#like i do do stuff when i can with a handful of friends but
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dilf-docs · 2 days ago
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So Is it Your Place Or Mine?
bfd!joel miller x younger!reader
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summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)
word count: 3,701 words
side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)
part: prev | masterlist | next
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"What do you mean you're not coming?"
It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.
Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.
"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"
Bullshit.
Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.
"Need help?"
His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.
"I'm at my dorm, sorry"
Double bullshit.
Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.
"I can drop by later then" she suggests.
His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.
"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.
"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"
He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?
"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"
I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.
"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.
Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?
"Should I worry?"
Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.
"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.
"Is it okay if I-"
"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.
"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"
He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.
"What I want is you"
The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.
The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.
It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.
The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.
"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.
When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.
"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"
You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.
"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.
"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.
"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.
"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"
"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.
He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.
"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.
Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.
He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.
"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"
You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.
"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?
He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.
"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"
You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.
He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"
To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.
He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.
"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"
Mine.
The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?
No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?
He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.
"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.
"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"
"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"
Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.
"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"
"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.
"Then take it, hungry one"
His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.
"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.
"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"
His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"
You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.
"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"
Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"
"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"
Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.
But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.
"Joel..." you breath out his name.
"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.
"K-keep going"
Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.
Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.
"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"
You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.
"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"
His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.
If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.
Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.
You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.
"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"
You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.
"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"
He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.
"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.
Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.
"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"
Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.
"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.
"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"
You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.
You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.
But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.
You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.
"I want to ride your belt buckle"
There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.
"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"
"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"
"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"
"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.
He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.
"Get'ere you filthy slut"
You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.
"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"
You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.
"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"
His heart takes a dangerous leap.
"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"
You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.
"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.
"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"
"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"
"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"
You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.
"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"
"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"
"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"
You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.
"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.
Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.
"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.
You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.
For a moment, it feels like it could be.
"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"
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fueioekjfisks · 1 day ago
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Vaguely inspired by that one post where Danny gets summoned by the JL and keeps throwing his shoes and stuff at them bc HE might not be able to leave the summoning circle but his clothes sure can!
I think the twist for that was that the circle doesnt effect him at all because hes a halfa and he was just goofing with the JL.
But imagine if the summoning and containment WORKED.
Like, he gets summoned and its startling, but once he realizes hes been summoned hes mostly annoyed.
Its a school night! He has work to do! Sure he wasnt DOING it, but it was still a possibility!
And hes trying to banter with the JL. Which for him just means being vaguely-obnoxious-but-somewhat-charming.
But then he tries to leave.
Maybe hes worried about his friends reaction to seeing him disappear.
Maybe the JL are saying some anti ghost/demon/whatever they think he is nonsense.
Maybe he changed his mind about doing that homework.
But either way, it doesnt work.
He drags his hand along the edge of the spell. It doesnt give, and he realizes hes not sure what this spell is supposed to do.
Its all along the floor beneth him, he cant fly through the floor.
He tries to get away from the walls and floor, worried whatever spell makes up the container can be triggered to hurt him or brainwash him or SOMETHING.
Its not his best guest, but he has never been summoned before, at least not with this type of barrier, and he doesnt know what to expect.
He barely gets a few feet off the ground when he hits the spells invisible roof.
And he is trapped.
And now this fourteen year old child is caged in a room with clearly dangerous adult strangers.
After hes been more or less kidnapped.
He’s suddenly regretting insulting them.
And its not his first time beimg kidnapped. Or his first time being in danger in general (obviously).
but its usually some ghost! Or Vlad “Loser, I hardly know her!” Masters!
Both of whom explain literally everything they plan in long ass evil monologues! It usually takes danny five minutes tops to learn their entire life story Dr Doofenshmirtz style!
He knows most of them personally! They hang out sometimes! Heck! even the local ghost hunters are either literally related to him or someone he’s dated!
He knows their powersets, their strengths, their weaknesses.
Most importantly, he knows their goals
But now hes trapped. In a room of clearly superpowerd strangers. With magical abilities strong enough to trap him for real.
And has no idea what they want
And Danny just freezes up
This could be super angsty if the JL were told that he was evil and think his panic + young features are only done to manipulate them.
You can also add angst with a language barrier/translation issue
I imagine the JL would be trying to get information about ghosts/ are trying to get someone to fight a villain they can’t defeat
Its going to scare the shit out of Danny either way- like imagine fourteen year old you gets kidnapped by strangers and they start asking you about your weaknesses or say they will only let you out if you agree to fight this monster.
And if Danny doesnt know this villain or how tf hes going to fight them he might feel like hes being sent off to get his ass kicked.
I can just imagine Danny being told he has to fight this supervillain and being like “…if i like..die…trying to fight this guy…what are you going to do with my body? Like will you send me home? Cause my family will freak if my corpse is teleported into the living room”
JL would not be happy about any of his responses.
Im begging someone to write this please have a nice day
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puck-luck · 14 hours ago
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I would like to make a request 🗣️🗣️ luke and a meet cute at a club or party and luke takes her back to his place 🕶️
thank you for your consideration
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warnings: use of Y/N, consumption of alcohol, dancing without leaving room for jesus, public sex, rough!luke, oral sex m!receiving (facefucking), praise, dirty talk, consumption of cum, hair pulling, probably missed some stuff but. oh well.
pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader
wc: 3,717
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“Y/N, he’s been looking over here all night. If you don’t go up to him, I will,” your friend threatens. 
You know who she’s talking about– the tall brunet with the curls near the dartboard in the quiet corner of the bar. He’s been with his group of friends the whole night, nursing beer bottle after beer bottle, and you keep making eye contact with him. You’ve actually turned from him so that you can focus on your friends, determined to not make the first move on this guy.
However, the jig is up. Your friends are tired of waiting. They want to see something happen.
“Look, he’s going to the bar now,” another friend says. “Go get a new drink and talk to him!”
They urge you to finish your current drink quickly and shoo you along, physically pushing you from the group towards the bar.
“Alright, alright, fine,” you concede, leaving your empty glass on the table and walking towards the bar. You make your way to the bar, sidling up next to the man. He seems taller when you stand next to him, so you throw a look over your shoulder towards your friends, mouth gaping and eyebrows curved to convey how impressed you are. You tap your fingers on the bar while you wait for the bartender, bouncing on your tiptoes slightly. 
The bartender goes to the man first, who asks for a Bud bottle. It’s easy enough, so the bartender points to you. 
“A vodka soda with a lime, please!” You lean forward over the bar and raise your voice so the bartender can hear you over the chatter in the bar. Another easy order. You never really know what to order at bars, despite being over the legal drinking age for a little while now. 
You and the man next to you wait in silence as the bartender makes your drinks– or grabs the beer bottle, in the case of your neighbor. He promptly hands over his card, which the bartender sticks into the side of his hat so that he can use both of his hands to make your drink. 
Your eyes go wide– your purse is at the table with your friends. You could just use ApplePay, but you really don’t want to hand your entire phone to the bartender to pay. “Oh, shit,” you mumble to yourself, looking over at the table where your friends sit. You can see your purse from here, like there’s a spotlight on it.
The bartender places a new glass in front of you and waits.
“I– my wallet is in my purse, I need to go grab it,” you say, pointing over towards the table. “I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back–”
“You can put it on mine,” the man next to you interrupts, talking directly to the bartender. “I’ll pay.”
The bartender nods and types around on the computer for a minute, while you turn to the guy next to you– your savior. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but you really do appreciate the small act of kindness.
“Thank you so much,” you tell the man, looking up at him and smiling softly. “I can Venmo you, if you want?”
He chuckles. “Nah, that’s okay,” he says. He sticks a hand out for you to shake, which is comical in a setting like this. You take his hand anyway, feeling his fingers curl around your palm. “I’m Luke.”
“Y/N. You’re sure I can’t pay you back?” you ask, shaking his hand.
Luke turns back to the bar, taking his card from the bartender and signing the receipt. You take your drink, waiting for him to say something else. He looks at you when he’s done and shakes his head. “I’m sure.”
Ugh– you can feel your chance slipping away. You’ve never been the bravest when it comes to making a move, but you know your friends won’t take pleasure in this story if you return now. They’ll just send you back over to Luke. “How about a dance?”
Luke’s eyebrows quirk. “A dance?”
“To pay you back. We dance for a song, we go our separate ways, and all is fair,” you say. It’s a silly proposal, but you’re hoping it works. Even if it doesn’t, you can tell your friends that you asked him to dance and he declined. You reach for your drink and sip from the straw, pinching the plastic to keep it in place. You look up at Luke through your eyelashes, blinking innocently.
Luke seems to consider the invitation, taking a swig from his beer bottle and sliding his card back into his wallet, before sliding his wallet back into his pocket. He licks his bottom lip and his eyes flicker over the top half of your figure. “Sure,” Luke decides after a minute. “Let’s dance.”
You smile. “Okay,” you say sweetly. “Let me go put my drink on my table. Wait right here.” You touch his arm lightly, lingering for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”
You head back to your table, depositing your drink on the table and telling your friends that you’ll be dancing with Luke if they need you. They cheer and gas you up, making you swear that you’ll tell them everything. They promise to watch your stuff and, should you want to go home with Luke, they’ll call an Uber for you. 
Your friends don’t do that kind of stuff normally, so you’re starting to wonder… do they think you’ve been in a dry spell? Or are they just really excited about the prospect of you hooking up with Luke?
Luke’s face transforms when he smirks, watching you make your way back over to him. He laughs when you pop your hips a bit with each step, introducing the dance before you even make your way to the middle of the bar. Once you’re in range, Luke slides his big hand over your hip possessively and a thrill passes through you. It’s the simplest of touches. 
You lead him to the dance floor, twining your fingers between the lengthy digits of his free hand. You twirl under his arm before plastering your back to his front and, well, getting down to business. 
The music is upbeat, but you can’t place your finger on the genre. You like this bar because dancing isn’t a huge part of the vibe. There are still a number of couples out on the dance floor, plus a few groups of friends. It’s not crowded, but there’s no way that your friends are able to watch and analyze each move that you make. 
It might be disco, actually. Some sort of weird EDM-disco-reggae-poppy-retro song that you’ll never remember the name of, but you’ll remember the feeling you had while it played. You’ll remember the feeling of Luke’s body behind yours, so present that you have to close your eyes and memorize it. 
The movements are easy enough, although Luke is letting you lead the dance. His hips sway with yours, hands on your waist. You can feel his breath on your neck and your cheekbone and you lean into the touch, laying the back of your head against his shoulder. One of your hands comes up to find his neck, curling around the back of it and playing with his curls. You know he can see down the front of your going-out top like this, cleavage on full display, and that’s just how you want it. 
His movements grow more sure over the duration of the song. By the end of it, Luke’s hips are pressed securely against your backside and his hands are keeping you in place. At the end of the first song, you wait for Luke to step away, but he doesn’t. You just keep dancing– through a second, a third, and a fourth song.
Halfway through the fourth, Luke starts to kiss over your neck. It’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for. You hum and press into his touch, baring your neck for him and sighing. The fourth song ends and fades into a fifth. Luke keeps kissing. You keep rolling your hips. Luke pulls you back when you get too far away. You curl your fingers into his hair when his mouth parts from your pulsepoint for too long.
You turn into Luke’s body finally, unable to play this game for a moment more. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling yourself into his orbit until your hips are flush and your tits are pressed against his front. 
There’s a lull momentarily, just a flash of hesitation in Luke’s eyes, but it’s gone in a second. That look is replaced with a dark, affected flicker deep in Luke’s pupils. He leans down, you tilt your head up, and you’re kissing each other frantically, bodies still moving in time with the beat of the sixth song. 
Your hands tug on Luke’s hair and one of his rises up the line of your back to tangle in yours. The other hand slides lower and you, for one, are very happy that Luke has such a big wingspan. You saw it when he reached a hand out to throw a dart and again when he was celebrating with his friend, another brunet in a backwards hat. His hand goes all the way to your behind and squeezes, which has you swooning.
You’re sure that you look sloppy and desperate on the dance floor, but with the way Luke’s dick is straining against his pants and pressing against your hip, you can’t be bothered to care. Luke’s mouth is insistent against yours and you feel positively feral.
It’s warm in the club all of a sudden. You feel like you’re sweating and you want to get out of these clothes– and you want to get Luke out of his. 
Luke kisses you until you’re gasping for air and you have to break away. Even then, he starts to kiss down your neck again, which has you arching into his touch. 
“Go home with me?” Luke asks between the open-mouthed marks he leaves on your neck. 
And you will, but you also don’t want to sit through a car ride. Your apartment is about twenty minutes from here and you don’t know how far Luke’s is… hell, he could live above the bar for all you care, and that would be too far.
“Too far,” you reply before tracing a line over the strong column of his throat. “I want you now.”
Luke chuckles, amused by your chagrin. “We can’t just–”
“Come on.” You take Luke’s hand and drag him towards the bathrooms. There’s a single stall employee bathroom that you know the code for– only because one of your friends used to date one of the bartenders at this bar. He gave her the code and she’d shared it with your group of friends, then you’d continued using it after they’d broken up. Part of that is revenge for the bartender turning out to be evil, as ex-boyfriends often are, but the other part is that you prefer having a bathroom that is constantly stocked with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels. 
In this case… you prefer having a bathroom that is locked and very private.
You punch in the code, waiting for the keypad to light up green, and let yourself in. You pull Luke into the room behind you, leaning back against the door as it swings shut. 
Luke crowds into your space, cupping your cheeks and pushing your hair back until it’s a tangled mess. All the while, he’s mouthing against your lips. You take his enthusiasm as a sign that he’s on board with your idea– that you can hook up right here and there’s no need to wait. The doorknob is digging into your side, but you don’t mind all that much. 
He’s so strong. You can feel it in the way his fingertips dig into your sides and how his body covers yours. 
You both move with ferver, hands roaming and touching every inch that you can. Luke tastes like the beer he was drinking and smells of faint cologne. His tongue licks at your mouth like a flame and the sounds of your lips meeting and retracting fills your ears. You can hear how he’s starting to pant into your mouth, and one of his hands comes up to squeeze your boob. You return the favor, fitting your hand around his length over the front of his pants. He moans into your mouth and you swoon, knees buckling slightly.
They buckle until you find your way to the ground. “Can I?” you ask, petting over the tent in front of your face. You look up at Luke, leaning forward to smooth an inviting kiss to his bulge. 
“Fuck, yes,” Luke replies. One of his hands stays flat against the back of the door, while the other gathers your hair at the back of your head.
You let a smirk crawl over your face, maintaining eye contact with Luke and hoping that it looks sexy. Then, you’re quick to unbutton his pants and pull the zipper down, working to free Luke’s cock. You can practically feel your mouth watering, filling with spit and craving his taste. 
When you pull his pants and boxers down, Luke’s cock springs free and bounces back towards his stomach. He’s got a big cock, lengthier than you’ve seen in any of your previous hookups. He’s girthy, too, and you’re happy to see that he’s circumcised. Not that you’d complain if he wasn’t, but… whatever. It’s not important. What’s important is that he’s right here and your mouth isn’t around him yet.
You dive in, tongue first. At the first union of Luke’s precum with your tastebuds, you moan and allow your eyelids to flutter shut. You bob your head, taking inch after inch of Luke until there’s hardly any space remaining– at least, you hope not. He’s big and you’d like to look accomplished, able to deepthroat him. It’s a pride thing. After pushing your head down just the tiniest bit further, just enough so you gag around his tip and your mouth constricts around his cock, you pull back.
You pump his cock while you breathe, shaking away the lightheadedness that came with his girth filling your windpipe and cutting off your airway. You lick from his base to his tip with the flat of your tongue, gazing up at Luke with wide eyes to catch his reaction.
He’s breathing hard, his stomach tensing and hand twitching against the back of the door, like he wants to grab something. “That’s so good,” Luke gasps out, his other hand tightening in your hair. He stares down at you, pupils dark and all-consuming. 
You open your mouth and slide his length over your tongue, taking him deep.
“So good,” Luke repeats. His hips push forward, encouraging you to do more.
So that’s how it’s going to be, you think. Well, you certainly don’t mind if Luke wants to take control.
You bring your hand to the back of your head, covering his fingers. Luke stares at you, but he doesn’t move. If his cock wasn’t in your mouth, tip poking at the back of your throat, you’d giggle at the dumbfounded look on his face. Instead, you just push your head forward with that hand over Luke’s, then pull back, and then push forward again. You drop Luke’s hand and thumb over his thigh, tracing the light hair that adorns it.
“You– do you want me to fuck your mouth?” Luke asks, stammering over the first word. His cheeks flush as he questions you. You can’t tell if it’s from being turned on or if it’s because he’s embarrassed that he even has to ask.
You nod, eyes half-hooded and bottom teeth accidentally scraping against the underside of his cock. You drop your mouth open wider, and your jaw is starting to ache, but what does it matter? Luke’s grip has grown even tighter on your hair.
“Are you sure?” he checks again, although his hips are already starting to work back, giving him room to push forward when you confirm.
You nod again, flexing your tongue against the vein that pulses along his shaft. 
“Fuck, that’s hot. Okay, um, if it’s too much,” Luke says, scrambling a bit. “Just, uh, hit me. Hit my thigh if it’s too much and you need a break, okay?”
You let a breath of laughter leave your nose and you pat his thigh firmly to show that you understand. You bring that hand around the back of his thigh and encourage him forward, eyes never breaking from his.
Luke starts slow at first, using his grip on your hair to drag you closer to his base and then back to his tip. He sees how much you can take and how far he can go before his tip falls off of your tongue and leaves your mouth completely. He directs your head like a marionette on a string, recapturing his cock and filling your mouth with it. 
You pinch his thigh and whine, the sound muffled around Luke’s length, but he gets the message. 
“Okay, fuck,” Luke curses. He starts to pull your hair harder, then push down on your scalp itself more harshly. “Letting me fuck your mouth in the bar bathroom, that’s so dirty, Y/N.”
You moan at that, eyes rolling back.
“Oh, you like being dirty, huh?” Luke asks. “You like it when I talk to you? Or do you just like the idea of me ruining you?”
That. You moan again, the vibration from the noise reverberating around his length. 
Luke gains more confidence, bringing his hand down from the door and rearranging your hair into a ponytail of sorts. Both hands are on the sides of your head, holding your skull like they would hold your hips if he was fucking into you from behind. 
“So good at gagging on my cock, babe,” Luke continues. His eyes are flashing with ideas, a new light glinting through them. His hips are moving steadily, methoidcally. Forward, backward, forward, backward. His tip nudges the back of your throat with each thrust. You do actually gag when his cockhead drags over your uvula, but it makes Luke moan and increase his pace.
You like watching him come closer and closer to the edge, using your mouth. You claw at his thighs, trying to keep him as close as you can. You continue to moan, choke, and splutter around his cock, making as much noise as you can. Luke is returning the favor, groaning and grunting and heaving out harsh breaths while his pace grows more and more frenzied.
“Never even met me before, but here you are, on your knees in a bar bathroom,” Luke grits out, a twisted smirk on his face. “So willing to be used.”
Yes. You can feel a trail of drool carve a path down your chin. Luke fucks it out of you. His balls knock against your chin as he starts to lose control of himself, thrusting into your mouth as far as the hole will allow. 
“You’re gonna swallow my cum,” Luke says lowly, his jaw clenched. He holds your head down, your jaw unhinged and deepthroating his cock. “Then I’m going to take you home and finish the job.”
You nod as best you can with his hands still holding your head in place.
Luke nods in return, then the pads of his thumbs dig into the thin skin of your temple and he snaps his hips forward.
His thrusts are precise and rough, which has you gagging like you’ll reject his cock, but you won’t. You want his cum. You want it in your mouth, sliding down your throat, and settling in your stomach. Your next moan is more of a gurgle around Luke’s shaft, tongue pressing into his skin.
“Good girl, I’m close,” Luke says. “Keep your mouth open for me.”
You can’t open your mouth any more than you already have, but you try your best. Your eyes sting a bit as Luke continues to abuse your throat, but you keep your watery gaze locked on him. 
Luke groans and shudders, taking one of his hands from your head and returning it to the door. He forms a fist this time, knocking his forearm against the door and then leaning his head against it. He braces himself, staring down at you with his lips parted, clearly affected and transfixed by the look on your face. 
His entire body rolls forward when his cum bursts from his slit and shoots down your throat. Luke moans loud, the sound seeming to echo off the walls of the spacious room. 
His hips stop moving, but you bob your head for an extra minute, making slurping noises around his cock and swallowing as best you can. Some of his cum joins the drool leaking from your mouth when Luke pulls away, unable to take any further stimulation. 
You swallow a final time, your throat aching with a sharp pain from overuse. You wipe under your bottom lip with the pads of your first three fingers, then lick the remaining fluids from them. 
“Shit…” Luke drawls, his chest rising and falling with ample effort. His eyes look far away, although they’re fixed on the way your mouth circles your fingers. “Baby, I gotta get you home.”
“Oh, yeah?” You tease, your voice rough. Your words even break a bit, catching on the dry surface of your tongue. “Are you going to let me sit on your face and ruin you?”
Luke’s eyes widen and his pupils dilate, his tongue licking over his bottom lip. He reaches for your elbow and helps you stand, capturing your mouth in a long kiss. “Among other things,” he breathes out when you part. “Yeah, let’s get your cum on my chin too. You can see how good it looks.”
“My friends said they’d pay for the Uber,” you tell him, patting his chest. You reach for his underpants, then his jeans, and make sure they’re snug, zipped, and buttoned around his hips. You kiss him softly. “Let’s go get my purse.”
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notes: been in a Lu mood lately :) not much writing has come from it, but i have been in a Lu mood.
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seewetter · 1 day ago
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How low can you go, discourse edition!
"Lawful evil" is a dungeons & dragons game mechanic, not a political analysis. You look silly.
"The person in the comic is correct" which person? They are both stick figures!
To have meaningful discussion about politics, including transfeminist politics, comics aren't suited as the main source of theory. Stick figure comics can cause you to have theoretical insights, they can communicate politics, but they mix entertainment and thought. They are easily digested, like a tv series that people binge watch instead of engaging with a text slowly and methodically.
Beth's* (*just the alias Talia gave her, I know) mistake, in my view, is to try and use the form of a frequently published (!) comic to try and discuss things that must be read "in the context of everything that came before it". In other words, complex theory made so bite-sized that an onlooker can easily misconstrue it as a stand-alone statement. Complex theory that sincere people can misconstrue and that bad faith actors can much more easily misrepresent than long-form communication.
The tags that Beth wrote and got screenshotted by the first commenter are not clear enough. "Comic" can mean comic strip (the individual page of the comic we see embedded in the first post of this thread) or it can mean comic as a totality (all green stickfigure comics Beth makes as a totality). And as a result, outsiders unfamiliar with the comics who don't read the backlog have to trust the comic author (a complete stranger) that these comics are sympathetic to transfeminism.
On the other hand, I think we can expect people to read a note like that and read a small sampling of previous comic pages to get a feel for how honest the author is being. It's not too much to expect people to actually sit down and make an informed decision about whether this comic advocates these ideas. An author would usually not leave a note like Beth did. People who "test the waters" to express their bigoted opinions do so wordlessly, leaving the audience to interpret. They want as many people as possible to read the bigotry with their guard down. "This comic is progressive, just check the backlog" is something bigots are only likely to say when they've been attacked and are defending their stuff. It's not something people say while publishing their work.
Personally, I think the comic page that is causing this strong reaction isn't very insightful. The message I'm taking away from it is "some people think the height of (trans) activism is to not have friends with privilege, to only assume the worst about the intentions of privileged people and to justify it with the veneer of liberation theory which does not support that reading". But here's the thing. It's a comic. It doesn't have to blow my min. It doesn't have to liberate. You and I and everybody else can be unimpressed by this page and we can move along with our day or read the backlog for better pages or ignore its existence. The strong reaction from user thegreenbisamurai is hyperbolic. But I think you, dear reader, now have sufficient context. I'm not assigning equal blame, I think blame firmly lies with people who make zero effort to engage with a post that explicitly asks them to engage with more. But I do think this discussion will always be absurd, will always have a sillyness to it, because
#you fuckers better not take this as a generally anti-transfeminist comic#this exists in the context of everything posted before it. you are fully equipped to understand this as a comic about a specific behavior
will never make sense as a request unless we really assume that people are expected to read an entire oeuvre before judging a stick figure comic.
The strong reactions (at least in this thread) appear to be "this comic f*cked up" or "the author is displaying a discriminatory idea to me". Basically various people who read the comic don't get the point the comic is making. Perhaps in part because "wow some people really are over-suspicious and separatist and then blame theory, huh" is not a message that particularly helps people unpack their own suspicions and separatist opinions.
"Privileged people always have bad intentions. It's only a matter of time till they strike and betray you. That's what we have learned from good theory books." is a much more common opinion than "Trans and cis people can't be friends. No more race mixing." Right? The comic aims very broadly at all these tendencies, likely even at tendencies not directly voiced by the stick figures! I mean just look at all the wild hills people try to die on because they have a doomer interpretation of some theory book. Uh, the list is endless! But I can see how the user thegreenbisamurai might feel that the comic lumps all these people together not because it is primarily critiqueing bad reads of theory (for an audience already accustomed to poking fun at both self-destructive hyper-suspicious mindsets and also used to poking fun at separatists) but because, if you don't know what the core critique is or what the audience of this comic believes, it can feel like its lumping every target of criticism together into a strawman group of bad people. Laughable bad people, easily mocked for their backwater beliefs, such as their hillbilly mistrust of cis and transmasc strangers, all of whom are quasi-racist redneck separatists who us civilized open-minded trans people do not take seriously.
That's why 4chan was mentioned, I think. Because 4chan comics represent that kind of "lumping together", strawmanning the Other without nuance. And in a way, Beth's comic does do that too! Like yes, it's written for people who poke fun at these tendencies, who've already agreed that they think all these ideas are bad. The comic doesn't feel the need to justify itself to parts of the trans community who feel these suspicions of cis people or transmasculine people. They are not the intended audience -- and yet the tags below the comic are sort of for them, aren't they. They are expected to have sufficient willingness to read the comic in good faith, to not attack a statement that is built on the unspoken assumption that they are wrong. And that their feelings are misguided, mistaken, and that some introspection is necessary to stop misusing theory to argue that suspicions of privileged people are justified. Which, to be honest, I wish that too! In a perfect world, I want people to just introspect about every opinion they hold, every emotional reaction they have. I want people to approach these comics in good faith and treat them with good humour and a grain of salt.
But for many people, this hyper-suspicion is dead serious. It's a defense mechanism. And their reading of theory is strongly shaped by the fact that these theory books gave them more information about worrisome things in society. That's one of their takeaways from transfeminist literature, because that's what they were looking for: things to watch out for, potential dangers.
I really don't think it makes sense to expect people to make that leap. I know there are trans people out there who have convinced themselves that no trans person has a happy relationship with their parents! That your parents can't love you and will always betray you. These are assumptions and sweeping assertions made from a raw emotional place. A place of stupidity. They can't be fixed by telling people to reconsider, because these ideas have some kind of "use" for people. I think it's important to remember how lonely some trans people are, how dependent some trans people are on the trans community -- how dependent some transfem people are on the transfem communities around them. How risky it can be (or feel) to reach out to a privileged person. Heck, I am hyper-cautious about it myself. Sometimes it's easier to delude oneself that these are iron laws of reality, that no one out there is happy among cis or transmasc friends or also comforting: being right, always, always being proven right eventually, and not having to bear the pain that reality is unpredictable and weird, preferring predictable patterns like that everyone will predictably betray you.
Bad takes? In my trans community? It's more likely than you...get it, it's a meme, I hate myself.
Anyway, I don't expect Beth to not make funny stick figure comics. I don't know if she has a financial incentive to post all the time, but she may have. And if there's a financial (or otherwise) incentive to post a lot, sometimes posters like that will express thoughts badly. That's the nature of how mass production works. If I make a comic every week, I may just not find the time to really make the message perfect. I know this. That's why I take Beth's comics with a grain of salt -- I smile at some when I come across them, I think others (like this one) are meaningless. There's even some I disagree with (I don't have examples for that, I'm not a regular reader).
But equally I don't expect people on Tumblr to be able to parse the meaning of a comic or to read a backlog of comics. Remember the Neil Gaiman revelations of the past few weeks? In the aftermath of that, there was a post going around that claims that Gaiman (on top of being a horrific serial abuser) ripped off a small author. But I've also come across a counter-claim, that some guy on the internet invented the similarities between Gaiman's Sandman story and the universe of this small author wholecloth. For clout! I say all this because I don't have the time "read the backlog". Maybe in a few years, I'll have the money and time to read the small author and compare her work to what I know of Sandman (which is from the tv series, never read the comics). But until then, I can only relate to it with ignorance. I don't know! The internet is full of green stick figure comics or posts making accusations. And we have to make ethical judgment calls. I think thegreenbisamurai's post is actually fairly subdued, the typical grumblings of someone who is unconvinced by an argument and finds it unfair (for pretty understandable reasons!). I also think Beth's comic is fine, nothing that needs to change about it. And I find Talia Bhatt's responses fine too! So in short, I don't really think there is much to talk about here.
But I do want to address summertimesadnessgirl's reaction.
"This is about Christianity, right?"
It is? How so? Ok, I've read the whole post and I guess I'll respond with more substance later...but, to employ a Christian rhetorical figure, what a hell of an opening statement!
"Look.
This isn't complicated.
It actually is possible for double think to exist which causes people to support ideology which ruins the lives of people they see every day and are "nice" to."
I think it is helpful to quote the people you respond to. When you don't quote them, you end up writing about niceness and doublethink and Christianity and talking about various things other people aren't explicitly talking about and it comes across like you are from another planet.
The thing summertimesadnessgirl is trying to say (I think) is that a person like Beth can be a transfeminist with hypocritical (transphobic, transmisogynistic) tendencies.
I take it that had summertimesadnessgirl clearly stated this, it would be far less confusing to read!
"They teach it to people who grow up in Christianity, for sure."
There are 2,000,000,000 people on this planet who grow up in a Christian tradition. Do you know how many German Catholics have committed themselves to continuous mass protests against a sexist, homophobic and transphobic church doctrine? Have you seen the uproar?
Ok, that's not the point though, is it. Chilean or German Catholics and Unitarian Universalists may be chill people, but current Catholic doctrine is monstrous yet "nice", and evangelicals like John MacArthur dare to say that we live on a "disposable" planet. Nietzsche had a point when he critiqued the Christian idea of love that masks hate. So I'll grant summertimesadnessgirl that you can convince good people to do evil things through something like a religion. You can convince people to define "nice" or "virtuous" in ways that are destructive and horrible.
"They teach it to people who grow up with white supremacy and bigotry."
I wouldn't be so sure. A lot of white supremacists know that they are evil. H.P. Lovecraft is the rare historical figure whose racism came from genuine ignorance about foreign cultures (his parents were mostly in mental institutions, he grew up alone next to a bookshelf full of books with racist propaganda about Africa and the Middle-East) -- and notably, Lovecraft came to regret much of his ideas and writings towards the end of his life. But like most racists know that they are just fantasizing the Other into existence. Putin's racist advisor Aleksandr Dugin knows that Russia doesn't really have "it's own reality", he just says that because it confuses people. The darling of the modern alt-right, Julius Evola argued for racial supremacy "on spiritual grounds" just because he knew nobody could argue with him on that terrain. Nazi Germany declared their neighbours, the French, to be subhuman and their culturally completely alien allies, the Japanese, to be "Yellow Aryans". Does that sound like a conclusion reached naively, through ignorance? Or does it sound like political calculation?
But okay, that's not the point either, is it. Yes, good people can internalize racial messaging. People can hate racism yet have difficulties interacting with racial minorities.
And yes, those observations do apply to this comic. A hypothetical version of the comic's author could promote hostility towards some important liberatory goals! It's possible.
I don't think so though, and I have reason to be wary of such accusations.
Separatism (Group A can't be friends with Group B) is historically associated exclusively with bigots. Even modern black supremacists like Gazi Kodzo, who argue black and white people can't befriend each other, are in bed with the alt right (Kodzo also believes that Hitler did nothing wrong, and his insistence that he's gay and a socialist don't really help convince me that his anti-white-black friendship stance offers any kind of helpful future to anyone)
Suspicions of ill intentions and betrayal are fine, but people who use these suspicions as preaching material and get mad when someone trusts other people are preventing our ability as a transgender movement to not remain isolated and politically removed from the gears that enable us to prevent our extermination.
The comics method that people should not read into theory and should instead be self-reflective is not some secretly bigoted opinion.
"It's part of lawful evil culture."
That's a 5. Oh, I'm so sorry. The wisdom check fails and you're going to have to roll for initiative. Look, I don't think these are drow you're attacking, I think they're just other trans people. Oh no! Your character won't be able to stop her attack. I'm so sorry.
"Lawful evil culture includes even people who engage in doing a behavior themselves on a regular and consistent basis and claim to love the behavior and then work to make the behavior illegal and punish people who make the behavior possible-"
Give me an example.
I hate to put people on the spot like this, but I think what happened here is this: summertimesadnessgirl had a (genuine, not joking!) epiphany and is articulating something worth articulating: that there are often people who seem to be on our side but then back legal efforts that go in the exact opposite direction. Example: Kyrsten Sinema, a bisexual activist whose radical ideas seem to have evaporated in her role as a politician in Washington. Example: overhyped New York mayor Cuomo, who spoke the language of progressive activism and intersectionality so well, that his sudden betrayal of Black Lives Matter activists was all the more horrific!
But without examples, people don't know what you're talking about.
Other examples may include Christian hate preachers like Jerry Falwell who are caught with male prostitutes (Falwell famously tried to excuse his behaviour and said something along the lines of "to understand evil, you have to explore evil").
But crucially, your examples need to work. Falwell is a bad analogy for this comic, because Falwell is a hate preacher who secretly betrays his hateful community. Cuomo and Sinema are bad analogies because neither are sincere, Sinema may have morphed into a monster over time, or perhaps both were always dishonest people just waiting to manipulate progressives for political gain. None of these examples, as much as they express the duality of speaking vs doing, are really examples of a well-meaning person passing a horror law!
Perhaps the closest analogy, in the legal realm, of genuinely well-meaning progressive people unleashing horror on minorities happened in Florida under Ron DeSantis, who passed some kind of anti-LGBT legislation that found a lot of support among liberals. But importantly, those liberals didn't realize what the legislation did in its entirety. It was framed as a support for parents, I believe, and quite a few liberals just didn't look at the proposal in detail.
Plenty of material for summertimesadnessgirl to pontificate about "lawful evil culture" and confirm that lawful evil culture works exactly as defined by using examples... but if these examples are unrelated to this comic, then...then why?
"Like homophobic and trans phobic people who vote to have rights taken away from queer people while crossdressing in their sex lives or having gay sex, or people who regularly use porn and vote to have porn censored and make the lives of people who are consenting adults legally producing porn difficult. Those things are a regular feature of the cognitive dissonance in lawful evil culture."
Some people want power. Bigots are quick to give power to those who support their bigotry.
The official biography of Jarosław Kaczynski (the right-wing former leader of Catholic supremacists in Poland) states that in university, Kaczynski went to gender consultation. So it's possible Kaczynski, someone who has done harm to queer and trans people at the highest level, is a closeted transfem. But what summertimesadnessgirl has to prove is that the Kaczynski's of the world aren't aware of what they are doing. That they go to gender consultation, get positive vibe about being trans and then join the leopards eating faces party through sheer cognitive dissonance.
That's what's so hard to believe about the argument.
Like I understand Kanye West watches porn and wants it banned. But I'm pretty sure Kanye West feels guilt at his porn consumption. He calls himself a porn addict. He thinks something bad is being done to him, he interprets the pleasure he feels through the frame of an evil industry that he blames for his feelings.
The Jerry Falwell's and Jarosław Kaczynski's of the world may crossdress in bed (I don't know) but they aren't simultaneously excited about promoting queer rights and also trying to get queer people killed. That's not how cognitive dissonance works.
"Lawful evil culture will argue that something the person does is fun and they like it, but it's a net negative for society, or that it's out of it's proper place, or some other thing."
Yes, but what does this have to do with this comic?
"There are a bunch of reasons they do this."
Yes, but how does this relate to this comic?
"But pretending that a group of people who follow all belief system that says "everyone in this group deserves this bad outcome" will not turn on you because they are nice doesn't work."
The comic differentiates between two types of groups: demographics (men, women, trans people, cis people, transmasculine people, transfeminine people) and agents of marginalization (transphobes, transmisogynists, etc.). You don't seem to? Should I believe that Kaczynski, a Christian nationalist, is safe to be around? Hell no, I'm not suicidal! Should I believe that my friend Xander, a trans guy who has never said or done anything cruel to me and whom I want to protect from his bigoted family, who does not follow a belief system that "everyone in this group deserves this bad outcome"... should I believe this friend of mine will betray me? That this is a law of nature? That I must be afraid of him, though he is a decade younger than me? Do I need to quiver in fear?
People are people. I've met transmasc genderfluid people who have treated me without the barest shred of consideration or kindness and projected their trauma onto me with zero consideration for what transfems go through and trans men who have been far kinder, who never hurt me in any way. There is no neat box that will quickly tell you who is safe, there are only (behavioural) red flags.
rationalize
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[ID: Three panel comic with crudely drawn stick people
Panel 1: A leaf green person is talking to a grass green person with a hat and glasses.
Leaf: "And then Orange said that-"
Grass: "Orange"? Your friend is orange?"
Leaf: "Yeah?"
Grass: "Why do you have non-green friends? Don't you know about misoviridy??"
Leaf: "…I have plenty of non-green friends. I have grayscale friends, even."
Panel 2: Grass Green solemnly holds Leaf Green's shoulder.
Grass: "Look. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but every single misoviridy-exempt friend you have secretly hates you.
Leaf: "Uh. That is not true."
Grass: "It's basic viridist theory. Every single moment they're around you, they're thinking about it."
Panel 3: The grass green person tips their hat down.
Grass: "Look. I get it. You're naive and uninformed. You don't know better. But read "Pruning Greens." Then you will understand."
Leaf: "I already read that. It did not say the things you are saying."
Grass: "You will see. It is inevitable."
Leaf: "No I think you're just finding a new way to rationalize really unhealthy thought patterns here actually"
End ID.]
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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 days ago
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Our Baby.
Best Friends!Wandanat x little!reader
Summary: Natasha and Wanda are best friends who have always only been that, but when you come crashing into their lives and take on the roles of caregiver will their relationship deepen?
Word Count: 1.4K
Warnings: Age Regression, mentions of stress and being overwhelmed, caregiver/regressor, fluffy, comfort
Authors note: I saw a post about two best friends being caregivers for someone and this happened sooooo let me know if you want more
Also, to all the littles, seeing this, please tred lightly on this blog! This is my big 18+ blog, but I do have some little!reader fics. Everything is marked accordingly!
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Wanda and Natasha had been inseparable for years. The two women were practically extensions of one another, sharing a bond so deep that they didn’t think anyone could ever come between them. That is, until you came crashing into their lives—quite literally.
It had been a particularly hectic day in the city. You were rushing down the sidewalk, juggling your tote bag and a stack of books, when you collided headlong into two very sturdy figures. Hot liquid splashed everywhere, the unmistakable aroma of coffee filling the air.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” you gasped, immediately dropping your things to grab napkins from your bag. You looked up, your wide, apologetic eyes meeting two startled, but intrigued, gazes.
Wanda smiled gently, already sensing the warmth and innocence radiating from you. “It’s alright. No harm done.”
Natasha, on the other hand, smirked, brushing coffee from her leather jacket. “You’ve got quite the impact for someone so small.”
Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you continued to stammer apologies, your hands nervously twisting the napkins. Something about their presence was overwhelming—but not in a bad way. It felt… safe, somehow.
That moment sparked the beginning of something neither Wanda nor Natasha had anticipated. They’d initially invited you out to lunch to reassure you that everything was fine. But one lunch turned into several, and soon, the two heroines found themselves eagerly waiting for your next meeting. You were sweet, playful, and endearing in a way they couldn’t quite describe.
Wanda and Natasha hadn’t immediately noticed your little tendencies. You were so good at masking that even they, two of the most observant people you’d ever met, didn’t put it all together right away. But over time, the signs began to show.
It started with little things. Like the time you fell asleep on their couch during a movie night. Wanda, ever the caregiver, went to drape a blanket over you and froze mid-motion. Your thumb was tucked in your mouth, and you were suckling softly in your sleep. She didn’t say anything at first, but the sight stuck with her.
Then there was your choice of drinkware. You always seemed to have colorful tumblers with cartoon characters on them. Wanda thought they were cute, but Natasha couldn’t help but tease you about your “sippy cups.” You only giggled nervously, brushing it off as something you just liked.
The biggest hint came the first time they asked you to spend the night unexpectedly. They could see the hesitation in your face before you shyly asked, “Can I go home to grab something first? I, um, I need my stuffie to sleep.” You didn’t elaborate, but they saw the soft blush dusting your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. Natasha, being Natasha, simply smirked and said, “Of course, detka. Everyone needs their comforts.”
But the moment of clarity came on a particularly stressful day for you. It had been weeks of mounting pressure from college—assignments, deadlines, and social obligations piling up until you couldn’t take it anymore. You showed up at their apartment in tears, unable to mask how overwhelmed you felt.
Wanda had just opened the door when you pushed past her, pacing in the living room. “Ish no fair!” you cried, your voice higher-pitched and trembling. “They ep ivin me too mush stuffs, an I an’t do it! I an’t—I no wanna!”
Wanda blinked, stunned for a moment before her motherly instincts kicked in. “Sweetheart,” she cooed, stepping closer. “Baby, hey, hey, it’s okay. Come here.” She gently guided you to the couch, her soothing voice and soft hands calming you just enough to sit down.
But as you tried to explain what was wrong, the words tumbled out in a way that surprised even you. “Ish so dumb! olege is too hard, an I just wan loler or wash toons. I no wan do big peoples stuff!” you wailed, curling up with your stuffie tightly clutched to your chest.
Natasha, who had been watching quietly, crouched in front of you. Her sharp, calculating gaze softened as she reached out to hold your hand. “Woah, those are some really big things to deal with, little one,” she said gently, her tone surprisingly tender. “Way too big for you to be thinking about, don’t you think?”
Wanda nodded, sitting beside you and rubbing your back. “Exactly. Mama and Daddy are here to take care of the big stuff, okay? You just focus on being our sweet little girl.”
You sniffled, looking up at them with wide, watery eyes. “Really?”
Natasha smiled, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Really. Let us handle it. You just stay small for us, alright?”
That was the day things changed. They didn’t just accept your regression—they embraced it wholeheartedly. From that point on, they made sure you always had a safe space to be yourself, no matter how little you felt. 
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧
It had been a few months since Wanda and Natasha had fully embraced being your caregivers. Their small apartment had worked for a while, but it was quickly becoming clear that it wasn’t enough space for the three of you—especially when you regressed and wanted to run around or build blanket forts. Wanda had been the first to bring up the idea of moving, and Natasha, took the lead in making it happen.
Of course, they didn’t tell you right away. They wanted it to be a surprise.
One sunny afternoon, Wanda and Natasha took you on what they called a "special outing." You didn’t think much of it at first, happily clutching your favorite stuffed animal as they guided you out to the car. But as the drive continued and the scenery shifted from busy city streets to quiet suburban neighborhoods, your curiosity piqued.
“Where are we going?” you asked, bouncing slightly in your seat.
Wanda smiled from the passenger seat, turning to look at you. “You’ll see soon, baby. Be patient.”
Natasha smirked from the driver’s seat. “I think you’ll like it, detka. It’s a big surprise.”
When the car finally pulled into the driveway of a charming two-story house, your jaw dropped. The exterior was painted a deep, calming blue with crisp white accents, and there was a small front porch with enough room for a swing. The yard was spacious and inviting, with plenty of room for you to play.
Wanda stepped out first, holding her hand out for you. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go take a look.” You held her hand, your stuffie in the other.
As soon as you stepped inside, you were in awe. The interior was just as beautiful as the outside, with a clean palette of whites and deep blues that felt cozy yet elegant. Your little heart couldn’t contain the excitement as you clutched your stuffed animal tighter, your eyes darting around the open spaces and tall ceilings.
“This is ours?” you squeaked, looking up at Wanda with wide eyes.
“Not yet,” she said with a soft laugh. “We’re still deciding, but we wanted you to see it first.”
Natasha smirked, already following the realtor as she walked through the house, discussing what changes could be made before moving in. “Go on, malen'kaya,” Natasha encouraged, nodding toward the hallway. “Explore a little.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. You darted off, your stuffie bouncing in your arms as you ran down the halls, peeking into each room. There was a large kitchen with an island perfect for baking cookies with Wanda, a spacious living room where Natasha would undoubtedly set up a big TV for movie nights, and upstairs, you found a bedroom that you just knew would be yours.
The house was perfect.
When you ran back to find Wanda and Natasha, they were standing in the living room with the realtor, discussing changes they’d like—adding a fence to the backyard for privacy, painting one of the upstairs bedrooms in softer, more playful tones, and installing blackout curtains in the master bedroom.
Natasha looked over as you skidded to a stop, a bright smile on her face. “What do you think, little one? Do you like it?”
“I love it!” you exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement.
Wanda knelt down and cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing over your soft skin. “Good. Because this is going to be your new home, sweetheart. Somewhere safe and quiet, just for us.”
Tears pricked at your eyes as you threw your arms around her, your stuffie squished between you. Natasha joined the hug, wrapping her strong arms around the both of you.
“You two are the best,” you whispered, your voice muffled by Wanda’s shoulder.
“And you’re worth it, detka,” Natasha said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “This is just the beginning.”
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captain-bubble-wrap · 2 days ago
Note
I'm curious how do you think Quinn would handle a breakup? Maybe one where he's being broken up with?
Boy, was this one hard to write... 90% of this is based on my last breakup, so... it's pretty... painful. SO ENJOY my misery! (I gave you a better ending than I had IRL, so you're welcome for that at least.)
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"I loved you, I really did."
"It doesn't have to be this way," Quinn begged. "I still love you, Y|N."
"But you don't show it, Quinn. I've been so alone for so long and I just can't put myself through this anymore." Tears had been streaming down your face for several minutes now, since this whole spiraling conversation had started, yet you never broke eye contact with him. You wanted him to know how much this was hurting you to say and just how long you had been carrying the weight of it all.
"I tried to tell myself it would pass. It was this excuse, and that excuse, but nothing ever changed. I just don't think you can handle a relationship and your career right now. I'm tired of lying to myself. I'm tired of acting like tomorrow will magically be better. It's never better."
"Y|N I'm sorry--"
"I'm sure you are, and so am I, but I can't do this anymore. I just can't."
Quinn said nothing, his eyes dropped from your face while he stood there looking completely lost.
"You always say I don't deserve to feel the way I do when I'm down, because you've caused me to feel that way, but that's as far as it goes. Nothing ever changes. It's the same stuff over and over."
"I know, that's on me," he choked out, throat tight with anxiety. "I never intended to hurt you. I didn't think things were as bad as they were. I didn't realize I was hurting you."
You just shook your head in disbelief at hearing him say he hadn't noticed what he was doing to you. "You know, maybe I just asked too much from you. Maybe I demanded too much and you had no choice but to push back. I just don't know."
Quinn's eyes flick back to you immediately, "You were never too much, and I meant that every time I told you -- every time I tried to reassure you. You have always been there for me."
"And what about you? Where were you when I needed you the most? Distant, closed off, out with the guys? Even when you were beside me, you weren't really there. I begged you to do stuff with me and you'd say sure, but something would always come up. It was like you wanted an excuse to be away from me. I understood in the beginning, but fuck! I wouldn't hear from you until the next day. 'Sorry, I fell asleep. I left my phone at the hotel.' How could I not be suspicious?"
"I never cheated on you!" Quinn cried out.
"But, Quinn, the goddamn panic attacks you caused me! That hurt me!" Your voice was so much louder now, straining to remain below a yell. He was a blur in your eyes, with the tears obstructing your vision. "I begged you for the smallest of things! Christ, I'd say, 'good night, I love', and it was like you'd just ignore what I said. You never said anything the next morning! You say you love me, but you're horrible at showing it."
Quinn's voice, on the other hand, was growing smaller each time he had to plead his case. "I never fell out of love with you, Y|N, it's just like we drifted apart. I love how you treat me. I just wasn't used to being treated that way. I'm sorry if it came off like I was pushing you away."
"It was months though, Quinn. Months of feeling like I was the third wheel or just another friend. I don't like feeling so alone in a relationship. It's horrible."
"I don't know what else to say, but I'm sorry. Can I do anything to make this better?"
You were biting your bottom lip so hard when you heard his half-assed apology you tasted blood shortly after. "No, I don't think so. Too much has happened. I never thought we'd come to this. I thought you were going to be the last guy I had to open up to; the last guy I'd have to explain my past to. I wanted you to be my last, Quinn."
"I know, and I'm sorry I hurt you like this. I just got too comfortable and never checked in with how you were feeling. It was selfish of me. I'm not proud of any of this."
"I'm sorry it had to be this way, too. Sorry I had to bring this up out of the blue, but I've just reached my breaking point one too many times."
Even through all of your anger and sadness, you wanted to walk over to him and give him one last hug, but you had to stand your ground or all of these revelations would be for nothing. Too many times before you had talked yourself out of telling him how you had felt, but there would be no going backwards now.
"I've got to put myself first for one," you finally brought yourself to say. "I'll get my stuff out of here while you're on the road."
"Y|N--," he mumbled, his eyes so sorrowful hearing you say your goodbyes, so finite and decided.
"I hope everything works out for you, Quinn. I really do. I hope you find the person that's right for you. Someone who can handle your life and schedule. Again, I'm sorry but that doesn't appear to be me."
That was it. You had said everything you had argued with yourself over for months, in a matter of minutes, and now you were leaving his apartment. You'd linger on your decision for a moment once the door closed behind you, but you had to force yourself to go forward though your heart was begging you to go back.
On the other side of the door, you wouldn't hear him finally break down; his cries unheard and his heart shattered.
You'd reach the parking garage and get in your car but you didn't leave immediately -- almost like you were wanting to see if Quinn was just behind you, but the elevator door never opened. It was for the best. What would you have done if he had? Run back over to him? Say you were sorry? It was best not to think about the what-ifs.
It would hit you, as you rolled onto the street, that the next time you returned it would be to get your things, and likely the last time you'd ever be at his apartment. That apartment held so many memories, both good and bad. It felt more like home than your own did.
You'd find yourself in a silent argument the whole drive home until one song, on your shuffled playlist, catches your ear. It was Venice Bitch, by Lana del Rey, a song you loved until, for the first time, you noticed how much it aligned with your emotions.
"Fresh out of fucks forever, trying to be stronger for you. Ice cream, ice queen... oh god, miss you on my lips. It's me, your little Venice bitch...on the stoop with the neighborhood kids, calling out bang-bang kiss-kiss...and as the summer fades away, nothing gold can stay...you're right, I told you we'd make it work, you're beautiful and I'm insane...we're American made...give me Hallmark: one dream, one life, one lover...paint me happy and blue."
The music swells, as your tears run off your jawline. You loved Quinn so much! He had been the prince you had dreamed of, wished for and what had you done?
"Oh god, love him on my lips...touch me with your fingertips...it's me your little Venice bitch."
You'd pull in your driveway, your forehead resting against the steering wheel while you screamed out in agony at your broken heart. Your body hurt from crying for so long, throat sore from such loud emotions, and chest heavy with anxiety. Eventually, you'd exit your car and drag yourself to your front door. You couldn't just crawl into bed after all of that, you would need help in crying yourself to sleep. So, in the kitchen, you'd go through two glasses of wine while you convinced yourself you were such an idiot. Realizing you had thrown away the best thing to ever happen to you, you would being crying to loudly, it was like you were screaming. It was any wonder you hadn't awoken your sleeping neighbors next door. There was no fixing this now. What was done, was done.
All you wanted was some comfort but there would be no one to give you any. Not now. You felt you didn't deserve it anyway.
Leaving the glass and open bottle on the island, you forced yourself to the bathroom to wash your face. Seeing yourself in the mirror --how broken you looked-- had you been any weaker, you would have thrown something at it to erase the image from your mind. If only it would have been that easy to erase Quinn's sad eyes pleading for you not to leave. You wish you would have just left the light off.
In your bedroom, either out of habit or for comfort you grabbed a shirt to sleep in, which had been one of Quinn's. It hadn't taken long for the slight buzz to affect you but you felt no lighter or less phased by your actions. You wondered if you ever would.
As you figured you would, you'd cry into your pillow until flat exhaustion would pull you into sleep. That was until the buzzing of your phone would wake you from the light slumber. On the screen, "Huggy Bear" illuminated the room in bold, white letters. You ended the call, but no sooner had the phone screen gone black, it was flashing again. Like the first one, you swiped the red button and the ringing finally ceased. The next time the phone would buzz would be from a text notification. The words would send butterflies pulling your heart in one hundred different directions.
"I'm outside. Please, may I talk to you?"
Torn between leaving him out there in the cold, and actually giving him a moment to say what he needed to, you laid there for a few minutes before throwing the blankets aside and stumbling down the hall to the living room. Wiping your cheeks, you unlocked the door to find him standing there, his hoodie pulled up around his messy curls and his eyes bloodshot and wet.
You lean against the doorframe for support; arms crossed in an attempt to hide your deeper emotions.
"Y|N, I don't want things to be this way. I don't want things to end like this."
It was so hard, but you stood your ground, no matter how hard you wanted to fall into his body and tell him you were sorry.
"I'll try harder. I shouldn't have taken you for granted like I did."
Finally, you say something to him with a slight shaking of your head," This wasn't all on you. I asked too much. I'm sorry."
Your stifled cries can't be held back for long, and shortly after apologizing, you cover your face with your hands to hide your crying. Your whimpers stab Quinn in the heart all over again, still feeling he's the sole reason you're feeling this way. He steps forward, and wraps his arms around you. He's so warm against the cold night air, which causes your nails to dig into his back, allowing yourself to return his embrace.
"I'm so sorry! I'm so, so sorry!" You cried out, holding on to him like a lifeline.
"So am I," Quinn whispered in to your ear, trying to keep you from a panic attack. "C'mon, let's get you back inside. Is that okay?"
You'd allow him to guide you back into the warmth of the your house. He would be the one to shut and lock the door, and through all of that, he'd still keep you pressed against his chest.
"I never wanted to make you cry," he confessed, never realizing how much he could miss the feeling of you in his arms.
"I can't believe I hurt you like that, Quinn," you replied, hiding your face from his.
"Don't apologize, please." he said, nearly on the brink of tears himself. "I'm sorry I hurt you so much that we even got to this point in the first place."
The fact that he had even wanted to see you, to drive outside of the city to get to you, and above all else, not telling you how much of a horrible person you had been, spoke volumes of Quinn's willingness to be better for you. He wrapped both arms around you tighter than he ever had before. You were shivering, wearing nothing but that oversized t-shirt, but you didn't care; being cold wasn't going to take away whatever this moment was with Quinn.
"Are you okay?" He asked, running a hand up and down your spine. "You're shaking."
"I don't know."
"Come on, pretty girl, let's get you back to bed, hm? If you'll let me."
You nod, but were still reluctant to let go of him. Now you were forced to face him and it felt terrible to still see him looking so heartbroken. His cheeks were still wet with fresh tears, as he had apparently been silently crying while he had been holding you. You touched his face and his eyes closed against your touch.
"I'm sorry."
His eyes would open again, and he would try to smile for you. "I'm sorry, too."
Without another world, Quinn would guide you back down the hall to your bedroom, rather familiar with where everything was in the house. The light was off, your phone lay in the middle of the bed with the screen on. Your wallpaper was a picture of Quinn and yourself at last year's Stanley Cup playoffs, and it was the only light in the room. Quinn would click on one of the bedside lamps before reaching for your phone.
"I always loved that photo," he said, lingering on the photo for a moment before shutting off the screen and laying it next to the lamp.
You'd crawl into the bed and he would move to tuck you in, "I don't want you to hate me, Quinn."
He'd stop moving to return his eyes to your face. "I don't, sweetheart. I don't think I could...ever. It hasn't crossed my mind."
"But--"
"I'm not upset with you, baby. This is on me. What you said was true: I should have paid more attention.
You gasped through the beginnings of another crying fit, "I don't deserve it!"
"Shh, shh," Quinn leaned forward to cradle your face with his hand. "I needed to hear it, baby. The truth hurts sometimes. I'll be okay once you are."
"Will you-- will you stay tonight?" You asked, terrified he could possibly deny your request, trying to stop crying.
"Of course," he managed to actually smile. "I'd love to."
"Quinn, I'm so--"
"It's okay, it's okay. We've both said it enough."
You'd sniffle with an added nod as he pulled back the covers to get in next to you. He'd turn off the lamp before you found your place against his chest.
"I'll be right here when you get up, okay?" He assured.
"Promise?" You mumbled.
"I promise. I also promise not to make you feel like this again."
You didn't know what to say. It was like he had completely forgiven you for everything. "I don't want to lose you."
"You haven't sweetheart. I'm right here," he said, running a hand through your hair. "I love you."
Quinn's admission made you cry again, "I love you, too, baby."
"Shh, shh, you don't need to cry. I'm right here. I'm yours as long as you want me."
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buzzingroyalty · 2 days ago
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how to grub your karkat
or you can use this for any other plush or if you wanna make a whole new plush entirely or whatever
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disclaimer im not a professional in any sense of the word and theres anything technical im doing wrong or you think you can do it better by all means dont hold back
Things you’ll need
sewing machine unless youre really dedicated but doing it by hand is gonna be an agonizing feat i promise. I just used a straight stitch for everything
Fabrics: for the main body i suggest a minky or something soft, for the inner lining something in the same color as the main body and ideally with some stretch, and anything black for the legs. Less than a yard of each will do
if youre using minky or anything furry get a lint roller. Trust me
stuffing, i used polyfil
threads that match your fabrics
good fabric scissors
sewing needle for hand sewing/fixes
karkat plush (optional)
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Heres the pattern i came up with! They are numbered for your convenience and pieces with the same numbers are going to be part of the same row of segments. cut everything out on the black lines (Make sure when you’re printing to fit the image to the page size.) on the left we have the belly pieces, the right is the main body, and we have the foot in between
Im using a relatively thin minky fabric, im sure you can use whatever but something with some fluffiness kinda helps to mask any imperfections in the sewing. When drawing out your patterns keep in mind what direction your fibers settle in and try to keep it consistent
On the wrong side of the fabric measure out at least a half inch seam allowance around each piece of the pattern, i used a centimeter and that worked but had me sweatin a bit.
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For the main body pieces fold your fabric in half before you cut so you can have 2 of each segment that are mirrored to each other, i also extended all of the #1 pieces an additional centimeter/half inch at the top so we can fold them over at the very end. I highly suggest numbering the insides of all the cut pieces, especially in a way where you will remember what direction they are each meant to sit
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After you’ve numbered all your pieces, set them aside and start making your feet!
Each of the 6 legs is made of two pieces, but i because i only had a swatch of the black minky i made up for the rest with some random black scrap fabric from an old project. Try to keep your fabric consistent if you can lol
I didnt give these pieces any more seam allowance on the fabric but i recommend adding a centimeter or half inch to the base of it to extend the length and have some more wiggle room
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like so
Instead of cutting out 12 individual pieces and struggling to stitch them all together i started with 6, then pinning each piece real tight with the right/furry side down onto my secondary fabric, and slowly stitching around the shape real close to the edges- DO NOT CLOSE THE FLAT SIDE as we are going to stuff the feet through here
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Now cut the shape out of the fabric and repeat till you have 6 feet
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Now flip those bad boys inside out, stuff up, and if you wanna you can match them to their best pairs
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now grab a pair of feeties and your #1 pieces and line them up, in this picture my belly #1 piece is shorter bc i forgot to add the extra centimeter and i recut that once i realized. Line those sides up with the right/furry parts touching and with the feet in between, flip it around to make sure everything's sitting the way you want it
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Note. i didnt realize until later but i sewed my feet in upside down. save yourself the time it takes to fix it and dont make the same mistake
Straight stitch these layers together and repeat with the next two segments our good friends #2 & #3
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Repeat this for the #2 and #3 sections but NOT THE #4, that part doesnt need feet! just line those edges up right/furry sides together and sew
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the secret to the squish of the suit is making this inner lining from another fabric and stuffing it! I used what i had leftover from a stretchy red fabric for a kanaya skirt. For this we need to make a new pattern for each section, making sure it follows the curve of the round edge but the piece itself is shorter, almost like youre removing the seam allowance you added. Mine is a centimeter shorter on the top and on the bottom and reaches to the middle
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Make one of these for each numbered segment,you only need to make half the pattern and you can fold your fabric in half on a crease and you end up with one symmetrical piece (bars)
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Now you need to pin these pieces right on top of the wrong side of your numbered furry sections and line up the straight edges like so (disclaimer for LOTS OF SCARY NEEDLES !!)
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Admittedly i didnt estimate how long these pieces needed to be very accurately and overshot it a bit, if you start pinning it from the middle and continue outwards on either side thatll ensure its not too lose and you can cut off any excess after
The only exception is piece #1, if you recall we gave this #1 section extra seam allowance. This is so we can sew down that excess at the neck later and hide any of the inside that might show once its all put together. Do not connect the top edge to the inner lining! Since i added an extra centimeter earlier im gonna leave that hanging and pin + sew down the inner lining a centimeter lower than the top edge. LEAVE THE CURVED EDGES OPEN! DONT SEW THEM TOGETHER! those stay open to stuff
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Straight stitch the lined up edges together
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Now you have all these skinned pieces of little freak and we need to connect all these segments together making sure to sew UNDER the existing stitches so we dont see those on the outside when its all put together
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Inside looks like a bit of a mess but thats fine bc its not the part that matters
Now stuff it! you might need a stick or pencil or something long and thin to get stuffing into the middle bits
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Now thats its stuffed you can finally close those curved edges. Try not to sew over a thick mound of stuffing, push it in a little further to give yourself some space and you can fluff it back out after everythings closed. I cut off that excess lining fabric after sewing
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Ough… they filleted my boy…
Finally, match up all the edges and lines and HAND SEW them right sides together. You will destroy your machine trying to work around that stuffing i promise. You also have an excuse to get up from your work desk and sew on a couch or smth. I used a standard backstitch for a tight finish and again, make sure you sew under any existing stitches so they arent visible on the outside!
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Speaking of the outside, once you stitch everything together you can very gently flip this sucker inside out
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This is @hatamonu’s cat Cocaina, aka Coco. Her perfectly square figure made it into my grub files somehow so shes essential to the tutorial
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Check the fit and all thats left to do is roughly baste stitch down that excess neck fabric onto the stuffed lining and youre set! I gave the thread slight tugs as i went to tighten the opening a bit put dont tighten it too much
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tadaaaaa
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It fits pretty snug but starts to slip a bit with motion. Heres a bounce test
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 If you do shake your baby make sure to safety pin the plush to the suit so he doesnt prematurely shed his exosekeleton
Now spread that baby fever and show your baby to the world
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pics from the ALA 2025 homestuck meetup and supplied by para.dox.cos
Tysm for coming along this ride with me especially if you followed the prototype journey on twitter, much thanks to my more sewing savvy friend for the solution to my grub dilemma and for helping me design and build my dolorosa cosplay <3 much love and hopefully many more homestuck cosplays and meetups to come in the future!
164 notes · View notes
cherry-coffees · 24 hours ago
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pitfighter!Sevika x f!reader 
(for my friend who's obsessed with both Sevika and Rhea Ripley – love you!)
cw: 1.6K words | mdni! smutty talk, implied sex, mentions of violence (nothing crazy, just vague pitfighting stuff), Sevika but Rhea Ripley inspired basically
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The wrestling stadium booms with excitement. Pitfighting has been becoming more and more popular: one of Zaun’s ever-growing favorite pastimes. And, along with it, one woman quickly rose to fame. Sevika. She had the whole city captivated by her fighting skills, even with her one metal arm. Tickets to her matches always sold out quickly – too quickly for you to have ever seen one. 
So when you and your friend are walking through Zaun, having a little day to yourselves in the midst of jobs and usual everyday tasks, you take your chance. As you pass by the pitfighting arena, a few people stand outside, trying to make quick money off of re-selling tickets to Sevika’s upcoming match. You glance at your friend, then shrug because why not? You're interested to see what all the hype is about, having just caught glimpses of Sevika on posters and ads for the pitfighting arena. 
But when the match starts and Sevika steps out, you get the hype.
The way she takes down her opponents is easy, careless even. Her opponent, way too confident in herself, charges at Sevika, who easily sidesteps her. She wraps one hand around her opponent's throat and lifts her slightly just to slam her down onto the ground. Sevika holds her there, ignoring her opponent's desperate thrashing to get up like it's nothing. And holy shit, is she smirking at the bigscreen? Paired with the tightest black bodysuit you've ever seen and a thick layer of black makeup around her eyes, it looks way too alluring. 
You’re entranced, watching every move Sevika makes, every punch she lands, every breath she takes. You barely register when your friend nudges you, indicating they’re going to the bathroom. You nod absently, eyes still trained on the match.
Sevika wins, of course, and you find yourself cheering loudly along with the entire stadium. But when she steps out of the ring, the lights go up, and people start filing out of the stands. You blink, your senses coming back to you. Realizing you're now alone in the arena, you frown. Shit. Where was the bathroom again?
After leaving the stands and a few minutes of wandering around the arena, you find a narrow hall with a door marked with a bathroom sign on it. Perfect. 
You swing open the bathroom door, eyes flitting over the stalls. Huh. Your friend definitely isn't in here, but neither is anyone else. You step further into the bathroom, seeing all the stalls open, and your face contorts in a look of confusion. The arena had been so crowded for Sevika's match, so why is this bathroom empty? Is it out of order? 
Your thoughts are interrupted when the door swings open and relief shoots through you. Ah, so you're not the only spectator looking for a bathroom. But as you turn, you find yourself face to face with Sevika. 
Your jaw drops.
Sevika's eyebrows raise, tilting her head slightly as she runs a sweat towel over her muscular arms. "You a fighter?" 
"Uh-" you're too stunned by this meeting to answer coherently. Sevika stands at about six feet tall, clearly intimidating paired with her bulging muscles and deep voice. But as she eyes you with slight curiosity, all you can think about is how absolutely fucking hot she is. 
"I'll take that as a no," Sevika snorts. "Not that you look like one. You know this bathroom is for fighters, yeah?"
Oh.
"I- did not," your words come out almost sheepish as you fidget slightly, shifting your weight from one leg to the other. You try to focus on her words and not the way her biceps flex. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."
"You're fine, doll," Sevika brushes past you to look in the bathroom mirror as she finishes wiping herself down. You try not to look too much, you really do.
"I- should go," the words come out before you can stop them and you internally cringe. You don't want to leave, of course, but you feel extremely out of place in this bathroom – especially now that Sevika's here.
But Sevika just smirks and you can hear the smugness dripping in her tone. "Why? Seems like you like what you see."
You ignore the automatic flush in your cheeks. "I- it's not like that." It's a lie, of course, but you can't help but feel slightly defensive as you turn to face her in the center of the bathroom. The air suddenly feels so much thinner now, so much harder to breathe. "I just, uh, really admired your fight."
Sevika laughs, reaching and slipping out a cigarette from god knows where, lighting it with her metal arm and taking a drag. "Oh yeah? Well, what a compliment. What part did you like, doll?"
"Um, well, I was impressed when you swept that girl's leg so easily." The answer comes naturally because, after all, you had been impressed.
"Uh-huh." When you pause, she makes a gesture, turning from the mirror to face you. Her dark eyes, complete with the usual pitfighter makeup look, meet yours. You swear her gaze burns. "I can't imagine you'd like violence a lot, looking so put together." You swear her eyes trace the neckline of your top that dips just low enough and hugs your body in all the right places. "What else did you like?"
You hesitate. "Just your strength in general, I guess. You- watching you destroy all those people so easily was crazy." You can't help but briefly glance again at her arms that subtly flex her hard-earned muscle. You will your mind away from its filthy thoughts.
Sevika raises her eyebrows, taking another drag from her cigarette and her eyes dropping down your body and back up again. Once. Then twice. “Hm. Wish you’d let me destroy you like that, pretty girl.”
“Wha-?" Your eyes widen. “You-"
Sevika just smirks and exhales two streams of smoke from her nose. “Bet you’d look prettier pinned under me than any of the people I fight.”
Your eyes blink rapidly, cheeks turning darker with every word. "You think I'm pretty?" You could cringe again at the question and the way your voice sounds like a squeak, but your brain is refusing to comprehend that the Sevika is flirting with you in an pitfighting arena bathroom you're not supposed to be in.
Sevika tosses the cigarette in the bathroom trash can, not even bothering to check her aim. She takes two long strides forward until she's right in front of you. She's quiet for a few moments before she lets out a hum, lips curling into an almost sinful half-smirk. "Didn't you hear what I just said?" Her large hand moves to tilt your chin up. "Or do I have to repeat myself?"
"Sevika?" her name falls out of your lips in a hushed tone, more breathy than you had meant it. Her eyes are locked with yours now, as if they're burning into your soul. But this all feels like a dream, and you're worried that at any second the lamp will start to look weird and you'll open your eyes alone in your room-
"Yeah, doll," Sevika holds your gaze, her other hand coming to rest surprisingly lightly at your waist. "What do you want, hm? You definitely don’t belong in this place. You're lucky I'm the one who found you." She lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. "Or maybe I'm the lucky one."
Your own eyes are impossibly wide - a mix of shock and arousal. "I wanted to watch your match," you say, as if it was a simple answer to all she was wondering.
Her hand on your waist tightens at that, gripping your hip. "You know, pretty girl," Sevika's dark gaze stays locked with yours. "I'm still a woman after the match. I have wants, needs, even."
"Oh," this takes you by surprise and you blink. "Uh, could I help with something then?"
"Oh, yes, I think you could" Sevika's smirk widens into a devilish grin. Her lips brush against your ear and your heart pounds. Since when did the room get this hot?
"What can I do?" Your voice shakes, your breath slightly labored at her close proximity to you.
"Mm. You could start with letting me fuck you until you can't feel it anymore."
You jaw drops and you feel your mouth go dry. It may the third time in the past five minutes that Sevika has caused you to go into complete shock, but this moment has you believing that this has to be a dream. Your eyes drop to the floor, unable to bring your wide eyes to meet Sevika's fiery ones because she's so hot and tempting and- 
As quickly as you look away, Sevika's hand on your jaw tilts it back up so your eyes meet hers again. "Did I say you could look away?" she hums, sighing with mock-disappointment. "Oh doll, you have a lot to learn."
There's a pause. "But," she says, flashing you a smirk that you really want to kiss off her face. "I need a 'yes' from you before you can help with my needs."
You nod, breathing shakily, and her smirk widens as Sevika pushes you back against the bathroom wall. And yet, you can't help but notice the way her hand cups the back of your head so it doesn't hit the cold concrete. But the gentleness is overridden by her sultry tone. "Use your words," her breath fans your lips. 
"Yes."
"So good for me," she purrs before crashing her lips on to yours, as if they had always belonged there.
If the night ends in the bathroom with Sevika muffling your whimpers into her palm before heading back to her apartment, well, you certainly aren't complaining. And by the end of it all, she's absolutely followed through on her promise of destroying you, her name the only thing on your lips for the night – and all the next morning. 
But the ache between your thighs the next day is proof enough of that. 
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solarhysm · 2 days ago
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DUST OF US - 06
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> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.
> pairing: Jungkook x reader
> genre: romance, ex to lovers au
> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!
> word count: 4.6k
*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!
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If this is a dream, Jungkook doesn’t want to wake up. His eyes never leave your face as you tell him a story about you and your friends. After that kiss, you both decided to take a walk along the shore. Jungkook knows you’ve always liked the feeling of sand under your feet, even in the cold. He carries your boots, happy to do so, while you walk beside him, occasionally digging your toes into the sand.
He thought you would reject him when he kissed you out of nowhere. But you didn’t. Now, all he wants is to kiss you again. He’s dying to. But he doesn’t want to push his luck. If you want to kiss him, you will. He hopes you will. His eyes drop to your hand, brushing against his with every step. His fingers twitch. Not yet. Play it cool.
As if reading his mind, you hand him the bottle of soju you’ve been sharing, giving him something to do with his hands. He takes a sip and nods, silently thanking you.
“And Hwan ended up covered in Hyesun’s last meal,” you laugh, but he hasn’t been paying attention to the story. Jungkook is just smiling at the sound of your laughter. “But she’s a good friend. Even after Hyesun threw up on her, she kept taking care of her.”
“You’re pretty,” Jungkook whispers, and you freeze, eyes widening.
“I—You can’t say stuff like that out of nowhere,” you mumble, looking away to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.
Jungkook has always said what’s on his mind, whether people liked it or not. And you know that. Once you’re far enough from the nightclubs and prying eyes, the two of you sit on the sand, staring at the shore.
“Alright,” you sigh, pulling a plastic bag between you. “We’ve gotta finish all of this before the sun rises.” You challenge him, and he smirks.
“Easy.”
A soft smile stretches across his lips as he watches you take out two beers and another bottle of soju. You clink your drinks together and take a sip.
“I’m surprised you didn’t make friends in Japan,” you say, breaking the silence.
“I did, actually,” Jungkook replies, burying the bottom of his beer bottle in the sand. He pulls his legs against his chest and takes a deep breath. “Kentaro is visiting me next month. If you behave, I’ll introduce him to you.”
You roll your eyes playfully, licking your lips. His big brown eyes follow the way your tongue traces your lips before he looks away. He knows you want to ask something, and he tilts his head, encouraging you.
“Stop that,” you groan, and he chuckles.
“You want to ask me about girls?”
“I never said that,” you retort, hiding behind your beer.
“You don’t need to. It’s written all over your face,” Jungkook laughs, stretching out. “What about you?”
He likes that he can still read you so easily.
“You didn’t answer,” you say, tilting your head in his direction.
“Hm... I had my fair share of girls, to be honest. But not in the first couple of years.”
“Really?”
“Hm.” He hums again. “Wait, are we talking about serious relationship?”
“All type.” You reply, leaning on your elbows.
“I had… two serious relationships. And a bunch of flings. Mostly flings actually. The heart wasn’t there for more.”
“Two?” You ask like it’s all you keep in mind.
“Yeah. You and a girl named Hina,” Jungkook nods, watching as you draw shapes in the sand. “And you?”
“No one since you. I mean, I had a few flings. And some one-night stands,” you say, and he arches a brow, surprised and amused.
“Look at that. Didn’t you become a bold one?” He jokes. “What a shame, a pretty girl like you, still single.”
“Shut up,” you chuckle, nudging his shoulder. “Maybe that’ll change. I’m sort of in a situationship right now. He wants more.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know. He’s nice.” You shrug, and Jungkook frowns.
“Nabi, don’t force yourself. I mean... who am I to give advice, right?” He laughs awkwardly before turning to look at you. “But I want you to be happy. And if you’re not sure that guy can give you what you want, don’t date him.”
“If I’m being honest...” You pause, and Jungkook gives you his full attention, sitting up straighter. “I’m scared to end up alone. I’m too... complicated. Most of the guys I had after you hated my attitude. But Baekhyun? He just embraces it. He supports me, accepts that I’m not ready to date, and waits for me.”
“That’s not enough. You shouldn’t accept the bare minimum,” Jungkook says, and you shake your head. “You deserve someone who’ll worship you.”
“Easy for you to say. Girls have been chasing you since we were teens.”
“Not the one I want,” he whispers, looking down at his beer as your eyes fall on his side profile. “you’re hard to live with, you’re stubborn with a big mouth and a taste for fights, I won’t deny that.” Jungkook teases and you slap his shoulder "But I also know that once you love, you give everything. If a man can’t get past your tough shell, he doesn’t deserve your love."
"Since when did you become a psychologist?"
"Tonight," he jokes. "Give me one more hour and a few beers, and I’ll be able to read your palm." He grins as you smile. "But I’m serious. Don’t settle for Baekhyun if you think he’s just convenient or your last option. Agreeing with everything you say? That’s not love."
You roll your eyes, making him smile wider.
"Then find me a guy who can handle me," you challenge playfully. Jungkook smirks, gesturing to himself. You laugh, shaking your head. "You should hate me."
"I don’t."
"I said you should." You lift a finger in the air, and he chuckles.
"Who’s Baekhyun, anyway?" Jungkook asks teasingly, his shoulder bumping into yours.
"You’ve met him," you muse, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "My assistant. The other tattoo artist."
"What?" Jungkook gasps playfully. "That kid? How old is he, eighteen?"
"Stop!" You laugh, punching his arm. "He’s twenty-three."
"I always knew you liked them young. I mean, I’m younger—"
"I’m older by a few weeks!"
"Cougar," Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes. He won’t lie—he’s seen Baekhyun, and something about him seemed off. Or maybe it’s just jealousy because that kid has you and he doesn’t. "Do you change his diapers, too?"
"I’m done with this conversation," you huff, turning your head away while Jungkook bursts into laughter.
"Come on, Nabi, I’m just joking."
And yet, Jungkook is wondering if that Baekhyun knows you as much as he did once upon a time. Does he know that you hate to sleep on the right side of the bed? Or how you have a hard time focusing if there’s too much people around you, how you hate wearing nails polish. Does he know how to make those pretty sounds come out of your mouth when you’re in bed? And mostly, does he know how you love and the look you used to give him? Do you give the same look to that kid?
"Do you remember the last time we were at a beach in Busan?" you ask suddenly.
"Before we left for Seoul," Jungkook says softly, his eyes falling to his hands around his beer.
"We talked about the future," you add, a small smile tugging at your lips.
"I remember." Jungkook nods, his gaze following yours to the shore. "A big house, two kids, a cat, and a dog."
"Hm." You smile, pressing your lips together. His eyes drift back to your face. "Where would we be if… we had stayed together?"
"Married, for sure," Jungkook replies, finishing his beer. "Maybe you’d be pregnant with our first baby."
The thought makes you smile, and Jungkook’s lips curl into a soft smile too. He’s imagined it so many times—how beautiful you’d look with a round belly, glowing with happiness.
"Or maybe we’d be right where we are now," you say, taking a sip of your drink. "Maybe we were meant to be apart."
"I don’t believe that," Jungkook says, almost too quickly. "Our story wasn’t over."
"What makes you so sure?" you ask, arching a brow and Jungkook clenches his jaw, turning his attention to you.
"I didn’t fight for us because you disappeared that day. But I wanted to," he admits, and you chuckle bitterly.
"That’s why I disappeared." You shrug like it’s nothing. "I knew if I saw you again, you’d try to fix things, and I’d give in."
"That’s why you just… left our apartment and changed your number?" he frowns, and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek. He hates how casually you say it, like it didn’t tear him apart.
He hated that place without you in it. He hated that your left side of the bed still smelled like you even after he changed the sheets, how he could still hear you humming in the kitchen like you were cooking for both or how the couch felt cold without you cuddling against him during your movie nights.
"Do you even know… how it felt to come home and find our place half-empty?”  He starts before hardly swallowing. “How I had to sleep in a bed that still smelled like you for weeks before I gave the keys back to the landlord? Fuck, Nabi… Do you have any idea how hard it was to live without you when I was so used to having you around all the time?" Jungkook shakes his head, hiding his face in his hands. "I thought it was the end of the world."
His admission makes you blink a few times as you look down, and Jungkook suddenly feels guilty when he sees you wiping your cheek.
“I’m sorry.” You say with a little voice. “I’m sorry…I – I thought you’d be better off without me."
“Says who?” He frowns, upset, shaking his head. “I was better with you.”
"I didn’t want to leave you," you admit before your emotions overwhelm you, and tears spill from your eyes, making Jungkook freeze. What is he supposed to do now? He didn’t mean to make you cry. He just wanted to have a good evening with you, but now you’re sobbing. What an idiot. "I never wanted to leave you."
"Y/N…"
 “I –“ You swallow a sob. “I did it for you.” You shake your head and he frowns a little while you wipe your cheeks and take a deep breath.
"How… breaking up with me…?" Jungkook whispers, unable to finish his sentence.
He hates seeing you cry, but he knows that if he tries to comfort you, you would just push him away.
“I…I tried to help you.” You pinch your lips together. “That university in Tokyo accepted you. You were going to waste that opportunity just to stay with me."
Jungkook’s frown deepens. He never told you he was going to turn down the offer in Tokyo. And like you read his mind you let out a watery chuckle.
“I heard your conversation with Jimin.” you explain, and Jungkook freezes, a wave of anger rising inside him. “I couldn’t let you refuse that to work as a simple cashier, Kook. I couldn’t let you waste your life for me.”
Jungkook lets out a sour chuckle before getting up, his fists clenched at his sides. All this time, he thought that he did something wrong. All this time he thought that you left him because he said something that hurt you enough to breaking up with him.
“And who are you to decide for me?” He almost spits as you stay sitting on the sand, looking at him. “We were a team, remember? We were supposed to talk about it. Make it work!”
“Jungkook.” You say softly, getting on your knees but he takes a step back.
"All this time…" he mutters, shaking his head as a sob escapes. "Fuck... All this time, I thought it was my fault."
"I’m sorry."
"Sorry won’t fix seven wasted years!" he barks, and you struggle to get up, both of you drunk.
"Kook…"
"No." He shakes his head, wiping his face. "I fucking loved you with everything I had. I wanted to spend my life with you, build a future with you. If you had just talked to me, we could’ve made it work! You were the only one I ever listened to."
“Jungkook.” You repeat as you try to reach his hand but he takes another step back. “How was that supposed to work?” You frown and he rolls his eyes, looking away. “You were about to live new experiences. I would’ve been the girlfriend stuck in your hometown. How long would it have taken before you left me?"
"Don’t twist this into being my fault, Y/N," he warns, jaw clenched. "The distance, the new experiences—that’s bullshit, and you know it."
“I know that you needed your freedom.” You bite back and his teeth close on his tongue to not say something hurtful. “That’s why I didn’t want to reconnect with you. I knew how all of this would end.” You mumble, gathering your stuff and he can clearly see how hurt you are.
“I needed you.” He says more softly, but you don’t listen, tying your hair into a ponytail before catching your witch hat. “Nabi.” He stops you, standing right behind you.
"I get it, Jungkook. I do," you say without looking at him, trying to hold back tears, but he can hear the quiver in your voice. You're close to breaking.
“Nabi.” He repeats as you stand up, your hands full of your things.
"I never asked you to come back into my life," you snap, finally turning to face him, shaking your head. "I never asked you to kiss me earlier. I think it’s time to say goodbye for good."
"No." Jungkook's voice is firm as his fingers close around your arm. Even when you try to pull away, his grip tightens. “I won’t let that happen.”
You let out a dry chuckle, turning to face him, both of you frowning.
"You must be pretty stupid to still want me," you say, trying to swat his hand away, but he pulls you closer instead.
"I know what you’re doing. You’re being mean to protect yourself. It won’t work. We’re going to talk." His voice rises a little. "You always run when things get complicated. Not this time."
"Let me go, Jungkook."
"Not before we figure this out."
"There’s nothing to figure out!" you bark, but he only pulls you closer, his hand firm on your arm.
"Talk to me, Y/N," he says, his voice louder than yours now.
"I did! And you got mad at me!" You groan, feeling your frustration grow. He takes a deep breath, softening his features.
"It’s not too late."
"What?!"
"Us. It’s not too late," Jungkook whispers, and you stare at him, blinking in disbelief. "Yes, I’m upset with you. But that’s because I know... I know we could have made this work."
"How?" you ask, your tone softer now, no longer fighting him off.
"I could have… taken the ferry to see you during my holidays. You could’ve visited me. There’s always a solution, Nabi." He tilts his head, trying to meet your gaze.
"You were free," you reply, and he shakes his head.
"I didn’t want that," Jungkook chuckles sadly, finally letting go of your arm. "If you really want to leave, then go. I won’t stop you anymore, Nabi."
He looks at you as none of you break the eye contact. Will you leave? He doesn’t want to force you to anything. But you don’t move. And he hopes that you’re not playing him.
"Fuck," he laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. "You’re the only woman who can shatter me, and I’ll still come running after you."
"I thought I was helping you," you murmur, biting your tongue, looking down at your feet. "I didn’t want to leave. I..." Your voice breaks, and you begin to sob. "I didn’t want to hurt you."
Jungkook stays silent, his fists clenching at his sides to stop himself from pulling you into his arms. God, he wants to. He needs to comfort you, but he knows you’ll push him away.
"I put my own feelings aside to let you live your dream," you sniff, hiding your face in your hands. Jungkook’s vision blurs as his eyes fill with unshed tears.
"I was going to ask you to marry me," Jungkook whispers, followed by an awkward chuckle. When you lift your tear-filled eyes to meet his, he shrugs. "The day you left me... I was going to ask you to be my wife."
And it’s too much to bear. You break in tears as he looks away, wiping his cheek. He hates seeing you cry. He hates being unable to comfort you like he used to.
“I didn’t plan to see you again when I came back. I was scared to find out you were happily married to someone who wasn’t me.” He continues, eyes fixed on an empty soju bottle half-buried in the sand. “But I saw you at Hyesun’s wedding and… fuck, you were so pretty.”
“Stop.” You shake your head, taking a step back because it’s probably too much to hear but he takes a deep breath and close the distance.
"I knew I had to try, Nabi," he says, cupping your face in his hands. "Because there’s no one else for me but you."
"Jungkook," you protest weakly, trying to push him away half-heartedly.
"Stop fighting it," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. "Tell me you want this too."
"I…” You start but Jungkook muffles your next words with a kiss.
He isn’t trying to force you, but when you kiss him back, he pulls you closer. The kiss tastes of salt, from your tears and his. Jungkook has kissed many girls after you, but none of them ever made him feel like this. He softly nips at your bottom lip, creating a gap to slide his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. It’s a passionate kiss, desperate. He wants you to feel how much he needs you. When you relax into him, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer, he smiles against your mouth. But when the need for air becomes overwhelming, he reluctantly pulls back, his nose nuzzling against yours.
"Stay with me tonight. Don’t go home," he murmurs, gently wiping the remnants of your tears from your cheeks.
When you nod, his smile widens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, his nose buried in your hair. He missed your warmth. He missed how right it felt to have you in his arms. He doesn’t know how long you stayed like that, but when the cold started to bite at your skin, he pulled back. Grabbing both of your things, he offered his hand to you, which you shyly took. He couldn’t hide his excitement at the thought of keeping you with him tonight.
"You’re not walking straight," you chuckle as you make your way to his hotel.
"I’m drunk, Nabi. Sue me," he jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours as he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours.
Jungkook didn’t rush you once you were in his room. He handed you a fresh pair of joggers and one of his shirts while he waited, sneaking glances at the bathroom door. He even turned off his phone to make sure nothing interrupted your time together. When you came out of the bathroom, he smirked. He had gotten bigger since the last time you borrowed his clothes, and now you looked like a kid in oversized clothing. He found it adorable.
“What?” you ask looking down at your outfit, straightening your shirt –well, his.
"Nothing," he shrugs, still smirking.
Your nose is still slightly rosy from crying earlier, but somehow, it adds to your charm, Jungkook thinks. He gets up and grabs his clothes from the sofa, heading to the bathroom.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says softly as he walks past you.
Jungkook needs to calm down. He closes the bathroom door and takes a deep breath before jumping in place with excitement. He takes off his shirt and turns to the mirror, grinning at his reflection.
Alright. Breathe. Play it cool. She’s the same, Jungkook.
He pinches his lips together to stop himself from smiling too widely. He feels like he’s seventeen again, on his first date with you. He never thought you’d let him spend more time with you, let alone kiss you like that. He takes another deep breath and looks down at his pants.
“Don’t embarrass me,” he murmurs to himself before turning on the water, excited to join you again, to hold you in his arms.
When he steps out of the bathroom, his damp hair falling over his forehead and neck, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on your phone.
“Are you hungry? We can order something to eat,” Jungkook suggests, closing the distance between you.
“No,” you say, locking your phone and tossing it on the bed. “But if you are, you can—”
“I’m not hungry,” Jungkook cuts in, putting his hands on his hips.
Both of you stare at each other in silence. It’s awkward, and neither of you knows what to say. Jungkook clears his throat nervously, and you giggle when he hums a tune, making him frown slightly and turn to you. Then, out of nowhere, you burst into laughter, falling back onto the bed, your hands on your stomach.
“What’s so funny, huh?” He smiles, amused, as you cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head.
“Sorry,” you giggle, trying to calm yourself. “It’s just weird. What are we, sixteen? Why are you so nervous?”
Your laughter makes his smile grow as he cages you with his arms, placing both hands on either side of your body.
“You’re mocking me, seriously, Nabi?” he teases with a grin as you sit up, shaking your head.
“Sorry, sorry,” you say, pressing your lips together to stop smiling, then lift your eyes to meet his.
Jungkook’s eyes widen when your puppy-like gaze locks with his. He swallows, leaning closer, dying to kiss you, but he doesn’t want to push it. You smile at his nervousness, and he knows you can read his thoughts—just like you always did. For the first time, you close the distance and press your lips to his.
The only contact is your mouths. His fists grip the sheets on either side of you, trying to resist the urge to touch you more. But your hands trail up his arms to cup his face, pulling him closer. His resolve crumbles the moment your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling him down onto the bed with you. He hovers over you, careful not to crush you, one leg between yours as his hands trace the curves of your waist, still over his shirt.
“I’m not made of dust, I won’t crumble and disappear if you touch me.” You laugh against his mouth and he hums shyly.
“I’m not scared of that,” he whispers, trailing kisses along your jaw, his fingers squeezing your hips. “I just... don’t want to get too comfortable and wake up.”
“I’m real,” you reassure him, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck, where he continues to kiss and nip at your skin.
But something feels wrong to him—the way you kiss him hungrily while he kisses you back, passionate yet hesitant. Then it hits him.
“Nabi,” Jungkook murmurs as you continue to kiss his neck and shoulder, your fingers guiding his hand deeper into your joggers. “Y/N.”
“What?” you ask breathlessly, licking your lips as he straightens up, pulling his hand away from your pants.
“I don’t want to have sex with you like a cheap one-night stand,” Jungkook replies, sitting back on his knees and running a hand through his hair.
“What are you talking about?” you frown, leaning on your elbows. “You... don’t want me?”
“Of course I do,” he says, shaking his head. “But you’re acting like I’m just some random guy from a bar.”
You frown, sitting up. He’s afraid he said something wrong.
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” Jungkook sighs. “Fuck... Do you really want me, or are you just horny and I’m the only guy around?”
“Jungkook.” You say, your eyes soften as you cup his face, seeing the hurt on his face. “You’ll never be just convenient for me.”
He takes a deep breath, his tongue poking at his cheek. He wants to believe you. And fuck, if you told him the sky was pink, he’d believe you.
“We can just cuddle and talk if you want,” you suggest, and Jungkook smiles, nodding.
He knew about all the men in your life before you ever told him—Jimin had filled him in. Everyone knows you use physical intimacy to fill the void, and part of him feels responsible. If he had fought harder for you, maybe you wouldn’t have that endless list of guys.
“You’re not them,” you whisper as he pulls you close in bed, your head resting on his arm.
“I know. I was the first,” he teases with a smirk, and you roll your eyes, playfully slapping his chest. He laughs softly, taking your hand and holding it over his heart, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Go on a date with me,” Jungkook says, your noses brushing against each other. “A real one. Not this ‘friendly date’ bullshit.”
“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” you chuckle as he smiles and kisses the tip of your nose.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jungkook grins, his fingers softly rubbing the back of your hand. “We’ll grab some food and go to the beach tomorrow.”
“We came to see our families,” you remind him with a raised brow.
“I’ll see them after the date.”
Jungkook doesn’t know how long the two of you stay in bed, talking about everything. The sun starts to rise as you fall asleep, your face resting on his shoulder while he plays with your hair. He didn’t like them short at first, but he’s gotten used to it and actually thinks that it suits you now. But for him, you look pretty anyways. He keeps you close against his body, his arms locked around you to be sure that you won’t slip. Brushing his nose against your hair, he takes the time to enjoy your scent. Your perfume is slightly different from the fruity one you had when you two were together. This one is more feminine, more mature. And he likes it.
And when he wakes up later, he still finds you nestled against him, your back pressed against his chest. For a good minute, he has to pinch himself, convinced this is a dream. It feels too right to be real, having you here with him.
Jungkook carefully disentangles himself from you and sits up. His mouth is dry, and he needs to check his phone. After taking his time in the bathroom, he smiles when he sees you still sleeping, cuddling one of the pillows. He sits on the edge of the bed and turns on his phone, immediately bombarded by notifications.
Ignoring most of them, he opens his conversation with Jimin and sends him a message. Jimin knew about his plan all along and asked him to keep him updated. Jungkook types out everything he remembers from the night before—how you fell asleep in his arms, how happy he is. He smiles like a teenager as he types, and Jimin replies almost instantly, saying he’s happy for him. But then the next message makes Jungkook’s smile drop.
FROM: Jiminie
Did you tell her about Hina?
Jungkook sighs, rubbing his face. His fingers hover over the keyboard before he finally types a reply. He had been so focused on you that he forgot about her.
TO: Jiminie
It’s too soon. I just got her back. Let me enjoy this.
Jimin’s answer comes almost immediately and Jungkook groans, frustrated because he knows that his friend is right. His eyes fall back on your sleeping form. You’re going to hate him. He needs to figure out how to handle this little – big- problem. Jungkook knows where his heart is, and it’s right here, with the woman peacefully sleeping in his bed.
FROM: Jiminie
I understand. But you need to tell her before she hears it from someone else. Nabi has the right to know about your fiancée.
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YOU CAN ALREADY READ THE CHAPTER 07 ON KO-FI.
< previous - MASTERLIST - next >
WATTPAD.
KO-FI. (every chapters/drabbles are posted as soon as i'm done writing them.)
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whoops-all-jennas · 3 days ago
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Every Universe - w.a.
Wednesday x witch!reader
"Do you think we're friends in every universe?"
"I hope so."
Summary: You and Wednesday are walking to Jericho after Wednesday had her vision in the meeting house. You have a question for Wednesday which gets her stuck in thought.
Past Lives one-shot
a/n: might have somethings that don't make sense if you haven't read 'We'll Meet Again' or 'Past Lives' but most of this doesn't need that context.
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My boots squish into the mud of the dirt path, the rain just stopping a moment ago. Your shoes follow the pace of mine, meeting the same muddy fate.
There is a comfortable silence between us. We never had to try to force conversation, satisfied with merely the presence of one another.
"This is a stupid thought." You begin talking over the occasional patter of water dripping off the leaves. "Do you think we're friends in every universe?"
I stop in place, my boots sinking deeper into the mud. You halt beside me, finding my eyes with yours.
"Like, maybe we're Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." You say with a smile, looking into my eyes as I respond with silence.
You look at the ground with an embarrassed smile as you continue walking. "I told you it was a stupid thought."
You walk ahead of me for a moment, the squish of muddy footsteps filling the woods.
I find myself stuck in place, as if the mud was holding me. The only thing I can think about is that red string.
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I find myself smiling as you pull the lever on the blue slushie machine for me. "Tell me when." You say with a smile.
You stop before the blue ice overflows out of the cup. "I didn't say when!" I say, teasingly.
"It was going to spill over, Vada." You grab another cup, holding it under your favorite flavor before looking at me with an expecting glance.
I pull the lever, the colored ice filling the cup.
"When." You say, a playful smile creeps up on my lips as I don't let go.
"Stop!" You playful shout, pulling the cup out of the way as it overflows.
"Vada!" I can't help but giggle as you grab a bunch of napkins to clean your cup.
We're both walking down the street, the lights illuminating our dark path. I hold a grocery bag of sweets and other snacks in hand, my slushie in the other.
I glance at you as I loudly sip from my cup. You're staring at yours, lost in thought with a smile on your face.
"Do you think we get to do stuff like this is every universe?" You say quietly.
I stare at you for a moment, admiring your cute sentiment.
"Of course!" I say with a wide smile.
You raise your eyes from your cup, finding mine as you return the smile.
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I'm reading your poem silently as you stand in front of me awkwardly. The warm lights of my bedroom creating the perfect cozy aesthetic.
Your poem clearly follows the idea of two souls destined to be together, no matter what.
I look at you above the paper after I've finished reading, unsure what to do or say.
"So, what do you think Cairo?" You ask, curiously.
I take a deep breath. "I'm not a big fan of the idea of soulmates."
You look at me confused. "What do you mean?"
I stand before sitting next to you in my bed. "Soulmates are destined." I say, holding my eyes onto yours.
"The idea of destined connection dilutes the experience of love." I inch closer, putting my hand on your bare thigh.
"I prefer the idea that we're together because we choose to be, our souls breaking the quantum chains that bind us apart just for a chance to feel each other's touch a moment longer."
You shiver as I caress your thigh. "The feeling of you forever lingering on my skin, itching for just one second longer, as if that would be enough to satiate my hunger."
You're eyes look through mine with infatuation, my 'fancy words' as you would call it always had this effect on you. I move my hand up to your cheek, looking into your eyes lovingly. "Our determination for just that one mere second guiding us in every universe. Even if fate defies us, we would rather die trying than to spare another moment apart."
I slowly bring my face closer to yours, feeling your unsteady breath on me as I glance at your perfect lips. "I would choose you in every universe. Not because we're destined to be, but because there is no one else I'd rather have."
You grab my face, pulling your lips to mine hungrily. Your arms move down, wrapping around my neck as you pull me down to lay on top of you. As our lips touch, I ingrain the feeling permanently into my mind.
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I murmur awake to the sound of a heartbeat monitor. The pain of all my wounds from the Ghostface attack quickly settling in as I open my eyes.
I feel another sensation, the feeling of your hand in mine. After I recognize this feeling it's as if all my pain fades away.
My eyelids finally finish prying themselves apart to find you asleep by my hospital bed, hunched over in a chair. Even as you sleep, you tightly grip my hand, as if you're you're afraid you'll let go.
I find myself smiling, admiring you at my bedside. I squeeze your hand in an attempt to wake you.
You squirm a bit in your seat, your grip tight as ever.
Your eyes open, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights.
"Tara!" You jump awake, a noticable weight off you after you see my smile.
Your grip loosens for a moment before squeezing my hand once again. "I uh- How're you feeling?"
My smile widens under the mere presence of you. "Better now."
You place your other hand over mine, caressing my knuckles lovingly. "I'm not leaving this hospital unless you're leaving with me."
I find myself lost in your hands, watching your thumb gently move between my knuckles as if I could break if not handled with care. I always loved how gentle you were with me. You manage to make me feel like a beautiful flower, scared to damage my petals and stem that I only see as a part of me, but you see it as so much more.
"I hope you're there for me in every universe." I say, looking up from your gentle hands to your eyes. "I don't know how well I would have handled this on my own."
The heartbeat monitor fills the momentary silence between us, words forming in your thoughts.
"I know I'm there for you in every universe, the same way you're there for me." You look into my eyes as if they were windows, your emotions passing through with ease.
I focus on the caring sensation of your touch, allowing your love into the windows to my soul.
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I look back on the vision of our past selves I had in the meeting house, feeling the red string that binds us inside me.
"Wednesday?" You ask, stopped ahead of me.
I pry my boots out of the mud, the deepest it sunk into the ground. My squishy footsteps fill the woods as I catch up to be by your side.
"I believe we're together in every universe, whether it's because we found each, or because we choose to." I say, attempting to hide the emotion that so strongly desired to be on stage.
A genuine smile replaces the embarrassment on your face before turning to continue walking, our comfortable silence resuming as we head back to Jericho.
a/n: heyy hope you enjoyed this super short thingie. I plan on making more past lives one-shots before s2 of Wednesday releases. feel free to request ideas for that :))
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glossykissies · 4 hours ago
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clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.
love you so much on both blogs!
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i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.
you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.
you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.
“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.
“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”
“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”
you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”
“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”
clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.
he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.
“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.
“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.
“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.
“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.
“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.
“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”
“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”
clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.
you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.
you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.
“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.
“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.
“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”
“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”
“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.
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crispycoffeestudent · 20 hours ago
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'there are more good ones out here than you think' imagine being a radfem, calling yourself a radfem and saying that to another woman. the fact of the matter is - theonceandfutureharpy is right. there's simply not enough 'good men' or 'good ones' for every radfem interested in, or currently in relationships. not enough for all of them to be right. and to copy and paste something i sent to a friend a day ago 'if you're going to date men, you truly need to be able to leave at first sign of trouble however minor that red flag might be but no one who's genuinely in love with someone else will be able to do that. you will at the end of the day once attached, attempt to make excuses for seemingly minor and trivial red flags that all point to a larger problem with the man himself, and even if even if he doesn't turn out to be the societal image of an abuser, he can and often is still abusive. i feel like some women truly believe that the patriarchy is abstract only when it comes to their relationship with men and underestimate how much THEY themselves are affected by it. I feel bad for radfems who date men because ... how much of your time will be spent vetting, how often can you afford to be on the look out, how likely are you to upend an entire relationship of idk however many long years when the cracks finally start to show? how likely are you, when deeply in love w someone, able to leave immediately, no hesitation, when he starts gently wheedling you into sex? for that to be possible, there are limits to how deep your connection w him can be, and i think on some level, they realize this.' and to copy what she said 'Everybody thinks they can leave an abuser, but everybody's just thinking of an abuser. Nobody's thinking of who the abuser is, the role they play in their life, and how they feel about the abuser. And dependence is never accounted for, either. What happens when he has successfully isolated you? Either by turning you against people or by turning people against you. Who are you going to call, who are you going to stay with. What happens when he gets you fired from your job? Now you're financially dependent on him, too, because you have nobody else to go to. How people can get in so deep and still believe they have the upper hand will never cease to amaze me.' being in relationships with men is dangerous and puts you in direct risk of male violence. i don't see how you can acknowledge that men commit 90 percent of violent crime, that anywhere from 27-57 percent of men have perpetuated sexual violence against women (self reported btw), that a study in the 90s found that all male and female relationships it studied was abusive at some level (Graham, Foliano) and witness the rise of pornography, and the sheer number of men addicted to that stuff where sexual violence is in the sexual script of porn itself, willing to defend it with their life, and have the audacity and the fucking NERVE to say that there are more good ones that we think. date the men you like but don't come into radical feminist spaces and LIE to us or derail the conversation when we're talking about how men are the oppressors. It's not luck to find a man genuinely devoid of misogyny or willing always to take accountability and catch himself and call the men around him out when he or they are being misogynistic. It's the fucking lottery. And sorry to say but most of y'alls Jakeys are simply not Like That.
Getting into a straight healthy relationship with a man IS a part of radfem agenda, believe it or not. It means you actually expect the world to listen to your values and ideas and change accordingly. It means those of us who are not gay or bisexual will struggle less, and will be in less danger when seeking companionship. If you prefer separation or black pill it's fine, but it simply cannot apply to everyone - unlike the radical feminist beliefs against sexism.
🦥
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lostintransist · 3 days ago
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The Boys' Home | Part 5
Part 1 | AO3
The suit, respirator, goggles, gloves combo had you sweating like the devil in church. This wouldn’t necessarily be a problem, except your in-ear headphones were overheating and not responding to your taps to change the song. Somehow you had been stuck on the same song for damn near forty minutes. It was a good song, don’t get it twisted, but if it didn’t require leaving the house and pulling off all the gear to change the song you would have done it on the third repeat.
With the last of the lathe and plaster removed and swept from the room, you detach the chute from the window. Carefully you strip off the protective gear, clothes soaked with sweat beneath them. The next thing you do is pull your headphones out and pause your music. Sliding between the layers of plastic keeping the dust from invading the house you make your way outside to breathe fresh air.
The boys were all at Lydia Fisher’s house as her grandchildren had finally arrived for the summer stay. You had already confirmed with Lydia that the pizza delivery you were paying for would arrive at five and she would send the boys home at seven. They would absolutely all need a bath before bed.
When you open the front door all of your focus is on laying out the gear to dry over the porch railing. The respirator and the goggles go down easily, the suit gives a wet sound when you snap it to straighten out all the wrinkles. That done you look up and nearly have a heart attack.
“Jesus and a chicken!” Your hand ends up on your chest as you heave in breaths.
Where you had expected empty space stood three of your neighbors, all watching you with various expressions of quandary.
“Why a chicken?” Kyle asked as he shoved one hand into his pocket.
Your brows pull together. “I don’t know, that is what came out of my mouth in a moment of shock.”
He gives a look of acknowledgment and glances at his counterparts.
“Did you guys need something? I’ve been upstairs stripping a bedroom to get insulation and new walls put up.” You brush your hands down your shirt, now quite aware that even in the moist heat your pits, under boob, and groin had yet to dry.
“Wanted to see if there were any neighborhood events we should be aware of,” Johnny spoke up, moseying up to the porch railing and hanging over it to talk to you.
You leaned against the main post, folding your arms as you thought.
“Nothing formal, but every third weekend a few families get together over at my place and we grill and let the kids run wild.” You direct your answers to the group but look mostly at Johnny.
Simon and Kyle step closer, like wolves you had watched on nature documentaries. When they close in you snap your gaze to Kyle and then to Simon. It gets trapped on Simon, the dark pitch of his eyes pulling you in like tar that swallowed ice-age animals whole.
“You need anything, bonnie?”
The hum of question you give is distracted. Turning your face away from Simon, it takes extra effort to drag your gaze to Johnny. Blinking a few times to clear your mind you process what you heard.
“Mmm, don’t think so. Unless you guys can sheet rock and mud a bedroom in under a day?”
Johnny grinned and Kyle chuckled, Simon let out a small huff that could be construed as a laugh.
“Can’t say we know how yet, but we will by the time we are done fixing up our own house,” Kyle smirks up at you.
“Been meaning to ask you about that. Are you all together or just really good friends?” They share a look and you go on, bulldozing past any awkwardness creeping up your body like kudzu. “I only ask because folks around here will talk and if I can head off the rumors your time here will be easier. Lord only knows why I’m their favorite subject.”
“Na, we work together. Military stuff and we find it easier to feel safe when we know there is someone who can watch our back as we rest,” Johnny gives a small smile to the gaps between the porch slats.
Nodding as if you understand, you most assuredly do not, you tuck that information away for your next run-in with any of the town gossips, Cherrie and Marline. They would be after you like hens after a chick when they found out you were now living next door two four presumably eligible, and decidedly, attractive bachelors.
‘What about your everlasting soul? Living so close to such men might tempt you into sin.’ They would always whisper the word sin as if one woman’s boy hadn’t been born out of wedlock and the other hadn’t been caught having an affair ten years back. One of these days you would remind the two of them of what Jesus actually called a sin, and it wasn’t ‘treating your neighbor as yourself’.
“Where are your boys today?” Simon speaks up now, everyone turning to look at him as he stares straight at you.
“They are at the Fisher’s. Lydia’s grandchildren have arrived and we have a standing agreement to timeshare the children until school starts back up,” you grin wide thinking about your boys. “I don’t know if you’ve met them yet, they live in the opposite direction from my house.”
Your former pastor had commented on it once. You didn’t go to church anymore, for too many damn reasons to recall or recount but Pastor Harry had been a good man and reminded you that there were people in the world who practiced what they preached.
“I know you never wanted to be a mom, but those boys? I can see the love you have for them written all over your face when you talk about them. I’m real proud of you for taking them in and fighting for them,” he laid a hand on your shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
The quiet comfort and confidence Pastor Harry had given you that day had fueled you for weeks and helped you swat away the nastier comments lobbed your way from parents of your students, the administration, and even the cashier at the local stop and rob.
Looking back to the men standing in the heat of the day you make a decision.
“Why don’t y’all take a seat and I’ll grab us all some sweet tea and ice pops.” Turning around without waiting for an answer you let the screen door slam shut behind you.
When you return the only seat available is next to Simon on the porch swing. Passing each man a refreshment you settle into the cushion and try to toe the swing into motion. When nothing happens you glance at Simon who is staring at your nice glass with something akin to mistrust in his eyes.
“You don’t have to drink it but can you at least lift your feet so I can rock the swing?” The single brow lift seems to do the trick.
“This is delicious!” Johnny cries as he stares down at his glass. “Never got the appeal of hot tea but this? I will miss this when we go back to work.”
The swing begins a soft back-and-forth movement. Glancing down you see Simon’s boot flat on the porch; his thigh bunches and releases in time with the movement.
“What do you think Kyle?” Sipping at your own tea you watch him for an answer.
“Might need this recipe for my mum, to be frank.” He looks down at his glass with a mixture of pleased concern written across his face.
“Be happy to send you with a recipe card.” You can’t wipe the smile from your face. Your front porch didn’t get as much use as you would like, they were the first visitors to use it this year.
Kyle and Johnny chat with you for nearly a half hour before by the winding down of the conversation the men stand in tandem. They all trail into the house to deposit their glasses in the sink before saying their goodbyes and rounding the house for the trail that would lead them back to their own home.
Placing your cup in the sink next to theirs you are surprised to see three empty glasses and a bone-dry sink. Seems the quiet man had sipped at his drink after all.
You would need to be sure to offer it again. Best to be sure if he liked it or if his mother had taught him it would be rude to reject an offer of a refreshment. Neither said anything bad about a person but it would help future interactions to know what your neighbors liked.
Boys Masterlist | Masterlist
@leahnicole1219 @harperstyles @sigynxlokiwifelover @fluffysmiko
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writerinlearning · 2 days ago
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𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞
plot: henry hart has a crush on his best friend and doesn’t know what to do with his feelings. an unfortunate mishap and a little nudge from team danger might just change that.
pairing: henry hart x fem!reader
show: henry danger
warnings: none that i can think of.
word count: 7,2k
author’s notes: english isn’t my first language, apologies for any mistakes. it's been proof-read, so there shouldn't be many mistakes anyway. it’s heavily inspired by the episode cave the date from season five of henry danger, so most of the dialogues and the story is most likely to be very familiar to y’all. it does go canon-divergent by the end though, and of course it’s reader instead of charlotte. this ended up being longer than i thought it would be. i hope you enjoy!
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It’s the perfect day, a quiet one the Danger team hasn’t had in a long time. Between all the petty crimes and the more serious villains who wanted to end Captain Man and Kid Danger, Y/N doesn’t remember the last time they could all just hang out in the Man Cave, undisturbed. She sighs contentedly, flipping a page of the book she’s reading, leaning further into the couch. Schwoz sits next to her, concentrating over a game of chess he’s having against himself, for some reason. Charlotte is nearby too, sitting on the chair at the supercomputer and reading her own book about “nuclear physics for smarties”.
“I will not see that coming.” Schwoz mutters to himself through the silence in the room. “I did not see that coming!” He adds, spitting out the water in his mouth after turning the chess board around.
“Do you ever get bored of playing chess against yourself?” Charlotte asks him, placing her book on the console before her.
“No, I don’t.” A pause. “But sometimes, I do.”
Y/N snorts at Schwoz’s antics. Her text ringtone rips through the silence, followed by a groan rumbling from her chest. She checks her screen, rolling her eyes when she sees the text notification from Jasper, and she looks at Charlotte with brows furrowed in annoyance as she closes her book and puts it down on the table before her.
“The guys are coming back.”
“Give me your book.” Charlotte tells her, extending her hand out.
“Why?” Y/N asks her, raising a brow. “I haven’t finished reading it, and I need to know what happens between Sel and Bree.”
“Just– give me your book.”
“H– hey! hey! hey! Char! Why’d you do that?”
Y/N screams, watching in horror as Charlotte moves from her spot on the chair to grab Y/N’s beloved copy of Legendborn by Tracy Deonn, putting it into a shredding machine and destroying it in the process. Charlotte then does the same thing with her own book.
“Ray gets mad whenever people do ‘smart stuff’ in front of him.” Charlotte explains, putting her hands on her hips. “You should know that, Y/N, you’ve been here the last two years. Schwoz, give me the chess board.”
“But I’ve got myself right where I want me!” The science man protests.
“You’ll get yourself next time.”
Schwoz grumbles, reluctantly handing his chess board and chess pieces to Charlotte who proceeds to throw them into the shredding machine. It makes a strange noise and Y/N winces at the sound, closing her eyes when the grinding noise finally stops.
“Where were they anyway?” Charlotte asks, sitting back on the chair behind the supercomputer.
“They went to throw melons at that abandoned house that people throw melons at.” Y/N shrugs.
“Without me?” Schwoz chirps in. “But I’ve been saving melons for months.” He adds as he glances to his box of rotten melons that’s been laying next to the supercomputer for nearly two months.
“So, they should be back soon, right?” Charlotte wonders.
“Yeah,” Y/N nods. “I just asked them to swing by my house and pick up my phone charger on the way back.”
Schwoz snorts. “You sent Ray, Henry, and Jasper to your house with no adult supervision?”
“Yeah, what’s the problem?”
Just then, the elevator doors ding open and out step the three men they were just talking about, in what seems to be a really serious discussion about Disney movies. All three of them have dishevelled hair, as if they’d just run a marathon, but the ashes smeared across their face and stuck to their clothes and hair give way to an entirely different story.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa…” Y/N interrupts them, standing up from the couch as she takes in their appearance.
“Hey.” Jasper greets her. “What’s up?”
“What have you guys been doing?”
“Hmm?” Henry chimes in.
“What have you guys been doing?” Y/N repeats herself, hands going to her hips as she raises a brow. “Did you go to my house?”
“Sure did.” Henry replies.
“Oh yeah.” Ray continues.
“Walked right in.” Jasper finishes, smiling proudly.
Y/N looks over her shoulder to Charlotte, brows pulled together in a confused frown. They both have the same questions running through their mind. Why were the boys all dirty with dark ashes, and why were they acting so innocent all of the sudden. Innocent, and clueless.
“So… what happened?” Charlotte asks then, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Weee got Y/N’s phone charger.”
Henry trails out, throwing the phone cable in Y/N’s hands but she drops it almost immediately, squealing out in surprise.
“Aaahh! Why is it hot?!”
“Because we pulled it out of the fire.” Jasper answers her.
“You are welcome.” Ray adds. “Hit the showers.” He finishes, out of the blue.
The boys whoop, starting to head for the showers when Y/N stops them again. Charlotte and Schwoz watch in amusement, seeing them rolling their eyes and groaning under their breath.
“Whaaaaaaat?!” Henry drags out.
“I told you she’d be like this.” Ray whines, motioning towards Y/N. “What did I say?”
“Yeah, I owe you ten bucks.” Jasper says, defeated.
“Did you guys light my house on fire?!” Y/N questions, panic in her voice.
“No, no, no, no…” Henry stutters. “ ‘Course not.”
Y/N glares at him, her eyes growing darker than he’s ever seen before. Okay, maybe Henry had underestimated his best friend’s anger, but to be fair, it wasn’t his fault they’d set a fire in her house. Still, he shoves his hands in the front pockets of his pants, casting his gaze to the floor to avoid looking directly into her eyes. He begins to balance himself on his heels, racking his brain for the right words to say as he bites down on the inside of his cheek. He inhales slowly through his nose and finally, he looks up to her. He sees the expectation in her eyes, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer. Henry swallows the growing lump in his throat; he hates to see her mad at him, when he knows she rarely ever gets mad at anyone. He knows her anger is not only directed at him, but at Ray and Jasper too, and yet he still takes it personally. He doesn’t know why he does, but his chest tightens when he replays the events from earlier, and the guilt settles in the back of his brain. He lowers his gaze again, his feet suddenly becoming more interesting than anything.
“I– I mean… y– yeah.” Henry admits, stuttering.
“Just the kitchen.” Jasper clarifies.
“The kitchen is part of the house.” Y/N deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest.
“The kitchen’s gone. It’s gone.” Jasper blurts out. 
“The rest of your house… totally fine.” Ray adds, clapping his hands together.
“Y– yeah.” Henry finishes.
“How could you guys light my kitchen on fire?!”
Y/N asks them, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation before her eyes fall back to the three men, glaring at them. By then, Charlotte has joined Schwoz on the couch in the centre of the Man Cave, as if they were watching the most interesting movie ever made. Charlotte knows her friend, and judging by how fuming she is about the whole situation, she knows it won’t end well for the boys. 
Henry still can’t bring himself to look at Y/N, but he can imagine the hurt and confusion written all over her face. He’s known her for as long as he’s known Charlotte and Jasper; it’s always been the four of them. They can read each other like open books. 
Jasper flinches when Y/N raises her voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her raise her voice before, she’s usually calm and composed. He glances at Henry, and when he sees that his friend has suddenly found an interest in his shoes, Jasper knows they messed up big time. 
Ray frowns when he sees Y/N crossing her arms over her chest again. Her cold stare travels from Henry, to Jasper, to him, and by the way she holds her head high, lips flattened into a thin line, he can sense the anger radiating off of her. What Ray doesn’t understand is why.
“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Schwoz chuckles as he gets up. “Let me get some popcorn.”
He returns a minute later with a red bowl filled to the brim with popcorn, setting the food on the table as he sits back on the couch next to Charlotte. Both watch, shoving food in their mouths, as Y/N shifts on her feets, body tense.
“What. Happened?” Y/N asks again, gritting through her teeth.
“Okay, first of all,” Ray begins, holding his hands out in front of him as he takes a step towards the girl. “We couldn’t find a light switch anywhere.”
“It– it was very dark.” Henry chirps in, barely glancing up at her as he tries to justify their actions. “And kinda cold.” His voice falters as he looks back to the floor.
“I happened to have a flare on me.” Ray adds, as if there were nothing wrong with that.
“Which would solve both problems.”
Y/N rolls her eyes at Jasper’s comment, her nostrils flaring as she grows impatient. Without even realizing it, she begins to tap her foot against the tiled floor of the Man Cave, her cold stare directed towards Ray. 
“So, I had a flare… in your kitchen.” Ray begins to explain again, somehow proud of himself.
“And then, we started exploring!” Jasper smiles.
“First thing we uh… found were the curtains.” Henry adds sheepishly. “Well… the flare found ‘em.”
Henry tentatively looks up to his friend, a sheepish smile across his face. It falters when he sees the hurt flashing in her eyes for a brief second. He hates to see her like this, and he never wants to see her like this again. He has to admit it, lighting up a flare in her kitchen had been a bad idea, and he doesn’t know why he and Jasper didn’t try to stop Ray from doing something this stupid. They should be used to it by now; Henry has been dealing with his boss’s antics for the last five years, so has Charlotte, and both Jasper and Y/N have been dealing with it for the last two years. Ray, more often than not, acts without thinking twice about his actions, and perhaps that is because he’s been indestructible since he was eight years old, but he often forgets that the teenagers, and Schwoz, are not him and that they aren’t indestructible. His impulsive actions often bring them into trouble, and Henry has always wondered how they haven’t been badly injured by now, or sent to the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. Lighting up a flare in Y/N’s kitchen should have been an idea that stayed in Ray’s childish brain.
“Those things went up fast.” Ray laughs as Jasper imitates a fire starting.
“Did you guys try to put it out?!” Y/N asks, exasperated.
“Yes! Of course we did.” Jasper tells her.
“But uhm, you know the saying “fight fire with fire”?” Henry asks tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah, that does not work!” Ray snorts.
“Oh my god!”
Y/N groans as she lets her arms fall to her sides, turning on her heels and heading for the elevator. She pounds her fist against the button, letting out a frustrated yell when the elevator doesn’t come right away. Jasper tries to reach for her, but she whips her head over her shoulder, sending him a stare that could have put him to his grave if her eyes held daggers. Jasper raises his hands up in defence, taking a step back to stand in between Ray and Henry. 
“Where are you going?” Henry asks his best friend, voice filled with guilt.
“None of your business.” Y/N grits through her clenched teeth.
She doesn’t mean to speak to Henry that way, but she’s beyond mad that they burned their kitchen, and what pisses her off most is that they don’t even seem to be aware of how bad they messed up.
“Wh– whoa there, Y/N.” Ray exclaims, raising his arms up in defense.
“Yeah, what’s your deal?” Jasper scoffs, nudging Henry.
“My deal–” Y/N speaks through gritted teeth. “–is that I have a date tonight, with Jack Swagger. And I was gonna make him dinner at my house, but you guys blew my kitchen!”
Y/N yells exasperatedly, turning her head back towards the elevator and using one hand to push the up button on the panel on her right. 
Charlotte stands from where she sat on the couch, walking over to the boys. She’s the only one who knows of Y/N’s date night with Jack Swagger, and she’s also the only one who knows Jack Swagger out of his international fame. The two girls had met him at camp, ten years earlier, and he contacted Y/N to let her know he was coming to Swellview for a couple days, and that he wanted to hang out with her. Charlotte also knows the real reason why Y/N had agreed to go on a date with Jack, and it wasn’t because she used to have a crush on him when they’d first met. 
“Wait.” Jasper’s voice cuts through Charlotte’s train of thoughts. “You know Jack Swagger?” He asks, taking a step toward Y/N. “International music superstar Jack Swagger?”
“Youngest person to win a Grammy Jack Swagger?” Schwoz questions, rushing to Y/N.
“You have a date?” 
Henry asks Y/N, a little surprised that his best friend has a date with someone and that she didn’t tell him about it.  
“Yeah, I had a date.” She answers him, coldly.
“With Jack Swagger?” He asks again.
“Yes, with Jack Swagger. Can we not do this? I have to go and see the mess you guys made in my house. See if I can fix anything, or if I have to cancel my date tonight.”
Y/N pounds her fist on the elevator button again, but her movement is less angry and more frustrated. In truth, even if she originally did not want to go on a date with Jack Swagger, she’d warmed up to the idea and she was really looking forward to it. Besides, she’d figured it would help her forget about a certain someone that’s been on her mind twenty-four-seven. 
When the elevator comes to a stop and the doors ding open, Y/N steps inside, pressing the up button without looking at it, and she keeps her death stare on the three men as the doors close again. 
Henry watches as she disappears behind the now-closed elevator doors, but he knows she hasn’t gone up just yet, or they would have heard the loud squeaking noise from the elevator’s mechanical whirring. Perhaps she’s calling Jack Swagger; he did see her reach for her phone in the back pocket of her jeans. For some reason, however, knowing about the possibility of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack makes Henry feel less guilty about his responsibility for being part of the reason why Y/N’s kitchen burned. He knows he shouldn’t feel happy about it, but he does. 
“How does she know Jack Swagger?” Jasper asks, turning towards Charlotte when the elevator doors close.
“Me and Y/N went to camp with him, like ten years ago. He was Jack Swaggowitz back then.”
“Okayyy… How did we not know this until now?”
“We’ve told you like a million times! You guys just never listen to us.”
“Okay, fine! Fine!” Jasper raises his hands up in defeat. “So, why can’t they go to Sotto Voce? Or any other restaurant in Swellview?”
“Yeah! Sotto Voce is a nice place.” Ray chimes into the conversation in agreement, snapping his fingers. “Romantic, and kitchen not burned.”
“That you know of.” Jasper nudges him.
“That I know of.”
“They tried that.” Charlotte explains, sighing. “He’s too famous and gets mobbed wherever he goes.”
That catches Henry’s attention, and he raises a brow as he turns towards Charlotte. What does she mean by “they tried that”? Did Y/N have other dates with Jack Swagger, and she only told Charlotte about it? Why is it bothering him so much that Y/N goes on dates with other boys? She is only his best friend, he has no right to decide who she can date. He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as his friends’ voices come back into focus.
“I got it!” Jasper exclaims, snapping his fingers. “We need someplace to turn into a fake restaurant. Okay? Some place nobody knows about; somewhere underground.”
“So?” Charlotte raises a brow.
“I say we make a fake restaurant in Henry’s house!”
“No.” Henry deadpans, letting his arms drop to his sides.
He doesn’t want to get involved in this. He doesn’t want to make up a fake restaurant so that Y/N can enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. And he especially doesn’t want it to happen at his house. Because if it happens at his house, it means he has to be there, and he has to be forced to watch his friend enjoy her date with some stupid international celebrity when she should be enjoying a nice date in a nice, real restaurant with him– Oh.
Henry bites down on his lips. Take a deep breath, he thinks. He inhales deeply and then, he remembers what Piper said when she called earlier today.
“Why not?” Ray asks.
“There’s a hawk in my house.” Henry answers, silently thanking his idiot dad for bringing a hawk to the house.
“There’s a hawk in your house?” Schwoz questions.
“That’s what Piper said.” Henry shrugs. “I may need to crash here ‘til the hawk leaves.” He adds.
Good thing there is a hawk in his house simply because his father had wanted to get rid of a cricket. It doesn’t make any sense, and Henry hadn’t asked his sister for the details, but right now he was glad he wouldn’t be making up a fake restaurant in his house.
“Okay…” Charlotte trails out, thinking. “So we’ll do it in the Man Cave.”
“Do what in the Man Cave?” Ray wonders, looking at her.
“Make it a secret restaurant so Y/N and Jack can have their date.”
“No! We are not turning the Man Cave into a secret restaurant.”
Oh, no. If they turn the Man Cave into a fake restaurant, it means that Henry, and perhaps Charlotte, will have to pretend to be waiters for the night, and Henry isn't sure he can act the part. Well, if it were for anyone else, he’s pretty sure he could, but not for Y/N. Luckily for him, there’s no way Ray would agree to Charlotte’s idea but the elevator doors ding open, and out steps Y/N. She’s got that hopeful look in her eyes, and Henry knows she’d heard them from inside the elevator. He silently curses under his breath. There go his hopes of Y/N cancelling her date with Jack Swagger. 
“You owe me, Ray.” Y/N says, tilting her head. “You burned down my kitchen.”
She raises a brow expectantly, crossing her arms over her chest. Henry shifts on his feet, body tensing as he clenches his jaw. Deep down he hopes that Ray will say no, but Y/N is using her convincing look that none of them can resist, when she’d stare at you intensely until you give up, and she’s backed up by Charlotte, who’s standing next to Y/N and who’s using her famous judgemental look, with her hands on her hips.
“You owe me.” Y/N says again, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
Ray groans, throwing his head back in defeat. “Fine! We’ll turn the Man Cave into a restaurant!”
Y/N squeals out excitedly, turning around to embrace Charlotte in a tight hug, before she goes back inside the elevator, closing the doors behind her and the mechanical whirring activates to indicate that Y/N has gone up to Junk’N’Stuff, the store a half-mile above the Man Cave. 
Henry’s shoulders drop, and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants, a million thoughts running haywire in his brain. Charlotte notices it, and a smile begins to grow in the corner of her lips. She shakes her head in disbelief before she nudges Jasper’s side, pointing at Henry with her chin. Jasper raises a brow, and he looks back at Charlotte with a knowing smile of his own. 
“Sorry I’m late.” Henry says begrudgingly as he steps out of the elevator. “The hawk grabbed my tie and wouldn’t give it back. Luckily, my dad distracted it with his face.”
“Is he okay?” Jasper asks his friend.
“Yeah, he’s okay. He’s got like… razor talons and like, a knife beak. So.”
“No, no. I meant your dad.”
“Oh! No, he’s in serious pain.” He pauses. “This place looks, uh… great…”
Henry looks around. Silver and pastel purple curtains cover the entirety of the Man Cave, hiding away anything hero-related like the tubes or the sprocket. Three tables are set for two, with silver tablecloths, white plates and silver cutlery, wine glasses and pastel purple napkins to match with the curtains. A grand white piano with fake candles on it stands in the corner, where the couch usually is, and the floor of the Man Cave is covered with a variety of used red carpets to hide the blue and red logo that’s usually visible on the tiled floor. Henry also notices the white peonies and Calla lilies that form one bouquet on the centre of each table, Y/N’s favourite flowers.
There’s a tugging at his heart as he takes in his surroundings. His mind is telling him that this is not right; and he wonders why he is doing all this, but then he remembers. He did participate in burning Y/N’s kitchen, so he owed her this, as much as Ray and Jasper did. He is surprised that they even managed to create a romantic fake restaurant in the Man Cave in the first place, but it doesn’t mean that he cannot loathe the idea of Y/N having a date with someone. 
“Where’s Ray?” Henry eventually asks Jasper to try to forget about his unresolved feelings for Y/N.
“Chef’s in the kitchen.” Jasper answers, shrugging.
“Wh– where’s the kitchen?”
“Behind the soundproof curtain.”
“Whaaaaat?”
Henry trails out dumbfounded as Jasper mouths “I know”. Ray’s voice reaches their ears almost immediately as Henry slightly pulls open the curtain to make sure Jasper’s telling him the truth about it being soundproof.
“Are you kidding me?!” Ray shouts exasperatedly. “I just had it! How could I lose– it was here two seconds ago! I swear on my father’s prepurchased burial plot–”
Henry closes the curtain, then turns back to Jasper. “Hm. Chef sounds mad.”
“Yeah, we should check on him.” Jasper agrees.
The two friends step through the soundproof curtain, and they see Ray frantically looking around for something, flailing his arms around with two lit flares in each of his hands.
“Oh, come on!” Ray yells.
“Woah, whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing?” Henry asks, raising a brow. Anything to get his mind off of Y/N.
“I can’t find my fifth flare!” Ray whines. “And if I don’t have all five flares, it’s ruined!”
“Put the flares away man. They’re for emergencies only!”
“Or for playing Truth or Flare!” Jasper adds.
“It’s fine. I just had the thing! Where– it was here a second ago!”
Ray keeps muttering to himself as he searches for his flare inside the made-up kitchen. He pivots on his feet, his back toward the teenagers, and Henry sighs exasperatedly when he spots the flare inside of Ray’s backpocket.
“Found it!” He says. “I found it!” He goes to grab a dish towel. “Stop. Move.”
“Where is it?” Ray asks again, more to himself.
“Dude, you gotta stop lighting flares in kitchens.” Henry deadpans as he grabs the lit flare from Ray’s pocket.
“Why? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Henry and Jasper exchange a look, before they try to pry the flares away from Ray’s hands.
“Okay, hand them over.” Jasper says when Ray tries to resist.
“Give them to me man.” Henry groans. “We’re done. We’re done! We’re done!” 
“Ah! You’re ruining my process! No, don’t put them in there! Don’t put that– Oh…”
Ray whines again as he sees the two teenagers throwing his flares into a steaming pot of water. Henry wipes his hands over the black apron tied around his waist just as Jasper’s phone beeps with an alert. He quickly checks it, and he adjusts the bowtie around his neck.
“Okay. Y/N and Jack Swagger are close.” He says, putting his phone in his pocket. “I gotta go up to Junk’N’Stuff, meet Charlotte, and pretend it’s a fake store.”
“It is a fake store.” Henry snorts, rolling his eyes.
“Exactly. This guy gets it.”
Henry shakes his head in disbelief. So much for trying to forget about his feelings.
“I am so sorry, we are fully committed this evening. There are no tables available– Madam President.” Jasper hangs up the phone, raising his head as the shop’s bell dings. “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t see you there because I was just on the phone with– Y/N?”
Y/N stands awkwardly in the middle of the shop when Jasper finally acknowledges her presence, but he frowns when he notices she stands there, alone. Charlotte stands behind her, with a sad look on her features and she takes a tentative step towards her friend.
“Are you okay Y/N?” Charlotte asks. “Where’s Jack Swagger?”
“He– he bailed on me.”
Y/N chokes out, trying to keep her tears at bay. She knows how much effort her friends put into creating this fake underground restaurant just for her to have her date with Jack, she can’t cry in front of them. And yet, she did not expect Jack to bail on her when she was inside a taxi and on her way to pick him up from his hotel. She couldn’t call her friends to tell them to cancel everything, she didn’t have the heart to. They did all this for her, so she could have a quiet date with a celebrity she’d known since she was ten; she couldn’t bail out on her friends after what they’ve done for her. And yeah, she only ever agreed to go on a date with Jack to forget about her unresolved feelings for someone else, and she knew it probably wouldn’t have worked out between her and Jack, but it had been nice to know that someone cared enough about her to take her out on a date. She wasn’t even mad that her date wasn’t about to happen, she was upset because her friends had created a fake restaurant for her and Jack, and he’d bailed on her at the last minute.
Y/N shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself from the cold, and she hugs herself tightly as Charlotte puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jasper gets off from the chair he’s been sitting on, and he walks around the cashier counter to join his two friends.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jasper wonders, genuine concern in his voice.
“H– he texted me. I was already in a taxi on my way here. I was supposed to pick him up on the way, when he texted. Said he couldn’t make it, superstar stuff he said…”
“Y/N… You could have called us.” Charlotte says. “To tell us your date was cancelled.”
“N– no. You guys made up a fake restaurant in the Man Cave so that I could have my date with Jack. It wouldn’t have been fair to you guys if I had cancelled, not after all the effort you must have put into doing whatever’s below us. I– I’m gonna go down there, and I’m gonna have a girl’s dinner by myself.”
Charlotte smiles sadly, before an idea pops in her mind. She lifts her head to look at Jasper, and an understanding passes between them. Charlotte knows what she has to do. 
“Don’t be ridiculous Y/N. I’ll have a girl’s dinner with you.” Charlotte lies, having another idea in mind, but Y/N seems to buy it.
“Dinner for two, then?” Jasper chimes in  as he walks back behind the counter.
“Yeah, okay.” Y/N laughs. “We have a reservation for Y/N. Y/N L/N.”
“Ah! There it is. Right this way, ladies.”
Y/N and Charlotte look at each other before laughing at Jasper’s antics as he leads the way to the elevator in the back shop. 
Down in the Man Cave, Henry waits by the white grand piano as the elevator dings open and out come Y/N, Charlotte, and Jasper. The first thing he notices then, is the absence of Jack Swagger. He frowns, and his grip on the fake menus tightens. His jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth, but his features soften again when his eyes land back on Y/N.
Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat as he looks at her. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, with her hair cascading down her shoulders and the mesmerized smile hanging on her red, lipstick-covered lips. She spins around on her feet, taking in the sight of the remodelled Man Cave for the occasion, and the long dress she wears twirls as she does so. Her soft chuckle is like music to Henry when it reaches his ears, pulling him out of his reverie just as Jasper and Charlotte walk up to him. But his eyes never leave Y/N, not even when Jasper drags him behind the soundproof curtain until he can’t see her anymore.
“What’s going on?” Schwoz asks, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “Why’s Henry all lovestruck?”
That seems to pull Henry out of his trance. “No, I’m not!” He says, shaking his head. “Jasper, what’s going on? Why is Y/N on her own?”
“Oh! Jack Swagger bailed on her.” Jasper answers nonchalantly.
“What?!”
“Yeah. He texted her when she was on her way to pick him up in a taxi.”
“So, she came on her own?” Schwoz questions, raising a brow. “Then, what’s the point of a date?”
“She didn’t want to cancel, because she knows how much effort we put in turning the Man Cave into a fake restaurant. She’s going to have a girl’s dinner with Charlotte instead.”
“Well, actually… I lied.”
All four men -including Ray, who’d been eavesdropping on the conversation while stirring a pot- jump on their feet, startled by Charlotte who’s now standing behind Jasper, the soundproof curtain closed behind her. 
“Y– you lied to Y/N?” Jasper asks incredulously. “W– why?”
“I thought we were on the same page!” Charlotte groans, throwing her head back.
“Did you– did you leave Y/N on her own?” Ray asks, pointing an accusatory finger at Charlotte.
“No, Piper’s here!”
“Wh– What? Piper’s here? Wh– why?” Henry questions.
“She thought she’d see Jack Swagger with Y/N, so she came to play the piano.”
“But Piper doesn’t know how to play the piano?”
“That’s what I said! She was gonna use her phone to play slow jams, and she’d just fake playing.”
“Uh, makes sense.” Schwoz shrugs as he nods approvingly.
“Any-Ray…” Ray interrupts. “Why did you lie to Y/N, Charlotte?”
“Come on! I can’t be the only one smart enough to have figured it out, can I?” When no one says anything, Charlotte says, “Henry is going to take Y/N out for dinner here.” 
Henry drops the fake menus he’d been holding onto all this time, and he whips his head towards Charlotte, blinking several times as if she’d grown several heads and he couldn’t believe it.
“Wh– wha– what?” He breathes out in shock. “Wh– wh– why?! I can’t take Y/N out for dinner, have you lost your mind Char?”
“Hen, we know you like her.” Charlotte implies, and her statement is followed by a chorus of hm.
“Wh– what? N– no, I don’t.”
“Yeah, you do.” Jasper states. “Now that Char’s said it out loud, we know what she’s talking about. You’re not good at hiding it.”
“Even Ray could tell you like her.” Charlotte adds.
“Hey!” Ray whines. “But it’s true though. You do like her.”
“Yeah! You’ve been doing oogly eyes at Y/N whenever she comes to work.” Schwoz carries on, nodding.
“What does that even mean, Schwoz?!” Henry wonders.
“You can’t take your eyes off her!”
“Schwoz’s right.” Charlotte agrees. “You even started to read her favorite book. And you hate reading.”
Henry sighs, throwing his head back and lifting his arms up in defeat.
“Okay, fine! Fine.” He says. “So, what if I like her? What am I supposed to do?”
“Take her out on a date, Kid.” Ray answers, motioning towards the soundproof curtains.
“But what if she doesn’t like me that way?”
“But, what if she does?” 
Henry glares at Ray, before he glances towards Charlotte. Surely she’d been joking when she suggested he takes Y/N out on a date here in the Man Cave turned restaurant. But she looks at him with a knowing smile, arms crossed over her chest, and she’s backed up by Jasper, who has a smug expression plastered on his face. 
Henry sighs. It’s true that he hasn’t been really excited to play-pretend being a waiter in a fake restaurant, because it meant being forced to watch Y/N enjoy her date with Jack Swagger. It’s true, now that he thinks about it, he’d felt slightly jealous when Y/N first mentioned her date with Jack Swagger earlier today. And it’s true that he’d felt slightly relieved when he found out that Jack Swagger bailed on Y/N. So, what is he so afraid of now? Charlotte’s offering him a chance to take Y/N out on a date, in this fake restaurant they’d spent all afternoon setting up, why doesn’t he want to take it?
He glances at the soundproof curtains, knowing Y/N’s behind with his sister, and Henry can hear the thumping of his heart the more he thinks about how she looks tonight. Her bright smile, the wonder in her eyes as she’d looked around the remodeled Man Cave for the occasion, her H/C cascading down her shoulders, or how her dress fitted her perfectly as she twirled around.
“Earth to Henry. Earth to Henry.”
Henry blinks, pulled out of his thoughts by Ray’s voice, and when he turns his head back towards his friends, he knows what he has to do. He fumbles with the knot around his waist, before handing his apron to Jasper.
“Why are you giving me this?” Jasper asks, raising a brow.
“I’m gonna take Y/N out on a date.” Henry says confidently. “Give me your tux jacket.”
Jasper grumbles and reluctantly gives his jacket to his friend. Lucky for the both of them, they wear the same size so the jacket fits Henry like a glove. 
“Let’s get this date on the road!” Ray shouts as he fist-bumps the air, returning to his cooking.
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t blow up another kitchen with those flares.” Charlotte sighs, watching as Ray childishly lights up a flare.
“Thanks.” Henry whispers before he turns to Jasper.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll be the waiter tonight.”
“Thanks man.”
Henry steps out of the made-up kitchen, instantly spotting Y/N by the grand white piano, laughing as Piper pretends to be a professional pianist. He nervously adjusts the tie around his neck, wiping his moist hands on his trousers as he walks over to the two teenage girls. Tentatively, he puts a hand on Y/N’s back, and she turns her head around to look at him.
“Oh, hey Hen.” She smiles. “What’s up?”
“Char told me what happened,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. Where is Charlotte, by the way?”
“In the kitchen, making sure Ray doesn’t blow it up.”
“Oh.”
Henry can hear the disappointment in her voice, and he instantly feels guilty, dropping his hand from the small of her back. He swallows nervously, and he hears the rustling of the curtain behind him, meaning Jasper’s waiting to settle them at their table.
“Y/N?” Henry calls for her attention.
She lifts her head, eyes looking into his. “Hm?”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asks her, rubbing a hand against his neck out of nervousness.
“Wh– what?”
“This is going to be interesting.” Piper whispers under her breath as she watches.
“I, uh… I’d like to take you out on a date if, uh… that’s okay with you?” Henry tries again, albeit clumsily. 
“Are you– are you asking because Jack Swagger bailed on me?”
“N– no! No!” Henry shakes his head, hands dropping to his sides. “No! I’m– Listen, Y/N, I– I like you. I mean, I like like you, Y/N. And I’d love it if you’d go on a date with me.”
“You– you like me?” Y/N stutters, blinking.
“Yeah, I do.”
Y/N lets out a trembling breath. She doesn’t know what to think; she’s had the longest crush on her best friend that she doesn’t even remember when she’d first caught feelings for him. He’d been the whole reason she agreed to go on a date with Jack Swagger in the first place; to forget about her confusing feelings for Henry. But here he is now, after she’d been bailed on, asking her out on a date in a fake restaurant he’d put up all afternoon with the rest of their friends. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beating of her heart as she looks back to Henry. What an interesting night this turns out to be, she thinks.
“I’d love to go on a date with you, Henry Hart.” Y/N says eventually, smiling.
“Shall we?”
Henry asks as he offers her his arm to take, and shivers run down his spine when her hand finds the crook of his elbow. He looks at her with a smile, before he leads her away from the grand piano, where Piper resumes fake-playing a slow tune, and towards Jasper who holds the fake menus in his hands.
“If the two lovebirds would follow me,” Jasper says as he slips into the role of a waiter in a fancy restaurant. “We have your table ready right over here.”
“Thanks.” Henry says as he pulls the chair for Y/N.
Y/N sits down, placing her small purse on her thighs as she waits for Henry to sit across from her. She spots the flowers in the centre, and she smiles. Her favourites. For a minute she wonders whose idea it was for the flowers, and after pondering it she comes to the conclusion that it had either been Charlotte, or Henry. 
“So…” Y/N trails out, a smirk on her lips, as Henry sits down. “What’s this place called?”
“It’s called Food.” Jasper answers proudly.
“That’s dumb.” Y/N snorts.
“Is it? What if I told you it’s ‘food’ spelled with a U with two dots over it.”
“Now, that’s interesting.” She glances at Henry, who smiles sheepishly.
Jasper hands them the menus. “Take your time, I’ll be back for your orders.”
Y/N gives Jasper a grateful smile, watching as he disappears behind the silver curtains. For a short minute, she can even hear Ray yelling there and she cannot suppress a laugh as she shakes her head in disbelief.
“This place is nice.” She says, looking at Henry again. “For a fake restaurant.”
“Right? So private.”
“Henry, we’re the only ones here. Of course, it’s private.”
“Ye– yeah, I know. I just– I like the idea of our first date being private. Y’know, without anyone around.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe that your sister is eying us from the piano, and that everyone else here has poked their head through the curtain to spy on us.”
Y/N finishes explaining with a laugh, and Henry looks over his shoulder to see Ray, Schwoz, Charlotte, and Jasper with their heads poking through the soundproof curtain, one head after the other. He frowns, giving them his best menacing stare, and all of them scurry off back behind the curtains. Then he glances towards his sister, his lips pressed into a thin line when he sees her with her phone in her hand as if she were going to take a picture. He wants to tell her off, but the words get lost in his throat when he feels a hand above his on the table, and he turns his head back around to look at Y/N. She’s smiling that soft smile she always wears around the people she loves, and Henry’s breath gets caught up in his throat again. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks as he flips his hand around so that his palm touches hers. 
“I’m sorry this isn’t the date you had in mind.” He tells her, holding her hand in his. “And I’m sorry Jack Swagger bailed on you. And that you’re stuck with me inst–”
“Henry.” She interrupts him, smiling. “I’m glad it’s you I’m stuck with. And it may be a fake restaurant, with fake chefs, a fake waiter and a fake pianist, but I’m happy it’s you here with me.”
“R– really?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I’m not sure it would have worked out between me and Jack, if something ever were to happen… I don’t think I’m cut out to be the girlfriend of a superstar.” She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully. 
“And what about being the girlfriend of an awesome sidekick to a superhero?” Henry asks with a smug smile on his lips.
“Henry Hart, are you asking me to be your girlfriend at the beginning of our very first date?”
Y/N questions him, letting go of his hand as she leans over the table, resting her elbows on top of the silver table cloth, and she rests her chin atop her linked hands. A playful smirk grows on her lips as she watches him, raising a brow as she waits for his answer.
“And what if I am?” He says then, mimicking her movements. “What then?”
Y/N hums, feigning deeply thinking. “I don’t know. Do you know any awesome sidekicks here in Swellview?”
“I might know of one. Maybe you’ve heard of him. His name is Kid Danger.”
“The name does ring a bell.” She says playfully, leaning further over the table. “Do you know where I might find him?”
“I heard he works in a store called Junk’N’Stuff.” Henry answers, leaning over the table until his forehead touches hers. “And I heard he’s really Henry Hart behind the mask.”
“Well then, Henry Hart,” Y/N says with a smile. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”
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ⓒ writerinlearning – 2025
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gingerteafairy · 1 day ago
Text
type (dave lizewski x reader)
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You're Dave's type, but he's too shy to tell.
tags n warnings: language, college!dave, teasing, mentions of sex. word count: +900
masterlist
The holidays were over, and you were finally going to see your best friend, Dave, again—a relief, given that the genius only replied to messages every few months. Sitting alone in the lecture hall, headphones on, you tried to tune out the idle chatter of your college classmates. Occasionally, you’d tilt your head to eavesdrop on bits of their conversations, but nothing held your attention for long.
Then, the door creaked open, and there he was. Dave stumbled in, nearly tripping over his own feet, his trademark awkwardness in full display. Your lips spread into a wide smile as you shot up from your seat and hurried toward him, wrapping him in a tight, lingering hug.
“Oh my God, Dave. It’s been so long! I missed you so much!” you exclaimed, rocking him side to side as his arms circled you hesitantly before settling into the embrace.
“Yeah, way too long,” he mumbled, chuckling nervously as he stepped back, one hand awkwardly running through his hair. His eyes darted away briefly before finding yours again. He shifted on his feet, then tossed his bag onto a random chair at the back of the room. “Uh, I’m just gonna say hi to Todd real quick.”
“I’m coming with you,” you said without hesitation, trailing behind him as he flashed you a shy grin. “I’m like your shadow, Dave. You’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t mind,” he quipped, his voice softer than usual, as if he were still processing how happy he was to see you.
When the two of you reached Todd, Dave greeted him with an overly enthusiastic high-five, laughing a little too loudly as they exchanged a few words. You hung back, watching the interaction with a warm smile, glad to see him back in his element.
After their brief conversation, Dave turned back to you with a mischievous glint in his eye, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you asked, squinting at him curiously.
He glanced around the room, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Come with me,” he whispered, leading you to a quieter corner. His gaze flickered toward Todd, who was engrossed in his phone. Lowering his voice even further, he asked, “He’s your type, isn’t he?”
Your cheeks flushed as you laughed softly. “Damn it. Yeah, he is.”
“I knew it,” Dave said, grinning smugly before his expression faltered. He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking unsure. “Uh, wait. Is that, like, offensive or something? I didn’t mean it to be—like, dating stuff—”
“Relax, Dave,” you interrupted with a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. I just… have a weakness for wavy hair.”
He swallowed hard, adjusting his shirt and fidgeting with the hem before abruptly striding toward the door and you crossed your fingers hoping he didn't get that he was your major type. “Follow me,” he blurted, glancing back to make sure you were behind him. He led you out into the hallway, peeking through the glass pane on the door.
“What are we doing here?” you whispered, mirroring his action and looking inside.
“Trying to figure out who else in there is your type,” he replied, squinting as he scanned the room. After a moment, he nodded toward someone. “Okay, the guy in the Strokes shirt with glasses.”
“Shit, Dave,” you muttered, laughing as you shook your head. “How do you always know?”
“I could fuck him. He's fucking cute. Look at those glasses and band buttons. So appealing.” He chuckled softly.
“Hold all bisexuals in the world, The Strokes guy is the moment.” You laughed, glancing at the guy briefly looking behind and you both crouched on the floor. “Do you think he heard us?”
“I hope so, we can make a threesome.” he teased, nudging you.
“Being sandwiched by two dorks, life achievement.” You said giggling with Dave on the floor. You both stood up and proceeded to chase.
“Your turn,” he challenged, crossing his arms.
You smirked, pretending to ponder before pointing to a girl with wavy hair and a blue sweater. “Her.”
“She’s hot,” he admitted, his cheeks reddening. He ran a hand through his messy hair and avoided your gaze, but his attention soon drifted back to you. He licked his lips, debating whether to say what was on his mind.
“What about the redhead in the Slayer shirt?” you teased, watching him glance at her.
“She’s… yeah, she’s nice,” he said quietly, though his eyes quickly returned to you.
Suddenly, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the courtyard. “Alright, now I’m guessing yours,” he said with a determined look.
“Dave,” you interrupted, halting his steps. “You know you’re my type, right?”
His entire face flushed as he froze, his hand flying to cover his face. “Shit, sorry. I embarrassed you, didn’t I?” you asked, guilt creeping into your voice.
“No, no, it’s not that,” he mumbled through his hands. Slowly, he dropped them, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “It’s just… you’re mine, too.”
Your breath caught as you smiled down at the ground before meeting his soft, nervous gaze. Before either of you could say anything more, the reality of class hit you.
“Dave, do you think class started already?” you asked suddenly.
“I was just about to ask you that,” he replied, scratching his neck awkwardly.
The two of you rushed back, slipping into the room just as the professor launched into a speech about tardiness. You barely heard a word of it, your thoughts consumed by what Dave had just admitted. For Dave, hearing your confession in person—rather than over a text he’d likely overthink for weeks—meant the world. You were exactly his type, and he couldn’t believe his luck.
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chrissturnsfav · 13 hours ago
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so i have tbis fic idea right...
so what of dealer!chris bought bun a vibrator right and its like set on his ohone, and while they're out with friends he does thomgs and she bas to hide her expressions and stuff
(IK THIS IS BAD IM SORRYY🙏🙏)
𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄
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dealer!chris puts a vibrator in your panties, finding it funny how you struggle to keep your composure while on a few deals with him.
ᰔᩚ smut, dealer!chris, edging, clitoral stimulation, vibrator stimulation, teasing, pet names
ᰔᩚ w.c. 2,138
ᰔᩚ changed up this request a little! hope you don't mind :)
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chris has one hand on the plush skin of your thigh, the pad of his thumb stroking it—the other hand on the wheel as he drives through a shady looking neighborhood.
it's about nine p.m., the front windows down, your hair blowing in the wind as the hard rap music blaring from the car's speakers fills your ears, the scent of weed coming from the blunt between chris' lips filling your nose.
"can't believe you actually gon' lemme do this shit," chris snickers, a smirk on his lips, his voice slightly muffled by the blunt in his mouth as he glances over at you.
you look over at him beside you with a pout, huffing quietly as the moonlight casts a dim glimmer over your angelic face.
chris studies your features as he comes to a red light, taking a toke off the blunt as he snickers and exhales the smoke, squeezing your thigh and then patting it. "funny how y'look like an angel, but you a fuckin' freak at heart," he teases you.
your cheeks heat up in an instant, your gaze shifting to look in front of you as you huff in embarrassment under your breath, uncomfortably adjusting your lacy mini skirt that rests on your upper thighs.
chris just smirks and snickers at you in response, placing the blunt back between his lips as the light turns green, his foot moving to the gas pedal.
a few minutes go by, and the both of you are soon pulling up to the house of the first customer. you know what's coming, your heart pounding out of your chest as you nervously toy with the bow on your lacy tank top.
chris notices your nervous demeanor as he shoots the customer a text, letting them know he's outside. he tosses his phone back in his lap, smirking at you, "y'ready, kid?"
"stop it," you mutter, your head swirling anxiously, palms clammy as you keep your gaze on your lap.
footsteps can be heard through chris' open window, the smirk growing on his lips as he opens his phone. he taps a few buttons and by the time the customer is hopping in the backseat, you're practically sinking in your seat.
the vibrator inside your panties sends jolts of pleasure through you, immediately having your thighs shaking. heat floods through you as you stare up at the car's ceiling, trying to hold yourself together. but a little gasp escapes your lips when you feel your clit throb while the vibrator shakes inside you, your hips jerking instinctively.
chris glares at you as he takes a hit from his blunt, nudging your thigh before turning to look at the customer in the backseat, who's completely oblivious to what's going on with you.
while you bite down hard on your plush bottom lip, squeezing your eyes shut as your hands dig into the sides of the leather, chris hands the customer his order. you don't even know what it is, too worried that if you turn your head, the customer will see the look of ecstasy on your face.
as the customer hands chris an envelope of cash, their voices blur together in your messy head, your face tightly scrunched together as you desperately try to bite back a mewl, the vibrator making your toes curl in your shoes and your hands clammy.
but it's over as soon as it started, the customer exiting the car as chris hits a button on his phone, stopping all the torturous pleasure in your panties.
he looks at you with a smirk, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as you let out a loud exhale. "told you to make sure y'stay quiet, yeah?"
you nod, your cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as you gnaw on your bottom lip. "yeah..."
"be a good girl f'me, don't make a sound. 'kay?" he says with a firmness that makes your heart flutter and your panties stickier than they already had become, chris taking a small toke off his blunt.
you swallow thickly, nodding as he begins to drive to the next customer's house.
and then it's happening again, the customer climbs into the backseat while you're sitting in the front in complete, silent ecstasy.
you feel more desperate and needy as your fingers clench tightly around your skirt. your pussy clenches around the vibrator in your soaked panties, and you can see the cheeky grin that crawls across chris' lips as he glances at you while handing the customer a small baggie of pills.
your thighs are shaking, your teeth sinking so hard into your bottom lip that you're about to draw blood, giving everything inside you to not lose it right here with the customer in the backseat.
as the customer pays chris, your hands fly to dig into the leather of the seat on either side of you as you rub your shaky thighs together, your high just out of reach.
you're getting closer and closer as they have a quick conversation, your toes curling tightly in your shoes as you meekly loll your head back against the headrest, pussy clenching around the vibrator as the knot grows in your tummy, your eyes squeezed shut. the knot grows tighter, tighter, t—
and then it's gone.
you fail to even notice that the customer has started walking back into your house, your breath unsteady as your eyes fly open, a needy look in your eyes as you see the customer heading up their front steps.
you're left whining in your seat, desperately trying to rub your thighs together for some type of friction, but it's too late. the pleasure is gone.
chris laughs smugly at you, that same stupid smirk on his lips as he shifts the car into drive, "aww, you were so close, hm?" he coos tauntingly, making your heart pound as he tosses the now used blunt out the window.
you glare at him out of your peripheral, your bottom lip jutted out in a needy pout as you whimper desperately, "chris, please..."
that makes his smirk deepen, his hand shifting to squeeze your thigh as he begins to drive, making you shiver. "use them words, f'me. tell me what ya want," he tells you as he exhales a cloud of smoke out the window.
you squeeze your thighs together, swallowing thickly as you huff shakily, your mind left in a desperate frenzy as your pussy throbs painfully, panties sticking uncomfortably to your folds. "i-i need...please...i...turn it back on...please?" you babble, stuttering nervously as your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"i know," he coos again, squeezing your thigh making your breath hitch—that's how sensitive you are. "got ten minutes to the next house, sure you'll get to cum by then," he smirks.
by the time you're at the next house, you're not sure how much more you can take. you're praying that this takes long enough for you to cum, but you're also fearful about making any noises if it happens.
as chris hands the customer their order in the backseat, you're shaking in your own seat. your hips buck up, gripping the hem of your skirt with white knuckles as your walls clench tightly around the vibrating device, feeling the pool of sticky nectar between your legs soaking through the thin fabric of your panties, practically leaking onto the seat.
your head falls back against the headrest, your breath caught in your throat as your eyes pinch shut, desperate to not make any noise, desperate to keep your composure as chris and the customer deal.
you're getting close again—that same knot in your belly bubbling tightly, only better than the last time. your thighs shake as you desperately try and squeeze them together, trying your absolute best to remain calm and composed.
your mind is a frantic mess, unable to focus on anything but the pleasure as you squirm in your seat, your body jolting with each vibration sent through your dripping cunt as you teeter on the brink of an orgasm.
you don't even realize chris is talking to you until he nudges your shoulder, abruptly making your head snap to look at him. your eyes are filled with tears of torturous pleasure, your lips pressed together firmly in a thin line. he bites back a smirk, ignoring the way his hardened cock twitches in his jeans. "say bye to tyler, kid," he says and you almost panic.
you swallow thickly, squeezing your thighs together as you let out a shaky breath, trying to desperately ignore your orgasm being right behind you. you slowly turn your head to look at tyler in the backseat—your cheeks red and your forehead sticky with sweat. "b-b...b...bye," you babble.
tyler furrows his brows, snickering at you. your heart drops to your toes as you snap your head back in front of you, your gummy walls clenching tightly around the vibrator that threatens to push you over the edge while you desperately hold back your orgasm.
"bye."
once tyler exits the car, you're robbed from your orgasm a second time. as the jolts of pleasure stop abruptly in your body, you let out a whimper, reaching over to curl your fingers tightly around chris' wrist, a desperate and needy look in your eyes, brows furrowed. "please, please, i-i-i can't—i need it," you whine as he begins to drive.
chris smirks at that, shifting the car into drive as he pulls away from the curb, prodding the inside of his cheek with his tongue. "think y'deserve it?" he asks smugly as he pulls out his phone.
you nod your head frantically with eager, tightening your grip on his wrist, your poor pussy throbbing in your panties that seep through with slick. "p-please, please, chris—i-i can't, i-i need—"
you're cut off when the vibrator starts wracking inside you again, a loud, bottled up whine of relief and pleasure slipping from your lips. your knuckles turn white as you grip his wrist harder, throwing your head back against the headrest.
"a-ah...ah..." you whimper, your eyes squeezing shut as you pant through gritted teeth, your legs squirming in your seat as your other hand flies to grip the hem of your skirt tightly. all the pleasure is intensifying inside you, and you're so close yet again—painfully close.
"that's it, mama," chris praises you, glancing at you beside him with a smug smirk, "you gonna cum in your panties? y'deserve it, look at me," he rips his wrist from your grasp, moving to gently but firmly grab your jaw and force your lidded eyes brimming with tears on him.
you whimper and whine, your thighs shaking as you squirm in your seat, the smirk on chris' lips making your sopping pussy flutter around the vibrator. "there ya go, want you to look at me when y'cum."
"c-chris...chris...i-i," your words are jumbled, barely coherent as he releases his grip on your jaw, but your head stays in his direction. tears of pleasure drop down your hot cheeks, your orgasm just out of reach. "shhh..." he hushes you in a cocky yet soft tone, licking his lips as his dick twitches in his jeans.
and then it all comes crashing down when chris slithers a hand beneath your skirt, rubbing tight circles on your needy pearl. he keeps the smirk on his lips while he watches you cum, his other hand on the wheel, occasionally darting his eyes to the road.
your entire body shakes, a loud cry leaving your open mouth when you come as your hips buck involuntarily upwards, jolts of intense pleasure coursing through your body. you're whimpering, your mind a clouded, jumbled mess of pure euphoria that you've needed for so long.
chris grunts under his breath nodding his head as he helps you ride out your high, rubbing hard circles on your swollen clit as he watches you pant and whimper, coming down from the intense ecstasy.
"atta girl," he praises, pulling his fingers out of your wet panties, sucking the nectar off his digits. "there we go."
you pant and whimper, your vision blurry as you come back to your senses, eyes fluttering shut while you come down from your high.
chris' smug smirk turns softer as he stops at a red light, patting your flushed cheek gently as he nods, "good girl, bun, did so fuckin' good f'me."
but then, you're confused when he pulls into an empty, secluded parking lot, one you've always visited with him late at night. your brows furrow, still a little breathless as you glance over at him.
chris is smirking at you, running his tongue over the bottom row of his teeth as his eyes flit down the hard bulge in his jeans. he nods in your direction, "my turn."
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thank you for reading!! <3
tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @mattysketchup
@chrissturnsfav ™
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