#i freaking forgot how to tag my bad

[to-illustrate-the-stars]

thinking about them so much all the time every day (i am playing totk)

[garyfiddlesticksdammit]

molli doodle (but not really because it took me a long time) ...mo

[purplekittybanan]

Me, resisting the urge to make any of my humanoid ocs have gay yuri...

For now, their stand alone... but the urge to make it GAY is strong....

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[idolomantises]

I haven't drawn Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss redesigns since last year and the fandom still regularly tags me/picks fights with me over them. I did not think a couple drawings would live in people's heads so rent free.

Like you can go find my redesigns on twitter, they're still very public. I just label them as "Angel Dust redesign" or "Alastor redesign". The only time I think I explicitly called a design bad was when I said I found Beelzebub's design atrocious. Which it is. It's an overdesigned mess that doesn't convey the sin at all, I'm allowed to say I don't like it. And even still, when I posted the art, I still labeled it as "Beelzebub redesign".

I'm not going to forget when you fans regularly stalked my account and PATREON just to figure out when I would upload the redesigns. You think I forgot about when I posted my Angel Dust redesign which was just meant to improve my old design and you people harassed me for days? You accused me of "baiting" fans because you are so self-obsessed you think everything I do is explicitly to upset you. You people misgendered me, told me to kill myself, called me a fucking cockroach and flat out threatened to assault me multiple times. Sure I was harsh about my critiques, but I didn't resort to homophobic and transphobic comments like you people did with my Angel Dust redesign because for some unexplained reason you diehard fans who have been following this project for 10 years didn't know that he's meant to be a drag queen. When I did a quick redesign of Katie Killjoy on my personal tumblr, guess what? You people flipped the fuck out, AGAIN.

I can't even talk about my own religion without you sad, paranoid losers thinking I'm trashtalking hazbin hotel. You made up some rumor that I block all Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss fans (despite being mutuals/friends with people who are fans of the shows or actually work on them) just so you could justify harassing me even more. You told me for years that I should wait until the Hazbin series dropped to get my full thoughts out and when it did you people still freaked out and berated me.

Even when I talked about my situation after posting my Angel Dust redesign, instead of apologizing, fans claimed I planned this hostile reaction to begin with to make the fandom look bad. That I was "pulling a transphobia card" for sympathy. I didn't do shit. You people have gotten more aggressive about your hate towards me because people finally saw how incredibly inappropriate and vile you people act over a midtier cartoon written by someone who has so many allegations of bullying, transphobia, racism and workplace abuse that it's become harder and harder for you to deny, so you take out your unrepressed anger on me.

I know the only reason you people target me is because I'm a big artist who doesn't kiss Viv's ass. You want me to be a diehard fan of hers like every other big artist you people bully into worshipping Viv and her show and I won't do it. So you just obsessively stalk and monitor my account and accuse every little thing I do as a spiteful attack so you can justify your little harassment campaigns again. It's pathetic.

Seek help, find a hobby, stop obsessing over people who don't like the same thing as you. It's getting sad.

[santanasaintmendes]

“might sound crazy but it ain’t no lie, baby bye bye bye”

part 6! to the Cosmic Girl Records

summary: the gang goes to watch the new deadpool and wolverine movie. . . without you? oh no, that can’t be right.

ollie bearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

all photos are found on pinterest!

warnings: swearing, nothing too bad this time lol

a/n: wow. this took forever to finally get out bc i started so many other fics 😭 but here it is, it’s a bit short but enjoy!

landonorris has posted on his story: 

liked by alex_albon, georgerussell64, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, lilymhe and 5,292,402 others 

landonorris: the gang is back 💪

tagged alex_albon and georgerussell64

view 11,482,493 comments 

 user1: uh oh, has y/n seen this yet 😬

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 alex_albon: 😰 

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 georgerussell64: 😰

user2: may the 2019 rookies rest in peace 😔🙏 

user3: rip lando he’s in for a mouthful 

 user4: why’s everyone freaking out 

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 user5: just wait, give it a minute 

unfortunatelyy/n: MF???

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 user5: and there it is. 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: UMMM WHAT IS THIS 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT HAPPENED TO OH I'M SORRY I CANT COME OVER FOR DINNER I’VE GOT A DOCTORS APPOINTMENT THIS FRIDAY 

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 user6: OH NO. 

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 user10: dawg’s dead fs this time 😔

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 user7: LANDO RUN WHILE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE 😭😭

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 user8: he’s probably left the country by now 

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 landonorris: 😀 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE 

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 landonorris: no. 

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 landonorris: @alex_albon @georgerussell RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN 

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 georgerussell64: YOU ASSHAT I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST IT 

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 landonorris: YOU WERE LITERALLY THE ONE WHO TOLD ME TO POST IT 

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 user9: oop 🫢

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 georgerussell64: i never took you for a LIAR 

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 landonorris: @alex_albon you were there you believe me right? 

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 alex_albon:  . . . ummmm

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 landonorris: i see how it is i’m friends with a bunch of TRAITORS 

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 user10: how does it feel to be betrayed by your best friends 

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 alex_albon: 😶

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 unfortunatelyy/n: PICK UP YOUR PHONE 

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 landonorris: omg i forgot about you 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: oh you are so dead 

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, carlossainz64, alexandrasaintmleux, maxfewtrell, danielricciardo and 23,782,883 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: whoever said revenge is best served cold clearly has never had chimichangas before 

tagged landonorris

view 22,682,692 comments 

user1: HELP SHES AT IT AGAIN 😭

user2: absolutely violated my poor boy 😔

user3: i fear he may never learn his lesson 

 landonorris: oh i hate you. 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: just remember, you did this to yourself 

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 landonorris: i hope you 

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 user17: bro died mid comment 

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 user4: his pr team got to him before he could ruin his life 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what i thought punk 

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 mclarenracingf1: 🖕

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 user5: LANDO?! 😭😭

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 user6: HE DID NOT LMAOO 

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 user11: pr team probably took away his phone privileges so now he’s hacked into mclaren insta acc 😭

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 user12: lando rn: 🤓💻

user9: the side eye goes hard 

 user10: HELP WHERE DID SHE GET THESE PHOTOS 

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 user14: she’s probably got a whole collection 

|  user15: mission: steal’s y/n phone 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: 😓

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 user16: HELP HAHA 

 alex_albon: can you send me that second pic 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: don’t even think about it, you’re next 

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 alex_albon: 😨

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 alex_albon: @lilymhe your girlfriend is bullying me 

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 user7: alex albon confirmed snitch 

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 user13: at least he’s not in denial anymore 

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 user8: can’t do nothing wrong in front of this guy otherwise next thing u know police are at your front door

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

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 lilymhe: do you deserve it 

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 alex_albon: no?????

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 unfortunatelyy/n: HAH what a little liar

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 alex_albon: why do you hate me 

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 alex_albon: no wait don’t answer that 

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 alex_albon: wait i’m sorry 

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 alex_albon: don’t embarrass me please 

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 alex_albon: answer my texts y/n

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 alex_albon: please y/n

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, logansargeant, landonorris, georgerussell64 and 23,832,993 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: shhhh, my common sense is tingling, something you clearly don’t have 

tagged alex_albon 

view 11,482,399 comments 

user1: the deadpool references, she is not holding back 😭 

user2: dayummmm pop off queen 

user3: can’t wait till it’s george’s turn i just KNOW she’s going to use the 2023 intro pose 

 alex_albon: HOW MANY TIMES DO I NEED TO APOLOGISE 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: @landonorris ?

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 landonorris: do i have to 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: yep 

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 landonorris: are you sure 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: YES 

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 landonorris: fine.

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 landonorris: she only takes apologies in cash no card 💅🎀💋 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: mhm that’s right 

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 user4: HELP 

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 user5: girl has homie in a chokehold fr 

user6: the second pic 😭

 lilymhe: what is that first pic 🤣 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: alex tried to steal my car so I ran him over 

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 alex_albon: THAT DID NOT HAPPEN 

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 landonorris: y/n doesn’t even have her licence 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: HEY WHAT DID I SAY 

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 landonorris: im sorry 😔

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 unfortunatelyy/n: as you should be 

georgerussell64: why do i have a feeling that i’m next 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: my goodness, he has a brain AND feelings would you look at that 

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 georgerussell64: oh you think you’re so funny don’t you 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: i do actually 

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 georgerussell64: 🖕 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: 😘 

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 user7: they’re never beating the siblings allegations i fear 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: negative. i would rather die than be related to this child 

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 user8: child 😭 i’m wheezing 

liked by landonorris, alex_albon, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, olliebearman, carlossainz55 and 6,923,749 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: you look like something i drew with my left hand, which is coincidentally my non dominant hand 

view 3,482,429 comments 

user2: I KNEWWW ITTTT AHAHAHA I CALLED IT BITCHES 

 user1: HELP Y/N WHERE DID U FIND THAT SECOND PIC 😭😭

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 unfortunatelyy/n: dm me 😌 

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 georgerussell64: nO STOP 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: whatcha gonna do old man 

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 user5: OLD MAN IM WHEEZING 💀

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 user6: so is george 

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 user7: 😭😭

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 georgerussell64: call in the reinforcements @landonorris @alex_albon 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: AHAHAHAHAHHA 

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 georgerussell64: why are you laughing . . .  guys? guys where are you 

|  unfortunatelyy/n: their loyalty lies with me peasant 

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 georgerussell64: i can never win around here

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 unfortunatelyy/n: im glad you’ve come to terms with that 

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 georgerussell64: OH YOU SUCK 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: that’s what you get for being an ass 

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 georgerussell64: IT WAS LANDO’S IDEA 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: GASP

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 unfortunatelyy/n: WHAT 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: jk i already know 

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 user6: HELP 😭

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 georgerussell64: then why are u getting mad at me 😭

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 unfortunatelyy/n: cuz you’re fun to bully 

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 georgerussell64: blocked and reported 🛑

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 unfortunatelyy/n: its ok you’re not the first 

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 landonorris: she’s right 😐

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 unfortunatelyy/n: ugliness rears it’s head once again 

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 landonorris: oh you are the worst 

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 unfortunatelyy/n: 😘

a/n: tysm if you got to the end, have an amazing day xoxo santanasaintmendes

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin

[httpscomexe]

Forbidden Secret Desire

Summary: You just can’t seem to find yourself in this stupid school for freaks, but just when you’re sure no one cares anymore, a man with adamantium claws disturbs your groaning with a promise. Except he forgot to mention everything good comes with a price.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Anxiety, hints to violence, loneliness, I guess angst, manipulation (The reader is helpless and will look for anything to make her happy), some hints towards suggestive material near the end, bad language word use, pet names.

Word Count: 3523 (Find all chapters here) Chapter 2

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again.

Xavier's Mansion.

Also known as the school for “Gifted Youngsters,” or simply for what society prefers to call, “Freaks.”

You’d been there for a few months. You have a very unique power, something even Xavier himself doesn’t understand how to control.

You get these looks all the time when you're walking in the halls of the mansion. You notice it when people cover their mouths to whisper about you and you can’t not notice it when you seem to create a bubble around you as some of the kids try to keep a distance.

Yea, it hurts. You couldn’t deny that either. Sometimes you’d even have to find a restroom really fast to cry to yourself in one of the stalls, but even that hurts when some of the students quickly flood out of the restroom after you enter.

Nobody knew how much it hurt you, nobody even knew what powers you really had. If they did, you would’ve already been sent to the ice box, but luckily, you didn’t know how to use your more dangerous powers. You figured Xavier probably knew about them, considering he can read your mind and he knows just exactly how powerful you really were, but he didn’t know if you knew about them. And what you don’t know, can’t hurt you.

The hardest part was going to class. While everyone else had a table of four people, you sat alone. You did every project alone, with high soaring grades by the way, and you never got to speak to anyone during discussion or free time before the bell rang.

Sometimes you wish you were just… normal.

Of course, you weren’t the only person that was avoided. There were a few other students and even some of the adults that were always avoided. The only true friend you seemed to have was Hank McCoy. Everyone used to fear him, thinking that he couldn’t control the “Beast,” so he knows how you feel. But sometimes it only felt like he tolerated you because you were smart, and you were the only student that could aid him in building anything related to tech, and nanotech, and coding, and all that good stuff.

“Have you figured out why it isn’t working?” Was the first thing he asked you as you walked into his lab. Not a good morning, no how’s class, and not even hello. “I was thinking it had something to do with our maths, that maybe we calculated something wrong but I’ve looked over it again and again and couldn’t find a single thing wrong with it.” He tells you, picking up his notebook which you could see was now full of mathematical equations and random scribbles which seemed to radiate with frustration.

“I don’t think we got the maths wrong, I’ve checked it about a thousand times.” You say quietly, then gently put your bag full of books down under one of his desks so it wasn’t in the way. “Pretty sure it just needs to be smaller. Nothing really about maths though. Other than that, the fibres need to be smaller.”

“So it is the maths?”

“Eh, kind of.” You groan a little and stretch before grabbing a small, delicate pair of tweezers. “This is still too big.” You tell him, placing a sample of part of your tech down under a microscope, strong enough you’re surprised it couldn’t see atoms. “See, this is about as thick as a piece of hair, which is about the size of…” You sigh, looking back at your maths. “It’s about 50,000 nanoparticles, so not a lot, but we need it to be a little smaller.” You tell him, then look away from the small bit of tech to look up at him, his eyes squinted in your direction as is he was trying to understand what you were saying. “Okay I’ll dumb it down. It’s about as thick as a piece of hair right now, we need to numb it down to about… only one hundred nanoparticles, so it should be about as thick as graphene.”

“What’re you two nerds going on about now?” Another voice cuts into your explanation. It was none other than the gruffy voice of Wolverine.

“Oh hey, Logan.” Hank abandons the workstation to go over Logan who was making himself some coffee. “Just figuring out something about nano…”

“Nanoparticles.” You finish his sentence.

“Yea, that.” He says plainly, not bothering to look at you as you turn away from their conversation and look through the microscope.

“Now how do I make you that small…” You whisper to yourself, gently lifting the particle string with your delicate tweezers and examining it through the microscope. “Hmm…” You hum to yourself.

“Y/N!” Hank calls for you, and you turn around. “I’m going out to pick up some lunch for the both of us. What would you like? I’m getting Mexican.” You tell him what you would like, and he takes a moment to clean his work area and stuff his wallet in his pocket before he finally leaves. Leaving you to stand by your desk, doing all the work that has to do with nanotech, but also leaving the Wolverine with you.

“So what exactly are you two working on?” You hear his voice behind you, then you see him next to you.

“Teleportation. Not as complicated as you think, it’s just the fear that gets to everyone really.” You look away from your work, and your eyes land on him. His arms crossed as he leaned on a nearby table, showing enough respect to not sit on your working table.

“Seems complicated. What could possibly be scary about it though? It's just teleportation.”

“Well. If you think deeper into it. Your body and every single atom and particle of your body has to be completely broken down into an uncountable amount of smaller pieces and then your body has to rebuild itself in the secondary location, you just have to hope that it rebuilds you correctly. Or the next thing you know half your right arm is also half of your left leg with toes for fingers.” You say without taking a breath, taking a deep breath after letting it all out. Staring back up at him, his eyes were now squinted in confusion.

“I don’t think anyone is scared of that except you. I’ve never even thought about that.” He shrugs, taking a sip of his scalding hot black coffee.

“Yea well… I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.” You tell him through gritted teeth, mumbling before grabbing your notebook.

“You know…” He pauses, placing his hot coffee mug on another table away from your work before walking back up next to you, placing his palms on your table where there wasn’t electronic junk lying around. “You aren’t the only one.”

“The only one?” You question, turning and grabbing another tool before looking under your microscope, turning the string around to try and figure out how to break it into a smaller piece, without actually breaking it.

“The only one that’s feared.”

You stop what you’re doing, still looking into the microscope but not actually paying attention to what was right in front of your eyes.

“I’ve seen the way some of the other kids look at you, bub. Like there’s something wrong with you. I know how it feels to not fit in.” He crosses his arms as he leans against your table, attempting to get your full attention. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’ve seen you in the halls. Your name is Y/N, right?” You nod, his eyes and yours locked onto each other. “Logan.” He says, reaching his hand out to shake yours. Your hand basically gets engulfed by his as your soft hand meets his, which were rough and still yet soft, that surprised you, considering… “Hank talks about you a lot also. Not like he loves you or anything, he just tells me you’re smart. Like really smart.” He shrugs.

“Hm…” You hum a little. This is the first conversation you’ve had with someone in this school where they’ve actually treated you like a real human.

“Considering the way you explain this stuff, I’d say he’s probably right about you being smart.” He nodded towards the nanoparticles still sitting under your microscope, it was hard to see from even a foot away considering it was the width of a single piece of hair. “So what exactly is a nanoparticle? Or nano…”

“Nanoparticle" is correct. It just like a piece of tech or anything made of tech like certain fibers that can be visible to the naked eye but they’re very small. Just this one piece is the width of 50,000 nanoparticles.” You carefully pick up the string, and gently put it in it’s container.

“And what was that other thing you mentioned earlier?”

“Graphene?”

“Yea.”

“It’s made of about 50 to 100 nanoparticles, and it can be seen with the naked eye through a refraction of light in a mirror or clear substance that has a bend in it.”

“I’m not completely sure what any of that means. But I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“Yea, I’m kind of a nerd.” You chuckle awkwardly, then reach down to pull your bag over your shoulder, your social battery is pretty much near zero for the day, or maybe week. This was you first time ever speaking to Wolverine and you just nerd out on him? What were you thinking?

“Alright, I got food. Where are you heading?” Hank finally comes back, a bag full of boxes with the three of your foods in them in his right hand as he enters the lab, letting the metal door close behind him.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache, I was gonna go back to my room.”

“Well you know the rules. No food in the rooms.”

“Yea, yea. I know.” You sigh, setting your bag back down as he hands you your box of food and you hop onto one of the clean counters to sit down as you eat your food.

“Have you seen Xavier today?” He asks Logan, handing him his food also.

“No, he’s out on some special mission with Mystique right now, won’t be back for about another week.”

“And what does he have you doing? You never leave your room so I’m assuming he's’ got you doing something?” Hank stands next to Logan as they both talk back and forth.

“He has me teaching his third class and fifth class. I guess that one is the anger management class and the other is meditation.”

“Ah, so he’s got you teaching the two classes you used to fail in.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

After working in the lab, a lot shorter than usual, you actually head back to your room. You hate to admit it, but you’ve been ecstatic to meet Wolverine for years, and when you finally get to have a conversation with him, you just geek out on him about nanotech?

As you hang your bag on the wall and remove your jacket only to throw it on the back of your desk chair, you can’t help but want to just smash your head on a wall until you’ve forgotten about everything that’s happened today.

You mope as you walk into the centre of your small room, stopping and staring at the mess on your desk, a bunch of full notebooks covered in little pen markings of maths and science that no one else in the school would understand.

You walk to the desk, take one of the notebooks in your hand that had some free space left, and drop down on your bed. Reaching behind your head, you pull your sweater over your head and discard it on the floor before leaning against your headboard and clicking the back of your pencil until the led is at your desired length.

As soon as the tip of the led touches the paper, your mind wanders. That was so embarrassing… You realise, scribbling random maths into your notebook. I can’t believe I just made a professor hate me too… Not only had you dissociated, but you also completely nerded out. You talked about nanoparticles as if it was the only thing you cared about. You care about more though. You care about the family that was so scared of you they sent you off to this stupid school, calling you a freak and breaking all ties with you. No, you don’t care about them. But you care about your friends so much! You don’t have any friends. Hank is very special to you, he holds a space in your heart. A very, very small space. Yea he doesn’t care about you, you’ve just been able to make about a thousand breaks in his experiments. Then of course he would take all of the credit when he would show it to Professor X.

Why do you even try? I guess working with Hank is the equivalent of the other students going out to the mall with their friends. The only difference is he wasn’t your friend.

You take it back, you had one friend. If you could even call someone you only text cause you’re too scared for actual confrontation, a friend. Nightcrawler- or Kurt. The one guy who’s ever made an actual effort to try and be your friend, he’s just always out on missions. Or so that’s what his actual friends tell you. Maybe you should send him a text and actually verify whether he hates you or not… You get up from your bed and unzip your bag, sticking your hand into the pocket where you always shove your phone, but it’s not there. What the fuck? You take your bag off it’s hook and search the rest of the pockets, and still no phone. You go to your bed, searching under the covers and getting on your knees to check under the bed, still no phone. You check your desk, your discarded sweater, and you sweep the floor with your eyes looking for it, thinking it might’ve just fallen out of your pocket. You hate seeming desperate for a simple device that rots your brain to default, but God that phone is your escape.

“Hey, is everything alright-?” A voice cuts into your messy search as you turn around and your door is cracked just enough for him to stick his head in.

“Sorry, Mr. Howlett, I just can’t find my phone.” You chuckle awkwardly, standing in the centre of your room as he peeks around your room at the mess you’ve created.

“Again, you can call me Logan. I don’t mind it, I prefer it actually. Do you mind if I step in?”

“Yea, it’s fine. Sorry for the mess, I haven’t really had time to clean it.” You nervously link your fingers together in front of you and let your thumb pick at your skin as he comes in, closing the door gently behind him.

“It’s not a mess, just a sweater on the floor and notebooks on the bed.” Sweater on the floor. Of course. Yea, you were standing in the centre of your room, in your shorts and a black fucking clasp on bra. Now you suddenly feel naked standing in front of him, so you cross your arms, hoping to hide at least some of the embarrassment.

“Well uh, what’s up?” You try sounding cool but immediately cringe.

“You left this in the lab.” He tells you, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out your phone, handing it to you backside up, so you could see the glittery phone case, adorned with pink sparkles. “Was gonna give it to you in class but you kids go crazy over your phones.”

“Oh I wouldn’t go crazy…” You tell him, humour in your voice as you awkwardly look around your room, the sheets halfway off the bed and your pillows tossed in the middle, the result in the crazy search for your phone. “Would just be a little annoyed…”

“So is everything okay?”

“Yea, why do you ask?”

“I was knocking on your door and sayin’ your name. but you didn’t answer.”

“Oh,” You laugh dryly. “Sorry, sometimes I get lost in my head and kinda just block out all sounds and sometimes I’ll block out what’s in front of me."

“Oh I see.” What do I say to respond to that? “What were you working on?” Why is he still here?

“Honestly, I don’t know, I was just scribbling.”

“Had enough maths for the day?” He jokes.

“Had enough maths for the month.” You mumble, but then he laughs. A short laugh. But a laugh nonetheless. Isn’t he annoyed by you? Why is he still- “What would you be doin’ if Hank didn’t have you doing all this brain stuff?” Oh.

“Well uh, nothing probably.”

“Not one for hanging out with your friends?”

“Friends? Hah!” You laugh with sarcasm, then walk over to your discarded sweater, bending over to pick it up, deciding to distract yourself with cleaning. “It's not easy for a freak to make friends.” You mumble to yourself, hoping he wouldn’t hear, of course, he did.

“You’re not a freak.” He crosses his arms as you look over your shoulder at him.

“Yea sure. Everyone in the school would so easily disagree with you on that.” You say back, folding the sweater before tossing it into your dirty laundry basket. “Professor X won’t even let me leave the school because he doesn’t trust me. I’m sure you’re no different.” Shit that was supposed to be said in your head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You’d smack yourself right now if it wouldn’t make you look stupid, if he wasn’t in your room still.

“So you think everyone’s the same?” He asks, more of a statement.

“No I- I don’t mean it like that. I just-” He clears his throat.

“Come here.” He demands, looking into your fucking soul. So of course, with a gaze as threatening as his. You stand right in front of him after you walk up to him like Bambi in a traffic headlight. Wobbly, and frozen. “Good, now look at me.” Oh, you forgot that part.

You looked away from his shirt, and tilted your head back to look up into his eyes and for a man who’s so adept at killing his eyes were so soft, and broken…

“If you didn’t randomly blank out, you would’ve also heard Xavier when he told you the only time you could leave, is if it’s with someone else in case there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency from what? Me losing my temper?”

“Exactly that.” Is what shuts you up. “When I said I know how you’re feeling, I meant it.” His voice softens, and you feel your throat knot as you hold back embarrassing tears. “It wasn’t easy for me to make friends either, but honestly I prefer to be in a small crowd. Normally I’m not the one to comfort a student, but you just don’t seem to want to talk to anyone. Why’s that?”

“I’ve tried talking to people. They just give me a look and then walk away.”

“Does that actually happen? Or is that just what it feels like?”

Shit. You hate to admit it, but he makes a point.

What the fuck. Was your next thought as his hand moved up and he gently placed his hand on your cheek.

“I know you hate everyone at this school from the fucking bottom of your heart, but I’m gonna have you try to refrain from hating me. We can strike a deal by letting me take you out of the mansion. I’m sure you’d love to get out, can’t remember the last time you left.”

“Never have.” You whisper, shrugging your shoulders. Your voice is only quiet so your tears aren’t cascading down your face.

“Well if you can just promise to behave, and tell me when you’re getting stressed, then I’ll supervise you like Xavier wants.” He tells you, promising some sort of freedom. “I’m not saying I’m scared of you. If anyone is scared of what you can do, it’s you. Am I right?” You nod. “Use your words, bub.”

“Yea…” Your voice cracks as you barely mutter an entire word.

“Hey, hey…” He says softly, then he suddenly pulls you into a hug. “I’ve got you.” He gently rubs your back, which by the way is still bare since you never got to throw on another shirt. “Just cancel your plans with Hank, I can help you more than he ever will…”

He promises. His fingers gently run over the metal clasps on the back of your bra as you loosely wrap your arms around him, embracing his hug and you nod, not able to formulate any more words as you cry quietly against his chest, your tears wetting his shirt as you both stand there in silence. A quiet smirk on his face as he holds onto you…

[perksofbeingpoet]

☆ THE POETS AT THE AIRPORT ☆

CHARLIE: trying WAY too hard to be everyone's airport crush. has to be dragged out of the liquor section of the duty free shop ("but the vodka is so CHEAP"). plays a game of "trying to sneak as many metal objects past the security check as possible". when he gets a pat down he keeps wiggling his eyebrows and saying some variant of "wow no you're wayy too old for me" to the security guy (who's probably considering quitting his job). is secretly terrified of flying but tries not to let it show (grips neil's hand so hard it hurts when they take off)

TODD: literally a ball of pure anxiety in the beginning of it. SO scared he overpacked, he's constantly talking about what if his suitcase is too heavy and he has to empty it out and everyone in the queue will be watching him and GOD HE HATES AIRPORTS. calms down a bit after the security check (totally panics about what if he accidentally put a gun down his pants or something and doesn't remember), and then just chills in the perfume area of the duty free shop, trying all the scents. buys loads of snacks because you never know if the place you're going to has the good ones. tries not to think about the possibility of the plane crashing. likes watching the clouds.

NEIL: A literal kid. Is the one who ACTUALLY overpacked, and runs around with his suitcase (he'd totally sit down on it and ride it around if that was socially acceptable). spends like an hour in the shops and is suddenly convinced he needs to buy a lot of unnecessary stuff. BUT goes into airport dad mode as soon as he needs to, he has all the tickets and keeps reminding everyone of having their passports ready, he knows the gate number etc. takes the lead and gets them to the plane safely.

KNOX: has like an hour long "in case i die on the plane" video ready for chris, and they have a long phone call to say good bye (interrupted when charlie gets into a fight with a security guard - "c'mon dude, who's side are you on, the government?? like being a small little guy in power??" "Sir I'm going to repeat it one more time, I need you to take off that belt please."). if knox wasn't dating chris, he'd totally be looking at all the cute girls at the airport for like two seconds and trying to telepathically tell them they're cute (relatable, not gonna lie). Is so polite and charming to all the staff that it's on the verge of being funny, Pittsie teasing him about really being the perfect son in law. Honestly just a very chilled flyer, he has fun.

PITTS: has even more fun. has like an extra bag full of snacks that everyone makes fun of and then obviously wants some of later (pittsie gives them some because he's a bro, but they have to swear that he's the best and will get the front seat of every car they'll ride). TOTALLY has one of those inflatable neck cushions. the security guy comments on how tall he is mainly to make conversation, but pittsie is still proud of it (i think i mentioned my headcanons about pitts' relationships with his height? or did i never publish them?) and smiles for the next minute. reads the on-flight magazine. super excited at take off, he's like LET'S GOOOO while todd and charlie are on the verge of crying. freaks out about omg I forgot my passport (neil took it from him one second ago). fun facts about planes!!

MEEKS: the chillest. tries to calm todd down by telling him statistics and all that about the narrow chances of dying on a plane until charlie snaps and is like SHUT UP OH MY GOD ("'kay sir" 🫡😳). nerds out about planes with pittsie! has WAY too many tags on his bags in case they get lost. tells really bad airport puns that pittsie thinks are HILARIOUS. spends the wait by just sitting in a café and drinking way too much coffee. ONLY buys one teeny tiny little bag of m&ms and then eats like half of pittsies snacks. sits more comfortably than pitts because his legs are shorter and don't get cramped and DEFINITELY teases him about it like 'hmm i don't know what you mean, there's plenty of leg room!"

CAMERON: really excited for the flight, loves the whole experience. printed out everything twice just in case!! all his liquid items are in these little plastic bags that no one ever uses (or maybe y'all are just better than me). eats SO much beforehand to save money because the airport prices are ridiculous. runs to the gate like three times to check it hasn't been changed. has the craziest methods to keep his ears from popping.

[illvmii]

Home For The Weekend.

DBF!Miguel x FEM!Reader, NSFW!! READ WITH CAUTION!!

TAGS: DBF!Miguel, Nsfw, a little fluff ig, pining Miguel, I gave you good parents because you deserve it, oral (fem receiving), praise, p in v, unprotected (use protection gang), a little exhibisionism (people are in the house), Miguel is pretty soft in this one, LMK if I forgot anything

A/N: Because I had to swap accounts and all that, I decided to write smut as a sorry (cause I know that’s what most Miguel fans want LMFAO) so here you go!! It’s Dad’s best friend cause GODDD I love DBF Miguel lemme tell ya. Also not proof read (I’m really fucking tired rn I’ll proof read tmr probably)

You’ve been away from home for a good while at this point. Your college really wasn’t all that far away, but you’ve been so freaking busy it’s unbelievable. You called your parents at least three times a week, even at that point you were failing to do so. You were completely overwhelmed and it was awful.

But finally, finally you had a weekend where you were free. You didn’t have anything to do, so you decided to drive home and spend the weekend there. You knew your parents really missed you, so it was the best choice for all of you (plus you’d been killing to taste some of your moms cooking once again).

You had called your father to let him and your mom know you were coming, but were told a very interesting surprise. It was for sure a welcome one, though. Your father’s best bud, Miguel O’Hara, was staying with your parents for a week. Apparently the man’s house got termites which fucking blew chunks for him. But for you… well, aren’t you just lucky?

That man is HOT! We all know it, he’s absolutely stunning. So when you figured you’d be in the same house as him for a whole weekend, your entire stay seemed to get much more interesting.

Of course it was a ‘Look don’t touch’ scenario, you couldn’t even imagine the hell that would let loose if you made a hit on your dad’s best friend. You knew your father and Miguel were super close, they have been since you were a little girl. Miguel and your pops met when you were in third grade, because you were on your schools little soccer team. Miguel was the coach, since his own daughter Gabriella was on it.

You and Gabi actually became pretty good friends, still are to this day. She’s fun to be around and you text her whenever you have the chance. Of course she doesn’t know about the absolutely disgusting thoughts you have about her father on the lonelier nights. You think nobody but you really needs to know those. God forbid if your dad found out.

You haven’t seen Miguel in… what was it? Nearly three years at this point. He didn’t come around the house much after you turned 19 for some reason. Your dad and him always hung out at bars and such. So you haven’t seen him in a long time. The barbecues Miguel always had once a month were strangely on days you had told your dad you weren’t available, either. It’s very strange. You never have had the best of luck with men, so you just assume god is playing a cruel trick on you.

You eventually pulled into your childhood home driveway, the second you entered your mom pulls you to the side and presses kisses all over your face.

“Oh my gosh! It feels I haven’t seen my baby girl in ages! How have you been, honey?!”

Pressing a kiss to her cheek, you smile, “Been good. Busy, as I’ve said on our calls. But finally got some free time!”

Your mother grinned and pulled you into a hug, “I’m so glad your home, sweetheart. The house just isn’t the same without you here.”

“Dad already getting on your nerves, huh?” You snicker, hugging her back tightly.

Your mom chuckles and shakes her head, “He’s still the same ol’ grump. You should have heard him and Miguel when the soccer game was on… my goodness I was worried we were going to get a noise complaint.”

“Are they really that bad? Geez. I know Dad is bad, can’t imagine two of them.”

Your mother chuckles, “Your father is in the living room. Go say hi, hes been waiting for you all day.”

You give her a nod and walk off to the living room to greet your dad. He’s on the couch, so you plop down next to him. “Hey, Dad. How’s it hanging?”

He turns to look at you and bumps your shoulder with his, “There you are, squirt. Where you been for so long, huh? Outgrown us regular people now you’re a big shot at college?”

You smirk at his tease, “Don’t worry. I won’t forget about you. Least not yet.”

He flicks your forehead, chuckling to himself.

“Miguel is out in the pool. You should go say hi.”

Your face immediately heats up. He’s in the god damn pool?! With probably little shorts? Oh god…

You nod and stand from the couch and make your way to the pool. You slide the glass door to the patio open and dear god.

You see Miguel, hes swimming laps in the big pool. As long as you’ve known him, he’s worked out a bunch. No wonder he’s so fucking buff.

Stepping down into the patio area, you send him a wave, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara?”

He pauses his swimming and looks up at you. He flashes a smile, “My god, that you, pequeña?”

Miguel shakes his head to get the excess water out, swimming too the stairs of the pool to get out. You see now that yes, he is in little swim trunks.

He grabs his towel to wipe his extremely chiseled chest down. He smiles at you as he does, “How have you been, chica? I haven’t seen you for a while. Your dad sends me photos of you sometimes, but they really didn’t show off how much you’ve grown.”

You blush as he runs his eyes over you to really take in your growth. “I’ve been okay. College is keeping me busy. How about you? I’ve heard your house has termites.”

Miguel let’s out a loud groan, “Mhm. I could hear them in the walls at night, it was hell. At least they’re getting taken care of now, ‘Eh?”

“Yeah. I could imagine that would be hell,” You add on, not helping the conversation at all. You really couldn’t focus on conversing well. The man who has plagued your mind since you hit puberty is standing right in front of you, wet and in tiny shorts.

Miguel fully dries himself off, “I’ll go in and change, alright? Then we can talk some more.”

He walks off and you follow behind. You sit next to your dad in the living room and patiently (not at all patiently) wait for ‘Mr. O’Hara’.

Miguel walks into the living room wearing some loose shorts and a white t-shirt. He sits on a free chair and looks to your dad, “Man, look how big your girl is now! Can’t even believe it. Can’t believe how big my Gabi is, either.”

Your dad chuckles and groans, “I know, right? Time really flies when you get old.”

Miguel shoots you a smile, “I’m not that old, am I, cariño?”

You shake your head quickly, “Of course not.”

Your father chuckles, “You don’t gotta lie to Miguel, honey! Let him have it.”

Miguel leans forward to smack your father’s shoulder, “Ay! You aren’t young yourself.”

Your father and Miguel banter back and forth for a bit, before the soccer game starts out. They shut up immediately to watch, though once the plays start happening they shout at the TV like mad men. You chuckle whenever they do. It brought back memories of you and Gabriella having a play date and hearing them go nuts over the match in the other room.

After the match, it was dinner time, and holy fuck did it smell good. Your mother knew how to cook man, let me tell you.

You were sat in between your mom and Miguel. Your dad and the hunk were talking about the game, while your mother asked you questions about how college was going. You told her all about it, from the gossip to how the vending machine in the lobby stopped working again, which pissed you off to no end.

While you were talking and ranting about “those damn machines”, you felt a thigh press against yours. You glance down, seeing it was Miguel’s. Strange, because you didn’t remember his chair being this close. You shrug it off and keep talking to your mom.

After dinner you were stuffed, so you head up to your bedroom for the night. You were currently sitting on your old bed, snuggled up all nice and cozy while watching some YouTube. That was until the door creaked open. You figured your mom had done your laundry like the lovely lady she is, but indeed it was Miguel.

He stepped into the room with a soft smile, closing the door behind him, “Hey, pequeña.”

You sit up immediately at the sight of him, plucking your earbuds from your ears, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara. What do you need?”

Miguel sits himself on the edge of the bed, “You can just call me Miguel, sweetheart. Mr. O’Hara makes me feel ancient.”

“Alright, Miguel.” You smile, which makes him chuckle. He looks up at you and speaks;

“We haven’t had much time to speak one on one. I just wanted to catch up with you, hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You tilt your head endearingly, “Yeah, it has been a while. College has kept me from coming home, plus you and dad don’t hang out around the house as much as you used to.”

Miguel’s face actually pinks a little at the statement, to your bewilderment. He scratches his head, “Yeah. Just gettin’ out on the town as you kids say makes us feel young, I guess.”

Cuddling your blankets a bit closer to you, you grin at him, “You really aren’t that old. You had Gabriella decently young, right?”

“I guess so,” He shrugs, “It feels like forever ago, yet also yesterday. Can’t believe my flor pequeña is in college now.”

You nod, “Oh yeah, I can’t believe we’re in college either. Gabriella texts me all about her college days. She rants about her boyfriend constantly, she seems to really like him.”

Miguel groans, “Don’t even get me started on that boy. He is not worth my daughter, not even a little.”

You giggle at his protective nature. You’re positive that no matter who Gabriella dates, Miguel will never deem them as good enough for his daughter.

Miguel looks into your eyes, “So, you got a boyfriend, niña?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t really met the right person,” Which was a total lie, by the way. You’ve gone on dates and met super nice guys, but in your head you constantly compared them to your first crush ever, Miguel. They never shaped up, so it never went anywhere.

His eyes widen, “Really? You’re so beautiful now, I’d figure you’d have tons of boys chasing you.”

The statement makes you blush fiercely, “Ah, no.”

Miguel lets out a thoughtful sigh, “You really have grown into a lovely young woman, you know.”

You blush even harder, “Thank you, Mr. O’Hara.”

He places a hand on yours with a chuckle, “I told you, it’s Miguel.”

“Right. Sorry. Sorry,” You take some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Miguel sees this and smiles.

“Why so flustered, cariño? Is it because I called you beautiful?”

You end up covering your face to hide said blush from him. Geez, your heart could not take this right now. You were dressed in some baggy Spider-Man pajamas, yet he is calling you beautiful?

“I-I’m not…”

You can’t believe you’re stuttering. The things this man does to you is insane.

Miguel reached a hand forward to take your hands away from your face. He doesn’t remove it, though. He rests it on your cheek.

“Do you want to know why I stopped coming around your house?”

You nod, staring into his chocolate brown eyes.

“It’s because of your 19th birthday. Do you remember it?”

You think back to those years ago. It was a pretty fun party. You got a bunch of friends and family over and swam in your pool. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but just a fun time.

“Yeah. What about it? Did I do something?”

He chuckles and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, “Nah. It’s just me. You… that day, do you remember what your swimsuit looked like?”

You think back again and blush. Not one of your smartest moments, buying a white swimsuit. It looked cute online, the thought of that it was supposed to go in water and get wet not really cementing itself in your head.

“Yeah…”

He nods and chuckles, “I saw you step out of the pool, and rushed over with a towel to cover you up. Remember? Sure, it was because I didn’t want you to expose yourself like that. However, I had a selfish reason.”

You look up and tilt your head a little.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see that part of you.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow.

He smirks, “I was confused by the thought, too. I left right after the party and went to my house. I figured I’d stop having such strange thoughts after a day… but amor, I haven’t stopped thinking about you once.”

Your eyes widen, “Wh- Huh?”

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t think you understand. You grew into this woman who I admire, not just for your looks. You’re wonderful, absolutely wonderful. You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, you’re funny, you’re perfect. I can’t get you out of my damn head.”

You can’t manage to speak at this point. You stare up at the man in shock as he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“Please, let me kiss you, niña,” He basically begs, his eyes look full of desperation, “I’ve wanted to do it for years.”

You manage a tiny nod, so he rushes forward to kiss your lips. He holds you very close against him and kisses you hard. He lets out a groan at the contact. His tongue prods at your lips after a while and who are you to refuse such a man? You let him in, letting out a little groan of your own when he explores you.

After what felt like too short, you have to pull away to catch your breath. He doesn’t stop being on you, though. When you pant, he moves to kiss your jaw and neck.

You let out a little groan, “M-Miguel…”

“No good?” He speaks between kisses, “I’ve wanted to touch you for years, you don’t understand…”

You let out a little whimper, a god damn whimper.

“Please, let me touch you. Fuck, please,” He begs again. You manage a small nod once again. He dives back in to keep kissing your neck.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands move downwards towards your shirt. He tugs it over your head and moans. His hands immediately reach down to squeeze your tits, and you have to cover your mouth to keep your moans in.

He mumbles out a soft “Fuck…” when he uses his thumbs to glide over your nipples. After a few seconds, he leans down to press kisses all over your soft breasts. He still uses his hands to softly prod at them.

You let out a low whine and he looks up at you, “Be quiet, my girl. Can’t have anyone hearing you.”

You nod and keep covering your mouth as he leans down to keep pressing soft kisses to your chest. After a few moments, he tugs at your bottoms and looks up at you. You nod embarrassingly, and he takes them and your underpants off in one fell swoop.

You hear him audibly choke a breath, which makes you blush more. He manhandles you so your thighs rest on his shoulders, and just goes to town.

You let out a loud yelp when his tongue presses against your clit, so he reaches down and puts his fingers in your mouth to silence you. He keeps his mouth going, sucking on the bud to bring you pleasure.

Miguel pulls back with a long breath, “Tastes so good…”

You whimper against his fingers when he leans down to insert his tongue in you. You cry out as he holds nothing back, forcefully having his way with you.

His one hand that isn’t in your mouth is softly caressing your thigh, which is driving you crazy in its own right. It feels like everywhere he touches you is pure heaven.

Though that one hand leaves after a moment, instead he moves to insert a finger in you. You clamp down on his fingers, which makes him chuckle.

“Feel that good?”

Against his hand, you mumble, “Fingers so thick…”

He smirks and curls his index finger, making your hips buck up and you let out another whine. He can softly hear you beg for more.

He complies, of course. Hes waited for this for years, no way he won’t give his girl everything she wants.

He inserts another finger, moving them around a little until he eventually finds your most sensitive spot. He presses the pad of his fingers up against it suddenly, making you jerk and squirm around.

His mouth dives back down to suck on your clit, which drives you absolutely insane. His fingers in both your mouth and inside you, as well as his skilled mouth was far too much for one woman to handle.

Miguel looks over at one of the thighs placed on his shoulder, seeing it shiver and shake. He breaks away briefly, “Are you close already, amor? You’re so sensitive for me. Have you been wanting my touch too?”

You nod frantically when he lowers his head to your clit again. You cry out, “Uh-Huh! Y-You were my first crush!” Your words were mumbled against his fingers, but he understood them just fine.

He sucks on your clit hard and curls his fingers at the same time, which causes you to let out a moan and your thighs shake more. He breaks away,

“Look at me when you come. Look into my eyes as I make you come. You understand?”

You nod and keep eye contact with him as he inserts a third finger, pressing over and over to your g-spot. He uses his tongue to swirl around your inflated bud at the same time.

His gaze, his mouth, his fingers, it was all far too much. After one harsh suck, you came with a muffled shout.

Miguel drank it all up immediately, seemingly absolutely satisfied to be covered in your juices.

He lets you catch your breath and removes his fingers from your mouth. He also lowers your hips back to the bed, being delicate as he does so he doesn’t hurt you. You were panting very harshly, still coming down from your high.

Everything was a bit fuzzy at the moment. Though you refocused a few seconds later- holy shit.

His shorts have been discarded, along with his shirt. He was naked just as you were, and god damn was he big.

He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, “You think you can go again? Can you take me, pretty girl?”

You try and speak only to realize that you, in fact, can’t. You settle for a thumbs up, which just makes him laugh softly.

He gives you a few more seconds before aligning himself up with your pretty pussy, pushing himself in agonizingly slow.

You let out another moan, so he quickly puts his fingers in your mouth again to keep you quiet. He really, really did not need your parents who were down in the living room to hear this.

He kept pushing himself in, holding his own groans back. He’d used his hand and imagined how you’d feel in the past, but it was nothing like this. This was perfect.

Once he was in as far as he could go, he stopped and let you get comfortable. Of course it was a battle for him, he was fighting his primal instincts to just take your hard and fast.

You keep letting out the most adorable little whimpers, which even though he’s currently fucking you, make Miguel’s heart melt.

You hum against his fingers, “Ready…”

He nods and begins to move very slowly. He focuses on your face as he watches it contort and squeeze with his movements. You were so pretty when you were experiencing such pleasure, he thought.

He whispers, “Good job, pequeña. Such a good girl for me.”

The praise makes you bite down on his fingers a little. Your hands travel upwards to scratch on his back, too. It was taking all your willpower to not be loud.

He moves a little faster, leaning down to kiss you as he does. He keeps mumbling “My pretty girl” And “So perfect, just for me” as he increases his speed.

He knows he isn’t going to last long. He’s been dreaming about you for years at this point.

He begins to sweat as his hips snap against yours. His free hand moves down to rub on your already abused clit. You grunt on his fingers, pursing your lips against them.

“You gonna come for me again, amor? Come on my cock. Can you do that for me?” He speaks very softly. Both to keep it down, but to also be intimate with you.

You breathe heavily as you feel him pound into you. You can feel tears brimming at your eyes from the sensation.

He licks his thumb and places it back down on your clit, rubbing circles over and over again. At the same time, his hips were slamming against yours. Soon enough, you reached a second orgasm. He let out a moan that was nearly too loud when you did. The sensation was his end, because a few thrusts later he pulled out and came on your stomach.

You and him sat there, panting like you’d just ran a damn marathon. Though after a few minutes, Miguel stands and walks over to your nightstand to get the wipes there. He begins to wipe you of his cum and your sweat, cleaning you off so you can sleep comfortably.

You were so fucking exhausted it was insane. You could barely register as he carefully slid your pajamas back onto you, then changed back into his own clothes.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “If I could sleep in here, I would.”

“Mhm…” You mumble, a little upset he wouldn’t be cuddling you to sleep. But you obviously understood his reasoning.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips,

“Let’s do this again sometime, pequeña.”

Hope you enjoyed you rabid Miguel fans!! Feedback is always welcome. I used spanishdict so please correct any mistakes you see. Reqs open too!!

This was my first time posting anything NSFW on any site ever so I’m sorry if it’s bad LOL

Don’t repost or claim as or own and all that stuff please!! ❤️❤️

[quodekash]

for the first half of this i thought you were talking about gun’s mum and i was thoroughly confused cos i didn’t know how anyone could possibly ever see her as a villain

but IT MAKES SENSE NOW

anyway i wholeheartedly agree. she’s a flipping human being who cares for her son and wants him to have the best life he can, with whatever she can provide. and to her, that means he shouldn’t be around the music club. cos the music club don’t have a great reputation and often don’t get good grades, and a lot of the time, in the minds of adults (and particular teachers), bad grades = bad student = bad person. (which, lil disclaimer, none of that is true, a lot of people weren’t designed to do well in school / the subjects provided at school, but we kinda just have to deal with that cos it’s kind of a fact of life in most cases, which sucks)

but all tinn’s mum wants is for her kid to be happy but also for him to not get mixed up with the wrong crowd. and from a teacher’s pov (and, even more so, a principal’s perspective, who is directly affected by the students’ choices to represent the school she essentially runs), the music club aren’t good people or good students, aren’t responsible or helpful or kind. she’s never been part of their group. has never seen the compassion they have for one another. has never understood just how close and tight-knit their group is and how they’d do anything for each other. and not knowing all that is absolutely NOT her fault, because she’s a teacher, and teachers often can’t develop deep and personal relationships with students for a number of reasons (eg students finding teachers cringe, students seeing teachers as beings that are born and die at school and whose only personality is teaching, an outside perspective thinking the relationship is more than teacher-student and authorities being called, and so on.

what i love about this show is there isn’t a set “villain”. there’s no almighty power trying to obstruct the main characters from achieving their goals. sure, photjanee defies them a bit in the beginning. but that was her trying to do what was best for the school, to improve life at the school overall, not just for that year, but for future years to come. and, over time, she realises the music club has talent. they’re regaining the reputation they lost because of the people in yak’s year, and they deserve to be there and to do the things they love. and although she still doesn’t see just how great these kids actually are, they’re still students at her school, which means she has to care for them and help them when they need it, and to at least listen to them when they request something. she can’t, and doesn’t, outright hate the club.

pls ignore all the errors and stuff on this and be able to understand what i'm trying to say and get the idea

sometimes i read some stuff about msp (on twitter) and i think people are not watching the same show i'm watching because they make it clear to us that tinn's mom doesn't like the music club (she calls them troublemakers, and students who are not well behaved, i think that's clue enough) and she had her reasons, i would too not like the club that makes the school have a bad impression (the hot wave is not a small competition, you as a student should have some respect and try not to make a "scene" like yak did last year) and the competition (probably the producers) charged them (the school) for this, and she said she doesn't want to trouble them but they need to pay the charge, it's just that i also wouldn't trust the club in general after what happened

but i think she knows that all are good boys, but she might not like them, but that doesn't mean she will deliberately treat them badly, and i also, after all the history of the music club, i wouldn't want my son to hang out with them either

but i think people are trying to make her a villain when she's not, they make the favor of give her reasonable things to make her not trusting or liking the club, it's not out of nowhere and they also make us see she's sweet with tinn (as an example), and she's is more that just the principal of the school, she's a mother and she's a wife, humanizing her like that is so cool to see, it's so good because she's not a villain, it makes her a human being too

i hope they don't make her change her behavior out of the blue, and i hope she accepts tinn and gun's relationship (i think the most she'll do is tell gun to watch out for tinn or something)

and it's not like they were trying to make her the villain, but they're trying to make her dirty you know

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[samgirl98]

Forgotten Demon Twin 8/?

Prev | Next

Damian knew Richard was following him, but he was too lost in thought to get angry about it. His older brother was going to do what he wanted, anyway.

They ended up downtown. Damian stopped in front of a store. Damian put his hands on the glass, looking at the Phantom memorabilia. A little Phantom plush caught his attention. The plush didn’t have feet; instead, it had a wispy tail. Its eyes were a Lazarus green, and it had snow-white hair. It was mocking him.

“Are you going to buy it?”

Damian didn’t get startled; it was beneath him, but his brother’s voice suddenly speaking to him almost surprised him. He scowled instead.

“I don’t need such a childish thing,” he answered.

“Hmm, well, I want that one,” Richard said while pointing to a stuffed figure of a posing Phantom. Both of its fists were in the air, and he had on a white cape.

Damian followed Richard into the store with crossed arms and a disapproving scowl. The inside of the store was full of Phantom and ghost merchandise. Damian passed a bunch of generic ghost plushies. They were all Lazarus green. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but the fact that Amity Park was saturated with that color freaked him out a little

Next, he passed a section named ‘The Villains of Phantoms.’ He thought that was stupid. Why would anyone want to glorify the villains? Then he remembered Batburger and their Jokerized fries. He saw action figures and stuffed toys of a woman in a red and black suit with a grey and pink gun on a board. The Red Huntress, he presumed.

“Found anything you want, Little D?”

Richard was holding the same plushie he had pointed out earlier. Damian knew his older brother wouldn’t leave him alone until he got a toy, so he picked the one that had caught his attention earlier.

They went to pay. The cashier was a bored-looking goth teenager with more piercings than fucks to give, in Damian’s opinion. His name tag read Spike. He didn’t even greet them. Spike rang them up, put their toys in a bag haphazardly, and basically threw it at them.

Damian gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t yell at the insolent teenager.

Spike’s attitude didn’t seem to bother Richard.

“I’m hungry. Wanna go eat?”

Damian didn’t have a chance to answer. Richard got him by the arm and pulled him toward a fast-food joint named ‘Nasty Burger.’ Naming an eating establishment like that seemed like a bad business decision.

The chatter hit him the moment they entered. It was full of teenagers and smelt like grease and sweat. Richard happily approached the counter, and Damian followed his brother with a deep scowl. He just wanted to be left alone with thoughts, dammit, but it seemed his older brother wouldn’t allow him to think in peace.

The cashier was another teenager. She was dark-skinned with curly hair and teal-colored eyes. When she spotted Damian, she looked him up and down in surprise. A part of him felt like she was sizing him up. When her sight landed on his eyes, she got a bit tense.

“Welcome to Nasty Burger. May I take your order?”

Damian looked at the menu and was surprised to see vegetarian options.

“The veggie burger, meal, with a coke,” he said curtly. He might as well since Richard had dragged him here.

“Hello, sorry about my little brother,” Damian’s scowl deepened, “May I have a number one, large, and extra Nasty sauce, please, and thank you?”

“Sure, that’ll be $16.97.”

“Valerie, the sauce is overheating again; I forgot how to cool it down,” a voice cracked from the back.

Valerie scowled and muttered under her breath about incompetence.

“Give me a sec, I’m with customers,” she yelled back, “I’m sorry about that. Here’s your change. We’ll call your number when it’s done.”

Damian followed Richard a bit farther away. Damian was rarely distracted but still thinking about Danyal, so he didn’t notice the big, blond buffoon when they crashed.

“Watch where you’re going, Fenturd!”

The blond threw a punch. Damian got the other boy’s fist, and judo-flipped him over his shoulder. He landed on his back with a thud. The place got quiet.

“Holy shit, did Fenton just beat Dash?”

“No, way, puny freaky Fenton stood up for himself.”

Damian scowled. It seemed the imbecile liked picking on Danyal, and Danyal let him. What was his brother thinking?

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. My brother Damian is a bit panicky and tends to fall heavily on the ‘fight’ side of ‘fight or flight.’ Are you okay,” Richard came to do damage control while helping the other boy, Dash, up. He still seemed a bit dazed.

“Who’s Damian?”

“I am, you imbecile.”

The boy squinted at Damian before his eyes widened, “You’re not Fenturd.”

“Give the man a prize. He can see.”

Dash went up to Damian’s face.

“Listen here, you little turd—”

Damian didn’t feel like listening to the other boy, so he kicked him.

“Damian, stop that!”

Richard pulled Damian to the corner of the diner and sat by Damian so he wouldn’t leave.

“Why’d you stop me? It’s obvious he picks on Danyal!”

“We don’t go after civilians, Dami.”

“Tt.”

“Number 19,” the cashier, Valerie, yelled out.

“Behave,” Richard said while giving him a stern look.

The door to the diner opened, and Damian automatically looked up. His breath caught in his throat. It was Danyal.

He was with a goth girl and a dark-skinned boy wearing a red beret. Samantha Manson and Tucker Foley. His brother was smiling and laughing. Richard came back with their food.

“That’s him,” he asked.

Damian could only nod while observing his twin.

Danyal had deep bags around his eyes. He was scrawnier than Damian, and he walked with a hunch. Almost as if he wanted to disappear. Looking back on his memories, Danyal always walked like that. It made sense, he supposed. Why would he want to draw attention to himself if it had always been negative?

“He looks like a mini-Bruce.”

The girl said something, and Danyal’s smile grew bigger. There were crinkles around his eyes.

They went to the counter, and Valerie told them something before pointing toward their table. Danyal looked up and saw both of them sitting. Damn, now what?

____

Bruce was going to be sick.

Reading the Anti-Ecto Act laws pissed him off. How had he and the Justice League not noticed government-sanctioned genocide? Worse, they were targeting his son.

“Tim, find any information you can and put it in a file. I’m going to contact the Justice League. We have to fix this.”

He took out his phone and dialed a number he hated having to call.

“What do you want, Batsy? I’m busy here.”

“Constantine, I need your help.”

@itsberrydreemurstuff @youracearocroatneighbour @imsotiredfanficlovertm @nek0mancer

[fuckinthewholetown]

Fallingforyou - Matty Healy Chapter One

I’m kind of shitting myself posting this but, it is what it is. If you think it’s shit, feel free to tell me, but please be nice or I will cry. I’ve also only skimmed over this so if there’s any typos, please tell me so I can fix this.

Tags: Slight angst, swearing, mentions of religion, gay, probably bad writing

Word Count: 2309

As much as you love touring, you’re the first person to admit it can get repetitive. Wake up in a random hotel room, get to the venue, sound check, perform, and repeat.

However, today is different. Today you’re performing a sold out show at Wembley Stadium to 90,000 people. This is the day you’ve dreamt about since you were five, giving one woman performances to your parents in your living room. And the cherry on top is you get to do it with four of your best mates.

Your day starts off as normal, doing your skincare routine in a hotel bathroom in the heart of London. You’re living the dream. That is until you hear a knock at your door. As you’re walking over to answer it, you pull your hair out of the makeshift pony tail it was in previously. Before you could fully open the door, it barges open and your guitarist and best friend Maddie O’Connell storms into the room.

“We need to talk.” She says, pacing back and forth.

“Ok, calm down. There’s absolutely no reason to be this stressed. Take a crystal.” You say, pulling some green agate out of your bra. You’re met with no response, just a deadpan stare. “Noted, not in a crystals mood. What’s up, this is the best day of our careers, it must be something big to get you this stressed.”

“You have to look me in the eye and promise that you’re not going to freak out” She says, sitting down on a seat in the corner of the room.

“I promise. Unless you’re shagging Matty Healy or Harry Styles, then I revoke that promise”

“Not exactly… It’s Ross” She says, refusing to look you in the eye. You stay silent, internally freaking out but refusing to break the promise you made to her. She takes this as you not understanding what she’s on about “Ross Macdonald… The bassist of the”

“Yes, I know who you’re on about!” You say, cutting her off before she can say anything else and send you into even more of a mental breakdown. You stand up, now it’s your turn to pace the room. “You’re fucking the bassist of my favourite band and you just conveniently don’t tell me until 5 hours before the biggest show of our careers? I love you to death, but you need to get better timing babes”

“I know,” she says, still refusing to make eye contact with you, “and we’re not fucking. Well, we are but it’s more than that. I like him, and I think he likes me.”

“How long?”

“Six months…”

“Six months!” This information is enough to stop you in your tracks, “you’ve been shagging the human equivalent of Jesus for 6 months and you forgot to mention it!”

“I’m sorry! I knew you’d freak out because you’re a big fan and I wanted to make sure it was serious before I got your hopes up. However, I’ve kinda been forced into telling you.”

You sit back down, confused over her last statement. “What do you mean forced into telling me? If one of the girls is secretly a bitch and forcing you into this, we can become a group of four. I’m a big boy, I can sing and play an instrument at the same time.” That half joke is enough to make her finally make eye contact with you.

“It’s nothing like that, the girls don’t know yet you’re the first person I told. I’ve been forced into telling you because they’re coming tonight, all four of them are watching the show.” And that statement is the straw that broke the camels back, you’re officially freaking out.

“What? They’re watching us tonight? All four of them are watching us? Oh god, I have to look Matty Healy in the eyes knowing I’ve read the dirtiest tumblr fanfiction about him. I read one of him as a priest, oh god I’m going to hell!” You say, putting your head into your hands. Maddie on the other hand does not see the seriousness of this situation and bursts out laughing.

“Him as a priest? Didn’t strike you as the religious type.” A chuckle escapes your lips as you finally return the eye contact.

“I went to an all girls catholic school actually, I love Jesus.”

“You came out of that school with minor alcoholism and even more gay than you were when you went in, I think Jesus would be disappointed.” She quips back. You laugh, standing back up from your slight mental breakdown.

“I’m happy for you, I really am. When are they getting here?”

“Just before sound check.”

“Before sound check?” You respond, falling back into your mental breakdown. “That’s in less than an hour. I’m meeting my celebrity crush and your new fuck buddy in less than an hour? Get the fuck out, I need to do a full face in 20 minutes!”

You all but push her out the hotel room, scrambling to get ready for the biggest moment of your life.

After somehow managing to do your hair, makeup, and put on a hot ass outfit in under an hour, you walked into the green room at Wembley Stadium. What met your eyes was what could best be described as a sight out of 16 year olds you’s wet dream. All four members of The 1975 sat around the table, gossiping about who knows what. As you walk in, the room goes silent. Luckily, your bandmates are there to quell the awkwardness. The pianist of your band, Sienna Turner is the first to speak.

“Boys,” She says, standing up and dragging you by the forearm into the circle, “this is Y/N!” You were expecting to be met with blank stares, but instead the boys jump up to greet you, tackling you into bear hugs. It’s a warm welcome off everyone. Well, mostly everyone. The man you’ve loved since you were a teenager stays sat in the corner of the room, closed off and refusing to even acknowledge your existence. You figure it’s probably just him being an introvert, so you go over to introduce yourself personally.

��Hey.” You say, hoping for any kind of response. You don’t get one. No acknowledgement, no hey back, not even a snarky comment, he just ignores you. This is not how you imagined this day would go.

“Damn,” you follow up, “I knew you’re an Aries, but I didn’t think you’d act so much like one.” You let out a slight chuckle. He, on the other hand, does not find this so funny.

“Good God.” He responds, rolling his eyes and taking another sip of his drink.

He hates you. The man you’ve been enamored by for almost 10 years despises you. The only possible explanation is he’s seen your private TikTok reposts of endless thirst traps of himself. Nevertheless, you had a show to do. And if there’s on thing you can do despite external feelings, it’s fucking shit up on stage. You nail sound check, sounding better than you ever have. Probably a mix of adrenaline and frustration over the fact that your childhood crush seemingly hates you for absolutely no reason.

You exit stage after sound check, immediately going back to the green room to get ready for the actual show. As you’re getting your makeup and hair done, conversation flows. You and your friends are talking to the boys as if you’ve been friends for years and you didn’t just meet them an hour ago.

“So, Y/N. You’re into like crystals and shit aren’t you? What’s that like, I don’t really get it.” George says, turning all eyes on you.

“It’s not for everyone, but I find comfort in manifestation and things like that. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think incense will cure cancer but keeping rose quartz in my bra definitely isn’t going to hinder my love life.” You laugh, trying to keep your response brief.

“Bullshit.” Comes from the corner of the room. The first words you’ve heard from Matty since your brief conversation earlier in the day. The room falls silent and you feel a red hue cover your face. The longer the silence, the thicker the tension in the air. You clear your throat, trying to restrain yourself from going over to him and giving him a black eye.

“Like I said, it isn’t for everyone. I was cleansing my room once and my mum thought I was smoking weed. When I told her what I was doing, I think she’d have preferred if I was doing drugs.” Everyone starts laughing and the room erupts into conversation again as if nothing happened. Every so often, you catch a glimpse of Matty in the corner of your eye. He never seems to move, his phone in one hand and a beer in the other. As you zone out of the conversation, your mind moves to deciphering why on Earth he could hate you so much. Nothing comes to mind, you’ve never met him before and you’ve definitely said nothing bad about him publically. Quite the opposite in fact, as last year a drunk video of you singing Robbers went viral on TikTok.

You zoned out for so long, before you knew it it was time to go on stage and perform the biggest show of your life.

“Ok girlies!” Ava Fletcher, the drummer in your band and also the member you’ve known the longest, speaks up. “This is it. No pressure but there’s 90 thousand people out there who’ve come specifically to watch us, so if we put on a shit performance our careers are probably over. But absolutely no pressure, just have a good show.” You laugh, leaning into the group hug you do before every show however this one felt different. The sense of adrenaline and fear within the group was unlike anything before. There was a lot riding on this show, and if you fucked it up a lot of people would be disappointed. However, all of these feelings are washed away when you’re wrapped into a hug by George.

“Blow their fucking minds out their.” He whispers into your ear. All feelings of nervousness are washed away when you realise you’re being hugged by the drummer of your favourite band. You go around, being given motivational speeches by every member of the band. Well, almost every member other than, you guessed it, Matty. He encouraged every member of your band except you, walking off before you could get to him.

The beginning of every show is always the worst. Hearing the roaring crowds increases your heart rate tenfold, but the stakes are even higher for this show. With one last group hug, you put your in ears in and run on stage, ready to start the show. As the show goes on, you occasionally glance side of stage to where the boys are standing. Everytime you make eye contact with them, they give you an encouraging smile or thumbs up. Matty on the other hand continues to evade eye contact, choosing to watch a different member of the band. However that didn’t stop you from putting on one hell of a show, and that’s what you did. You blew the metaphorical roof of that stadium, it was arguably the best show you ever did. The adrenaline high you had once you ran off stage couldn’t be ruined, even by a moody former celebrity crush.

The moment you exit stage, you’re immediately crushed by a massive group hug involving your band and the boys. Despite all of this, the only thing you can focus on is the hand around your waist. It’s Matty. You don’t think he meant it, instinctively putting it there when he was dragged into the hug. Nonetheless the area he was holding felt like it was burning under his touch, his calloused hands leaving marks on the skin underneath them. The group hug is cut short when he pulls away, clearing his throat slightly and going back to cradling his drink.

You do the rounds, talking to everyone backstage and discussing the nuances of the show and how amazing the audience were. This repetitive conversation continues until you get back around to him. You expect to be met with no eye contact, maybe an eye roll if you were lucky, but what happens next surprises you.

“You did alright out there, Princess.” The confusion on your face is palpable, at both the nickname and his sudden talkative nature. “Princess, like Princess Kida from The Lost City of Atlantis. It’s funny because,” you cut him off.

“Our band name is Lost Atlantis, yeah I get it. It’s funny.” You respond, a dead pan expression on your face. The tension was obvious, you could cut it with a knife. That is until Moon Dixon, your bassist, comes up behind you and wraps you in a hug.

“We’re all going back to Maddie's place to have a few drinks, you joining us?” She says, mostly to you but including Matty in the conversation as well.

“Yeah, let me get into something less sweaty and gross first though.” You laugh, trying to hide your disappointment as he walks off to join the rest of his band.

Get over yourself, you thought to yourself as you walked back up to your dressing room. Just because Mattys a dick doesn’t take away from the fact that this is the best day of your life. You just performed your biggest show ever, and three out of the four members are lovely. But despite this, you can’t get the curly haired man out of your mind. You see him every time you blink. How have you gone from badass pop girlie to pathetic simp in the space of three hours?

Chapter Two

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Err on The Side of Awesome

(Not my gif)

Kol Mikaelson's Daughter Headcanons

Requested by: @katherinereilly19

Here lies my Masterlist

You were adopted by Kol and Davina Claire-Mikaelson at age six from a Catholic orphanage run by nuns who all thought you were some sort of demon child.

See, like your adopted father, you were a witch and had come into your power rather early. Davina had been sensing some odd power flares in the area and, when she and Kol had gone to investigate, there you were - a sweet, little bundle of mischief with more power than you knew what to do with.

To say that you had Kol wrapped around your little finger from the first second he saw you would be no exaggeration. Seriously. 

Kol had never thought himself fit to be a husband, let alone a parent. It still baffles him some days that Davina agreed to marry him - most days in fact - it just seemed too good to be true. They traveled the world for a while and then… Well, Davina, she…

She said she wanted kids.

She didn't say that she used to want kids or that she would have wanted them had she married someone else. Davina said she wanted to be a mom. With him. She said she wanted to have a kid with him and she wanted Kol to be that kid's dad.

At first, he almost thought it was a joke. Who in their right mind would trust him with a child? But no, Davina was serious. 

And it terrified him.

Kol is well aware of just how miserably his parents screwed up their job and he's pretty sure he couldn't do any worse but that doesn't mean he'd do well.

But the guy took just one look at you and he knew without a doubt that there was no alternative realm, no obscure future, and no minuscule probability in which he could cause you any harm.

For the first little while, you were convinced (thanks to the nuns) that you would have to be an absolute angel of a child in order to be wanted by your new parents. You helped clean things, refrain from using your magic, made your bed, brushed your teeth, and never asked for anything.

Three months in, you dropped a plate and broke down crying, begging Mr. and Mrs. Claire-Mikaelson (because you wouldn't dare call them mom and dad) not to send you back.

What began as your average Tuesday afternoon turned into a deeply formative experience when Kol sat you on his knee, looked you in the eyes, and said:

"Y/N, darling, I want you to listen to me very closely, alright? There is absolutely nothing on this earth you can do or say that will make your mother and I love you any less. There is no such thing as good enough - there is no bar you have to meet - only what you are. Now, a plate is infinitely replaceable, but you are our daughter and I will love you until the end of time. That makes you infinitely more valuable than a plate. Okay?"

"O-okay… dad?"

That was a day you never forgot as you grew older. 

Speaking of growing, no matter how old you get, Kol can and will pick you up by the ankle and hold you upside down. It never gets old.

Also, piggy-back rides.

You did go through a phase where you were convinced there was a monster in your closet.

"Dad! There's a monster in my closet and it wants to eat my toes!"

"Really? Well, I must applaud the audacity."

There were quite a few nights you spent cuddled up between them as Davina braided your hair and Kol told you a story until you fell asleep. 

Kol always refers to you and Davina as "his girls".

He's always willing to play with you, whether it be a game of tag or a complex drama plot with your dolls. (His personal favorite was when you decided to reenact the French Revolution in Barbie form.)

Daddy-Daughter Days are 100% a thing. The two of you are huge movie and arcade goers. Not to mention huge fantasy nerds. From Deltora Quest to Harry Potter to the freaking Wheel of Time - your fascination with the fantastical never fades as you grow. You never thought yourself too old to be read to at night, so Kol never stopped the tradition.

You're a little (a lot) spoiled. But not in a bad way. You're not ungrateful but let's just say you have quite a few pets.

Auntie Bex is always more than willing to babysit when your parents want some time to themselves. You remind her of Kol when he was a kid and she adores that.

Play-Dates with your cousin Hope mean quite a few headaches for your uncles Klaus and Elijah. Aunt Hayley thinks you're absolutely hilarious while Aunt Cami is convinced you're like 4 different varieties of insane. She might have a point there.

When you're old enough to be in school, you can always count on your parents to help you with your homework. You never would have made it through middle or high school without your dad, Kol is insanely good at math and chemistry. However, when it comes to anything to do with history or government, he passes the torch to Davina because even though he lived through it, he literally never paid enough attention to remember anything.

Parent-Teacher conferences are always interesting. 

"Y/N is so intelligent. Truly a joy to have in class."

"Is she now?"

Neither of them buys it for a second. You have a mischievous streak a mile long, the teacher just doesn't know that you're the one putting tacks on her chair. Kol is honestly proud and Davina may try to be the voice of reason but she can't help laughing at just how alike father and daughter turned out to be.

Now, if Hope is "miraculously well adjusted" then you're probably something like a thirty-year-old in an eight-year-old body. You're like the most chill child perhaps ever. However, just like your father, your maturity level varies with the situation.

For example, Klaus once decided it would be a good idea to whip out the "You're not even a real Mikaelson" card at a family reunion. It wasn't long before Davina had thrown Klaus into a wall and Kol and Marcel were at each other's throats. 

You honestly weren't even bothered. You knew your parents loved you and that was enough so you simply said:

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

And went back to eating your dinosaur chicken nuggets.

Marcel - apparently still a little touchy on that subject - was the last to sit down again. Little did he know just how proficient you had become with teleporting objects. Naturally, you were smirking when the whoopie cushion did its noble work.

Kol is terrified that he'll lose touch with you as you grow older.

This fear never comes to fruition.

The trust between you and your parents is something every other child ever would envy. They trust your judgment and, in turn, you trust the very few restrictions they put in place for you. It's crazy because they honestly never get mad. Like ever.

However, their disappointment is the worst thing you'll ever endure. 

 They told you not to go out one night because an old enemy of Klaus' was wandering around town. You went out anyway and you were attacked. Now, you were powerful enough to fight off your assailant and kill him, but you didn't come out of that fight unscathed. You had to limp home and tell your dad what had happened. 

"Are you mad at me?"

"No. I've done much worse in my life, for much dumber reasons. To be mad at you would make me a hypocrite. I just know you're better than this - Y/N, you've shown me that you're better than this. I'm not angry with you. I'm just extraordinarily disappointed."

It happens only once and never again.

Growing up with those two for parents ensured that you quickly mastered your magic and became one of the most powerful and skilled witches of all time. But don't think for a second that you would ever be used. They would never allow that to happen.

As you reach middle and high school, a rumor begins going around that your dad is a vampire. You just snort really loud and make no further comment. It leaves everyone wondering.

First boyfriend?

Heaven help the poor sod. 

"If you ever lay your hands on my daughter against her will, you will find that you no longer have hands. I will use the bones of them to fashion myself a new pen, with which I shall write your death certificate. Do I make myself clear?"

Once you're old enough, the basement becomes something of a witchy lab space.

Explosions are… frequent.

*Coughing* "Thank goodness your mother wasn't home for that one."

"Think again, Mikaelson."

"Oh shi-"

"Uh… Hi mom!"

You're probably the healthiest Mikaelson.

When the time comes for you to graduate, it's a hard dose of reality for Kol. He understands he has to let you live your life and he would never dream of taking that away as it was taken from him, but it's just hard.

You'll never stop being his little girl.

Special thanks to: @her-violent-delights

[just-some-random-blogger]

You know that trend ( it's not really new or anything) When a girl would ask her boyfriend/husband " do you remember what day it is." Just to get them to freak out and think they forgot an anniversary or something. Because people were saying that if you ask a man that he will automatically think he forgot something. What about Dream with something like that?

I Know All

"Do you remember what day it is?" "Day is a mortal concept," he blurts a bit too instantly. "... so you don't remember?"

Dream of the Endless x Reader | >600 | cw: gender neutral!reader, sulky!dream, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hi nonnie! i do know this trend. the first one i saw of it was so funny HAHAHAHA. i hope you enjoy what i whipped up <3 :D

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @sloanexx @shadow-pancake9

"Hi, love!" I beam, hugging him from behind.

Dream, who had just finished doing his round of tasks, tenses before he relaxes. I feel him release a sigh as his palms rest on my arms, "hello, my dreamer."

When he moves to turn, he, at first, tries to hold me back from pulling away. He is pacified upon realizing I meant to take only a few steps back. His otherwise blank expression cracks when he notices I was dressed up more than usual. His hands slip into mine.

"Don't I look extra cute today?" I give a Cheshire cat grin.

His lips curve upward. He pulls me forward and nods, "you are an exquisite creature."

I chuckle and cup his cheeks with my hand, "thank you, Mr. Sandman."

I watch him hold back an eyeroll as he releases a breath.

I laugh once more and rub down his arm, "right, we should get going."

Dream doesn't move a fraction from where he stood even though I pull him by the arm. Instead, topple all the way back into his chest and grunt.

He and I lock eyes. He furrows his brows, "are we going somewhere?"

I shoot him a confused look.

He outdoes my expression with his own.

I cannot mask my chuckle, but I play it off, "of course we're going somewhere! Don't tell me you forgot."

He does not respond for a moment, then betrays himself by clearing his throat too loudly, "remind me again where we are going, my dear?"

My dear. I hold back a laugh by biting my lip. I up the theatrics with a pout, "Dream..."

He is immediately on the defensive. He places his hands on my shoulders and shakes his head, "I had much to do. I merely need to jog my memory."

I start feeling bad because of how his teary blue eyes look.

"Do you remember what day it is?"

"Day is a mortal concept," he blurts a bit too instantly.

"... so you don't remember?"

Dream doesn't put up much of a fight after. He flakes the instant a sigh leaves his lips, "no. I do not remember what day it is, nor making any plans with you this day. I apologise, my love."

He defeatedly hangs his head and leans his forehead against mine. When his arms snake around me, it feels as though a dark cloud forms overhead. I pout through a chuckle and embrace him right back. I feel absolutely dreadful, "baby boy, I-"

"I swear to you, it is not my intention to-"

"Honey, no-" I pull away.

He repels me, "no, don't."

"Lovie!" I whisper, pulling back to caress his cheeks, "it's ok!" I pout, "it's all good. It's fine."

Dream is visibly dejected.

"Baby, don't worry. It was a joke. A really bad one at that, but I didn't mean it to be!"

His brows knit, "what?"

I purse my lips and brush his black hair back, "it was meant to be a funny-ha-ha prank..." I swipe his lips with my thumb before kissing them. I make a guilty expression, "I didn't think you'd be so... distraught about it."

Dream soaks in these works before cautiously wording, "does... this mean I did not... forget any engagement with you?"

I titter, "no, my lord. I was just trying to be funny."

He releases a breath of relief. His shoulders release its tension, "I could inspire your jokes, if you'd like."

I break into a laugh and shake my head, "no. I think I'm-"

"So," he furrows his brows in sudden realization, "you tricked me for your amusement?"

I open my mouth but find myself stuttering when he appears more sullen than he was moments ago, "it was meant to be a jo-"

"Well, I find no amusement in it," he frowns then pulls away.

"N- now, hold on. Dream. Don't be like that. Dream. Don't walk away! Honey! Please."

[neomedievalist]

hey chat. I did a deep (medium) dive into gamescent to figure out what the fuck they meant by any of that

first of all, the price tag, holy shit. second of all, AT PAX EAST? it took me a second to realize implication of this being at pax east. this is going to be an INVOLUNTARY EXPERIENCE for some people LOL. THE STINKY BOOTH AT PAX EAST.

The first thing I wanted to know is how the fuck does this use ai? i conjured a beautiful world where we could actually experience ai-generated scents but no, obviously it's just a buzzword used to drive investors. it uses ai to analyze the sound in your game to dispense the appropriate scent, which sounds bad.

Brief interlude i love this ai generated image they use on their "blog" section on their website, me and my little car i use for gaming

the first thing you'll find with this article and the website is that they are downright ADDICTED to pretending smell-o-vision was a good thing.

AHEAD OF ITS TIME? I WOULDN'T GO THAT FAR.

GEOFF, I DON'T THINK THE INSUFFICIENT TECHNOLOGY WAS THE ISSUE HERE.

The ONLY benefit of using AI they can come up with is the timing of the release of the scent lolll

ANIME SCENT

I'm personally obsessed with them calling it DLC because I have no idea how this is supposed to be downloadable lmao i couldn't find anything on their website using this terminology. Geoff Keighley what did you mean by this. You wouldn't download a scent.

to the eager anticipation of all ultrakill fans/sex freaks the BLOOD scent DLC will be coming soon.

there's a giveaway section for data harvesting and apparently 11,000 entries which i somehow doubt

I really love the vague wording here "will not be responsible for any outcome" ANY OUTCOME?

I forgot to say of course they have an app lmao. and i love how every physical item you buy is now just a license to use that item now. Surely they wont shut down service for this making your 200 CAD scent box useless laughing crying emoji

Literally what the fuck is this what does this product have to do with fitness. i can't find ANYTHING correlating this. i had a sneaking suspicion that most of this writing was ai generated but this might just confirm it lol

What is this tweet

tldr im not looking at this anymore when are they releasing the gabriel ultrakill armpit sweat dlc scent