#any other way my coffee is unacceptable

[permettez-moi]

Okay so, remember how I went to buy gemstones the other day? We also visited an antiquarian with my class, who was an absolute darling and the perfect image of an antiquarian (elderly, wearing braces (the ones for trousers), a small wired pair of round glasses sitting on his nose, and, ofcourse, a grand father clock in his office, and keyboards that looked, and sounded, like the keys of a typewriter)

Now, this man, after talking to us about jewels and gold and antiquarian stuff, gave all of us a pack of photographs of his pieces, and, a little jar of honey

'Liquid gold'

I am, obsessed, with the little jar, and I finally know what to do with it! At school I have a cup and coffee, to make, yk, coffee, and this tiny jar is perfect for standing with those, so I can finally ad honey to my coffee at school!

Anyways, I got really excited for no reason about this hahahah

IT IS SO WONDERFUL

[IMAGE ID: 3 photos of a little jar of honey againsta white background, the first one showing how a clear label, with black print has the words 'liquid gold' written on it, in a big, fancy and swirly font, with in smaller, 'regular' letters 'from the garden of Adin' written on it. The next picture shows how a bee is printed on the label, still in all black on a clear label. The last image shows some plants and the words 'by monica and e' the rest of the sentence is unreadable because of the curve of the jar. END ID]

[tardis--dreams]

Some of those doctors make hating oat milk their entire personality. I hate them. Cannot pretend to find them funny or like i give a shit. Fucking pretentious assholes

[chiasfeu]

as a retired ff writer ive come out of hibernation bc the lack of smallville clark kent ffs is unacceptable tom welling is toooooo fine

sorry for all the grammatical errors i wrote this all at once and didn’t reread

part two

SECRET ADMIRER - clark kent x reader

Fumbling the lock of your locker, you sigh; you were on your fifth day at smallville high school and you weren’t ecstatic to say the least. After your dad had gotten into some legal trouble with LutherCorp your family had to move out of Metropolis to somewhere more safe.. more remote. Adjusting to the rural life of smallville had proven to be difficult and the people seemed strange. Slamming a fist against your locker you try again, meticulously turning the lock of the locker. Click. As you open the doors of the locker, a piece of paper slowly falls out.

Picking it up you read your name in bright red across the folded up piece of paper, you smile to yourself thinking, my very own secret admirer..

Maybe smallville won’t be so boring.

—————

Sipping on your coffee, you annotate your copy of the scarlet letter for English class. “Hey! y/n right?” A friendly voice calls out. You look up from your book, smiling. “Yeah! you must be Lana?” She nods, “I see your getting ready for the English exam, you need any help?” You glance at your book before starting, “I’m good for now.. I’ll let you know if I have any questions!” She smiles again before turning away to walk back behind the counter. Your eyes follow her as she talks to the costumers by the counter, they look familiar— a blonde girl with short wispy hair, and two other guys beside her.

You almost jump out of your own seat when you lock eyes with one of the boys, has he been looking at me this whole time? You think, embarrassed, quickly focusing on your book again. Although you’ve looked away you can still feel his gaze lingering on you.

“Hi.” You’re startled as you hear the voice, looking up at the boy that was staring at you from across the room. Before you can reply he starts, “You’re in my first period Bio class.. you know.. with Jenkins..” You blink, waiting for him to continue. He gulps, “uh well Jenkins is really tough.. and we have our first quiz next class so I was wondering if you would want any help….?” You smile sweetly, what is it with small town folks being so eager to help out? “Yeah I would really like that actually,” He smiles, almost in a relived way. “Great. You’re actually my new neighbor so I’ll just come over to help out,” He says before turning away. You cock your head to the side before saying, “Wait.” He turns around, facing towards you, “I never got your name,” you say.

“Clark Kent.”

—————

You’re sitting on your bed as you peer up at Clark while he explains how to convert moles into grams, “So you’re going to divide the number of particles by Avogrados number..” You yawn tuning him out, your eyes fall the paper that slipped out of your locker earlier today. I still haven’t read that note. You grab the note, opening it up, “y/n are you listening to me.” He says clearly frustrated. “Sorry Clark..” you say apologetically smiling, he notices the paper in your hands and nervously looks back up at you. “What is that?” He says, shifting around in his seat, looking intently at your face. You smile lightly, giggling, “It’s a letter from my secret admirer.” He visibly relaxes, “Oh.. I take it you like having one?” You nod shrugging, “makes smallville a lot more interesting than it could be.” He fake winces, “Smallville is a lot more interesting than you think.” You raise your eyebrows unconvinced, “Really? You’ll have to show me what’s so ‘interesting’ one day.” He smiles glancing down, “Maybe I will.”

You look at Clark’s notebook and your eyebrows furrow, the handwriting looking strikingly similar to the one in the note you found this morning. “Clark..” “Hm?” He looks up at you, “Do you possibly happen to know whoever wrote me that note?” He scratches his head, “No? Why would I?…” You shrug, “Just curious..” He awkwardly smiles before writing in his notebook again. You shift your position on your bed, scooting closer to him, “Clark, it’s ok you can tell me if you do know…” you bring your hand to his exposed forearm caressing it. He coughs before breathlessly stating, “I really don’t know who wrote it, y/n.” You push up against him, drawing circles up his arms, “Hm.. that really is too bad..” He swallows dryly, “yeah?” You nod slowly, “yeahhh.. I would’ve gone along with everything they wrote in that letter..” There’s a moment of silence as he looks at you. He shuts his eyes, sighing hard before confessing, “I wrote it.”

You grin mischeviously, running a hand through his hair, “You really didn’t have to lie, Clark..” He opens his eyes to look at you, his cheeks red from embarrassment, “y/n” “hmm?” You hum, tilting your head bringing your lips closer to his. He glances at them, sighing heavily before parting his lips to say something. He’s cut off by you pressing your lips against his, you feel his body relax into yours, his hands sliding up your back and his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You pull away from the kiss, your hands holding Clark’s head; using your thumb you wipe lipstick off of Clark’s swollen lips as he looks at you longingly.

Yoau press your lips together, suppressing a giggle, “Hmm it’s getting late.. how about we pick back up tomorrow?”

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Slap a Bow on It

 "Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid. He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street."

@deadonmayn Day 1: Courting Rituals | Flickering | Dinner is interrupted by a rogue/gang fight | "Are they gone yet?"

TW: Danny is thirsty as hell, mentions/allusions to nsfw but nothing explicit

AO3 Link

   Danny blinked.

   He could only assume that the crime lord, illuminated purely by the light of the fridge in the otherwise dark apartment, blinked back. The helmet didn't give anything away, red plating and slanted eye whites impassive. Good for being sexy menacing. Not so good for reading emotions.

   Danny blinked again, wiping the rheum from his eyes with pinched fingers. He squinted once more at Red Hood, who for some reason was in his apartment at - Danny glanced at the clock - three in the morning. He seemed perfectly content to be digging through Danny’s fridge, if a little sheepish at being caught.

    He should probably be more angry that his apartment was broken into. He absolutely was when he first woke to the uncomfortable feeling of an uninvited guest in his lair, but after seeing the vigilante’s arms laden with food his metaphorical hackles relaxed. The apartment was shitty anyway. 

   If anything, Danny was confused as to why he was here judging his fridge’s contents and playing Tetris with tupperware. It wasn’t like they knew each other. 

   Danny blinked a third time just to really make sure he was seeing what he was seeing, "...Hi?" 

   "Hey,"  Red Hood unfroze, seemingly recovered from being caught, and resumed stuffing what looked like a container of tamales into his fridge. 

   Danny couldn’t help but feel sullen at the dismissal. He'd woken up only for the admittedly hot trespasser with thick thighs to barely glance at him. Unacceptable. 

   "Do you want anything to drink?"  Danny must have been momentarily possessed by the ghost of Midwestern manners with how urgent the offer seemed. 

   "Nah," Red Hood stuffed another container into the fridge, turning to look back at Danny, "You don't have any allergies, do you?"

   "Nah."

   Red Hood nodded, pulling out a bag of rotten lettuce. He held it away from himself like it might try to bite him. In Danny’s experience, it very well could. 

   “Do you ever clean out your fridge?”

   Danny shrugged, “It’s finals week. I’ve got to keep my GPA above 3.5 if I want to keep my scholarship. No chores. Only study.”

   Red Hood nodded solemnly as he threw the lettuce into the trash, “No chores. Only study.”

   They fell into silence. Danny watched as the crime lord sifted through his fridge, pulling out rotten food as he went. “Is this because I decked that mugger? Cause’ he deserved it.”

   Red Hood very pointedly threw the expired milk carton into the trash can.

   “Okay then…” Danny yawned, “Well if that's all I’m going back to bed.”

   “Kay.”

   Danny shrugged, turned on his heel, and left the crime lord to rifle through his kitchen.

___👻___

   When Danny awoke the next day, he was greeted by a clean apartment. The absence of crumbs on the freshly swept floor felt odd on his feet, although it was certainly much more pleasant. The trash had been taken out and a new bag had already been installed. He passed by the sink on the way to make coffee, the dishes that had been filling it suspiciously absent. 

   Danny would deny to the ancients and back that his knees went weak when he found the coffee maker already set and filled with grounds... his sister must never know. 

   As he waited for the cup to brew, he opened his fridge for creamer only to come face to face with more home cooked food than he’d ever seen in his life. Danny pulled the food out plastic container by plastic container to stare at in disbelief. Tamales, chicken mole, Mexican rice, enchiladas, and carne asada… It was only a handful of containers, but still. It wasn’t as if his parents had done much in the way of cooking with all their time spent in the lab. Jazz could throw together something basic but nothing like this.

   The local hot crime lord slash vigilante had broken in at three in the morning to feed him and clean his apartment. Huh.

  No time to think about that. He has a final on differential equations in five hours and minimal time to cram. Danny stirs the creamer into his coffee, heats up some Mexican rice, and sits down at the untouched mess of notebooks, paper, and textbooks on his kitchen table. 

   He studies until he has to leave for the exam, only getting up to refill his coffee and get more food. The tamales are pretty fricken good, but they make it hard to focus on the numbers scribbled across his notebook. It’s like each bite is urging him to go back into the kitchen and cook, which is odd considering that Danny can’t cook and he already has enough food to last him through the next day or two (courtesy of the sexy crime lord). 

   He leaves the exam room feeling good only for his mood to immediately crumble when he remembers that he has an aerodynamics final at eight the next morning followed by gasdynamics at one. He takes a brief break to faceplant on the table, scream, refill his coffee for the umpteenth time, and eat some more food but inevitably resigns himself to pulling an all-nighter. Time becomes liquid after that. It’s all just a blur of numbers and properties and instructional videos. 

   At some point, he registers another presence in the apartment. Danny recognizes the ecto signature from the night before so he pays it no mind. Let Hood poke around, Danny has to read more about Newton’s Third Law. What was he going to do? Feed him again?

   The answer was apparently yes. 

   The background noise of shuffling in the fridge and washing empty containers stops and is replaced by soft, mechanical-sounding breaths. Hood is standing next to him, plastic container in hand as he watches Danny run through the Quizlet on his laptop. 

   Danny’s got around eighty percent of the terms memorized. Just another twenty percent to go. He types in the answer for a new blank. 

   Red Hood pokes his shoulder.

   Danny grumbles. His response came back wrong.

   His shoulder is poked again.

   Danny ignores it and moves on to the next blank.

   He continues unbothered for an uncertain amount of time. The words on the screen are blurry like he is trying to read underwater. His mouth splits into an entirely too wide, jaw-cracking yawn. His uninvited guest coos at him as Danny rubs at his eyes. The next thing he knows, his laptop is shut closed and moved away. It feels like any and all visual processing is delayed. Danny stares blankly at the spot the computer used to sit.

   Something slides in front of him to replace the laptop. His core chirps when he realizes it's food. Hood’s answering chirp as he guides a fork into his hand is deep and rumbly with the faint stutterings of a purr. Danny starts to purr in return as he sleepily munches on the casserole.

    Before long the empty plate is taken away. Danny slumps down on the newfound table space and tries to fight off sleep. 

   “I think it's time for you to go to bed.”

   “Noooooo! I’v gotta study fr' aero’namics.”

   “You’re slurring your words there, handsome.”

   Danny’s sleep-deprived brain screeched to a halt. His core chirped to attention, “Flat’ry ain’t gettin’ you nowhere.”

   “It was worth a shot.”

    Danny smushed his face further into the wood to hide his blush and distracted himself by blindly reaching for his coffee mug. Upon noticing, the vigilante moved it out of reach. Danny whined into the table.

   “You can’t overwork yourself like this, Danny,” Red Hood carried the mug to the sink and poured it down the drain. Cruel, cruel man. “I know you’ve got exams but your scores won’t be any good if you go into them like this. You've got to take care of yourself,”  He lightly squeezed Danny’s shoulder. Danny hadn’t even heard him move across the kitchen. “Can you do that, darlin’? For me?”

    Danny groaned, “F’ne. But only cause’ ur hot.”

   The vigilante snorted. It sounded odd through the helmet but not bad. “I’m happy to hear it! Now let's get you to bed.”

___👻___

   Contrary to popular belief, Danny wasn’t stupid.

   He had been helping his parents in the lab since he was four, and he was nearly a straight-A student before the accident. He was an aerospace engineering major with a hefty GPA of 3.8, and most importantly, he’s had extensive lessons on ghosts, the Infinite Realms, and their culture. 

   He could be a bit oblivious, but he always got there in the end. 

   So when Danny woke up the next morning and realized that last night wasn’t a dream, he had an epiphany. The thought kept running through his head as he stared at the food in the fridge, the clean apartment, and the prepped coffee maker. 

   He was being courted. 

   He was being courted by the super hot and apparently undead crime lord who ran the haunt on the other side of the street. 

   Danny had never been courted before! 

   Sure, occasionally there was someone who tried to shoot their shot, but it always fell flat in the end. It was an unfortunate side effect of being undead. Every human relationship he had felt… lacking. Like it was missing something. 

   Val had come pretty close. All the fighting and shooting felt like a mimicry of ghostly courtship behavior. It's what had drawn Danny to her in the first place, but Val wasn’t fighting him in a display of power and capability. She had genuinely wanted to end him. 

   There was also the incident with Kitty, but she was overshadowing Paulina and mimicking human behaviors. There was never any ghostly courtship involved, and besides, she was only dating him to make Johnny jealous. 

   This is Danny’s first time being properly courted!

   What is he going to do about it?

   He decided that the question could wait until after finals.

   The next few days pass by much the same as before: a tortuous cycle of studying, caffeine, minimal sleep, screaming, and exams. Red Hood continues to stop by and deliver food. Danny has got to figure out the dude’s actual name or a nickname or something. He refuses to keep calling his potential partner Red Hood. When you take away the scary crime lord persona it just sounds like a condom brand. He could always use a pet name, but it feels wrong given that Danny hasn’t shown much reciprocation outside of allowing Hood into his lair. Instead, Danny settles on greeting him with a trill and a series of chirps. 

   As soon as he finishes his last final he flops face down into bed. Tomorrow he’ll get to work on reciprocating Red Hood’s efforts. His kitchen is blessedly clean of any ecto contamination. Without the food fighting back, he should be able to whip up something presentable. How hard could following a recipe be?

___👻___

   Danny was wrong.  

   Staring at the stove which was somehow on fire, Danny couldn’t help but finally understand why Jazz had never allowed him in the kitchen. He quickly rushes to turn off the heat. Danny doesn’t have a fire extinguisher. He’s a broke college student with just enough money to live on the outskirts of Crime Alley. Why would he ever be able to afford a fire extinguisher? 

   Danny slams a lid over the pot to smother the flames erupting from it and wacks the stovetop with a damp towel. As the fire dies down he glares at the somehow burnt gnocchi sitting ever so innocently in boiling water. He probably could have just iced it. The ice would melt into water and put out the fire, right? 

   He takes another look at the ruined food as the bubbles die down and decides he’s probably just cursed. Not all hope is lost though, Danny reasons as he dumps the ruined gnocchi down the garbage disposal. So Italian cuisine was not his forte. That’s okay! He’ll just try a different recipe!

___👻___

   The recipe said quick and easy. 

   This was neither quick nor easy.

   He dumped the carbonized remains of food into the trash with a sigh. It was French toast! How could someone go so wrong with French toast? The kitchen looked like something had exploded in it for ancients’ sake! 

   Danny thunked his head onto the counter, uncaring of the milk and eggs coating it. An entire loaf of bread gone and not a single edible piece of toast to show for it! He groaned. Maybe he just… wasn’t cut out for this whole courting thing. 

   Dejectedly, he lifted his head and began to wipe down the counter with paper towels. He really liked Hood.

   He was funny! While he mostly left Danny alone during his study sessions, Danny had seen the viral videos. Hood knew how to crack a good death joke, and the compilations of him ragging on Batman were something to aspire to. 

   He cared for people! The sponsored soup kitchens and homeless programs were an open secret in Crime Alley, and the working girls were paid well. The street kids knew they were safe in the Alley because anyone who tried to touch them would end up with their head in a duffle bag. Red Hood protected them.

   And ancients was he hot! Thick thighs for days and strong arms that could probably lift Danny like a couple of grapes. Danny wouldn’t mind being thrown around by a guy like that. He would happily let him pin him to a wall and box him in and then Danny could sink his fangs into his shoulder and then- 

   Okay! Stop! Too far! That’s awfully ambitious for someone who can’t even cook a proper courting gift. Think, Danny, Think! 

  Okay… okay. So he can’t cook. That’s fine because Danny can build. He’s been building things since he was practically a toddler. He can make something easy peasy!

   What about a gun? Red Hood seemed to like guns. Danny’s core purred at the idea. If he had to guess, the vigilante had a protection obsession of some sort. A gun was something that could protect Red Hood but also be used to protect others in his haunt and directly feed into his obsession. Yes! The gun idea was good.

   But then again, Hood had been working with Batman more and more frequently, and with that had been using guns less and less. How often could the gun be used? No, no. This courting gift should be usable in all scenarios. 

   What about a knife? Yes! A knife could work! As far as Danny knew, Batman didn't have anything against knives. Surely a knife paled in comparison to Robin's katana. A knife was sneaky and quiet, good for stealth missions unlike a gun, and easier to carry for everyday use. 

   Danny hummed, nodding to himself. He’d do the knife first and save the gun for later. He was going to need supplies. 

   Danny wiped the dripping egg away from his forehead before it could get into his eyes. But first, he was going to need a shower.

___👻___

   So…

   It could’ve gone worse.

   Despite basically being raised reverse-engineering his parents’ inventions, Danny had never tried to make a knife. He could gut a microwave from the local back alley dumpster and Macgyver it into a functioning weapon, but building a makeshift forge on short notice and hammering steel down into a smooth curve was a whole different ballpark. Luckily the local trade school had a forge, and after some good old-fashioned bribery, they allowed Danny access. That was the first problem out of the way. Unfortunately, the second problem remained. It was fine. Danny was used to thinking on his feet. 

  After many YouTube videos and failed attempts Danny had a somewhat presentable blade. With a saw edge on the top and a sharp curve similar to a khukuri on the bottom, it certainly didn’t look like a beginner's design.

   He probably shouldn’t have skipped straight to a more advanced shape. Danny hadn’t managed to fix the slight warp of the blade, and maybe the practice beforehand would have done him some good. Regardless, it was too late to fix it after the ecto wash, and he didn’t think the warp would affect the performance too negatively. Besides, with the ectoplasm infused into it the knife should cut through ghosts with no problem. 

  Danny had spent entirely too long trying to find the perfect shade of red leather for the handle, but in the end, he accurately matched it to Red Hood’s helmet. He had wanted to incorporate some protective runes into the leather, but he had no idea how to make a lasting pattern that wouldn’t affect the user’s comfort. Eventually, he decided it was an idea to be saved for another project. 

   With his courting gift complete, all that was left to do was break into Red Hood’s lair and give it to him…

   That sounded wrong. Give the knife to him. It’s not an innuendo! Great. Now he’s thinking about those thick thighs again. Stop! Bad Danny!

   He shook himself to dispel the train of thought. Danny had a different, more pressing problem to deal with: How could he present a knife to a vigilante without it coming across as a threat? He didn’t have a box for it, and the knife didn’t have a sheath yet. He could always make himself the box and store it in his chest, but watching someone pull random items out of their body was apparently gross and disturbing, or so he’d been told. What if he just-

   Danny yanked open the kitchen junk drawer and began to root around. After a few seconds of sifting, he pulled out his prize and ever so gently stuck it to the knife. The green gift bow was squished on one end but remained comically large on the blade. He bounced up and down on his toes. It was so stupid that it just might work. 

   Feeling the cool rush of invisibility, Danny phased through the wall of his apartment to greet the early morning light beginning to peak over the buildings. Floating in the air for a minute, he absently fiddled with the bow on his courting gift. With the city starting to wake, Hood should be returning to his lair. 

   It didn’t take long for him to fly past the unseen territory lines and into Crime Alley. Danny had crossed through Hood’s haunt before. It had never felt aggressive like some in the Ghost Zone. Red Hood's haunt was more curious, probing with a warning to behave himself. The haunt felt different this time around. Now it felt welcoming rather than wary, warm. If Danny closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being held in a protective embrace. His core hummed in response, seeking out the other’s resonance. 

   Danny had never been to Hood’s lair. He hadn’t even been given directions, but he didn’t need them. He'd simply follow Hood’s ecto signature to where the haunt’s energy was most concentrated. Like the dead equivalent of a bloodhound. 

   Danny took his time meandering toward the heart of the haunt. He’d never been this far into Crime Alley before, and he didn’t want to get turned around. That was a lie. Danny was nervous and stalling. Doubts flew unbridled through his head.

   What if the knife wasn’t good enough? What if the bow didn’t work? What if Red Hood thought he was threatening him? What if Danny blew his shot? Danny had already screwed up so many other things in his life, he didn’t want to screw this up too!

   There was only so long he could stall. Jittery with nerves, Danny floated outside a decrepit apartment building. The entire structure was practically drenched in Red Hood’s ecto signature, but it radiated in waves from a unit on the top floor. Danny took a breath to steady his racing heart and struggled to quiet his core. It was now or never. 

   He cautiously phased halfway through the wall, chirping in greeting. The apartment was clean and orderly. The fireplace and full bookshelves gave it a homey feel that sharply contrasted with the worn and weathered bricks on the outer wall. The lack of weapons was a surprise. Even if he couldn't see them Danny figured they were still there, well hidden in the otherwise normal apartment. 

   A surprised sound draws his attention to the man on the couch. He’s built like a quarterback, lounging on one side as he struggles to stitch a laceration across his ribcage with a needle in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. It's hard not to get distracted by the autopsy scar running cleanly across his collarbone and down to his pelvis. Danny wants to lick it.

   Piercing blue eyes search the apartment, arm lowering the mirror. Danny is thankful that he's still invisible. With the heat flooding to his ears, he’s sure he’s as red as a tomato. Danny’s practically drooling at tousled black and white hair and the long scar reaching up from under his jaw to his hairline like a flower stretching for the sun. His crooked nose, clearly broken and healed many times over, only adds to his beauty. Red Hood is truly a modern-day Adonis.

    Hood’s wounded side finally registers in Danny’s brain, rearranging his priorities and catapulting his obsession to the front. Immediately he lets his invisibility drop, absently shoving the knife into his chest for safekeeping. Hood makes a distressed sound as he does so which urges Danny forward. His hands hover worriedly over the man as he pushes as much help/comfort/safety/concern into his aura as possible. 

   He reaches to take the threaded needle from Red Hood’s hand only to be nudged away.

   “It’s fine. I can do it myself.”

   "Hood, let me help."

   "Jason,” he licks his lips, “My name is Jason."

   "Jason," Danny gently cups Jason’s face in his hands, "Please let me help, Jason."

   Blue eyes gaze into his own. The ever-so-faint hints of green within them are captivating, swirling in a hypnotic dance that leaves Danny in a daze. Finally, Jason looks away and nods, breaking the trance between them and passing the needle over.

   Danny allows himself to revert to the mindset of his vigilante days. He stitches the wound with a single-minded focus, practiced hands falling back into a familiar rhythm. Jason watches the entire time, staring intently at his face as he works. Danny struggles to keep his core quiet and pretends not to notice, taping a bandage over the cut. His fingers graze over Jason's body, checking it over for any other injuries. Jason allows it to happen with a distinct feeling of affection/amusement. 

   “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

   “Nah. The kevlar usually prevents stuff like this. I was just unlucky.”

   “Good.” 

   Danny runs his fingers through the white tuft in Jason’s hair, pushing the strands out of his face. His core kickstarts like an engine with a vengeance, humming and searching for Jason’s core song in anticipation. Danny squeaks, stumbling backward. He smothers the sound and quiets his core, but with the look on Jason’s face, he hadn’t been quick enough.

   “Sorry!” Danny stutters out, flushing. 

    Jason’s expression shifts to confusion, “Why are you apologizing?”

   “I’m being way too forward,” Danny drags his hands down his face in embarrassment, “We haven’t had a spar yet and fuck! I haven’t even given you your courting gift yet, but here I am! Invading your space and trying to harmonize! I’m so sorry.”

    “Lucky for you I like forward,” Jason gently grasped his hands, lowering them away from his face. His palms felt warm against Danny’s skin, “Is that what you shoved into your chest earlier? A courting gift?” Jason punctuated the sentence with a gentle kiss to Danny's slow pulse.

   Danny nodded, stunned. Tearing his gaze away from Jason’s lips, he reached into his chest and pulled out the knife. Jason chuckles, his eyes crinkling in mirth, “You put a bow on it?”

   Danny grinned, his fangs on full display, “Well I had to make it presentable, didn’t I?” 

   He gets down on one knee, head bowed and knife held upwards in offering as if he were a knight presenting a sword to a king. Jason gingerly lifts it out of his hands, cradling it like a precious gem. Danny watches as his fingers trace the edge. 

   “It feels like you,” Jason looks to Danny for answers, eyes wide with wonder and a beautiful flush on his face.

   “I wanted to make sure it was effective against ghosts, but it's hard to find enough clean ectoplasm around here. I sorta just… used my own?” Danny rubs the back of his neck with a wince, “Do you like it?”

   He waits in anxious anticipation as Jason stands from the couch. Jason sets the blade gently down on the coffee table behind Danny before tugging him into his arms, “I love it, baby,” his words vibrate over a purr that Danny can feel in his bones, “Just don’t go hurting yourself for courting gifts anymore.”

   Danny groaned, tucking his face under Jason’s chin. “You have no idea how much that narrows my options down.” 

   Jason laughs. 

   Danny pulls away to look up at him, lightly batting at Jason’s peck “I’m serious, Jason! I can’t cook for shit! You’re gonna need to wait a long ass time until I can get my hands on more ecto. I hope you’re ready to wait because it’s going to take me months to build that gun now!”

   “You wanted to make me a gun?” 

   “Yeah? I was going to have one ready in the next few weeks but-”

   Jason’s smile is dazzling as he leans down to press his lips to Danny’s. Danny forgets to breathe as he melts into the kiss. He’s tugged forward until they are chest-to-chest on the couch, cores close together. Danny’s not sure whose core starts to hum first, but the sound is unmistakable as they waver between pitches. Danny bites at Jason’s lips, making a pleased sound when they part for him.

   It’s weird to be doing this before a spar. It’s backward, unconventional. Danny can’t find it in himself to care.

   It’s a wondrous thing when their cores synchronize. Something finally clicks, like a lock snapping into place, and suddenly Danny can feel so much. The humming harmony of their cores permeates every single one of Danny’s nerves. The rush of giddy happiness is unlike anything he’s felt before. He can feel Jason, too. The rampant emotions fling between them until it's hard to tell whose is whose. In Jason’s arms with a core bond in place, Danny has never felt so secure in his life. 

   This. This is what he's been missing. 

   Danny breaks away from their kiss to nip at Jason’s jawline, paying special attention to the scar. Jason makes a pleased sound, tugging lightly at his hair.

   “Your teeth are sharp as fuck.”

   “Aren’t yours?”

   Jason nuzzles under Danny’s shirt collar and into his shoulder. Danny shudders as he feels canines dig into his skin. They’re sharp, but not as sharp as his. 

   Danny giggles, pressing a kiss to Jason’s hair. “I want to see how skilled you actually are with those teeth. Once you’ve healed we can have a proper spar.”

   “I’ll show you a proper spar,” Jason grumbles. 

  Suddenly Danny is pinned, lying on the couch with Jason’s weight on top of him. Jason kisses his cheek, tucking his head back into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. It's like the world's best weighted blanket, Danny thinks as his eyes droop shut in relaxation.

   They remain like that in silence, basking in the positive emotions and comfort of their new bond. It’s about ten minutes later that Danny finally breaks it.

   “Why me?”

   “Hmm?”

   “Just… why court me? I know I pass through your haunt now and then but we’ve only actually seen each other like… once. What could I have possibly done to catch your attention?”

   “You punched a mugger.”

   “Yeah… so?”

   “You knocked the fucker out in one blow before I could even lift a finger.”

   “And?”

   Jason lifted his head to give him a pointed look.

   Danny stared back.

   Oh…

   Oh!

   “Do you have a competency kink!?”

   Jason flushed, ducking his head back down with a groan. 

[enzstr]

What it's like dating Katsuki Bakugo

note: this wasn't proofread and I just wrote whatever I want to write.

p.s.: i remembered some of these headcannons from tiktok though I forgot who are the users but credits to them!!

It’s not a surprise that dating Bakugo would start with a very slow relationship, he wasn’t used to the feeling of being in one and you never really minded. 

Because of this being his first relationship, he had to worry about certain things like label change, physical touch in public and more. Whenever you kiss him, or hold his arm, his whole body jolts at the sudden affection. I mean you’ve never blamed him. Of all the times you asked if he’s okay with it, he never declines. That’s the thing about him, it takes him a while to even get slightly comfortable to do the same in return, not because he doesn’t value you but he gets confused at times.

Slowly into the relationship, he’ll start to take notes of the little things that you like. You wanted a certain item a month ago? He’ll get it for you during a special occasion. Your coffee every morning with those long orders? He gets it every morning just the way you like it. Sometimes it even shocks you at how great his memory really is but he doesn’t even try to make it a big deal because it’s how he shows his love for you. 

At times (most of the time) he’d be very protective of you but in a non physical aspect. If he ever starts dating you, it means he noticed and acquired your strength. However if anyone had ever treated you in a way he considers as unacceptable, he’d quickly defend you and fix it fast.

From time to time Bakugo would begin to admire your face and features with an infatuated look in his eyes. Even if you had just woken up with dark eyebags and messy hair, he’d just take in the dishevelled appearance of you. If he feels sick of looking at your oily face, the next thing you’d see is his toilet sink full of his skincare products. Hell, all of his classmates definitely know that he owns a lot of expensive skincare products based on his skincare routine. Despite the fact that you’re the woman in the relationship, it’s more like the roles are reversed. He would occasionally drag you to wear weekly facemasks with him because he doesn’t want your hormones to break out and give you hormonal acne. 

Most importantly, he seldom shows affection, yet you know deep down that he does and nothing will ever change the way your relationship goes.

enzstr © 2024. please don't steal, modify or copy my writing on any other platforms!

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: university AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[save-the-villainous-cat]

So what about a genius hero x street smart villain, maybe hero is a little awkward from being in the lab all the time but villain makes up for it by being able to pick up on hero’s body language? Kinda alone the lines of “they didn’t correct you to insult you, they were trying to be helpful”?

"Can you walk?"

"Y-yes, of course," the hero answered. But the villain wasn't fooled that easily. Obviously, they noticed the white-knuckled grip and the pale face. They noticed the unsteady gaze and the shaking hand. The five coffee mugs.

"I didn't bring you here to work yourself to death," the villain said. they crossed their arms in front of their chest, attempting to sound soothing.

It could be quite challenging to guess the hero's feelings. Kidnapping someone to work for them wasn't exactly...a promise for good cooperation. It wasn't ideal either but the villain barely knew what an Erlenmeyer flask was and they really needed the hero to research the disease.

"Being careless could cost you your life. This is pretty dangerous. If this virus can kill people with superpowers, I don't want to know what it can do to us."

"The average human immune system can destroy the virus, don't worry," the hero said. They closed their eyes and took in a deep breath. "People with superpowers are flawed, though. Their bodies need to come up with a lot of energy to conjure superpowers. Specialized cells create a nearly independent system on their own. But, you know, some parts of the body - of the vessel - don't get as much energy as they need. Organs are important, so...immune system it is. That's why a bunch of kids with superpowers die. There is barely any information on it yet, though."

"Do you need more...specimen?"

"No. No, I..." The hero pressed a palm against their temple. They looked angry, they looked frustrated. The villain supposed not getting proper sleep for days was an explanation for that.

"Okay, that's enough, I think."

"I am fine," the hero insisted.

"You are not fine." The villain took a step towards them. "I know you are working on this so you can find a way to kill supervillains, not superheroes. But right now the only person you are close to killing is yourself."

"What would you know about my work? I am fine, I am doing amazing."

The villain reached out to touch the hero's shoulder but the hero slapped their hand away weakly.

They knew the hero wasn't...particularly good with other people. Especially, when it came to work. For the most part, the villain understood why but they could barely understand why they insisted on working hard enough to forget basic self-care. It seemed like brilliance demanded stubborness.

"You're right. I don't know much about your work, but I do know a lot about behaviour. And your behaviour is unacceptable."

"Unacceptable? How dare-"

The villain grabbed their chin, shutting up the hero. They took a step forward, forcing the hero to press their lower back into the table.

The proximity surprised even the villain - they hadn't realised the hero was this close to the table.

And this close to the villain.

"Alright, listen," the villain said. Their voice was dangerously low. "Right now, I am your boss and you will do as I say. If I tell you to rest, you will rest. If I tell you to eat, you will eat. I don't care if you want to work 20 hours a day or if you want to finish one more test. I decide how much you work, got it?"

The villain's fingers dug into the hero's cheeks softly and they smiled when the hero frowned at that.

"You don't want me to start threatening you, do you?"

The hero rolled their eyes and then they just stared at the villain. Stared with those curious and tired eyes, as if the villain was another experiment they were interested in.

"You're actually quite adorable," the villain said. They squeezed the hero's cheeks again for good measure. "You can have my bed."

The villain let go of them and the hero blinked a few times. A soft blush decorated their face. And for some strange reason, the villain felt really warm and...satisfied inside.

"What about you?" the hero asked.

"I will take the couch."

"Absolutely not. Do you know how many bacteria colonies are on a couch?" They turned away from the villain and slowly started cleaning their workplace with shaky hands.

"Believe me, I will survive."

"Fine." The hero shrugged. "Your funeral."

"You're making this up, aren't ya?" The hero turned towards the villain again and even their ears had turned red.

"Do I look like I would lie about that sort of stuff?" they asked but they didn't meet the villain's eyes. It was quite funny but the villain didn't know if it was supposed to be a joke.

Usually, the hero only acted sassy when someone criticised their work, when they got annoyed or when they got embarrassed.

The villain guessed the latter was happening.

But whatever was the catalyst, it seemed like the hero was willing to rest and that was all the villain truly wanted.

"Ah, screw it." The villain waved with their hand, still smiling. "My bed is big enough for two, anyway."

"It, uh, better be."

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Here we go <3

Masterlist, Part I of __

"Oh my God," someone from his right gasped loudly. "God really has favorites!"

Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as he patiently waited for the elevator door to open. It was too early in the morning for someone to be this loud, or for someone to have this amount of energy. In fact, he thought it was peculiar. Despite him being the most handsome and perfect man on this whole planet with a godlike body proportion, clear skin, the most expressive eyes, and despite him being the genius that he was, and well, despite him being flawless in everything that he did, he could not for the life of him be that energetic when it was six in the morning. For heaven's sake, he still hadn't gotten his coffee.

Jin simply did not have the energy to deal with this person.

"Good thing you're a doctor!"

Jin took the deepest breath known to man, before breaking his intense and angry eye contact with the elevator. He noted that he would have the whole system replaced by Jungkook's company. The time was just unacceptable, he thought. Besides, he hadn't gotten enough beauty sleep last night because he stayed up late patching up the man Taehyung was torturing and the asshole called him at a godforsaken hour just because he didn't want the fun (also known as Tae’s torture) to end just yet.

What a psycho, he thought.

Well, they all were, he surmised. They just hid the madness in order to blend well with the society. He meant, who would even think that the beloved and heavily awarded actor was a high-functioning psychotic shit? Kim Taehyung was just that- a master manipulator when it came to emotions. They all had their own talents, though.

"I'm sorry?" he asked in the voice he used to communicate with his difficult patients. When he turned, he could have sworn you were really a patient if not for the white robe and identification card that you were wearing. He thought you looked like someone who escaped from the ward with the way your hair was haphazardly and carelessly tied in a bun, the bags under your eyes looked heavy that he almost recoiled. It was as though you and a peaceful night of sleep were strangers

He read your name and the department that you were working in.

Department of Psychiatry.

"How can I help, Doctor Y/N? Do you need medical assistance of any sorts?"

Your smile got even wider, and he was almost certain you were losing it. However, to you, you were just elated to hear your name passed his plump lips. Ah, you thought, you really loved working here. You were on the verge of transferring to the hospital your professor owned in the province. He had been attempting to pry you from this hospital, and you were ready to say yes. In fact, you already filed your resignation.

How could you say no to a seventy-percent increase? To a greener grass? To being able to afford to pay loans your family unfortunately passed onto you and buy your basic necessities?

Well, this face would do it.

"Yes. I feel a shortness of breath and you're to blame. You just took my breath away..." you explained, the smile still present on your face. The elevator dinged open, and you waved at the frozen medical director, the highest position in this hospital, with a glee. You entered the glass box, waiting for him to get in. "The medical director will hear about this!" you playfully scolded him

Alas, it looked like you broke him today.

He was still looking at the spot you had just vacated as though his mind circuited. On the other hand, you were on your way to take back your resignation. You just found your reason to stay. You were waving at the man blushing profusely enthusiastically as the door was closing, and yet he remained there.

Ah, what a good morning indeed, you thought.

Kim Seokjin, on the other hand and for the first time in his whole life, was taken aback by the reckoning force that you were.

That day marked your entrance into his life, whether he wanted you to be in it or not. And well, that day unknowingly sealed your fate. You couldn’t leave his life, whether you wanted to or not.

You became a somehow...permanent fixture in his life.

“Tadaa!”

Kim Seokjin jumped when he heard your voice for the first time today. He didn’t even have to turn to know it was you- you made sure that your voice alone was etched in his genius brain. He was always on guard when you were near, and fuck, even if you weren’t. It was like he had an internal alarm when you were near that kept screaming that there was a foreign substance near him, rendering him a different man. One that was not confident, one that always seemed to blush when you were near and he loathed it!

He was perfect and he was used to being in control with his emotions! What was this atrocity! How was a person such as you managed to disable his flight-or-fight instinct?

Jin blinked owlishly at the steaming cup of coffee you were eagerly presenting to him. It was his from his most favored coffee shop, he noted. It was off the way to the hospital.

And it was still hot.

It was six in the morning.

What time did you wake up for this?

“I know you must be tired from that six-hour surgery,” you noted lightly, smiling up at him. He looked good in scrubs and you couldn’t help the heat rushing through your cheeks when he met your eyes. “I thought you needed coffee. I asked your staff and they said this is your favorite.”

See, every time you talked, his brain just circuited and he didn’t know why. Although he possessed extraordinary genius, he still couldn’t find the reason why. He was not a bubbling mess. No! He was the image of perfection!

“I don’t…drink coffee.”

Idiot, he thought. Why did he say that?! You saw him several times with a coffee in his hand. Your elated expression fell immediately, the glint in your eyes fading. He was beating himself inside when the door opened behind him, his colleague, Doctor Seong-Min walking out and he immediately saw you.

“Oh! My favorite doctor!” he greeted you as almost everyone in the hospital knew of you because of your extrovert personality and high energy.

“Good morning, Doctor Seong-Min,” you greeted politely, though the tone of your voice was definitely knocked down. “You were in the surgery with Doctor Jin, right?”

He nodded before slapping Jin’s back once, “This man right here saved the patient twice. He definitely didn’t give up on-“

“Do you like coffee?” you cut him off, your exhaustion from your shift plus the trip you took to buy him coffee was now taking a toll on you and you wanted nothing but to sleep on your own bed.

“Yes?”

“For you! Have a good day, doctors!” you waved at them before walking away. Ahh, your mind was filled with thoughts of food and sleep. Finally, your day off!

Kim Seokjin’s mind, on the other hand, was filled with panic that he hurt your feelings and also anger to the doctor that was now about to sip the coffee.

“Give me that!” he hissed, pulling the coffee away from the equally exhausted colleague of his.

“What?! No! I need coffee!”

“This is mine!”

“She gave this to me-“

“No. Mine,” he announced as he successfully wrestled the coffee away from the confused doctor. “Okay, goodbye.”

[arn359]

Wine is waaaay to worse than i imagined😭😭😭. I will blame all the fic that i read about him and make like he was a nice guy. The fact that i will immediatly shoot the other au without question if he meet them is insane. And the way he always want more power and he will always try to manipulate the king . Also poor coffee😓.

Anon, I’m using your ask to ramble about Wine. And it’s too long…. So i think i will put the rest under the cut. After the pic.

I haven’t read much of fics that have Wine in it. But with so little information about him, the way it scattered around and languages barrier. I understand that ppl may have different view of him, also is the setting of the fic. If it’s on the surface, i guess he could be better???

But there’s a thing about FSG(Fellswap-Gold) being set in communist theme , Wine being the head of the royal guard, AKA he the head government. Idk about you guys, but for me. Any head government of a dictatorship system could never be a nice guy. NEVER. IT’S UNACCEPTABLE.

Though, you guys can have fun, just don’t forget it exists in real world. And even thought it’s not real. Propaganda exists, so is the media effects.

I summarized some of the timeline in the second pic (The art is based from the creator)

I hate Wine so much, but here i am defending him(?) nope just explaining my insight. (i still haven’t read the setting with proper translation , so this is my headcanon from what i understand)

Wine will immediately shoot other AU.

It’s both Gaster and the system that made him that way. He’s born to be the best solider. He trained hard, deem to be love by Gaster but Gaster only see him and Coffee as tools. After Wine feelings toward Coffee became ‘his only family’ Wine wants to protect Coffee. Wine changed to rely on Coffee being relied to him. Wine betrayed Gaster cuz Gaster want to get rid of Coffee.

Wine is a conservative, because that what the system always is.

So Wine will shoot other AU immediately because for the system. AU is see as threat. The AU would bring new possibilities and that’s against the conservative view that is to continue the old/current system.

(The dictatorship and conservative control the knowledge of their citizens. Keep their knowledge low so it makes them easier to control. Risks of having the AU be seen by citizens is not good. Citizens can’t see new things, can’t have more knowledge of other AU, can’t know that world with freedom exist. So the AU is see as threat)

But of course, Wine is not really a full conservative as we seen in some settings about him, like Wine doesn’t discriminate toward Undyne&Alphys, Wine support Grillby and Muffet interracial wedding. But the system, the time(their au set in old period), and social. Also is the way he grow up, the way he need to be ‘the best’. It rooted too deep into his mind. And it show with what he said toward Coffee.

Yes Wine always seek power.

Because he’s a coward. Wine felt loved when Coffee relied on him as a child. But when they grow up, Wine still think that way to the point of unhealthy. Because he feared of being alone and lost his only family. And because of the system in underground is like that, he needs power to stay safe. To stay alive and hope that the thing he fears the most never come true. So it lead to seeking powers.

Wine for me, he’s a coward, he fears and the only way he knows how to ease those fears is to have more power.

Kinda words these badly, cycling nonstop. But it’s really just the way it is. Cycle. The system can't be changed. It needs to be perished.

Yes…. Poor Coffee…he also has a problem… but that’s for another time. Another post… the bairnrot hitting me bad…

These information are from @/fsg-settings go check it or you can see my post and a link to my doc i collected all the information in one doc and used google translated on them. So you can just read there. Or maybe opening the web would be easier?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being a bitch to my boyfriend’s manager?

I(24F) get regular cancer treatment four times a week, and while it’s not as bad as it could be it still takes a toll. My lungs are trash and I get frequent seizures, and my job is moderately active, so sometimes I have a tough time. Other than that I’m really lucky to be as ok as I am.

Two days ago I had a bad seizure at work. My coworkers called my boyfriend Peter(25M) to come and get me—I’ve made it clear not to call an ambulance unless the seizure lasts longer than 5 minutes—and he came. This was the only time I’ve ever called him out of work. He works a few different jobs and my coworkers called him out of the coffee shop he works at part time. When he came to get me he was incredibly anxious and stressed, so much so we had to pull over because I thought he was going to black out, and he was shaking too hard to drive.

It turns out that when my coworkers called the coffee shop, Peter’s manager Fiona (30F) got extremely upset that he had to leave his shift to come get me. She said he wasn’t doing his job, that this was unacceptable and he shouldn’t be leaving during work hours, even though it was because of a medical emergency. Fiona texted and called asking when Peter was coming back to work a few times while we were on our way back—he had been gone for about half an hour at this point—and stressed that he needed to come back as soon as possible because the coffee shop was busy. This had stressed him to the point of being unable to drive.

I was really angry at this point. I was exhausted and everything hurt from the seizure, and I felt awful about taking Peter away from work and how much stress this was causing him. He didn’t blame me, but all the same he went back to work still shaky and anxious, and stayed an hour late to make up the time he dropped coming to get me.

The next time I came into the coffee shop, Fiona asked how I was, and I definitely played up the cancer card out of sheer spite. She was sympathetic, and—also out of spite—I thanked her profusely for allowing Peter to come and get me. Fiona got a little flustered, and I said it was fantastic that he had such an amazing manager, that she was really understanding, basically I laid it on thick, and then told her how much Peter loves his job at the coffee shop and how kind it was of her to let him leave for medical emergencies. I was about as sincere as I could make it without being sarcastic. She nodded along. Then I lost my temper and said it was lucky my diagnosis was terminal, because maybe soon Peter wouldn’t have to miss shifts.

Peter didn’t like how i handled that. Truthfully, his work isn’t my business. He loves when I come in and I love seeing him there, and to be honest it wasn’t my intention to guilt his manager, but it still wasn’t my business. Seeing her just ticked me off. He said it was handled and wouldn’t happen again, and it hasn’t. I shouldn’t have gotten involved because it’s his work and his manager, but I was the one who had to calm him down for an hour because Fiona had stressed him out to breaking point.

AITA for being so pointed with her when it wasn’t any of my business?

What are these acronyms?

[drdemonprince]

I read your newsletter about "transmisandry" today. I'm a trans man and I generally agree with what you said. However, I was wondering how you would classify a particular experience of mine and other trans men I know irl or have seen online.

In short, I find that in some queer spaces, masculine and/or "binary" (meaning, not non-binary) trans men are treated as outsiders and enemies. I imagine some straight-passing queer cis men experience similar.

This prejudice against masculinity has nothing to do with us being trans, and is in no way oppressive, but it seems to me that some people have a hatred/disgust/discomfort/etc. with masculine men, especially if we are proud of our manhood. I sometimes feel excluded in queer or progressive spaces, and like I have to change myself to fit into others' idea of "acceptable" manhood.

I think this tends to emotionally affect trans men in particular because being a man is generally hard-won and joyful for us. Have you experienced prejudice in queer spaces, especially trans spaces, for being transmasculine? And while I don't believe there exists systemic misandry, is this not a form of misandry, just interpersonal?

Thanks, I really appreciate your work.

Hi there, thank you for great question. What you are describing is certainly a very real and troubling dynamic within both queer and feminist spaces, and it's put me off for a very long time. I have sometimes referred to this as "playful 'misandry' feminism", always with "misandry" in quotes because, as we've already established, it's not a real locus of systemic oppression. I have also sometimes in the past likened it to "Men's Tears Coffee Mug" feminism in its performative, self-congratulatory, typically white feminist stance.*

*in the Koa Beck sense of the term. Someone who is not white can be a white feminist.

I was always put off by performative man-hating jokes and the exclusion of men within feminist spaces because, well, I was one, and because it nearly always played out in transmisogynistic ways that were transparent to me, and because I was a major ride-or-die for men who were victims of sexual violence yet were frequently excluded from survivors' spaces (again, because I was one, even before I realized that I was).

There are a lot of troubling effects that happen when feminist women make a big performance out of finding all men to be disgusting and evil and frequently express disinterest in men's feelings or suffering (which used to be way more common in my estimation, around the early 2010's or so it seemed to peak). I was driven away from feminist spaces as a young closeted trans man because I could see such spaces were not for me or for any of the other men that I cared about and needed support. On the inverse side of things, I have spoken to many trans men who said that "playful "misandry"" feminism actively made it harder for them to realize that they were guys. Men were seen as the enemy and inherently evil and destructive and so they felt absolutely disgusting about the possibility of being a man, or feared transitioning would get them seen as a betrayer of the feminist movement.

As you rightly note, it is not just trans guys who get excluded by such dynamics. Cis men who are genuinely avowed feminists can be driven away by such forces, which is especially upsetting in the case of sexual assault survivors and queer men. Trans women and TMA enbies are excluded from feminist and women's spaces because they supposedly "look like" men to these types, and their own feelings of superficial safety rank above the actual data on who is the most at risk structurally (which is trans women). Butches are regarded in some spaces as too aggressive or unacceptably masculine because of it. And people's analysis of gender oppression just overall sucks when they buy into "playful misandry" style feminism because they go around saying shit like "femme people are oppressed by masc folks." what the hell does that mean. Does a cis, gender conforming feminine woman have less structural power than a butch lesbian? I don't think so.

It seems to me that the big problem here is that "playful misandry" feminism is rooted in a deep deep misunderstanding of the structural nature of oppression. Sexism isn't caused by patriarchy and capitalism, it's caused by "men" and so hating men and excluding them is what will fix things. Men as individuals are responsible for sexism and so women should be as detached from them and unsupportive of them as possible. This logic leads to a TERFy place really quickly, and yes, it also really really damages trans men.

My opinion is that it's best to critique this problem as the political failure that it is: a misunderstanding of sexism as individualistic rather than systemic. That's the core issue from which all the problems flow -- from rampant transmisogyny to the exclusion of cis male sexual assault survivors to the feelings of alienation of trans men. Yes sometimes naming the performative nature of "man hating" jokes and the like is helpful because people recognize instantly what that dynamic is when they hear it. But the "misandry" itself is not the core problem -- it's the shitty gender politics and white feminism.

Does that make sense? To be clear, I think it's something trans men get to talk about. I talk about it from my positionality quite a lot really. I don't think "misandry" is ultimately the helpful or clarifying way to name it, but I will sometimes throw around that term with a TON of qualifiers if I'm discussing the specific interpersonal dynamic of women saying that men are evil rapists innately or whatever. But really discussing the broader gender politics failure that leads to those little shitty comments and looks is almost always more helpful. If trans guys and cis guys are feeling excluded from a space due to these dynamics it's almost always the case that trans women, TMA enbies, butch women, and lots of women of color are too.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

love me tender...or maybe not - lust fall

pairing: cupid bf!Wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. BooSeok)

genre: fluff, humor, smut. minors dni.

warnings: making out, fingering, soft dom!reader (also kind of a service top but has some mean moments), sub!wonwoo, reader is experienced and wonu loses his virginity, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill but still wrap it yk), hair pulling, marking, slight breeding kink, cumplay, mentions of dacryphilia, wonu slips into sub space, very mild degradation, use of pet names (angel, baby, pretty boy), 

word count: 3.1k (this got a tad bit outta hand folks)

Author’s note: wheeeee it’s here! one more chapter left to wrap up these mini-series ;-; A big thank you to @duhnova​, @junkissed​ and @flowerwonu​ for helping me out with this fic!

 series taglist: @enhacolor @misssugarlips @flowerwonu @duhnova @heartkyeom @junkissed @himbocoups @wonwussy @idyllic-ghost​ 

nsfw taglist: @rosecult @bibinnieposts @ovai @littlemisssarcastic21 @tinkerbell460 @jonghyuns-husband @romromthedeer @y00nzin0 @llsiriusminorisll @booyouwhore17​ 

© multi-kpop-fanfics, 2023. ​No reposting allowed. No translating allowed without permission.

“A hair color change? Seriously?”

“Yeah, why does it sound so weird to you?” 

“It’s not weird, it’s weird coming from you” Seungkwan opens the glass lid, carefully placing the cupcakes inside.

“What’s wrong with me wanting to change my hair color? I could use a change, after all” Wonwoo runs a hand through his black hair.

“I mean, sure, but….Have you given it any thought or are you just going with the flow?”

“I was thinking of asking for recommendations first-”

“I think purple would look nice on you, hyung!” Seokmin joins the conversation.

“Utter bullshit” Seungkwan scoffs, “Don’t listen to him, hyung - You should definitely go for silver.”

“Purple is way more fun and playful!” Seokmin bites back.

“Silver is more mature and sexy!” Seungkwan argues.

“Purple!”

“Silver!”

“If you keep this up, I will shave my head” Wonwoo deadpans, visibly annoyed by his two annoyed friends.

“NO!” they both yell at him and he’s taken aback by their reaction.

“Okay no need to make the cafeteria a warzone!” he throws his hands in the air to his defense and he manages to calm the spirits down, “I will take your recommendations into account though, so thanks for these.”

“When are you going to book an appointment?” Seokmin asks out of curiosity, the washcloth in his hand, cleaning the counter.

“What appointment?”

“An appointment to a hair salon, idiot” Seungkwan comments, “You’re not seriously thinking of dyeing your hair by yourself, are you?”

“Uhhh”

“That is simply unacceptable! You cannot possibly risk to destroy your own hair without the help of a professional-”

“Thanks but no thanks!” Wonwoo cuts Seungkwan off, softly holding his forearms, “I really appreciate the fact that you care about my scalp, but I know what I am doing - you can trust me on that.”

“Okay, if you say so…. But don’t come back bald and cry to me!” the younger man warns him, pointing his finger at him.

The day at the cafeteria passes in a blur - customers come and go, coffee cups and other delicacies flying around, passing from hand to hand. A rather hectic blur, one would say - but a satisfying one, for both customers and workers in that shop.

It’s Wonwoo’s lucky day -  he was only on morning shift today so he left the shop around three o’clock (he could have left earlier, but he’s a clean freak and washed the entire counter).

But he’s not feeling particularly lucky right now - because he has spent at least half an hour looking at hair dyes and trying to distinguish the different shades.

“This is so not going well” he mutters to himself while looking at three different shades, which seem absolutely the same to him.

“Hello sir! Do you need help?” 

Wonwoo almost yells from the jumpscare, looking at the saleswoman who’s currently looking at him with a beaming smile.

“H-Hello, yeah I could use some help here….”

“Are you looking for a specific shade?” 

“Uh, I just want a silver and a purple, that’s all….” he mutters awkwardly.

“Interesting combo - Have you tried it bef-”

“It’s for my girlfriend!” he immediately adds, not wanting to embarrass himself even longer.

“Okay then, I see!” she exclaims and takes one last look at Wonwoo’s hair, rummaging through the hair dye boxes and she’s handing over three boxes, with the exact shades he was looking for.

“These two are the colors and this is bleach - using the bleach first is recommended because it will help changing into lighter colors easier than going straight with the dye” she points at the unfamiliar box.

“Oh, that’s….pretty useful. Thanks.” he nods with a tight lipped smile.

“Hope you’ll end up with a nice result!” the saleswoman waves at him and Wonwoo’s face flushes from embarrassment as he heads over to the cashier.

“Am I even doing this right?“ Wonwoo, mutters to himself, mixing the two color tubes in the plastic cup, looking at himself while he's waiting for the bleach to take effect.

He grabs the paper with the instructions again, reading them sentence by sentence to make sure he's following them step by step.

"Section your hair and apply the color evenly….Okay, that's not too hard" he tilts his head, starting to do as the instructions say. 

"Wait, how long was I supposed to-"

"Wonwoo? What are you doing here?"

This time, Wonwoo actually yells and almost knocks everything off the bathroom counter, visibly startled by your sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here?!" he asks in a panicked state.

"What do you mean?" you laugh, "I live here with you!"

"Well yeah, obviously - I mean why are you here? Weren't you supposed to come later?"

"Last class ended earlier so here I am" you simply comment, your eyes fixated on the opened hair dye, "But you didn't answer my original question, Won" you get the plastic bowl in your hands, mixing the color with the brush.

"What are you doing in the bathroom, Wonwoo?"

Busted, he thinks, head hanging low in embarrassment.

"I saw you looking through Pinterest the other day and you were infatuated over  lilac colored hair…..And I wanted to surprise you…"

"With changing your own hair color?" you look at him with wide eyes and he nods shyly, averting his gaze from you.

"You are the cutest angel boyfriend I could ever ask for" you laugh and cup his cheeks, pressing a kiss on his lips.

"Thank you….But the surprise is ruined now" Wonwoo pouts in disappointment, but his eyes shoot up when he feels your hands on his hair, swiftly parting them into sections, starting to apply the mixed color on the now bleached strands.

"Y/N? What are you-"

"Shh, trust me on this one" you reassure him, slowly dragging the plastic brush across his scalp.

"But-"

"I'll just apply the color, after that I'll wait for you to dry it and see the ending result - Don't wanna ruin the surprise, right?"

"Okay then" Wonwoo relaxes his shoulders, the wings on his back still contracted.

About an hour later, you're waiting for your boyfriend, hoping nothing went wrong.

"Hey" you see Wonwoo peeking 

"Took you long enough" you tease him, trying to peek under the towel resting on his head.

"I just needed some time to….accommodate to the change" he rubs his nape and he drags the towel off his head, revealing his new hair.

To say the result was a pleasant surprise would be an understatement.

Wonwoo's previous black hair has been replaced by a striking lavender color, a discreet yet fascinating silver sheen adorning his locks.

If he wasn’t a cupid, you would have sworn he’s a faerie.

“Wonwoo, your hair….It’s….Oh my God” you get up from the bed, and thread your fingers in his still soft hair, enamored with your boyfriend’s new look.

“Y-You like it?” he asks, “I don’t know what to think of it”

“Are you kidding me? Wonwoo, you look utterly stunning” you say breathlessly, the pads of your fingers playing with the roots of his hair, “My pretty, pretty angel.”

Wonwoo lets out a small moan at the pet name, the combination of your voice praising his appearance and your hands playing with his lavender colored locks has him feeling weak in the knees.

“Y/N…..” he looks at you with pleading eyes, his palms wrapped around your wrists, dragging one of your hands down on his chest, breathing getting heavier and more uneven.

“Say what you want, angel. Say it and I will do it for you” you cup his cheeks lovingly, waiting for his answer.

“C-Can you take off my shirt? Please?” 

“God, you beg so prettily” you curse under your breath and take off his shirt, revealing his toned body, running your hands over his spine and pressing your fingers right on the base of his wing junctions, making his magenta wings rustle and reveal, eliciting a whine from the cupid’s mouth.

“That…..That’s cheating” Wonwoo groans, feeling his pants getting tighter and tighter, his self control wearing thin.

“Not my fault you’re an open book to me” you grin and tug him towards the bed, pushing him flat on the mattress with one swift motion, climbing over his lap.

“If I’m going too fast, let me know and I’ll st- mmfh!”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you complete your sentence by smashing his lips on yours, bringing you close to his body and wrapping his arms around your back, eagerly chasing your lips, getting drunk into your scent.

“Please please please touch me, Y/N, I need you so fucking bad-”

“Angel…you shouldn’t use bad words like those” you hold his jaw in place with your hand, peppering butterfly kisses across his jawline.

“I’m sorry…” he mutters with a small pout.

“That’s more like it” you smile, fingers fiddling with your clothes, taking everything off right in front of Wonwoo’s lust-blown eyes.

You’re stark naked on his lap, raking your nails over his nape and playing with the freshly dyed hairs, watching his face scrunch in pleasure, the man struggling to stay still.

“You know you can touch me, right, Wonwoo?” you tug at his hair a bit more forcefully, making him moan from the stinging sensation on his scalp.

“I need to take my pants off first” he laughs breathlessly and you lift yourself off his lap to give him enough space to remove his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes zone in on his already hard cock, your hand practically itching to grab it.

“Already so hard, angel?” you attempt to align your pussy with his length, but Wonwoo stops you by holding your hips still, wings unsettling behind him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, his expression completely unreadable.

“I….Um…”

“You don’t feel ready yet?” you whisper softly, your hands cupping Wonwoo’s burning cheeks, “You can still back down from it if you aren’t sure-”

“No, please, I….I really want this” he tightens the grip on your hips, “I just don’t want to…hurt you in the process….?” 

“About that…” you take his hand and guide it towards your naked pussy, a gasp echoing from your boyfriend’s mouth when his digits come in contact with your soaked slit, biting his bottom lip when he drags his fingers across your slit, making you moan lowly.

“Yeah, that feels so nice, fuck” you rest your hands on his shoulders, “Don’t be s-shy, you can slide t-them in” you rake your nails on his scalp, your hips starting to move with a consciousness of their own.

“L-Like that?” Wonwoo asks timidly as he slowly plunges two of his slender digits in your heat, your head involuntarily falling into the crevice of his neck as your walls greedily clamp down on his fingers. 

“God yes, just like that” you whine in response, “It feels so damn good, Wonu, you’re doing so good.”

The constant praises urge Wonwoo to move his fingers inside you, the need to see your face scrunched in pleasure getting the better of him - thus he slides them in and out of your now dripping core, his bottom lip caught by his teeth as he watches your essence coat his hand in awe.

“This is what you d-do to me, Nonu” you whisper in his ear, “And it’s just your fingers, shit- Imagine how good your cock will feel-”

At this moment, Wonwoo takes away his fingers, leaving your pussy high and empty, sucking his fingers clean with a lewd, satisfied hum.

“You little-”

“I couldn't hold myself any longer, I desperately need to be inside you, please” he begs you, his lips colliding with your neck, sloppily dragging them across your skin.

You give it zero thought and you line your entrance with his cock, carefully sinking down on him, your eyes rolling in the back of your head from the delicious stretch.

“Fuuuuuck….” you let out a loud moan, your hands perched on Wonwoo’s chest as you try to accommodate to his size.

“Oh God, oh my God” he groans, his palms smoothing over your thighs, “You’re so…tight and warm, baby…”

“Just give me a few seconds, Nonu, just a few seconds and I’ll give you the time of your life, angel” you sigh, pressing a kiss on his left collarbone as you try your best to relax around him.

“Wait- w-what about protection?” Wonwoo asks in a haste.

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry your pretty head about it” you swiftly reply, making yourself comfortable in his lap.

“O-Okay then….A-Are you comfortable enough to move?” he asks with pleading eyes, mentally begging you to start moving because he swears he’s about to cum on the spot because of how heavenly you feel around his cock.

“Do you want me to move, Nonu? Want me to drag my pussy on your pretty cock like I did with my mouth last time? You remember that, don’t you, angel?” you clench your walls around him on purpose, a playful grin on your face as you notice his resolve crumbling down like a tower made of paper cards, his hips involuntarily jutting upwards to get more friction.

“Words, Nonu, I need words” you reprimand him and you can see the wheels in his brain speeding up to form a coherent sentence.

“Please, I beg you, please move, Y/N, I can’t take it anymore” Wonwoo whines, tears starting to form on his eyes.

You smile at him and push him flat on the mattress, wings fully laid out, one hand into his lavender hair, the other beside his head on the bed.

“Good boy.”

You raise your hips and slam them down almost instantly, the bulbous tip of his cock stretching your walls, forcing bits of your sanity to start slipping away from you.

“Ah, d-don’t stop, baby, God that feels amazing” Wonwoo grips your waist, wings starting to rustle and drop a few feathers around the bed, turning his head away, eyes shut from the mind-blowing sensation he’s experiencing for the first time in his life.

“Eyes on me, dear cupid” you yank his hair a bit more forcefully, “Open your pretty eyes, Nonu, I want you to look at me when I fuck you stupid.”

He opens his eyes, just like you ordered him to do and he’s met with your lustful gaze, unfaltering despite the effort you make to fuck yourself on his cock, soaking it till the base with your juices.

“That’s it, pretty boy - Watch me make you feel good.”

“P-Please, I’m-nngh” he arches his back off the mattress, his nails slowly digging into your skin from the arousal.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum that soon?” 

“Yes, pleasepleaseplease let me cum, it’s too much!” Wonwoo lets out a drawn, whiny moan, letting the welled up tears run down his cheeks, standing on the edge of his orgasm.

“Let go for me, Nonu, f-fill me up until I’m soaked with your cum, baby” you moan, your hips slamming faster on his lap, urging him to tip off the edge.

The moment he cums inside you, the wings turn crimson red - a color he wished he could avoid. 

But he doesn't feel like he has done something wrong and he definitely doesn’t feel like stopping pleasuring you - because what is the point of eros if not loving your partner, physically and mentally?

Wonwoo wraps his arms around your back and pulls your chest flush to his, wings spasming frantically, a telltale sign of his still ongoing high.

“Y-Y/N-”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here, everything is okay, angel” you coo at him, petting his hair and hugging him close to your body, his cock still spurting cum in you, your pussy milking him dry for all he’s worth - while you’re actively trying your best to help your boyfriend calm down from his very much intense high.

It takes him a few minutes to fully calm down, his breathing back to normal and his wings finally settling down, only his soft sighs echoing in his room.

“Wonwoo? Are you with me?”

“Yeah, I’m….good. Never been better, actually” he laughs breathlessly, “Are you okay though?”

“I’ve never been better as well” you giggle, “But I also really need to clean us up because we’re sticky as fuck”

You try your best to get up on your feet, his cock slipping out of your pussy, but you immediately lose your balance and almost end up on the floor - almost, because Wonwoo is fast enough to catch you before you fall, setting both of you on your feet with just a few flaps of his wings, causing a small ruckus in the room.

“Wonwoo! I told you to be careful with them!” you scold him, thankful that everything in the room somehow managed to stay in their place.

“I know, but you’re more precious than all of the things combined in this apartment and the thought of you getting hurt could drive me insane - in a very upsetting way” he defends himself and your cheeks heat up at his honest yet sweet confession, rendering you speechless.

Got you this time, love, Wonwoo grins to himself as he carries you to the bathroom.

“Really? They almost fought because you asked for their opinions?”

“Yep” Wonwoo confirms, “If I hadn’t intervened, they would have started throwing cake icing on each other or something.”

“Still, they were more than willing to help you and that shows a lot” you comment, “I think I would like them a lot”

“Well, they definitely like you a lot” Wonwoo grins and you’re taken aback.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” you straighten your posture and accidentally splash some water on the walls of the bathtub.

“Easy there, love” Wonwoo chuckles, “I’ve talked about you to the guys before and they seem to like you, despite having not met you yet” he explains, “That’s all.”

“Oh…Well, when you put it that way, it makes more sense…” you trail off and try to sink your body under the water out of embarrassment, but his arms around your midriff stop you and drag you back into his arms, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

“I would never do something to expose you, my love” he murmurs on your skin and you relax into his embrace with a happy sigh, letting yourselves soak into the warm, scented water.

“I think Seungkwan and Seokmin will love your new hair.” 

“I think so too, to be honest - it’s literally a perfect mix of what they proposed, after all.”

Wonwoo takes a quick whiff of the air, racking his brain to understand the identity of the pleasant aroma.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“What is the scent of the bath bomb you put in here?”

You turn your head around, looking at your boyfriend with a grin.

“Lavender, of course.”

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

word count: 4.8k

ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 19: Intrusion

Gwen

If staring worked like water, eroding ceilings over time until they discolor and eventually collapse, I’d be covered in drywall and looking into the eleventh floor by now.

For three nights, all I do is stare. I fall in and out of sleep when even the brightest burn of anger dies down to an amber, but worry is quick to bring me back, stoking the flames. I usually wake with a soft gasp, or a twitch of my arm, as if I’m subconsciously shocked to feel as afflicted as I do.

I had said too much. I could have just told Joel that this was unacceptable, and he needed to inform me of every new development. That was true. But I didn’t expect to take it as…a betrayal. The thought makes me pinch my eyes closed. It means I trust Joel enough to have expectations for him, and that means I let my own feelings take hold for far too long. He was here on a job. I was teetering on the edge of admitting things about him, and about the corporation, that I had never dared utter out loud. I let my anger guide my words, and it’s a small blessing that’s all that came out.

The annoying thing is, after three nights of ruminating, I now found what Joel did endearing. Overstepping? Absolutely. But endearing nonetheless. And what’s more is, he admitted it. He apologized, even. It hadn’t been even a week since the package arrived before he told me, and knowing how stressed he’s seemed at every event with my friends, the fact that he wanted me to go…and the fact that he noticed it was something I needed... It felt like he cared about me beyond just blocking someone from my path.

Now, while I pretend to sleep, I try not to think about how much he could care, and if it was the same way I did. Joel probably had that level of compassion towards every client. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was somehow different or special. And even though it was my decision, I’m starting to regret not speaking to him these past few days. Maybe I should apologize in the morning. I could get him a coffee or something as a peace offering—

CRASH!

Glass shatters in the living room.

I’m not sure what it sounds like, to hear glass shattering in the living room from where I’m laying, until this very moment. I can’t think of what else that noise could be. I rack my brain of possible alternatives, coming up short in less than a few seconds. Rolling over, I yank my phone free from the charger, texting Joel immediately.

Me: Brandy

Not even a second later, he’s typing back.

Joel: Lock your door. Don’t come out until I say.

My heart pounds in my ears, and I move as quickly and quietly as I can to the doorway. I try to turn the lock slowly, so the clicking doesn’t ring out. Regardless, I still cringe as the lock slips into place.

A second crash sounds from the living room, and I cover my mouth to hide a small cry.

I hear Joel’s door open, though it’s quiet in comparison. I wish I could postpone the ringing in my ears so I could hear what’s happening in the living room, but I know there’s no more glass breaking right now. I don’t hear any voices either, just the soft padding of Joel’s stride down the hall. I find myself holding my breath, knowing that by now he must be able to see whoever is inside.

What if it’s a whole team of people against him?

I text Amari.

Me: 911 send help

Still, I hear nothing. What if they bound his mouth? Or they knocked him unconscious and didn’t let him hit the floor?

I’m startled when I hear erratic, quickened breathing, but I quickly realize it’s me. I cover my mouth, hoping it will stifle the hyperventilation.

Amari: on our way

My hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I might drop my phone. Should I stay here by the doorway? Do I hide in the closet? I feel like any movement I make will be heard, and could encourage them to come seeking.

The silence is too loud, too noxious. Tears prick in my eyes. An image of Joel being beaten and bloody clouds my mind. I grab for the doorknob, hesitating.

Trust your instincts.

He had said it during our training session. I know he told me not to leave, but I couldn’t let him get hurt. And my instincts were screaming at me to move. With my still-shaking hands, I grab a marble bookend off of my dresser, gripping it until my knuckles turn white. I place my phone on the ground near the doorway, turning it on to record. If anything happens…at least there will be that evidence. Two more sharp inhales, and I unlock the door, hurling myself into the hallway, sprinting down to the living room.

The bookend is held high, ready to bring it down upon someone’s head, and I frantically search left and right for Joel. I notice two small lumps on the ground, but no people. No Joel.

Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.

All I hear is my heartbeat roaring as I continue to scan the living room. But there’s nothing. I take a step forward, noticing how one of the curtains flutters—

“Don’t move!” Someone bellows, making me scream. I turn, hosting the bookend higher, preparing to give them hell.

But it’s Joel. Just Joel. Standing by the kitchen island, a broom in his hand.

“There’s glass. Don’t take another step.” He commands, rushing to the nearby hall closet to pull out my gym shoes. He makes quick work of bringing them over to me, offering his shoulder for me to lean against as he bends down to help me slip them on.

“Where are they?” I whisper.

Joel gingerly tries to take the bookend away from me, but I resist. “No one broke in,” he says.

“Then why didn’t you call me? Why are the lights off?”

“Because I think whoever did this is still outside. You need to back up, for your own safety.”

In that deep, commanding voice, I listen to him. I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the hallway. Through the dark, I try to assess what he’s talking about. Joel follows my gaze, pointing to the two separate lumps on the ground.

“They’re bricks. Someone threw them through the window.”

That explains why the curtain is moving on its own. And with my senses beginning to regulate, it also explains the cold breeze I start to register on my skin.

“Can we turn on the light?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but not enough to keep me from asking.

“No,” Joel moves in front of the window, peering at the roof of the building next door. “If they’re trying to target you, turning on the lights just puts this game on easy mode. Another reason you should’ve listened to me when I told you to stay put!”

“Oh,” I breathe, shifting in my sneakers. He sounds angry.

No, not angry—livid.

Joel doesn’t say another word as he sweeps the glass closest to me, shifting it back to the window.

I wipe my sweaty hands on my pajama shorts. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, putting the broom down.

“I–I texted Amari.”

For some reason, this makes him shift his attention to me. “That’s good.”

“They should—should be here, soon.” I put the bookend down on the floor next to me.

He stares at me for another moment, before he speaks in a slightly softer tone, despite his rage-filled eyes. “You should go pack a bag. We’ll leave as soon as they get here.”

I turn back to my room without so much as a nod.

I start in the bathroom, gathering my makeup and toiletries, before grabbing a weekender out of my closet. I’m not sure if this is just for the night, so I pack two extra dresses for work just in case. After everything is zipped up, it occurs to me that I should change into something other than a silky sleep set. My hands haven’t stopped shaking as I slip into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.

I overhear Joel approving Amari and the team to come up in the elevator. I don’t want to go out and face them. I don’t want to hear the possible explanations, or the chatter of security measures I don’t quite understand.

Bricks? On the tenth floor? That feels impossible. This whole night feels impossible. I shove my hands in my pockets as I leave my room, not wanting anyone else to know the effect of this chaos.

Thankfully, with the entire crew here, Joel feels it’s safe enough to turn the lights back on. That alone provides a bit of comfort to my tightening chest. Amari stalks over to me as soon as he sees me.

“Miss Russell. You’re unharmed?”

“Yes. I’m…fine.”

“Good,” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, glancing around at the seven men inspecting my apartment.

They’re inspecting everything. Every crevasse, even those that have nothing to do with the windows. One of the men is leaning towards the bricks, and I follow his gaze. Looking down, I notice long pieces of rope tied around both bricks, with a white paper wrapped around the one closest to me.

“You’re shitting me.” I hiss, creeping toward the brick. This captures nearly all of their attention, as many pairs of surprised eyes turn my way. Three of them try to stop me, but Joel is the one who gets to me first, wrapping a gentle hand around the crook of my elbow.

“There are shards everywhere. What do you need?”

“There’s a fucking note. There’s a damn note attached to the fucking brick!” I point at the ground, my voice wobbling. Joel’s eyes widen slightly.

“Okay,” he says in a voice that may be reserved for negotiation tactics. “Let me get it.”

My eyes drop down to the floor and I nod.

Amari steps forward, his hand outstretched. “There could be fingerprints. We shouldn’t touch it yet.”

Joel looks from my face to Amari’s. “Someone get me a glove.”

“Joel, just in case—”

“Amari,” that same commanding tone is back. “She deserves to know.” Joel gives me the smallest of nods, and I hope my expression conveys my gratitude. After last week, I know he’s trying to make amends. But honestly, that hiccup is the last thing on my mind right now. Jace, one of the security members, hands Joel a glove and he immediately grabs the note.

Joel glances at me, a silent permission to read the note out loud. Whatever he sees on my face, it allows him to continue.

“My warnings are as earnest as my gifts. You should be in charge of the company. Go after what you really want. Like me.” Joel reads it as monotone as possible, and still, a shiver runs down my back. He’s watching me carefully, and I just want out. I need to get out of here.

“What’s the point?” I say softly. “Why would anyone care about that? They want me to, what, force my father to retire? Just so they know specifically what floor I’m on? They already know where I live.” My voice cracks again on the last word, and I just clear my throat, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. No one in the room responds to my questions. Not that they would have any of the answers.

“We should go. You need to sleep, and there’s no reason the security system should have been silent with two broken windows.” Joel moves to my side, taking the bag off of my shoulder. I don’t protest. My eyelids are heavy despite my quickened heart and sweaty palms. What time is it?

I glance into my kitchen, and the oven reads exactly twelve o'clock. I would have thought it was later, after laying awake for so long. But I suppose time passes differently when those types of thoughts are keeping you up. As much as I didn’t want to think about what my feelings for Joel are, I would give anything to go back to an hour ago when that was my biggest concern. Trying to figure out what he means to me is far less frightening than worrying about his safety.

I look at the solemn faces scattered around my living room. Some pretending to work, some obviously waiting for me to leave so they can start. I nod at Joel before turning to Amari.

“No one should hear of this. No one on the board, no one outside this room.” Not only would attention from the press exacerbate the issue, I also didn’t need anyone on the board looking at me like I was weak.

Amari looks apologetic. “I sent word to your father. No one beyond him will hear of it. You have my word.”

I don’t have the energy to feel disappointment. “Okay.”

Joel guides me toward the elevator, and Jace and Carlos follow us inside.

“It would be wise to tighten security measures, just for tonight.” Joel says low enough that they don’t hear it. “They’re going to help me escort you.”

“Okay,” I repeat, my tone drained for any emotion.

I’m not surprised that we pull up to my father’s house. Even if we doubled our security, it wouldn’t make sense to go somewhere unfamiliar tonight. The small blessing is that my father is in China for the next week. I thought I was lucky just getting out of the weekly dinner, but this is an additional bonus in the middle of an awful night.

Carlos asks if I want him to wake Melissa to make me something. I shake my head, ensuring Joel was in tow before making my way up the stairs. Jace and Carlos stay in the foyer, double checking that the house is armed as we leave them behind. I check again to make sure Joel is behind me as I round the corner of the hallway. He’s watching me, as always, but he doesn’t say anything. At my door, I hesitate.

“Do you want your privacy? I can leave before you…” he trails off, obviously confused. Why would I need privacy just to open my bedroom door?

“No,” my voice comes out as a whisper. I step inside, but I find myself turning around again. I feel…fear. Fear that he won’t be there. That if I don’t keep my eyes on him, he’ll disappear.

“I’ll be right outside,” Joel leans forward, dropping my bag inside the room.

I wring my hands, staring at our feet. I can’t close the door. I can’t be alone, and even more so, I can’t have him be alone. The image that clouded my head tonight, thinking someone had hurt him—

“Why didn’t you listen?” He asks softly. “You could have been hurt. Miss Russell, if someone were there, you could have been—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time. You need sleep.”

“So do you,” I say. His pained, weary eyes meet mine. “Please don’t stay outside.” Panic runs cold through my arms, in disbelief of what I’m saying.

“You’d prefer for me to stay in one of the guest rooms?”

“No,” I shake my head rapidly, “Can you stay with me? Please.”

Joel swallows audibly, taking a second to glance behind me at the room. Then he gives me a curt, professional nod. “Of course.”

He picks up the bag again, walking past me to set it on one of the chairs instead.

“I think…I think I’m going to shower.” I unzip the bag and reach for my toiletries.

“Shower?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

What? It took less than a half hour for us to get over here. My oven must be wrong…

“I’m just…cold. My hands,” I hold them out, no longer embarrassed for Joel to see them shake. His eyebrows thread together watching them quiver.

“Okay. I’ll be here.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs. I practically sprint for the bathroom, wanting the steam to expel the dread from my pores as soon as possible. I lock the door behind me for added protection.

Once I'm under the water, it does help to ease some of my tension. But even when I decide to wash my hair, it’s still not distracting enough. Where at my own apartment, I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to be taken out of there, I now feel wired. Like it’s a necessity for me to stay awake, and to will my mind to focus on other things. If I try to sleep, what will happen? If I close my eyes or think too long, I just see Joel again, bloody and injured on my living room rug.

I take an extra few minutes to lather up my body, trying to wash away this new buzz running through me. After the shower, I take an equal amount of time using lotion for the same reason. But the buzz becomes an itch, and I can’t think of a way to scratch it. Part of what I’m feeling is relief. There was a split second tonight where I thought Joel had been seriously hurt, and in my mind, he was unconscious. Unable to move. I knew he was angry with me for defying his order, but I would be far too angry with myself if I hadn’t done it. And the relief I feel now overtakes any remaining feeling of panic, though it demands further distraction to keep the panic at bay. I want to run towards that relief, but I’ve completed every distraction I can in this room. And that’s when I become incredibly aware of the fact that Joel is right outside the door, safe.

Safe and… alone…in my bedroom.

As I wrap myself up in a robe, I still feel that there is an itch needing to be scratched. A need for relief that I can hold, something tangible that confirms he’s truly alright. And I can think of only one way to honor this relief. Only one way to provide a distraction.

Exiting out of the bathroom, Joel stands, averting his gaze when he sees I’m only wearing a robe. With his eyes on the door, I start to cross over to him.

“Miss Russell, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I know that this has been a long night—-”

Standing chest to chest with him, his face is bewildered as I grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him down to my lips.

I kiss him harshly. Desperately. Pulling him as close to me as I can manage, though I can’t seem to get him close enough. His hands fly to my hips, holding me against him. I sigh, realizing how terribly I’ve wanted him to touch me for god knows how long. I wish the robe wasn’t so thick so I could feel his calloused hands against my skin. And he smells so good.

But his lips…he’s barely kissing me back. Not even a moment later, as if someone jolted him, he grabs my hands, pulling them away from his neck. He holds them in front of his chest, creating a barricade between us.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.

“Yes,” I practically whine, “I am.” I try to pull out of his grasp, but he shakes his head.

“You’re still shaking. You may be in shock.” Joel’s chest is heaving, assessing my face like he’s looking for injury.

At that, rejection hits me in the gut, and I feel my cheeks turn a deep shade of red. I try to pull away again, now feeling the panic resurface.

What have I done? He doesn’t want that. He works for my father, for fuck’s sake. Now I might lose him anyway.

“Hey,” Joel whispers, tugging my hands closer to his chest now. “You’re okay.”

“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…” I shake my head over and over as Joel shushes me. “That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry, I’m just glad you’re—alright.” I hiccup, and tears are dangerously close to spilling over now.

“You’re okay,” Joel repeats, now pulling me flush against his chest. He continues to shush me softly, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and one smoothing my hair. I don’t hug him back, exactly. One of my arms rests awkwardly against his, and the other hangs at my side. I don’t have the energy to determine what I should do after a slip up this bad. He might quit. He spoke of relationships at that Halloween party, and how they interfere with the job. I am the job, and I’ve completely disrespected his boundaries.

“I can feel you thinking too hard,” his chest rumbles against my ear as he talks. “Relax. You’ve been through enough tonight.”

The softness of his words ends up pushing a few tears over the edge, and I’m grateful he can’t see them. Thank god I decided to wash my hair, as now it provides coverage for my tenuity.

I’m not sure how long he holds me like this, but eventually, he asks if I think I can lay down for a while, and I nod into his t-shirt. I feel my chest tighten again as I crawl into bed, and I realize that he’s sitting in one of the chairs again, letting his head fall back to at least pretend to sleep. I try my best not to let the distance bother me, but I can feel my heartbeat fighting back, climbing to regain the insane rhythm it had before.

“Um,” I clear my throat, taking another breath before I continue. “Do you think you could sleep over here?”

I feel like a child. Lost and inconsolable over something that was, for now, solved. There was no reason to worry about losing him right now. No reason to be afraid in this room. But that feeling of loss is prevalent throughout my body, and I had thought we were safe at my apartment too.

Joel’s face is unreadable, staring back at me.

“I promise not to kiss you again,” I say, making my voice as normal as possible, attempting to add some humor to it. After another moment, this does make him crack the smallest of smiles. Every muscle in my body loosens as I see him get up from the chair and make his way over to the bed.

He lays on top of the blankets, which I should have anticipated. He couldn’t be further away from me, otherwise he would be on the floor, but he still decided to lay down facing me. I give him a tiny smile.

“I know you’re like, a trained killer or something, but I don’t care. If you tell anyone about me asking that, I will actually kill you.”

He chuckles enough to shake the bed a little, and my smile grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

After a few moments, I whisper, “I am really sorry, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t have touched you—”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He shifts his body, angling away from me slightly.

“Okay…but if you want to report it, or change assignments, I understand.”

Joel just shakes his head, letting his eyes close for a minute. “I don’t want that, Miss Russell. I appreciate it but… no.”

“Alright. Then I promise not to touch you again without your permission.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward before he hides it with a cough.

“Likewise.”

Likewise? He didn’t even return the kiss…But it doesn't matter. He’s probably trying to make me feel better, as usual.

“Do you want me to turn off the light?” He asks.

“I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the remote next to me. I leave on one desk lamp in the corner of the room. I don’t need any of the furniture turning into humanoid shapes in the dark.

I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. It could have been hours, but the light outside is still pitch black. I can hear Joel’s steady breathing, but I know he isn’t asleep. Every so often, I feel his eyes peering over at me. After a long while, the weight of the night destroys my defenses, and I dare to ask.

“Why would a stalker want me to become CEO?”

I feel the eyes on the side of my face again. “They’ve probably put you on a pedestal. They want to see you succeed,” he says factually. I’m silent long enough for him to continue. “Do you want to be CEO?”

“Yes,” I answer without thinking, “But most people don’t want me to be.”

The bed shifts beside me, and now Joel’s whole body is turned to face me again. “Why would you say that?”

That question, this conversation…is something I haven’t dared speak about to anyone. Not even my friends. I trust Joel with my life, but not with this. This was worth more than just my life. I turn toward him before responding. I want to be able to gauge exactly how he reacts to what I’m about to say.

“I…did something, a few months ago. I’m not sure who in Russell Corp knows. If anyone knows. But I think you were hired to watch and report, not to protect,” I take a long inhale, phrasing my words just right, “I think there are people in the company who want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. I thought you were hired to do that.”

His eyebrows crease, his brown eyes searching mine in the dim light.

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

I nod. “It seems that way. But…I don’t trust anyone with this, Mr. Miller. No one else knows what I know. And I don’t know enough to trust your reason for being here.” It feels slightly absurd not to trust him after tonight especially. I thought someone was in my home, and I trusted Joel to take care of it. He moved without thinking. He put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis for me and the people I care about. Regardless of what he gets paid, it’s evident that he cares. But even with all of that knowledge between us both, he doesn’t look offended by my words.

“I’m from Texas.”

I stifle a laugh. “And that’s supposed to make you trustworthy?”

“You said you didn’t know enough about me. You don’t have to tell me anything now, or trust me now, for that matter. But if it would help…ask me anything you want to know.” His eyes are so sincere, his voice so gentle, that a small part of me would cry again if I let it.

“Do you have a family?” The question comes out without a filter, but I don’t care. I have wondered that before, and I would actually like to know.

“Of my own? No. My parents are gone, but I have a brother, Tommy. He lives in Texas, too.”

“Does he have a twang like you?”

It was a genuine question, but it makes him laugh. “You think I have a twang?”

“You do have a twang. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

It’s far too dark, and far too late, and I know I’m probably imagining things at this point. But I swear, Joel’s cheeks deepen with embarrassment.

“In that case, I suppose he does.”

“I suppose he does,” I mimic him, exaggerating his accent tenfold. Joel chuckles, shaking his head against his pillow. “What? You know I’m right.”

“I know that you’re loopy. That’s what I know. Any other questions?”

I think for a moment. “Who taught you to play guitar?”

“No one, really. I’m self-taught.”

“Ah. I should have guessed.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. You’re…utilitarian. Independent, I guess. You seem like the type to teach yourself things.”

“I thought I was the observant one,” he says with a smile.

“Not the only observant one, is what I believe I said.” I unsuccessfully stifle a yawn as I say it.

“Not the only tired one, either. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” I let out a long, unrestrained yawn now, “I should let you sleep.”

He shushes me again. “Stop apologizing. Just close your eyes.”

I want to tell him not to tell me what to do. But his voice is so soothing, and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me is the most calm I’ve felt all night. Truthfully, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in weeks.

Sleep finds me, and carries me away with ease.

Next Chapter

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[chaotic-orphan]

June of Doom, Day Twenty-nine:

It’s really not that big of a deal: bruises // secrets // acceptance

CW: bruises, implied abuse, abuse of power, unaware victim, unaccepting victim, beating, aftermath of beating, concerned caretaker, extreme whumper, gaslighting, blood, punishment, unfair treatment of Whumpee,

Extremely unedited, i am currently s-i-c-k… so I wrote it and didn’t want to tag but now I have time to tag, yaaayyyy

P.s. if there’s any tags I missed please tell me my brain is dying <3

*~*~*~*~*

It was two pathetic knocks on Villain’s door that roused them from sleep. Followed by another weak one and then there was a heavy thud against their door. Villain was out of bed after the first knock, bare feet hitting hard wood and padding out to the living room in their apartment. They grabbed their gun from table beside the door when they heard the thud and peeked out the peephole into the empty stairwell. They clicked the safety off and quietly drew back the hammer.

Frowning, they left the chain lock on the slider and unlocked the door, positioning themselves into the crook of the opening and pulling the door open. It flung open and Villain aimed the barrel at the floor to the figure slumped there.

A very bloody Hero.

Villain blinked back the sleep in their eyes, but they were right the first time. They cursed and closed the door again, sliding the chain off the latch and opening it again. They clicked the hammer back, put the safety on their gun and placed it on the table again before bending down to their crumbled Hero.

“Hero? Hey, Hero,” Villain said, snapping their fingers in front of Hero’s eyes. They got a minuscule moan in reply and Villain cursed to themselves. They put an arm around Hero’s shoulders, the other under Hero’s knees and hoisted them up.

Hero’s eyes sprung open, gasping cradling their side and hunching in on themselves. “Hey! Hey, Hero. It’s okay. It’s me. It’s Villain. I’m just taking you inside, okay?”

“V—Villain, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go, I’m sorry,” Hero whispered against Villain’s chest and Villain shushed them as they closed the door to their apartment. Trying to pretend that Hero’s ragged breathing wasn’t pulling at every heartstring, and gently lay Hero on their couch. “No! No, I’m bleeding… the couch… it’ll— agh, s-stain,” Hero protested but Villain put a firm hand on Hero’s shoulder to keep them lying down.

“I can clean the couch, Hero,” said Villain softly. “It’s really not that big of a deal. You’re more important.”

Hero opened their mouth to protest again, but before any words could come, Hero grimaced, clenching their teeth as they held their side, fingers digging into their waist.

“I’ll get ice,” Villain said after a quick once over. Hero’s clothes weren’t bloody (except from the obvious blood dripping down Hero’s forehead and nose) but the rest was most likely some bad bruising. Villain stood and walked around the couch into the kitchen, calling back to Hero. “Tell me what happened.”

Villain looked into the freezer and only saw a half empty tub of vanilla ice cream and three gel ice packs. Villain took the ice packs, leaving the ice cream a shut the door. They stopped at the sink on the way back, wetting a clean towel and walking to Hero who was still trying to sit up.

“Stay still,” Villain said, “you’re obviously hurt.”

“I’m fine,” Hero denied, but recanted after the deadpan stare from Villain. “Okay. I’m not fine.”

“Can I take your jacket off?” Villain asked, setting everything down on the coffee table.

Hero smiled. “So forward of you Villain.”

Villain smiled back. “You’re bleeding on my couch, Hero, I think we’re past the dinner date phase.”

“Fair enough,” Hero laughed, then stopped with a wince. Villain set their jaw and stood, trying to remove Hero’s jacket as gently as possible.

Hero’s arms were always a shock to Villain. Littered with so many different scars and bruises and burns at any give time, and Hero used them as if they weren’t damaged at all. Continued with their life as if they didn’t even notice they were hurt. Sometimes Villain wondered if Hero even felt the pain anymore, and was kind enough to not ask about the several deepest cuts on Hero’s wrist.

There were certain lines they never crossed with Hero. Some secrets that were still their own… despite the recent blurring of lines between friendship and enemies Hero and Villain had been towing.

“What happened?” Villain asked again, breaking the gel ice pack and handing it to Hero. Hero took it gladly, pressing it against their abdomen while Villain cracked another to activate it and glanced up at Hero for permission to help them.

“My… my ribs, I can—“

“I can too,” Villain told them and Hero bit their lip before nodding and pointing at the sorest spot. When Villain pressed the ice pack to it Hero jerked away, hissing sharply.

“Villain. Villain. Wait— ow! Ow! Ow! Okay. Okay! We switch, okay?” Hero howled, dropping the ice pack on their abdomen and grabbing the one by their ribs with the opposite hand. Tears were in their eyes, so Villain didn’t fight them on their pain. A shaky hand went over Villain’s and Hero said: “it’s okay. I got it.”

So Villain let go and sat back on the coffee table, clasping their hands between their thighs and levelling Hero with a pointed stare.

“Superhero put me on 1st tonight,” Hero began. 1st being the rich quarter of the city with the banks and the businesses and the Hero tower as it’s shining jewel. “I told them I knew the dregs better but they refused, put Other Hero there instead,” Hero grumbled and Villain had to smile at the disdain colouring Hero’s voice.

Other Hero was a fanciful prick at best of times and dangerously incompetent at their worst. Which was all the time.

“So I went on patrol on 1st, and Other Villain appeared for the first time in two months since they blew the warehouse at the docks,” Hero told them and Villain nodded, remembering the burns on Hero’s arms after they rushed in headfirst to save a ship worker. “I reported it and Superhero told me to give chase so I did.”

“Did other Villain do this to you?” Villain asked, voice hard, eyes narrowing. Hero shook their head, and a drop of blood fell onto their cheek. Villain reached forward with the wet towel and brushed it away. Hero’s eyes widened marginally as they glanced at Villain’s gentle hand, then to Villain’s face.

Villain found Hero’s eyes and their breath caught in their throat at the pure openness of Hero. They remembered reading somewhere that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and if so, then Hero was the best person Villain had ever known.

“Did Other Villain—“ Villain began again, but Hero smiled a little sadly and said: “no.”

“No, they got away. Fled into sixth, but I’m pretty sure I stopped whatever destructive plan they had for the night so that’s a bonus at least.”

Villain frowned as they wiped the blood from Hero’s upper lip and leaned back on the coffee table. “So who did this to you?”

Hero didn’t say anything. Though they did gasp when the wet towel touched the bruise on their cheekbone. Villain wiped at the small cut in the centre of it, while Hero avoided any and all eye contact.

Villain nodded silently, pursing their lips slightly and sitting back on the coffee table again. They grabbed the spare icepack and stood, walking to the kitchen.

“Do you like vanilla ice cream?” Villain asked, pausing at the doorframe and glancing back at Hero. Hero peeked over the couch with confused eyes.

“What?”

“I have a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer. You want some?”

Hero let out a short huff of laughter. “Umm. Sure.”

“Okay then.”

Villain got to work. They put the bloody towel into the sink, the last ice pack into the freezer and took the tub of vanilla out. They grabbed two spoons and walked back to Hero, sitting down again on the coffee table and opening the tub with a swift and comforting clack clack clack to fill the silence.

Hero gestured with their elbows uselessly and Villain looked down at the spoon in their hand, then back to Hero’s occupied hands pressing the ice packs to their abs and ribs. Villain looked back at the spoon, then dug it into the ice cream and got a decent sized scoop before bringing the spoon to Hero’s closed lips.

Hero laughed then winced, and said: “you’re going to feed me?”

Villain threw their free hand in the air, a helpless gesture. “If you don’t eat it it’ll melt and you’ll be wearing it.”

“Okay,” Hero said with a smile and opened their mouth wide enough for Villain to put the spoon into Hero’s mouth. Villain swallowed as if they were the one eating ice cream, and drew it back out, going back to get another scoop.

They raised it again and Hero shook their head with that same smile that made something warm flutter in Villain’s chest and said: “no, no. You now.”

Villain glanced at the spoon, the same one Hero had just eaten off, and put it in their mouth. Hero’s eyes crinkled at the sides when they rested their head back against the arm rest of the couch.

Then their expression melted into one of sadness, their eyes going to the ceiling. They bit their cheek, then said so quietly Villain nearly missed it:

“Superhero did this,” they said and Villain paused mid scoop. Their head snapped to Hero who was still staring at the ceiling. “When I reported that Other Villain fell out of my jurisdiction and handed it to Other Other Hero in 6th, Superhero called me to their office. So I went, knowing I was going to be punished for letting them—“

“Punished?” Villain repeated, tightening their grip on the spoon in the ice cream.

Hero just nodded, their throat bobbing as they swallowed hard.

“Punished for— for what?!” Villain demanded hotly.

Hero just kept staring at the ceiling.

“For not catching Other Villain. I should have been faster. Should have been better as Superhero’s protégé,” Hero spat the last word. “I let them down. Embarrassed them by being useless. So I get punished for letting them go.”

“You didn’t let them go!” Villain protested, slamming the tub of ice cream onto the coffee table. Hero finally — finally — looked at them. “They left your jurisdiction! It was another Hero’s job to catch them.”

“To pick up my slack—“

“No!” Villain yelled, and Hero flinched. Villain let out a long sigh, running their hands through their hair to try and calm down. This was barbaric, how could Hero be so okay with this? This treatment? Villain’s eyes widened at the realisation, shock colouring their voice as they whispered: “it’s not the first time, is it?”

Hero’s eyes shuttered close, letting out a shaky breath of their own. That was all the confirmation Villain needed.

“Fuck. Fuck! Hero! How long? How long have they been beating you?”

“It was apart of my training,” Hero confessed. “It wasn’t physical punishments at first… they just told me to do extra reps of push-ups, pull-ups, extra ten minutes on the treadmill. To make me stronger, make me fast, build my stamina. Then one day I couldn’t bench the weight Superhero gave me and— and I told them it was too much…”

“Hero,” Villain whispered, reaching forward and putting their hand over Hero’s on their abs. They just needed to touch them, to show them that they were they for them.

Hero shook their head, tears streaming down their cheeks as they continued: “they… they spotted the weight and told me to put my knuckles back on my collarbones so I did, while Superhero put an extra weight on either side of the bar… I was so scared that I just lay there, waiting…

Then Superhero put the bar back down on my hands and it crushed me. I tried to push it up, but I couldn’t, it was too heavy, too heavy for me and the more it stayed there the harder it got to breathe and my whole body was shaking… Superhero just watched me from above, this look of utter… utter disgust. I was trying to make them proud, and I was disappointed them no matter what I did… they left me there until I was able to push the bar up myself and get myself out and when I did they were so proud.”

Hero cut themselves off with a sudden burst of sobs and Villain tightened their hand on Hero’s. They felt so… so useless. How do you react to that? How you do even begin comforting someone who’s been through that.

“That was only the beginning,” Hero sniffed, “after that Superhero started beating me personally, called it sparring. Training, to make me better before my debut. To make me unstoppable. And I still let them down to this day.”

The look Hero gave Villain shook Villain to their core. The desperation on their gear stained face, the puffiness of their eyes and the steeled determination behind them.

“I just want to be good, Villain. I just want to do good and make them happy, but I’m useless. I’m pathetic. I can’t even stop one villain! I deserve this. I deserve this, I don’t deserve your kindness,” Hero said sniffing, pushing Villain’s hand away and sitting up with a grunt of pain. Villain tried to get them to lay back down again but Hero held up a hand and said: “don’t.”

“Hero, please. Let me help you. Superhero is psychopathic! You don’t deserve to be treated like that! Please, please just— just stay the night. We can talk more in the morning, okay? Not even about this is you like.”

“No Villain, I need to—“ Hero winced as they put their feet on the ground. Villain lunged to catch them and right them again.

Villain took Hero’s chin in their hand and tilted their head up to look at them. Hero was breathing heavy from the sudden exertion and stabbing pain.

“You know what Superhero is doing is wrong. Otherwise you wouldn’t have come here, Hero,” Villain said softly, raising their other hand to Hero’s cheek and stroking a thumb under Hero’s eye, catching a stray tear that was about to fall. “You wouldn’t have come to let me help you, so let me help. I won’t ask again, I’ll just keep you here against your will. So please, stay. Just for tonight.”

Hero leaned into Villain’s hand, their soft, gentle touch and let out a sigh of defeat. “Okay,” Hero whispered and Villain smiled.

They reached a hand down and helped Hero to their feet. “Wait, Villain—“

“You’re sleeping on the bed, I’ll grab the couch.”

“No, agh, Villain—“

“No arguing Hero, I won’t change my mind.”

Hero was tired, so they walked with Villain to the bedroom and allowed themselves to be taken care of, for just one night.

[shalom-iamcominghome]

Shalom!

I'm on a journey to convert to judaism but I have no idea how to tell my family. I'm 26 years old so I am old enough to do things on my own and de decide for myself. But I come from a atheist family, besides from my somewhat religious grandma (christian), her very christian sister, my aunt who's more spiritual and my christian cousin (on my dad's side). But both my parents are very atheist, my mom earlier said today she knows g-d isn't real. I still am searching on what I believe and don't believe but I know I feel at home in judaism and this very beautiful community. But it's just, how do I tell them? Do I tell them?

I'll give some context and say that my dad is the only person I have intentionally told about judaism, though the way he found out was essentially through gossip. I don't have the direct experience of sitting someone down with the intention to tell them (though I have come out as trans and in my opinion, it can be similar to telling others about conversion).

So, first off, I would ask yourself why you may want them to know. That might seem like a question with an obvious answer, perhaps, but I think it's important. Do you hope that they'll accommodate your potential needs after you tell them, such as letting you observe shabbos or keep kosher? Do you want them to understand a facet of your identity? When you understand why you might want to tell them this information, you can start to understand what it is that you need from them.

There are many ways to tell them this, so I'll say: do what comes naturally to you. Do you have difficulty speaking, but writing is a breeze? You could write them a letter or email. You could talk over the phone, or have coffee. However, tell anybody in a neutral environment. Avoid revealing this in the heat of an argument, or if there's tension between you and the other person/people. They will be much less willing to be understanding.

If you decide to tell them, you may want to focus on how judaism enriches your life or makes you happy. So perhaps you could go into happy memories of how you came to judaism - they may never understand your decision, but they don't need to understand it on a personal level. If they know that you are fulfilled and happy, they may be more receptive. You don't need to defend your religious beliefs whatever they are, or what practices you keep - just emphasize how they contribute to your life or sense of self.

Finally: you don't have to tell anybody any information you don't want to. I tend to leave out a ton of information when I am talking about my personal identity with judaism. My dad, for example, would simply not care for or remember that I'm converting. He would find it confusing. As far as he's concerned, I'm religious, I'm in a jewish community, and I am semi-observant. You don't have to pour out your heart and soul to appeal to others, and if like me, you like keeping your thoughts, feelings, and identity close to your chest, you can. In the same vein, my family knows I'm trans but doesn't know I'm queer because I'm protective of my identity and I don't think it's relevant. In the exact same framework, this can apply to your journey of conversion. Use your best judgement.

Some more practicalities: try to discern what their opinions are of jews. I felt safe around my dad about my affiliation with judaism because he has been much better about religious tolerance than other things. I knew that he knew very little about jews, but that his ignorance was rather benevolent disinterest because he already has a religion and a community he feels he belongs to. Things like that can be a decent litmus test as to how they might react to knowing your affiliation with judaism. However, there are people who are accepting only if it's strangers doing it, not a loved one. That one is really tricky to figure out until you essentially come out to them, however, it isn't always a guarantee that they will be unaccepting

I wish you all the best, anon. I know you'll make the right choice for you, and I hope you are able to embody all of what makes you exactly as g-d created. You've got this, and I hope you feel welcomed enough here to come back as often as you'd like

[writingquestionsanswered]

I'm practicing writing by creating short stories, and I have laid out the whole development for this enemies to friends work. I just don't have a reason for their initial disagreement, though. I figured maybe the Person A always tries to annoy the uptight Person B to get a reaction from them, but my problem is that they're about 23-24 years old so I don't think these are things that adults this age would do. I see this interaction in many YA novels too, but do people of these ages really have this kind of interaction? I'm younger than said ages and friends I'm surrounded with don't really act like this anymore. Can I still use that for the initial conflict, or if not, can you give me good examples of initial conflict/disagreement that is can illustrate their 'enemies' status that is more suitable for the age range? Thank you, and love your writing tips.

Character Conflict for 20-Somethings

I mean... never say never with people. I definitely know adults who behave like children. However, I agree that the standard "annoying to get a reaction" probably doesn't work here. For one thing, when kids do it, there's usually an underlying cause... a reason they're craving attention from this person. It may be a misguided and unknowingly unacceptable attempt to get attention from someone they like. It may be that they're craving attention in general. Or it could be that they're engaging in bullying behavior for any of the reasons kids do. But you can only go so far in life before being confronted with why this behavior is wrong, and if someone doesn't learn that lesson by the time they're an adult, that's a red flag and probably not someone you want your character to ever be friends with. Unless it's a story about your character being the person who finally gets this person to see the error of their ways.

And that's not to say there couldn't be other reasons an adult might behave this way. I'm not a psychologist or therapist so I can't say, but it's definitely something you could research. In any case, unless you really want that to be the reason, I think you probably can do better.

There are lots of people two 20-somethings could start out as enemies. They might be rivals for a job, a love interest, a prize or title, or some other achievement. They might just get off on a really bad foot, with a bad misunderstanding, an accident, or a mistake. They might have opposing beliefs, ideals, or goals. They might dislike each other due to societal, cultural, religious, or other differences. They could even have a bad history or be from feuding families or warring countries.

Hopefully something there will work for you!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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