#i think maybe its a test to see if i give into my base instinct to be mean when people play stupid games

[skrunglebeasts]

Do you hate men?

fascinating

[und8e2ff]

TL;DR - The Biolizard didn't mean to destroy the Earth. It only wanted to return home.

Biolizard has the mind of a beast, right? Not near as sentient as Sonic or Shadow. At least that's what we're told. I understand any living creature, regardless of sentience, can learn to be hostile towards anything it associates with pain. But... why would the Biolizard associate the Earth with pain? Biolizard is FROM the earth and that's the last place it was before it was subject to inhumane experiments.

I don't see something as bestial as the Biolizard piecing the logic together: "These people hurting me are from the Earth. And therefore I hate them and the Earth." Again, the Biolizard itself is from Earth and wasn't tortured until it was taken away. Just like how a dog doesn't know what country it's in but can still tell when they're in a different place, Biolizard would know it's in a different environment but wouldn't have the reasoning to figure anyone the on arc is also from Earth. Biolizard wasn't exposed to any of the scientists until it was on the Ark. It just wouldn't have the spatial reasoning to put that together.

All that being said, I think it makes more sense that the Biolizard simply wanted to go back home.

Again, it wouldn't have the spatial reasoning to figure the people experimenting on him from the Ark must also be from the Earth if the Biolizard is as simple-minded as we're told that it is. As far as it would be concerned, the Ark and the scientists were always there. And again, the last time it was on Earth, Biolizard's natural-born home, was the last time it was free from pain, exploitation, and imprisonment. Literally why would it hate the earth?

And in its state - consumed with unimaginable levels of pain and lashing out on everything and anything based on pure instinct to survive/protect itself from further harm - would it really be able to reason, "The way in which I'm trying to return to my home, the last place I've known peace, is going to destroy it"?

Kind of Rambling Beyond This Point

We have no way of knowing how sentient the Biolizard was or wasn't.

In real life, salamanders of all kinds do not have vocal cords. Regardless of what it was or wasn't aware of, it couldn't communicate with anyone anyway.

Given that the Biolizard wouldn't have vocal cords to make sounds, how does it roar? Take a very deep breath and exhale as hard as you can with your mouth wide open. And then use sci-fi logic and try to reason out the acoustics of its windpipe or smth, idk. The point is, the Biolizard wouldn't be capable of speech.

Some people think that the fact that it could use Chaos Control suggests that it might be more aware than most of the fandom seems to give it credit for. I'm not sure where I sit on this, but I'm not opposed to the idea. But even with that in mind, there's still no logical reason it would hate the earth.

It makes sense for Shadow to hate the Earth. Shadow's never been to the Earth before GUN raided the Ark. His only connection is that he cherishes it because Maria does. The Ark is Shadow's test tube born home. From his perspective, people came from the Earth to destroy the Ark and all his loved ones on it. HE has a reason to hate the Earth, the Biolizard doesn't.

The only way it would make sense to me that the Biolizard hated/wanted to destroy the earth is if the Biolizard was a "lab lizard"(?) similar to the concept of lab rats. If Biolizard started off as a lab lizard and has only known human exploitation all its life before and after the Ark, then maybe it could be trying to kill two birds with one stone. "I destroy the Ark and the Earth at the same time by making them collide and I finally get the death I've been denied over 50 years in the process."

We don't know where bb!Bio was sourced from. Science facilities generally want to deal with animals that are accustomed to captivity with a predictable baseline, so the last paragraph is kind of plausible.

But here's the thing, we don't know whether that's the case. It's only speculation.

[gentil-minou]

I'd love to go into psychology. I think that diagnosing people is absolutely fascinating, but I have a really hard time with empathy. I can understand characters in TV shows and books and why they do the things that they do, but when it's real people it feels like there's a mental block or something? I just have to try really hard to be understanding and patient and I think that doing that for years would make me feel terrible. I have the right personality to be a psychiatrist, but I hate science and I know that I'd hate doing medical school. I know that there's other jobs in psychology (like a research psychologist, or a professor or something maybe) but getting a PhD is phenomenally hard and I'm not sure if I can do it. I feel like, for a therapist or really for anyone in psychology, having a lot of empathy is almost a requirement. Can you be a therapist if you have a hard time with empathy and relating to people?

Hi! I'm so excited to hear you're interested and I always love talking to folks who are passionate about this as a career! We need folks, yes including folks like you!

For starters: psychology is a broad field and not just one career. There's different types and paths to follow, not just the stuff you see on TV. It can be stuff like psychiatry (which is more medication based and why more like med school), therapist (my field which I didn't need a doctorate for in the USA, only my masters and liscensure hours), occupational therapy (which is its own field and so so very important), school counselor. And etc etc. Some folks even use psych in other fields, like teachers and I know it helps im advertising and marketing. It's so multifaceted that there really isn't a limit!

What I mean to say is, in short, it's about figuring out what you're comfortable with doing and what's the right fit for you. And you have time! One of my classmates in my masters was 50, and they're terrific. Higher education is necessary, but there's many paths for the same thing. I'd say see what opportunities might be available for you now to test the waters, see where your interests lie. Do you like working with kids or adults? Do you prefer play therapy or talking about feelings? Do you like moving around and working on motor skills or helping someone in a crisis or trauma situation? Are you interested in social work or working in schools? Start with researching and see what sparks your interest, the more passionate you are about it the more motivated you'll be to go to school for it.

And as to your second question: you already HAVE empathy. You said you understand what a fictional character is thinking and why they act a certain way, and that's a start.

It's true having empathy is an important skill in this field, but it's a SKILL for a reason. It's something we have to practice, and that's part of why school is so important. Part of it is understanding how someone's experiences lead to they way they act, which comes from not just empathy but understanding the symptoms in play here.

I'll give a real example: a parent comes to me and says they don't like the work I'm doing with their kid and they want a new therapist, even though the kid doesn't. My instinct, and this I cannot stress enough is valid and normal reaction, is to be hurt and upset. I'm even angry, because I know I am doing good work and it's the parent who has been causing issues. I'm frustrated and so very very hurt.

But I can also acknowledge that my feelings are separate from the situation, that I need to dig deeper to find out the full bigger picture here. This career is a lot like detective work, because we have to search for clues that might tell us why someone does or acts a certain way. So for this parent I might think about what I know of home life, current events that might he impacting them. Does the parent have their own mental health that causes issues? Are they upset with me or the situation? And can I help them figure put and communicate? It builds on more than just empathy I think, and it's something that comes largely from experience and recognizing patterns.

It doesn't always come naturally, but it does come with practice. You definitely have empathy if you are able to think about how your reaction affects another person. It's just building on those skills! Gathering experience and letting yourself learn, recognizing what might be a weakness that you can build on. And crucially: Practice practice practice!

[dimpledcherry]

First kisses!

I had a thought:

virgin!reader and experienced!Eddie 

pst my master list :D

lemme just spill the scenarios really quick: 

- reader is as pure as it gets 

- never kissed a soul, barely hugged another 

- so when Eddie finds out about this, he’s gobsmacked but soft and gentle

- perhaps their first kiss is so unexpected:

- its 4m, you’ve woken up unexpectedly, not too sure why you can't get back to sleep. Rolling around in Eddie’s bed trying to recount sheep and chase the sandman has lead to the boy waking up. “You okay?” He’s mumbled through his sleep ridden state. You nod, humming a yes and explaining you can't get to sleep. “Come’ere” Eddie sighs, opening his arms, pulling you in onto his chest, wrapping you in an arm. He’s sighing and squeezing you slightly as you get closer.

You lean your head up a bit, rubbing your face into his upper chest / neck area trying to get comfy, Eddie’s carting his fingers through your hair. You stay like this for a short while, but you can't seem to get comfy enough to sleep. You lean your head into his neck more, to feeling of your breath causes Eddie to gasp slightly, his hold on you tensing. 

Something over takes your brain and you drop a light, quiet kiss to his neck, bringing a hand up to his opposite shoulder. Eddie rolls his eyes down to you but pulls his head away to give you more space.

You're not thinking so your brain is giving into its desires: you continue to leave the same extremely light kisses to the skin - going up to near his ear and down to the base.

You roll yourself more onto his, slotting yourself into the space between his legs, continuing to kiss his skin. His hands are now at your hips, holding you tighly in place. You kiss back up his neck, and around his jaw line to his checks. You pull back when you are near to his mouth.

You both fall into a trance of staring at one another in the darkness. One of his hands has moved to your jaw and both of your are on his pecks, keeping yourself up. The room’s filled with your spacey breaths. 

“You can kiss me if you want.” Eddie’s voice is low and cracks in places. He announces himself after you had flicked between his mouth and eyes one too many times.

“hm?” You wanted to but the new intimacy was scary - to be situated so deeply into someone personal space was a vulnerability you’d never experienced.

He sighed a laugh, rubbing your check with his thumb, “Kiss me, sweets, I can see you looking.” You instinctively lowered your face into your chest, embarrassed at the new scene. “No- don’t get shy on me now-” He cooed bringing you back up. “Can I kiss you, y/n?”

You nodded, Eddie pulled you down and pushed himself up. You closed your eyes and let him take over. You felt his lips purse on your own and followed the action. The kisses were short and brief - enough for you to get comfy by. 

- kissing becomes a normal for you both after a while

- Eddie still always asks before hand and you always only say yes to a proper kiss if its just the two of you

- forehead kisses are a constant with this guy

- so once kisses have been ticked off, Eddie finds himself one night sitting under you, maybe you’re both dropping light kisses onto each other again

- but one particular kiss, Eddie pulls your lip back with his teeth - and you feel your insides gush

- the kid nearly loses it at the whimper you make!

- “Shit-” He’s smiling like an idiot

“Sorry.” You mumble, head in your hands embarrassed.

“Wow no-” His hands are on yours pulling them away, “no no no,” They now rest on your jaw, “That was so gorgeous. Sweet, you sounded so pretty.” You feel your cheeks blush and he’s pushed back in.

Eddie decides to put an open mouth kiss to your lips this time round, testing the waters. When you respond correctly - pushing into him - he does it again and again until your practically falling into him.

“How do you do that?” You mumble to his lips

“huh?” 

“That kiss-” You voice looses all its weight, “It felt really nice.”

He chuckles, he secretly gets off to corrupting you. “When you go into to kiss me, don’t make the kissie face - do that when you’ve finally touched my mouth and then as you make it, pull back.” He gives you only enough time to nod before he’s back in doing it again.

On the rebound, you try it. And to great success, Eddie whines under you. He’s smashing his lips back into yours, tilting his head to the side to deepen it. His hands are locked to your hips, pulling you closers and closer, your hands lost in holding the base of his head.

- the first time you grind on him, PHHOOWWW

- EDDIE WAS CONVINCED HE WAS GONNA MELT 

- OR THAT HE’D MET GOD

- You both making out again. Same comfortable repeat of hands lost on each other, mouths combined, and kissing noises filling the room. Until you felt an urge, a familiar heat and tingle in-between your legs. You sigh into his mouth, the same time drawing your hips forward slightly,

Eddie tenses, he’s aware of what's just happened but can decide if he'd dreaming. Until you do it again and he can practically feel your breath hitch.

He’s moved himself off your lips, to kissing the edge of your mouth and jaw “God Sweets.” He lifts his hips into your own, and the little squeak you let out! “Shit- you sound gorgeous.” “You like me kissing us that much huh?” You nodded relentlessly, and he’s laughing lowly into your neck.

- You two just fall into a comfy pattern of kissing and grinding all night - no need to chase a high. Just comfy in this new intimacy.

- I've gone off topic

- but heeyyy this man loves kissing!!!!

[yoongiseesawmp3]

just about perfect - seonghwa

howdy folks, back with another fic but i’m switching it up on ya! i might start writing regularly for ateez as well so y’all are cool with that right? right.

summary: this is NOT inspired by seonghwa saying he watches nevertheless. why would you even think that.

warnings: not the kind of warning u were expecting but there’s no smut (i know its based off a show abt friends with benefits so that’s why i’m warning u. do not get ur hopes up) a little cussing, a lotta me waxing poetic abt the perfect man park seonghwa. also slight tomfoolery from the teezers

word count: 10.6k

the bookstore just off campus is your current go-to study spot, mostly because the cafe inside has a drink special where you buy one coffee and get a voucher for the new bakery next door. so, let’s just say the past few days you’ve been well caffeinated and well fed. you’re on the way there now, already planning out what your treats are going to be. 

today you were supposed to meet your “study group” after your last class of the day, but it looks like you’re the only one here so far. and you say “study group” loosely, the professor for your music theory elective encouraged everyone to make a study group for the upcoming final and your group of friends chose to work together. there’s been no studying going on, though.

especially not when hongjoong’s new friend seonghwa has been flirting with you literally nonstop. he’s apparently friends with everyone else in your group too. san knows him from an art class they took together last semester, meanwhile wooyoung and yeosang claim they lived on seonghwa’s floor freshman year and he always bought them booze. seonghwa denies it, only because hongjoong would slap him if he admitted to buying alcohol for underage kids. 

tasteful delinquency aside, seonghwa is a fine person. you mean personality fine, not like, fine fine even though san would beg to differ. he knows you’ve developed a thing for seonghwa despite trying not to, and he’s secretly trying to get you two together. 

which is why san suddenly texts you and says he can’t make it, and neither can yeosang or wooyoung. they decided to ditch studying to practice for the final in their dance class instead, so it’ll be just you, seonghwa and hongjoong. and little did you know, hongjoong was trying to do the same thing as san. so we’ll see how this goes. 

- 

“y/n, you can’t do that,” hongjoong warns you, referring to the scale you were trying to fill out. 

“why not?” you ask, looking down at your work and wondering what’s wrong.

“because it’ll sound like shit,” seonghwa replies before sipping his coffee. 

“what he said,” hongjoong agrees, grabbing your paper and erasing some of the notes you had scribbled out. “it should look more like this.”

you glance over at what he’s done on top of your old work and sigh. you took this class because you like music, and you thought learning about how it works would be interesting, but it’s hard. 

“can’t you just do all my work for me?” you plead. at this rate, you don’t think you’ll be able to pass the final. 

“no, i don’t want you dragging me down in this class,” hongjoong replies. “my grades are great.” 

“i hate you.”

“what are you struggling with, y/n?” seonghwa asks as he finally looks up from his laptop. he had been working on an assignment for another class this whole time because he, like hongjoong, is great with music theory. so maybe this study group was a good thing. 

“here, you can switch seats with me,” hongjoong says as he clears the spot next to you on the weathered loveseat. “i’m going to look for a book i should’ve started reading two weeks ago.” 

before you can protest, seonghwa is sliding his laptop across the coffeetable and slides himself into the spot next to you. when he sits you notice your thighs are touching, which is weird because there was plenty of space when hongjoong was here. you don’t know that seonghwa is doing this on purpose, that hongjoon really left so he could flirt with the cute cashier in the cafe to give you and seonghwa some alone time. 

“so,” seonghwa starts once he’s settled. “what are you struggling with?” 

“hmm, all of it?” you reply. your answer makes seonghwa smile, and you like the way his eyes sparkle when he does.

“then i guess we’ll be here a while.”

-

about an hour later, seonghwa has walked you through all the major and minor scales you need to know for the test and you’re starting to understand a little more. you’re still having problems with the back of the study guide where you have to come up with note combinations that can apply to those scales, but you have time to work on that since the final is two weeks out. right now, your brain is fried and you need a break. 

“do you mind if i go get a coffee?” you ask seonghwa, who was in the middle of sending you the minor scale cheat sheet he made. he looks up from his laptop and shakes his head before he speaks.

“i would only mind if i can’t come with you.”

“it’s literally right over there, why do you need to come with me?” you question.

“i think i would just miss you too much,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes. seonghwa shuts his laptop and stands up. “what if i need coffee too?”

“you already had one,” you remind him as you stand.

“yeah,” he nods. “but teaching you is exhausting, so i need another. c’mon.”

he walks ahead of you to the counter, and you’re too busy searching for your wallet to notice he took his jacket off, revealing a sneaky tattoo on the back of his neck. it isn’t until you’re behind him in line that you get a look at the hand drawn star right on the nape of his neck, and you have to refrain from reaching out to trace the lines.

“i didn’t know you had a tattoo,” you decide to say. he turns around and instinctively rubs his hand across the tattoo, smiling at you with those sparkly eyes again.

“yeah, i have a couple,” he replies. “but this one is my favorite.”

“why?”

“because my name means ‘to become a star’, so i like knowing that i have a reminder with me all the time,” he explains.

“nice. it’s really pretty.”

“thanks, so are you.”

“sir?” the barista calls, pulling seonghwa’s attention from you. he steps up to give his order as you stare at the tattoo again, noticing alongside it a couple of freckles that almost make it look like a constellation.

“y/n?” seonghwa’s voice draws you out of your thoughts and you realize he’s finished ordering. “what do you want?”

“oh, i can get it,” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“no, my treat,” he insists, and you sheepishly walk up to the counter to give your order. seonghwa makes a mental note of what you get, and he also snatches the bakery voucher from you before you can put it in your pocket. you make a confused sound and seonghwa laughs. 

“why’d you do that?” you whine.

“you only get to use it if you come with me to the bakery later,” he teases. “say yes or i’m drinking your coffee and getting myself an extra cupcake.”

“fine,” you huff. “but i have an assignment due at midnight, so i can’t stay long.”

“it’s 4pm, that’s not enough time for you to finish it?” he asks while you step out of the way for the next customers.

“i haven’t started yet,” you admit. 

“you like saving things until the last minute, don’t you?”

“what makes you say that?”

“well, it looks like you haven’t been studying music theory at all, and now this,” he shrugs. 

“not everybody can be perfect like you, park seonghwa,” you grumble as the barista places two coffee cups on the bar. you hear seonghwa giggle shortly, and you give him a questioning look.

“so you think i’m perfect?” he smirks.

-

it’s the next day, almost midnight, and you really need spray paint. 

why? well, you’re stressed because you have so much to study for your finals and you don’t know where to start. yes, seonghwa helped yesterday, but he’s not in all your other classes, so you’ve decided you need a break from tearing your hair out over the material you can’t comprehend. the best way to distract yourself from that is to finally paint that dresser you got from a garage sale a few months ago, hence the spray paint. 

thankfully, san is still awake, and he has a car, so you ask him to pick you up for a quick run to the art supply store that’s surprisingly still open. a bonus of going to college in the city, you can get anything almost whenever you need it. 

“thanks for coming to get me,” you tell san as you hop into his car. 

“no problem,” he replies. “i was bored and hongjoong said he needed paint pens so this is a win-win situation. plus, i get to hear about your date with seonghwa yesterday.”

“it was not a date,” you groan, choosing to ignore the suggestive way san is looking at you right now. 

“but you spent the whole afternoon together,” san starts. “he bought you coffee and you went to the bakery together and talked about, like, your favorite colors and stuff. sounds like a date to me.”

“how do you know all that?”

“seonghwa told hongjoong and then hongjoong told me,” he explains as he turns onto the street that’ll take you to the art store. 

“well tell hongjoong that i’m still mad at him for ditching us,” you reply. “and i’m still kinda mad at you and the other two for bailing in the first place.”

“hey, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have had your first date with seonghwa,” san points out.

“it was not a date!” you cry. “we studied most of the time we were together, then he bought my coffee and bullied me into going to the bakery. i couldn’t stay long because i had a paper to write, so we talked about stupid shit until i had to leave.”

“it sounds like the beginning of true love to me,” san sing-songs. 

“stop the car, i’ve decided to walk.”

-

when you get to the store, san separates from you quickly because he sees his friend mingi behind the counter. they’re busy talking while you search the store for the paints, and you’re so busy looking up at the aisle names that you don’t notice you’re about to run into someone. 

“hey-” you start to complain, but you recognize the man you almost bumped into. “oh, seonghwa.”

“y/n,” he smiles at you. “what are you doing out so late?” 

“uh, distracting myself from how small my brain is,” you explain. “what are you doing here?”

“hongjoong needed paint pens,” he says, and you’re about two seconds away from finding san and slapping him. did they really plan this too? 

“why didn’t he come get them?” you ask as you remember what you’re here to find. your eyes scan the aisle behind seonghwa and you spot the paint cans at the end, but he’s in your way.

“i offered,” he says with a shrug.

“you must be a really good friend, then.”

“well you did call me perfect yesterday, so...” he trails off, smirking. you roll your eyes at him but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. he interrupts his new favorite activity of staring deeply into your eyes (just to fluster you, of course) and he sees that you’re looking past him at the shelves of paint. “you need something down here?” 

“um, yeah, the spray paint,” you reply, awkwardly trying to skirt around him to get into the aisle. he steps aside to let you through, but still follows you as you search for the color you want.

“what are you making?” 

“i’m painting a scuffed up dresser i’ve had for a while, so i want something simple that’ll go with the rest of the things in my room,” you explain as you stop walking and crane your neck to scan the bottles on the top shelf. seonghwa stops behind you and places his hand on the small of your back as he reaches for a can just out of your reach.

“what about this one?” he offers, handing you a can of light blue paint. it’s really pretty, and it’ll stand out with the white furniture you already have, but you really like it.

“oh, that’s perfect!” you say as you take the can from his hands.

“there you go again,” seonghwa teases, and you shoot him a questioning look. he smiles as he responds. “calling me perfect?”

“i said the paint was perfect, weirdo,” you snap. “but thank you for finding this.”

“anytime,” he tells you. “you said your favorite color was blue right?”

“right...” you mumble, thinking back to the conversation you had at the bakery yesterday. “how’d you remember?”

“ugh, i’m hurt!” he exclaims, hand flying to his chest in mock surprise. “i can’t believe you already forgot that it’s my favorite color too.”

“hm, guess i was too distracted by how perfect you are,” you joke. seonghwa laughs at that, a sharp sound that seemed to catch him off guard. he covers his mouth to stifle the sound, but you’re close enough to the cash register now that it draws attention from san and mingi.

“find what you need?” san asks with a shit eating grin.

“hm, just about,” you say as you place the paint on the counter. “couldn’t find a hammer big enough to drop on your head, though.”

“wow, harsh,” san scoffs. “and to think i brought you here out of the goodness of my heart.”

you’re too busy half-bickering with san to notice that seonghwa has paid for your paint and the pens he promised hongjoong. he mumbles something to mingi, who then hands him a piece of paper. he scribbles his number down for you before handing you the can and his number. 

“i gotta go, but i’ll see you later for study group, right?” he confirms. you’re still processing the fact that he keeps buying things for you and you can’t respond in time, so san steps in.

“yeah, y/n will be there,” san assures seonghwa. he nods and shoots you one last smile before he excuses himself and leaves. you’re stuck with san and that stupid grin again. he looks at you and then checks the paper with seonghwa’s number on it. “yep, i think you got what you needed.”

-

even though seonghwa very willingly gave you his number, you’re still afraid to text him. it’s kind of hard to believe that he’s into you the way you’re into him, so you’re fine with just seeing him for study dates. or, uh, not study dates. study gatherings. with just the two of you. because the other guys have bailed, again.

this time, though, you’re not working on music theory. you have an assignemnt due for your ethics class, and you need family and friends to read about your results from this morals test. you wanted san to do it, but he’s currently “chasing a sweet piece of ass,” whatever that means. he’s probably bothering his lab partner that he claims descended from greek gods. you would usually tease him for saying something like that, but it’s a thought you’ve had about seonghwa, so you kept your mouth shut.

anyway, you know you need someone to answer these questions for you, but you can’t bring yourself to ask seonghwa. he kept up his “perfect” demeanor again today, showing up at the bookstore before you so he could get you the coffee you like. you would ask why he keeps doing things like this for you, remembering your favorite color and your coffee order, but you’re afraid he’ll stop if you bring it up. little do you know, every time he learns something new about you, he writes it down in his notes app, keeping a running tab of the things you like.

“y/n?” you hear him ask. his voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you realize you’ve been staring at him this whole time. the smirk you’ve become so familiar with makes another appearance as he gets ready to tease you. “something on your mind?”

“no, i...no,” you stutter. “i’m just thinking.”

“about what?” he questions as he lifts his coffee cup to his lips. you watch the way he slightly pouts them before taking a sip and you have to stop yourself from staring again.

“just this ethics assignment i want to finish,” you explain. “sorry, i didn’t realize i was staring at you.”

“must be an important assignment,” he nods, leaning forward to put his cup back on the table in front of you. you get another glimpse at the star tattoo on his neck as he does. “because i was definitely staring at you too, and you didn’t even notice.”

“oh?” 

“yep,” he confirms. “i was giving you my best puppy dog eyes and everything.”

“puppy dog eyes?” you ask, unsure of what’s coming. “do you need something?”

“eh, not really,” he shrugs. “i’m just worried.”

“why?”

“you never texted me the other night.”

“after the art store?” you ask incredulously. 

“isn’t that when i gave you my number?” he smirks. 

“i didn’t think you wanted me to text you immediately...”

“well, it’s been three days and i still don’t have your number,” he pouts. 

“hold on a second,” you mumble, reaching for your bag. you fumble around in there, searching for the piece of paper with seonghwa’s number on it as he watches you fondly.

“what are you doing?”

“looking for your number,” you reply like it’s obvious. seonghwa laughs a little and places his hand on your arm to stop you. 

“you do know i’m right next to you, and i could just put my number in myself?” he asks, eyes sparkling as he half-smiles at you. you blush, because no, you weren’t thinking about that. you sheepishly hand him your phone and watch as he adds his number and then texts himself. he gives your phone back and replaces it with his own before asking, “what’s your favorite emoji?”

“um, the smiling cowboy?” you offer, not sure why he’s asking. he laughs again, like he did in the art store, but this time it’s harder for him to quiet the breathy giggles coming from his chest.

“why that one?” he asks, typing something quickly.

“it’s funny,” you shrug. “why?”

“needed something cute to put next to your name, but you’re a weirdo, so it’s not as cute as i was imagining,” he explains, showing you the contact card in his phone. your number is saved as “y/n 🥰🤠” and you can’t help but laugh. you look up at seonghwa, warmth in your eyes, and he starts laughing too.

“see?” you giggle. “it is funny.”

“whatever, at least now i have your number.”

-

after exchanging numbers with seonghwa, you’re starting to let yourself believe little by little that he might feel the same way you do. it’s not anything serious, but there’s definitely something there. the texts he sends are always flirtatious, and it has your heart beating faster every time you get a notification, hoping that it’s him. you’re in the middle of studying for your spanish final when you feel your phone vibrate on the bed next to you, and you smile when you see who it’s from.

seonghwa 🥺💫, 6:28pm: are you busy rn?

you, 6:28pm: not really, just studying

seonghwa 🥺💫: can’t be studying too much if you replied that quickly 🥸

you: what do u want

seonghwa 🥺💫: be nice :-(

you: sorry

you: hi seonghwa, how are you? what do you want.

seonghwa 🥺💫: come get dinner with me? 

you: right now?

seonghwa 🥺💫: no, in 30 years. yes right now 

you: but i’m studying ://

seonghwa 🥺💫: liar!

you: fine, when and where?

seonghwa 🥺💫: i’ll pick you up in ten 🤠

- 

“you sure like staying close to campus, huh?” you ask seonghwa as he walks you about a block from your usual hangout and to a little hole in the wall restaurant that looks like it could seat maybe 20 people, uncomfortably. 

“i know what i like,” he responds with a shrug. “speaking of things i like, you look nice.”

“oh, thank you,” you semi-laugh. you’d been close to panic trying to figure out what to wear (because you’re not sure if this is a date) so you went with something simple, but you’re glad seonghwa likes it. not that you wanted to impress him. but you did, a little. anyway, he looks...well, perfect, wearing black ripped jeans and a velvet-y navy shirt. you continually have to stop yourself from reaching out and stroking his arm just to feel the soft fabric (and maybe his muscles). 

“so i take it you’ve never been here before?” he asks as he hands you a menu. you shake your head no in response. you can’t tell if he’s doing it intentionally, but seonghwa leans closer into your side as he explains. “you pick a main entree, but each dish comes with these sides. they say no substitutes, but i know the guy behind the counter so you can ask for more of something else if you don’t like one of them.”

“i might do that,” you say. “i don’t really want dumplings, so could i get extra sweet potatoes?”

“of course,” he nods, noting the way you smile slightly. it makes your eyes light up, and his heart does a little backflip knowing that he’s the reason for it. well, the sweet potatoes probably are, but he’s the one getting the sweet potatoes, so he’s taking that win for himself. once you both confirm what you want, he places his hand on your back and guides you to the counter.

“hey seonghwa!” the tall guy with a lopsided smile behind the register greets. “long time no see. who’s your friend?”

“hey yunho,” seonghwa smiles back. “this is y/n, a vip, so make sure you give us the good stuff.”

“extra sweet potatoes?” yunho laughs. you and seonghwa both nod as yunho continues taking your order, and you find yourself comfortably leaning into seonghwa as you wait for yunho to calculate the price. before seonghwa can even think about taking his wallet out, you’re handing yunho cash for the food, which makes seonghwa sputter.

“what? y/n, i was going to pay,” he whines, and you simply shake your head.

“nope, my turn,” you tell him. “you’ve bought me coffee too many times.”

“but i asked you out! i don’t want you to pay on our first date if i’m the one who brought you here,” he continues to complain.

“so this is a date?” you confirm, right as yunho asks suggestively “oh, this is a date?”

“yunho, give y/n’s money back,” seonghwa says, ignoring the two of you. “i’m paying.”

“yunho, if you give me that money i’ll be forced to leave and stand seonghwa up for our date,” you say, emphasizing the last word. now you’re glad you wore clean pants.

“seonghwa, why don’t you let y/n pay for this, and then you can get the next one?” yunho suggests, sending you a wink before he turns to the kitchen to share your order with the chef. you’re left with a flustered seonghwa, which is a sight you’re not used to, and it makes you laugh.

“c’mon,” you say as you pull on his arm. “let’s go find a table.”

you’re the only ones in the restaurant, so the food comes out pretty quick, and you have to stifle a laugh when you see that someone has arranged the sweet potatoes on a separate plate in the shape of a heart. seonghwa blushes at this, and you’re taken aback by how shy he’s suddenly become.

for some reason, seonghwa showing signs of nervousness puts you at ease, and you lead the conversation to something stupid san told you about the boys and their shenanigans at their dorm. the story has seonghwa laughing, and he confirms that yes, yeosang does have a sword by the tv, and yes, hongjoong did threaten to use it on him after he lost an intense match of fifa. 

“in hongjoong’s defense,” seonghwa begins, “i do think yeosang cheated. wooyoung was definitely helping him.”

“it still sounds ridiculous,” you tell him. “why does anybody need a sword?”

“yeosang is just...yeosang,” seonghwa replies. “he’s weird but he won’t admit that to anyone.”

“i’m just saying, if i went to someone’s house and there was a katana by the tv, i’d haul my ass outta there.” seonghwa giggles at how serious you look, but this conversation reminds him...

“you never showed me your room,” he says bluntly. you pause for a moment, spoon halfway to your mouth, and seonghwa realizes how that must sound. “i mean, the paint, your dresser. you never showed me a picture once you fixed it up.”

“oh,” you breathe out. “let me grab my phone, i can show you.”

“show him what?” a familiar voice suddenly asks from the seat next to you. when you notice that san, and some of your other friends, have snuck their way into the restaurant, you have to keep yourself from groaning.

“why are you here.”

“i’m hungry,” san replies, then turns to seonghwa. “you didn’t tell us you were getting dinner.”

“i didn’t want to,” seonghwa deadpans. “ i wanted it to be just me and y/n.”

“too late for that, pal,” honjoong says as he slides into the seat across from you. “hi y/n.”

“hey hongjoong,” you grumble. “please tell me you’re getting your food to go.”

“we were, but then we saw our good friends eating all by themselves and thought we should join them,” hongjoong teases. by now, the rest of the boys have sat down around you, some at other tables, and one of them you don’t recognize. that must be jongho, their younger “roommate” who technically lives in first year housing but doesn’t get along with the other guy in his room. you’ve heard seonghwa complain that jongho eats all of his snacks. 

“well, i hope you enjoy your food, but seonghwa and i were just about to leave,” you lie, looking at seonghwa with a stare that pleads ‘please go along with this.’

“where are you going?” wooyoung asks, one table over.

“my apartment,” you respond quickly, standing up as seonghwa follows your cue with a stupidly adorable look on his face.

“oh, perfect!” san chirps. “we’ll come with you!”

- 

so much for your date with seonghwa. it was hard to stop the boys from insisting they all join you at your apartment, especially after yunho said his shift was over and he could really use some destressing. and by destressing he meant booze, so you currently have 8 tipsy boys scattered across your living room. if you thought they were loud before...it’s amazing that your neighbors haven’t complained yet. 

it started off innocent enough, you were just playing card games at first and the loser of each round had to drink. then it turned into never have i ever, and each time you put a finger down you had to drink. then yeosang suggested shots, and it really went downhill from there. san tried convincing everyone to play a round of spin the bottle just for the chance of making you and seonghwa kiss, but mingi and wooyoung were the only ones down, so majority ruled there. 

“san, stop pouting,” you laugh, noticing that he’s upset over his evil plan not working out.

“it’s fine,” he lies, duck lips on full display. 

“spin the bottle is such a tween-y game too,” jongho pipes in. “and we’re adults, so it would be kinda stupid to play it anyway.”

“says the baby of the group,” yeosang scoffs. 

“what about truth or dare?” hongjoong suggests. “still immature, but we can make it fun.”

“yes!” san shouts, suddenly back in a positive mood. 

“i’ll start,” mingi volunteers. he takes a deep breath as he looks around the room, eyes narrowing when he looks at you and seonghwa. you’re currently smushed into your armchair together, not really by choice, because the couch is completely full and neither of you wanted to sit on the floor (you know how dirty it is, and seonghwa has a bad hip). thankfully, mingi has mercy on you and directs his gaze to his best friend. “yunho, truth or dare?”

“truth,” yunho slurs out. you’d say he’s the opposite of stressed by now.

“did you sleep with that girl you met at the party last week?”

“no,” yunho replies quickly, cheeks turning a knowing shade of red. “i just walked her home.”

“and went missing until the next morning?” yeosang asks. he gets a few snickers, and you laugh a little too because you remember san and wooyoung talking about their friend who disappeared for a few hours last weekend.

“whatever,” yunho groans. “yeosang. truth or dare.”

“dare,” yeosang chooses confidently. 

“kiss wooyoung on the cheek.”

“no,” he replies, just as confidently. 

“then take another shot,” yunho concedes, waving his hand at the stubborn boy. wooyoung mumbles something about how kissable he is as yeosang downs what looks like more than just a regular shot.

“this is boring,” jongho whines, which makes him the next target. he chooses dare, and you have to detach yourself from seonghwa so you can go into your kitchen and find the lemon juice in your fridge so jongho can chug what’s left. he’s sputtering after a few sips and gives up, grumbling up to you, “ i hate you for that.”

“hey, it wasn’t my dare,” you defend yourself. “you owe me lemon juice.”

“i’ll give it to you if you choose dare,” jongho challenges. you roll your eyes and take the bait, earning a round of ooo’s from the boys around you. 

“make her kiss seonghwa,” someone hisses.

“or me!” wooyoung chirps. jongho looks over at him with a death glare, and wooyoung shrugs. “i just want someone to want to kiss me.”

“i think you’re cut off,” hongjoong says as he leans across your coffee table to move the bottle away from wooyoung.

“everyone be quiet!” san shouts. “jongho has to give y/n a dare.”

“hmmm,” jongho starts, tapping his finger on his chin. “what should i do?”

“for someone who said this was boring, you’re really milking this,” seonghwa says under his breath. you’re perched on the arm of the chair, close enough to hear him, but thankfully no one else does.

“what’s that other childish game called?” jongho wonders aloud. “seven minutes in heaven? i think you should do that with seonghwa.”

“do i have to?” you pout, and your reluctance makes seonghwa stiffen. he thinks you said that because you’re uncomfortable, and not because you don’t want the boys pressing their ear up to the door while the two of you make out.

“rules are rules,” hongjoong concludes, nodding his head toward your room. “go have fun. i’ll keep the kids from bothering you.”

you look to seonghwa, who isn’t looking directly at you. you tentatively take his hand, giving it a squeeze before you stand up and lead him to your room. there are so many catcalls, whistles and cheers coming from your friends that you barely hear san say “take your time! it doesn’t have to be just seven minutes!”

once you get to your room, you let seonghwa go in first and then you lock the door behind you. he quirks an eyebrow at that, and you shrug shyly. 

“don’t want one of them bursting in,” you explain. seonghwa nods, and you both fall silent. it’s not necessarily awkward, just tense. you both want to do what seven minutes in heaven is meant for, but you’re not gonna make the first move and seonghwa still isn’t sure you even want to be in this situation. so he takes this time to turn around and take your room in, pointing to your dresser.

“is this it?” he asks. you hum out a yes in response, and he runs his hand over the freshly painted wood. “it looks nice. whoever picked out the color sure knows what he’s doing.”

“eh, he’s just lucky,” you joke, and you both laugh. you move to stand next to him and place your hand on top of his. “sorry we couldn’t finish our date.” 

“sorry my friends are so annoying,” seonghwa adds. 

“sorry san pushed me into your lap earlier,” you continue, and seonghwa smirks.

“well, i didn’t mind that,” he says. “i wanted you to sit with me, but i didn’t want to draw attention.”

“oh,” you squeak, feeling a blush on its way to your cheeks. a heavy silence falls over you, and seonghwa is the first to break it.

“listen, if you don’t want to kiss me, that’s cool,” he begins. “i kinda got the vibe earlier that you didn’t want to do this, and that’s cool. if you don’t want to do this we’re still cool.”

“you don’t sound very cool about it,” you chuckle, and seonghwa’s face flushes. “but i was only nervous because i didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me.”

“oh i want to kiss you,” he says firmly. “have for a while.”

“why don’t you do it then?” you challenge. seonghwa takes a step closer to you, and before you know it he’s pinned you against your dresser. you balance your hands on it and the cool wood helps you ground yourself as your body heats up from having seonghwa so close.

“are you sure?” he asks, only a few inches from your face. you nod and whisper out “i’m sure” and seonghwa quickly cups your face and smothers you in a kiss. it starts off slow, and your face warms at his touch. once you relax into it you move your lips against his, nipping at his bottom lip slightly and earning a groan from the man before you. you take the chance to slip your tongue past his lips as you bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, slowly brushing through his soft hair. his hands find their way to your waist, gripping tightly but not too hard, and he leans in to get as close to you as possible. you keep kissing for a few moments, but eventually you need to breathe so you lightly tap on his neck. he pulls back, breathing heavy, and his smile shines like the most beautiful stars in the sky. “so?”

“so?” you repeat, equally out of breath.

“that was nice.”

“it was.”

“the boys are gonna know we made out.”

“of course they are,” you laugh. “your lips look swollen.”

“so do yours,” he counters. 

“but wasn’t that the whole point of us coming in here?” you ask. your hands have fallen to his chest, and you finally get a chance to smooth out the soft velvet of his shirt. and you notice his chest is very, uh, firm, too.

“we didn’t have to kiss,” he says with a shrug. “we could’ve just talked.”

“about what?” you ask with a smile.

“my keen eye for interior design,” he replies. “how sexy you look in low lighting.”

“so you think i’m sexy?” you tease, and seonghwa rolls his eyes.

“i just had my tongue in your mouth, does that answer your question?”

another silence comes over you both, but this one is lighter than before. you’re subconsciously rubbing your hands over his shirt, and seonghwa brings a hand up to cover yours, stopping it right over his heart.

“we don’t have to tell them,” you offer. “i mean, they kept it a secret from us that they were trying to get us together this whole time.”

“oh no, i was fully aware of that,” seonghwa tells you, and you scoff. “do you think i really wanted to get out past midnight just to buy hongjoong some expensive markers? he never even paid me for them.”

“well now i really don’t want to tell them we kissed,” you whine. “how could everyone be in on this except me?”

“it was more fun that way,” seonghwa teases before pecking your lips. “but we can keep this between us, for now.”

“i think we should,” you say with a nod of finality. “it’s more fun that way.”

“c’mon, let’s go back out there before they send a search party.”

you return to the living room before seonghwa (so he can sneak into the bathroom and fix his hair) and you find most of the boys asleep on the floor. you sigh as your eyes meet hongjoong’s, and he shrugs.

“at least they didn’t bother you,” he says. 

“can you help me find pillows and blankets for them, please?” you ask, and he nods before jumping into action. he throws one of the couch pillows down to yeosang, who takes it and hugs it to his chest. you have a couple extras in your hall closet and you pass them to yunho, who’s sitting up when you come back. he places one under mingi and another under jongho and keeps the last one for himself. san and wooyoung are on the couch, and hongjoong tells you he’s fine with the armchair. seonghwa is out of the bathroom by now, and, like the perfect man he is, he’s carrying blankets in his arms. the three of you work on getting all the boys covered before you realize that seonghwa doesn’t have a place to sleep.

“i can take another spot on the floor,” he assures you. “do you have another pillow i can use?”

“let him sleep in your room, y/n,” san mumbles from underneath wooyoung. you pause and look at seonghwa, who’s looking back at you with something you can’t read in his eyes. 

“it’s not a bad idea,” hongjoong pipes in from somewhere within the blanket cocoon he made for himself. “he was just there. you can put him on the floor.”

“y/n?” seonghwa asks, pulling your attention back to him. “i don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” 

you would try to fight it, so you could hopefully ignore taunts from the boys in the morning, but you’re suddenly really tired and you just want to lay down.

“i’m ok with it if you are,” you yawn. “take the rest of those blankets, we can use those for your bed.”

“make good choices,” honjoong mumbles as seonghwa leads you back to your room, and you hear san going “oooooo” as you close your door a second time tonight. this time you don’t lock it though, and when you turn around you see the blankets on the floor and seonghwa sprawled out on your usual side of the bed, so you tell him.

“well why don’t you come join me then?” he teases with a grin. you blush and shake your head.

“scoot over.”

he does, but only by an inch. he still looks at you with that flirty glint in his eyes, and you can only shake your head again as you crawl into the tiny space next to him. he immediately wraps an arm around your waist and gives you a tight hug, placing a kiss on your shoulder.

“thank you,” he whispers into your back.

“for what?” you reply.

“for not putting me on the floor. and for liking me.”

-

you just woke up from maybe the best night of sleep you’ve ever had. seonghwa’s arms and legs are draped over yours, so you can’t get up without waking him, but having him so close is a welcome source of warmth. your apartment is quiet, and the sun is peacefully filtering into your room through your curtain. it’s the perfect moment, with your perfect boy, until- 

“i think they’re still asleep,” you hear someone whisper from the hallway.

“wooyoung, leave them alone!” another voice hisses. there’s silence for a moment, and then a smack, followed by someone jiggling the doorknob to your room. you quickly untangle yourself from seonghwa before you watch as the door cracks open a bit, revealing wooyoung in all his bed-headed glory. you close your eyes as much as you can while still peeking at who’s sneaking into your room, and you see jongho close behind him. he must’ve been the one who got smacked. or did the smacking. either way, they’re both staring at you and seonghwa in your bed, but you notice wooyoung smile and pause.

“i knew it! they definitely got together last night.”

“how do you know?” jongho asks. “maybe y/n let seonghwa sleep on the bed because of his old man hips.”

“whatever. they’re in the same bed, so that’s at least something,” wooyoung replies. “lame, but still something.”

“what did you expect?” jongho asks incredulously. “you thought we would catch them doing it?”

“i mean, not exactly, but couldn’t i get a little cuddling maybe?”

“you want me to cuddle you hyung?” jongho deadpans.

“yes, actually-”

“hey!” a third voice whisper shouts. you hear footsteps and then you see hongjoong pulling wooyoung out of your room by the neck of his shirt. “leave them alone. and you, jongho, i’m surprised you’re playing along with this.”

“well...” jongho mumbles.

“well what?” hongjoong asks, sounding like the mom-est mom to ever mom.

“they’re the only ones that know how to make breakfast.”

“both of you, out! now!” hongjoong semi-shouts, and you feel seonghwa stirring behind you. hongjoong doesn’t realize you’re both awake and closes the door as he leaves.

“what time is it?” seonghwa grumbles out, and your heart skips a beat hearing how deep his voice is when he wakes up.

“early,” you reply, turning around to be face to face with him. his arms slowly snake around you as you look up at him and share a sleepy smile. “how can you look this good when you first wake up?”

“weird, i wanted to ask you the same thing,” seonghwa replies, leaning in to kiss you but you touch your fingers to his lips and stop him, so he pouts. 

“uh uh, not until i brush my teeth,” you say as you try to get up, but seonghwa’s grip on your waist keeps you down.

“please,” he pouts again, sparkly eyes on full display as he pleads with you. it takes about half a second for you to cave and kiss him quickly, catching him off guard. he shifts to pull you on top of him and deepen the kiss, but he loses his grip on you and you’re able to slip out of bed before he can stop you. a noise comes from deep in his chest that almost sounds like a growl, and you shoot him a glare.

“hey, you got your kiss,” you warn. “now i’m going to make breakfast for the gremlins. do you want to help me?”

-

after the intrusion into your bedroom, wooyoung obviously told the boys what he saw. but, like jongho said, most of them thought it was just because of seonghwa’s hips that made you share a bed with him. there wasn’t enough evidence otherwise, and none of them really expected either of you to make a move despite their efforts. but they’re starting to get suspicious.

little do they know, after the set up fell into place, seonghwa wanted to take you on a real date. the only way to do that without your friends knowing was to sneak around without them, which was kind of fun. it was nice having this bubble with seonghwa, just the two of you, but it was getting harder to avoid your friends. seonghwa lived with them after all, so they pestered him about how often he was out and who he might be out with. 

“san keeps asking if you’re a good kisser. i told him i didn’t know, and then he asked if he could find out for me. should i be concerned about that?”

“we need to be more careful, yeosang said he saw us at the taco place yesterday, and he said we hold hands weird.”

“hongjoong has been saving seats for us at the bookstore, and each time we don’t show up i think he steals something from me.”

you have been ditching study group lately, but that’s more because you need to do some deep studying for your other finals and your friends are too much of a distraction. seonghwa can be distracting too, but at least he can take a hint and back down when you really need to focus. it’s been nice actually, just spending time in his presence. you were so nervous around him just a few weeks ago, and now you feel like you could trust him with just about anything.

today, you don’t get any personal study time, though. your music theory final is coming up and seonghwa wants you to get all the terms memorized before the review session in class tomorrow. he’s motivating you with a kiss for each right answer and the promise of him making dinner once you’re done. you’re currently cruising on five wrong in a row, and you’re getting frustrated. 

“c’mon y/n, you know this,” seonghwa encourages you, but you just whine in response. “we did this like four minutes ago, and i told you the answer so you could remember it.”

“yeah, well i obviously didn’t,” you snap, and seonghwa fakes being hurt. “sorry. can we skip this and come back to it?”

“sure,” he agrees quickly. “but first you need to write down the circle of fifths for me.” 

“i hate you.”

“hm, wrong answer,” he hums. “but kiss anyway. maybe that’ll keep you from getting so grumpy.”

“i am not grumpy,” you defend after kissing him gently. “i’m stressed.”

“you know what you need?”

“hm?”

“you need to go on another date,” he begins. “with me, obviously.”

“damn, i wanted to know if yunho was free,” you tease, and seonghwa doesn’t think it’s funny. “now who’s grumpy?”

“ignoring that,” he scoffs, but you can tell he’s trying not to smile. 

“when would we go? i’m really busy the next few days.”

“what about after class? we could both clean up and do something nice before we get some dinner?” seonghwa suggests. “why don’t we go to that art exhibit you told me about?”

“ugh,” you groan as you learn your head on his shoulder. “that sounds amazing, but we both said we’d be at study group tomorrow, remember? hongjoong practically begged me to be there, and i said i would ask you to come.”

“what about not letting them know we’re a thing?” he pouts. you don’t tell him about the youngest two that saw you all cuddled up, but instead you assure him that you inviting him to study group wouldn’t look unusual to the boys.

“plus, if we both cancel last minute, they’d know for sure we were up to something together,” you continue. “so yes, we need to go on another date, but just not tomorrow.”

“fine,” he mumbles. “now i am grumpy.”

“would something from the cafe make it better, my little boba ball?” you ask in a baby voice.

“ooh, actually, boba sounds good,” seonghwa smiles. “let’s go.”

-

the next day you get to the bookstore late because your professor gave a pop quiz at the end of class and you’ve been so busy studying music theory you forgot to study for anything else, so you needed all the time you could get. when you finally arrive, all of the boys are there, surprisingly. since you’ve never seen yunho, mingi and jongho here before you’re a little confused, but happy to see them nonetheless. 

as you walk up to the usual spot, you notice a coffee cup sitting in front of an empty chair, and you point to it as the boys greet you.

“is this for me?” you ask, placing your bag on the ground before grabbing the warm mug. “thank you, coffee angel.”

“you’re welcome, actual angel,” seonghwa replies, and you almost choke on your first sip. what is he doing?? you’re supposed to be sneaky sneaks and keep your relationship quiet, but here he is flirting with you in front of everyone!

except, that’s what he did before you started dating too, so it’s not out of the ordinary. in fact, no one pays any mind to it, so you’re left with a burnt tongue and blushy cheeks while seonghwa looks at you with a stare that only you would understand. you quickly shoot him a wink before you put your mug down and reach for your notes.

“um, hello? what are you guys doing?” you ask yeosang next to you, who’s rabidly tapping at his phone, just like everyone else. if they weren’t distracted they might have picked up on the vibes between you and seonghwa, but thankfully they’re the oblivious ones now.

“playing a game,” half of them respond, just as hongjoong says “writing lyrics” and jongho mumbles “texting my mom.”

“aren’t we supposed to study?” you ask. “or did you already learn everything in the world while i was gone?”

“well you’ve missed a lot of study sessions, y/n,” san begins. “so yes, we have learned everything. now we just come here to hang out.”

“so then why did you insist on me being here, joong?” you ask newly orange-haired hongjoong. it’s been a while since you’ve seen him, he must’ve dyed it recently. 

“we missed hanging out with you,” he says simply, eyes peeking up from his phone. your heart constricts at this, and you catch seonghwa’s eyes again. you might have to rethink the whole sneaking around thing if they really do miss you.

“yeah, we missed you AND we had to make sure you and seonghwa are still spending time together,” wooyoung adds, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“where have you been anyway?” yeosang asks. “you don’t have other friends.”

“yes i do,” you scoff.”

“give me names and numbers.”

“ignore him,” yunho tells you, and you nod.

“i always do. but i’ve been really stressed about finals, so i had to do some soul searching on my own to decide if i need to graduate or not.”

“seems fair,” mingi agrees. “i almost had to drop a class.”

“because he forgot he was even enrolled in it,” jongho clarifies, and you laugh.

“but seonghwa has been missing a lot lately too,” san starts. “i wonder what he’s been doing.”

“or who,” wooyoung snickers, and hongjoong reaches over mingi to slap him.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” seonghwa says with a shrug. “i’ve mostly been in my room, or at the pharmacy to get medicine.”

“oh, so you could’ve bought new paper towels for the dorm then, huh?” hongjoong asks, and as the two of them start to bicker, yeosang nudges your arm.

“i saw you two,” he says quietly. “at the mexican restaurant.”

“i know,” you whisper back. 

“so i know you’re dating.”

“are you gonna say anything?”

“hmmm, no,” he thinks. “but you have to buy my silence.”

“with coffee?” you offer, and yeosang smiles. he stands up and puts his phone away before speaking, looking directly at seonghwa.

“my best friend y/n is gonna buy me coffee, we’ll be back,” he says as he loops his arm around your shoulders. seonghwa watches as you walk away (and stares at your ass) but he’s mostly thinking about how he’s a little jealous right now. like, he knows you wouldn’t do anything, he trusts you, but he doesn’t want his friends thinking you have a thing for anyone but him. so while you’re gone, he talks.

“i haven’t been sick,” he admits. “i’ve been seeing y/n.”

“we all knew, dude,” hongjoong says casually, and everyone agrees.

“then why didn’t you say anything?!”

“because YOU weren’t saying anything,” jongho replies.

“yeah, we figured that we did enough trying to get the two of you together, so if you didn’t end up dating then that was your fault. we were just waiting on you to make a move,” san explains. 

“then why did you let us lie to you like that?”

“it was fun,” wooyoung shrugs. “by the way, did y/n let you sleep in the bed because of your hips, or because you wanted to cuddle?”

the red tint on seonghwa’s cheeks gives him away, and the boys start laughing and ooo’ing so loud he’s afraid you’ll hear it over by the coffee counter.

“ok, ok, just. keep this quiet for now,” he says. “y/n may still want this to be private.”

“but you just told us about it,��� yunho says. “why would you do that if you knew y/n wouldn’t want you to?”

“well,” seonghwa begins. “i need your help with a date.”

-

seemingly by an act of god, you have time this weekend to go on a date with seonghwa. little did you know, he’s the reason your plans suddenly freed up. san said you could critique him and wooyoung for their dance final another day, hongjoong said he would send you his music theory notes from the review and save you hours of studying and then yeosang found the exact spanish book you needed to finish your performance final ahead of time. it was the perfect circumstances, orchestrated by your perfect boy and his perfect-adjacent friends, who all agreed to help him with this (hopefully) perfect date. 

it starts with seonghwa picking you up from your apartment, coffee in hand. 

“you’re the man of my dreams, you know that?” you say in passing as you grab the warm to-go cup. even if you were only saying it lightly, it made seonghwa’s heart soar. you notice he hasn’t said anything to you, so you meet his eyes to find them full of stars like always, but this time there’s something scheme-y in there. he’s up to something.

“are you ready for the best date of your life?” he asks with a smile that puts the stars in his eyes to shame.

“yes, i think,” you respond, grabbing your keys and locking your door. “but i don’t know what we’re doing.”

“and it will stay that way until we get there,” seonghwa says firmly as he laces his hand into yours. you squeeze his hand and sigh.

“i guess i just have to trust you then.”

“but that won’t be hard right?”

“wait, didn’t you say something earlier about going to that art exhibit? is that it?” you question, even though you know he won’t budge. seonghwa just shakes his head no and punches the button for the elevator. a moment of silence passes before you guess again. “a movie? you rented out a movie theater, like you said you wanted to?”

“i tried, but it was expensive,” he admits and you have to laugh. “funds are tight right now.”

“i watched you buy a couple hundred dollars worth of legos the other day babe. maybe that’s why the date fund is lacking.”

“you’re not coming between me and my collectables, y/n,” seonghwa scolds. the elevator pings to open to the parking garage under your building, and you’re confused for a moment before he explains. “i want this to be a nice date, so yunho let me borrow his car. it would be no fun if we show up all sweaty because we were walking.”

yunho’s car, which is actually pretty nice thanks to all the tips he gets from flirting with clientele, is parked by the elevator. seonghwa leads you to your door and opens it for you, revealing a basket of flowers and candies in the seat. you coo as you pick it up, and seonghwa looks on proudly. you lean over to give him a kiss, and you whisper your thanks as you pull away.

“that was mingi’s idea,” seonghwa tells you, smiling brightly “i got all your favorites.”

“i see that.”

“but look around the flowers,” he guides you. “there’s something else.”

you hold the basket up to eye level, noticing the silver sparkle around the stems of the flowers. is it glitter? you tug at a flower and realize it’s a chain, and attached is a hand drawn star charm to match the tattoo on the back of seonghwa’s neck. 

“seonghwa, this is beautiful,” you say breathlessly. “we’re gonna match! that’s so cute. who’s idea was this?”

“would you believe me if i said it was mine?”

“no.”

“that’s what jongho said too,” seonghwa laughs. “it was his idea.”

“tell him thank you,” you say as you play with the charm. “mingi and yunho too. it’s a good date so far.”

“oh baby, it hasn’t officially started yet.”

-

in the car, seonghwa plays a mix of songs that he really likes, and he’s mixed in some of your favorites too. he has to keep convincing you that the songs aren’t clues, because you ask every time a new song plays.

“so are the songs just distractions?” you ask, finally giving up on getting any information out of him. 

“why do you ask that?” he smirks as he turns down a familiar road.

“because i can tell you just took the long way to the record store,” you explain. “are you stalling?”

“me, what? why?” his response does nothing to manage your suspicions, and suddenly you remember how your friends have helped with the date so far. are they all in on this? you need answers.

“seonghwa, i swear to god, if san or wooyoung jumps out to surprise me wherever we’re going-”

“that won’t happen,” seonghwa laughs while he parks the car. “we’re here anyway, and i promise this is the last surprise of the night.”

“the record store?” you question, looking up at the shop you’ve been to countless times to shop and to bother hongjoong while he works. 

“yeah, you said there was a new album out you wanted to get, right?”

“yeah,” you blush. “but i just said that in passing, i didn’t expect you to remember.”

“y/n, i want to know everything about you,” seonghwa says seriously. “so of course i remembered. wait, don’t get out yet. i’ll open the door for you.”

as seonghwa helps you out of the car, you quiz him on the other things you’ve said around him that you didn’t think he remembered. sadly, he does remember you saying your favorite disney movie is ratatouille and you’ve always wanted to try the mushroom/cheese concoction remy makes in the first scene.

“that’s a little embarrassing,” you sigh as you reach for the door. you’re going to complain some more about how seonghwa doesn’t need to remember everything about you, but the sight in front of you makes you stop mid-breath.

the record store has been decorated from floor to ceiling in fairy lights, and there’s more flowers all over the place. as you look around, you notice the flowers are tucked in the shelves next to your favorite artists. next to the door is the album you were talking about, and a little further down you see your favorite album of all time with a few extra flowers next to it. you’re still taking everything in when you notice hongjoong behind the counter.

“did you help him with this?” you ask breathlessly, and hongjoong nods. 

“yeah, but the flowers next to the albums was my idea,” hongjoong explains. “we’re running a new special called “y’n’s favorites” so everything that’s marked with a flower is yours, if you want it. everything is on the house.” 

“i...i don’t know what to say,” you start. you turn to seonghwa and there are those starry eyes that you love to see. you reach out to cup his face and smile. “thank you. this is...perfect.”

“it’s even more perfect now that i’m here!” wooyoung shouts from the front door of the shop, followed by san and yeosang. you look at seonghwa and all he does is laugh.

“what? at least he didn’t jump out and scare you,” seonghwa teases.

“oh, i would never,” wooyoung nods with a half-serious look on his face. “but i definitely wouldn’t do that when i have your dinner in my hands, i can’t let all this hard work spill.”

“especially not on my clean floor,” hongjoong warns. 

“you made dinner for us?” you ask wooyoung, but you’re looking at seonghwa, who simply shrugs.

“yep, i made one of your favorites and then threw in a couple recipes i thought you’d both like,” wooyoung says as he and the two other boys place food down on the counter by the register.

“and what did you two help with?” you ask san and yeosang.

“who do you think made this place so beautiful?” yeosang asks incredulously.

“yeosang did the lights and i bought all the flowers,” san explains with a smile that makes his eyes turn into happy half moons. “you’d be surprised how many places i had to go to get all your favorites.”

“i really don’t know what to say,” you whisper in disbelief. “i can’t believe you all did this for me.”

“it was all seonghwa’s idea,” san tells you. “we did it for both of you.”

“yeah, we’re just his little minions,” yeosang jokes, and wooyoung giggles. 

“you tell me how that food tastes, got it?” he asks as he backs out of the store. “don’t say anything mean though. i only accept compliments.”

“wooyoung,” seonghwa smiles tightly. “please leave.”

wooyoung holds the door open for san and yeosang as he gives seonghwa a thumbs up. san waves goodbye sweetly and yeosang gives you a knowing smile before the door closes behind them.

“well, i think that’s my cue to go,” hongjoong says, handing the keys to seonghwa. “don’t make a mess. if i get fired, i’m selling all the stuff i stole from you when you were sneaking around with y/n and not telling us about it.”

“i’ll keep him under control,” you assure hongjoong, who nods as heads to the door. you don’t see him leave because seonghwa has stepped in front of you, and he places his hands on your waist to pull you closer.

“so,” he begins.

“so.”

“what do you want to listen to while we eat?” he asks, pulling you by the waist over to a row of records. you stand there quietly, looking over the albums hongjoong pulled to the front for you, and you just can’t believe how much work went into this date. you can’t believe how sweet it is that each of your friends helped, and you put your hand on seonghwa’s and give it a squeeze.

“hwa,” you whisper. he hums in response, but you place your hand on his cheek and guide his gaze to yours.

“thank you,” you tell him. “thank you for this.”

he smiles at you with a look in his eyes that can’t be anything else but love, and you smile back with that much love, if not more, in your own face. you use the hand on seonghwa’s chin to guide his lips to yours, and you lose yourself in the kiss, in seonghwa, for who knows how long.

“mm, y/n,” he mumbles against your lips before detaching. “the food will get cold.”

“you’re right,” you sigh. “but we didn’t pick any music.”

“how about this?” he asks, pulling an album out from the top shelf. you smile at the cover, knowing exactly what song seonghwa wants you to hear. 

“perfect,” you agree. “i’ll put it on while you get the food?”

and that’s how you end up eating the perfect meal, on your perfect date, with all of your favorite things around you, sitting right next to your perfect boy.

[cow-smells]

Owe you one: Demetri x Reader

Summary: Y/n is on a mission to get that good geek D OR, Demetri tutors the reader. Reader sees it fit to pay him back.

A/n: Definitely not my finest piece of work but I had to let it out of me (: its my first smut. can you tell?

also please don’t repost this anywhere  :)

Words: 1678

Warnings: smut

Standing in the crowded hallway, Y/n scanned the crowd of students until her eyes set on her target.

    “Demetri!!!!”

Demetri was visibly startled, not used to having his name screamed out like that, surely not by a girl – most definitely not by Y/n. Y/n was one of the most popular girls in school and having her call for him, so publicly no less, made Demetri's cheeks flush.

They had been hanging out almost daily lately after a teacher suggested Y/n ask Demetri to tutor her in algebra, a subject she hated until the memory of it started tying itself with the lanky black haired boy.

At first they would study in the library but after quickly becoming friendly, the study sessions moved to either ones house. As time progressed Y/n began finding that she would find excuses in the guise of studying to seek Demetri out during the day, just to talk to him about anything at all.

Although she did use their study sessions to... well, study, Y/n couldn't help when her mind would wander elsewhere occasionally. When they'd both be perched on her bed, house empty but them, nothing but books between them... Y/n would lay a hand on Demetri's thigh, or sit a bit closer than necessary, waiting for Demetri to pick up on the hint; he never did.

    It was time to take matters in to hands.

    “Hey!” Y/n called as she caught up to Demetri. “Look!”

Y/n held up her latest algebra test, showing off a big B+ circled in red.

Demetri's eyes widened in surprise, his smile genuine. “That's amazing! I told you you'll do great!” he lay a shy hand on Y/n's bicep. It wasn't enough. Unashamed, Y/n held up her arms for a hug he couldn't deny.

Standing on her tippy toes, she held Demetri tight to her for a moment. “Seriously, thank you.”

She could swear it wasn't her imagination when Demetri was reluctant to let go.

Y/n slid her arms from around his neck to hold his shoulders. “Are you free today?”

Demetri thought; he was supposed to help Sam and Mr LaRusso fix up some stuff at the dojo but seeing as it was Y/n asking, looking up at him with her big e/c eyes and perfectly painted lips, he figured he could clear his schedule. “Uh, yeah.”

“Great. Could I come over? I wanna go over my mistakes, if that's okay with you.”

Of course it was okay. Demetri was crushingly disappointed once Y/n took the test and stopped meeting him every day, any excuse to spend time with her was more than welcome.

    Even if he was still too cowardly to make a move.

    “Yeah, sure. My parents should be working late today so, come by any time.”

“Okay,” Y/n bit her lip and brushed her hands off his shoulders. “I'll see you in a bit.”

Hours later, Y/n found herself in Demetri's painfully on-brand room. Closing the door after her she clicked the door to lock, even though it was just them in the meantime. She unhooked her bag from her shoulder, leaving it by the door.

Looking from the bag to her, Demetri asked, “What did you get wrong, anyway?”

“Oh, about that,” Y/n replied bashfully, slowly making her way closer to the boy, her hips swaying purposefully with each step. “I don't really care about the mistakes. I mean, sure, it's important and all, but...” Y/n reached Demetri, standing toe to toe with him. She reached her hand to grab the hem of his t-shirt, watching her fingers as she played with it – Demetri watching her. “I just wanted to get you alone. I never actually got to repay the favour, or say thank you.”

Suddenly looking up, Demetri found the girls face achingly close to his. If only he would lean down and close the gap... his mouth went dry.

“So,” Y/n eyes met Demetri's. Getting on to her toes, hands propping herself up on his abdomen, Demetri felt her breath on his lips as she next spoke. “Thank you.” With that, she closed the gap.

    Demetri felt fireworks go off within him. The one girl he had been pining over for so long was finally his. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer.

Y/n let her hands climb around his neck, one holding on to his hair as she kissed him deeper. Demetri briefly wondered if this might really just be her way of saying thank you, as unconventional as it may be – but once he felt Y/n's soft tongue searching for his, he decided to take what she was willing to give.

Demetri bent down in attempt to somehow be even closer, relieving Y/n from her position on her tip toes. He didn't even notice than his dominance on her pushed her back a couple of steps until her knees hit the bed, toppling her over with him above her.

    This was a very new situation for Demetri.

He had only just experienced his first kiss and here he was already, holding himself over the girl of his dreams. Looking down at Y/n's perfect smile and rosy cheeks (notably avoiding creating eye contact with her cleavage), every cell in Demetri's body urged him to surge forward, to kiss, to touch – so he rightened himself back up, knees still caging hers between his.

    “I'm sorry,” he apologized, despite it being nearly the last thing he wanted to do – the real last thing he wanted to do being pressure Y/n in to something.

He certainly didn't expect it when Y/n took back the reins and nudged Demetri with her knee to a sitting position on the bed, hooking the same knee around him until she was straddling him.

Demetri looked at Y/n from where she sat comfortably on his lap up to her eyes, his lips parted with questions he couldn't word; his own eyes hungry.

“Don't be.” Y/n leaned forward – Demetri leaned in instinctively in hopes to meet her lips, only to be left hanging when Y/n swayed her attentions to the skin under his ear, kissing and biting her way down the curve of his neck. Demetri closed his eyes, his attention completely devoted to the feeling of her lips on his skin, a feeling he had fantasized over for so long.

Fingers threaded between the bed sheets, Demetri couldn't contain his satisfied groan when she bit at just the right spot – and then again when she scooted her hips closer to his, forcing him to notice what she had.

Sudden panic rushing through him, Demetri lay his hands on Y/n thighs as though to push her back – she chose to stay put. “Shit, I'm sorry.” Demetri turned an unbelievable shade of red, causing the girl to laugh. If it were possible, he might have turned even brighter. He searched her eyes for disapproval, but found no such thing.

Looking down at the provocation that bothered Demetri so, Y/n met his eyes again. “Don't worry about it.” she captured Demetri's lips one more time, rocking her hips before they parted. Demetri gasped. “Besides,” she returned to her assault on his neck where red bruises were already forming. Her hands found his belt, undoing it. “I still owe you one.”

    It was with great effort that Demetri managed to ask “Y/n, what are you -” before her fingers were wrapped around him, rendering him silent – with the exception of a breath taken gasp.

Demetri could feel Y/n's lips contort to a smile against his skin as she began working him, his head tilted back in euphoria.

He bit his lip in attempt to drown out a moan without success. One arm came to wrap around the girl, holding her tightly in place. Demetri was pulled out of his content state when she slipped out of his grasp.

Y/n sat on the floor between his knees. Demetri's heart dropped, afraid he might have indulged himself too much, scared her away or maybe had done something wrong. “Y/n, what-”

Relief washed over the boy once her hand was once again wrapped around him, this time accompanied by her tongue, licking base to tip.

Demetri could feel every nerve in his body set on fire, never having felt anything remotely like this before.

It took every good ounce in him to say what he said next.

    “Stop.”

Clearly caught unprepared, Y/n let go of her touch on him (Demetri had to hold in his objection). Her brows furrowed – she was worried. “What's wrong?”

It felt ridiculous, talking like this in such an exposed state when all he wanted to do was go on, but it needed to be done. “Y/n, you know you don't actually have to do this, right?”

Noticing the drop in his voice, Y/n smiled. “I know.”

    “Like, seriously. You don't owe me anything.”

“I know,” Y/n smiled mischievously. “It's just an excuse to do this.”

There was no holding back the moan the escaped Demetri's lips when she next took him in her mouth.

Demetri wasn't sure what to do with himself. He had felt so good he wasn't sure how to contain it all; his hands were gripping the sheets, his head went from tilted back in extasy to forward, watching Y/n.

Releasing one hand of its grasp, Demetri brushed back some of Y/n's hair, creating eye contact.

    “I need to know this isn't just a thank-you.”

Y/n stopped, righting herself. “It isn't. Think of this as an... I'm in love with you.”

“I'm in love with you too.” Demetri replied eagerly, his heart pounding. He groaned as Y/n returned to her work on him. “Have been, since, like... fourth grade.”

Soon enough, Demetri's moans and groans grew in volume and frequency, finally finding his release.

Y/n climbed back on to Demetri's lap, kissing him again. Demetri smiled, resting his forehead against hers. “I think I owe you one now.”

[ynscrazylife]

I was thinking maybe a oneshot where B!D gets poisoned by Cadmus?

Sisterly Instincts 

Summary: Y/N is Kryptonian who landed on Earth a few years after Kara. When CADMUS kidnaps her, they inject her with a poison made out of their version of Kryptonite, which is very harmful to her.

Authors Note: Thank you for requesting!

Request to be on a Taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

DCEU Masterlist | Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/mundodeseriess

Image ID: Alex and Kara sitting together. Alex has her eyes closed, head on Kara’s shoulder, arm wrapped around her, and is looking upset. Kara is wearing her glasses and is looking down, crying. End ID. 

“Alex, have you heard from Y/N yet today?” Kara asked as she entered the DEO, a slight frown on her face still evident from the morning. 

Alex shook her head no. “Not since last night, why?” She asked, coming down the stairs and joining her sister in her walk. 

Kara shrugged it off. “She just didn’t send me her usual good morning text . . . She’s probably fine, right?” The blonde answered, now feeling silly as she voiced the worry that had been slowly eating at her. 

Alex’s warm chuckle calmed her almost instantly. “Yeah, it’s nothing. We’ll see her soon as she’s coming into the DEO anyway,” she reasoned, assuming their younger sister had just overslept. 

They reached the main room where J’onn and the other DEO agents sat at their desks and immediately the Danvers’ sisters got to work. 

However, when it was ten minutes past the time Y/N was supposed to arrive, Alex decided to give her a call, biting her lip. She discreetly pressed her phone to her ear, turning away so she wouldn’t cause her sister unnecessary worry. 

It ringed. 

And ringed. 

And ringed. 

“Hey! You’ve reached Y/N Danvers. Sorry I couldn’t answer! Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you.” Alex cursed quietly when it rang so long it went to voicemail and huffed to clear her mind and steady herself.

“Hey, Y/N. It’s Alex. I’m sure you just overslept or are rushing to work,” she said, pausing to chuckle when the image of her younger sister running around the city popped into her mind, “Just give me a call when you get this. Love you, bye!” 

Despite the small worry entering the pit of her stomach, Alex reminded herself that Y/N being late and missing a phone wasn’t too uncommon, and she resumed her work. 

"Alex?” Kara said, and Alex looked up from her computer to see her sister gesturing at the clock with a nod. The brunette looked over, and felt that pit sink lower when she saw that 20 minutes had passed. Getting no message from Y/N, Alex and Kara shared a look, coming to a silent decision. 

“We're gonna go by Y/N’s apartment and check on her,” Alex informed J’onn as she stood up from her chair and grabbed her coat. She couldn't keep herself from remembering that Y/N should be here right now, she didn't live far away. 

Kara nodded, following her older sister, and the two women left the DEO, neither of them discussing their worries in fear of distressing the other one. Great minds do think alike, though, and that’s why they both internally came to the conclusion that if nothing was wrong and they found Y/N sleeping late, they were gonna be pissed (however they hoped that was what they found instead of the scary alternatives brewing and stirring in their minds). 

When they reached Y/N’s apartment, Kara knocked on the door. They waited almost a minute and when the door didn't open and they didn’t hear anything, Alex fished the key Y/N had given to her out of her pocket and unlocked the door. 

Stepping inside, the women were prepared to search the house like they were on a mission, when a paper on the floor, having been slipped under the door, caught their attention. Sharing a look, Kara grabbed the paper and unfolded it. It read: 

“Hello, Supergirl, 

I won’t lie. I don’t know your ‘secret identity’. However, I was able to find out Y/S/N’s, so it’s only a matter of time before I find yours, too. Come to these coordinates: [pretend there’s random coordinates] by 12:00 alone and allow us to experiment and test on you. If you fail to do that, I won’t give Y/N the cure to the Kryptonite poison that’s in her system and I’ll reveal her identity to the world. 

-- CADMUS.” 

For a couple moments, Kara and Alex stood, glued to the spot. Thoughts and emotions washed over their bodies: concern for their sister, anger at CADMUS, and an utter helplessness since they didn’t know what to do. 

It was a little past 10:00 now and when the two got back to the DEO, they made a plan with J’onn. He’d disguise himself as Kara and would do as the letter said and they’d have DEO agents - including Alex and Kara - stationed around the building with cloaking devices, which would make them invisible to CADMUS and their tech. Winn would hack into CADMUS’ tech and after Y/N was given the cure, the DEO agents would act.

At 10:30, the DEO agents were stationed around the base, invisible, and J’onn had walked into the base itself, disguised as Kara. He noticed the Kryptonite around the room, there to weaken Kara, so he put on an act: pretending that it was hurting him. He barley refrained from rushing over to Y/N when he saw the woman who was like a daughter to him siting on a chair, weak and only half-conscious, sweat shining on her face with Lillian Luthor standing beside her. 

“Good, you came,” Lillian said with a sadistic smile. 

“Yes. Now give Y/S/N the cure,” J’onn said, putting on his best Supergirl face. 

The corners of Lillian’s mouth turned into a smirk and she walked over to another chair a few feet away, which had Kryptonite restraints. “Sit,” she said calmly, although the way she stood, her hands delicately placed on the chair, brought power to the lonely word. 

J’onn complied, frowning as he walked over to the chair and sat down, letting Lillian put the restraints on his wrists and ankles that she thought would weaken him. For extra effect, J’onn sucked in a breath and faked pain. 

Lillian smugly turned around and walked back to Y/N, who didn’t seem to realize what was going on. The older woman gestured to one of her minions and they promptly injected a serum into Y/N’s neck, making the youngest Danvers’ gasp just the slightest before her eyes fluttered close. 

“The antidote is taking its affect in her system,” Lillian informed J’onn before turning back to her minion. “Take the girl outside. She can find her way back.” 

The man nodded and picked Y/N up, slinging her over his shoulder and walked out. The second J’onn heard a smash and knew that his team had acted, he gave Lillian no time to be on alert before he ripped off the restraints and knocked all of the CADMUS agents out. 

. . .  . . .  . . . 

Alex and Kara had been standing outside, listening to Lillian and J’onn’s interaction through their earpieces. The women were both racked with worry over their little sister and when they saw the man carrying her, it took everything in them both to wait until he carelessly dropped her on the floor. When he did, Kara revealed herself and knocking him unconscious into a wall. Alex then revealed herself as well, hearing J’onn fighting, and ran to Y/N while the rest of the DEO agents went inside to erase CADMUS’ memory of Y/N’s identity and to make arrests.

“Y/N, Y/N! Come on, wake up,” Alex said, slightly panicked as she gently rolled Y/N from where she was laying on her side to be on her back. Kara, after making sure the guy was unconscious, sped over. 

Kara knitted her brown together and drew her lips into a line, silently gathering her sister into her arms. Alex glanced up at her, tears in her eyes, for she knew Kara was only silent when she was very worried. 

“I’ll meet you back at the DEO,” Kara said quietly, her tone almost emotionless, before lifting off and flying into the air. Alex swallowed and took a breath, getting to her feet.

. . .  . . .  . . .

As she flew through the air, Kara battled to keep distracting thoughts about the clouds and the breeze away, as she knew she had to focus on her unconscious sister. Y/N was the priority. Once she landed at the DEO, she immediately headed to the med bay, where doctors took over and Kara informed him that Y/N had supposedly been given the antidote. 

After almost ten minutes of Kara pacing just outside the door and Winn doing his best to comfort her, the doctors informed them that the antidote was indeed in Y/N’s system and it was fighting off the poison. They didn’t know when she would wake up but when she did, she would need to rest a lot as she’d be weak. They were also unsure if CADMUS had done anything else to her, so she’d need to stay at the DEO overnight if she didn’t wake up soon. 

The doctors allowed Kara to see her so the blonde sat by her sister’s side, holding her hand until Alex burst in, looking out-of-breath. 

“How is she?” Alex asked, sitting on Y/N’s other side and taking her free hand. 

Kara told her what the doctors said and they collectively let out a breath, relieved that she was going to be alright. They stayed with Y/N for another hour, silent except for the occasional comment, when Y/N started blinking her eyes open. 

The agent and the superhero both sat up, patiently waiting for Y/N to wake up and adjust herself.

“Alex? Kara?” Y/N croaked out, looking at her sisters in a haze of confusion. 

Both women smiled and let out happy tears, helping her to sit up before wrapping their arms around her. Y/N smiled, leaning her head against Kara’s neck. 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Alex whispered. 

“It’ll never happen again,” Kara promised. 

Y/N nodded. She didn’t say anything in response, finding herself too tired after the day’s events. Kara and Alex stayed until she fell asleep and then they reluctantly left her under the watchful eye of Winn, since they needed to debrief with J’onn and prepare for when Y/N would come home. 

Permanent Taglist: @natasharomanoffismywife @hehehehannahthings @paulawand @blackbat2020 @sybil-moon-is-a-mess @cerberus-spectre @marrymemcgrath @celestialbarnes

DCEU Taglist: @stephanieromanoff @basiclesbianbitch @extraordinary-fangrl @hi-i-1 @mmmmokdok @harrypottercumslut

[ibelongtowrath]

Kitten - Satan x Reader

Warnings // 18+/NSFW, female reader, kitten play (cat ears, collar, tail), daddy kink, praise in the form of “good girl,” brat taming, spanking, vaginal sex Word Count: ~1.6k

Happy Day 9 of Obey MEmber, Satan Day! As we all know, I’m hot for Satan, so I had to write something for him for his dedicated day. Again, horny writing brain go brrr, that’s basically been the inspiration behind most of my stories lately. And again I suck at thinking of titles.

Late on the eve of a weekend night after a long, grueling week of exams, Satan reaches towards his nightstand to grab the silken emerald rope draped across the ancient wood. He places it onto the bed, still unsure of whether he’ll be using it tonight. A slight breeze sneaks in through the small crack in his window, the warm, Devildom night air caressing your face in a gentle tendril as the branches of the trees wave outside, almost knowingly, as if watching and waving in anticipation.

The demon runs his nails down the small of your back, a small shiver traveling up your spine with the motion. Grinning, he digs into your soft, delicate skin just a bit harder, leaving light scratches in their wake. He pulls you to him, pressing his chest against your back, leaning in to nip at the place where your neck and your shoulder meet, trailing a hand down your arm.

“Such a good girl you are for me, aren’t you, my sweet kitten?” Satan purrs into your ear, letting his warm breath ticklish.

You swallow, thighs pressed together. The collar adorning your neck bobs with the movement, complete with a silver bell. A soft jingle sounds as it moves, and Satan dips a finger just beneath the tight leather band, gently tugging you closer to him, until the space between your bodies is barely noticeable. Playfully, he reaches up to your hair, where your soft, fur-covered cat ears lay, matching perfectly with the color of your hair. He runs his fingers over them with another grin, admiring how natural they look on you, chuckling softly as you instinctively flick them cutely a few times at his touch.

“The spell worked perfectly,” Satan remarks. “I was able to give you only select feline qualities while keeping the rest of your body in its delectably human form. Don’t you love it, kitten?”

“I do,” you nod with a smile. This is fun.

“You do…?”

“I do… Daddy.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Kissing the top of your head, Satan strokes the ears one final time before stepping back, studying your backside.

“While I do enjoy these,” he continues, “I believe this is my favorite part.”

Satan runs a hand over the ample curve of your behind, where a fluffy cat tail lay, just above your tailbone.

“Yes, I believe I’ll have quite a bit of fun with this,” the demon says with a wolfish grin. “The spell is set to wear off in 24 hours, but I admit, the thought of keeping you this way forever is far too tempting to ignore, hm?”

“I do like the look,” you tell him, teasing him with your tail. 

He chuckles and begins massaging the base of it, savoring your soft moan as he caresses the new, albeit temporary, appendage. Pressing his free hand to the small of your back, he urges you to bend over the bed. You comply, resting your arms on the mattress and laying your head atop them.

“Open yourself to me, my sweet kitten,” he commands.

Nodding in agreement, your back arches. Gently, he pushes a knee between your thighs to part them with a deep, guttural growl, the sound rumbling from deep within his chest.

“Good girl.”

The sight of you spread before him ignites a primal urge within. Despite your feline features, Satan is the one that studies you like a predator ready to pounce on its prey, eager to sink his teeth into your delectable flesh to satiate the hunger within. Your arousal coats your wet heat, practically dripping onto the wooden floors, shining in the low candlelit haze of his hastily-cleaned bedroom, books askew. Satan runs his fingers in a slow motion between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your core. Groaning at the feel of your abundant wet excitement, he leans over your pliant body, cock pressing against your back as he bites your shoulder, leaving a set of angry red marks behind that will surely bruise later.

“You’re so wet, kitten,” Satan growls, biting you once more. “You’re already coating my fingers. Does being my little plaything turn you on? Make you so excited to be my mindless little toy and purr for me as I wreck that pretty little pussy of yours that you can’t help but gush between your legs at the mere thought?”

His thumb circles your clit, savoring the sinfully sweet melody of your lewd moans. You bite your lip, pushing back against him, desperate to feel his cock drag between your walls, stretching your core to its limit. Chuckling darkly against the back of your neck, he hooks two fingers beneath your collar, pulling on it ever so slightly as you gasp.

“Ah, it seems as though my kitten is in heat, hm?” Satan remarks, smirking against your skin. “So hungry for my cock, ready to be filled and bred like a proper little cumslut.”

He slides two fingers into your heat, curling and pumping them skillfully. Pulling his hand from your collar, he moves it to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he watches his fingers disappear into your wet, quivering pussy, practically throbbing with need.

“Now… I want you on the bed on all fours, arching your back so sweetly for me, just like this. Am I understood, kitten?” Satan asks, adding another small nibble for emphasis.

A wicked plan formulates at the forefront of your mind, and you can’t help but grin, knowing you may full well regret this very, very soon. You have not a care in the world at this moment, though, deciding to test the waters to see the Avatar of Wrath’s reaction to your open defiance. Raising your eyebrows at the demon behind you, your lips part to utter a single word.

“No.”

Satan pauses his ministrations, his brow furrowed in questioning.

“I don’t believe I stuttered, kitten,” he says slowly. His fingers move back to your collar, slipping underneath. “On the bed. Now.”

“Make me,” comes your reply, cool and confident, grinning wickedly.

Is it unwise to challenge the Avatar of Wrath? Probably. 

Is it fun? Most definitely.

A loud growl tears from Satan’s throat through clenched teeth, the sound quickly turning into an angered snarl as he tugs you forward by the collar as you let out a surprised yelp, forcing you into a standing position. He bites into your neck, harder this time, nearly breaking the skin before his hands move to your waist, picking you up and placing you onto his bed with force.

“My kitten appears to be very feisty tonight,” Satan snarls, reaching for the silken tie and unraveling it swiftly. “Perhaps she is in need of a firm reminder of exactly who is in charge here. Me.”

Grabbing your wrists roughly, the soft, cool fabric kisses your skin as the demon makes quick work of binding your arms together, laying them flat against your back. He grins at his handiwork before placing his hand onto your back and pushing down, effectively forcing it to arch high into the air, your cheek to the mattress. Your head turns to the side, studying his handsome face and the way he smirks, completely smug.

“Are you going to behave now, kitten, and be a good girl for Daddy?” Satan asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Hmm… maybe,” you retort, wondering what he will decide to do with you next.

Another growl escapes Satan as he, without warning, lifts an arm into the air; the next second, your jaw clenches, letting out a sharp hiss of pain as a hand smacks hard against the delicately soft skin of your ass cheek. He rubs the sore spot for a few moments before giving you another smack, relishing your cries as the residual cracking noise cuts through the otherwise still silence of his chambers.

“That’s not the answer I wanted to hear, kitten,” he says, his voice now in a low timbre, almost sultrily, but laced with frustration and annoyance at your continued disobedience.

Deciding to tease you further, Satan moves behind you, positioning his cock between your legs. He suppresses the urge to fuck into you right then and there, your wetness coating his length, reigniting that primal desire to have his way with you and fill you with his seed. You want it, too, in the way that your hips instinctively move to push back against him, to coax him inside you, throbbing with need.

“Do you think I’m going to reward you for your bratty behavior, MC?” Satan chuckles, teasing his cock at your entrance. “Only good little girls get rewarded. Are you going to behave for me now, or do I need to fuck this attitude out of you?”

You whimper in response, then attempt to cover your mouth with a hand. Tugging at the restraints, you remember that you have no use of your arms, opting instead to shake your head. Satisfied with your reaction, he laughs once more, placing another firm smack on your ass.

“I suppose I will have to simply fuck you into submission,” Satan purrs. “It seems my pretty little kitten has forgotten who her pleasure belongs to. Who it is that makes her body bend to their will, whose name falls helplessly from her lips in screams of pleasure every time she cums.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping the skin tightly, leaving small bruises in the indentations of his fingers.

“Face in the sheets, kitten,” he instructs, voice laden with silk, “or my hips will do it for you.”

Sliding his cock into your tight, wet heat, Satan’s hips begin snapping into you mercilessly, barely gives you time to react. Your face presses into the mattress, stifling your loud, gasping, breathy moans of pleasure.

“Good girls get to feel good. Good girls get to cum,” he rasps. He groans at the sensation, the feel of you so familiarly delicious, head tipping back in pleasure for a few brief moments. Reaching for your tail, he yanks on it lightly before pressing his chest to your back to growl into your ear.

“Purr for me, my sexy little kitten, and show me that you can be a good girl.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

It may be past midnight but a chapter is being uploaded so it’s not awful. I thought to make this longer but I promised something by Sunday and I’ll probably do that later when sickness decides to give me a god damn break. Anywho, no, this creature of mine is not dead quite yet, so yay to that. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than this one. As always, precious chapters are at the end.

Chapter 23

You have had entirely too much soup since you have been here.

Your desire to eat soup is one that you do not understand. Apparently, it aligns with what you should be eating, according to what you can find on the subject in various medical journals. Nothing heavy until your body gets used to food again; all the broth you drank the next day was so diluted you barely tasted the chicken. You have promoted yourself to proper chicken soup with rice recently— good rice, since you have time. It is the kind you used to eat back home. When you cooked it back in your apartment— no need to hide out underground if nobody would logically want to camp outside— you started crying from the smell, you think. You must have because you had wiped your eyes with tomato and lemon juice on your fingers and had rushed to a tap to clear the angry liquid out. You had then cried at the tap at the sight of yourself; you have cried quite a bit since going back to your apartment.

You have chosen to believe that that had more to do with starvation than stress.

You are baffled, frankly, that you have yet to get sick of the stuff after eating it for so long. You stare at the liquid in its metal container, fingers hovering over your keyboard, pondering this. You suppose anything and everything tastes good to you. Maybe this is when you should try to acclimate yourself to foods you have previously hated. Maybe you will like them if you just eat a lot of them now. Maybe something good can come from this whole thing. Maybe.

You briefly feel your soul leave your body at a tap on your shoulder. “How is it?”

“Fine.” You try to slow your breathing. “It’s good. It’s soup,” you smile, “so it’s hardly anything, really.”

Donnie nods, shakes his head. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Stupid question. May I see your hand?”

You glance down at it on instinct. The scars seem almost to glare at you, and you shrink away from them, ever the coward. “Why?”

“I’m making something.” He shows a lump of what looks like rags. “I don’t know what size your hand is, though.”

You close your device, offering the appendage to him. “What will it do?”

“The device?” He pulls up a stool and sets a tin of needles on the counter. “In theory, a lot of things. Could you spread your fingers?”

You do. “Such as?”

He slips the rag carefully over your hand— it looks like a glove. “Well,” he picks up one of the needles carefully, “a taser, for one.”

“You’re putting a taser in a glove?”

He smiles shyly. “I’d sure like to.”

Your eyes shift to focus on a diagram hanging from the wall. “Who would it shock?”

“So long as you don’t shower with it or anything? Presumably anyone you can wrap your hands around.” Carefully, he starts to tighten the material. “Based on the prototype I made, it shouldn’t hurt the user.”

“Shouldn’t?”

He slides one of the needles into the fabric, keeping it in place. “Under the assumption that your skin and my skin are equally good conductors, then the worst you’ll feel is a static shock.”

“Under the assumption.”

“I’d rather not test how conductive your skin is.” He handles your hand as if it too is prone to breaking. “How’s your soup?”

You smile weakly. “I’ve had a couple cups so far. Better without all the water.

“I’d hope so.”

You look down at your hand. “You don’t have to be so careful, you know.”

“I know.” He does not speed up. “I just want it to fit right.”

You do not push it. You go back to staring at the diagram. “What’s on the agenda after this?” You fiddle with a piece of your shirt with your free hand. “Patrol, right? Where?”

“TCRI.” You feel him glance up at you, back at your hand. “What’s left, anyway.”

You have no idea where he got a diagram of the human body. You are fairly sure those cost quite a bit of money. “Are they really trying to rebuild it?”

“Seems so.” He turns your hand over. “No idea why, though. Based on what we saw it looks like they’re trying to open a wormhole, so based on my very limited knowledge of all that noise they may be trying to rip open a hole in space-time there because they’ve tried there before.”

“Like picking at a scab?”

He considers the comparison. “Sort of? More like trying to make a hole in a piece of fabric, if I’m understanding right.”

“But they already have open points of entry, don’t they?”

“They do.” He looked up at you. “That’s why we’re checking it out; there’s gotta be something there.”

You nod. “And some stuff might’ve survived the explosion.”

“Exactly. Is that too tight?”

“Nope.” You wiggle your fingers experimentally. “Totally fine.”

“That’s good.” He pulls it off. “Other hand?”

You hold it out to him. “How’d you sleep? I had to leave before I could ask.”

He pauses. “Fine.” It fits the same on both hands. “You?”

“Fine.” You gingerly pull your folded legs onto the chair. “Good dreams?”

He chuckles. “Imagine that.”

“I know, right?” You let him take the piece, toss it into the counter. “You know, I hear they make medications to help with that.”

He sighs. “If you know how to get prescription pills, be my guest, but my faith in pharmaceuticals for this sort of problem has waned, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s fair.”

There is another silence.

The words are out of your mouth before you comprehend them. “Can we have kids?”

You think he may see his life flash before his eyes. “What?”

“Are we physically capable of having children,” you repeat. “Biologically, is that feasible?”

“… Why do you ask?”

You are beginning to realize that your question oversteps some boundaries. You break eye contact. “Had a dream.” You focus back on the diagram. “Before, I mean. The day I got kidnapped.“

You think he may be more uncomfortable with that word than you are.

“And I don’t remember much about all that,” you admit, “but in the dream, Karai said her favorite team was Sincha tea, which I’ve never really heard of, you know?”

He is staring.

You clear your throat. “And you know how she came to see me, right? Well, I don’t remember telling her anything too serious, but I remember that she acted weird when I told her that her favorite tea was sincha tea, so I think it may have been right. But that’s not a lucky guess, because I’m still not sure what sincha tea is, and you can only dream about things you know. And in that dream too,” you go on, “there was something about me being kidnapped, and that day I got kidnapped. So I think there may be validity to that dream.” You rub the back of your neck. “Does that make any sense?”

It takes him a bit to speak. “And in your dream,” he clarifies, “you heard that I may be able to get you pregnant?”

“Not exactly. One of the letters— there were letters—“ you explain, “they said that you did research into the comparability of parts, and it didn’t make sense at the time, but I assumed it had to be sex-related because you were acting weird, but then if it was just ‘could it fit’ if porn is to be believed that’s a dumb question, so I assumed it had to be something more questionable, so.”

He nods. “Okay. Okay. Okay.” He glances over at the hammer at the other end of the table, sighs, looks back at you. “Okay,” he repeats.

You watch him expectantly. “So?”

“So what?”

“Does it work or not?”

His tongue runs over his teeth. “What’s that thing that people in court say when they don’t want to answer a question?”

“Do you mean pleading the fifth?”

“That.” He nods once. “I want to do that.”

A smirk spreads across your face. “So yes?’

“Fifth.” He looks down at his hands. “I’m pleading the fifth.”

You laugh. “You’re not very good at this.”

“Am too!”

You roll your eyes, your smile growing wider by the moment. “Your face is heating up,” you note nonchalantly, “You get flustered real easy, huh?”

He sinks a bit in his seat. “Screw you,” he mumbles.

“And take the satisfaction away from you? What sort of girlfriend would I be if I did that?” Using him as leverage, you pull yourself onto his lap facing him, draping your arms over his shoulders. You are fairly sure your face matches his, but you hardly care enough to mind it. “So? Am I clairvoyant, then?”

He adamantly avoids your eyes but makes no effort to move your arms, his dangling over the sides of his chair. “I’m not answering that.”

You sigh, crossing your ankles. “Honestly, though,” your voice lowers, “I don’t think anything like that’s happened so far; why would I suddenly get a premonition?”

“Dunno.” Tentative, he wraps his arms around your waist loosely. “You’ve had much more exposure to foreign substances than most people; maybe it’s a symptom of that.”

“But that would imply that there’s a scientific precedent for clairvoyance.”

“True, but it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen this week.”

“Also true.” You drum your fingers against his shell absently. “It doesn’t make a ton of sense any way you slice it, huh?”

“Nope.”

You close your eyes, letting your head fall into his chest. “This sucks. I hate being out of the loop.”

“You and me both.”

“Being out of the loop sucks,” you decide. “Just, as a general statement.”

“It does,” he agrees softly, resting his head atop yours. “Anxiety inducing stuff, not knowing things.”

You hum in agreement. “And things being out of control also sucks.”

“Also true.” A slow inhale, long exhale. “I don’t get how my brother does it.”

“Whatcha mean?”

He shrugs, slowly leaning back in his chair. “My father spouted a lot when we were younger that in order to find peace, you need to be willing to let things happen without needing to be in control.” He reaches up, taking a piece of your hair in his fingers and letting it twist and curl around it. “I don’t know about Raph, but Mikey and Leo always seemed to get what he meant by that. I didn’t. I think that may be why, generally, they’re less…” he pauses, struggling for the word. “I don’t know. Anxious? Frantic? Erratic?” Gently, he pulls you closer to him. “They don’t freak out as much, I think. I think that may be why we get into so many fights with them about stuff.”

You say nothing, arms tightening around him.

“Things get better, right?”

You look up at him, not sure what he means.

“You know what’s going to happen, right?” He glances down at you, looks away. “I know I really shouldn’t be asking, but I was curious if things got better after this.”

“Better as in?”

“Less hectic.”

You consider lying to him. You think better of it. “I mean,” you hesitate, “the Shredder is mortal, so at some point, yeah.”

He chuckles dryly. “No time soon, then?”

“That depends,” you say, “on how quickly we can kill him.”

He nods. “And the Kraang stuff?”

You swallow. “The Kraang are a hivemind race of aliens. We’ll die long before they do.”

“Why did you hesitate?”

“Because I’m choosing to ignore something right now until it becomes much more relevant due to its disputed canonical status.”

He hums an acknowledgment. “And if I ask I’ll regret it, I presume?”

“Look at you, picking up on patterns.” Your grip around him tightens. “I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen, so don’t you worry. We’ve only fucked with the timeline a little so far, so hopefully, as long as I can keep track of everything, it’ll work out.”

“You seem good at that.”

“I sure hope so. We’ve still got two really bad things due, so I’m hesitant to breathe easy yet.” You lean back, using the chair as leverage to study his face. “How’re you holding up?”

“… I mean,” he sighs, “I could certainly be worse.” He shifts a bit under you. “We’ve prepared for this sort of thing, so it could be worse. Of course,” he smiled wryly, “We never expected it to be this bad, but we’ve learned some pretty decent coping skills and already figured this was a real possibility, so it’s not exactly incomprehensible or anything like that.”

He feels as though he is caught in a lie under your flickering gaze. You reach behind yourself, grabbing his hands and bringing his knuckles to your lips. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier on you?”

”Nothing really.” His palms, you note, are sweaty. “I’m really just grateful you’re sticking around at all. You know—“

“I know,” you cut him off. “I’m still sticking around regardless. Honestly, Donnie, you think so little of my constitution.”

“I don’t. It’s just I want you to know—“

This song and dance is one you have become quite familiar with over the past couple of weeks. “— that I have the option, I know.” You roll your eyes. “And if I ever want to leave you, love, you will be the first to know, I swear to you. I don’t exactly feel pressure to stay with you, you know.”

“I know.” He shifts again. “I just—“

You cut him off, “I know, and I love that you care for me so deeply, but it’s not your responsibility nor right to tell me what I should and should not want, Hamato. If I’m not in my right mind, when I come back to lucidity, I’ll thank you for reminding me of my options. Until then, accept that I care enough for you that I am more than happy to stay by your side, alright?”

He opens his mouth to argue, pauses, sighs. “Alright.” He shrinks a little under you. “I just don’t want you to feel any pressure is all.”

“I don’t.” The response is automatic. It always is, to that question. He asks you it so often these days.

You wish he would stop asking.

Table of Contents

Chapter 22

Chapter 24: COMING SOON

[radiation]

gonna post progress pics from my volo painting and write a bit about my process since some1 asked for them!

excluding adjustment layers this has 20 layers in all. i wont show all of them bc some of them just have minor differences but ill show my general progress

sketch. just super loose but has enough visual clarity to be able to work off of and not have to fix issues caused by poor anatomy etc later

background color + painting under sketch. to choose colors, i go on the color wheel and just kinda choose colors freely and almost randomly & paint w them by very lightly pressing with a hard round elliptical opacity brush set to a large size, blending other colors on top of them this way. i dont use this brush the whole way through but honestly i couldve and it still wouldve turned out good

a lot of trial and error but because were doing it so loosely its pretty easy to find something that works quickly (also sorry the painting is so dark at this point oops)

developed painting a bit more and upped saturation in some places using an adjustment layer.

to get a lot of the color variations im getting here, i colorpick from other areas of the piece, ie colorpicking from the face and using it as subtle lighting for the hair, seeing i like how those colors look, and using that as a jumping off point and using a more intense pink for the hair shading. you can also see i got some of the yellowish on the sleeping bag or whatever tf he has on his back from the hair/hat/etc, just brushed it on there really lightly and it looks cool. another place i like to colorpick from is where the sketch overlaps with the colors underneath, it creates some interesting desaturated colors.

you can also see im developing linework a tiny bit here, its pretty early on and a lot of it will be painted over later anyways but i start being like, okay the 3d forms i've been making are working, let's draw on top of the sketch a bit to encapsulate those areas

but yeah uhh definitely a lot of this is just testing stuff out when i'm this early in the painting, i am aaaalways in motion, never stopping and just working off of instinct and what looks cool. and if i mess something up, i can just erase it and i'll have the layer underneath to fall back on.

also im just straight up not thinking about anything at this point unless im trying to closely replicate a reference image, which i didnt do very much. i use reference for eeeeeeverything i make. i took a pic of myself at a similar angle to this and then loosely based the sketch off of it, looked at pics of volo, later on looked at some reference of how ppl paint fabric, grabbed some pics of how i drew one of my ocs who makes a similar expression w his eyes, grabbed images of other digital paintings i'd made! because i wanted to work in a certain style i'd done maybe only twice before. for reference images, i use pureref, which i would highly recommend to any artist, especially ones without dual monitors (like me). basically just allows you to make a reference board and pin it on the very top of your screen

just developed more in the same fashion, then threw a couple adjustment layers over it. i toned back some of these adjustments later but yeah. you can see the lineart really starting to come together, a lot of the color variation on it colorpicked from accidental overlapping colors that ended up looking cool. btw i need to make it clear i do lineart and rendering on the same layers. also i did the stripes on the pack just by using a multiply layer, then giving it more love on the layer immediately above it so it doesnt look cheap

more rendering, got a vignette going w a multiply layer. actually started using reference for fabric folds. theyre really simply done honestly and dont look like. amazing. but they work

painted over the vignette in the background to make it a bit more interesting & not just a gradient, more rendering as usual, threw in some subtle highlights to make it a little more interesting! i probably couldve gone further with them honestly. also decided to do a really subtle outline around him cuz it looks cool. lineart is basically done at this point and this is where i started to think i was just about done

desaturated it a little bit, re-added some details i forgot about, generally fiddled with stuff and corrected some mistakes, added signature. and its DONE. i think this took me about four-four and a half hours? yeah something like that

other general notes:

-probably favorite part of this is the sleeping bag or whatever the hell that thing is on his backpack

-not entirely happy with how i did the fluffy part, it has some really cool color shifts but it doesnt feel like a proper 3d form all the way through to me. definitely pretty 2 dimensional in spots, but i was like eh i dont care enough to fix it

-although i think the pose works well enough, its definitely another example of me using pretty static poses and basic composition in my art. which isnt too terrible but i really need to start getting outside of my comfort zone on that stuff. this definitely couldve looked cooler if i developed the pose more and did better foreshortening but i didnt cuz that shiht is hard to me. im really awful at foreshortening

-on that same note, i worked off of the first sketch i made and didnt warm up beforehand which you do NOT want to do. thumbnail stuff out and make multiple sketches. 80% of the time the sketches following the first one will be better

-IM NOT AN EXPERT lots of stuff i still need to learn dont follow this 1:1

OVERALL im really satisfied with this though especially for how quickly it took me to make it. & i hope this was interesting, lmk if you have any more questions on my process !

[vs-redemption]

I though of another thing lmao. I play a lot of video games too lol

But Dabi x Healer!Reader

(I was thinking of mercy from ow so reader has the ability to heal and damage boost her allies and revive them from the dead. - I would say to nerf that for the story it would depend on how long and how they died) - 🐱❤️

From Cindy:  🐱anon! I love you and miss you!! I’m sorry it took so long to get to this! I’ve been a busy bee recently and have had some writers block but I’m feeling very refreshed now! I had fun writing about our favorite burnt villain boy, and I hope you like how this turned out!  ❤️ ❤️

Partners (Dabi x GN!Reader)

Dabi was not ashamed to admit that his only reason for recruiting you into the league of villains was to use you for your quirk. It seemed like your powers had almost been designed specifically to support his goals and make up for his weaknesses. His intense blue flames caused severe damage to his body, but your healing touch could fully recover him in an instant. And anything in his path that could somehow withstand the heat of his flames would be burnt to ash instantly with a simple boost from your quirk. You were the perfect tool, and he had fully planned on capitalizing on that.

“I trust you to find people to support our cause,” Shigaraki had told him in the beginning, “but don’t you think this person is just going to be a liability in a fight?”

It was a concern he and Dabi had shared and was the biggest drawback to allowing you to join the team. You couldn’t defend yourself and would need to rely on the other villains to keep you safe whenever things got dangerous. If there was anything Dabi hated more than anything, it was pretending to care about other people. It was bad enough he had to stomach Shigaraki and the others, but at least he could trust them to hold their own in a battle. In exchange for your incredible abilities, you were going to be a constant thorn in his side. However, the pros outweighed the cons and he ultimately ended up agreeing to let you join.

At first, he thought he might’ve made a big mistake. You got along a little too well with the others, and ideally he wanted you to prioritize him over everyone else. Unfortunately, he was awful at faking interest and carrying conversations about anything that wasn’t related to himself, so building any sort of connection with you felt basically impossible. After some thought, he decided to keep his distance as much as possible unless interaction was absolutely necessary. As long as you remembered why he’d recruited you in the first place, and used your quirk the way he’d intended, he’d be satisfied.

Dabi was very familiar with rage. It was the emotion that had kept him constant company since he was a small child, and the emotion that fueled and motivated him whenever things got too painful or difficult. However, as familiar as he was with rage, he’d never learned how to control it when something triggered an outburst. So, when you refused to give his flames a boost during a particularly intense showdown with the heroes, he’d gone completely ballistic. Even without your powers, the intensity of his quirk has been magnified causing his flames to go wild. The anger had consumed him so completely that not even a direct order from Shigaraki had been able to stop him from unleashing the waves and waves of blue fire. The heat was so overbearing that both the heroes and villains had been forced to retreat.

Back at the hideout, you did your best to keep Shigaraki calm while you tended to the wounds incurred during the fight, including some nasty burns on Twice’s arms from when he’d tried to approach Dabi and reason with him. The fire wielder in question had not returned to the base with the others, choosing to continue on the warpath until someone managed to stop him or he wore himself out. He was surprised when it was you who came back out a few hours later to retrieve him from the dark alley way he’d hidden himself away in. Despite his exhaustion and the excruciating pain all over his entire body, he went right back on the defensive as soon as he saw your face.

“You must have a death wish!” His says through a grimace. A ball of fire appears in his hand threatening, but you could see the steam coming off of his skin from how much he’d overused his quirk already.

“From where I’m standing, I’d say it’s you with the death wish,” you frown. “How much longer do you think your body can hold out if you continue like this?”

“That’s none of your business!” Dabi snaps and takes a shaking step forward. “I only allowed you to join our cause so that you could support us in fights.”

“And I will lend you my support when it is beneficial to the cause,” you fold your arms and fix him with a hard glare. “The league needs you. But look at how your raw power affects your body on its own. If I boosted your quirk, you’d be a pile of ash and bones in an instant.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Dabi growls before his flame sputters out and he stumbles forward. You put your arms out instinctively to catch him, but the heat coming from his skin is painful to the touch. You help him to the ground as gently as you can and carefully start to heal his wounds. Thankfully he doesn’t protest.

“It is my call to make if it affects me,” you argue as you hover your hands over his skin. “My quirk has limits just like anybody else’s. Do you really expect me to help you destroy yourself knowing it’s going to be my responsibility to fix you again afterwards?”

Dabi hoped that was a hypothetical question. What he expected was for you to do whatever he asked, whether it put physical strain on you or not. He did understand your thought process though. His quirk was both a blessing and a curse, and the level of his power was closely tied to the intensity of his emotions. It was definitely possible that a boost to his flames could push him a little too far.

“You know,” you plop down next to him on the dirty ground once you finish doing what you can for his burns, tired from exerting yourself more than usual that day. “Maybe instead of testing the limits of your mortality, you could just try relying on your allies instead.” You glance over at him to see a scowl take over his features, and when he finally turns to meet your gaze you simply smile. “Even if you only put your trust in one single person, you might find that accomplishing your goals becomes far easier. I’m sure you’re not the only one in our group with ulterior motives, so working with someone rather than against could be mutually beneficial.”

Trust was not something Dabi had much experience with. He wasn’t sure he could trust another person, and it probably wasn’t safe for other people to trust him either. Still though, an under the table partnership might not be a bad idea, and was part of his original plan for you anyway. He wasn’t a fan of compromises, and you didn’t seem like the type to be easily bullied into compliance, but having someone working with him specifically rather than indirectly through Shigaraki might prove useful. And if things didn’t work out, he could always ditch you later. Or perhaps you were even more perfectly matched with him than he originally thought. In which case, it might be possible for him to learn how to do that pesky ‘trust’ thing. Only time would tell.

[dateamonster]

i, for one, would love to hear your deep read of zombieland saga *eyes emoji*

ok i just got through lowkey ranting about zls (mostly abt how much i love junko this season) to my friend so i think im sufficiently warmed up to make a first class fool of myself on the internet by becoming another Guy Who Get s Heated About Anime

so i’ve been thinking abt this a lot since zls revenge came out- and just in general but i mean given this season is literally called Revenge it now feels especially relevant to talk about zls as a story about second chances and seeking personal growth after hitting absolute rock bottom. like in this case that rock bottom is obviously death, the greatest low you can achieve, but its also not just that i dont think. bear with me.

the zombie angle is obvi crucial to the show like its the hook its twist its the instigator for a lot of the wacky situations and hijinks and such but its also? not super necessary sometimes? or at least it feels that way. what i mean is the show is so much about the characters and their personal arcs in a way that i find so human and relatable that i sometimes legit forget this is a show about zombie pop idols

even the overarching goal that drives the plot forward of “saving saga” (though i feel like we still dont know everything there is to know abt that) has to do with this theme of second chances. its a story about comebacks, about trying to breathe life into something that seems dead. thats maybe sort of obvious, but its been hitting me how much that like core thesis informs the characters and makes their own resurrections feel.. more personal ya know?

sakura loses her shot at her dream in a split second accident and for a while isnt even able to process that because of her lost memories, while ai was at the top of her game when she died and now has to watch her former friends and fans move on without her, and lily was a child star who was literally killed by her commitment to making other people happy, only finding her love of performing again after her death. franchouchou and the mission to save saga was the reason all the girls were brought back from the dead, but it also becomes their second chances in that it gives them a reason to keep trying in the face of loss after loss.

its a funny cute show but its also got some pretty grim stuff baked right into the foundation and i think the reason it works and doesnt feel super tonally dissonant is because its so consistently heartfelt. its so easy to get sick of shows with “never give up!” type messages when it feels like the characters triumphs are assured and their struggles only ever temporary, but it never really feels that certain for franchouchou, and the losses they face send ripples of fear and doubt through its members that come back into play the next time the group is put to the test. junko doesnt lose all her anxieties after one successful show, and the way saki, who prides herself in her sense of strength and rebellious nature, struggles to contend with change and situations outside her control still feels as real every time because imo theres an understanding that that stuff leaves lasting marks, even to the resurrected, even to a zombie.

not to go even more off the rails than i already have, but i think its really interesting the many different ways zombies as a type of monster are portrayed and the way zls relates to that. the common thread as i see it, if such a thing can rly exist, is this fear of decay. not even necessarily death itself but degradation, deterioration, the processes through which every person is stripped of what makes them themselves, reduced to a husk with only the most base instincts still intact, moving around and affecting some pale imitation of life but completely empty inside.

zls as a zombie story is interesting to me because while i think those sort of fears are still present (the scene recently where saki fully realizes she’ll never get to grow up still strikes me as incredibly dark for the episode it was in, though im not saying thats a bad thing) zls supposes that a person can indeed overcome that state of decay.

it doesnt treat the idea lightly; positive change is HARD and a thousand times more so for these characters who have already reached what should have been their lives natural conclusion. the sorta thesis i feel like zls and particularly revenge are presenting is that personal growth is a constant battle against the path of least resistance, the predisposition towards stagnation or defeatism that occurs after a traumatic loss. it’s not enough to be handed a second chance, you’re still just another mindless zombie until you decide to try and be more, and even then you have to keep making that choice every day that youre alive.

so yea hopefully this doesnt all read as some totally insane Reach but like once again, it may not necessarily be that deep, but it COULD be. and thats whats important to me <3

[lazywonderlvnd]

you are so gd talented and I would love love love to see your take on a possessive draco (like Harry when he gets territorial over Theo in TCL)

you are so kind pls.....thank u so much 😩 here’s a drabble for you, angel, hope you enjoy and sorry it took a hot minute! ❤️

He’d never have let Draco do this normally — it’s hard for him, and not in that work-through-it-and-you’ll-be-better-for-it kind of hard, all it does is make him tense and angry — but he can see the slight mania in Draco’s eyes and the fear and desperation, and it’s all of that plus the hectic flush on his cheeks that convinces Harry not to fight it when Draco shoves him down onto the bed and points his wand and suddenly Harry’s wrists are bound to the headboard.

“Better?” says Harry drily. Draco’s jaw clenches and his eyes blaze. If he’d known how obvious he was, how clearly Harry could read all of his emotions on his face, maybe he would have gone to some trouble to take it down a notch. He tugs lightly at his bonds, testing them though he doesn’t plan to break them. He simply wants to determine whether he could if he wanted to. To his fascination, he’s not totally sure he could. They’re incredibly strong, which means there had been significant emotion behind the spell. “D’you feel like telling me what the fuck this is about yet?”

Draco doesn’t answer. He points his wand again, and then Harry’s clothes are gone. He can’t imagine a more vulnerable position to be in: tied up and naked. At one point in his life, the idea of Draco Malfoy seeing him this way would have been second only to Voldemort himself seeing him this way. Not anymore, of course.

Now all this does is make his cock twitch and start filling with blood.

“What’s with you?” he asks. Draco doesn’t answer again; he disrobes himself without magic, then slips off his shirt and trousers and climbs onto the bed, a knee on either side of one of Harry’s legs. He looks quite mad, and lucky for him he’s just fucking perfect enough that he makes madness into something ethereal. His hair is free from its usual product, tempting Harry’s bound hands with how soft it looks. The combination of helplessness and arousal makes his breathing shallow and loud, his chest rising and falling too obviously for his taste.

“Something wrong, Potter?” Draco purrs, fingers curling around the base of Harry’s cock, slick with magicked lube. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing through his nose, but Draco only squeezes and he has to clench his jaw to keep in a noise. “You know, you couldn’t look more appealing if you were a six-course meal and I was starving.”

“Is that right?” Harry says. It’s strained slightly, and he lets out a hoarse laugh. He opens his eyes and meets Draco’s, doing everything in his power not to lift his hips into the constant, torturous slide of that perfect hand. “Keeping in mind, of course, that you’ve always been a bit of a slut for it I do have to say you look more ravenous than usual.”

Now Draco laughs, mockingly, and he speeds up his hand. He starts twisting his wrist at the top, palming over the sensitive, engorged head, and dipping his thumb into the slit like he’s trying to coax out more pre-come. He looks like he’s barely restraining himself from leaning over and using his mouth instead; he’s got a good and proper fetish for Harry’s cock, an obsession that rivals only his love of riling Harry up on purpose just to monopolise his attention. It only makes it more impressive that he hasn’t done it yet.

“Keep talking, Potter, I have all night. And I’ve always wondered how you’d look all worked up and edged past endurance.”

Something flutters in Harry’s stomach, a heady combination of shock and arousal and nerves. The look on Draco’s face, the implications of his words, they’re making Harry deeply uneasy as much as they’re turning him on.

“Is that your plan?” he asks, trying to keep his voice level. “You wanna watch me struggle?”

“Well that’s only part of it,” says Draco. He lets go of Harry’s cock, curved up against his stomach, thick and heavy with blood, and crawls up his body to press a series of kitten-soft kisses onto his neck. Harry closes his eyes again and breathes through his nose. There’s an instinct to resist that’s kicking in which he’s desperately fighting. He wants to know what the fuck is going on first before he decides to shut this down. Draco’s lips drag maddeningly up to his ear. “The other part is reminding you what you’re gonna spend the rest of your life missing if I ever catch you fucking around on me, Potter.”

Another pulse of shock rocks him. He stares up at Draco with his lips parted, confused at first until understanding catches up with him and his face flushes. 

“I see you’ve figured it out,” Draco says silkily. His hand goes back to Harry’s cock, still hard and throbbing, and now he bends and puts his lips to the head. He sucks lightly at it like a particularly good lolly, making Harry’s toes curl, ripping a half-mad groan from his throat.

“I dunno what you thought you saw,” Harry bites out, tugging unconsciously at his ties, “but I wasn’t planning on fucking Jenkins. But it’s good to know you’re keeping a jealous eye on me at work, love.”

Draco sits up and swipes his thumb over the wet and sensitive glans again. Harry loses himself for a moment and bucks his hips.

“Maybe you weren’t planning on it,” says Draco mildly. He traces his fingertips along the underside of Harry’s straining prick, dancing along the nerves, every vein engorged with blood, leading him along a knife’s edge towards a feeling of frighteningly unfamiliar vulnerability and desperation. “But you were thinking about it,” he coos. “Did you picture it, Harry? Pushing him against the wall face-first and filling him up with your cock?”

Harry’s head falls back against a pillow and he lifts his hips again, searching for friction. He’s so hard it’s beginning to hurt now and he’s slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood to his brain.

Draco’s hot, wet mouth engulfs him then, taking him down to the root so he can feel the throbbing head press just slightly into the tight channel past his uvula. His mouth falls open and he lifts his arse off the bed, trying to fuck Draco’s perfect throat, but he makes it difficult by always pulling back just enough to make it impossible. He’s actually shaking, muscles straining, as Draco works him at his own deliberately slow pace.

“Draco,” he rasps. His fists clench in their bonds. He can come this way, it’s building with a terrible force in his stomach. But it’s building slowly, as if his body itself has allied itself with Draco in an effort to make him struggle and suffer, all for the harmless glances he’d been shooting Jenkins lately. “Fuck. I —”

“You what?” Draco goads him. He replaces his mouth with his hand again, sliding it leisurely through lube and his own spit and Harry’s pre-come, little spurts of it continuously dribbling down its turgid length. “Sounded suspiciously like you were about to say please …”

Harry grits his teeth and swallows back the begging noises threatening to burst out of him. More blood rushes to his prick, turning the head a worrying purple. He wonders in a slightly hysterical, half-insane way whether he could die from this. From needing to come this badly and not being allowed to. From refusing to beg for it, even when it hurts.

“Well,” says Draco as he releases him and climbs up to straddle his waist, positioning himself above Harry’s cock. It rubs against the cleft of Draco’s arse, teasing him with the possibility of all that tight, gripping heat, and Harry lets out a low moan just thinking about sinking inside of him, of all that friction that’s so close but so fucking far. “At least the Wizarding world can sleep soundly knowing their hero doesn’t easily give into torture.”

“Bully for them,” Harry says through gritted teeth. “Now sit on my fucking cock before I decide to hex you.”

Draco laughs. His pink lips part tantalisingly; the long line of his throat glimmers with sweat and drives Harry to the very brink of fucking madness.

“Are empty threats usually effective in your experience?” Draco asks. He grinds himself along the length of Harry’s prick and lets the head catch on his hole, which he can tell is only loosely stretched. Which also means Draco’d been fingering himself before. 

Harry flicks his bound hand and Draco jumps, looking satisfyingly surprised for a moment. Even in spite of his predicament Harry manages a shit-eating grin. Hexes and jinxes are hardly effective done wandlessly but Harry’s rather adept at pulling off a decent Stinging Jinx.

“D’you think that’s a good idea?” Draco asks when he’s gathered himself. There’s a new flush on his cheeks, though, and it’s gorgeous. “Hexing me when I could easily leave you here hard and wanting?”

Harry opens his mouth to make another sarcastic remark (because he can’t fucking help it, even with his libido screaming out in agony for him to fucking leave it, just let Draco have this power trip) but before he can say anything Draco’s lining up and bares down until the head pushes through the ring of muscle — and he stops there. And Harry’s always been good at biting back vocalisations, an ability to stay quiet no matter what is a highly useful skill for an Auror, but when Draco stops and merely squeezes around the head of his cock he lets out an utterly tormented groan, bucking his hips only for Draco to lift up and away. 

“Fuck you!” Harry yells, tugging again at his ties and shouting at the futility of it. Draco’s watching this with glazed eyes and wet lips. “Fucking just — god, just sit on my cock, you fucking inbred little cocksucker!”

And Draco laughs, loudly. He bends and touches his lips to Harry’s sweaty forehead, then to his mouth, then his damp and heaving chest and over his stomach and finally delivers a few more chaste kisses to the skin above his pubic hair. Harry’s cock bobs next to his face, pulsing and throbbing and aching. Draco drags his tongue up the side of it and then presses his lips to the head, suckling gently, torturing Harry on purpose. And Harry, he’s not actually sure how much more of this he can take. His arms are aching now. His cock feels too engorged with blood, tight and hard and painful. He physically can’t stop himself from bucking up against Draco’s mouth.

He groans in frustration when Draco pulls off again but then he’s sliding Harry’s cock back into his arse, and not just the head this time. He sinks all the way down, enveloping Harry in all that throbbing, gorgeous heat, and he squeezes so perfectly around him, and Harry cries out and lifts his hips and tries to fight his restraints.

“Not thinking about Jenkins, are you?” Draco says lightly. He rocks his hips a little and Harry whimpers. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard himself whimper like that before.

“Fuck no,” he gasps out. “Just you.”

“Just me,” Draco repeats. He lifts himself up, pauses, and then sinks back down. He hands go to Harry’s chest and he does it again, again, again, fucking himself properly now and Harry can see he’s beginning to lose himself to the sensations finally. That glazed look is back in his eyes and there’s sweat beading at his hairline. “Nobody else could do this to you, Potter.”

Harry would have agreed to anything at this point but he still means it when he nods frantically, beyond caring now that he’s at a major disadvantage, that Draco has successfully taken him apart the way he’s so used to doing.

He’s about to come when Draco stops moving again, seated fully on his lap. Harry lets out a string of curses and creates bruises on his wrists where he strains and wrenches madly against the silky material binding them. 

“Draco, please,” he hears himself say. It hardly even sounds like him. “Please, fuck, please, I need — I need to come …”

“I know,” Draco coos. He bends forwards again and kisses him, soft and languid and a little mocking, and Harry’s cock twitches inside of him. “And I’ll let you. But you have to do the rest yourself.”

“What?” Harry asks deliriously. Draco lifts up until just the head is still being squeezed inside his tight heat, and Harry gets the message. “God,” he breathes, even as he bends his knees and plants his feet flat on the mattress, his hand trying of their own accord to reach for Draco’s hips, but they can’t. “You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

Draco laughs until Harry thrust brutally up into him, and then he’s moaning instead, fingers curling against Harry’s chest. Harry has no way of changing angles, of trying to hit Draco’s prostate or make him scream, so instead he focuses on his own pleasure, because really, at this point, it’s what he deserves. He slams up into him over and over, shaking the bed, making his thighs scream with the effort, and by the time he feels his orgasm approaching his dripping with sweat and his shoulders are killing him and he knows there must be terrible bruises on his wrists.

“That’s it,” Draco goads him. His own cock is bobbing precariously above Harry’s stomach, red and swollen and dribbling pre-come out of the slit. “Put your fucking back into it, Potter, fuck me like you mean it.”

Harry lets out a tortured moan and puts his fucking back into it. He feels Draco’s body tense up and clench around him and then release, nails digging into Harry’s skin, and come covers both their chests and hits Harry’s chin.

The soft, exquisite noises Draco makes push Harry past the edge himself and he comes inside of Draco with his veins thrumming; he fucks madly up into him until his come is leaking out around his cock and still he keeps going, sliding through all that slick, working himself until his shaking and weak and can hardly move. Draco takes over again, rocking on top of him, milking him of every last shudder and shiver and moan. 

He lies there panting and limbless, and when Draco releases his bonds, his arms fall to his sides and he groans at the soreness of his muscles.

Draco’s kissing him then, drawing his lips apart and ravaging his mouth with his tongue. Eventually Harry lifts one of his aching arms and puts a hand on his cheek, thumb grazing smooth skin.

After a minute and then two and then three, Harry finally mutters, “You didn’t really think I’d sleep with Jenkins, did you?”

Draco draws back and pushes some of his hair out of his face, considering Harry from his place straddling his hips.

“I’m still figuring you out,” he says after some consideration. Harry lifts both eyebrows.

“We’ve been together two and a half years.”

“Yeah,” Draco says. He lifts up and off of Harry, making him hiss. “And I’m still figuring you out, Potter.”

“Right back at you,” Harry says drily. He loves the way it makes Draco grin.

[neon-junkie]

Injury

Summary: Mando is injured, so you help patch him up. Whilst you’re busy helping him, you don’t realize your arm has been accidentally rubbing over his crotch this whole time. You’re not going to let the poor guy suffer even more, are you?

Pairing: Mando/Din x gn!Reader

Word Count: 2063

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Mention of minor blood/gore. Mentions of stitching up a wound. Tags: Nsfw, Smut, Wounds. Handjobs, Teasing, Dirty talk, Dirty thoughts, Friends to lovers

Notes: I may do another chapter if anybody asks for it. Also, the beby is sleeping in his pod for the whole of this, you haven’t managed to lose him lol :p

You were so thankful it wasn't a face injury. So. So. Thankful. Mando had been so pedantic the last time he was injured. He would literally rather die than take off his helmet, and he almost did. But this time it was his waist, so he was willingly accepting your help.

Mando was lying down in the entrance of his ship, barely making it up the ramp as he squirmed about in pain. Whatever hurt him was gone, so at least you two weren't in any more danger. You quickly shut the ship's door before grabbing your medical kit and kneeling down beside him. He had already accepted your help without either of you two saying a word. You just opened the kit up and started working on him.

You unclipped his armor, placing it aside as you lifted his shirt. His injury was a large deep gash going from the middle of his rib, down to his bellybutton. It was enough to make anybody cry. You could hear him panting and hissing from under his helmet, keeping his head back as he tried not to watch you work away on him. You focused on disinfecting him, then spraying him and trying to stick his wound back together.

Mando hissed and whined under his helmet, keeping his head flat on the floor. His hands tensed and twitched, clenching into fists as you patched him back together.

You had no idea that this whole time you'd been lent over him, your arm had been lightly brushing over his crotch. It must have been small enough for you not to notice, but Mando's senses were heightened now he was in pain and had picked up on the small accidental contact.

As his wound got better, and he calmed down, you began to untense and subconsciously pay more attention to your surroundings. That's when you noticed your arm just accidentally rubbed over his crotch. For a split second, you wanted to apologize but realized how weird that'd sound, especially in this situation.

You brushed it off and continued to work. The end was getting near, and Mando already seemed a lot better. Thank the Maker for antibiotics. But it happened again. Oops. You couldn't help that the angle was weird, but shame on Mando for getting injured in a weird place and deciding to collapse on the floor rather than a table where you could help him without coming into unnecessary contact with him.

However. you noticed that he'd let out a really soft, really quiet moan within his hoard of hisses and gasps. It was a moan, wasn't it? As in a sexual moan? Hmm. There was no harm in just testing it out to see if Mando really was getting some kind of attention whilst you were simply trying to help him out. So you did it, you lightly brushed your arm over his crotch again whilst wiping up some blood that had dribbled down his side opposite to you.

And there it was again. Another soft moan; Slightly gaspy, clearly horny.

You knew this man must get no attention at all if something as small as that was starting to get him hard. And yes, his crotch did feel ever so slightly harder this time.

You were almost done with patching him up, and gosh did you feel bad for him. Poor guy devoting his whole life to the ways of the Mandalorians, to not have any physical attention and get beaten up on the daily. Poor bastard. Would he ever let you though? Would he allow you to see an intimate part of him? Maybe play around with him? Maybe let him fuck you? Surely he must be tired of always getting himself off? Could he really deny someone in his time of need?

So you rubbed against him again, but this time slightly harder and you kept your arm there. It was lightly held over his semi-hard crotch, and he was surely aware of the contact.

Mando seemed to freeze, still hissing and whining a bit, but his body had tensed up and he was clearly trying not to move, despite the urge to squirm in pain. You could see his gloved hand trying to grip onto the floor. He must have thought you hadn't noticed. He must think this was clearly accidental and you were innocently trying to help heal him whilst he was beginning to get off on the small contact.

"I'm almost done," you tell him, taking your time to clean up the wound and its surrounding area.

That's when you felt him ever so slightly rut up against you, giving his hips a roll to lightly grind against your arm. You didn't react, pretending like you didn't know.

You pressed down on his wound ever so slightly too hard, completely accidental, which made him hiss and instinctively grab your thigh.

"Sorry.." he said instantly, moving his hand off you and placing it back on the floor. "It's alright," you reply. "Natural reaction," you say as you continue cleaning him up, totally not subtly talking about his obvious bulge.

You brushed your arm over him again, and this time it was obvious that you were aware of his hard-on. Mando's sigh this time came from behind gritted teeth, trying not to let it slip out. You stuck a large bandaid over his chest after wiping all the blood away.

"Done," you tell him, sitting up on your knees and looking down at him. "Thank you," he replies. You pause for a second, seeing if he'll follow up with anything. He didn't. "Is there anything else you need help with?" you ask him. Mando looked up at you. If his helmet was off, you were sure he would be looking both confused, scared, and aroused. "Uh.." "Anything?" you ask again whilst batting your eyelashes. Mando was definitely a shy one. "I.. Erm.." you heard him stutter. "Your wound wasn't that hard to fix," you flirt as you forwardly rub your hand over his very obvious hard-on.

Mando's head dropped back and you felt his hips push upwards against you. "I didn't mean to.. I can't help it," he apologizes. You watch his hands repeatedly clench open and closed. "Like I said earlier, natural reaction." "Your arm kept accidentally brushing over me and I jus- wait. You knew?" he cuts off, looking up at you again. "I didn't at first, but I picked up on it eventually, so I carried on." "You tease! Coming onto me when I'm injured!" he sighs as you brush over him again. "I can stop?" you half-ask, half-threaten. "No! No. Uh. I like it," he almost cuts you off, shying away at the end of his response. "Hm, I'm sure you'll like what I'm gonna do to you," you tease. "Mhm? Go on."

After giving his bulge a press, you reach down to unzip his pants, leaning forward on your knees. Almost instantly, his solid length flops out of his unzipped pants. You couldn't help but smirk; you knew he'd be big. He was a good few inches in length, not too big to the point it'd hurt, but not small, and my gosh was he thick.

You reached forward and took him in your hand. Taking your time, you slowly pumped up and down his shaft, realizing just how big this Mandalorian was. You could hear Mando breathing heavily. He went to prop himself up on his elbows to watch but gasped at the pain. You shooed him back down and told him to just enjoy the ride.

Feeling like you'd teased him enough with your long, slow thrusts, you pick up the pace, enjoying the way his body reacted. He was clearly trying not to over-react, his body going tense. One of his hands came up to grip at his shirt, his moans getting louder through the drone of his helmet.

You would give anything to take that stupid thing off and see his face. To watch how he reacted to every little move you pulled. To maybe even make direct eye contact with him as you climbed on top and rode him.

"I should get injured more often," he says, head still looking upwards, spare hand sprawled out on the floor. "And whys that?" you ask, acting oblivious to the reason. "If it means I'll get attention like this, then I'll allow myself to get injured any day." "No, Mando. I don't want you getting anymore hurt." "Hmh," he grunts.

You knew he was somewhat sulking right now, so you decided to prop yourself up on your free elbow, and dip your head down to gently suck at his balls whilst you continued to toss him off. Slowly sucking the one, then moving to the other, somewhat struggling to find them as they were fiddly to get a grip of. Mando choked on a moan as he felt the wetness of your tongue press against him. He reached one of his hands forward to grip comfortably at your thigh, giving it a squeeze every time you switched from one ball to the other.

"Let me fuck you," Mando sighs in possibly the sexiest tone you've ever heard, despite the drone of his helmet. "I can't let you do that," you flirtingly reply. "Yes, you can." "You'll end up ripping your stitches!" "Just ride me then?" "No, Mando," you begrudgingly reply. "You'll hurt yourself even more. Just wait until you're healed, then you can fuck me as much as you want." Mando moaned at your response, bucking up into your hand and rolling his head backward. You were sure if he wasn't so polite, he'd be asking you for a blowjob right now, but the stiffness of his cock suggested he wasn't going to last very long anyway.

"So, are you going to cum for me?" you politely ask him, your lips still pressed against his balls. "Oh, stars. Yes. Oh, I will," Mando sighs as he grips onto his shirt harder. Mando looked upwards at just the right time, to see you licking a long, slow line up the base of his shaft. "Fuck," was all he managed to choke out before cumming over his stomach, closely missing his patched-up wound. You milked him for all he was worth, continuing to pump his shaft a few times as he rode his high. He gripped hard onto your thigh, his hips bucking upwards uncontrollably as he sighed and panted.

"Shit." Was all Mando managed to say. You took a cloth out from your medical kit and wiped him down, tucking him away and also checking on his wound to make sure he hadn't ruined all your hard work. You weren't surprised he didn't last long; Poor guy probably only found time every now and again to sort himself out.

Mando's hand stayed on your thigh, softly keeping hold of you as he watched you clean him up. He thanked you, before slowly sitting up, his hand lightly clutching onto his wound for support. "Sleep," you softly ordered him, offering a hand as you stood up. He accepted, letting you slowly pull him up before helping him over to his pit of a bed.

"I'll drive, you rest," you told him as you sat him down, his legs off the edge. "Yes, of course," he sarcastically replied. For once, he wasn't being stubborn. You turned to walk away, but his other hand quickly reached out and took hold of yours, pulling you back over. The two of you paused, looking at each other. "Thank you," he finally said. You smiled. Your other hand slowly came up to cup his helmet, resting exactly where his cheek would be. "Don't mention it," you replied, then eventually turned and made your way to the cockpit.

Mando shuffled back into his bed, closing the door from the inside. For once, he felt safe. He slowly took off his helmet, placing it beside him as he laid down. His hands came up to brush his scruffy brunette hair that had stuck to his forehead, feeling like his skin could breathe for once. Mando took a few deep breathes, taking his time to process everything, to process you. 'I'm lucky to have them,' was his main thought.

He finally gave in to the heaviness of his eyes, and went to sleep.

[rissynicole]

DTIYS Contest Prize: Rllyaangrlly

Here is the first of the one-shots promised to the three winners of the DTIYS event I put on recently. (Thank you guys for being patient with me, btw. I’m a very slow writer, and you’re seeing it in action). Just as the title states, this one is for @rllyaangrlly, based on her requests. 

This was a ton of fun and gave me an opportunity to not only shake some writing rust, but work with topics I don’t normally explore. More than anything, I was able to try to emulate the vibes Brit gives these characters in her own art/writing. I wish I had a better word for it, but I’ve always felt like Brit has a certain “aesthetic” with the IZ characters through her drawing style, the situations she puts them in, and her overall portrayal of their personalities. I’ve always adored it, and it was an honor to be able to try my hand at writing it. 

Story is under the cut.

Characters: Dib, Zim, Gaz

Relationships: ZaGr, ZaDf

Warnings: minor injuries

Words: 3,706

Absurdity

The car’s engine and the drone of its wheels on the highway were the only sounds that passed between the three. The radio hadn’t been turned on, and no one had the gall nor the desire to change that. Not Zim, who was turned almost completely towards the window in the passenger seat, nor Gaz in the backseat. They drove along in heavy silence as Dib stared stonily ahead of him at the stretch of road, hands gripping the wheel numbly.

Dating. They’re… dating.

The idea was positively absurd to him. Not only did it feel weirdly out of the realm of possibility, but it felt wrong, somehow. Like some sort of tasteless prank. When Zim had told him, he’d half expected the camera crew from Punk’d to come parading around the corner, led by Ashton Kutcher, to point and laugh at the look on Dib’s face. “Can you believe it?! Your best friend—alien best friend—and your little sister! You totally fell for it!”

That almost would have been better. Cruel and mortifying, maybe, but better. At least then, he wouldn’t be sitting behind the wheel of the car trying to make sense of it while the two pretended not to notice from inches away. But it wasn’t a prank. Hell, Dib wasn’t famous enough to be on Punk’d anyway. Maybe someday… but not today.

A little part of him had high hopes for the series of paranormal investigation videos he and Zim had strung together. Lately, that little part of him had stopped feeling so childish, too. Their following had risen significantly over the last few months, gaining more and more traction as people tuned in. Suddenly, their modest little support net of viewers was in the hundreds. Then the thousands. Then the hundred-thousands. Truth be told, Zim and Dib hadn’t really come across anything of substance in their investigations, but their newer viewers weren’t exactly around for solid proof of the paranormal, anyway. It hadn’t taken long for the two to realize that most of the channel’s appeal came from the dripping sarcasm and witty banter directed at one another.

“Chemistry” was an apt word, and it got thrown around a lot. Zim and Dib, quite by accident, had become the up-and-coming best friend duo in the paranormal community. And with each new investigation, they garnered more and more recognition.

That’s where they were headed now, towards Ottawa National Forest to investigate the latest hot spot Dib’s research had led him to. The “Paulding Light” was a strange phenomenon, appearing in a single spot in the woods and taking form of a bright glow before fading off into the darkness of the night. Though plenty of locals could attest to having seen it, no one could feasibly explain it. Dib was determined to catch it on camera. Or at least he had been, before Zim had dropped the bomb on him right before leaving the house.

Dating. They’re… dating.

His thoughts rounded back, and he felt his hands readjust themselves on the steering wheel. Behind him, Gaz sighed quietly and cross her legs. He almost swore he could sense her and Zim exchange a glance through the rearview mirror, but he really had no way of knowing. He didn’t really want to know.

Dating.

“What’s the exit?” he asked, jarring them all back to reality.

Zim paused before answering. “It’s a couple down. Not this one, but the next.”

They returned to silence. Even as Dib’s blinkers resounded through the car and they exited off the highway. Even as the smooth highway turned to bumpy asphalt, then later, dirt roads.

At last, Zim spoke. “Dib—”

“I’m not mad,” he interrupted. “I’m just…I don’t know what I am. I need to process this. Just…” He trailed off, his mouth a thin line.

Zim and Gaz glanced at each other through the rearview again.

Eventually, they pulled into a dirt lot and spilled out of the little hatchback, glad for a break in the tension that had been all-consuming throughout the entire car ride. Gaz leaned back, popping her joints before heading to the trunk of the car where the camping supplies and camera equipment was. Zim took over, gathering it up and taking inventory of what they had brought along.

Just as before, everything was done without a word. No one really knew what to say. Gaz and Zim were giving Dib his space, and the latter still seemed to be at a loss. Driving hadn’t really cleared his head as he’d lamely claimed it would; it’d just made him more flustered.

Before long, they were off. The hike through the woods was only marginally less uncomfortable than the car ride had been, but the open air helped. Dib led the way, walking along the dimming trail as dusk settled in. The plan was to find a place to set up camp near the area where the Paulding Light supposedly made its appearance. Then, they’d hike again—this time under the cover of darkness—with the cameras rolling.

As the daylight slowly dissipated and the cool air settled in, Gaz paused to unhook her backpack from around her shoulders. Her jacket was inside, probably balled up beneath all the other crap she’d packed for this little excursion. Before she could even get her bag unzipped, though, Zim handed her his own sweatshirt.

She glanced up, and a wordless argument passed between them.

Now you’re going to be cold, her glare told him.

He gave her a challenging, almost haughty glance in return. Just put it on. I’m fine.

Gaz huffed a little and rolled her eyes, but ultimately acquiesced. She bunched it up and pulled it over her head. It was an overlarge navy hoodie with their college name and emblem branded on the front in bright, almost obnoxious yellow font. Zim had been wearing it almost religiously since October had arrived and the first freeze of the year had swept through their neighborhood.

When her face appeared at the neckline, she made brief accidental eye contact with Dib. He averted his eyes quickly. His mouth was still in that tight, thin line.

They continued on, walking until they’d found a suitable place to set up camp. Just as agonizingly silent as before, they set to tidying up the area, pulling out their sleeping bags, and taking inventory of the food they’d brought.

At this, Zim reached into one of the backpacks, eyes lighting up at a bag of jumbo marshmallows. Gaz slapped it away, all pretenses forgotten for a second. “Knock it off. We still have to film,” she said.

He snagged one anyway, popping it in his mouth defiantly before chuckling at her wavering attempt at a serious expression. They locked eyes for a moment, and then Gaz finally dropped it and began laughing along with him.

Dib cleared his throat.

They both turned and looked at him, smiles dropping instantly.

“Let’s get going,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking up at the smattering of stars up ahead. “You have the camera, Gaz?”

She nodded and held it up.

Dib did his best to not look behind him at Gaz and Zim as they walked on. Suddenly, any playful or even amicable interaction between them had taken on a whole new meaning. Because it wasn’tjust amicable.

Dating. They’re… dating.

It made him feel like the last few months had been a lie. It wasn’t just him, his sister, and his best friend anymore. It was him, his sister, and his sister’s boyfriend.

He visibly shuddered as he stepped over a fallen tree branch. Ugh, he didn’t want to think about that.

About a mile in, they began to hear running water. Sure enough, only about five minutes later they came upon a fallen tree that spanned about the width of the trail. Some quick observation showed that it was acting as a sort of bridge over a shallow stream about five or six feet below.

“I guess this is sturdy enough,” Dib muttered, testing the strength of the log. He peered over the edge at the water. At this point, night had fallen proper. A small slice of moon illuminated the sky, casting down on the stream. Dark water glinted here and there as it passed over rocks.

He began to walk over it, arms held out for balance. He hadn’t said much at all, despite Gaz currently filming. She held the camera up anyway, sighing inwardly.

What a waste this trip was. Who the hell would want to watch a video of Dib moodily wandering through the woods all night?

As for Zim, he had hardly uttered a word, either. And he was usually the comic relief of their little program. The fact that Zim was quiet wasn’t just bizarre; it was unsettling.

Zim stepped up on the log, followed by Gaz, who was still holding the camera out in front of herself. The disproportionate weight made her lose her balance for a moment, which was then exacerbated when the entire log rocked along with her. On instinct, Zim reached out and caught her by the wrist.

Dib turned, still halfway across their little bridge over the stream. He glanced at the two blankly. Then, his eyes narrowed. Even in the darkness, the intensity of his glare met Zim’s eyes.

“Would it kill you to not fondle my sister in the middle of the night while we’re trying to film?” Dib muttered.

“What are you talking about, Earth-stink?” It was clear Zim’s already-thin patience was running dry. These days, nearly a decade after arriving on earth, he only pulled out the immature nicknames when he on the verge of arguing.

Dib simply gesticulated at Zim’s hand, still grasping Gaz’s wrist. Zim looked at him incredulously and then let go of her.

“Dib…” Gaz growled, “You’re acting like an asshole.”

I’m acting like an asshole?!” he said, the hours of tension suddenly bubbling to the surface. “You’re the one who decided to… to…” He was at a loss for words.

Gaz darkened nonetheless, eyes glinting. “I didn’t ‘decide’ to do anything! And if I knew you were just going to sulk the whole time, I would have stayed the fuck home! Do I even have to remind you that I do this shit as a favor to you?” She waved the camera in front of her, and Dib paled at both her words and the prospect of it slipping from her grip and into the stream several feet below them. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t even want to go camping right after my midterms?”

“A favor for me, sure!” Dib shot back. Maybe some people could be perfectly silent for hours on end and be perfectly calm. His temper had never allowed for that. He was speaking without thinking, and he could feel it. It still didn’t stop the word-vomit from coming. “You sure it’s a favor for me and not a favor for your little boyfriend over there?”

He gestured vaguely towards the “boyfriend” in question, who’s face was beginning to match Gaz’s. Before Zim could open his mouth, though, Gaz lunged forward, right into Dib’s face. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up right now!”

The fallen tree they were balanced on began to rock a little, and Zim’s eyes went wide as he clambered to keep his footing. “Gaz—”

“Stay out of it, Zim!”

“I will not!” he shot back. “Not when you’re both acting like complete—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. The log rocked again, and this time, Gaz’s balance didn’t withstand. The little hand-held camcorder slipped from her grasp, and she instinctively lurched towards it with her hands outstretched. Zim, operating on the same instinct, tried to catch her again. His foot slipped out from under him along with a crumbling of tree bark that had split off the log

“W-woah!” Dib shouted. His eyes bulged from behind his glasses. He reached for both of them, catching the sleeve of Gaz’s hoodie and Zim’s arm to try to keep them from falling over the side. He only succeeded in making the sorry excuse for a bridge rock yet again. At that point, it seemed, the log decided it was no longer interested in keeping three fully grown adults upright and out of the water. It rocked, crumbled, and then slipped from where it had been wedged between the two ends of the hiking trail.

Dib, Zim, and Gaz went tumbling off. High, clipped shouts preceding their fall, then a series of splashing.

The water below was cold, but not terribly so. It was a shallow, slow-moving stream. Almost more of an inconvenience than anything. Even so, the drop was high enough that Dib landed on the balls of his feet, skidded out, and skinned both elbows as he fell clumsily onto his rump.

He groaned, cupping one scraped elbow in his palm. Already beginning to internally bemoan his soaking-wet clothes, he turned to Gaz. His anger was beginning to return to him in place of shock.

“Great. That’s a new camera down the fucking drain.”

Instead of an onslaught of choice words back at him, however, Gaz didn’t respond. She wasn’t even looking in his direction. Instead, she was turned away, hunched over something in the darkness. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. At her feet, Zim’s body was lying halfway in the stream, completely motionless.

Gaz whipped around to look at Dib, soggy tendrils of hair stuck to her cheeks. She no longer looked angry. “I think he hit his head. Help me get him out of here!”

Dib’s eyes widened, and without thinking, he hurried around Gaz’s other side, grabbing Zim’s shoulder and hauling him to the grassy bank a few feet away. “Is he okay?” he shouted.

“I don’t know. Move!” She dropped to her knees in front of him. His wig sat like a sodden mop on his head, and she pulled it off before it could burn his scalp any more than it had. The worry she so evidently felt was plastered all over her face. Even in the darkness, Dib could see it. He was worried, too, but it was strange to see it so plainly on Gaz of all people. She had always been the more level-headed of the two, and seeing her normally morose, carefully composed poker-face fall away so quickly made Dib feel like he’d entered some alternate dimension.

Seconds later, Zim came around. With a moan, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal one contact and one overbright pink eye.

Gaz didn’t fuss or wring her hands, but she sighed noticeably in relief, then began asking him questions. (What is your name? Where are you right now?)

Zim answered in turn, seemingly fine. His hand wrapped around to the back of his head to absently massage at a growing bump, though. He groaned again and sat up.

“You need to get out of those clothes,” Dib said. He could hear a distant sizzling—the awful sound of water against Zim’s skin. Even in their days of mortal rivalry, that sound had always had a visceral effect that could pierce through any bluster and leave Dib cringing inwardly.

Gaz nodded her head in agreement. “Come on,” she said. She rose to her feet, then helped Zim up.

“I’m fine. This isn’t the first time this has happened on this filthy planet,” he muttered. The fire that had been in his voice just moments before had been snuffed out. He tugged at his soggy clothing and scratched at the rashes that were beginning to form on his arms and torso.

Before Dib had time to realize what was happening, they were walking ahead of him back to their camp. Gaz was leading the way this time. Zim managed to keep up, wincing in pain occasionally.

When they got back, Gaz beelined to Zim’s bags. While he ducked behind some brush and changed into new clothes, she pulled out a small first aid kit with the Irken insignia printed on the outside.

“He’ll need the—” Dib started. He stopped when he saw Gaz pull out the exact tube of antibiotic cream he had been about to gesture towards. She glanced at the Irken characters—Irken characters Dib hadn’t known she could read—and opened it.

“Can you hand me the bandages from your bag?” she asked.

Dib shot her a weird look but reached for the bandages anyway. “You know, his PAK heals him pretty quickly. I don’t think he even really needs them.”

“Yeah, but bandaging it up makes him whine about it less,” she said. She tried to hide the smile that had begun to form on her lips.

Dib handed it over and began to build a fire for the three of them.

Zim returned then, dressed in clean, dry clothes. While Gaz helped treat and bandage the worst of the burns, Dib kept silent. This time, however, it wasn’t out of whatever conglomerate of frustration he’d been feeling earlier. He was watching his sister coyly.

Gaz was not the maternal type. Throughout their entire lives, Gaz’s words and actions had been laced in a gruff sort of outer layer that warned others she was not to be trifled with. She kept her circle small and very rarely expressed any emotion other than cool apathy or outright anger.

The way she was acting towards Zim was a far cry from her normal self. Dib had only ever seen her like this on a handful of other occasions. When those memories drifted to him and he realized the common denominator, he suddenly felt uneasy. The tenderness in which she wrapped Zim’s forearm was with the same silent, admonishing tenderness she’d shown Dib when he’d gotten injured during his own idiotic exploits over the years.

Meanwhile, Zim sat slumped against a tree, letting her bandage him up without a fuss. While he was making an attempt at nonchalance, it was clear he was practically falling asleep where was sitting.

That was another little thing Gaz seemed to either know already or manage to take in stride: something about injuries made Zim unusually tired afterwards. For as long as Dib had known him, he’d been this way. Dib had deducted it was because his PAK was using more energy than usual, and Zim had more or less confirmed it. Even so, it was rather unsettling to see anyone sustain an injury and then drop off to sleep moments later like a narcoleptic.

That’s precisely what Zim was doing now, now. As soon as Gaz finished with the last bandage, she shook his shoulder to wake him. With the last of his energy, he shuffled to his sleeping bag and practically faceplanted onto it. Within seconds, he had dropped off to sleep.

Gaz patted his hand.

Dating, Dib thought yet again.

It was absurd. That was the only way he could put it. It didn’t make any sense. Almost…almost as absurd as the idea of him being friends with Zim in the first place.

He frowned and began to pull at the loose strings of a bracelet he’d worn on his wrist for the last year or so. Zim had an almost identical one that he, too, never removed.

Hadn’t there been a time when he couldn’t imagine himself being anything but Zim’s enemy? And now they were almost inseparable. If he could get used to that, why couldn’t he get used to this?

He glanced down at the bracelet and sighed. “You really care about him, don’t you?” he said finally.

Gaz glanced up, her face guarded. “I wouldn’t be with him if I didn’t.”

“And he treats you well?”

“What kind of stupid question is that?” She made a face, but it wasn’t entirely hostile. “I wouldn’t be with him if he didn’t.”

Dib’s eyes fell on Zim, who was snoring lightly. He didn’t doubt that. “Okay,” he said through another exhale.

“‘Okay,’ what?” Gaz said, raising a brow. “I don’t need your ‘blessing,’ Dib. I just want—”

“—No, no, no. I don’t mean it that way,” Dib said quickly, “I mean ‘okay,’ I will get used to this. And I’ll stop being such an asshole.” He quirked his lip upward in a humorless smile at the last part. “I’m sorry, Gaz. I could have handled that a lot better, and I didn’t.”

She pulled her knees to her chest and stared into the crackling fire. “Apology accepted.”

Zim began to stir then, one hand reaching out to scratch at his bandages.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Gaz said softly, taking the hand and moving it away. She made to rifle through their bags but was stopped when Zim’s hand closed around hers. He held her in place and began to murmur incoherently.

Gaz smiled; a sweet, serene smile Dib very rarely saw. “Just give me a minute,” she told Zim. She squeezed his hand and pulled away, unzipping the bag closest to her and retrieving what she was looking for—the marshmallows Zim had been after earlier.

She pressed one into his palm, and his fingers wrapped around it groggily.

Over the next hour, he slowly came out of whatever fog his PAK had put him through as it worked to heal him. By morning, the irritated rashes from the water would be gone and the bump on his head would be nothing but a distant memory.

Not for the first time, Dib thought about how strange Irkens were.

Over the rest of the night, the three gathered around the fire, roasting marshmallows. Even through the lulls in conversation, the tension that had practically been a permanent fixture earlier was gone. Instead, they slipped into their new dynamic. A dynamic that was, as Dib had claimed, absurd. But when hadn’t it been? Not when Zim had first arrived on Earth. Not when years and events had passed them by, and enmity had melded to friendship. And not now.

Absurdity was their specialty, and they were learning to wear it proudly.

~The End~

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- 9a

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 2177

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: Ok so I started to write this and then had to go back to edit it and then I added more and then it was all just angst and it was just getting so long and I couldn’t fix it. ANYWHO, the Halloween special will now be two parts. I’m really hoping it won’t be three but we shall have to wait and see. 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE! Please be safe out there! 

Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki refrained from groaning as he stepped into the jet that would take them back to the Tower. Sam and Bucky were fighting over the pilot seat while Wanda was chattering loudly about the costume she had managed to find for herself and Vision. Loki catches your eye and he can tell you wish to speak to him. He doesn’t allow you the chance as he storms out of the seating area in preference of the solitude found in the back. 

The quinjet finally sets out of the compound and Loki manages to survive the short ride without being pulled into whatever conversation you wish to have with him. You most likely wanted to know the truth behind what you had revealed previously. An answer he would refuse to give you. 

Loki is almost cornered by you in the arrival at the tower but by sheer luck, you are called away by the AI allowing Loki to peacefully make his way down to his residential floor. The peace he had in mind at the return of his familiar abode is disrupted at the sight of Thor waiting for him there. 

Loki’s annoyance grows at the sight of his brother regaled in his Asgardian armor swinging Mjolnir with ease. 

“Welcome back, brother.” 

Loki just grunts in response as he tries to maneuver around the big oaf. 

“I went ahead and prepared your armor for the party tonight,” Thor continues with a smile. “It should be a merry night full of drinking and dancing. We should thoroughly enjoy it.” 

“I’m not going to that party.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because I refuse to partake in Midgardian celebrations.” 

“I would think you would enjoy this one, Loki. It’s all about mischief and magic.” 

Loki rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“I am quite tired, brother. I am in no mood for festivities.”

“You never are,” Thor states, forcing Loki to stop right outside his bedroom door. “You always hide out here and avoid having any fun. You’ve been here for months, Loki, and you have failed to participate in any way or form to enjoy humanity.”

“I hate this place,” Loki responds. “Why would I try to find some silver lining?” 

“If that is the case then perhaps I should report to father that you have made no progress and have you sent back home.”

That definitely deepens the foul mood Loki was already in.  

“If I go to this party will you refrain from reporting to father?” 

Thor thinks for a few seconds before relenting.

“Yes, I would.” 

“Great, good,” Loki mutters as he slips into the darkness of his room. “I’m not wearing my armor though.” 

“Then what will you wear?” 

Loki doesn’t respond promptly slamming the door closed to Thor’s face. 

The lab was as pristine and proper as the day before you had come in and destroyed it. The wall had been repaired and the equipment that had been easily thrown before was now bolted to the ground. You let out a sigh as you try to forget that dark moment of your life when you had turned against your friends for no reason. 

You still couldn’t remember what happened but it still shook you to the very core. The truth was something everyone valued and yet you had overlooked the darkness it could truly hold. Lying didn’t seem so bad now and you miss having the simple ability. 

Shaking yourself from that thought, you scanned the rest of the room looking for the man of the hour. 

The moment the jet landed at the tower you were promptly told by FRIDAY that Tony requested your presence in the lab. 

You tried to make a quick stop towards the Asgardian floor but the AI had overlooked your floor request in preference of following its creator’s demand. 

The lab remained silent after you came in. FRIDAY had announced your presence but Tony was nowhere to be seen. You felt yourself being watched but could find no one. You were starting to grow paranoid which didn’t help when a loud bang resonated nearby.

Your head snaps towards the source of the crash and you relax when you realize it’s just Dum-E hitting against the nearby desk.

“Oh Dum-E, I thought I was…”

“BOO!” 

You jump at the sudden shout behind you. Out of pure instinct, you throw your hands in front of you causing your gauntlets to shoot out two straight lines of energy. The beams scorch two black spots on the recently repaired wall.

“Well that’s new.” 

You turn around and glare at Tony. 

“What the hell, Tony!” you shout at him. “I could have killed you.” 

Tony chuckles in response and is quick to apologize. 

“Sorry, kid,” he answers. “Didn’t realize you were Iron Man 2.0.” 

You roll your eyes at him and laugh sarcastically at him. 

“Ha, ha, ha, very funny,” you joke. “These things are the only reason I have some semblance of control.” 

“Let me see them.” 

You raise your hands and show him the golden gauntlets. 

“Interesting design,” he mutters as he grabs a hold of them, turning them around back and forth. “I’m assuming the stones are important by their placement. I wonder what they’re made of. Carbon-based, maybe? Rare space jewel? I would have to run some tests…”

“Yeah, not possible,” you comment. “I can’t take these off. Things could go very wrong.” 

Tony scowls as he lets your hands go. 

“Can’t risk it for a few minutes?” Tony asks. “I’m sure I could improve them for a nicer aesthetic and easier mobility.” 

“Tony…”

“Come on,” he nudges. “You don’t see me wearing my blasters because they’re comfortable. It’ll only be a few minutes. Five tops.” 

You hesitate and Tony pesters on.  

“Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can do if you have to wear those atrocities for the rest of your life.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek before relenting. 

“Just be careful with the stones and be quick, please,” you plead at him. “I don’t wish to have a repeat of my last mishaps.” 

Tony snorts as he helps you slide the gauntlets off your hands. 

“Heard about that,” he snickers. “A little birdie told me and by birdie, I obviously mean Sam.” 

You laugh and shake your head at him watching as he steps towards his desk and pulls out an array of files into the screen. He flips through them quickly before stopping at one. 

Pepper Gift Ideas. 

“Um, Tony?” 

He ignores you as he opens the file up and scatters out the multiple designs he’s sketched out. You’re shocked at the multiple documents in the file but don’t have the chance to inspect them closely as Tony finds the one he was looking for. 

“Here it is,” he states as he picks the design and throws it onto the screen next to his equipment. “What do you think, kid?” 

“Oh, wow,” you whisper as you look at the design on display. “That’s beautiful.” 

“Was tinkering for a while about making Pepper her own jewelry,” Tony responds beside you. “But she never wears what I get her.” 

“I’m sure she would wear this,” you tell him. “Are you sure you want to use this design on me?” 

Tony is quick to nod. 

“You’ve been dealt a shitty hand with this power,” Tony answers honestly. “I just want to make things better for you in any way I can.” 

“Thanks, Tony,” you tell him, heartfelt at his generosity. “Really, thank you.” 

Tony clears his throat from the rising emotion and looks away. He picks up your gauntlet and begins to disassemble them. 

“Now go away,” he mutters. “Let me work in peace.” 

“You told me it would only be five minutes.” 

“Well I lied. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” 

You roll your eyes at him and Tony simply smirks. 

“I’ll have them done soon, I promise, so why don’t you go ahead and find your partner in crime, Natasha. She’s got your costume in her room.” 

You hesitate but you’ve already done your daily exercises to tire your powers out. Nothing could go wrong. Or at least that’s what you hoped for. 

You wince at the sharp tug of your hair. You glare at Natasha through the mirror but she simply smirks in response. You had no choice when it came to getting ready for this impromptu Halloween party. Natasha dragged you into her room the moment you showed up at her door. 

You didn’t mind her help for the party. In fact, you were glad to have it as the redhead went above and beyond to have everything ready for you. From the costume to the hair and makeup, Natasha had arranged it all. All you had to do was sit there and allow her to make her vision into a reality. 

Though you would use this time to catch up with your close friend, your mind was far away at the moment. 

Ever since your last lesson, Loki had avoided you like the plague. Any attempt of trying to apologize to him was somehow thwarted by Loki himself or some outside force. It didn’t help that Tony’s impromptu invitation and the jet that followed severed any chance of forcing him to see you. 

You felt guilty.

You had crossed a line by revealing something he wasn’t ready to when all he had done was help you. You needed to apologize and you needed to do it soon. 

“Ok, spill it.” 

You look up at Natasha’s pointed stare and sigh. 

“I can’t hide anything, can I?” you mutter tiredly. Nat tugs on your hair again and you hiss at the action. “I’m fine, Nat. Just trying to settle my mind.”

“Of what?” 

You take a deep breath debating whether it was a good idea to tell her of your past week with Loki. 

Nat despised him with every fiber of her being, but you… you didn’t. 

“Loki’s been a great teacher considering I’m a ticking time bomb...”  

“But?” Nat interrupts. 

“But,” you repeat with a huff. “I keep ruining everything with this stupid power.”

“You?” Nat asks, confused. “You ruined everything? Not him?”

“Nat…” 

“I’m sorry,” she sarcastically laughs. “That doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“You don’t understand,” you sigh. “If you just let me explain…”

“Then explain.” 

You take a deep breath and turn away from the mirror to look at Natasha directly. 

“I have invaded everyone’s privacy. I’ve learned things I have no right knowing and revealed things without permission. You already know how guilty I felt because of it,” you explain. “Yet, Loki wasn’t one of them. He’s immune to my power as I am to his but I recently crossed a line and uncovered something I wasn’t supposed to.”

“What was it?” 

“You know I can’t tell you.” 

 Natasha huffs in response but shrugs her curiosity off. 

“So?” she asks. “What’s wrong then?” 

“I feel really bad about it, Nat, and he’s avoiding me and I just want to apologize to him because I invaded his privacy but he won’t even let me get close to him to do it.”

“He doesn’t need an apology,” Nat scoffs. “He’s a grown man. He can lick up his wounds and move on.” 

You’re starting to regret confiding in her about your situation but Loki has yet to teach you how to evade telling the truth without necessarily resorting to lying.

“I apologized to you and everyone after my first outburst,” you remind her. “You didn’t need me to but I’m sure it helped.”

Natasha lets out a breath but she knew you had a point. 

“Loki doesn’t deserve your kindness.” 

She’s being honest with her opinion but you don’t feel the same way. 

“I think differently,” you answer. “I think it’s been a long time since Loki’s been treated with some kindness.” 

Natasha's eyes narrow down at you. 

“Do you…” she hesitates. “What exactly is your relationship with him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Are you acquaintances? Friends? Or is it more?” 

You’re surprised at the question. 

“I guess we’re friends?” you answer unsurely. “Mentor and student seems weird so yeah… friends.” 

Natasha seems unconvinced but she doesn’t speak up on it. Instead, she motions you to face forward again so she could finish up with your hair.

“So do you think I’ll have time to slip out to apologize or am I going to have to wait until the party?” 

Nat can’t avoid the snort from escaping her promptly earning her a confused look from you. 

“Loki doesn’t go to the parties,” she tells you. “Not since I could remember.” 

“Then why did he come with us in the jet?” 

“Maybe because he has to monitor you and we have to monitor him?” 

Nat’s right but you can only hope that Loki might prove her wrong. 

“If he’s there… apologize to him,” Nat tells you hoping to ease the scowl that was settling on your face. “Just don’t expect him to forgive you. He’s not apologetic, far less forgiving.”

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @sanniegirl1214 @telenari @anonymouscastiel12 @ddaeing​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox @heykathchuu​

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart