before they slowly lowered, one settling against his back, the other threading cautiously through his hair. His body tensed at first but then melted into yours, his hold tightening as if he were afraid you’d disappear.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he mumbled, his voice raw and unguarded. “And not in the way I’m used to handling.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of his words—and his closeness—stealing the air from the room. Whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as you let the moment stretch, the sound of his breathing steadying against you.

“Oh,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, “You’re not making any sense. We’re going to be late for the event,” you murmured, trying to keep your tone soft but firm.

“Good,” he muttered into your chest without lifting his head.

“Good?” you echoed, your brows furrowing. “Crowe’s going to kill us if we don’t show up. And you promised to drive me, remember?”

“I don’t care about Crowe or the stupid event right now,” he grumbled, his voice low and slightly muffled. “It’s not important.”

“Not important?” You leaned your head back against the bed in disbelief. “You’re acting like the world’s ending because of a bunny suit, Geo. What’s really going on?”

He finally lifted his head slightly, just enough to look at you. His amber eyes burned with an intensity that made your breath catch. “You still don’t get it, do you?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, a mix of irritation and something deeper. “I don’t want anyone else looking at you the way I am right now.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in and leaving you momentarily speechless. “Geo…” you started, but he didn’t give you a chance to finish.

Instead, his arms tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer as his lips brushed the curve of your neck. You tensed under his touch, your breath hitching as his teeth gently grazed your skin.

“Just give me five minutes,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. His lips pressed softly against the spot he’d just bitten, lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Five minutes, and then I’ll get up, and we can go. Deal?”

You blinked, trying to process what just happened, your body feeling like it was on fire where his lips had been. “Geo, that’s not—”

“Five minutes,” he repeated, cutting you off. His tone was quieter this time, almost pleading as his eyes locked onto yours, filled with a vulnerability he rarely let you see. “Please.”

Wow. Five minutes it is then.

· ───────⋆⋅♤⋅⋆─────── ·

#the kid at the back x reader #the kid at the back vn #tkatb #solivan brugmansia #the kid at the back crowe #the kid at the back sol #tkatb crowe #tkatb sol #crowe ichabod #crowe x reader #sol x reader #sol brugmansia #jericho crowe ichabod #tkatb geo #geo oogami #tkatb vn

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staylovesmiley · 2 days ago

Note

So this is kind of built off someone’s previous ask but kind of angstier I guess

But thoughts on poly skz x reader who are away on tour. And as much as they love the reader and will miss her they still have each other so they have someone to love and hold every night , they still getting laid all the damn time. But she’s just at home all sad and lonely cause all her 8 boyfriends are gone but she doesn’t want to be a bother cause she knows they are busy on tour

Angst is my specialty hehe~

Poor reader would feel so lonely without her boyfriends (as someone who’s is somewhat long distance with my own partner??? I mean like- a little over an hour but still lol) the boys would also be gutted to not have her there but like you said…they aren’t exactly lonely-

They would try begging her to join them on tour but as usual they got a “I can’t- you know I have work too or else I would.” Or something of the sort in response and it would SUCK telling them no even when they offer to pay for your ticket to come see them but ugh being an adult means having responsibilities unfortunately…

They would send you videos and pictures and try and keep you updated on their lives on tour so you don’t feel left out but it only makes you feel that much lonelier. But you signed up for this, you knew their careers would mean you would have to be apart from them sometimes while they got to be together…I feel like after a while, when your replies to them started to become short with the pressure of pretending that everything is okay and tbh I feel like Minho would clock that shit first. Immediately he is calling you out asking what is wrong and you would try and hide it as till until he starts blowing up your phone with calls until you finally answer and hearing his voice sound so concerned would be the tipping point and you are crying and confessing how lonely you’ve been feeling to him in seconds.

After calming you down and talking through it he convinces you to say something to the others so you have a group call where you all talk about your feelings and how the distance has been so hard- and you feel better afterwards and life goes on as it had been, counting down the days until they get back to you….until Seungmin shows up at your work place with flowers and you are so shocked you think you might be hallucinating and he admits that he may have impulsively bought a plane ticket while you were all on a call that night and wanted to surprise you~ it’s only for a few days since he still has tour to go back to but instead of spending his free days in between stops in whatever city they were in last he decided to fly back to spend as much time as he could with his beautiful girlfriend who he missed so so much and for the rest of the tour, a few of your other boyfriends decide to do the same thing and you feel much less lonely than you did before~

I know it was meant to be angsty but I’ve been in a fluffy comfort mood lately- been super stressed with work and could use comfort hehe

#stray kids #skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #ot8 x you #skz ot8 #ot8 x reader #stray kids ot8 #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #stray kids angst #smiles-asks

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writerinlearning · 2 days ago

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞

plot: henry hart has a crush on his best friend and doesn’t know what to do with his feelings. an unfortunate mishap and a little nudge from team danger might just change that.

pairing: henry hart x fem!reader

show: henry danger

warnings: none that i can think of.

word count: 7,2k

author’s notes: english isn’t my first language, apologies for any mistakes. it's been proof-read, so there shouldn't be many mistakes anyway. it’s heavily inspired by the episode cave the date from season five of henry danger, so most of the dialogues and the story is most likely to be very familiar to y’all. it does go canon-divergent by the end though, and of course it’s reader instead of charlotte. this ended up being longer than i thought it would be. i hope you enjoy!

henry hart masterlist | main masterlist

It’s the perfect day, a quiet one the Danger team hasn’t had in a long time. Between all the petty crimes and the more serious villains who wanted to end Captain Man and Kid Danger, Y/N doesn’t remember the last time they could all just hang out in the Man Cave, undisturbed. She sighs contentedly, flipping a page of the book she’s reading, leaning further into the couch. Schwoz sits next to her, concentrating over a game of chess he’s having against himself, for some reason. Charlotte is nearby too, sitting on the chair at the supercomputer and reading her own book about “nuclear physics for smarties”.

“I will not see that coming.” Schwoz mutters to himself through the silence in the room. “I did not see that coming!” He adds, spitting out the water in his mouth after turning the chess board around.

“Do you ever get bored of playing chess against yourself?” Charlotte asks him, placing her book on the console before her.

“No, I don’t.” A pause. “But sometimes, I do.”

Y/N snorts at Schwoz’s antics. Her text ringtone rips through the silence, followed by a groan rumbling from her chest. She checks her screen, rolling her eyes when she sees the text notification from Jasper, and she looks at Charlotte with brows furrowed in annoyance as she closes her book and puts it down on the table before her.

“The guys are coming back.”

“Give me your book.” Charlotte tells her, extending her hand out.

“Why?” Y/N asks her, raising a brow. “I haven’t finished reading it, and I need to know what happens between Sel and Bree.”

“Just– give me your book.”

“H– hey! hey! hey! Char! Why’d you do that?”

Y/N screams, watching in horror as Charlotte moves from her spot on the chair to grab Y/N’s beloved copy of Legendborn by Tracy Deonn, putting it into a shredding machine and destroying it in the process. Charlotte then does the same thing with her own book.

“Ray gets mad whenever people do ‘smart stuff’ in front of him.” Charlotte explains, putting her hands on her hips. “You should know that, Y/N, you’ve been here the last two years. Schwoz, give me the chess board.”

“But I’ve got myself right where I want me!” The science man protests.

“You’ll get yourself next time.”

Schwoz grumbles, reluctantly handing his chess board and chess pieces to Charlotte who proceeds to throw them into the shredding machine. It makes a strange noise and Y/N winces at the sound, closing her eyes when the grinding noise finally stops.

“Where were they anyway?” Charlotte asks, sitting back on the chair behind the supercomputer.

“They went to throw melons at that abandoned house that people throw melons at.” Y/N shrugs.

“Without me?” Schwoz chirps in. “But I’ve been saving melons for months.” He adds as he glances to his box of rotten melons that’s been laying next to the supercomputer for nearly two months.

“So, they should be back soon, right?” Charlotte wonders.

“Yeah,” Y/N nods. “I just asked them to swing by my house and pick up my phone charger on the way back.”

Schwoz snorts. “You sent Ray, Henry, and Jasper to your house with no adult supervision?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem?”

Just then, the elevator doors ding open and out step the three men they were just talking about, in what seems to be a really serious discussion about Disney movies. All three of them have dishevelled hair, as if they’d just run a marathon, but the ashes smeared across their face and stuck to their clothes and hair give way to an entirely different story.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Y/N interrupts them, standing up from the couch as she takes in their appearance.

“Hey.” Jasper greets her. “What’s up?”

“What have you guys been doing?”

“Hmm?” Henry chimes in.

“What have you guys been doing?” Y/N repeats herself, hands going to her hips as she raises a brow. “Did you go to my house?”

“Sure did.” Henry replies.

“Oh yeah.” Ray continues.

“Walked right in.” Jasper finishes, smiling proudly.

Y/N looks over her shoulder to Charlotte, brows pulled together in a confused frown. They both have the same questions running through their mind. Why were the boys all dirty with dark ashes, and why were they acting so innocent all of the sudden. Innocent, and clueless.

“So… what happened?” Charlotte asks then, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Weee got Y/N’s phone charger.”

Henry trails out, throwing the phone cable in Y/N’s hands but she drops it almost immediately, squealing out in surprise.

“Aaahh! Why is it hot?!”

“Because we pulled it out of the fire.” Jasper answers her.

“You are welcome.” Ray adds. “Hit the showers.” He finishes, out of the blue.

The boys whoop, starting to head for the showers when Y/N stops them again. Charlotte and Schwoz watch in amusement, seeing them rolling their eyes and groaning under their breath.

“Whaaaaaaat?!” Henry drags out.

“I told you she’d be like this.” Ray whines, motioning towards Y/N. “What did I say?”

“Yeah, I owe you ten bucks.” Jasper says, defeated.

“Did you guys light my house on fire?!” Y/N questions, panic in her voice.

“No, no, no, no…” Henry stutters. “ ‘Course not.”

Y/N glares at him, her eyes growing darker than he’s ever seen before. Okay, maybe Henry had underestimated his best friend’s anger, but to be fair, it wasn’t his fault they’d set a fire in her house. Still, he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his pants, casting his gaze to the floor to avoid looking directly into her eyes. He begins to balance himself on his heels, racking his brain for the right words to say as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. He inhales slowly through his nose and finally, he looks up to her. He sees the expectation in her eyes, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer. Henry swallows the growing lump in his throat; he hates to see her mad at him, when he knows she rarely ever gets mad at anyone. He knows her anger is not only directed at him, but at Ray and Jasper too, and yet he still takes it personally. He doesn’t know why he does, but his chest tightens when he replays the events from earlier, and the guilt settles in the back of his brain. He lowers his gaze again, his feet suddenly becoming more interesting than anything.

“I– I mean… y– yeah.” Henry admits, stuttering.

“Just the kitchen.” Jasper clarifies.

“The kitchen is part of the house.” Y/N deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest.

“The kitchen’s gone. It’s gone.” Jasper blurts out.

“The rest of your house… totally fine.” Ray adds, clapping his hands together.

“Y– yeah.” Henry finishes.

“How could you guys light my kitchen on fire?!”

Y/N asks them, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation before her eyes fall back to the three men, glaring at them. By then, Charlotte has joined Schwoz on the couch in the centre of the Man Cave, as if they were watching the most interesting movie ever made. Charlotte knows her friend, and judging by how fuming she is about the whole situation, she knows it won’t end well for the boys.

Henry still can’t bring himself to look at Y/N, but he can imagine the hurt and confusion written all over her face. He’s known her for as long as he’s known Charlotte and Jasper; it’s always been the four of them. They can read each other like open books.

Jasper flinches when Y/N raises her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her raise her voice before, she’s usually calm and composed. He glances at Henry, and when he sees that his friend has suddenly found an interest in his shoes, Jasper knows they messed up big time.

Ray frowns when he sees Y/N crossing her arms over her chest again. Her cold stare travels from Henry, to Jasper, to him, and by the way she holds her head high, lips flattened into a thin line, he can sense the anger radiating off of her. What Ray doesn’t understand is why.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Schwoz chuckles as he gets up. “Let me get some popcorn.”

He returns a minute later with a red bowl filled to the brim with popcorn, setting the food on the table as he sits back on the couch next to Charlotte. Both watch, shoving food in their mouths, as Y/N shifts on her feets, body tense.

“What. Happened?” Y/N asks again, gritting through her teeth.

“Okay, first of all,” Ray begins, holding his hands out in front of him as he takes a step towards the girl. “We couldn’t find a light switch anywhere.”

“It– it was very dark.” Henry chirps in, barely glancing up at her as he tries to justify their actions. “And kinda cold.” His voice falters as he looks back to the floor.

“I happened to have a flare on me.” Ray adds, as if there were nothing wrong with that.

“Which would solve both problems.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Jasper’s comment, her nostrils flaring as she grows impatient. Without even realizing it, she begins to tap her foot against the tiled floor of the Man Cave, her cold stare directed towards Ray.

“So, I had a flare… in your kitchen.” Ray begins to explain again, somehow proud of himself.

“And then, we started exploring!” Jasper smiles.

“First thing we uh… found were the curtains.” Henry adds sheepishly. “Well… the flare found ‘em.”

Henry tentatively looks up to his friend, a sheepish smile across his face. It falters when he sees the hurt flashing in her eyes for a brief second. He hates to see her like this, and he never wants to see her like this again. He has to admit it, lighting up a flare in her kitchen had been a bad idea, and he doesn’t know why he and Jasper didn’t try to stop Ray from doing something this stupid. They should be used to it by now; Henry has been dealing with his boss’s antics for the last five years, so has Charlotte, and both Jasper and Y/N have been dealing with it for the last two years. Ray, more often than not, acts without thinking twice about his actions, and perhaps that is because he’s been indestructible since he was eight years old, but he often forgets that the teenagers, and Schwoz, are not him and that they aren’t indestructible. His impulsive actions often bring them into trouble, and Henry has always wondered how they haven’t been badly injured by now, or sent to the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. Lighting up a flare in Y/N’s kitchen should have been an idea that stayed in Ray’s childish brain.

“Those things went up fast.” Ray laughs as Jasper imitates a fire starting.

“Did you guys try to put it out?!” Y/N asks, exasperated.

“Yes! Of course we did.” Jasper tells her.

“But uhm, you know the saying “fight fire with fire”?” Henry asks tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, that does not work!” Ray snorts.

“Oh my god!”

Y/N groans as she lets her arms fall to her sides, turning on her heels and heading for the elevator. She pounds her fist against the button, letting out a frustrated yell when the elevator doesn’t come right away. Jasper tries to reach for her, but she whips her head over her shoulder, sending him a stare that could have put him to his grave if her eyes held daggers. Jasper raises his hands up in defence, taking a step back to stand in between Ray and Henry.

“Where are you going?” Henry asks his best friend, voice filled with guilt.

“None of your business.” Y/N grits through her clenched teeth.

She doesn’t mean to speak to Henry that way, but she’s beyond mad that they burned their kitchen, and what pisses her off most is that they don’t even seem to be aware of how bad they messed up.

“Wh– whoa there, Y/N.” Ray exclaims, raising his arms up in defense.

“Yeah, what’s your deal?” Jasper scoffs, nudging Henry.

“My deal–” Y/N speaks through gritted teeth. “–is that I have a date tonight, with Jack Swagger. And I was gonna make him dinner at my house, but you guys blew my kitchen!”

Y/N yells exasperatedly, turning her head back towards the elevator and using one hand to push the up button on the panel on her right.

Charlotte stands from where she sat on the couch, walking over to the boys. She’s the only one who knows of Y/N’s date night with Jack Swagger, and she’s also the only one who knows Jack Swagger out of his international fame. The two girls had met him at camp, ten years earlier, and he contacted Y/N to let her know he was coming to Swellview for a couple days, and that he wanted to hang out with her. Charlotte also knows the real reason why Y/N had agreed to go on a date with Jack, and it wasn’t because she used to have a crush on him when they’d first met.

“Wait.” Jasper’s voice cuts through Charlotte’s train of thoughts. “You know Jack Swagger?” He asks, taking a step toward Y/N. “International music superstar Jack Swagger?”

“Youngest person to win a Grammy Jack Swagger?” Schwoz questions, rushing to Y/N.

“You have a date?”

Henry asks Y/N, a little surprised that his best friend has a date with someone and that she didn’t tell him about it.

“Yeah, I had a date.” She answers him, coldly.

“With Jack Swagger?” He asks again.

“Yes, with Jack Swagger. Can we not do this? I have to go and see the mess you guys made in my house. See if I can fix anything, or if I have to cancel my date tonight.”

Y/N pounds her fist on the elevator button again, but her movement is less angry and more frustrated. In truth, even if she originally did not want to go on a date with Jack Swagger, she’d warmed up to the idea and she was really looking forward to it. Besides, she’d figured it would help her forget about a certain someone that’s been on her mind twenty-four-seven.

When the elevator comes to a stop and the doors ding open, Y/N steps inside, pressing the up button without looking at it, and she keeps her death stare on the three men as the doors close again.

Henry watches as she disappears behind the now-closed elevator doors, but he knows she hasn’t gone up just yet, or they would have heard the loud squeaking noise from the elevator’s mechanical whirring. Perhaps she’s calling Jack Swagger; he did see her reach for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. For some reason, however, knowing about the possibility of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack makes Henry feel less guilty about his responsibility for being part of the reason why Y/N’s kitchen burned. He knows he shouldn’t feel happy about it, but he does.

“How does she know Jack Swagger?” Jasper asks, turning towards Charlotte when the elevator doors close.

“Me and Y/N went to camp with him, like ten years ago. He was Jack Swaggowitz back then.”

“Okayyy… How did we not know this until now?”

“We’ve told you like a million times! You guys just never listen to us.”

“Okay, fine! Fine!” Jasper raises his hands up in defeat. “So, why can’t they go to Sotto Voce? Or any other restaurant in Swellview?”

“Yeah! Sotto Voce is a nice place.” Ray chimes into the conversation in agreement, snapping his fingers. “Romantic, and kitchen not burned.”

“That you know of.” Jasper nudges him.

“That I know of.”

“They tried that.” Charlotte explains, sighing. “He’s too famous and gets mobbed wherever he goes.”

That catches Henry’s attention, and he raises a brow as he turns towards Charlotte. What does she mean by “they tried that”? Did Y/N have other dates with Jack Swagger, and she only told Charlotte about it? Why is it bothering him so much that Y/N goes on dates with other boys? She is only his best friend, he has no right to decide who she can date. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as his friends’ voices come back into focus.

“I got it!” Jasper exclaims, snapping his fingers. “We need someplace to turn into a fake restaurant. Okay? Some place nobody knows about; somewhere underground.”

“So?” Charlotte raises a brow.

“I say we make a fake restaurant in Henry’s house!”

“No.” Henry deadpans, letting his arms drop to his sides.

He doesn’t want to get involved in this. He doesn’t want to make up a fake restaurant so that Y/N can enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. And he especially doesn’t want it to happen at his house. Because if it happens at his house, it means he has to be there, and he has to be forced to watch his friend enjoy her date with some stupid international celebrity when she should be enjoying a nice date in a nice, real restaurant with him– Oh.

Henry bites down on his lips. Take a deep breath, he thinks. He inhales deeply and then, he remembers what Piper said when she called earlier today.

“Why not?” Ray asks.

“There’s a hawk in my house.” Henry answers, silently thanking his idiot dad for bringing a hawk to the house.

“There’s a hawk in your house?” Schwoz questions.

“That’s what Piper said.” Henry shrugs. “I may need to crash here ‘til the hawk leaves.” He adds.

Good thing there is a hawk in his house simply because his father had wanted to get rid of a cricket. It doesn’t make any sense, and Henry hadn’t asked his sister for the details, but right now he was glad he wouldn’t be making up a fake restaurant in his house.

“Okay…” Charlotte trails out, thinking. “So we’ll do it in the Man Cave.”

“Do what in the Man Cave?” Ray wonders, looking at her.

“Make it a secret restaurant so Y/N and Jack can have their date.”

“No! We are not turning the Man Cave into a secret restaurant.”

Oh, no. If they turn the Man Cave into a fake restaurant, it means that Henry, and perhaps Charlotte, will have to pretend to be waiters for the night, and Henry isn't sure he can act the part. Well, if it were for anyone else, he’s pretty sure he could, but not for Y/N. Luckily for him, there’s no way Ray would agree to Charlotte’s idea but the elevator doors ding open, and out steps Y/N. She’s got that hopeful look in her eyes, and Henry knows she’d heard them from inside the elevator. He silently curses under his breath. There go his hopes of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack Swagger.

“You owe me, Ray.” Y/N says, tilting her head. “You burned down my kitchen.”

She raises a brow expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry shifts on his feet, body tensing as he clenches his jaw. Deep down he hopes that Ray will say no, but Y/N is using her convincing look that none of them can resist, when she’d stare at you intensely until you give up, and she’s backed up by Charlotte, who’s standing next to Y/N and who’s using her famous judgemental look, with her hands on her hips.

“You owe me.” Y/N says again, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

Ray groans, throwing his head back in defeat. “Fine! We’ll turn the Man Cave into a restaurant!”

Y/N squeals out excitedly, turning around to embrace Charlotte in a tight hug, before she goes back inside the elevator, closing the doors behind her and the mechanical whirring activates to indicate that Y/N has gone up to Junk’N’Stuff, the store a half-mile above the Man Cave.

Henry’s shoulders drop, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants, a million thoughts running haywire in his brain. Charlotte notices it, and a smile begins to grow in the corner of her lips. She shakes her head in disbelief before she nudges Jasper’s side, pointing at Henry with her chin. Jasper raises a brow, and he looks back at Charlotte with a knowing smile of his own.

—

“Sorry I’m late.” Henry says begrudgingly as he steps out of the elevator. “The hawk grabbed my tie and wouldn’t give it back. Luckily, my dad distracted it with his face.”

“Is he okay?” Jasper asks his friend.

“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s got like… razor talons and like, a knife beak. So.”

“No, no. I meant your dad.”

“Oh! No, he’s in serious pain.” He pauses. “This place looks, uh… great…”

Henry looks around. Silver and pastel purple curtains cover the entirety of the Man Cave, hiding away anything hero-related like the tubes or the sprocket. Three tables are set for two, with silver tablecloths, white plates and silver cutlery, wine glasses and pastel purple napkins to match with the curtains. A grand white piano with fake candles on it stands in the corner, where the couch usually is, and the floor of the Man Cave is covered with a variety of used red carpets to hide the blue and red logo that’s usually visible on the tiled floor. Henry also notices the white peonies and Calla lilies that form one bouquet on the centre of each table, Y/N’s favourite flowers.

There’s a tugging at his heart as he takes in his surroundings. His mind is telling him that this is not right; and he wonders why he is doing all this, but then he remembers. He did participate in burning Y/N’s kitchen, so he owed her this, as much as Ray and Jasper did. He is surprised that they even managed to create a romantic fake restaurant in the Man Cave in the first place, but it doesn’t mean that he cannot loathe the idea of Y/N having a date with someone.

“Where’s Ray?” Henry eventually asks Jasper to try to forget about his unresolved feelings for Y/N.

“Chef’s in the kitchen.” Jasper answers, shrugging.

“Wh– where’s the kitchen?”

“Behind the soundproof curtain.”

“Whaaaaat?”

Henry trails out dumbfounded as Jasper mouths “I know”. Ray’s voice reaches their ears almost immediately as Henry slightly pulls open the curtain to make sure Jasper’s telling him the truth about it being soundproof.

“Are you kidding me?!” Ray shouts exasperatedly. “I just had it! How could I lose– it was here two seconds ago! I swear on my father’s prepurchased burial plot–”

Henry closes the curtain, then turns back to Jasper. “Hm. Chef sounds mad.”

“Yeah, we should check on him.” Jasper agrees.

The two friends step through the soundproof curtain, and they see Ray frantically looking around for something, flailing his arms around with two lit flares in each of his hands.

“Oh, come on!” Ray yells.

“Woah, whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?” Henry asks, raising a brow. Anything to get his mind off of Y/N.

“I can’t find my fifth flare!” Ray whines. “And if I don’t have all five flares, it’s ruined!”

“Put the flares away man. They’re for emergencies only!”

“Or for playing Truth or Flare!” Jasper adds.

“It’s fine. I just had the thing! Where– it was here a second ago!”

Ray keeps muttering to himself as he searches for his flare inside the made-up kitchen. He pivots on his feet, his back toward the teenagers, and Henry sighs exasperatedly when he spots the flare inside of Ray’s backpocket.

“Found it!” He says. “I found it!” He goes to grab a dish towel. “Stop. Move.”

“Where is it?” Ray asks again, more to himself.

“Dude, you gotta stop lighting flares in kitchens.” Henry deadpans as he grabs the lit flare from Ray’s pocket.

“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?”

Henry and Jasper exchange a look, before they try to pry the flares away from Ray’s hands.

“Okay, hand them over.” Jasper says when Ray tries to resist.

“Give them to me man.” Henry groans. “We’re done. We’re done! We’re done!”

“Ah! You’re ruining my process! No, don’t put them in there! Don’t put that– Oh…”

Ray whines again as he sees the two teenagers throwing his flares into a steaming pot of water. Henry wipes his hands over the black apron tied around his waist just as Jasper’s phone beeps with an alert. He quickly checks it, and he adjusts the bowtie around his neck.

“Okay. Y/N and Jack Swagger are close.” He says, putting his phone in his pocket. “I gotta go up to Junk’N’Stuff, meet Charlotte, and pretend it’s a fake store.”

“It is a fake store.” Henry snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly. This guy gets it.”

Henry shakes his head in disbelief. So much for trying to forget about his feelings.

—

“I am so sorry, we are fully committed this evening. There are no tables available– Madam President.” Jasper hangs up the phone, raising his head as the shop’s bell dings. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there because I was just on the phone with– Y/N?”

Y/N stands awkwardly in the middle of the shop when Jasper finally acknowledges her presence, but he frowns when he notices she stands there, alone. Charlotte stands behind her, with a sad look on her features and she takes a tentative step towards her friend.

“Are you okay Y/N?” Charlotte asks. “Where’s Jack Swagger?”

“He– he bailed on me.”

Y/N chokes out, trying to keep her tears at bay. She knows how much effort her friends put into creating this fake underground restaurant just for her to have her date with Jack, she can’t cry in front of them. And yet, she did not expect Jack to bail on her when she was inside a taxi and on her way to pick him up from his hotel. She couldn’t call her friends to tell them to cancel everything, she didn’t have the heart to. They did all this for her, so she could have a quiet date with a celebrity she’d known since she was ten; she couldn’t bail out on her friends after what they’ve done for her. And yeah, she only ever agreed to go on a date with Jack to forget about her unresolved feelings for someone else, and she knew it probably wouldn’t have worked out between her and Jack, but it had been nice to know that someone cared enough about her to take her out on a date. She wasn’t even mad that her date wasn’t about to happen, she was upset because her friends had created a fake restaurant for her and Jack, and he’d bailed on her at the last minute.

Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from the cold, and she hugs herself tightly as Charlotte puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jasper gets off from the chair he’s been sitting on, and he walks around the cashier counter to join his two friends.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jasper wonders, genuine concern in his voice.

“H– he texted me. I was already in a taxi on my way here. I was supposed to pick him up on the way, when he texted. Said he couldn’t make it, superstar stuff he said…”

“Y/N… You could have called us.” Charlotte says. “To tell us your date was cancelled.”

“N– no. You guys made up a fake restaurant in the Man Cave so that I could have my date with Jack. It wouldn’t have been fair to you guys if I had cancelled, not after all the effort you must have put into doing whatever’s below us. I– I’m gonna go down there, and I’m gonna have a girl’s dinner by myself.”

Charlotte smiles sadly, before an idea pops in her mind. She lifts her head to look at Jasper, and an understanding passes between them. Charlotte knows what she has to do.

“Don’t be ridiculous Y/N. I’ll have a girl’s dinner with you.” Charlotte lies, having another idea in mind, but Y/N seems to buy it.

“Dinner for two, then?” Jasper chimes in as he walks back behind the counter.

“Yeah, okay.” Y/N laughs. “We have a reservation for Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

“Ah! There it is. Right this way, ladies.”

Y/N and Charlotte look at each other before laughing at Jasper’s antics as he leads the way to the elevator in the back shop.

Down in the Man Cave, Henry waits by the white grand piano as the elevator dings open and out come Y/N, Charlotte, and Jasper. The first thing he notices then, is the absence of Jack Swagger. He frowns, and his grip on the fake menus tightens. His jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth, but his features soften again when his eyes land back on Y/N.

Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat as he looks at her. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with her hair cascading down her shoulders and the mesmerized smile hanging on her red, lipstick-covered lips. She spins around on her feet, taking in the sight of the remodelled Man Cave for the occasion, and the long dress she wears twirls as she does so. Her soft chuckle is like music to Henry when it reaches his ears, pulling him out of his reverie just as Jasper and Charlotte walk up to him. But his eyes never leave Y/N, not even when Jasper drags him behind the soundproof curtain until he can’t see her anymore.

“What’s going on?” Schwoz asks, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “Why’s Henry all lovestruck?”

That seems to pull Henry out of his trance. “No, I’m not!” He says, shaking his head. “Jasper, what’s going on? Why is Y/N on her own?”

“Oh! Jack Swagger bailed on her.” Jasper answers nonchalantly.

“What?!”

“Yeah. He texted her when she was on her way to pick him up in a taxi.”

“So, she came on her own?” Schwoz questions, raising a brow. “Then, what’s the point of a date?”

“She didn’t want to cancel, because she knows how much effort we put in turning the Man Cave into a fake restaurant. She’s going to have a girl’s dinner with Charlotte instead.”

“Well, actually… I lied.”

All four men -including Ray, who’d been eavesdropping on the conversation while stirring a pot- jump on their feet, startled by Charlotte who’s now standing behind Jasper, the soundproof curtain closed behind her.

“Y– you lied to Y/N?” Jasper asks incredulously. “W– why?”

“I thought we were on the same page!” Charlotte groans, throwing her head back.

“Did you– did you leave Y/N on her own?” Ray asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Charlotte.

“No, Piper’s here!”

“Wh– What? Piper’s here? Wh– why?” Henry questions.

“She thought she’d see Jack Swagger with Y/N, so she came to play the piano.”

“But Piper doesn’t know how to play the piano?”

“That’s what I said! She was gonna use her phone to play slow jams, and she’d just fake playing.”

“Uh, makes sense.” Schwoz shrugs as he nods approvingly.

“Any-Ray…” Ray interrupts. “Why did you lie to Y/N, Charlotte?”

“Come on! I can’t be the only one smart enough to have figured it out, can I?” When no one says anything, Charlotte says, “Henry is going to take Y/N out for dinner here.”

Henry drops the fake menus he’d been holding onto all this time, and he whips his head towards Charlotte, blinking several times as if she’d grown several heads and he couldn’t believe it.

“Wh– wha– what?” He breathes out in shock. “Wh– wh– why?! I can’t take Y/N out for dinner, have you lost your mind Char?”

“Hen, we know you like her.” Charlotte implies, and her statement is followed by a chorus of hm.

“Wh– what? N– no, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.” Jasper states. “Now that Char’s said it out loud, we know what she’s talking about. You’re not good at hiding it.”

“Even Ray could tell you like her.” Charlotte adds.

“Hey!” Ray whines. “But it’s true though. You do like her.”

“Yeah! You’ve been doing oogly eyes at Y/N whenever she comes to work.” Schwoz carries on, nodding.

“What does that even mean, Schwoz?!” Henry wonders.

“You can’t take your eyes off her!”

“Schwoz’s right.” Charlotte agrees. “You even started to read her favorite book. And you hate reading.”

Henry sighs, throwing his head back and lifting his arms up in defeat.

“Okay, fine! Fine.” He says. “So, what if I like her? What am I supposed to do?”

“Take her out on a date, Kid.” Ray answers, motioning towards the soundproof curtains.

“But what if she doesn’t like me that way?”

“But, what if she does?”

Henry glares at Ray, before he glances towards Charlotte. Surely she’d been joking when she suggested he takes Y/N out on a date here in the Man Cave turned restaurant. But she looks at him with a knowing smile, arms crossed over her chest, and she’s backed up by Jasper, who has a smug expression plastered on his face.

Henry sighs. It’s true that he hasn’t been really excited to play-pretend being a waiter in a fake restaurant, because it meant being forced to watch Y/N enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. It’s true, now that he thinks about it, he’d felt slightly jealous when Y/N first mentioned her date with Jack Swagger earlier today. And it’s true that he’d felt slightly relieved when he found out that Jack Swagger bailed on Y/N. So, what is he so afraid of now? Charlotte’s offering him a chance to take Y/N out on a date, in this fake restaurant they’d spent all afternoon setting up, why doesn’t he want to take it?

He glances at the soundproof curtains, knowing Y/N’s behind with his sister, and Henry can hear the thumping of his heart the more he thinks about how she looks tonight. Her bright smile, the wonder in her eyes as she’d looked around the remodeled Man Cave for the occasion, her H/C cascading down her shoulders, or how her dress fitted her perfectly as she twirled around.

“Earth to Henry. Earth to Henry.”

Henry blinks, pulled out of his thoughts by Ray’s voice, and when he turns his head back towards his friends, he knows what he has to do. He fumbles with the knot around his waist, before handing his apron to Jasper.

“Why are you giving me this?” Jasper asks, raising a brow.

“I’m gonna take Y/N out on a date.” Henry says confidently. “Give me your tux jacket.”

Jasper grumbles and reluctantly gives his jacket to his friend. Lucky for the both of them, they wear the same size so the jacket fits Henry like a glove.

“Let’s get this date on the road!” Ray shouts as he fist-bumps the air, returning to his cooking.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t blow up another kitchen with those flares.” Charlotte sighs, watching as Ray childishly lights up a flare.

“Thanks.” Henry whispers before he turns to Jasper.

“Yeah, I guess I’ll be the waiter tonight.”

“Thanks man.”

—

Henry steps out of the made-up kitchen, instantly spotting Y/N by the grand white piano, laughing as Piper pretends to be a professional pianist. He nervously adjusts the tie around his neck, wiping his moist hands on his trousers as he walks over to the two teenage girls. Tentatively, he puts a hand on Y/N’s back, and she turns her head around to look at him.

“Oh, hey Hen.” She smiles. “What’s up?”

“Char told me what happened,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Where is Charlotte, by the way?”

“In the kitchen, making sure Ray doesn’t blow it up.”

“Oh.”

Henry can hear the disappointment in her voice, and he instantly feels guilty, dropping his hand from the small of her back. He swallows nervously, and he hears the rustling of the curtain behind him, meaning Jasper’s waiting to settle them at their table.

“Y/N?” Henry calls for her attention.

She lifts her head, eyes looking into his. “Hm?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks her, rubbing a hand against his neck out of nervousness.

“Wh– what?”

“This is going to be interesting.” Piper whispers under her breath as she watches.

“I, uh… I’d like to take you out on a date if, uh… that’s okay with you?” Henry tries again, albeit clumsily.

“Are you– are you asking because Jack Swagger bailed on me?”

“N– no! No!” Henry shakes his head, hands dropping to his sides. “No! I’m– Listen, Y/N, I– I like you. I mean, I like like you, Y/N. And I’d love it if you’d go on a date with me.”

“You– you like me?” Y/N stutters, blinking.

“Yeah, I do.”

Y/N lets out a trembling breath. She doesn’t know what to think; she’s had the longest crush on her best friend that she doesn’t even remember when she’d first caught feelings for him. He’d been the whole reason she agreed to go on a date with Jack Swagger in the first place; to forget about her confusing feelings for Henry. But here he is now, after she’d been bailed on, asking her out on a date in a fake restaurant he’d put up all afternoon with the rest of their friends. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart as she looks back to Henry. What an interesting night this turns out to be, she thinks.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Henry Hart.” Y/N says eventually, smiling.

“Shall we?”

Henry asks as he offers her his arm to take, and shivers run down his spine when her hand finds the crook of his elbow. He looks at her with a smile, before he leads her away from the grand piano, where Piper resumes fake-playing a slow tune, and towards Jasper who holds the fake menus in his hands.

“If the two lovebirds would follow me,” Jasper says as he slips into the role of a waiter in a fancy restaurant. “We have your table ready right over here.”

“Thanks.” Henry says as he pulls the chair for Y/N.

Y/N sits down, placing her small purse on her thighs as she waits for Henry to sit across from her. She spots the flowers in the centre, and she smiles. Her favourites. For a minute she wonders whose idea it was for the flowers, and after pondering it she comes to the conclusion that it had either been Charlotte, or Henry.

“So…” Y/N trails out, a smirk on her lips, as Henry sits down. “What’s this place called?”

“It’s called Food.” Jasper answers proudly.

“That’s dumb.” Y/N snorts.

“Is it? What if I told you it’s ‘food’ spelled with a U with two dots over it.”

“Now, that’s interesting.” She glances at Henry, who smiles sheepishly.

Jasper hands them the menus. “Take your time, I’ll be back for your orders.”

Y/N gives Jasper a grateful smile, watching as he disappears behind the silver curtains. For a short minute, she can even hear Ray yelling there and she cannot suppress a laugh as she shakes her head in disbelief.

“This place is nice.” She says, looking at Henry again. “For a fake restaurant.”

“Right? So private.”

“Henry, we’re the only ones here. Of course, it’s private.”

“Ye– yeah, I know. I just– I like the idea of our first date being private. Y’know, without anyone around.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe that your sister is eying us from the piano, and that everyone else here has poked their head through the curtain to spy on us.”

Y/N finishes explaining with a laugh, and Henry looks over his shoulder to see Ray, Schwoz, Charlotte, and Jasper with their heads poking through the soundproof curtain, one head after the other. He frowns, giving them his best menacing stare, and all of them scurry off back behind the curtains. Then he glances towards his sister, his lips pressed into a thin line when he sees her with her phone in her hand as if she were going to take a picture. He wants to tell her off, but the words get lost in his throat when he feels a hand above his on the table, and he turns his head back around to look at Y/N. She’s smiling that soft smile she always wears around the people she loves, and Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat again. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks as he flips his hand around so that his palm touches hers.

“I’m sorry this isn’t the date you had in mind.” He tells her, holding her hand in his. “And I’m sorry Jack Swagger bailed on you. And that you’re stuck with me inst–”

“Henry.” She interrupts him, smiling. “I’m glad it’s you I’m stuck with. And it may be a fake restaurant, with fake chefs, a fake waiter and a fake pianist, but I’m happy it’s you here with me.”

“R– really?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I’m not sure it would have worked out between me and Jack, if something ever were to happen… I don’t think I’m cut out to be the girlfriend of a superstar.” She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully.

“And what about being the girlfriend of an awesome sidekick to a superhero?” Henry asks with a smug smile on his lips.

“Henry Hart, are you asking me to be your girlfriend at the beginning of our very first date?”

Y/N questions him, letting go of his hand as she leans over the table, resting her elbows on top of the silver table cloth, and she rests her chin atop her linked hands. A playful smirk grows on her lips as she watches him, raising a brow as she waits for his answer.

“And what if I am?” He says then, mimicking her movements. “What then?”

Y/N hums, feigning deeply thinking. “I don’t know. Do you know any awesome sidekicks here in Swellview?”

“I might know of one. Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name is Kid Danger.”

“The name does ring a bell.” She says playfully, leaning further over the table. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“I heard he works in a store called Junk’N’Stuff.” Henry answers, leaning over the table until his forehead touches hers. “And I heard he’s really Henry Hart behind the mask.”

“Well then, Henry Hart,” Y/N says with a smile. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

#henry danger #henry hart x reader #henry hart imagines #henry hart

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zorilleerrant · 3 days ago

Text

"You consider me your priestess?" the girl - the old woman, now, but you can still see her rosy cheeks the first time she came to visit you - asks you. It's hard to determine her tone of voice. She doesn't sound offended, at least, although she also doesn't sound like she believes you're a god. That, at least, is expected.

You wave your hand vaguely. You didn't get the gesture quite right, but humans always change their body language, and it's been too long since you needed to be human for anything. "It's not that you are. But you're the closest I've had in generations, and I would mark you one, if you want me to." You sit, casually, on a bench that wasn't there a moment before, hoping she'll do the same.

The old woman eyes it suspiciously. She's been here for every birthday since she found the place, and many informal days besides, and she knows there was never a bench here. Still, with a weary sigh, she sits beside you. "I'd like that, I think. I never had the test scores to join any of the big priesthoods. Get one over on them, a little bit." She laughs, and her teen years, writing scathing takedowns of theological papers, come back into view for a moment.

You touch her hand. There's a spark of magic. You don't need to, you never used to, but humans are more skeptical these days, and even your most devoted follower doesn't remember the old ways.

For a moment fleeting even by her standards, you wonder if she might have brought them back. But the fishing town isn't what it once was, and no one much makes the hike up here anymore, save curious children and nostalgic adults.

"Do you want me to do anything?" your priestess asks you, a wry smiling wrinkling the still plump curve of her cheeks. "Carry a sign, maybe? Rush into the town and curse their names for not giving you your due respect? I can do a mean scolding these days."

You laugh, hand still resting over hers. "If you like." The idea of her running among the fishmongers, giving over amulets with every sale, making rude gestures when they're refused, is incomparable. The only thing she really needs is The Book, though. You fold open your altar, the way she's done so many times, and bring out the box she admired enough to start polishing gently when she came to visit, telling you about her travels and her art.

"Oh, you again," your priestess says, in delight, laying a delicate hand on the smooth wood. "I learned woodworking and inlay because of you, you little scamp." When she draws her fingers down the sides, this time, the box opens, with a click she can barely hear. Her ears aren't what they once were. Her gasp is the same as it ever was, though, and she taps The Book reverently.

"I never had many rules, even back in the beginning," you tell her, opening the cover so she knows it's safe. "What ones I had don't matter so much, I think - although I'd ask you to be careful where you summon storms, if you try it." You don't know if she has the power for that, anymore. She delved deep into magic in her mid-life crisis, but you've rarely seen her use it since, and you don't know if hers has waned or blossomed in her twilight years.

She looks over the spells. She can read the annotations, still, at least. "It's a lot of power for one person." She flexes her fingers, summoning wisps of what might be the core of some major working, if she concentrated a little harder. "Would you mind if I taught these to people? Not to join your priesthood, mind, just so there could be a little more magic in the world."

You pause. You should have considered that. Many of your siblings have left their words and their magics to the world as their respect faded away, and even more have begun recovery as lost arts. You didn't know your priestess was a teacher. You knew she'd taught a few times, when the calling struck her, but never that she felt the need in her heart. "Of course," you say. The spells are mostly weak now, you think. The time for hiding them is long past. If there's something in there that can help, so be it.

She grins at you. Her teeth are still hardy, and the candlelight flashes pleasingly against them. "Of course you'd mind, or of course you wouldn't? Don't give me any loopholes, now, Your Divinity," she laughs at her own joke, the way she started doing when she broke free of childish attempts at maturity, but still, she waits for your answer, taking your hand in hers again.

"Share them however you'd like," you tell her, knowing that it means she'll record it down to scans and recreations, "the knowledge within is yours." It's clear she'll get years of delight out of it. You don't know how much she might change the world of the handful of enthusiasts she chooses to work with her. It's a nice bookend for a life full of adventure, you think, a discovery like that.

She kisses the book, gently, on the gilded cover. Then, almost as an afterthought, she kisses your cheek as well. "Thank you," she says. Then she opens it again, absorbed in the pages, well past when the evening grows dark. You keep the candles burning higher for her, so she never has to stop her perusal. It's soothing, to watch a priestess once again hard at work. She looks up. "Is this the gift?"

"What?" you ask, caught off guard. Even through all your disciples, you never managed to learn which times connect to each other in the mind of a human. You'd thought that question long forgotten, and hadn't planned on answering right now.

"The gift you said you wanted to give me. Is The Book the gift?" she asks, in confusion. Books are wonderful, powerful things, of course, but they aren't secret. Hidden, often, and protected, and sometimes held to only the most intimate of worshipers, but they're nothing unexpected, not for a deity to give.

You lean back on the bench you never rose from, and wonder if you should bring in desks for those she plans to teach. "No. I was going to offer you your choice of afterlife, when the time comes." You watch her as she frowns. You wonder if she already has an answer in mind. You wonder if she knew since she was knee high with a scraped arm, or since she was a teenager bent on escaping her classmates, or since she was learning to grow and just choosing her passion. She just looks at you, not answering.

Then, weary minutes later - weary for her, where each night brings aches the day didn't; you're happy to wait - she asks, almost rudely, "not soon, I hope?" Her chin juts out as it used to.

"Not so soon for you," you say, thoughtfully, "although too soon for me, I must admit."

She nods, still cradling The Book carefully. "I thought, once you'd made me your priestess, I'd end up going where all your servants go," she says, sounding, of all thing, patient about it. You don't know how much she knows about your afterlife. You've never discussed it with her. Even when you were popular, once, that was never much of the details that caught people's eye.

"Normally only monks go there," you say, not that you'd discourage her, if she wanted to stay always by your side. "It's a place for quiet contemplation, mostly. Even of my priesthood, only the ones who valued their silence ever stayed." You can see her, in a long gown, roaming the halls in a circle, thinking. You can't see her enjoying it for more than a short time.

"You'd have to send me away," she says, ruefully. Then she pauses to think. "You won't pick for me? I can pick?"

Still, you think, she might have you picking her home, anyway. So many of yours did. Even the ones who earned the highest honors left everything in your hands, and here she is a priestess of moments only, ready to upset everything. Or nothing, if you ask her not to. You close her hands around The Book again.

"Think on it," you say, and wait for next year.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

#look I said something #my writing

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rinsthighsweat · 2 days ago

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hi i saw your latest works and they are so good. you wrote that you write nsfw but you dont do it well so can i ask for something light if you dont mind? bllk characters who are more stoic/dominant and all that in normal life but with a very dominant s/o in bed? just headcanons if you want 🦅

Hey anon!!! Thank you so much! And sure, I tried to do it the best I could, I hope you like it, I made it like a mixture of headcanons and fanfics. You didn't name any characters so I decided to put the ones I know the most and like writing about, I hope you don't mind that! Oh yeah, also... Sorry for the delay, I had busy days.

Light nsfw! In these scenarios Rin is already an adult.

They are not dominant in everything

Rin, Barou, Kaiser, Shidou and Aiku | masterlist

۶ৎ Rin Itoshi

Rin has always been in control of his life, his training, his emotions, his career. But when you confidently take the lead in the bedroom, it shakes his world in a way he never anticipated.

The first time you pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with a mischievous smirk, he froze. His sharp eyes widened slightly before narrowing, his voice a mix of defiance and curiosity. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He tries to maintain his stoicism, but the way your hands explore his body, coupled with your commanding tone, has his breath hitching.

Rin isn’t particularly vocal, but the way his body reacts, tense muscles relaxing under your touch, the soft gasps he can’t suppress, says everything.

You teasingly call him out for being so obedient, and his face flushes red as he mutters, “I’m not… I just…” before trailing off, completely at your mercy.

Post-intimacy, he’ll try to act indifferent, turning his face away while his ears burn red. “Don’t think I’m letting you get away with that next time.” But deep down, he craves more.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Barou Shoei

Barou doesn’t relinquish control easily, and the idea of someone dominating him initially makes him scoff. “Like hell you’re calling the shots.” But when you assert yourself, pinning him down, he’s speechless for the first time.

He fights it at first, growling lowly as if to test you, but the firm, confident way you handle him stirs something unexpected within him.

Barou is a mix of frustration and desire, his breaths coming out in heavy pants as he realizes how much he enjoys being at your mercy.

You teasingly tell him he’s more obedient than he lets on, and his prideful glare softens into something almost vulnerable. “Don’t push your luck… but keep going.”

He secretly loves the way you take control, your strength and confidence drawing out a side of him he’s never shown anyone else.

Afterward, he grumbles about being “too lenient,” but his actions betray him as he pulls you close and mutters, “Next time, I’m in charge… maybe.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Michael Kaiser

Kaiser’s cocky attitude doesn’t falter easily, and when you first suggest taking the lead, he smirks and leans back, arms crossed. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, liebling.”

His confidence wavers the moment you take control, your bold movements and teasing words leaving him breathless. He tries to regain his composure but fails miserably.

Kaiser loves the way you dominate him, your assertiveness making his usual bravado crumble. His gasps and groans become more desperate the longer you keep him on edge.

He’ll try to tease you back, but his words falter as you keep him under your control. The way you smirk at his vulnerability both frustrates and excites him.

Post-intimacy, he chuckles softly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. “You really know how to leave a man speechless. I might let you take charge more often… if you ask nicely.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is chaos incarnate, and he thrives on unpredictability. When you take the lead, his initial reaction is pure excitement. “Oh, so you’ve got a wild side, huh? Bring it on.”

He’s the most vocal of them all, moaning, growling, and tossing out filthy comments that only spur you on further. “That’s it, babe. Show me what you’ve got.”

Despite his playful resistance, he loves being at your mercy, the way you tease and control him making his mind spin.

Shidou is all about pushing limits, so he encourages you to be as dominant as you want, his cocky grin never fading even as he’s begging for more.

Afterward, he’s sprawled out with a satisfied smirk, panting as he pulls you into his arms. “Damn, you’re good. Next time, let’s see who can outdo who.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

۶ৎ Oliver Aiku

Aiku is smooth and confident, used to being the one in control. But when you turn the tables on him, his usual charm slips, replaced by something more raw and vulnerable.

He watches you with wide eyes as you push him down, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh? Didn’t expect this from you… but I like it.”

He’s surprisingly submissive under your dominance, his deep groans and soft murmurs betraying how much he enjoys being led.

Aiku can’t stop complimenting you throughout, his voice husky as he whispers, “You’re incredible, you know that? Keep going.”

He’s left in awe of your confidence and control, his usual suave demeanor replaced with genuine admiration.

Afterward, he’s all smiles, pulling you close and tracing lazy circles on your back. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? Guess I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

#bllk #bluelock #headcanon #rin itoshi #rin x reader #blue lock headcanons #shidou ryusei #shidou x reader #barou shouei #barou x reader #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #oliver aiku #aiku x reader

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bluestrawberry7 · 2 days ago

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definitive height ranking of the main ten bg3 characters

im right they told me themselves

10. last place is minthara lmao she's 5'3" (161cm) max. I love her being tiny and feral. still absolutely ripped, don't get me wrong, just... on a smaller scale. also drow are canonically the shortest elves (drizzt is 5'4"/162cm), and I know women are taller than men, so she'd still be a little under average, but its more middling in menzoberranzen. and she's still above goblins and stuff. but then she joins the party and is just towered over by all these men and surface elves and she is compensating

9. shadowheart is 5'6". she is the physical embodiment of y/n. I guess this is a little short for elves, because of the gender thing, but I just cannot see her being defined as "tall" or "short". like she's short, in comparison to the other companions, but that only emphasizes their enormity because she is so perfectly average.

8. I like wyll being 5'8"/173cm or so bc he just so thoroughly embodies short king energy. think of that marcello hernandez bit where he's like short kings put in the work, not because we wanted to, but because we had to. I'm sorry but wyll is just way too kind and good at dancing to have lived his whole life over 5'9". bro is tom holland. (his dad is comfortably over six feet. this is definitely not a source of contention)

7. astarion, I think, is canonically 5'9"/175cm, which is tall for male elves, but not by a ridiculous margin. i think it fits into him being like, default-ly desirable, where he sort of fits into a lot of different relationship molds without it looking weird, because its a whole part of his character than he's conventionally attractive. like the vampire stuff is the interesting part, but without that he looks averagely, disposably pretty, which is why so many people see right through him.

6. gale is exactly one inch taller than astarion. I like him being a kind of remus-lupin tall, where he like slouches a lot and doesn't super recognize it, which is amplified by the fact that he spent the majority of his adult life exclusively around tara and a literal goddess. he doesn't really grasp the social implications.

5. lae'zel ends up around gale-height (5'10"/178cm). I know some people swear by shortzel, but I like the idea of githyanki being gangling and alien. her in-game model doesn't look like it should be that tall, but her limbs are just a bit too long. I like her walking around camp in an uncanny valley way, where she looks so clearly 5'6" until she's standing right next to you.

4. I picture jaheira in her prime as taylor swift with elf ears. she's just under six foot, or ~181cm. its that whole thing about presidents/authority figures tending to be taller, because people like to literally look up to their leaders for some reason. she just has that confidence. she's not like outrageously tall, and she's totally comfortable with minsc etc being taller than her, but she's just. six feet tall.

3. karlach!! is 6'2"/188cm!!! (not including horns). I've seen people say she's a little more than that, but I don't think most people are grasping how tall 6'2" is, especially if you're like fully built. like, rhea ripley is 5'7". karlach is a UNIT. anything above 6'2" is reaching freak-of-nature status, where height is like. the only thing you see when you look at them.

2. speaking of freaks of nature, minsc is 6'4"/193cm, and he has been since he was like 13. he has lived his whole life being taller than 97% of people he meets. he had to be pulled aside in gym class and warned that he couldn't wrestle the other kids anymore because he might crush them. and he was heartbroken!! because he's like!! a great dane!!!! and he just wants to play!!

1. halsin is comically large. ≥6'5"/196cm. he is a statistical anomaly. i think he canonically assumes he's part orc, but I think it's funnier if he's literally just an elf. his parents are 5'6". he's never even worked out. doctors hate him.

the only race-related halsin theory i'll accept is that he's a bear who turned into a human and not the other way around

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eclectic-sassycoweyes · 2 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @everlastingday @henrygrass @nisbanisba @whatsintheboxmh @alrightbuckaroo @carlossreaders

An idea for a future/Jonah fic merged with Ranch Fic which I believed I've shared a bit of before. It won't leave my head. Here is a snippet from a chapter in which Jonah starts preschool and brings home a gift in the form a stomach bug they all get to take their turn with. Look how happy the little guy is with himself.

Thus this snippet is also me jumping aboard the Carlos Sickfic train whoo Niz you're still the captain and the driver I'm just joining the ride for a bit! Warnings for descriptions of nausea and a mention of throwing up but no more than those exact words.

He kind of wants to check in on Jonah and TK, wants to say goodbye to Jonah before he leaves for half the day but his eyelids are already drooping and the nausea still sits on the edge of his consciousness. He feels like he has a small window of time wherein if he just moves very little and goes to sleep soon he might be able to skip the next bout of nausea.

His wish is granted anyway as the bedroom door opens, Jonah entering first along with TK’s voice reminding him to be gentle, TK himself emerging last.

“He wanted to show you the dragon he chose,” TK says as Jonah climbs carefully up the bed to sit next to Carlos.

“Hey Jonah," Carlos says, fighting to keep his eyes open as he pushes Jonah’s bangs away from his forehead. He’s gonna need a haircut again soon. “Did you choose a good one?”

“Look!” Jonah says, pulling at the hem of his shirt and puffing his chest out, proudly showcasing the pink dragon on the front.

“Wow, mijo, that’s a really good choice,” Carlos says, making Jonah beam up at TK at the confirmation that they chose right.

“Are you gonna wear your pajamas to work, Carlos?” Jonah parrots TK from earlier. He does that a lot these days. Sometimes it makes him say weirdly wise things that sound way too adult coming from his four year old voice which always makes Carlos laugh.

“Carlos gets to stay home and sleep some more, because he’s sick, remember? Just like you stayed home when you were sick.”

“Did you throw up?” Jonah asks, turning to Carlos with wide eyes. He looks a mix between concerned and intrigued.

“Yeah, but just like you I’ll feel better again in no time,” Carlos reassures with a out upon smile. He hopes he's right.

“Do you want an ice pop?” Jonah asks, remembering that had made him feel better.

“Maybe later,” Carlos smiles at him. “But that was a nice thought, mijo. Thank you.”

Jonah looks like he’s thinking hard trying to come up with something else that will magically heal Carlos. He’s so sweet and caring, just like his brother. TK interrupts him before he can suggest any more remedies, heartwarming as they are.

“Okay, buddy,” TK says. “Time for breakfast I think, so we can get to preschool on time.”

“Can we make omelets?” Jonah asks, sufficiently distracted. Carlos usually lets him ‘help’ when he makes omelets in the morning and Jonah loves being delegated with small but very important tasks.

TK chuckles. “Sure. I don’t know if I can make them as good as Carlos though,” he says. “You’ll have to ask him for the secret ingredient.”

“What’s the secret ingredient Carlos?”

Another time Carlos will tell Jonah how to make his favorite omelet, but right now Carlos can’t bear the thought of pronouncing the word of any food related item. “Love,” he says instead, ruffling Jonah’s hair, trying not to show that even the act of lifting his arm feels like a tremendous effort. Jonah frowns for a moment before he giggles like Carlos just said a super silly thing.

“Love? You can’t put love in an omelet Carlos!”

“Sure you can,” Carlos says. “You just have to make the omelet for someone you love and that’s how you put love into it.” He doesn’t know where the spontaneous pocket philosophy comes from and he hopes he hasn’t made a mistake in case the omelet TK and Jonah whip up for some reason isn’t to Jonah’s liking.

Kids don’t think that deep, he tells himself. Jonah will probably have forgotten about it in the time it takes them to go from the bedroom to the kitchen. And besides he fully trusts TK’s abilities when it comes to cooking.

His jumbled overthinking is interrupted by Jonah making his heart grow two sizes and do a little dance in his chest. “Then we have to make some for Carlos too TK! So we can put love in it!”

Unfortunately his stomach seems inspired by his heart to start matching its little dance routine. Thinking anymore about omelets, let alone one being made for him that he has to eat, isn’t helping. He feels his little window of time starting to close as the nausea begins tauntingly closing back in on him. Luckily TK seems to read it on his face. Or maybe he’s just turning visibly green.

“We’ll make some for him to save for later,” he says. Planting a soft kiss to Carlos forehead he tells him “You should try to finish that glass of water though, if you can. I’ll bring you a new one before we leave.”

Turning back to Jonah he says more loudly, "Now, can you say bye to Carlos so we can let him sleep?” to Carlos he says softly “You look ready to, baby.”

Carlos only hums in response.

Jonah rises up from his knees on the bed, putting him at eye level with Carlos as he wraps his little arms around his neck. “Bye, Carlos. Feel better,” he says before turning back to TK, putting his arms in the air to be lifted off the bed.

Carlos musters his last energy for a sincere “Bye Jonah. I love you,” But Jonah has apparently already moved on, or rather back to discussing what to put into the omelet, beside love.

“And ham,” he says as TK lifts him under the armpits and sets him back on the floor.

“And cheese!” he says, “And eggs and pepper and-”

“Okay buddy,” TK interrupts quickly, sending Carlos an apologetic wince before quickly ushering Jonah out of the bedroom, as he keeps listing ingredients.

Once the door is closed behind them, Carlos takes a few steadying breaths, the nausea thankfully retreating back to the peripherals. Having learned to listen to TK when it comes to medical advice, he sips the water until the glass is almost empty before he gingerly lays down, foregoing his own freshly clean pillowcase in favor of TK’s, and pulling their shared blanket up and over his body. He shifts a little to make himself as comfortable as he can and then closes his eyes.

He doesn’t hear when TK creeps in half an hour later to replace the near empty glass of water, or the front door opening and closing as they leave to drop Jonah off at preschool.

OPEN TAG

And tagging @herefortarlos @emsprovisions @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @ironheartwriter

@bonheur-cafe @ladytessa74 @sapphic--kiwi @literateowl @lemonlyman-dotcom

@rangersoup @theghostofashton @everlastingday @henrygrass

@freneticfloetry @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders @chicgeekgirl89

@the-126-family @goodways @carlos-in-glasses @whatsintheboxmh @tailoredshirt

@nisbanisba @nancys-braids @your-catfish-friend @rmd-writes @goldenskykaysani

@captain-gillian @reyesstrand @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @tellmegoodbye

@carlos-tk @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @pimento-playing-hopscotch @firstprince-history-huh @thisbuildinghasfeelings

@never-blooms @lightningboltreader @welcometololaland

I finally made a taglist so lmk if you want to be removed from it or added to it!:)

#wip wednesday #tarlos #911 lone star #jonah morgan #future fic #my wip's #mar writes something

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queervegancryptid · 2 days ago

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Joker and I agree on one thing, I guess.

Following you and a couple other people on here has made it clear that I really need to read more comics. As a kid, I was raised in a rural area by conservative parents. Not outright abusive, mostly, but definitely not people I could be myself around, and basically anytime I was enthusiastic about something, people gave me shit for it. So if childhood was an exercise in learning to hide in plain sight in order to survive, adulthood for me has been a journey of letting myself be myself and explore stuff I wasn't allowed to explore as a kid.

It's also been a journey of realizing how much the adults in my life fully failed me as a kid. I only really understood how much their shit affected me when I first really felt loved and accepted by someone, without having to hide, and that didn't happen until I was past 30. Now that I'm able to start making moves to sort my shit out, the Orange Menace is being sworn in, so there are about to be more forces than ever invested in keeping me miserable and beaten down.

So in a very real sense, I'm scared about what's happening politically. I'm angry, too, for obvious reasons, many of which are not personal to me. I don't have to be an undocumented immigrant to think they should be treated with basic human decency, for example. I don't have to be Jewish to be horrified by people chanting shit about them. I don't have to be a target at all to give a fuck, but I'm trans, so I have the distinction of being labeled a problem and the knowledge that I'm in one of the last groups that will be defended when shit hits the fan.

But I am angry and frankly annoyed for personal reasons. And one of those reasons is that I spent my life hiding and trying to be acceptable, and when it didn't work, I thought it was my fault. I'm not perfect, but I feel like the deck was stacked against me from the start, and making it my fault was just one big scam to keep me complacent. I'm annoyed that it fucking worked so well and for so long.

The annoyance also comes from the fact that these people are living rent-free in my head and controlling so much of my life. But that's part of how they make you feel helpless, you know? You focus on all the weight they're throwing around, and you get overwhelmed by the brutality and cruelty of it all, and you feel so exhausted that you start to wonder what the hell the point even is of talking about it.

But that's what they want. I've survived out of spite before, and I'll do it again. The last thing they want is for people like you and me to enjoy anything in life and find reasons to keep going, which is exactly why you have to keep finding reasons wherever you can, in whatever form they take. So I'm going to enjoy what I enjoy and explore what I want to explore, because finding some kind of joy and good in the world when and where I can is the only way I'm going to survive all the things that are coming.

Thank you for existing, by the way. Sorry I wrote a book on here. I'm going through some stuff, as you might have guessed lol

🚨WATCH: Donald Trump and JD Vance mockingly laugh at the National Prayer Service when the National Cathedral Bishop proclaims "let us pray for the most vulnerable."

These monsters are the antethesis of what Jesus preached.

#dc comics #us politics #long post is long #nik speaks #nik gets political

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 day ago

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Regarding the “Is Marinette a Stalker?” post, I want to say thank you! Because I did something like Marinette and self-doubted my younger-self’s actions. A bit of context, I’m (37 y/o, female) one of the many adults that loved MLBCN when it started airing. When I came disappointed at the show by S4, I turned to the fandom to look out for fanfics, and was surprised by the salty side.

Don’t get me wrong, I kinda get the why’s and the reasons, and even though I enjoyed a Mari-salt fic titled “The Schedule” (iirc), I… sorta felt ashamed at myself? When I was 19, I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too. Our university had a system only for students where we could do lots of administrative stuff, like choosing our classes. At my time, there used to be a search tool on it to look out for our classmates’ schedules; in my curiosity, I searched for his just to see if we shared free periods. (Btw, today I do feel that it was wrong that my university had that function).

At my defense, after finding my crush’s schedule, I also searched for my friends’, just so I could organize with them to set up a table for our LAN parties. At the end my feelings weren’t reciprocated, my heartbreak ocurred close the next semester’s start, so I searched his schedule one more time, but just to avoid having classes with him.

When I read that Mari having Adrien’s schedule was “stalker behavior” I was like “OMG, was I a stalker? And worse, I was legally an adult!”, but I can’t remember my friends being creeped out by me. I don’t know if it is a subject whose meaning has evolved as time went on, or maybe it can change according to our different cultural/countries’ POV. But we do crazy stuff when we are young-adults, and worse when we are adolescents, add first love/crush feelings, and well… (just look at Hey, Arnold!’s Helga, she had it bad for Arnold and went to do stuff that by today’s standards is a serious case of bullying).

If the issue is the “breach of privacy” and the “3 years”, well, the first one isn’t touched on the show, maybe Mari got the pattern by observation, or Alya helped by asking Nino, or maybe even Chloe said something loudly, or my personal fan-favorite: as Class Rep, Marinette has access to that information to make easy her duties! And as for the second issue, they are 13-14 years old, my bet is that if their school makes fixated schedules for its students, so it wouldn’t be difficult to guess Adrien’s schedule for the next 3-years, and since his father was Marinette’s favorite designer, she might have followed his seasons releases, and might been easy for her to add it to Adrien’s schedule.

I want to clarify that I’m not looking to invalidate people’s feelings about this, or saying that they are wrong. In the end, we all must remember that Marinette is just a fictional adolescent character in a cartoon show, and cartoons will exaggerate actions just for the sake of the plot. We don’t like something about the characters’ actions and/or personalities? We teach and explain to the children why is wrong; and as adults, we tell ourselves to be wary if anything about it is in our daily actions, so we don’t fall into the “hating something that is a reflection of us” projection.

I like to think that I was a good adolescent and young adult that didn’t do anything morally or ethically bad, so it really freaked me out that part of the Marinette salt fandom. So, a thousand thanks! And sorry that your friend, cousin and you had to deal with that stuff.

(Post this ask is in reference to)

Before we get started, I wanted to say that your university having that feature seems incredibly dangerous. Most people are going to use it the harmless way that you did, but boy does that have the potential for misuse. Way better to let students decide if they want to share schedules on their own.

Anyway, while I will absolutely agree that the show occasionally takes Marinette too far, leading me to understand why her behavior bothers people, I think that biggest issue in her writing is actually something you sort of brought up:

I fell in love with this guy, and it seemed that he liked me too.

It sounds like you had some sort of relationship with your crush and that makes a world of difference to how your actions are going to be perceived by others. Checking the schedule of a guy you don't know? Kinda creepy. Checking the schedule of your friends including the friend you have a crush on? Normal.

Let's look at a personal example to show you what I mean. When I was in high school, I learned parts of my crush's schedule. On my way to lunch, I would purposely walk by the area where he hung out so that I could say "hi" to him as I walked past.

This statement probably raises some questions in your mind like how did I learn that he'd be there? The answer is incredibly innocent. I learned that part of his schedule by accident because his hangout spot because was also my hangout spot during my free periods. I just happened to go by one day to see a different friend and ran into him, thereby learning a bit of his schedule. After that, I took path A to lunch instead of path B because they took the same amount of time and I liked seeing him for two seconds every day.

It's also worth noting that we had the same hangout spot because we had a mutual friend group! We were in the same small club and spent a lot of time together. We even hung out together outside of school and club activities. We eventually dates for several years because he asked me out! So when I said, "hi" to him every day, it didn't shock anyone or creep him out because I wasn't some random girl. I was a friend taking a moment to acknowledge his existence before going about the rest of my day.

An additional mitigating detail is the fact that I could have told you details about several platonic friends' schedules because that's just what happens when you know people and pay attention to their lives. We all know random crap about the people we care about. Crushes simply enhance your attention, making you way more aware of everything you do, say, or think about this person. That heightened attention might make you feel creepy at times, but that feeling doesn't automatically make you creepy. It's more complicated than that. The details of the situation matter because there's a ton of nuance around this topic. Nuance that actually makes it hard to give examples because this stuff can be incredibly personal. What person A find cute and charming is a hard no for person B.

That nuances goes beyond crushes on people you're close with. For example, you don't need to stop going to your favorite coffee shop because the new barista is cute! You are not stalking them by maintaining your usual habits! You're not a bad person for experiencing attraction toward a person who is working! It only gets weird if you start crossing social boundaries like if you start asking them on a date every time you see them even though they are very clearly uninterested and you've never actually talked to them beyond simple pleasantries.

This is where we circle back to Miraculous.

While the early seasons of Miraculous gave Adrien and Marinette a few moments of friendship like playing games together in Gamer, those moments quickly stopped. By season three, they barely interacted. This happened for an obvious reasons. Miraculous is an episodic formula show in almost the purest sense of those terms. The writers have made it clear that the episodes are designed so that they can be watched in any order leading to all sorts of weird moments like Felix telling Marinette that Gabriel is Monarch only for her to act like this is new information in the next episode. This was explicitly done so that people who missed the first reveal didn't feel left out:

Talking about previous episodes, [the writers] then say that... the 5 last episodes of season 5 (Collusion - Revolution - Representation - Conformation - Recreation) go together and there is a direct continuation between them. (However, one of their rules as Miraculous writers is that these episodes can also be watched and understood independently.)

This ridiculous rule* means that the on-screen relationships can't develop and grow as that makes the show feel too serialized. This limitation meant that Adrien and Marinette could NOT become functional friends with a developing relationship as that would require a certain viewing order. The same was true for Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship. They could not become stronger over time. They had to stay stagnant.

Without those friendships, Adrienette was reduced to being all about Marinette being unable to function around Adrien and Ladynoir was reduced to being all about Chat Noir flirting relentlessly while Ladybug constantly shot him down. The only side of the square that was allowed to be a true friendship was Marichat because they could interact without it leading to a romance since they weren't in love, which is a major problem since Adrienette is what became canon in spite of it having the substance of unset jello. How are we supposed to ship a couple that never knowingly interacted???

This inability to have developing relationships is why the writers wrote Marinette more like a fangirl than a friend with a crush. But fangirl behavior only plays well when there's a level of separation between the fan and the object of their affections. The fan can't actually know their crush because that makes the fan feel creepy and weird. This is Marinette's main problem. The thing that understandably turns a lot of viewers off. The way her crush is written simply doesn't fit the story canon is going with.

If Marinette and Adrien had been written as true friends and were allowed to have more of those early show moments where they did non-romantic things together, then Marinette would come across light-years more relatable than she does in canon even if her actions didn't change.

It's not that Marinette never has questionable moments, she absolutely does! It's just that a lot of those moments are only questionable because of the nature of her relationship with Adrien. They would all feel wildly different if Adrien was her close friend or boyfriend.

To see what I mean, think about how much less creepy it would have been if Marinette claimed to have Adrien's schedule after she and Adrien started dating. Your instant assumption becomes that he gave it to her! You also have the addition of Gabriel's controlling nature to mitigate the way Marinette's rickshaw date plan comes across. It goes from awkwardly over-the-top to sweet because she's just trying to find a way to spend a few minutes with her boyfriend whose life is too controlled to allow for proper dates. Same exact episode setup, wildly different read because context matters.

It really is sad how much the writing failed Marinette because it's normal to be a little weird around your crush. Wanting to get to know them better and spend time with them is completely understandable and common behavior! But the writers didn't just decide to keep Marinette and Adrien from being good friends. They also decided to give Marinette an active running gag of trying and failing to confess. This gag requires her crush to be extremely active while the show's formulaic nature meant that the crush could never have true progress. This lead to the show constantly putting Marinette in awkward positions and questionable situations. It's a terrible call if your goal is to actually tell a romance. They would have been way better off to make Marinette shy and afraid to confess as a contrast to Chat Noir's bold flirting. The most I'd do in that setup is to let her have the occasional secrete admirer thing where she leaves Adrien a gift or sends him a note like we saw in The Bubbler. That way a much stronger way to play Marinette's crush.

*Quick note: status quo rules are fine in shows that don't have overarching plots, but Miraculous is a romance with an overarching plot. Both of those elements require you to have some level of serialization to your story. I recently used ABC's Castle as an example of this. Almost every episode it a unique murder mystery, but the characters' relationships progress over time. There are also several plot lines that run through the show, leading to a handful of episodes that do need to be watched in order. Notably, all of the major status quo changes happen in that handful of serialized episodes. This is the type of show that Miraculous needed to be for its main story lines to work.

#anon ask #marinette deserves better #marinette defense squad #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #formula show problems #this doesn't just effect Marinette by the way #It's also why Chat Noir comes across terribly from time to time #The writing issues are rarely unique to any one character even if they may look slightly different from character to character #Felix Kagami Adrien Luka and Marinette all have very similar issues when you look at the problems with their romantic writing

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