#its also hard to imagine with that ending

[jungkooklover777]

𝑀𝑦 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑜 ; clark kent / superman

summary: an office romance sounds good in theory but what happens when it goes according to theory?

pairing: fem!reader x corenswet!clark kent + journalist!reader x journalist!clark kent.

trope: office romance + coworkers to friends to lovers.

genre: fluff + some angst + slow burn romance.

warnings‼️: crude language + minor alcohol consumption + near-death experience + misogynistic remarks towards reader (from a jealous coworker who’s also a man r we surprised) + idk shit abt journalism.

word count: 11,031.

random disclaimerrr: heyy haha… heyy… how y’all doin… ik ik it took me for-fucking-ever bc in all honesty, i forgot about dat doe. & i lowk had writer's block but ITS OUT NOW SO YAYYY!! happy reading! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ ♡ © 2025 @jungkooklover777

A knock sounds at your already open door, causing you to pause your typing and look up.

“My office in five.” Your boss and an editor-in-chief— Perry White— commands.

You send him a nod and he’s on his way back.

It was a chill day until the cloud of quiet chatter evaporated and was replaced by a thick blanket of excitement.

“What is going on out there.” You curiously mutter.

You think about entering the crowd but you decide against it as you remember your initial task.

Perry may be a fair boss but his agitation takes on several forms, you do not wanna be caught on the receiving end of it.

You knock on his door and open it.

“Alright, Kent— oh. Here she is.”

You can’t see how this ‘Kent’ guy looks but he’s definitely a little over 6 feet. His gray coat outlines the broadness and muscly look of his back.

Damn, he’s kinda big.

He turns around and the only thing you can think of is Squidward whining in frustration, Oh no, he’s hot!

His eyes are a remarkable shade of blue, a lovely bunch of black curls sit atop his head, and his skin reminds you of the nice sand accompanied by the local beach.

Kent’s sporting a pair of black framed glasses and he’s the handsomest “nerd” you’ve ever seen.

You hope your ogling isn’t obvious.

“L/n, meet Clark Kent. Kent, this is Y/n L/n.”

This Greek God of a man shakes your hand and it’s warm. So. Warm.

He smiles and goddamn it is beautiful. It’s so perfect with all his perfectly straight, perfect shade of white teeth.

AND HE HAS DIMPLES?! HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!

“It’s nice to meet you.”

And of course, an attractive voice that matches his equally attractive face. It’s deep and confident and you’re crushing so hard on him right now.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.” You calmly say.

“Get acquainted well because you’ll be showing our new guy here the ropes. Starting now.”

Your heart drops down to your ass and you retract your hand.

Of course this had to happen to you.

“Oh, okay.”

It was in fact not okay but it’s not like you had much of a choice in the matter.

You exit first and are met with so many faces outside the office. Comically, they all look away and pretend to do something important.

Now you realize why there was a crowd earlier, because of the handsome new guy.

You ask him to wait for you while you go grab some things from your desk.

“Okay, Clark—”

You’re gone for literally 1 minute and the poor guy’s already being swamped.

There’s a blonde girl, bit of a ditz. Twirling a strand of hair while giggling over something seriously unfunny.

She’s accompanied by a guy who’s much shorter in comparison to Clark.

He’s yammering away about how he’s always wondered what it’s like to be on a farm…

“I mean, I was at one for the DP but they didn’t have much internet so we couldn’t cover much. And the smell?” He shuts his eyes and wrinkles his nose in disdain. “I can’t imagine how it was for you, man.”

You watch in horror as he takes a sniff, yes; a sniff at Clark and hums, “You smell great, though! What is that, uh, aftershave. Or sum’?”.

Clark responds with a nervous laugh at his sudden proximity. “It’s Polo by Ralph Lauren. Uh, the blue one.”

“Whaaat?” The guy laughs in surprise.

Clark folds his lips inwards and raises his brows in an awkward manner.

What do you say to that? Truly.

What an idiot, you cringe internally before coming to his aid and kicking off his first day.

It’s the end of Clark Kent’s second week. He’s a great addition to the Daily Planet team and you have to say, he’s really nice.

His first few days were spent showing him around. Perry’s office, your office, the newsroom, break room, copy room, mail room, bullpen, so on and so forth.

You were sure Clark could use a better mentor but he thought otherwise. ‘You’re a good teacher, I like learning from you.’ He said.

He was very quiet at first, kept to himself and didn’t approach anyone unless he absolutely needed to.

You were the only person by his side almost every hour he worked so it made sense to just go to you.

The more you talked to him, the more he got out of his shell.

A friendly relationship blossomed and soon, he was a willing participant.

You like to drink something in the morning while you work and you didn’t realize Clark took a mental note of that.

Since your first week together, he brought you something everyday.

“As much as I appreciate this, you’re not the drink guy.”

You were worried he thought you’d expect him to do this all the time now but he denies the notion.

“Oh it’s no big deal, I pass by a cafe on my way here so it works out. Plus, I know the owner so I get a discount every time I go.”

You smile at that. This little tradition has become an essential part of your day, it’s how you start it. It’s also special to you because it’s just for you.

Your crush on him grows by the day but you can’t help it! It’s so hard not to like this guy.

He’s still a bit shy at times but you think that’s part of his charm, and he’s got you good. He’s just Clark, a sweet guy from a small town with big arms dreams.

“So, what are the plans for today?”

He asks this everyday in hopes of going on a side quest with just the two of you.

Alas, that doesn't happen nearly as much as he'd like but at least he still gets to see you whenever he likes.

“Today, we’re going to a meeting.” You answer as you quickly send out one last email.

You grab your purse and Clark brings his notebook to the conference room.

He pulls out a chair for you and you smile gratefully, whispering a ‘thank you’.

Perry and the other senior position holders make their way in and take their seats.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Perry announces that at the end of the meeting, there will be a spot open for another editor-in-chief.

Instantly, there’s hushed chatter of who can be nominated to fill the slot.

You’re positive you hear your name among the many different routes of conversation. You don’t notice Clark glancing at you when he hears it, too.

“L/n.”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you and want to fuse with the chair you’re sitting on.

“She’s our most talked-about reporter and has been here for almost three and a half years. How she’s doing better than most of you at this table, I have no idea. Great work, Y/n.”

You purse your lips in an awkward smile at the jab towards everyone else layered between your praises. “Thank you, sir.”

Clark allows his lips to be pulled back in a small grin, unable to hide his happiness for you.

You know some people in the room are envious of you and are incapable of witnessing your success, but you’d be damned if you let them ruin this moment for you.

The rest of the meeting goes by smoothly and it’s time for Perry to announce the new editor-in-chief.

“Of course, it came as no surprise for us to come to unanimously nominate Y/n L/n as one of our new editors-in-chief.”

You know you should be happy and a small part of you is relieved that your hard work paid off, but you’re not entirely sure.

You’ve only been here for 3 and a half years and this is a huge promotion.

Are you ready for this? How do you know you’re ready? When do you know you’re ready?

You force yourself to get out of your head and express your gratitude.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” You smile as you shake their hands, accepting their approval.

You still had some time before accepting the offer but it felt like you had to take it.

The reality is: you don’t know what you want.

Most of the people leave but some stay behind.

“Congratulations, Y/n. You definitely earned it.”

Remember the envious people that were mentioned earlier? This guy— Mark Callahan— is one of them.

He sticks his hand out for you to shake but you clock his underlying tone.

“Thanks.” You smoothly move past him to the door with Clark following.

“Bitch.” He mutters to himself.

Clark stops dead in his shoes. “What did you just say?”

Mark smirks lazily and the few of his dastardly henchmen eye you with jealousy.

Your eyes are a bit wide, lips agape at his sudden change in attitude. “Clark..?”

This is Clark Kent. The shy, dorky, kind of an aloof guy with long legs, a killer smile, and a nice heart.

You never thought he could get mad. You haven’t even see him annoyed up until this very moment.

Mark takes a step towards you but Clark is quick to get in between you and him.

He pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek and chuckles. “Relax, man. I’m not gonna hurt your little girlfriend.”

Clark steps forward, his height giving him the upper hand as Mark’s ego forces him to maintain eye contact, even if he has to tilt his chin up a bit.

“You couldn’t even try.” He softly yet subtly mocks.

Mark tightens his jaw and you can feel the tension growing.

You tentatively reach out and put a hand on Clark’s shoulder. “We need to go.”

He maintains eye contact with Mark for a moment longer before budging and walking out.

Clark’s jaw is set and you see the faintest twitch of the muscle, his face stern and hand sweeping his curls.

He holds the elevator for you and you gulp nervously.

“What… was that?” You dare ask.

He assures you it's nothing but you can feel the intensity of his annoyance radiating off of him. It fills the elevator when you step in.

You don't know how badly his blood boils at the thought of someone being so casually disrespectful towards you.

His hands were clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. He forcefully wipes his hands on his trousers and tries to cool down.

You let that go but can’t let go of how badly he gave you the butterflies.

You couldn’t even try.

That part replays in your mind.

It was the way he said it, like he was so sure of himself.

He was obviously putting Mark in his place but for you? He did that for you?

Your lips fold inwards to conceal the squeal (read: scream) that's begging to be released.

As the elevator arrives at your floor, Clark extends his arm for you to get out first then follows you out.

Chivalry isn’t dead?!

You don’t know much longer you can contain yourself.

“Hey, Y/n?” Clark calls out.

You swiftly turn around on your heels. “Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, like he’s gathering his thoughts carefully.

He has so much he wants to say. Every time you thank him for bringing you your morning drink, he wants to say, you deserve nothing but the best. He wishes to say how beautiful you look everyday, how smart you are when you're feeling doubtful.

Instead, he holds it all in and says something a friend would say. It doesn't mean anything less to you, he knows that. So he says something so kind, it leaves you with heart eyes.

“You deserve that promotion.”

In all the time you’ve spent here, not many people have said anything like to you.

There’s the fake compliments said out of spite. You’ve already gathered a mental list of who fits that category.

Then come the words of encouragement, said by a select few genuine people. Perry and your best friend, Lois are— were the only members of this group.

Clark being an addition to this list is obvious, it was only a matter of time, but it means so much coming from him.

You blink and feel lightweight.

“Thank you.”

He gives you that award-winning smile you love seeing so much and is on his way to work.

You feel distracted as you work, smiling like an idiot every now and then when his words ring in your mind.

You deserve that promotion.

Resting your head in your palm with your elbow extended in a comfortable position, you sigh dreamily; staring blankly at your loading computer screen.

“L/n.”

You immediately straighten your back and set both hands on the keyboard, suddenly irritated with how slow the network on your computer is.

“Sir?” You acknowledge him by poking your head out from behind the screen.

“Good work on the Stenson article,” He shows the newspaper bundled in his hand. “It’s gotten Star’s attention.”

You’re impressed with yourself. “Oh.”

He angles his head down to where he can see you through the space above his glasses. “You okay?”

You nod in a way that is more convincing yourself of what you’re saying than him. “Mhm. Just, uh… surprised because they’re our rivals.”

Knowing The Daily Star has its eye on you is a bit unnerving but what kind of opps would they be if they didn’t.

He hums in thought. “Well, I thought I’d stop by and let you know.”

“Right. Thanks.”

You track his movements until you’re sure he’s gone and smack some sense into yourself.

“Focus, Y/n. Focus.”

You are invited to attend a conference in Washington, D.C. along with a few handpicked journalists.

As you await for the plane's landing, your mind wanders back to the new guy. You wish Clark could’ve came.

You just think he would’ve had so much to learn and experience, nothing else…

A rattle echoing through the jet brings you out of your thoughts.

The captain makes an announcement but you feel like something’s off.

It’s the reporter in you, a 6th sense.

Another shake and now everyone’s a bit nervous, worried looks painted across their faces and yours.

You open the flap to your window and see nothing but soot. Dark gray matter surrounds the jet and it’s so thick, you can’t see past it.

You start to smell it soon and so does everyone else.

“What’s that smell?”

“It smells like… like smoke?

“Is something burning?”

The captain makes an announcement telling you to not to panic but of course that ironically makes everyone panic.

Oxygen masks drop down and you don’t waste any time grabbing yours but the dread spreads all over you when you take a deep breath in.

Suddenly, the jet jolts forward and it feels like you’re diving into something. It’s going headfirst into the direction of the ground so quickly and you can’t make sense of anything.

The passengers frantically scream and descend into chaotic paranoia as they hold on to dear life. Your heart pounds in your chest, threatening to jump out.

This is it, you think. This is how it ends for you: in a freak accident.

You close your eyes in fear and hope the impact crushes you so quickly, you don’t feel any of it.

A quick and easy death is a death that is most favorable.

Suddenly, you feel the aircraft being lifted up. The speed of which is swift yet steady, unlike the previous moments when it felt like you were falling to your deaths.

You don’t dare look out your window in fear of it all being a figment of your imagination but someone else does.

“We’re… we’re saved.” Someone calmly informs.

The plane is set down on the ground and the doors open up automatically.

Your eyes widen when you see a man in a blue suit and red cape step onboard.

He’s kind-looking. The steely blue eyes somewhat familiar, maybe it’s his aura.

“It’s alright, everything’s okay.” He smiles and you’re taken aback with how eerily familiar the action is.

“Is everyone alright? Nobody hurt?”

Everyone shakes their head simultaneously as if in a trance, left and right.

He nods in consideration. “That’s good. You all can step out now, it’s safe.”

Nobody moves. No one can! They’re still trying to wrap their heads around this miracle.

There’s this man— in a cape, no less— and he’s asking if everyone’s okay from what could’ve happened.

There’s no doubt in your mind that somehow, he is singlehandedly responsible for saving you all.

Someone in front dares to speak everyone’s mind. “You saved us.” They say as they make their way to him.

The mystery man looks at the passenger with a humble look.

He puts a comforting hand on their shoulder and escorts them out, everyone else following suit.

Everyone else but you. You’re frozen in a whirlwind of emotions, mostly shock.

You’re so out of it that you don’t even notice him coming up to you, his striking blue eyes steady on your form.

“Are you alright, ma’am?”

You whip your head up at him and realize you’re the only one onboard the plane.

“Umm, yeah. I-I think.” You furrow your eyebrows as you feel your foot stuck in a comatose position.

“Can you stand?” He gently asks.

You go to stand up from seat when a sharp pain shoots through your ankle.

A quick breath is drawn from your teeth and he notices immediately.

“Your ankle.”

“Yup.” You hastily grit out.

He looks at you in contemplation for a moment before doing what he has to do.

“Do you mind if I carry you out?”

You pause your unsteady breathing and look up at him through your lashes.

I didn’t hear that.

“Uhh…”

There is a right answer but you don’t know if it’s the answer.

He’s strikingly handsome, so unfairly dashing.

He’s looking at you with those kind eyes and waiting patiently for your word.

“No. No, I don’t mind.” You clear your throat gingerly.

The soft curve of his lips make you feel a bit at ease for a moment.

He holds his hand out for you to take and gently pulls you into him when you do, wrapping that arm around your back. He bends down to hook his other arm under your knees and lifts you so effortlessly, you feel yourself swoon at his display of strength.

Your brain goes quiet and you can’t think about anything else but him. You’re starstruck by him.

Is this a bad time?

He looks straight ahead as he walks towards the open doors but the slight curve of his lips gives the impression of a soft smile.

Soft gasps and wide eyes paint the picture of surprise and you’re immediately flushed so deeply into embarrassment.

The man holding you doesn’t say anything but he silently shares your opinion.

As he walks down the ramp, you look anywhere but at him and the very obvious audience in front.

The symbol on his chest catches your eye and you’re analyzing it. It appears to be a red diamond encasing a capital letter of the same color, an ‘S’.

You wonder what it stands for, what it means to him.

People make room for him as he walks to a spot where you can comfortably rest.

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you and it bothers the hell out of you, but you bear with it for the moment.

He finds a bench within the stagnant ocean of people and sets you down on it, an apologetic expression framing his face.

“I’m sorry.”

You peer up at him in surprise. “For what?”

He sets his hands on his hips, subtly tilting his head to the left and you see behind him the wandering eyes and gossipy mouths.

You snort softly, shaking your head lightly at their antics.

“It’s not your fault. They’re just… trying to figure out what just happened.”

He nods, turning back to the plane with a determined look.

“The ambulance is on its way.” He says as he turns back to you.

You nod, not wanting to look away from his eyes.

The air is thick with so many unanswered questions left unasked, but your throbbing ankle takes a backseat to it all.

This man is a miracle in the flesh and he’s filled your mind with so much curiosity, you don’t know what to do with it.

“You’re gonna be alright.” He says it with such confidence that you believe him.

And he’s gone, flying upwards into the air and in a direction one can only point to.

People crowd the spot he just stood in and stare up in awe at the phenomenon: a man just flew right to the sky!

What a headache and headline this is going to be.

Your ankle was as swollen as an orange, thankfully like the ones that are really small and are known as ‘Cuties’ or whatever the hell.

There's a brace on it to keep from hurting as much but the swelling's still got a long way to go.

You're currently icing it as much as you can before it falls off when you hear a knock on your window.

You hold your breath and lean ahead a little, trying to hone in on the knock truly being real or a part of your imagination.

It's when you hear it again that you decide, nope, totally real.

You move slowly, setting the ice pack on your dresser before carefully moving your leg and setting your foot down on the floor.

Eventually, you make it to your window and look through the blinds to see what could be causing that noise.

You softly gasp. “Holy shit.”

It's the guy from earlier, the same man who may or may not have saved your life. But he's floating, literally standing on air.

You pull your blinds all the way up and open your window, not hiding the shock on your face as you stare at him dumbfounded.

He titters softly, finding your reaction amusing.

“Can I come in?”

You wordlessly step aside with your mouth slightly agape, not really grasping the gravity of the situation.

He flies right into your bedroom while you budge the window back down and close the blinds.

With his back turned against you, you take this chance to make yourself look more put together. Your hands find their way into your hair and subconsciously pat down your body to press the fabric of your clothes as flatly as possible.

He’s studying your room and now you’re even more self-conscious even though it’s relatively tidy.

“I’m sorry for showing up here unannounced.” He says as he turns around to face you. “I hope I don't come off as a stalker.” He snorts softly.

You laugh along, nervous. “I was just icing it before...” You trail off, making a gesture towards the window.

He nods, clicking his teeth. “Ah, right. Sorry, once again.”

You shake your head. “No, don’t be. It’s okay.”

You move to sit back down on your bed and continue icing your ankle.

“You left your purse.”

He reveals the black purse to you and you gasp at the revelation, so relieved as you thought you were going crazy looking for it.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.” You say as he chuckles softly and hands you your purse.

“No, don’t thank me. Just doing what’s right.”

Something about his words makes you pause. The familiar syntax reminds you of someone who’d do what he just did.

You don’t even look inside to see everything in order because oddly enough, you trust it is.

Your grin makes the man in front of you feel strangely victorious.

“Not many would do what’s right.”

He squints his eyes and tilts his head to the side, as if to disagree. “I think we all deserve a little grace every now and then.”

“You have faith in humanity?”

You don’t mean to start a conversation about the moral dilemma of being human but his response intrigues you.

“I do.” He answers with such confidence that you believe him.

“At least that makes one of us.” You look back down at your hands applying pressure to the pain.

“Why don’t you?” He asks with genuine wonder.

You tilt your head at him, intrigued. “Are you really asking me that?” You squint your eyes playfully. “I’m an investigative reporter. I’ve seen and heard things that have made me come close to quitting.”

“Why haven’t you then?” He cheekily asks with a smirk of his own.

You're taken aback with his playful wit exuding a flirty vibe.

You'll bite.

“Because even though my job can be draining, I still love what I accomplish.”

He's delighted with your reasoning, appreciating your love for the game.

“Well said.” He nods.

You tilt your head up, the reporter in you wanting to talk to him more.

“Your turn.”

He raises an eyebrow at your proposed question.

“What do you do?” You ask.

He clicks his teeth lightly. “Well, you’ve seen me fly. I can hear well over the distance and lift very heavy things, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He knows that’s not what you’re asking, you know he knows that.

You smile, shaking your head at his quips. “As in your occupation, Mr..?”

He stands with a knowing smile. “I’ll tell you next time.”

You blink, startled by his suggestion. “Next time?”

He walks towards your window and you follow, opening it for him.

“Until next time, miss L/n.” He says with a wink,

And he's gone.

You're left staring at his fantastic display of power, soaring into the night sky before he disappears into the clouds.

You've never been this fascinated with anything before, but he isn't “anything” or “anyone”. He's a phenomenon, man with great power.

You don't see that often.

You wonder who he really is, where has he been all this time? What's his story?

So many questions, so little time but you'll hold him to that promise of a next time.

“Next time.” You murmur in confidence that he'll find you again.

Lois enters your office with a particular pep in her step, a knowing smile on her lips as she sees you.

You don’t look up from your work as you know there’s nobody else that can enter your office that way. (even perry knocks, lois)

“Sooo?” She asks, strangely enthusiastic.

“So.” You reply uninterested, flipping through pages.

She stares at you like you know what she’s talking about before bombarding you with questions.

“Who is he? What’s he like? Where's he from—? Wait, he’s human, right?”

Your eyes widen just a fraction before you dial it down.

You can't tell anybody about your encounter with him. At least not until you've had some questions answered.

A hurried breath is pushed past your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in annoyance at your friend’s prying form.

“No comment.” You say plainly, not indulging her.

Clark walks by with a new drink of the day and sets it down on your desk, a sweet smile on his face.

“For you.”

You know those certain people who just have you on automatic smile as soon as you see them? He's quickly becoming that person for you.

“You are such a nice guy, Clark.” Lois shakes her head in amazement.

She can't believe men like him do, in fact, exist.

That causes a noticeable blush to coat the tips of his ears and spread thinly across his cheeks.

He's humble. “I appreciate that Lois.”

This tradition is a declaration of friendship, a bond he claims to regard just as much as you do.

A sip of it simultaneously warms your heart and reawakens the butterflies lying dormant in your stomach.

“I agree.” You softly smile. “You’re committed to keeping up with this.”

He looks down and pushes his glasses up with an index finger, clicking his teeth together shyly. “Well, I’m no guy in a cape.”

There he goes downplaying his efforts and staying humble, as usual.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks as he eyes it.

You look down like you just remembered. “Oh, yeah, it’s fine. The swelling’s gone down a lot so I’m good to come back.”

Lois watches the news on one of the tv’s in the room play a clip someone managed to record of said guy fly up into the air, departing with a sonic boom.

She leans into Clark a bit, looking straight at the tv with that same damned topic on her mind. “Clark, do you think he’s handsome?”

He clears his throat lightly, sniffing as he tries to figure out how to answer that wild question. “Well, I— uhh… um— he’s, he’s… conventionally attractive.” His tone gets pitchy at the end, like he's asking, not telling.

“Lois.” You sigh.

“What? He’s so cute guys, I don’t know why no one else is talking about it.”

You take a peek at Clark and find quite a bit of blood rushing to his face.

“Clark, are you alright?”

“Huh— yeah. Yeah, no, I-I’m good! I’m fine, it’s just uhh… hot.” He nods, trying to look convincing.

Lois doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s hot.”

“Oh my god.” You groan.

“No, like, seriously.”

And it’s your fault for knowing how serious she is.

“Do you guys think he’d go for me?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” You nod with a fake smile. “He’d be all over you.”

She bursts out laughing, her focus on the poor guy in your midst. “He’s as red as his cape.”

You turn your head to see and it’s true, he’s super red in the face and just refuses to make eye contact.

“I’m just gonna go… do that thing Perry wanted.” He sends you girls a quick nod and smile before basically running out of y’all’s presence.

You watch him go and find his vulnerability endearing. He’s not afraid to show his feelings but like in typical Clark fashion, gets a little embarrassed when he does.

She purses her lips apologetically.

You shake your head at her. “Lois, if you were a man...” You raise your eyebrows and push air out in yet another sigh.

She takes your lack of words as a sign to contemplate the idea, then says, “You’d be my first target.” with a nod and serious look.

“Get out.”

You hadn’t anticipated your savior to be the subject of fascination so soon. Later on in the afternoon, in fact.

“L/n, you’re a firsthand witness. What do you think?”

Everyone’s eyes are on you as they wait for you to tell your story. You haven’t felt this nervous since your interview with this place.

You clear your throat a bit, feeling your nerves on fire.

“I believe he stopped the plane from crashing.”

You don’t need to be a telepath to know what they’re all thinking: you’re fucking crazy.

Of course, that’s an impossible thing to do but not everyone in this room was there.

“You think… he was responsible for saving everyone that day?” Perry asks, intrigued by your line of reasoning.

“Yes. He opened the doors and immediately asked if everyone was alright and if anyone was injured.”

A few people murmur in doubt but you continue.

“I sprained my ankle somehow and he offered to help me off and took me to an area where I could wait for an ambulance.”

They eye your gloved ankle, unimpressed. (it’s not like you’re here to knock their socks off anyway)

“He helped you off the jet? How?” Someone asks.

“He, um… carried me out.” You quietly say.

The atmosphere shifts and you can really feel and see just how shell-shocked everyone is.

“He carried you out?!”

“As in, in his arms? You were carried out in his arms..?”

You immediately jump to your defense. “I’m not sure why and, or how that matters.”

They’re incredulously adamant about it. “How come? You’ve not only had a conversation but also came into close contact with him—”

“And that’s where your focus lies?” Perry cuts in.

You look at him in thanks and he nods in acknowledgment.

“I dunno.” A board member sighs. “Some mysterious, muscular man coming to save the helpless woman story won’t run headlines.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

Perry feels a headache coming on.

“You asked about my encounter and I told you. I’m not here to be a headline.”

The man who thought of that “brilliant” idea is coated in embarrassment, feeling annoyed at receiving the heat.

“Anyone have any useful ideas?” Your boss asks with his thumbs pressing down on his temple.

There’s some chatter about this man and how he managed to save the plane, if he did. Some even discuss if he’s capable of being a potential threat to the country.

“You’re dismissed.” Perry says with a pointed look.

You leave with your head down and jaw tight, coming to sight with Mark.

“Excuse me.” You drop the hint of ignoring him but he doesn’t care.

“Going somewhere?” He asks with a smug expression.

You still push past him with him only to turn around and tail you.

“Yeah. Some of us have jobs to do.”

You don’t care how you look and/or sound.

You just got reduced a damsel-in-distress by a board member while your boss ignored him. Granted, he stuck up for you when it came time but he also dismissed you like you weren’t needed anymore.

Mark pokes a tongue into his cheek, his frustration with you at its boiling point. “And what’s yours? Playing hooky with Superman?”

You don’t know whether to be offended or question the ridiculous choice of name for the man, first.

You choose the first option as it’s the most relevant.

“What did you just say to me?”

He smirks like he just found a pressure point on you. He takes a step closer. “You heard me.”

He actually thinks he's got you this time.

“What, got nothin' to say now that Kent isn't here to save you?”

All that annoyance you were feeling just know? Yeah, that's amplified by a thousand now that he brought that up.

“I can stick up for myself, and I definitely won’t take any shit from you.” You spite. “If I took that promotion back then, you would’ve been fired and on your ass in less than a minute.”

You're pulling rank but it isn't rage-bait if it's true.

He's seething now. A vein protrudes from his forehead and he inhales deeply to try to keep himself together as much as possible.

“Oh, I know how you got that promotion.” He spits that venom so carelessly with the most malicious intent.

You squint your eyes in suspected belief.

Mark continues his verbal assault.

“Yeah,” He nods. “It wasn't that hard to figure out why the old man favors you so much.”

You were right, it had been what you were thinking.

The envy in him has always given off a strong stench, he literally gives the evil eye to those better than him in every way possible.

At your loss of words and hurt expression, he smirks before delivering what he thinks is the final blow. “I’m willing to bet you slept your way to the top.”

In this very moment, you realize you don’t have to listen to his shit any longer.

Your strike his face, open-handed; hard. A powerful smack resulting in a red handprint on his blanched face.

The ear on that side of his face rings piercingly loud and in his disoriented state, nearly collapses onto the floor.

A chorus of sharp gasps and sound grimaces snap you out of the adrenaline-fueled rage consuming you.

It seems that you’ve gathered quite a crowd of spectators. The horrified look on your face isn't nearly enough to convince your innocence to anyone just joining now joining in.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Perry's voice booms.

You shakily inhale, meeting his accusing gaze and you watch as he tracks a path between you and Mark writhing on the floor.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes at his pathetic acting.

“Get in here. Right. Now.”

With your chin up, you walk right past the whimpering mess on the floor; your heel almost crunching his fingers if it weren't for his reaction time.

You know you shouldn't be the one to feel embarrassed but there's still a part of you that does.

After all that you've put into this place, some overzealous, whiny little piece of shit wants to humiliate you by attempting to slutshame? In this day and age?

You huff in exasperation of being on your way to overstimulation by the very quick turn of events.

You're already sat when Mark comes in and Perry shuts the door, but not before yelling at everyone to get back to work.

You feel your victim to your far right, not wanting to sit down.

“Sit down, Mark.” Perry says before looking at him quizzically. “And why are your hands covering only one side of your face?”

You bite back an explanation and a smirk.

Mark doesn't say anything but instead opts to show, he drops both hands hesitantly to his sides.

Perry's reaction is nothing short of priceless. He thinks about exclaiming but when side-eyeing you and carefully assessing your careless reaction, he clocks it.

“I was counting on you being bitch-slapped one of these days but I was not expecting you to be dumb enough to try her.” He dryly chuckles in half admiration and half disappointment.

“Sir? You're actually siding with her right now?”

You close your eyes and mentally prepare to be fired.

Perry’s expression is that of a Don’t try me and Mark actually takes it seriously this time.

Wonder what’s the difference in you giving him that look and Perry…

“What happened, L/n?”

You open your eyes nervously and take a breath, preparing yourself to speak your truth.

“I slapped him… because he accused me of sleeping my way to the top for the promotion.”

There’s about a few seconds of silence before Perry speaks up.

“What.” He just says but it’s his tonal shift that makes Mark sweat.

“W-well, I just said that in the heat of the moment.” He chuckles nervously. “I didn’t mean that—”

Perry pinches the bridge of his nose to try to calm himself down. “I have no tolerance for this kind of behavior, Callahan. You know that.”

Said boy clears his throat and sniffs. “Y-yes sir, I do—”

“Then why did you do it?” Perry’s eyes bore into his with such intensity, it makes you a bit uneasy as well.

Mark opens and closes his mouth trying to come up with an answer to that obviously rhetorical question like a fish.

At his lack of words, your boss scratches his forehead. “Here’s an easier one: what did you think you were accomplishing by demeaning her character like that?”

Still no answer.

He puts a finger on Mark's chest, pressing into it as he says, “I’ll tell you. She is your superior because she, unlike you, gets it. She gets this job, what it means to be a reporter.”

His condescending tone towards the other male isn't unheard of but it sure as hell surprises you a lot.

Mark tightens his jaw and turns his head to look at you in malice. “With all due respect, sir, you should understand why I said that.”

“I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing.” His gruff voice reverberates through the walls, causing you to straighten your back.

Perry then carefully and slowly says, “Get the fuck outta here, you’re fired.”.

Mark dares to speak up even now. “But, sir—”

“Right now!” The older man barks his orders and like the sad little puppy Mark is, follows one last time.

When he leaves, Perry sighs and turns to sit down in his chair. He pours himself a drink, offering one to you.

You stare at him wearily before declining but he pours you a drink, anyway.

He silently takes a sip, prompting you to do the same and you feel the smooth, mellow taste of Brandy.

He groans, satisfied with the drink.

You set your glass down, feeling your nerves becoming slightly undone by the aftertaste.

It’s momentarily quiet, the awkward silence now comfortable.

You’re the first to break it. “Am I being fired?”

This is apparently funny to him because he laughs. Yes, he wheezes before giving in to the chest-laugh every man his age has.

You awkwardly chuckle along, not knowing if that's the right move.

He sighs in satisfaction once more.

“Y/n,” He begins warmly. “I can't fire you after that shitshow.”

Anyone else would think that statement was made in fear of being seen as an asshole who doesn't stand in solidarity with women but not you.

Perry White can put on a show of being a bitter old man but now's not one of those times.

“You did what you had to do and since I'm being honest,” He leans in a little like he's about to share a secret. “I'm glad you gave me a reason to kick his ass out.”

That brings a soft smile on your face, one that expresses your gratitude.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

“Most bosses wouldn't give a fuck.” The word rolls off your tongue with such smoothness, you forgot to code switch.

He takes no mind and instead lets you talk informally, he gathers you deserve that much.

“I'm not most bosses.” He wittily replies with a wink and tight-lipped smile.

“No, you are not.” You say with an appreciative nod.

You ignore everyone that didn't need your help for the remainder of the day.

As Mark took the walk of shame, it made you feel a little better when you saw people who you've never spoken to give him dirty looks and shake their head at him in disapproval.

Even though he got at least half of what he deserved, you still felt the aftermath of his words. They stung and it just made you think, how many other people feel that way?

You drowned yourself in work, you felt as if you're now obligated to work twice as hard.

Then you hear him.

“Y/n?”

You move your head from your hand and look up above your computer, spotting no other than your trusty colleague and friend.

“Clark, hey. What’re you doing here?”

“Hey, I was just about to ask you that.” He says with a boyish smile and points at you.

You smile back instinctually. “I'm just finishing up some stuff, meeting deadlines.”

“Ah.” He nods.

You eye the time and decide to save what you have left, planning to resume tomorrow.

“I was doing the same.”

You put on your jacket and grab your purse, walking out with him.

“This late?”

Poor guy, you hope he doesn't have a workload as big as yours if he's staying until almost 2 am.

��Yeah.” Clark sighs tiredly. “Perry gave me Mark's last assignment.”

You pause locking your office door, not expecting that answer.

Clark pretends not to notice.

As you enter the elevator (before clark, of course), you make light conversation.

“So ready to go home to my bed.” You tip your head back close your eyes, letting yourself rest for a moment.

“For real, I was about to fall asleep at my desk if it wasn’t for you.”

Both of your eyes open. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I was the only person here but then I saw your lamplight on so, I figured why not fight it for as long as I can.”

Had he stayed this long for you?

“Clark…”

You feel guilty and why wouldn’t you? He was basically waiting on you to call it in and stood by the entire time.

“It’s okay! No harm done.” He insists.

He was actually meaning to go home the same time you were, so he could talk to you.

He knows how pathetic that sounds but he'd rather be a pathetic man with a crush, even if that sounds elementary.

Instead, he opts on telling a half truth. “I needed the extra hours anyway.”

You turn to face him. “You did?”

Uh oh. He wasn’t supposed to say that.

Stupid sleep-deprived brain making him say things he’s not supposed to.

“Yeah, cause my research and work ethic is different from Mark’s.” He purses his lips and nods lightly.

Though he may look confident on the outside, he’s freaking out on the inside.

What was he supposed to say, the truth? Yeah, I was out late saving the planet one country at a time. That kind of stuff tends to get tiring if I have to wake up on time, ha ha ha.

He hopes you believe him and don’t inquire any further so he won't have to come up with another lie.

You hum before yawning lightly. “Makes sense.”

Clark watches you cover your mouth with the back of your hand and notices how you close your eyes when you yawn.

He also notes that you're really comfortable around him. You don't think twice about saying certain things in front of him.

He likes being the reason you let your guard down, he does the same around you.

You can see him staring into the side of your face so you turn your head, meeting his warm yet intimidating stare.

Your lips automatically purse into the friendliest awkward smile you have and he returns the sentiment.

You both then look away simultaneously. You look up at the countdown whereas he looks down on the shining metallic floor.

There’s still 25 more floors to go before you meet the garage parking lot.

The atmosphere grows a little awkward but is forgiven as there’s a shared understanding: you’re both fucking exhausted.

Though, there is something Clark wants to talk to you about.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening then closing as he thinks about how to bring this topic up.

“I heard about what happened.”

You slowly turn your head to him wordlessly, waiting for him to continue.

He stares back at you and you notice how blue his eyes look under fluorescent light.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, affected by the outburst as anyone else who gave a damn.

You’re touched.

“You don’t have to apologize, Clark.” You say as you look down at your shoes, suddenly growing shy of his eyes.

“I know,” He says. “But I care.”

The sentiment doesn't go unnoticed. Your lips turn up appreciatively.

“I know that as a woman, I'll be undermined at times but that was seriously a low blow.” You vent. “Even for him.”

Your disappointment isn't hard to assess. Even though you knew he'd be the one to say something like that, you still would've liked to be proven wrong.

Clark feels for you, you shouldn't have to feel alienated by your colleagues.

“I'm sorry nobody spoke up. I would have.”

“I know.” You say. “Thanks, Clark.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

You think about how nice it is of Clark to say this but you’re reminded of his absence prior.

“Where were you today, by the way. I barely saw you.”

He lies straight through his teeth. “I was out running some errands.”

He was actually stopping a country from getting actively bombed but that’s a story for another time.

“Perry still giving you the Miranda treatment?”

He chortles at your reference. “What can I say, I make a great Andrea.”

“You do. Who’s your Emily?”

You both take a moment to think about this.

“I got nothin’.” You say.

Clark agrees, although he’s come up with an alternative approach.

“There’s Mark, but he’s more Emily to your Andrea.”

You make a motion to wrap your hands around your neck and pretend to choke yourself.

It gets a good laugh out of him.

You blow a soft raspberry. “I just want my Nate. Without the “I'm insecure and feeling jealous because my partner is having it better” part.”

You look up at him and say without thinking, “You’d make a great Nate.”

You’re so tired, very exhausted from the day taking a toll on you, which explains why you’re just saying random shit.

Clark feels hot, like his whole face is on fire. He chuckles bashfully, very obviously failing at trying to not let that affect him so much.

The elevator dings and you both look up, finding the doors to open and reveal the garage parking lot.

“So, what do you mean by that? Exactly.” He furrows his brows and pushes his glasses up.

You step out, feeling all of your nerves turn to ice as you realize the weight of your words. “Oh, you know. You'd be a supporting and secure boyfriend.”

He's stumped, left watching as you walk to your car.

You wave goodbye before getting into your car and he returns the gesture.

You turn to face him, walking backwards. “Good night, Clark.”

He feels the blood wash over his heart like the ocean returning to shore.

“Good night.” He murmurs fondly.

“Dude, this is a terrible idea.” Jimmy scolds. “Your worst one yet, and you barely have those!”

But Clark isn’t listening, he’s already made his mind up.

“If I like her as a man then I have to respect her as Superman.”

Okay, that was a bar, Jimmy concedes.

“Besides, she wouldn’t tell anyone.” Clark adds.

Of course you wouldn't tell anyone about Clark’s identity, he knows that.

“I know that,” Jimmy sighs. “But think of your relationship with her as Superman from a journalistic standpoint.”

Jimmy just wants the best for his best man, he wants Clark to really think about this. l

“She won’t let her bias for you stop her from doing her job, even if that means asking questions you can’t answer directly.”

Diving headfirst into something like a romantic relationship without going over the logistics is bound to crash and burn.

But it’s you, the same woman who understands him. You see him, know him. You’re not one to hide how comforted you feel when he’s around, he literally hears your heart rate when he dotes on you.

You must feel the same way. Right?

But how would you react to this? Would you still feel the same? Would you still view him as the same Clark who goes out of his way for you?

After some careful consideration, Clark comes to a conclusion.

“Okay.” He says.

Jimmy closes his eyes in relief, sighing at the fact that his friend chose his mind over his heart.

“I’m going to tell her everything.”

Jimmy slaps a palm across his forehead all wide-eyed, not believing he got bamboozled this way.

He now has to watch his best friend throw everything away for the ruzz (reporter huzz).

Clark feels a weight lifted from his chest at this decision. He's always wanted to tell you but his moral obligation was to this planet, regardless of what heart entails.

He walks to your office, stopping just before the door to check on his appearance. He moves his head to the side, inspecting his hair. He then fixes his tie and glasses.

Satisfied with himself, he knocks and waits for your approval.

“Come in.”

Clark pokes his head in comically.

Your eyes flit up and when you see him, giggle at his silliness. “Hey, you.”

His chest warms at the sight and sound of your delight.

You seem so easygoing, truly content when you smile or laugh. Do you know that?

His takes in your face.

Your hair shines from the light, cascading down your shoulders and framing your it nicely.

Your eyes are on him and every time you look at him, he feels as though he can tell you anything. And though they're beautiful, his favorite part about your face have to be your lips.

You're a very expressive person so your words and reactions make up everything about you.

He loves seeing them pull you into a smile and laugh, especially when he's the reason.

It’s like a reward, seeing you joyful because of him.

He's momentarily distracted by the sight, always on the verge of forgetting his objective as soon as your pretty lips move around.

You say his name like you're in the middle of something.

He blinks, shaking himself out of his daydream. “I'm sorry, what? I was not paying attention, I'm sorry.”

It's refreshing to see a man apologize so much but it feels weird coming from him.

“It's too early for this, I know.” You jest kindly. “I was asking what can I do for you?”

“Oh! Right, why I'm here.” He chuckles, embarrassed.

Get it together, Clark he warns himself mentally.

“I, um... I wanted to ask you something.”

You lean your elbows on your desk, giving him your undivided attention. “Sure, what's up?”

He walks to your desk, taking out a sticky note folded in half. He hands it to you.

I have something I want to talk about, meet me in the mailroom? Lunch on me ;)

You can't with this guy sometimes. Asking you to lunch via sticky note?

“That is seriously the cutest thing ever.” Lois coos.

You've been smiling since he gave the note to you, grinning at him as he walked out of your office.

You even did a celebratory squeal before containing yourself.

“Isn't it?” You giddily ask. “Ugh, he's so cute.”

Lois nods in agreement, wondering when she's gonna find her own Clark Kent.

“What do you think he wants to talk about?” You ask.

Lois looks at you bewildered. “What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?”

You stare at her expectantly, blinking.

“Oh my god.” She groans. “He's gonna tell you how bad he wants you, Y/n!”

“He is?” You say, hopeful.

She nods ecstatically and spins you around in your chair to face her. “Think about it. You two have been dancing around this unspoken attraction between you for how long?”

You instantly give her a time period. “Almost a month.”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Oh.” Your lips pull to the side, sheepishly. “Sorry. Continue.”

“The point is, he obviously feels for you. It was just a matter of when he’d get the balls to make the first move.”

You nod along, finding her logic unarguable.

“Okay. Okay, so I just walk in and tell him—”

“No, no, no. What? Don't do that! He's the one asking you to come over so let him go first.”

“Right, right.” You blink. “Let him go first, you're right.”

Lois puts a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. “You're nervous, and that's okay. Just breathe, be calm, cool, and collected. You're Y/n L/n, investigative reporter at the Daily Planet.”

“I’m Y/n L/n, investigative reporter at the Daily Planet.” You repeat like a mantra.

Lois smiles encouragingly, being your best hype-woman.

“You’re fucking amazing.”

You close your eyes and blindly trust her. “I’m fucking amazing.”

“You’re the baddest bitch here and you know it.”

You blow air deeply, feeling yourself relax a bit. “I’m the baddest… bitch here and I know it.”

“Fuck yeah, you do!” She exclaims and you find yourself smiling, shaking your head at her theatrics.

You fucking love this girl.

“You got this, okay? Don't think too much, it'll feel natural once you let him talk.”

You feel like you’re about to get in the boxing ring with your everything that could go wrong.

“Go get him, tiger!”

It's lunchtime and for the first time in history, you're not hungry.

You can't even think about eating out of anxiety.

You walk towards the mailroom and suspire when you go to twist the door handle.

You're immediately met with the dreamy pair of eyes you were hesitant to see.

You shut the door behind you, none of you want to be the one to move first.

“Hi.” He hums.

“Hi.” You say, equally as soft.

He clears his throat lightly and gestures you over, some sandwiches and sodas decorating the table.

“Panera?” You say with glee.

His lips pull back at your reaction. “Yup.”

You reign in your excitement, remembering why you came here in the first place.

“So.” You hint subtly.

“Sooo.”

You tilt your head at him, narrowing your eyes playfully at him. “Sooo, what'd you have to tell me?”

He clicks his teeth. “That's the question.”

You tip your head back and half-whine, half-laugh. “Oh my god, stop baiting me!”

Clark finds humor in edging you on like this, how often does he get to see you so highstrung?

“Okay, okay, alright.” He airily chuckles. “I'll stop.”

You blink patiently, the remnants of a grin on your face.

He soughs, building up the confidence to tell you how just much he feels for you.

“Okay.” He licks his lips, meeting your gaze.

He's caught, mesmerized by the way your attention is on him. He doesn't realize just how heavy his stare is until he watches you squirm.

“Clark..?” You call out to him thinking he's spacing out.

“Sorry.” He says on default, though he's not really apologetic for anything at all.

You're just so—

“Beautiful.”

Your breath catches in your chest and he's mortified.

“I, I just said that... outloud.” He stammers.

You watch him scramble for a way out.

“I'm sorry— not that you aren't beautiful, which you are. You so are.”

He cringes at himself and you hold back a simper, finding him so endearing.

“I just, um... Alright, here's the thing.” He claps both hands together softly.

“Mhm.” You nod, furrowing your eyebrows and to show you're just as serious about what he has to say.

“I... I have, uh— wait, no. That's not right.” He mutters to himself.

You come closer, standing right in front of him. “Clark.”

He looks down, stunned at your proximity and stops babbling.

“Just say it.” You coax gently. “Whatever it is, I'm sure we can work through it, together.”

Together. He thinks about the good ending, the one where you do end up getting together.

As you look up at him with those kind eyes, he feels everything he has to say come right out.

“I can't stop thinking about you.” He confesses.

You blink, startled by this even though you were expecting it.

“I like you, a-a lot, and I have so much to tell you.”

Clark's eyes flit between yours, desperately searching somewhere for you to feel the same.

He hears your heartbeat skyrocket, he feels your hands shake slightly from the adrenaline. The smell of your perfume thickens the air and he can't get enough. He can almost taste the color of your lips with how close they are.

He gulps, growing jumpy from your silence.

“Say something, please.” He whispers.

Another moment of quiet, not voluntarily. You're just trying to find the right words, yourself.

“I... I feel the same.”

That familiar megawatt smile graces his lips and you feel the tables turn, you in his previous postition and he in yours.

“I have for a long time.”

His eyes crease at that and he can't help the laughter bubbling out of him.

You laugh with him, not believing this is happening right now.

“You have no idea how long I've been holding that in.” He tells you, leaning on the table behind him.

“Not longer than me.” You suppose.

His eyes quirk up, silently asking you to go first.

So you do. “Since you started bringing me my daily dose of energy.”

He hums.

“Now, you.”

He looks at you with the fondest expression ever, you hold yourself back from kissing him stupid.

“Since my first day.” His voice thick with honey.

Your eyes soften and though he's won, you don't take this as a loss.

“Seriously?”

You don't mean to be so anticlimactic but how else does one react to feelings of romance being reciprocated?

As if Clark Kent couldn't get any more attractive, he takes your hand with the utmost care and rests it right on top of his heart.

“Can you feel that?” He asks while gauging your every little microreaction.

It speeds up gradually as your hand connects with the fabric of his shirt, pure electricity binding you together.

You nod, involuntarily fighting the tears you sense.

“Aw, don't cry.” He cradles your face in his hands and you close your eyes, overwhelmed by his affection for you.

“Come on, let me see you.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch your shy eyes.

When you finally do, he smiles so brightly that you swear it's like looking directly into the sun.

“There she is.”

You chuckle weakly, sniffling once.

He lets go of your face and can't resist the temptation of not touching your arms. He rubs them up and down a couple times, feeling goosebumps arise in their wake.

“Can I have a hug?” You ask, looking back at him through your lashes.

He feels his heart stop right there, that look sends him over the edge and you don't even know it.

Clark wordlessly leans down and pulls you in, his strong arms wrap around your waist comfortingly while you reach up on your toes.

You rest your head on his shoulder and feel your hearts beating under each other so passively, a sigh escaping the confines of both your mouths simultaneously.

Something about this feels like déjà vu, like you've been in a similar position.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

“Remember that conference I was supposed to go to in DC but got cancelled because the jet almost crashed?”

He pulls away with a straight face, hiding the absolute chaos unfurling behind those eyes.

“Yeah..? Why?”

You look at the door then back at him.

“I haven't told anyone about this but afterwards, Superman came by my place.”

“What? No way!” Clark gasps.

You nod cooly.

“So, what happened? What'd you guys talk about?”

You tell him how he stopped by to return your purse but something has been bugging you since.

“I just don't know how he got my address.”

“Oh, that's easy.” He doesn't feel like playing this game anymore, too many sweats. “I know where you live.”

You’re perplexed and then some because what does that mean?

“What are you saying?”

He puts both hands on your shoulders and gives you a riddled look that says, Come on, think about it. You know what I’m saying.

A lightbulb turns on in your head but it can’t be. There’s just no way you’re thinking what he’s thinking.

You’re too flabbergasted to say a word. You just stare at him, open-mouthed and wide-eyed as you say it out loud.

“You’re… you’re— you,” You chuckle dryly, your head spinning a bit. “You’re Superman?”

He doesn’t give any indication of agreeing with you but his silence does.

Clark’s trying to get a read on you.

You then cover your mouth with both hands, muffling an excited ‘Oh my god!’.

He feels reassured.

“You’re Superman!” You whisper-scream.

“Yes, yes. I am.” He nods while checking the door to see anyone coming in.

You just stare at him in wonder, taking this all in.

It all makes perfect sense.

Who else would be selfless enough to protect those who can’t protect themselves? To have integrity the most Clark Kent trait you can think of.

You know Clark has a big heart but this? This is next level.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He looks at you like the answer to that is simple, which to him, is. It’s always going to be simple if it involves you.

“I don’t want to start this on a lie.” He reveals as those damned blue eyes fixate on you.

You can fly right now.

He leans in ever so slowly, tracking any detail on your face that may give away the impression of not wanting him in your space.

When he finds none and is absolutely sure, he puts a hand on your cheek and asks, “Can I kiss you?”.

“Yes.” You sound softly and it’s as if a prayer has been answered.

Your eyes flutter shut and he parts his lips for you, you anticipate them to be just as soft and lush as they seem.

He believes he’ll finally be able to understand the languid nature of your mouth and decipher its meaning.

Sparks fly when you make contact, it strengthens the electricity that makes your chemistry.

The kiss is a breath of fresh air, the kind that blows in quietly; peacefully.

He’s sweet, undoubtedly so. His palms hesitantly splay across the curves on your waist. You smile at the soft touch and he does as well.

Your hands are on his chest and you can feel every pulse, flutter, and pang of his heart.

You think it’s poetic; the influence you have on his heart, both figuratively and literally.

He rests his forehead on yours and you look up at him from under your lashes.

He’s about to speak up when he hears something, something you don’t.

His ears perk in the direction of the distressed sound and he turns his head apologetically.

“I have to go.” He regretfully informs.

You reach up to kiss his cheek and rid him of guilt.

“When you come back, I’ll be right here.”

Clark hugs you once more and asks, “You’re my hero, you know that?”.

You chortle and respond with, “Is that Superman talking or you?”.

“Both.” He pulls back with a kiss on your head, winking at you with a cheeky grin.

He runs out the door and leaves you with the ghost of his touch and words that form a sappy smile on your face.

Superman may be the world’s hero, but Clark Kent is yours.

[cloudkohv]

I agree! Moash and Kaladin absolutely have more in common, which gives us more room to compare them in their responses to their mistreatment. This is a really thoughtful comparison between them as well.

I definitely see where you're coming from when it comes to talking about how Moash could have been part of that force for positive change, and how vindictiveness was his undoing. But here, we run into the same problem that arises from their responses to systemic injustice. There are couple of places where I disagree.

Where I disagree here is that Kaladin was not a direct victim of lighteyed pettiness. Roshone went after Lirin, yes, but that resulted in Kaladin's entire family being thrown into poverty, which affected him directly. Kaladin is witness to Roshone abusing his power when Lirin and Roshone are in conversation, and Roshone makes comments about how he doesn't like "darkeyes acting out of place" (paraphrasing). Kaladin changes at that moment because he doesn't want anyone to abuse their power over him.

When it comes to the case of Amaram choosing Tien and not Kaladin, nothing would change the fact this is still a case of a lighteyes abusing his power (Roshone insisting that Tien be chosen). As an aside, we're in Kaladin's head, so we're able to see him as a skilled individual who made the decision to protect his brother. But if we were in Amaram's POV, we wouldn't think there's any notable difference between Tien or Kaladin. They're both young darkeyed recruits. And because they're darkeyed, they're disposable. It's one of the reasons Tien was killed, and in fact, this is part of the main reason why Amaram betrays Kaladin in the first place. Nobody would care about the "opinion of a single darkeyed spearman" (paraphrasing).

I'm assuming you meant Kaladin remained a slave because he is humble, and not that he became a slave because he's humble. But even then, there's the fact that Kaladin did not want to remain a slave. By the time we meet him in TWOK, he'd already had several failed attempts at slave rebellions. One of which is detailed in OB in one of the flashbacks. The thing that keeps him a slave is the pure fatigue of trying to fight for freedom in a system designed to oppress him. We know how important protecting people is to him, so we can only imagine that these failed rebellions hurt even more, not because he never escaped, but because the people who trusted him got hurt or killed, which is horrific on its own. But on top of that, it's weighed by depression. His desire to get revenge on Amaram stems not just from what Amaram did to him, but because of the world that allowed someone like Amaram to do what he did and get away with it.

Kaladin doesn't like any lighteyes for the entirety of TWOK up until the end of WOR because of what their class is allowed to do and get away with (I think he says this directly when arguing with Shallan near the end). He argues about it with Syl often, telling her that they're all the same and that they all lie. Obviously this is just set-up for the book to show us how different Dalinar is, but that's besides the point.

The entire caste system relies on darkeyes' mistreatment, which Moash and Kaladin dislike. It doesn't quite matter how high ranked a darkeyed person gets because there will always be a lighteyed person to put them in their place, which we saw after the duel in WOR. Kaladin by that point was an excellent example of a darkeyed person working hard to follow all the rules and be a good leader and so on (the model minority if you will), and he even saved Adolin in the duel. But all of that went to rot because he sought a boon as a darkeyed man. No amount of him being excellent will be enough for people who see him as disposable, or at the very least, beneath him.

When Moash gets the shards and plate, he's excited to enact his vengeance, but he also specifically tells Kaladin that he feels like Bridge Four's "secret weapon." This to me means that he can enact changes that benefit darkeyes, whatever they may be. It means that he can't be made disposable now.

I think this might be where I diverge from a lot of readers' opinions on on Elhokar, but I don't care to see him get redeemed--I care about him being brought to justice, because he's hurt so many people from his poor leadership. His desire to improve comes from his desire to improve public perception of him. I don't mind reading about an Elhokar redemption arc if those issues were to be addressed fully.

I'm sorry this is already so long, so I'll try to end this soon lol. But one thing I want to touch on are the kinds of words we're using in this discussion. What makes something vengeance/revenge, versus it being justice? I remember Moash specifically asking Kaladin how could a man like him get justice on a king. And it's a good question. What could Moash do? Participate in the system that rewarded his class' oppression? How far would that get him when someone like Kaladin was still locked up for having the wrong eye color when he saved someone's life?

This is where there's an interesting divergence between the two characters, but I don't believe Sanderson handled it well at all, since it requires a nuanced understanding of race/class and systemic injustice. Kaladin is put in a position of leadership in the government, and Moash eschews this in favor of creating change (whatever it may be) from the outside. We could have seen Kaladin live out the idea that he could change the system from the inside, but this doesn't happen. We get throwaway moments where Jasnah waves away slavery and how things like eye color "strangely stopped mattering," which just shows Sanderson's poor grasp on sociological issues, because these things would actually matter much more during a time of such strife (I could go on forever just about this lol). Also, Moash does want the system to change. There was a part in OB where he was specifically disappointed that the everstorm hadn't thrown the caste system out of control, and found that the disparities increased with participation from people of all eye colors. Because of his disillusionment with human society, he chose the dark side (anakin nooooo).

Overall, while Stormlight Archive might be about personal narratives, these personal narratives for the most part happen within the context of social strife, as we both mentioned. The problem is that this social strife is only addressed in favor of the oppressive nobility (forgive Elhokar, trust Dalinar), and never in favor of those who were made victims of it.

The scene that holds the some of most impact for me in oathbringer, is when moash is travelling with a group of enslaved parshmen.

The overseers are portrayed to be horrific abusers, whipping any of the parshmen that don't obey their orders or aren't behaving up to their standards.

Moash watches this from the carriage, incredibly familiar with this violence as it was directed toward him and his fellow bridgemen, though the methods may have been different. But he's never lost the righteous anger that makes him who he is. And so, once that overseer reaches his group, raising the whip to strike someone near him, Moash places himself right in front of that weapon. And he catches it.

Just this action alone made the scene for me. You know how a picture says a thousand words? Picture the snapshot of that moment where Moash caught the whip. All I thought was "I will protect those who cannot protect themselves."

Then, after telling off the overseer, he pulls what I can only describe as a "Kaladin move," and has other injured parshman ride in the wagon near the back to heal up. And you know what was so special about the move he pulled? "Nobody dared to raise a whip against any of the parshmen again."

[ayexaye]

hiii making a request; Shidou x fem reader where she’s the force that kinda grounds him?? friends to lovers type beat. prettypleasecantheykiss

a/n; sorry this took me so long for some reason 😭 I took DAYS to write this I was struggling so much, mostly cause its hard for me to imagine shidou being calm in any capacity LMAO hopefully it turned out okay and thank you so much for the request <3

── .✦

˚⋆｡°✩₊ Let me into your heart ᡣ𐭩

Shidou Ryusei x reader, headcanons and a short fic [700~ words]

── .✦

-When you two first meet, you're one of the few people that don't flinch away when he says or does something crazy, which is what gets him interested in you in the first place

-Something about you makes him actually listen to you. If he's too “intense” you just give him a look and he just calms down

-Even though he pretends to brush you off and acts like he doesn't care about your opinion, he always ends up following whatever you want in the end

-You don't scold him for how he acts, and it reminds him that he isn't some kind of monster

-Once you become close friends, you're very much a safe place for him, a place he can be vulnerable, even if only a little

-Partly because you can tell so quickly when he's genuinely upset about something

Shidou was never good at staying still or being quiet, and you know that well from being friends with him.

His shoes scuffed against the floor with every bounce of his foot. He stared at you from across the café table, leaning against his palm. You paid him no mind, continuing to read through your textbook (much like he was also supposed to be doing).

He let out a groan, leaning back in his seat and dragging his hands down his face dramatically, loud enough to draw in glares and side eyes from other people in the café.

“You're so boring- this is so boring! Can't we go do somethin’ fun?? I don't wanna study anymore.”

“You're the one who said you wanted help with this chapter,” you replied, not bothering to look up from your notes.

“Well I lied,” he said, leaning closer to you. “I just wanted a reason to hang out with you.”

“Shocking.”

“You should be shocked,” he grinned. “I don't give my time to just anyone, babe.”

You glanced up at him with a half-hearted glare. He laughed, leaning back in his chair again—so far you think it might fall over.

“You're gonna get us kicked out…” You muttered as you closed your book. He scoffed, letting his chair fall forwards again, the front legs banging against the ground with a loud thud. “And don't call me that.”

“So you're done?” He asked excitedly, eyes lighting up when you shove your notes back into their folder.

“For now. Since someone can't seem to last 5 minutes without causing a scene.”

“Me?” He pointed at himself in mock offense, scoffing. “But I've been so well behaved!”

“Do you think threatening to punch someone on our way here is well behaved?” You countered.

“He looked at you weird! And I didn't actually punch him.”

You rolled your eyes as both of you stood up. Once you both got out of the café, he latched his arm around your shoulder. “C'mon, I'll walk you home. I deserve it for being such a good boy today, don’tcha’ think?”

You failed to hold in your laugh, and didn't try to shrug him off as his arm stayed comfortably slung around you. You walked together quietly for a while.

It always seemed like Shidou was calmer like this when it was just the two of you.

“I honestly don't understand why you like hanging out with me all the time,” you admitted.

Shidou shrugged. “I mean, you give me shit sometimes but… I kinda like that you can put me in my place, y'know?”

“Someone's gotta do it, or else you'll end up in trouble all the time.”

You finally arrived at your front porch, and you turned to face him. “Well... Thanks for the walk.”

Shidou didn't move, eyes focused on you. “Do you want me to leave?”

You paused. He was uncharacteristically serious as he waited for your answer.

“Uhm—It's kinda late.” You cleared your throat, suddenly unable to meet his intense gaze. Truth be told, you weren't sure yourself if you wanted him to leave. But saying that out loud.. “Probably should…”

Shidou must have been able to read your hesitation, because as soon as you turned towards your door, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer. Your heart pounded suddenly in your chest.

“I don't wanna leave yet,” he said quietly. “Especially if you don't want me to.”

You sucked in a sharp breath as he leaned closer to you.

“I can be good for you. I will.”

“Shidou—”

His free hand cradled your cheek. “Let me?”

His eyes bore into yours, desperate, hungry. But you could also sense a rare uncertainty from him, like he wasn't used to wanting something so badly without knowing if he would actually be able to get it.

You nodded, and it was all he needed to lean in and kiss you. His hand slipped from your wrist to your waist, shockingly delicate compared to how rough he kissed you. When he finally pulled away, you were speechless.

“You don't gotta say anything. I've just been wantin’ to do that for a while.”

“Then..” Your hand latched onto the collar of his jacket, pulling him with you as you opened your front door. “I think you should do it again.”

── .✦

𖹭.ᐟ Masterlist — thank you for reading! likes/reblogs/comments are greatly appreciated <3

[ta3mint]

okok i LOVEDDD blush, now i need a part 2 of the reader and minho walking back to the dorms after leaving the party ofc y/n is still pretty out of it from the alcohol and the whole walk back y/n is being very giddy and flirty bc they both just confessed their feelings to each other so she’s giving him praises and being very h word towards him (bc lowkey i be like that too when im drunk and sometimes when you’re drunk people just seem a lot more attractive) minho is a lil taken a back but loving every second of it, once they reach the dorms y/n has now sobered up a bit, she remembers the confession, but doesn’t remember anything else she said/did (doesn’t really recall making out with him either) after that and minho is teasing her about it they end up finishing what they started at the party, but decide to go a little further 👀. i also just wanna see domesticated lee know taking care of y/n to feed my acts of service love language

Blush (Part 2)

Contains: sequel to Part 1, university au Minho x female reader smut

Warnings: minors do not interact!!, Mentions of alcohol/being drunk, cursing, vague mentions of nausea, Minho being a possessive little shit, teasing, kind of dom Minho but not too crazy (still a consent king), use of the word slut, fingering, unprotected piv sex (don't do this!!)

Word Count: 6,000

Author's note: okay okay, I tweaked the order of events just a bit because I like the way it ended up flowing <3 I hope it's what you're looking for and that you like it!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) you know where to find me.

Despite Minho offering several times to get someone to drive you back to your dorm, you declined each time. Something told you that being in a car right now would only make your stomach churn even more than it already was, now that the alcohol was trying to work its way out of your system.

Minho reluctantly continued walking you back to your dorm, supporting your weight as much as he could when you were walking more slowly with each step you took.

You groaned suddenly and Minho froze in concern.

"Maybe we should sit down on the sidewalk for a second, (Y/N)."

He didn't let you agree or disagree with him, and instead settled you down on the nearest part of the sidewalk before sitting down beside you.

You had to admit, not moving felt great for the time being. Some of your mental clarity had started to come back, and some of it...had not. You couldn't remember exactly what had happened at the party a little while ago besides the confession, but you knew that you were grateful for Minho to be here taking care of you.

The more you thought about it and thought about him...the more wild your imagination began to be. And the more you imagined, the more came out of your big mouth.

"Minho, thank you for taking care of me," you giggled, leaning over onto his shoulder for support. You reached out your hand and placed it on his thigh closest to you, squeezing it hard in your drunken, maybe slightly turned on state. "I've always wanted to feel these," you finished in a whisper.

Minho watched where your hand landed on his thigh and he swallowed hard.

You couldn't help but notice the sheen of sweat on his skin, likely brought on by him basically supporting your entire body weight on this long walk back to your dorm room. The way his chest rose and fell, the way his breath fanned across the top of your head...it was driving you crazy.

"Are you just saying that?" Minho asked you quietly, the slightest hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You shook your head almost violently.

"No, no. I mean it," you whispered, sitting up slightly so that you could see his face better. "You are beautiful, every part of you. I've always thought so."

Minho gave in to his urge to smile before he stood up. He reached out a hand to you to help you up, and you returned his smile as a ''thank you''.

"Come on, then. You can tell me more about it once we get to your room."

~

Thankfully, you were almost there. You could see your building now, at least. But sitting down for a few minutes had really helped. You felt more steady while walking this time around, and your thoughts weren't as clouded.

Minho got to the bottom of the steps that led up to the second floor where your room was at. You were trailing behind just a bit, but not too much. Once you closed the gap, Minho glanced between where you stood and the top of the stairs a few times.

"I don't know if you walking up the steps right now is a good idea," Minho said, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Oh, please. I'll be fine!"

You brushed past him and put one foot on the first step. Looking at all the steps after that one though...

"Okay," you sighed in defeat, "Maybe not."

Minho chuckled. "Like I said..."

"What are we supposed to do then? The elevator has been broken for days, Minho."

He looked up the stairs once more and then back at you, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes. He then pondered his next words carefully.

"You said you like it when I take care of you?"

You nodded slowly, not sure exactly where this was going.

Minho put a hand on your shoulder, sending what felt like electric currents through your body. You sharply drew in a breath as he leaned in close to your ear, like he wanted only you to hear what he was about to say.

"Then be a good girl and let me carry you to your room."

The hallway around you started spinning. Whether it was the last bit of the alcohol or his words...you weren't sure.

"Okay," you whispered in return.

Minho bent over slightly and placed one arm under the back of your legs and the other behind your shoulders. With surprising ease, he swept you up into his arms and glanced down at you.

"This okay?"

"Mmhmm," was all you could manage.

"Good," he breathed out with a smile.

You couldn't look anywhere else other than at his face while he carried you up the steps. His smile alone was enough to make you melt, and it always had been. But he looked so gorgeous from the side like this, you felt as if you were studying him like a textbook. Had he always looked this good?

Who were you kidding, of course he had.

Minho could feel you staring and despite knowing better, he couldn't help but eat it up.

"See something you like, (Y/N)?"

Heat crept up from your neck into your cheeks, and that was what it took for you to finally blink after staring for so long.

"Sorry, I can't help it. I've looked at you from what felt like far away for so long...it's nice to finally be able to see you up close."

"The feeling is mutual."

Minho glanced down at your lips and back up at your eyes, so quickly you weren't sure if you had imagined it or not. But now you were at your door, and he was setting you down.

You rummaged in your bag and got your key out to unlock your door. It creaked open, and you stepped inside, Minho standing behind you almost timidly compared to how he had acted a few moments ago.

"You can come in, you know."

Minho blinked a few times and stepped in after you, looking around your living room.

It still looked just like you had left it. Clothes everywhere from trying to decide what to wear and accessories strewn about on random surfaces. But this was where you normally got ready since you had a better mirror in here compared to the one in your bedroom.

"Sorry for the mess...getting dressed for the party was stressful."

You tugged at the bottom of your skirt, suddenly hyper aware of how short it actually was. Minho followed your movements, before clearing his throat and turning around.

"Let's get you something to eat and drink that isn't alcohol."

As soon as he finished speaking, your stomach grumbled.

"Yeah, I'm starving. And I feel a lot better now," you said as you flopped onto your small couch by the door.

"Good," Minho said earnestly.

You watched as he dug around your small kitchen cabinets. He was wearing a loose hoodie with a white tank top underneath. This was the first time that you noticed how built he actually was. Lean, taut muscles pulling against the fitted white fabric of his tank top, covered up every few seconds by his hoodie when it shifted as he moved. The silver necklace he wore swayed and bounced against his perfectly defined chest. Not too big and not too obvious. It was like a secret he kept, and you were just now hearing it for the first time.

"Are these okay?" Minho asked, holding up two packs of instant noodles.

His words cut your thoughts short, and you gave him a thumbs up, not trusting your mouth right now.

Minho turned to get some water for the noodles and you decided you needed to look at something else. Like literally anything else, for right now.

You pulled out your phone and instantly saw how many messages were in the group chat with you and the guys.

Felix had sent that video only minutes after you left the party, and the guys were letting you have it.

"Finally, it was getting painful."

"Geez, Minho, didn't know you had it in you."

"It should've been me!!"

Okay, so maybe your phone was something you didn't need to look at right now either. But you couldn't remember exactly what happened in the video Felix took. So, against your better judgement, you clicked on it.

Your cheeks were on fire as you watched yourself grab at Minho and him eventually kissing you.

Felix was struggling to not make any noise, and you could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"What are you looking at?" Minho asked, coming over to sit next to you with two bowls of noodles and two bottles of water.

"Did I...uhh...on the bench...did we?"

Minho snickered, setting the bowls down to cool off.

"You practically begged me to."

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as it all came crashing back to you. The plan you made, getting Felix to help you...all of it.

"That isn't how I really wanted our first kiss to go..." you trailed off, reaching for your noodles that were still slightly too hot. "I was just so nervous. I thought alcohol was the answer."

Minho listened to you speak, a genuine expression on his face. But he didn't interrupt.

"I hope you don't think differently of me."

He shook his head, reaching out to brush some hair out of your face.

"Never. I was nervous too. Now, eat your noodles, and let's relax, okay?"

The two of you ate silently, the only sounds in the room being your forks hitting the sides of your bowls. Finally eating something was definitely what you needed, and you were becoming your usual self.

But...

Your thoughts started wandering again. This definitely wasn't the alcohol anymore, this was just you. Finally giving into the fact that you and your best friend had confessed to each other, and you were sitting right next to him in a different context than before.

Something caught you off guard as you ate the last bite of noodles, however.

During the course of your thoughts wandering, Minho had removed his hoodie and threw it on the back of the couch behind him. Now he was sitting beside you in just the white tank top and his tight black pants.

You nearly choked on the last bite when you realized, and Minho almost jumped out of his skin.

"First day eating, too? Shit, you scared me," he grumbled as he clapped you gently on the back.

The choking had subsided, but tears had formed in your eyes in the meantime from how hard you had been coughing.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," you stuttered, wiping your eyes forcefully. "Just warn me next time you start stripping in my room. You're lucky I don't have roommates."

Minho scoffed. "You call this stripping? I only took off my hoodie because the noodles made me hot. Look at you, talking about stripping. Your ass has been hanging out of that skirt all night."

You froze, an icy wave of surprise taking over your body. These words were in stark contrast to the ones from before, when the both of you had been talking about how nervous you were. But it only took a second to recuperate, and you decided to have some fun with him. The way he looked, the way he sounded, the way he talked...it had been driving you wild since you started walking back to the dorms, drunk or not. You wanted to finish what you started.

"How would you know? Had you been looking?"

Now it was Minho's turns to be caught off guard, his ears turning a deep crimson.

"Don't play dumb. How could I not have looked? A few hours ago, I had what I thought was an unrequited crush on you. I had to stare in secret. Now, I can stare as obviously as I want." Minho threw his arm lazily over your shoulders before continuing. "Unless you don't want me to."

He gave you a quick side eye and instantly laughed when he saw you open and close your mouth several times, not being able to make words come out. Looks like he was better at playing with you than you were at playing with him.

"You are my girlfriend now, right? Isn't that what this is?"

You shot to your feet without thinking, Minho's arm falling to his side on the couch.

"I...I'm going to the bathroom!"

Minho called out to you in concern, but you ignored him. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest and you needed a minute.

You all but ran to your bathroom, shutting the door behind you in a hurry. Then you made the mistake of glancing at yourself in the mirror.

Your hair and makeup were a mess, but your clothes looked okay. Your skin was flushed and slightly shiny from what you could safely assume was a layer of nervous sweat. It looked like you but also...didn't.

You decided to fix your hair and take off all your makeup, since it was ruined anyway. This alone helped you feel cleaner and more put together. You couldn't believe that this version of you was what Minho had been looking at for the last little while. It made you cringe. Just for the sake of feeling even more like yourself, you also decided to quickly brush your teeth.

You made your way back to the couch, but Minho was no longer there. You sat down and watched as he rinsed out both of your bowls and placed them in the sink. His arms were another dirty little secret he had been keeping, perfectly sized muscles flexing as he worked in the dim light of your kitchen.

You could't help but imagine what they would look like wrapped around you, holding you close as-

"Hey, there you are." Minho was walking back over to where you had sat back down on the couch. "Feel okay?"

The way he was flipping back and forth between teasing you and being concerned for you was enough to make your head start spinning again.

"Oh, yeah, I just wanted to freshen up. I felt gross."

Minho hummed and knelt in front of you, giving your ankle a quick poke.

"You still have these heels on. Do you want them off?"

You gulped, looking down at him as he made eye contact with you from below. He looked almost ethereal now, the way his eyes glistened and his brows knit together, waiting on you to answer him so he knew what he had permission to do.

"Please," you all but squeaked.

Minho laughed quietly.

"So you like being taken care of and teased huh? I'll remember that."

You watched as he undid the first heel, seemingly getting the hang of all the straps pretty quickly. Using one hand to pull the shoe off, he used the other to grip your heel in order to keep you balanced. Then he repeated the same thing for the other shoe.

"Feels better, right?"

You managed an "mhmm" as you stared at where his hand still gripped your left heel, even though the shoes were long gone.

"I can't decide," Minho said suddenly.

You tilted your head to the side in confusion, not sure what he was referring to.

"I can't decide if I should be polite, or..." he whispered, dragging his hand from your heel to your knee, and then finally to your exposed upper thigh, "If I should let you know just how crazy you've been making me this entire time. All your little comments and the way I obviously make you feel...I've already slipped up a few times tonight. But here we are. And I never thought we would be here. It's enough to make me wanna lose any control I have left."

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart sped up again, so much so that you could hear it beating in your ears.

"I've been in love with you for years, (Y/N). I have dreamed of being this close to you, of being able to touch you like this," he continued, fiddling with the edge of your skirt on your thigh, "But I also try my best to be a gentleman. The kind of man you would want for a long, long time."

The room suddenly felt heavy and oh, so hot.

"So, now that you are feeling more like yourself and can give me honest answers, I just can't help but be tempted..." He stood slowly, placing his other hand on your right thigh.

Now that both of his hands were on you, gripping you tightly as he leaned over you on the couch, you felt as though you were short circuiting.

But it ended as soon as it started.

Minho let go of you suddenly with a groan and reached for his hoodie.

"I should go now," he said, as if the past five minutes didn't happen. "It's getting really late. And you need to sleep."

He turned back around and placed a quick kiss on the top of your head. You barely registered anything that was going on. You were completely stunned after having been thrown into a complete 360. The almost shy, sarcastic boy you had been crushing on for years had a completely different side to him that you had never seen.

You wanted to see more.

"Text me in the morning, okay?"

Minho started walking towards the door, but your hand was on his wrist the second he turned away. He stumbled a bit and looked back at you in confusion.

"Stay," you whispered, almost inaudibly. "Please."

"Why?"

Your head was spinning, your thoughts bouncing off of each other and then disappearing before you could say anything that made sense. All you knew was that you didn't want him to leave. You wanted him to stay and above all...you wanted to feel him touch you again.

"Why, (Y/N)?" Minho repeated.

You swallowed hard.

"Because, I..."

Minho watched as you struggled to decide what to say. He couldn't help but be amused with the way he made you feel.

"I want you to kiss me again. But for real this time. I want to remember it."

Minho paused for a few seconds. You stood up from the couch to be closer to him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He couldn't help but stare at the way your breasts pushed against the fabric of your low cut top.

"I'm your girlfriend, right? Isn't that what you said? I want you to kiss me."

That was all it took for Minho to fall apart completely.

He dropped his hoodie on the floor, not caring where it landed. Then he grabbed your face forcefully and his lips crashed into yours.

This kiss was beyond different from the one you shared on the bench at the party. That one had been fueled by giddy nerves and cheap alcohol. This one was laced with something deeper, something more primal. Minho kissed you hard...telling you things that he didn't need to say with words. At least, not yet.

At first, you had frozen. But once you registered what was going on, your entire body melted into him. His hands fell from your face to your hips, which he then used to turn you around so that you were backed up against the nearest wall. He was gentle, yet firm, so as not to hit your head.

Your fingers tangled in his perfect, dark hair to steady yourself, and he shivered at the feeling.

Minho gripped your hips tighter, his fingertips threatening to leave tiny bruises on your delicate skin. Your mouth parted slightly at the sensation, and Minho took the opportunity to slot his tongue against yours. It quickly got even more heated, both of your chins covered in remnants of each others' saliva.

Tongue and teeth and slippery skin...it was enough to make heat start to pool between your legs.

Minho pulled away to take a breath, and you were glad he did since you needed to breathe as well. But Minho seemed to catch his breath more quickly than you, turning his attention to your neck.

He left a trail of sloppy kisses down from your chin to your shoulder, and you gladly tilted your head back to give him more access. You felt almost drunk again, but this time you weren't drunk on alcohol.

Minho was the first to speak.

"(Y/N)," he sighed, nipping at the soft skin of your collarbone. "Tell me to stop and I will."

You laughed breathlessly.

"You are a gentleman after all, right?"

Minho smiled, his mouth an inch away from your skin.

"I can be. But I'm sure you've noticed that I can be...something else." He pulled away from your neck and looked you in the eye, placing a hand against your cheek. "Am I still what you want?"

"Yes," you breathed out, the certainty obvious in your voice. "I've been in love with you too, Minho. I just didn't know how to say it. I love all of you, and I want all of you."

He groaned, sounding like he was almost in pain. But then his grip on your cheek tightened slightly and he leaned in even more, impossibly close.

"Then show me."

The sensation between your legs was undeniable by this point. Minho, being his usual observant self, immediately noticed that you were rubbing your thighs together, trying to generate even the smallest bit of friction to relieve the feeling.

He scoffed, but there was a familiar, gentle shimmer in his eye.

"Or how about I take care of you a different way?"

All you could do was bite your lip and nod. Of course he had noticed. But you were so, so glad he did.

"Put your arms around my neck and jump," Minho commanded softly.

You immediately obliged, and his hands fell to your ass, which he used to hold onto you as you jumped. He supported your weight with ease, and you nearly started drooling at the way his muscles were now completely flexed.

Minho then carried you back to the couch, where he laid you down on your back. Carefully, so as not to crush you underneath him, he propped himself up on the arm of the couch with his left hand behind you. He settled himself on top of you, but not touching you, with either leg on the sides of your hips.

His right hand traced a line down from your cheek, to in between your breasts, all the way down to the top of your skirt, where it finally came to a halt.

You practically went cross-eyed watching his silver necklace dangle in front of you. But the feeling of Minho hooking his index finger underneath the top of your skirt snapped you out of it.

"Tell me," he said quietly, "Did you wear this for me?"

In the span of a few seconds, you had a heated internal battle over whether to tell him the truth or not. Ultimately, you decided he already knew and he just wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes...I did."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards as he looked down at where his finger sat, pulling against the thin fabric of the skirt.

"Silly girl. You don't have to get drunk and dress like a slut just to get my attention."

You held your breath as he slowly slipped the rest of his hand under the fabric.

"I have dreamed of doing this with you...just the way you normally are," Minho continued.

As he spoke, Minho's fingers dipped lower and lower, until the tip of his pointer finger came in contact with the next to nothing panties covering your sopping core. You immediately drew in a breath, so hard you thought you were going to choke on the air.

Minho chuckled, circling over your clit lazily through your panties.

"Is this where you want me?"

Overcome with the heat and desire filling your every limb, you nodded vigorously, reaching one hand behind Minho's neck to hold onto him softly.

"Okay," he whispered, barely audible. "But try to be quiet, hmm?"

Before you could argue, Minho slid his pointer finger under the edge of your panties, instantly parting your lips and making contact with your bare clit.

This light touch alone was enough to send a jolt through you, and Minho couldn't help but laugh slightly at your obvious pleasure.

He then tentatively pushed his pointer finger inside of you, waiting to see how you would react.

You were so wet, it slid in with ease. You shivered at the sensation, and dug your nails into the back of Minho's neck. He hissed at the sensual pain, beginning to move his finger inside of you slowly.

"Mmmm," you whined, bucking your hips up to try and push his finger further inside. "I need more, Minho. Please."

He swiftly leaned down and hushed you with a chaste kiss.

"This needy for me already? How about this, is this enough?"

Minho shoved his middle finger inside of you as well, more forcefully this time, and immediately scissored you open with an ever-increasing speed.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

If it weren't for how good you felt right now, you would be embarrassed at the way you were speaking. But he was unraveling you by the second, the two fingers inside of you pulling the strings holding you together.

The sounds of your wetness nearly echoed throughout your small living room. You knew you were humiliatingly close to your release, and Minho picked up on that as well.

Without saying anything else, he curled both fingers inside sharply, almost instantaneously finding the spot you needed him most. Stars swirled around in your vision, the feeling of his fingers and the cold metal of his necklace against your sizzling skin the only things keeping you grounded.

Then everything came crashing down in a searing, slick mess.

You threw your other arm around him as you clenched so hard on his fingers, you were worried you'd cut off his circulation. Your arousal dripped down the back of your ass, soaking your panties and Minho's wrist. Both of your thighs were locked up and quivering against Minho's forearm, essentially keeping him trapped there.

But eventually, the stars faded and you could see and feel properly again.

With a smirk, Minho pulled his hand away and wiped it on the back of his pants. As you watched him do so, you happened to notice just how badly he needed you, too. His arousal was painfully apparent through the tight pants he was wearing, and it made you swoon all over again.

"Let's go somewhere we have a little more room, shall we? And I'll take those ruined clothes off of you."

You weakly agreed, your throbbing sex already becoming hot again.

For the third time tonight, Minho leaned over to pick you up. This time though, he simply draped you over his shoulder, knowing that you wouldn't need to be carried for long.

He made his way into your bedroom, lightly pushing the door open with his foot. He then laid you on your bed and looked down at your beautifully disheveled state from where he was standing by your legs.

"So pretty like this," Minho whispered, bending down and kissing your forehead. "But then again, you're always pretty."

Even in your blissful condition, you couldn't help but blush at his words.

"But before we do this...I need you to tell me something. And be honest," Minho began, the atmosphere now turning more serious than playful. "Will you really be mine, (Y/N)? Mine only? Because once I have had you in this way, I won't want to share."

You watched him attentively. His eyebrows were knitted together in genuine concern, and his eyes searched your face for any hint of an answer you might give him. This was where you saw the shy side of him that you initially fell in love with, and you knew that despite how he may show another side of him with you intimately, that he was always being his true self, no matter what. That part of him that craved your validation and your love was what truly guided his actions.

"If this is your way of officially asking me out, Minho, then I accept." You giggled and reached for one of his hands. "I don't want anyone else. I just want you by my side, always, okay?"

Minho shyly giggled in return, squeezing your fingers slightly before letting them go.

"Okay. Then let's get these off you."

He gripped the edge of your skirt and pulled it down, the cool air hitting the dampness of your panties and making you cringe. That didn't last long, however, because Minho then did the same to your panties, practically peeling them off you due to how sticky they were.

You tried not to shy away from his gaze as he placed his hands on your knees and spread you apart to finally look at you fully.

His nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut at the perfectly overwhelming sight of you. He chanted a broken mantra in his mind to keep from diving into you right then and there. God, did he want to taste you. But that was for another time. His painful erection needed to be taken care of soon, and he wanted to be inside of you more than anything else right now.

"Is something wrong?" you asked quietly.

Minho snapped out of his thoughts and his hand instantly found yours again.

"No, no. Everything is perfect, you're perfect. I just... needed to compose myself," he said, his eyes darkening in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Oh," you giggled nervously.

Your anticipation only grew when he stepped away from you and yanked his pants and boxers down in one go, erection springing free and pulsing in the cool air.

"Oh," you repeated, this time more nervous than before.

Even from where you were laying on the bed, you could see how angry and red his tip was, a pearlescent bead of precum threatening to drip onto the floor. Minho gripped himself with one hand, pumping slowly to relieve some of the pent up tension he was holding onto.

"Change your mind?"

You shook your head, your "no" clear as day.

"Good. But tell me if you do. Can you lay like you normally would against your pillows?"

You followed his instructions, bringing the rest of your body onto the bed and laying your head against your pillows. Minho followed, crawling over top of you once more, and kneeling between your legs. You wrapped your legs around his hips to provide him better access, and he quickly positioned himself with one hand at his base and the other gripping the headboard of your bed.

"I'm not going to last long," he grunted. "But I need to feel you now."

"It's okay, Minho. I need you, too."

Without another word, Minho brought his tip to rest against your entrance. He tapped it lightly a few times, before sliding between your folds to spread your increasing wetness.

"Oh, fuck, (Y/N). I could lose it right now," he moaned, his head falling backwards.

He was absolutely beautiful. His thighs that you had been so fixated on earlier were now on full display, muscles taught underneath his perfect tan skin. His white tank top now clung to his chest even more thanks to the layer of sweat that sat against it. And God, the way his hair was sticking to his forehead...the way his mouth fell open slightly in a silent moan...his eyes screwed shut in concentration...it was all too much. You needed him just as badly.

With no further hesitation, he pushed into you, bottoming out instantly. His forehead came to rest against yours and you couldn't help but squeal at the immediate pleasure.

"Mmm, that's right," Minho sighed, regaining control of his hips. "I could listen to that sweet sound forever."

He dragged himself out of you slowly, before crashing back into you, his balls slapping distinctly against your ass. Over and over he want, the sounds of his slick skin against yours ricocheting off your bedroom walls. The only thing louder was the lewd series of sounds coming out of your mouth as your pussy clenched around him in a vice grip.

"Ahh," he moaned loudly, hips stuttering slightly. "Careful, pretty girl. If you keep doing that, I might accidentally make you a college drop out."

Your cheeks flushed as he started pounding into you again. He was obviously getting close to his release already and you were getting close to your second one of the night.

"Look at me," Minho said in a low voice. But he didn't give you a chance and instead gripped your chin roughly with one hand. "Come for me again, I won't last much longer."

His words, coupled with his gaze and his rough hand against you were enough to send you into orbit again. The second your walls squeezed around him, Minho withdrew with a curse under his breath. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as you throbbed around the sudden emptiness inside of you. But you were quickly brought back to reality as ropes of Minho's release landed against the inside of your thighs and on top of your pelvis.

Now the only thing you could hear was your heartbeat and your breaths mixed with Minho's. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, and it remained unbroken as Minho gently slid out of you and pulled his boxers and pants on. He walked over to your nightstand and grabbed some of the tissues you kept there. He then came back around to you and wiped you off as best as he could, which earned him a sincere smile from you.

"Thank you, Minho."

"Hmm, for what? I've done so many things tonight."

You punched him weakly as he sat down beside you, and he chuckled.

"Well, I did the best I could. But I think a bath is in order. And also probably new sheets. Aaaand panties, for that matter."

"You're not wrong about the bath, that sounds nice. Run one for me?"

Minho stood up excitedly, happy that he could help you feel good in so many ways tonight.

"Of course. Then, let's get some sleep."

You agreed, fighting a yawn as he walked into the bathroom.

Against your better judgement, you reached into the pocket of your skirt and pulled out your phone. Despite it being the middle of the night, there were numerous unopened messages from your friends.

Based on what you read with a quick glance, several of them were making bets on where Minho was right now. A few of them were concerned though, since they hadn't heard from him or you since the party.

You decided to cheekily help them out.

You took a quick selfie, making sure to accentuate how messy your hair was and how pink your cheeks were. Then you sent it to the group chat with the caption: "Turns out Minho liked my blush a little too much, guys. Don't wait up xoxo."

Your message was instantly read by the whole group, and replies started flooding in faster than you could read them.

"Thank God you guys didn't do that here, smh."

"I guess you guys are a thing now?"

"Jeongin, you owe me $5!!!"

You could hear Minho chuckle from the bathroom as he shut the water off. He then sent a short message of his own, but tagged Felix in it directly.

"You'll still need new clothes, Felix. I hold grudges."

~

[boopboopedoop]

hey please DONT jump off the roof diva, i just found your page and i wanted to request something ^^ can i request a yoongi x female reader, either a oneshot or even headcanons, and its just husband yoongi, like he is the one and best husband material here ok we all know it. also i miss him...im happy we finally saw his face after ages but still😭

also i wanted to tell you that imo its great that you put your rules in your blog cuz i have been seeing certain things and requests lately....and like yes everybody has the right to like what they want but i believe there's a limit for everything, so yeah nothing, thank u in advance!!♡♡

Husband Min Yoongi! Headcanons

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, slice of life, husband material ahh Yoongi.

Word count: 403

| Summary: All the ways he loves you.

CONY’S note: Hi! Thank you for the sweet request and don’t worry we’re safe from the roof (for now.) Yeah lol I’ve seen some crazy things on this app too so I thought it would be safe to share my boundaries. I hope most fic authors will do the same more often! Anyway I hope you like these headcannons for yoongs! <3

Masterlist

- Husband Yoongi! Who always makes sure you get the last bite of every meal.

-Husband Yoongi! Who despite working unforgiving hours, always texts you good night when he knows you're about to fall asleep.

-Husband Yoongi! Who makes your comfort meals and tries to get them just the way you like.

-Husband Yoongi! Who hums along while you rant about something you want—or are even slightly interested in—and still ends up getting it for you, even when you thought he wasn’t really listening.

-Husband Yoongi! Who is a calming presence in every room you're in together.

-Husband Yoongi! Who is quiet with his words but loud with his love in all the ways that matter, like sending a well-timed, thoughtful message reminding you to take a break when you're stressed.

-Husband Yoongi! Who is secure in your marriage and never gets jealous. You love him, and he loves you—and that’s all that matters.

-Husband Yoongi! Who never minds watching your favorite movie or show, no matter how many times you've seen it together before.

-Husband Yoongi! Who smiles shyly every time you call him handsome, even though you say it all the time. (Don’t ever stop, even if he tells you to. He secretly loves it.)

-Husband Yoongi! Who cried when he told his mom on the phone that he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else but you—and that it scared him sometimes.

-Husband Yoongi! Who softly kisses your hands every time you brush his messy hair away from his face during early mornings.

-Husband Yoongi! Who takes candid photos of you and sets them as his lock screen, no matter how many times you beg him to change it because you don’t like how you look in them.

-Husband Yoongi! Who stays silent during arguments, waiting patiently for you to calm down so you can talk it out together.

-Husband Yoongi! Who still struggles with vulnerability but tries so hard to show you how deeply he loves you. He gently brushes away your tears—whether they're from laughter or sadness.

-Husband Yoongi! Who fell in love with your smile first, before he fell in love with anything else.

-Husband Yoongi! Who can’t imagine a life without your soft eyes and loving words.

[lonelylonelyghost]

MURDERBOOOOOT ep.10

That was fucked up but also a little bit funny

I mean can you imagine if that was real?

At this moment I had to stop watching and pace around my room for a while

what do you mean.

WHAT DO YOU MEEEEEEAN!!!!

Well of course it doesn't you piece of shit

Of course, Madam President. Would you like to take a sit, Madam President? My face is - *gets dragged away and shot in the back of the head*

In my defence, judging by his face Gurathin probably had the same thought

yeah...

I only noticed it while making this post, but I LOVE the stark contrast of the tone between what was going on during the expedition and now that they're back in the Corporation grounds. Despite the hostile fauna and constant and immediate threats to their lives from every side, the "civilized" place is where the real horror lies.

This episode has almost no jokes, no quirky banter, no shenanigans.

Here it is serious. Here it's real and bleak and deadly.

Genuine tension. True fear.

Show must go oooooon 🎵

To be fair, the doomed ones always have the best parties

Divulging slightly, I need these clothes, like yesterday. Photos from every angle, the mock-ups, patterns, everything. I'll learn how to sew properly I swear!

I've been trying to find my style for a while and get something that I actually like wearing, but where I'm living the clothes are either very gendered, cost half an infant or the most boring unisex shit imaginable.

But here the clothes are flow-y, practical, visibly comfortable, not too flashy but also unique and look good. I couldn't find much info about it besides the names of the costume designers (maybe it's just too early?..), so if any of you find anything to share in this regard - please save me!!!

So, are you saying that even a complete memory wipe cannot fix your PTSD?

Damn.

No hope except for therapy I guess

The show doesn't excuse passive enablers of the system, and that's great. Yes, you are a cog in the machine, but you also have your own brain and your own heart and the ability to resist harming others. It's difficult and dangerous, but it's not impossible

Yeah, that tracks. Media has raised me too

The way Murderbot almost timidly tries to ping other SecUnits to understand what's going on

The way it does what it's told and looks completely lost and scared

Now if you excuse me for a sec, my eyes are leaking

two sentence autistic horror story

I think now Gurathin understands in full just how much similar he and Murderbot are.

And he extends the gentleness and care the same way he received it all those years ago

noticing only what's truly important

this one is setting its priorities straight

Identity crisis

who am I if not sword and shield?

HOW DARE YOU

THE PERIMETER THING WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNY AND LIGHTHEARTED

If I observe hard enough, if I'm able to hide parts of myself well enough, maybe no one will notice that I'm not like them

maybe no one will notice that I'm not "normal"

Murderbot, end message

******************************************************************

Well,

This was a fantastic ending to a fantastic season.

Just, thank you everyone who helped to bring this show to life. The love and respect that they had to the books and to this world is visible and tangible

Honestly, when I heard that there would be a live-action adaptation to these books a couple of years ago, my first thought was that by the time of the release I would not be alive to see it and that would be such a pity. Happy to say right now that these posts were not typed by an apparition

So

See you in season 2?...

Ghost, end message

:)

[evieismol]

watching (often insane) gt media so you don't have to pt 1

aka running list of random gt movies/shows ive stumbled on w/ mini reviews. Idk if I would say any of these are *good* persay but I've been having a great time watching them while crafting and thought I'd share.

help i shrunk the family - foreign film w English dub/sub available, magical fairy like dude named wiplala (which is also his species??) accidentally shrinks a family. based on a kids book i think, acting and writing is a bit dubious but it's charming enough. there's a couple of cool g/t interaction scenes. Just don't think about like, anything that happens too hard.

help i shrunk my teacher - no relation to help in shrunk the family. first in a trilogy of films. german film w english sub/dub on tubi. kid starts going to a new school, turns out the school founder is magic, teacher gets shrunk and goes on zany adventures. dubious writing and very obviously intended for kids but its cute. I would have loved this movie as a child lol

help i shrunk my parents- second film in the trilogy and sequel to help i shrunk my teacher, this time parents get shrunk. same quality as the first film, some cool gt moments.

help i shrunk my friends - final film in the trilogy and sequel to help i shrunk my teacher. about a teenager who has magic powers and who shrinks his friends semi accidentally. same quality as other two films, some rlly cute gt moments tho, especially between the two main characters who are bffs/like each other.

village of the giants - 1965 movie. Basically imagine the creators of Riverdale decided to make a movie about giants and thats what this film is. a kid genius makes this weird goo that turns you into giants, then a gang of teenagers steal it and decide to eat it. there's a really long extremely 60s dance scene with the giants in the middle of the film where they announce theyre taking over the town at the end bc ??? there's actually multiple musical scenes. I dont even fucking know. cw: there's a couple of suggestive scenes w both the giants and normal sized people

land of the giants - 1968 TV show about some people who crash land on an planet inhabitanted by giants and have to try to survive. not a ton of giant/tiny interaction specifically, more tiny trying to survive in big world a la honey I shrunk the kids. I'd honestly LOVE to see this concept redone w modern effects and stuff bc it was a cool premise and lowkey inspired the backstory w Easton and his friends in my story.

[bird4brainz]

currently working on an AU of sorts where nugget is literally a god

(I'm tweaking out so hard on this AU)

(I'll most likely never share it with the public because it sounds stupid as hell but ok)

more info about it if you're interested... ^^

PLEASE BE AWARE IT SUCKS.. ITS MY FIRST TIME MAKING AN AU 💔

okay so basically what I'm thinking is that Nugget is just this little chaos god but doesn't do absolutely anything with his abilities... then Kidd comes along and everything changes. of course something about Kidd interests nugget and he decides to take matters into his own hands, knowing that Kidd isn't a normal kid, and he's clearly got someone tugging on his strings (us, the player). so basically every time Kidd dies, nugget revives him, and when the day ends, nugget restarts it all again over and over again until Kidd has every item he needs and all the information he can use to save Billy. after seeing how Billy was saved simply because of Kidd, he secretly grants him the ability to know the location of every monstermon and how to obtain it. during the first secret ending, this is where Kidd finally realizes "oh shit nugget is a god of sorts" and is, of course, horrified and amazed (because y'know he's just become friends with a godly entity who's been secretly helping him and pushing him in the right direction this entire time). kidd, knowing that it's probably for the better (and because he's scared shitless) becomes a follower of sorts to nugget. also I'd like to imagine the secret endings are canon, nugget just brings everyone back to life and wipes their memory of it after Kidd waddles off back home in sheer terror.

I'm aware none of this makes sense in the slightest bit but PLEASE just hear me out on this idea 😓 I've never made an AU before and making this was a recent idea so not everything makes exact sense when I put it into words UGHGJGJRJS PLEASE I SWEAR IT MAKES SENSE IN MY HEAD DONT DRAG ME BACK TO THE WARD AAAHSHSHJHJHHKHLHHHGGAAAAAAA

[theravenzvolute]

do you do request? if so draw like the astronomers half way through their flawed forms or something. not like the chorus like the red noodles. the insectoid leg head. the bubble blower. the heap of maws and eyes

HELLO !! YES I DO REQUESTS 1!!!! i love this request so much but ive only had time to do two of the four so ill do a part two later like those annoying youtube shorts people

SORT OF SPOILERS FOR LOOK OUTSIDE ENDING !!!!

now i love both of them so much so ive actually made a good few of headcanons?

out of all the mutated astronomers i feel like these two are the most animalistic. beryl works solely on flight or fight instincts, struggling to have actual conversations with people as her body is reacting before her brain can rationalize. she has moments of peacefulness but is often treated as a wild animal due to being so easy to trigger.

she absolutely DESPISES sam and blames him for the failure of the ritual. if she seems him, shell immediately try to assail him.

also !! her claws are on the pads of her fingers and work kind of like teeth, all of her arms have them, theyre really just supposed to replace those mouth limbs of hers in her fully mutated form. she can see out of the eyes on her body and actually prefers using them, as her main mouth pushes her eyelids up and makes it harder for her to see. thats why shes drooling as its a little hard to keep everything in her mouth since its bigger than it should be, but her body never finished the mutation.

she can certainly speak, but it would be tedious and hard to make certain sounds, especially with her accent.

NOW!! my wife :(( my aster :((

aster is almost always out of it. he hasnt even fully realized that him and the other astronomers are mutated. imagine someone who is just. always awfully drunk. he can move, but hed really rather not to, and its hard for him to haul his body around especially with how close to the ground he is.(aster is forced to crawl due to the fact that his torso is against the ground, his spine only turns upwards around his head).

aside from his spine, he also just struggles with the motions of his legs, he has a bit too many to manage, alongside with the fact he has to use what he would normally know as arms as legs, which can be uncomfortable considering they dont bend in the same way.

if youve noticed the ALMOST, in my au he does have few moments of self awareness, i feel like if one of his bubbles like. pops in his face or something scares him, he realizes whats going on, and acts as he would normally, but its normally characterized as freaking out about his/the others appearance, not having a mature discussion.

aster doesnt even recognize sam, so he wouldnt blame him for this, he has no opinions on people aside from his friends. he loves his friends and is almost always being hauled around by one of them for his own safety.

I HOPE YOU LIKE THEM ^_^ i had a lot of fun talking about my au

[gl00mt0mb]

Peter Parker head-cannon that I believe whole heartedly without doubt

After the events of Spider-Man homecoming Peter starts to stray away from superhero’s like the avengers and more towards local vigilantes

It’s not purposefully they just understand how he operates and have mutual respect for him as a fellow vigilante. He finds it easier to work with them with the lack of power dynamics compared to the Avenger missions or orders from SHEILD.

He still sends his regular voice messages to Happy more out of habit then anything thinking no one actually listened to them

—Except for the fact that after the vulture incident his messages are no longer going to his point guy but rather Tony Stark himself.

He never really specifics what’s going on other then a name drop or two, mostly for story telling purposes.

This result in Tony sitting in his workshop at various points trying to decipher the foreboding messages he keeps getting at random hours of the night from this high-school superhero. Stark is convinced that these are kids at school Peter knows because he simply can’t imagine Spider-Man knowing other hero’s that aren’t avengers approved.

(Little snippets of the priorly mentioned voicemails that totally happened because I said they did)

• “Eddie has a giant sweet tooth, one time we were at this restaurant and they ran out of dessert and goes feral! Like they jumped in the fish tank and bit a lobsters head clean off! They might be diabetic or something but it’s rude to ask,”

• “Oh yeah and then Matt and me like made a run for it but it was kinda hard since everyone was shooting at us and Matt’s like blind right? Well not really, but everyone thinks he is so we have to keep it on the down low, especially since the police were walking towards us. So we steal this cat off the side of the road and it’s dark so I just make it a little red webbing vest and pretended its his service animal-“

• “I met Jesse a while back and she’s really cool, anyway we were stalking this one guy a friend of hers knew, and get this! He was totally cheating on his girl with the barista. —Also he ran an illegal gambling room— but the cheating part was insane!”

• “Like sure —Frank scares the shit out of me— but this dog he rescued from a fight club thing is sooooo adorable, I’d kill a man for her. I think Frank already has?”

• “Imagine my surprise when Marc ends up actually being Steven! Steven’s a really good guy it’s a shame he’s British…but he helped me study for my anthropology class so I’ll let it slide,”

• “I wanted to watch Carmen Santiago with her but, Felicia is such a kleptomaniac, I swear I can’t take her anywhere without her trying to pocket my life’s savings in stolen merchandise-“

• “I mean, I don’t have any siblings? but Luke has this weird soap opera style drama with his brother and they had a huge fight! He threw Luke off the side of the bridge because of this argument about who was the favorite as a kid? I don’t really know the whole story but regardless I don’t mind being an only child-“

• “So I call Johnny to ask which flavor he wants but he won’t answer the phone because the giant loser is probably setting himself on fire for attention again-“

• “Kate’s mom kinda sucks, she got arrested for like I don’t know embezzlement and attempted murder or whatever rich people do when they get taxed, But her almost dad lets me use his swords so it’s not all bad.”

• “No and then me and Danny were supposed to get on this flight together but we kinda started freaking out because we were both orphaned due to a plane accident so we just had to catch an uber instead which made us mega late.”

• “And the whole trip was super fun until Wade got us stopped at the security gate because he wouldn’t leave his illegal shit at home. That led to the guard lady realizing the passport you got me was fake, so now I’m sitting in the middle of an interrogation room, and I’m scared they’re gonna deport me. I’m not sure where because I was born in Queens but it’s a real concern-“

• “I meet the strangest guys in the sewers tonight? They were in a fight club and the amount of pizza they ate was obscene, it might’ve…been a gang actually since they had a lot do weapons but I’m willing to look past it since they obviously had some more pressing issues to deal with. Like whatever skin condition they have that made them turn green.”

• “Ughhh— I told Stephen that I needed to borrow one of his books but the guy won’t budge! His library is humongous and I can’t check out one little journal for my Greek mythology unit?”

[tgmsunmontue]

Evil plays in hidden ways... 1/? WIP

In the 1980s the US Navy needed to boost its numbers, in particular of the naval aviator cohort. They trialled a top-secret programme using the genetic material of naval aviators serving at the time.

Bradley, on his first deployment post flight-school is a little surprised to learn just how many of his new squadron were adopted.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I know many of you have been hanging out for this one. It’s likely going to be ~8 chapters. I’ve changed the timeline of pretty much everything – this is set with the Dagger Squad having their first deployment together. I have played hard and fast with the science and also DADT... basically ignoring all of it (which hurts, being a scientist, but ANYWAY). This fic deals with the US Navy fictionally using guys sperm to make babies - so it’s going to have a fairly anti-military stance, given the whole premise of non-consensual parenthood being thrust upon pretty much the entire 1986 crew. There will be several of them popping up.

PROLOGUE

                He has never heard Ice yell so loud. His anger is rattling the glass in the windowpanes and he’s frozen where he stands, his own hurt and anger at hearing Maverick admit to pulling his papers making him see red. However, his own anger seems redundant in the face of Ice’s incandescent fury. He’d feel bad for Maverick if he wasn’t so angry with him. However Tom’s anger is a sight to behold in its intense ferocity and Bradley shies away from it, steps backwards when his feet finally unstick from the ground.

                “Do not leave…” Ice snaps at him.

                “No sir,” Bradley responds without even thinking, head shaking in the negative, despite the urgent desire to flee. He has never called Ice sir before, but he’s also never had Ice use that tone with him and he guesses he understands a little now how and why Ice has progressed up the ranks, that voice does not leave any room for someone not obeying a direct order.

                “And you, you sit your ass down right this second Mitchell. You have some explaining to do…”

                “Ice… I can’t.”

                “You can and you will. You will not test me on this. Our duty now is to Bradley, not passed friends…”

                “I promised…”

                “And I promised to look after Bradley, and you… so sit the fuck down.”

                Mav slumps into a chair then, looking defeated and Bradley realizes there must be something more at play here. He can’t imagine what it is, but Mav looks close to tears and some of his anger seeps away or morphs into concern.

                “What…?”

                Ice is standing there, arms crossed and expression grim.

                “Away you go Pete. Tell him.”

                “But…”

                “No. That was your choice. This is a consequence and you are facing this one. I will not let Bradley think that you care more about his dead parents than you do about him. His own happiness. His life. His choices.”

                “I don’t!”

                “Prove it.”

                Bradley swallows, feeling sick. He doesn’t like them fighting. Doesn’t want them fighting over him. Wants to take back and fix whatever has caused this volatile rift between them. He hadn’t thought they were fighting over him, but it is definitely related to him, or rather Mav pulling his papers to the USNA.

                “Your mom didn’t want you to be a pilot…”

                “What?”

                “Your mom… she asked me to stop you from becoming a pilot.”

                “But… I…”

                “I know you want to be a pilot Bradley…”

                “But… just going to USNA doesn’t mean I’ll automatically become a pilot. I have to get accepted to flight school as well. After.”

                “I’m aware,” Ice says dryly, eyes sliding to Mav who is looking embarrassed.

                “I don’t even get to make a choice about that until the end of my second year…”

                “You’re the son of an aviator. You’ll be selected if you apply for it.”

                “Okay? Even if I don’t pass the requirements?”

                “Hmm. Interesting fact, if there’s been a parent who is a naval aviator and the child applies, they’ve never been turned down. Hmm. That is… interesting. Shouldn’t stop you from paying attention and trying your best though…”

                He feels shaky, like he’s been thrown from one extreme to another.

                “This is your choice Bradley. Yes. The papers have been pulled. However I can have them reinstated just as easily…”

                “You can?”

                “Of course I can.”

…            …            …

                So Ice pulls a few strings and his application is reinstated, as if it’s never been pulled. He is, of course, as Ice predicted, accepted. His relationship with Maverick feels a little tender, but Ice doesn’t let them fester over it. Sends them both on a camping trip into the desert and seems glad when they come back more at ease with one another. Bradley never takes being at USNA for granted, never complains first, although doesn’t hesitate to join in with the others when they’re grumbling. He makes friends with so many people, and he’d been worried about nepotism, but there are so many of the others who also have a parent who was an aviator, or grew up military that he doesn’t give it a second thought.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A few years later

                Bradley starts his first deployment and he’s already good friends with over half of the squadron members. Knows them either from USNA or flight school or both. As he looks around the group he’s going to be part of for the next three years he wonders what everyone’s stories are. He knows his own of course, and it’s been a bumpy ride but he’s exactly where he always dreamed and wanted to be. Finally. And he knows Natasha’s especially well, having gone through USNA and flight school with her. Along with a few others. Some he likes more than others.

                It makes their social circle pretty small, living in each other’s pockets and being aboard a carrier, no outside socialization happening. He settles into a routine, working out, flying, studying and then spending some downtime in the rec room with the others. They’re settling in with one another, watching each other carefully for slipups that might earn them their callsign. Everyone’s going by names for the time being, first or last depending on familiarity. As he settles into the beanbag beside Natasha he jerks his chin in greeting to the others, glad that they’re over their first shifts of practicing night-landings. He knows people think they’re fucking. They’d be wrong but he doesn’t stop. There’s simply something about Natasha that just makes him feel… at home. Always has.

                “Where are you from originally Bradshaw?”

                “That is a loaded question man, you asking where I was born, or where I grew up? Because I’m a Navy brat.”

                “You and nearly everyone here…” Rueben mutters, throwing a cornhole sack at him which he catches easily and throws back with a little more force.

                “I was born in Texas, raised in California, but have spent some time on most bases around the US…”

                “Even though your dad…”

                “My godfather was my other legal guardian, and my mom let me go and visit him all over when he was deployed.”

                “Wow. That’s…”

                He doesn’t mention that he was usually travelling with Ice; that Ice taking Bradley with him gave his mom a break, especially once she got sick.

                “It was my normal, what about you?”

                “Well, don’t know where I was born, but my adoptive parents are from Nebraska.”

                “You were adopted?”

                “Yep. Sure was.”

                “Huh. Me too.”

                “And me.”

                “Foster care most of my life.”

                Bradley frowns, because something seems off.

                “Don’t your birth certificates have the birthplace even if you’re adopted?”

                He gets several looks that tell him he’s clearly out of touch and he looks at Natasha, because he knows she’s adopted as well, and this feels like a weird coincidence that nearly everyone in the room is adopted. Then he’s hearing about how some of his squadron were left at naval bases and simply just turned up and…

                “Holy shit… this is like… weird right?”

                “Fuck off!”

                “Speak for yourself!”

                “It is a little weird that we’re nearly all adopted.”

                “I’m not,” Seresin says, toothpick flicking around the words. “I mean. My mom met my step-dad when I was like, I dunno, a kid. He was always there. But he’s not my dad.”

                “What the fuck… nearly all our squad is adopted?” he repeats, but the fact that they also somehow were all handed over to naval bases seems even weirder. Only three out of the twelve of them were raised by their parent or parents.

                “Doesn’t make you special because you’re not Bradshaw. You’re the odd one out here.”

                “Yeah. Sure. Because growing up an orphan was such a walk in the park.”

                “Oh boohoo Bradshaw, cry me a river. You’ve clearly suffered.”

                Bradley gives him the finger, because he wasn’t trying to make this about him.

                “You don’t think it’s a little… odd?”

                “What?”

                “It’s… well. Just seems like a disproportionate number of people who have been adopted, or found at naval bases and ended up… here. Naval aviators. It’s… none of you think it’s a little unusual?”

                None of them do and he shrugs internally, wonders whether Ice would find it weird and decides to ask him next time they talk.

PART TWO

[sunny-knight]

*blinks at you*

You make epic aus

Wanna talk about any of em? :3

OKAY SO

Thank you so much, first of all :3 and also THANK YOU SO MUCH- CAUSE I ACTUALLY HAVE COMPLETELY CHANGED MY UNDERTALE COPE AU AFTER CHAPTERS 3 AND 4, LIKE IT’S SO DIFFERENT AND- okay…

Im gonna separate my TADC and UT/DR AUs.

And because my TADC AUs are WAY shorter, they’ll go first

TADC

Ive said my peace on the Cope AU, not much else to add honestly…

But there is another one that I have, It’s called "temporarily demoted". The “plot” is pretty simple, Caine lost a bet with Bubble, and they have to swap places for 5 days.

That’s basically it- The main function it serves for me in my brain is exploring Caine and him discovering empathy through this experience, plus his relationship with Ragatha cause OMG THEY’RE SO SIMILAR

I also love imagining scenarios where Bubble ends up taking over and everyone has to work together to take him down (portal 2 reference/dialogue)

Thats basically all I have to say in terms of Digital Circus chicanery, time to get into the-

UNDERTALE DELTARUNE IM LOSING MY MIND AAAA

So basically I am completely retconning my original Cope AU because those are supposed to be completely pandering to me and me alone, and CHAPTER 3/4 GAVE ME NEW DESIRES FOR THESE CHARACTERS.

The original surrounded around the idea that Sans and Papyrus were ALWAYS really close, and is more or less a feel good story with a touch of angst tossed in for good measure. EVER SINCE THIS SHIT THOUGH-

Ive started really liking the idea that maybe Sans and Papyrus DIDN’T have that good of a relationship before, and after almost losing everything when they had to escape Deltarune for Undertale, Sans reevaluated a lot of things in his life.

…

So NOW my Cope AU is less fiction based than before, now having some actual merit behind it. Buuuutttt since im just here to tell the story, im not planning on explaining much of evidence- BUT IF YOU WANT IT ILL GLADLY MAKE A DEEP DIVE ON THAT STUFF!

I MIGHT EVEN DO THAT ANYWAY! WHO KNOWS!!!

…

Now FINALLY…the story…Once upon a time, grandpa semi died, yada yada, Sans took in Papyrus, it was a hard decision, all that remains the same. But this time, all that stress is getting to him, Sans is trying his best, but right now he’s honestly not being the greatest guardian for his brother. (JUST LIKE TORIEL :D).

(Also they’re a bit older, instead of Papyrus being like 10, he’s more around Kris’ age, 17-ish, while Sans is like late 20s, early 30s, cause IF HE WAS 18 LIKE IN THE ORIGINAL, THEN THAT JITTERBUG SCENE WOULD BE REALLY BAD 😭😭😭😭)

Papyrus is not doing very well because of yknow, his grandpa dying, but also the moving, and having a really hard time making friends/being understood. Sans alone is supporting his brother financially and emotionally, so, stressed. Also not doing too well. they’re just sort of drowning together right now.

Sans tries his best to get Papyrus to talk to people, inviting Kris over, but no matter what Papyrus is ADAMANT about not talking to anyone, which adds some frustration to Sans’ situation.

Skip to chapter 4/5, and Sans spent the night at Toriels house, drunk, when he wakes up and goes OH MY GOD and runs home, but the door is locked and Papyrus isnt answering the door. (They’ve only got one key- and its with Papyrus since he’s always home to let him inside. Sans was also hoping he’d take the opportunity and leave the house for a bit, but, yknow).

So anywho, Sans deduces that he’s pissed rn, which is- FAIR- so he just decides to attend the festival, then hopefully have a talk with him after, and apologize for not telling his brother where he was.

…Noteably when he tries to call Papyrus’ phone, its nothing but garbage noise

THAAAATS RIGHT :D While everyones out and about enjoying the festival, Dark Fountains are getting created in everyones homes assuming no one would NOT be at the festival!!! So THEN when everyone starts heading home, they discover and go OH NO!!!! WHAT IS THIS???

NOW TO TUNE IN ON SUSIE AND KRIS FOR A SEC! They’re like “for fuck sake”.

But before they even have time to panic, they take notice that Sans is talking frantically to Toriel, saying “MY BROTHER IS IN THERE 😭???” so ✨THE FUN GANG ✨ Goes on a little rescue mission like they did with Toriel :3

…

I hate to cut it there- but thats honestly all I have in terms of story. I HAVNT HAD ENOUGH TIME TO PONDER ON IT FOR 500 DAYS AND NIGHTS LIKE I DID THE LAST AU, JUST LET ME COOK

I have a lot of ideas. Too many ideas.

He’s so BirdBrain core.

i’ll check back in, in like a month

[thetrasha]

oughfff tasha that rosinante request was just so!!! made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside

but i come to you with another idea for a fic!! id love to see kid with reader that is so oblivious to his (questionable) advances- i thought this would be fun because i feel he would have such a hard time facing these feelings. now imagine him trying to do something about this while reader just thinks hes had a change of heart suddenly? theyre happily oblivious to the catastrophe that is him. the crew is losing their mind. kid is on the verge of throwing himself off a cliff.

i hope this isnt too specific for you, i tried to keep it vague yet give you a somewhat solid idea. as always take care of yourself and make sure to give yourself a break once in a while :') the weather is absolute hell and frankly you posting content so frequently amazes me but its also?? kind of concerning?? i mean if you arent getting burnout from all that then im happy for you but please dont push yourself too much,,,

Hellooooo, I finally got to this request ╰(*°▽°*)╯It took some time, but here we are~

I'm so glad you liked the Rosinante request, Alien anon let me cook with that one LOL It's a totally different vibe from this Kid request - especially because the reader is a very special flavour of "oblivious", but I'm proud of both works 🫡So yeah, I think this one is pretty good, too :D Hope you like it! It wasn't too specific at all, this is perfectly fine <33 Heads up, yep it's pretty long too sigh

PS. It's so sweet that you're worrying about me, but fret not! I write because I love doing this... and I'm at the height of my creative zen right now. Things will screech to a halt once I go back to uni so I'm as free as I can be currently (●'◡'●) I do take breaks! :D But I'll take your words to heart, I promise

The Devil's in the Details

feat. KID

You’d originally been recruited… because of your looks. Now, don’t get him wrong – he didn’t keep you around as eye candy, it’s just that… the Kid Pirates were a rather unconventional-looking bunch of misfits.

As much as everybody tried to deny it, appearance mattered… and they couldn’t get any reliable information out of anyone without threatening them. They were all social rejects in their own right – too brutish, to brash, too strange.

In a way, it had become their brand, and Kid even expressed that he liked to strike the fear of God in people who were too weak to speak to someone like him… but it had become a liability as soon as they entered the Grandline, far away from the regular Four Oceans where threats actually accomplished something. Grandline natives inhabiting all kinds of extremes, from prehistoric summer islands to high tech snowy tundras, were absolutely used to looting and pillaging if they didn’t raise another pirate’s flag, marking their territory – they simply weren’t impressed by some rookie nuisances, comparing their bounties – the very same that got them everything they wanted in the South Blue – to the Warlords or the Emperors instead… In these waters, people were used to real apex predators.

The Kid Pirates were turning entire villages into bloodbaths, not just because these fools disrespected their ambitions but also because nobody would even let them rent a room at an inn.

You looked plain compared to them – an ideal spy.

Well, not what you signed up for initially, but it has indeed become your de facto job among the crew. And since you were so sweet, people easily gave up information that could be useful. That’s indeed how the Victoria Punk avoided being captured by the Navy several times. People were just… eager to talk when the person they’re talking to exudes calm security and peace.

Nobody even suspected that you were a pirate. To be honest, most people assumed you were a pretty noble that has lost their way and somehow ended up in rundown inns and hostels looking for a place to sleep and recoup alongside your “friends”.

Of course, your recruitment went well… as well as it could considering the circumstances back then.

You were sent to military school as a young child, getting an education that far exceeded that of the Officers of the Victoria Punk, but you didn’t use it to actually enlist in the Navy after graduating – you’d almost joined the Revolutionary Army instead. And just before you could sail to their base all by yourself, having been prejudiced against for being low-born yourself during school and experiencing all kinds of bullying, you saw a saviour in those that wanted to overthrow the system.

But you just had to ram the Kid Pirates head-on, the collision rattling both of your ships to their very core.

You’d been interrogated for days even though most of the crew agreed to throw you overboard and leave your survival up to fate, but Kid wasn’t so sure about that course of action.

You intrigued him.

In fact, you reminded him of himself.

If life hadn’t been so rigged against him, he might have followed into your footsteps as well. Nobody would ever know – but that look in your eyes, that fire… it mirrored his own.

You were headstrong and knew what you wanted, and you wouldn’t rest until you got it. In your case, at that very moment, that was justice. Clearly, you wanted to punish everyone who’s ever wronged you and hunt them down like the arrogant swine they are, but Kid could offer you something better than that:

He offered retribution.

And you’d proven yourself… time and time again.

For someone who was easily able to manipulate and mark persons of interest, you were a dense klutz, though.

It was harmless in the beginning; you spent most of your time around the Officers, not because you were one of them, but… because Kid ordered you to stay by their side, preferably his. Killer shook his head every time the Captain said something along those lines, very much knowing that you didn’t need protection.

Besides, you were warming up to them and they could see your potential now… and they’ve seen it up-close, too. You were… different.

The more conventional you looked, the less conventional was your fighting style. You fought less like a pirate – much less a member of the Kid Pirates – and more like a marine. Now, it had its reasons, of course. Kid was aware of that…

But it was actually fascinating to watch you compensate your lacking strength with a perfect technique. You could wield many weapons effortlessly as long as you could lift them, which made you a versatile combatant.

...Alas, Kid often refused to let you storm into battle. You were supposed to be a scout, someone who’s… digging up other people’s secrets – not gaining a bounty of your own.

If only you weren’t… you, though.

“Look at you clowns! Pathetic. I could have helped but someone sent me flying into the sea because I happened to wear a cobalt necklace.”, you sneered at Heat, Killer and Kid who’d gotten badly injured after the ruins of a burning house – one that Heat set on fire – crashed down upon them.

You had barely been in their vicinity, watching from the mere sidelines as your sword clashed with someone else's from the village’s militia. Of course, you found yourself far away from that place just seconds later – so suddenly that even your previous opponent had to process this as well.

Now, you were sopping wet, but didn’t feel any different… because you had no Devil Fruit powers and could swim perfectly fine. Wire had been lightly injured compared to the rest, mainly because he simply side-stepped with his gigantic legs and left the other men to their demise.

“You dare speak to me like that, (Y/N)?!”, Kid argued back with a smirk on his face, using his own powers on you again by lifting you off the ground and letting your feet dangle in the air. Droplets fell onto the wooden deck like he was wringing you out, and you just looked at him like a feral cat.

“Shut up! If I didn’t know it any better, I would say you were trying to get yourself killed. You almost got grilled and decided to drop ME into open water, MAN!!! Don’t you think before you do anything?!”

Killer, Heat and Wire just sweatdropped at the frustrated growl Kid let out.

...And it only got worse from there.

“Made me tea, Captain? What’s going on? Have you and Killer switched bodies or something?”, you joked, taking the cup out of his hands. It was a herbal mixture, but smelled pretty sweet – just how you liked it.

“Killer brings you tea?”, Kid asks, gritting his teeth before plopping down next to you.

Originally, he… he didn’t know why he needed to do this, actually.

You were just cosily snuggling into your blankets during leisure in the common room and the Captain had been stuck in his workshop all day. For some reason, he thought this would help him wind down.

He was evidently wrong.

“He does. I mean, not every single day, but he says that he’s there to boil water anyway.”

“You like it when a man does these things for you?”, he asked with a huff, hogging one of your blankets now.

“Eh? I don’t really care about that, Captain. Killer’s my friend – nothing else.”

“That’s not what I as- You know what? Fucking forget it.”, Kid grumbled.

“Geez… sorry, you grump. Killer’s all yours, Kid.”, you said, rolling your eyes.

And you swore his menacing aura sent shivers down your spine.

And worse…

“You’re insufferable. I hate you!”, Kid shouted with a blush as soon as you insisted he’d undress under your impatient gaze.

You’ve noticed that Kid’s stump had been plaguing him, painful tingles making him stop dead in his tracks whenever he had to lift what was left of that arm and perform everyday tasks without his metal prosthetic.

And because you cared about the Captain, you offered to massage the muscle that had been cut short, now left deformed... None of the other men would ever dare to ask to help him, especially since they were all so emotionally repressed. They’d probably rather die than be so casually affectionate instead of proving that they’re hardened criminals who ate nails for breakfast or something.

“The audacity.”, you chuckled in reply, watching as he stripped his jacket off.

You’d never tell anyone that he was quite cute being so blushy like that.

You felt around his maimed arm and shoulder, applying pressure to different parts that only earned yourself cool hums.

“Don’t be shy. I don’t mind some pretty hands all over my – FUCK! Warn a guy next time, bastard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, squeezing that particular part on his stump again, which made him hiss this time. He tried to suppress it, but the pain became unbearable.

“Your entire shoulder is fucked up.”, you deadpanned.

“YOU DON’T SAY?!”, Kid growled, almost ready to look for his red jacket again and flee from your judgement… - he only wanted to look strong in front of you, “That’s your medical expertise?! Thank God I didn’t recruit you as a doctor, we would have all succumbed to scurv- Y-OUCH!”

You smiled wryly, slowly massaging the knot you’ve found, apologising profusely for hurting him.

Your touch became feather-light and… he didn’t hate the feeling. You were trying to gain the courage to squeeze that vicious knot again, probably remnants of his torn triceps that now dangled around there somewhere.

Although you were an amateur at best, he was… grateful. Your fingers might not have healed him, but they sure as Hell distracted him from the constant buzzing he felt there.

It might have lost its original meaning when he said it like that, but your hands were magical.

“You know, I could… return the favour… treat you just right…”, Kid tried to flirt, knowing that you were sharing a pretty intimate moment right now. He’s truly never been this close to you… and you were blindingly pretty if he was being honest.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d like to keep that arm, Captain.”, you winked, teasing back.

As always, you didn’t take him seriously at all.

Usually, he prided himself on that suave, deep timbre that vibrated in his chest… it worked like a charm, especially with people who were looking for danger.

Didn’t work on you though.

The next day, Killer wondered why Kid looked at you like you’d neutered him – his mean mug was… unsettling.

…Even worse…

“You’re drunk.”, you sighed, shaking your head at Kid who’d been downing shot after shot ever since your crew arrived at this bar.

It was strangely humid in here and the furniture looked… frail if not rotten. You refused to sit down and tried to convince everyone to get up and move to a different part of this island – one you’d seen with your own eyes, already banking on brokering a killer bargain for your overnight stay… breakfast included, of course.

You flushed, cheeks hotter than ever. If he looked close enough, he could probably see steam rising from your every pore.

“I can hold my liquor.”, Kid smirked, pawing at your own coat and trying to coax you into his lap, “You can sit here and even hang off of me. Makes me look good.”

You knew that Kid was… well, like this, but this was a new low even for him.

“That’s… no, Kid. I will not. You’re drunk.”

Heat left the table, knowing that he couldn’t continue watching this. He deliberately chose a seat that would have his back facing you guys. Killer wished, from the bottom of his heart, that he could leave, too, but that would only rile their captain up even further. It was a lose-lose situation, soon everybody would be caught in the crossfire.

“I want you all over me.”, Kid purred – which prompted Killer to leave no matter what his rationale demanded. This was… what the Hell was this, Captain?!

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re insufferable.”, he smirked seductively, but it didn’t come across that way at all.

“HUH?!”, you exclaimed, leaning forward as your eyes almost popped out of your skull…

You left the bar in a hurry, seemingly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

That was the last straw for Kid.

He thought he was obvious. There were plenty opportunities for you to show your desires… and at this point, he was embarrassing himself.

The next course of action would be to slowly cut you out of his life, even if it would break his heart. He’d never admit this to himself.

To save face, he smashed the table he was sitting at to pieces.

…Possibly worst of all, however,…

“You’re avoiding me.”, you muttered suddenly.

And Kid… had a heart attack.

He was sitting at his drawing board, brainstorming new ideas for a cool new invention that would help navigate the latter half of the Grandline… and he’d been so focused that he didn’t even hear that you entered his workshop. The very place that was taboo for everyone but him, but… fuck, he couldn’t even be mad at you.

“I haven’t.”, he snapped – knowing that he very much did indeed try to avoid you. It was… like torture.

He wanted you to be his, but you’d never accept it. You’ve made your disinterest clear and kept things strictly platonic between you. You probably were just as kind towards Wire… or – he shouldn’t finish that thought; he was so pettily jealous that he was about to shatter his jawbone from grinding his teeth against one another so hard.

Your eye twitched in frustration, a habit you picked up from him. If he was a better man, he would have visibly melted – this time, he just caved with a sigh.

“Okay. I have. What about it? Why do you care?! Leave me alone! Go and do something else, damn it. Scram.”

You smiled sadly – no, broken. It was nothing like the beautiful smile you put on when you were happy. This looked like it pained you. He never wanted to see it again.

“Killer sent me here…”, you confessed, breathing in –

And Kid almost roared in rage, balling his hand into a fist, silently debating whether he should just toss his best friend overboard.

– “So… because of him… I’m here to… confess that I like you! It’s alright if you want me to leave the crew now! I… can pack my thi-”

Yet before you could finish your sentence, Kid had already smashed your faces together.

His lips hotly chased yours – all tongue and all teeth.

It was messy, obnoxious and filled with passion that had just been bubbling under the surface. He did wonder how the Hell you missed his clues all the time but at the same time… you were you. Of course you wouldn’t notice a damn thing, casually oblivious to his advances.

His arm went to your throat, holding you in place – and subtly dominating you, just as payback for making him work for this moment. You were going to be the death of him.

He’s never loved anyone as fiercely as he loved you, probably never will.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me now.”, Kid spoke, breaking the kiss before moving onto your neck.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he just wanted to mark you – just in case anybody else would be as dense as you and think that you clearly aren’t his.

His hand slid down to your waist, squeezing the flesh before curling around you and holding you firmly in place.

“I want to be yours.”, he uttered, surprisingly softly.

Your hands found their way into his fiery red hair, gently stroking every strand as his lips founds yours again.

“Because you’ve always been mine.”, he added cockily, smirking when you breathed a chuckle into yet another kiss.

[yappinglit]

this is it. my jam. perfectly normal about it though. not foaming at the mouth really.

it is very surprising and off character for me that i haven't done a conclave x star trek thing but executive dysfunction is a bitch.

HOWEVER,,,,

lemme just make an AU of this AU and set this during/after ds9 because, as it's inevitable to a trekkie, i love a never-ending expanding universe. the more the merrier. prepare for self-indulgent, barely coherent yapping. no plot though, just vibes.

with vincent i see him having worked in bajor during the ocupation for many reasons but also because i love religious imagery especially on him. this man,,, could be a great emissary to the profets, aka space vicar of christ. maybe he was believed by some to be the emissary before sisko came along. or at least a human (with bajoran ancestry or not, haven't decided) who got recognized by bajoran religious and later governmental authorities as a relevant good guy (tm). a version of an informally recognized local saint?

he could also be a brilliant diplomat, that has flown under the radar of popularity amongst starfleet officers because he might or might not have gotten court martialed (or something similar) because he went against federation policy to further help the bajorans. BUT NOW that the occupation is over and the federation has gotten its head out of its ass a bit regarding the bajorans, he was reinstated and quickly rose to the rank of captain. this ship could be his first assignment as captain too, could be interesting. it could give him a bit of the benitez air of "outsiderness" in the vatican. he could have been chosen for this assignment especially due to his vast experience in mediating bajorans and cardassians, which, besides being hard af, could be relevant because this ship could be designated to operate in this area ?

i see him having extensive education and experience mainly with diplomacy and xenoanthropology (maybe cultural studies too), but also being a bit of a jack of all trades: engineering with nothing but a tricorder, a stone and the power of will? been there. medical aid with sticks, cloth, needles and threads? done that. guerrilla tactics? obviously. xenolinguistics? sure. bartender? yeah. accountant? that, too. journalist? guess.

in my mind now captain benitez has done everything and has the wildest, most randomly ridiculous stories of the ship, which he tells in the most nonchalant way possible. in the beggining people wonder if he's lying, but then they get to know him and then things get more and more natural, because of course he would do that. though they haven't even started to hear the serious, personal, tragic and deeply horribly traumatic stories of the occupation. those are more difficult to share. by then he not only has a crew, he has followers 🙏

and thomas, his first officer, is the unintentional leader of said cult, and looks at him adoringly like spock to kirk and chakotay to janeway, as per trek tradition.

but,,,,, maybe vincent has a history with the maquis? and that's related to the reason why he got demoted / court martialed / anything ?? who knows (this is not suspense, i really don't know and i'm not commited to many ideas lol)

thomas, as fist officer, is canonically a manager of the crew (e.g. riker and chakotay mainly), as the position is responsible for dealing with day to day business, crew performance evaluations, shift managing, and other stuff that could really drive him crazy, though he loves the ship.

i can also imagine thomas being a current OR former ship's couselor, and having to manage the mental health of the whole crew could really give him loads of self doubt and perfectionism and crisis and all that jazz that makes thomas thomas </3 (don't know how well the area fits him though, not sure)

in this case he could be a doctor, psychiatrist and psychologist? idk

he's just overwhelmed

and/or he could be a science nerd, loving niche space phenomena and stuff

in any case, the vision is that poor thomas is having a career crisis and doesn't know if managing as first officer (or as counselor) really is his vocation. he thinks of retiring but also doesn't like the idea of simply dropping everything to pick lint off the sofa in england. as any thomas lawrence of the multiverse he's a bit confused (as am i regarding his roles in the ship other than first officer). but then,,,,, captain vincent benitez arrives

commander aldo bellini can cook, period. i like him as science officer but i also see him as such a humanities guy, like philosophy? history? literature? (xeno)anthropology? yes to all of them. and maybe a diplomat too. i mean, if spock can do it all i can find a way for aldino.

very big on logic and vulcan philosophy, though progressive and deconstructivist. prolific academic. gets in academic fights mostly over his unorthodox-ness. (not so) secretly a theater kid. pretty much an overachiever, of course, brilliant and neurotic. being like an astronomer and a philosopher screams overachiever, right?

he would get VERY excited over the idea of the stable wormhole near bajor as a scientific and cultural phenomenon. i mean how often do we find a scientific wonder that's also the place where someone's gods live?? that's right on his sciences + humanities* areas.

*that's the name we give to those fields, so human-centric lol

(he and thomas met in the academy because of course they did! aldo had to have been very neurotic about his grades, right? lucky he had a counselor-in-training friend ?)

with agnes as chief medical officer no one would DARE refuse her medically mandated shore leave, not even overtressed wet puppy thomas lawrence. maybe her biggest challenge yet would be captain benitez.... i really see vincent pushing himself to the limit discretely and suffering in absolute silence, and the way he's so kind when being ordered to take care of himself can really throw someone for a loop. but doctor agnes is not a quitter.

she can be quite stern but she really cares about her patients and just knows your medical and personal info by heart. which is really sweet but also scary at times cause not even my mother knows that?????

i see her as a greatly accomplished academic in her field, always trying to improve medical technologies and practices. avant-garde if you will. maybe a neurologist? and a great surgeon.

i see her being into botany too, as a hobby, not for any particular reason

plus shanumi being a specialist in all kinds of therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy, zootherapy, pilates instructor, maybe martial arts instructor?? the sky space is the limit. shanumi went to common starfleet medical too, but i wanted her and agnes to have somewhat different (and complimentary) fields and vocations inside the medical area. the crew WILL be healthy on their watch, or else.

let me scratch the idea of cardassian gul goffredo tedesco (cause space fascism) cause nooooo i want them to be a crew <3 even though cardassians flirt by arguing and that would Very Much fit him

tedesco could be someone who, like o'brien, has fought in the war against cardassians and holds some resentment against them. and thus he has some things to unlearn, but he does know his tactics i guess ! he could have a difficulty to trust people, especially those of other species (but that would not be that radical and erm fascist cause i mean this is a bit of a space utopia, let us dream and make his problems more fixable ones lol). a bit hot headed. not too fond of change in procedures, especially in security and tactical areas. i can see him as being in both security and tactical too, like worf. being hesitant to trust, a bit trigger happy and sticking to procedures can be tactical/security officer traits lol.

he could be great as having a deep obsession with the roman empire (cause lots of weirdly traditional people do, and... italy), ancient civilizations and archeology (and their battle tactics of course). human civilizations of course (🙊). and he would inflict this knowledge on everyone around him !!! especially aldo cause they're both humanities nerds who cannot come to terms with the fact they share a passion for the same things (and each other maybe eventualyyyyyy lol) because they disagree so much. the crew make bets on their debates, the next theme, the next winner, their consequential possible visit to the infirmary, and then on how long the scolding doctor agnes certainly will give them will take. good times for all except both parties involved.

obsessed by the holodeck tho

our dear ray gives the universal translator a run for its money. polyglot, linguist, xenolinguist, computational linguist (or the 24th century equivalent), forensic linguist even. has studied other communication related fields like semiotics maybe. maybe he has some diplomat qualifications (i love diplomat characters okay?? and maybe if they're acting in a former conflict zone (read: bajoran oppression and genocide by the cardassians) it would make sense). deals with (and creates) softwares and general technologies related to communication. and random trinkets.

thus a spiritual successor of uhura and hoshi as linguist + communications officer.

also maybe part of starfleet intelligence cause we know this man can find the tea on everyone. he just knows 👀. tal shiar who?? obsidian order? i hardly know her. section 31 watch out.

as the position of communications officer is kinda blurry after TOS era, maybe ray could be usually positioned at ops if that's the case.

and how about giulio sabbadin as an escape pilot and he drives like it !! while looking very blasé doing it. idk, i just see it. he can obvioulsy pilot normally, but he's trained to go through hell and back if necessary, and he does it with style.

everyone who had to take a shuttlecraft with him piloting through an asteroid field or enemy ships has come out alive due to his expert maneuvers, but at what cost. he gave ray motion sickness and roller-coaster trauma. thomas had always been a bit reluctant with using transporter technology, but after some trips with giulio the trauma is now with shuttles ! yay ! (tfw you traumatize your therapist). do you know how much it takes for people to feel motion this heavily despite all the technology there is to avoid it? they do. but they're all alive, thank you very much.

besides that, i can see him having the mccoy-like sarcastic attitude. very adaptable, strategic and pragmatic, not only in piloting of course. has tactical knowledge partly due to being a pilot and sometimes clashes with tedesco, cause why not. he could also be the one human who has actually studied economy and knows how commerce works, it could fit his demeanor. it could be useful in negotiating in a former conflict zone. and thus he has been in multiple arguments with ferengis.

maybe son of a proeminent federation diplomat (or would that just make him tom paris???)

i don't have many ideas regarding tremblay and adeyemi yet though.

tremblay could be chief engineer and a specialist in holographic technology. don't know why, i just kinda see it.

and tremblay loves hockey like sisko loves baseball, but the sport is not common knowledge 😭

maybe it would be interesting if adeyemi was a terraformer because 1) it's cool af, and thus it would be cool to have someone as a terraformer and 2) in star trek it's usually a job for people who are very confident and open to taking the lead and (quite literally) making things their way. that's the connection i can make. he seem(ed) confident and a proeminent figure.

(some of them are dicks about it but he doesn't have to be !)

don't know how that would fit on your usual starship, but there you go. i want it.

maybe in this ship he's working with ecology and ecossystem restoration? especially in planets destroyed and deprived of their resources by cardassian exploration. idk i just think terraforming is cool and is a different field from the usual sciences and engineering we see.

Thinking about it, we actually can squeeze conclace into star trek a little bit (I'm not a hardcore trekkie so don't mind my mistakes):

After an accident, the USS Christo lost their previous captain. Their new captain, Vincent Benitez, is a relatively unknown officer who used to work for the Federation organization within the territory of the Klingon Empire.

This new appointment came as a surprise to everyone on board. During this period of turmoil, their first officer, Thomas Lawrence, must ensure smooth transition of power while keep track of their ongoing mission. At the same time, he is considering retiring from the fleet.

Aldo Bellini, Thomas' close friend since the Academy, is the chief scientist on "Christo". He's very intelligent, sometimes might be seen as cold-blooded due to his came-from-nowhere Vulcan heritage. Though he devoted himself to making Vulcan philosophy less apathetic and more approaching as possible, by advocating positive guidance of emotions rather than using logic to suppress them.

Their friend, the chief medical officer, Agnes, is an extremely talented and conscientious person. She is caring, sensible and can be tough sometimes. Together they formed the indispensable pillars of the senior crew members of the ship and works hard to help Vincent to adjust to his new ship. Shanumi is her nurse.

Joseph Tremblay is the chief engineer. Rather than spending all his time with the ship, he focuses more on fostering solidarity within the engineering department. He has his subordinates carry out the engineering work but all repairs and changes to the ship needs his approval.

Goffredo Tedesco is the chief tactical officer on the ship. He is not very kind, not as open-minded as the crew in the science department, nor does he emphasize regulations as much as the chief of security Adeyemi does. Practicality (and stability) is his top priority, and for him, practicality means the accurate application of the rules and regulations.

Speaking of practicality and stability, Giulio Sabbadin, the chief conn officer, has words as direct as the route he specified. Years of dealing with asteroids and dramas on bridge has him developed a sarcastic personality. However, You'd better underestimate his professionality. He is always "to the point", no matter what that means.

Raymond O'Malley is the communications officer on the ship. He is smart, gentle in nature and proficient in various languages and technologies. He is the youngest senior officer and is Thomas's inferior and has worked with Thomas since he got into the fleet. When Vincent arrived,the has to help facilitating communication between him and all the crew members, as well as conduct Vincent's background checks for Thomas. Something unusual caught his attention...

[gaysamurai]

in order for hizumi to be a spooky ghostly kitaro-esque song like imai originally envisioned acchan would've had to sing it in a completely different way huh

[captainpriceslilwife]

little thing with John Price that goes from angst to smut to angst again and then fluff and back to smut....pretty much checked all the boxes here i think. okay yay <3 also ill be honest...idk if i like how this turned out, but.....here it is *serves up half-eaten charcuterie board made from lunchables*

Basically Price is using your daddy kink as a trojan horse to rewrite your neural pathways <3 but like...with love Shoutout @coco-killed-the-angels for implanting these worms (insecure girl x price) into my brain <333 CW: deep insecurities (bc i'm the one writing it, so...it's a given), daddy kink, crying, praise kink (?) - does it count if he's just praising you in a sexual setting and its not necessarily a kink idk, if you're allergic to true, deep love and you just want smut this is not the work for you, not DDLG but like...the cousin of it. Or sibling. DDLG adjacent.

Your day had started off rough.

Well, the whole week, really. With deadlines and headaches looming over your head, it's no wonder that you ended up in such a state this morning.

You were just barely fighting the childish urge to just whack the brush over your head, so you tried to move on to putting your makeup. Which only ended in you crying in frustration when it started to cake up, and then you began crying even harder when your tears started making the rest of it slide off of your face.

"So fucking stupid." You had whispered under your breath as your shaky hands wiped at your face in a sorry attempt to fix everything - only to make it worse.

That's how John found you in the bathroom, furiously scrubbing at your face with a towel to wipe everything off as you sobbed quietly to yourself.

"Woah, woah, woah...sweetheart." His hands are quick to wrap around yours to halt your movements, and you try to bow your head to avoid his gaze, but he tilts his head right alongside you. "What's all this, huh? What's wrong, sweet girl?"

And he tries his hardest to comfort you, he really does, but you're just so lost in your anguish that you blow up in his face the moment he suggests you be gentle with yourself.

"No! I have to wear makeup today because my face is breaking out and I look ugly, b-but I keep ruining it because I'm crying! God, I can't do anything without ruining it!"

Maybe you were just hormonal or about to get your period, but it didn't matter. Your insecurities sound the same no matter what chemical is bouncing around in your brain to cause it.

Which is how you ended up here - on your hands and knees on the bed, facing the mirror on the dresser with John's cock nestled deep inside of you.

He had already been working you up for hours, teasing and licking and fingering you until you could barely hold yourself up - which explains why he's got one hand curled at the base of your skull to hold your head up by your hair to force you to watch as he fucks you.

But he's not even fucking you. He's just...sitting inside of you. Not moving. Making you whine and whimper as he stares at you through the smudged reflection of the mirror. You plead with him quietly, fresh tears blooming to wash away the dried tracks from your earlier malaise, but he just shakes his head and pulls your hair back a bit more.

"I already told you what to do, sweetheart. Go on." But you just blink at him dumbly with those teary eyes, too far gone to remember how you got here, let alone what he just said five seconds ago. But that's alright - if war taught him anything, it was how to be patient. Especially with a soft thing like you.

"Daddy's not moving until you say something you like about yourself."

Oh, right. That.

You had kind of been hoping he would just fuck your brains out so you could ignore your little meltdown earlier and forget it ever happened - but clearly John had different plans.

"I don't want to."

Brat.

Even when you were trembling beneath him and begging him to fuck you, you still had the nerve to talk back to him. But John knows you well enough to know that you aren't acting out just for the fun of it. So, he isn't going to punish you now. You're upset, and insecure, and you just want him to take it all away so you don't have to think about it.

Which is exactly what he's doing - even if you can't see it from where you are mentally. He's just playing the long game.

"One thing, baby." He murmurs in your ear, locking eyes with you in the mirror as he curls himself over your back to press his hairy chest into you, making you mewl softly. "Just say one little thing you like about yourself, and Daddy will fuck you, just like you want. I promise."

And you poor thing - you're just so desperate. You're cunt is leaking around his cock and no matter how much you try to rock your hips back to get some kind of friction, he's holding you too tight to make any real progress.

So you give up. Or give in. Either way, you decide to just let go and think of something - if only just to get him to pound you into the mattress the way you wanted.

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror - all puffy eyes, splotchy cheeks, and tangled hair - all you could see is what you didn't like.

Every bump, every scar, every part that's too much, and every part that's not enough. Suddenly every mean voice in your head has a stage - telling you about all the times you failed and how you aren't worthy of anything good in this world. Ugly, stupid, worthless, annoying-

There's nothing you can think of, even to just throw out meaninglessly to get him to hop off your case. Nothing.

And all you can do is choke out a pathetic sob - lower lip trembling violently as you squeeze your eyes shut to block out the mean voices circling around in your head. "Daddy, I can't...I c-can't think of anything."

He had expected a bit of resistance from you, but the way your face crumpled so sadly at the prospect of complimenting yourself made his heart ache in his chest. Clearly your insecurities were running deeper than surface-level, and he'd have his fair share of work cut out for him if he wanted to make you feel better.

"Shh, hey, hey, hey. It's okay." He coos softly, removing his hand from your hair to curl it around you to rest it against your sternum. He sits back against the bed and takes you right along with him, planting you on his lap with your back pressed against his chest - with his cock still inside of you. You're grateful for it, since you know you'd just spiral even more if he took it out and left you feeling empty and cold while you were already on the verge of a complete breakdown. "Daddy can help. I'll help you out, sweetheart."

"We can think of things together, my love. It's okay." He murmurs quietly as he wraps his arms around you, rocking you back and forth slightly as he gently hushes your tears. His thumb comes up to wipe away the fresh tears that slip down your cheeks, and he can feel his heart cracking in two at every little heartbroken whimper and sob that manages to escape your lips.

"What about your pretty eyes, hm? The ones that help you read all of those books, even when it's a little dark? The same eyes Daddy loves to wake up to every morning?"

You blink owlishly through your tears, your hiccups coming to a halt for just a second as you begin to process his words. He's not talking about the color of your eyes or what shape they are, but what they can do. You've been so caught up on how every part of you looked...not what they were actually meant for.

Your eyes aren't supposed to be the prettiest color or the 'perfect' shape. They're job is to help you see. And you can read, and admire the sunset, and cry, and watch TV - and none of it has to do with how your eyes look. They're the same eyes that lock onto John's from across the room and tell him 'it's too much. can we go home?' without ever having to say a word. And he always knows how you're feeling, just from taking one look at your eyes.

"And what about your hair? Don't you like braiding it and putting it up in all those pretty hairstyles? Don't you like how Daddy can play with it when you get all sleepy?" You turn your head around to look at him through your tears, and you take in a shaky breath as you nod your head silently in agreement. "Yeah...I know I like it, sweet girl."

You let out a restrained whimper as his words settle over you, your heart cracking in a way that it never has before - like its rearranging itself to fit the beautiful image of his perception of you. You can feel his hand gently squeeze your arm to silently urge you to continue on your own, and it takes you a minute to think of something before you let out a trembling whisper.

"M-My nose..." You sound uncertain, blinking up at him for validation only to be met with a loving smile and an encouraging nod. "I like my nose."

Your nose was never meant to look like everyone else's. It's just there to help you breathe. To bring oxygen to your blood to keep you alive and healthy. And it helps you smell everything - the bread at the farmers market, John's cologne bottle whenever you missed him too much in his missions, even the gross candles at the store that you force John to smell too just so you can both suffer together. It even crinkles up whenever John presses a kiss to it when you aren't expecting it, which always makes him laugh and makes him press just one more to it to get you to giggle and swat him away.

"Yes...good girl." He praises softly as he presses a line of kisses along your shoulder, reverent in both his touch and stare as he tilts your chin back towards the mirror. "Keep looking at yourself, darling."

"And Daddy loves your beautiful smile...you know, that's the first thing I miss when I go away. I keep a little picture of you in my vest just so I can see it even when I'm on my missions. I love seeing my gorgeous girl look so happy." His words coax another watery sob from you, which he quickly soothes by running his hands gently up and down your arms. Eventually he trails them down and circles his hands around yours, using his thumbs to massage gentle circles into your palms as you cast your gaze down to watch. "And your hands...didn't you bake me those cookies last week with these hands?"

"Yes, Daddy." You nod once again, and he brings both of your hands up to wipe at the tears that are dripping off of your cheeks and down to your torso.

Your body let you express your love for him in all the ways you wanted - hugging, kissing, cuddling, crying, laughing, talking, listening, touching - you could go on forever now that you're really thinking about it.

Your body was a vessel for love - a home that could fit all the adoration and affection that John could possibly give you and you could give him - and instead you were using it to house all of the shame everyone else had burdened you with over the years. But John had all the patience in the world, and if he had to pick that shame out piece-by-piece in order to burrow his love inside of you, then that's what he'd do. Happily.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty...such a pretty little girl you are." He punctuates every one of his words with a kiss to your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, your hair...all until he reaches your ear when he finally whispers, "I'm so lucky to have you, baby."

And you poor thing - now your blubbering in his lap as your brain tries to comprehend the sheer amount of love he's pouring into you, and he just continues to hold you patiently as you work through it. It's only when you finally calm down a bit that he speaks up.

"I think you're so beautiful, my love. Inside and out. But if you look in the mirror and you don't like what you're seeing, for whatever silly reason, I want you to remember that your worth comes from a lot more than how you look. Do you understand, baby?" He waits until you nod your head before he plants a kiss right to the crown of your hair. You can feel his hand settle on your thigh, thumbing the sensitive inner skin as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.

"Do you want to keep going?" And then you see it - settled underneath his love and admiration for you is a spark of concern. He doesn't want to push you too hard, especially in a delicate setting like this. His cock is still hard and nestled deep inside of you, but you know if you said the word right now he'd end this all in a heartbeat to make sure you were comfortable and taken care of.

But you don't want him to stop. It feels different this time around - like it's not just sex. It's something more ritualistic than that. So you nod your head once more, making sure to keep your eyes on him in the mirror so he can see how earnest you are.

And slowly, carefully, he readjusts you back into the position you were in before - on your hands and knees facing the mirror. And you can see him watching you closely for any sign of discomfort or regret, but all he's met with is trust in those teary eyes of yours.

"Keep telling me what you like, sweetheart."

And so you do. Clumsy compliments stumbling out of your mouth as he finally starts to rock his hips, granting you the relief you've been craving from him for what feels like forever now. And the more you praise yourself, the more intense his thrusts get - but he never turns rough. Not even for a second. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he whispers his own devotions into your ears, pushing himself as deep as he can as if he's trying to plant the words directly inside of you.

You're so overwhelmed by the love and the pleasure he's giving you that you barely even realize how fast your orgasm is sneaking up on you, but he notices. He can feel you clenching around him as your thighs begin to shake, and he doesn't waste a second in gently guiding your gaze to look at yourself in the mirror once more.

"Are you a pretty girl, baby?" He grunts softly, barely staving off his own release long enough to drive his message home. You begin to nod your head frantically, too caught up in your impending climax to form any coherent sentences as you begin to flutter around him - but he's not having any of it.

"Yeah? Go on, then. Daddy wants to hear you say it."

"I-I'm a..." Your stuttered words are cut off by a deep moan, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly as you clamp down around him. "I'm a p-pretty girl!"

And then you're sent into the most mind-shattering orgasm you've ever had in your life. You can feel yourself gush around him and you hear his restrained curses as you collapse into the bed, but even your own voice sounds muffled as you call out his name with a quivering cry. He fucks you right through it, leaving you trembling and crying from the intensity as he finally spills inside of you with a few tears of his own.

He just barely catches himself before he collapses on top of you, and it takes him a minute to catch his breath before he readjusts to, very carefully, pull himself out of your squelching cunt. He coos gently as you whine at the loss of contact, and he scoops you up like you're a porcelain doll that'll shatter if he's not careful.

You're still so fuzzy from the intensity of it all, but he places you in his lap to let you bury your face in his neck, and his arms quickly wrap around you the second that your trembling form curls up to him like a kitten in a storm.

"There she is." He whispers softly as he kisses your forehead, one hand trailing up and down your back as the other one circles tightly around your shoulders to ground you with his presence. "There you go, sweet girl. Take a deep breath, my love."

He can feel the little puffs of air hitting his neck as he continues to hold you, and it brings him back down to earth as well as he works you through your comedown. Soft whispers of praise graze your ear as he moves to clean you up, keeping his movements soft and careful when he sees your eyes begin to flutter shut.

And you look up at him with so much love and trust when he finally pulls you down to lay back against the pillows, he can't stop himself from taking a moment to brush at the soft skin of your cheek before he presses his lips against yours. It's not hungry or lustful - just pure love being poured into you as he pulls the covers up to cover your bare form.

He pulls back just enough to murmur quietly against your lips, eyes looking down at you with so much reverance it makes your head spin.

"I love you so much, baby."

And you can't help the little wobble in your lips or the glassiness in your eyes as you rest your head against the pillow, pulling him closer with your shaky hands as you plant a little kiss on his lips.

"I love you, too, Daddy."