#like it doesn't make ''sense'' or something

[nelsontethers]

[ID: A retro style drawing of a Pokémon trainer and bayleef looking up at a tree with a sleeping hoothoot in it. Text underneath reads, in Japanese, "ずつきをつかいますか？" End ID]

[murderofravens]

POLICEMAN INSTINCT

pairing: hwang inho x fem reader

summary: after moving into a new apartment, you realize you're being stalked. thankfully, the older neighbour you've developed a tiny crush on just so happened to be a retired police officer who is determined to protect you.

warnings: age gap (reader is early twenties, he's late forties) slow burn, strangers to lovers, dry humping, masturbation, attempted sa (not by him) really mid smut, face slapping, scent kink, oral fixation, him being fatherly, reader is a bit of a perv, stalking, yander-ish vibes, touch starved reader, masochism, fluff, angst

word count: 13.4k

[feedback and reblogs are a writer's biggest motivation.]

MASTERLIST

it was the cheapest apartment you could find online. while it looked a little shady on the outside, the inside looked comparatively pleasant and clean. the hallway was narrow, and the shoes were placed outside the respective rooms. you just hoped you would have your privacy, and the walls aren't too thin. you've watched enough thrillers to know nothing good comes out of thin walls.

"is this all the luggage you got?" the landlady asks you, eyeing your bag and a suitcase. you hadn't packed much— you'd figured you'd just buy things from stores instead of bringing them from home. you nod, and she hums before offering you the keys.

"pay rent on time, and don't make too much noise." she tells you kindly, and you give her a polite smile. honestly speaking, she was loud enough herself.

as you fumble with the lock, she turns to leave. faint footsteps can be heard before a man appears, and the landlady steps to the side to allow him room to move.

"oh, inho!" she announces albeit too cheerily— making you almost jump. you turn around to peek over her shoulder as she continues. "you haven't paid your rent yet, just wanted to remind you."

you spot him then— the handsome older man with soft, fluffy looking hair who happened to be carrying a plastic bag with two goldfish in it. the sight makes you smile, and he clenches his jaw as he ensures the landlady that he'll pay the rent soon enough.

she nods before gesturing towards you, "and this is your new neighbour! she came here to study, isn't that nice? don't be grumpy with her like you were with your last neighbours!"

ah. a beautiful older man as your neighbour. perhaps, life is worth living.

he looks up at you, and you freeze slightly, suddenly feeling self conscious that she put you on the spot. you give him a light wave, and he nods in acknowledgement before turning back to her. the lady pats his shoulder and leaves, and you go back to fumbling with the lock. he walks slowly to his own door, before turning to you— his expression slightly blank as he says something.

his voice is so quiet that you don't hear it at first. your eyebrows rise in question and you look at him, blinking.

"push the key in a little and then twist." he repeats, showing you the gesture with his own key. you look at him, a little confused before letting out an 'oh!' and following his steps— and as expected, the door opens. you turn to him and give him a sheepish smile, "thank you."

he doesn't return the smile but nods nonetheless. he opens his own door and steps inside, and then slams the door behind him, leaving you a little baffled.

you shrug the behaviour off and carry your bag to the bed. the room is clean, but you know exactly how you're going to personalize it so it looks more like you. you got your favourite bedsheets with you and everything, and the idea of decorating gives you a light sense of excitement.

it's when you decide to go to the bathroom that you realize you haven't gotten one of the most important things needed— hand soap. you wince to yourself as you look through your luggage, finding nothing. hesitantly, you look to the door, wondering if you should go out and buy some, or borrow some from your new neighbour, who although being incredibly handsome, also intimidates you slightly. you don't want to disturb him, but it's already late enough— you are too tired to go out.

you knock on his door, biting your lower lip in anticipation. you hope he's not asleep, you'd hate to be the one who wakes him up. he opens the door soon enough, looking you up and down, "can i help you?"

"i'm sorry, i hope you weren't asleep," you give him a polite smile, "i was wondering if i could borrow some handsoap? i forgot to buy some."

he frowns before nodding, closing the door. you fidget with your fingers while you wait, and he opens the door again before handing you a bottle.

you thank him, and he closes the door before you get to say goodnight. you don't allow yourself to think he's rude— you were the one disturbing him, afterall.

the next morning, you're up early. it's a new day of your independence and you want to explore the library before attending classes. you recheck if you have everything before exiting the room— only to be met with your neighbour.

"good morning!" you greet him cheerily, and he nods and replies with a quiet 'morning, kid.'

you figure he's just woken up, judging by the light rasp in his voice. it makes you feel flustered.

"wait— sir, hold on." you say quickly, and rush back inside your apartment. you deliver his handsoap back to him, and he rubs his eyes.

"thank you for this."

"going to college?" he asks, blinking a few times, and you nod. "is it far?"

"half an hour ride from the bus stop," you shift your weight on your feet. "not that far."

"that's good," he frowns, scratching his chin, "study well, kid."

you grin at him, perking up. you introduce yourself to him, and give a light bow. the corner of his mouth curls up slightly.

"i'm inho," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, "get going now, you don't wanna be late."

"oh yes, inho sir." you bow again and quickly rush down the stairs. you're pretty sure you hear him call out something like, 'drop the sir!' but you ignore it with a smile— your day already feeling brighter with the positive interaction, even if it was just polite small talk.

no matter how exhausting classes were, you were insistent on having a pleasant day. you knew the best way to survive any place was by making friends— and for now you didn't have many options other than your older neighbour.

at the bakery, as you eyed all the delicacies— you didn't know what to choose. you didn't know his preferences. does he like sweets? but what if he has diabetes? you immediately push the thought away, and simply stick to some nice bread that you could have with tea. and then while walking back to the bus stop, you buy some fishfood. a google search also lets you know that goldfish quite like frozen peas— so you buy a little of that too.

back in the apartment, you feel a little nervous as you knock on his door. there is no response, and you almost turn around and leave before a voice coming from behind you makes you jump.

"oh my god!" you shriek, twisting around, holding a hand to your chest. inho is standing behind you, looking tired as he gestures you to lower your voice. you immediately clasp a hand over your mouth and bow in apology before straightening up.

"you scared me!"

"forgive me," he blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "did you need something?"

a little distracted by his face, you almost forget what you had to say. but before you could embarrass yourself further, your mind brings you back to earth, "oh! yes— sorry."

"i wasn't sure if you liked sweets so i just got you bread. you know, as a thank you for helping me last night," you awkwardly push the bag towards him, "and uh— i saw you had goldfish so i got some fishfood for them. i also read they liked peas, so."

he looks down at the bag, then at you. you swallow hard, "i didn't poison it, i swear."

that elicits a chuckle out of him, and he gently takes the bag. your fingers brush together, and you try not to chase the warmth of his hand. perhaps, you're a little touch starved.

"there was no need for this," he says kindly. you step to the side to allow him to access his door. "but thank you."

"do you wanna eat together?" you blurt without thinking. "i mean, if you're not busy. no pressure, i'm sure you have things to do but—"

"relax," he gives you a light smile— it makes the cute little crinkles by his eyes more prominent. it's contagious and you smile back. he clears his throat, "there's a park not far from here. would you like to walk with me?"

"yes!" you say a little too excitedly before lowering your voice. "yes— absolutely. hold on."

you recklessly open your door and toss your bag inside. with a glance over your shoulder to ensure he's not looking, you quickly reapply your lipgloss before turning to him and locking the door behind you.

"ready?" he asks, a hint of a smile on his face. his voice is teasing, and you can't help but grin in return.

as the sun set, pink and orange hues danced across your skin like glitter. you could see people walking, chatting; couples holding hands and feeding each other cotton candy. it made your heart pang a little, so you redirected your attention to the sky, where birds seemed to be flocking back to their homes. you would've taken a picture, but you decided against it.

"have you been here long?" inho asks, and you turn to see his eyes looking at you intently. "liking it so far?"

"just a few months," you answer politely, walking with a skip in your step. he doesn't realize how grateful you are that he's talking to you— you've felt rather lonely these past few weeks. "i got a scholarship and the opportunity was too good to miss. it's really nice, much better than my hometown, i'd say. i'm relieved to be here, even though it's taking some time to adjust."

"you can come to me if you need anything," he says softly, and you give him a grateful nod, gaze full of barely disguised admiration.

"thank you, i appreciate it."

"and your family?" he asks again, his hands clasped behind his back. he looks so authoritative this way, you think, he's actually adorable. and kind.

"they're back home," you twist around and walk backwards, facing him as you mimic his stance. hands behind your back. he smiles at your antics and it makes your heart skip a beat. "i talk to them regularly."

"that's good." he hums, nodding, a glint in his eyes. "kids don't realize how much parents worry. make sure you don't mix with the wrong crowd."

"noted, sir." you tease, and he snorts.

"drop the 'sir,' will ya?"

"only if you drop the 'kid,' sir."

that makes him laugh, and you feel a strange sense of pride at your little achievement. the park is pleasant, and you're more amazed by how well maintained it is. he mindlessly guides you to a bench with a light touch on your waist, and your stomach feels tingly at the action.

he brings out the bag, tears the bread in half and gives you the bigger one, despite your protests.

"those flowers are so pretty," you point towards a flower bed, and he hums nonchalantly.

"never met a girl who doesn't like flowers."

"what's not to like?" you shift to face him properly, "they maintain this park really well. it's very clean."

"i suppose we do value cleanliness a lot," he looks around, his cheeks puffing up like a squirrel as he eats. it looks so utterly cute, you would have cooed if you had no social cues. "i remember seeing them plant those last year. some kids accidentally skated over the left side and had to pay a fine."

"ouch," you wince, eyebrows furrowing. "say, sir, what do you do for work, if you don't mind me asking?"

he stiffens slightly and stops chewing. you contemplate killing yourself right there out of sheer dramatics— you don't want to make him uncomfortable because this is your only chance at developing a relationship with someone that is not your pillow or your phone.

"i was a police officer," he answers, swallowing his food. he claps the dust off, wipes his hand on his pants after, "retired."

"retired?!" you gasp unintentionally, "you don't look that old."

he throws his head back and laughs— his eyes crinkling. you're mesmerized, the mere sound of it making your heart feel warm. which, you think, is not normal. not after interacting with someone who is still a stranger.

"how old do you think i am?" he asks between chuckles.

you give him a sheepish smile, delaying your response by choosing to finish the bread first. "i'd say.. late thirties or early forties."

he winces with a groan, dramatically clutching his heart, "try late forties. almost fifty."

it makes you fucking giggle— like some lovesick fool. a schoolgirl with a crush. it's so embarrassing, but you decide to let yourself have this one thing— to enjoy a conversation without thinking about how stupid or obvious you might look to the outsider.

"you don't look that old!" you protest, "seriously! plus, you're pretty fit for your age!"

the last comment was not something you had decided to say, but you're bad at thinking before speaking. you prefer to be just as shocked at your responses as the other person.

"you think i'm fit?" he asks a little teasingly— there's a smug smile on his face, and you feel idiotic. of course, a man like him would know he's fit. he's handsome, he must hear it everyday. he must be so amused that you decided to state the obvious. and you clear your throat, your cheeks suddenly feeling hot. you're sure you can hear your ears ringing— and you swallow the embarrassment.

"you know you're fit." you huff softly, and he shakes his head. his smile only grows bigger as he looks away, instead choosing to watch the sky darken.

you're glad he doesn't say much after, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence. you hope it is comfortable for him, atleast, because there's a storm brewing in your head— berating you for being so obvious. perhaps, you need to find a boyfriend soon, or your little impulsive comments would get you in trouble. you don't even know if the man is single, for god's sake. your eyes drift down to his hands— no ring.

"you live alone?" you blurt out again, despite your better judgement. it's such a stupid question— the apartment rooms are tiny, of course he lives alone. are you stupid?!

he turns to look at you, eyebrow quirked. the air feels heavy now, because he looks tense again, almost thoughtful.

"yes," he nods, frowning slightly. his lips quirk down, and he swallows hard. "my wife passed away a few years back."

"oh." shit, you think to yourself. way to go, idiot. "i'm so sorry."

"it's fine," he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

you straighten up, "if there's anything i can do—"

he stands up abruptly, adjusts his pants. your eyes drift down a little before you physically force them to look up at him again.

"we should get going." he says, rolling his shoulders back. he gives you a hand, "it's getting late. you must have class tomorrow."

'it's sunday,' you almost mumble, but thankfully your mouth keeps shut this time. you shyly take his palm and stand up, and he pulls his hand back to run it through his hair almost awkwardly. you try not to miss the way it felt— which is insane. you shouldn't be thinking this way.

the walk back is relatively silent, and you internally beat yourself up about ruining the mood. you might be overthinking this, but this man genuinely seems nice, and you don't really have anyone else to rely on outside of university.

'if there's anything i can do,' you were saying. what could you have done, you idiot? what were you offering to a widowed man twice your age? fucking dummy.

lost in thoughts as you walk up the stairs, your foot misses a step and you trip. before you can fall, inho is stabilizing you with a swift grab, and you yelp as you crash into him, squeezing your eyes shut. instinctively, you grab his arms as tightly as you can.

"oh god," you take a sharp breath, your head falling forward onto his chest more out of shame than relief. "am i dead?"

"clumsy girl." he chuckles, and you open your eyes, hoping that once you do you'll wake up to your room; concluding this mess as a nightmare.

but no, your vision adjusts and is met with his beautiful face. and he looks amused. you can feel his arm wrapped around your waist— very respectfully even though you wouldn't mind it the opposite way. you feel warm all over and the way you've been acting since you met this man is driving you crazy. perhaps you might have to sleep the bad luck off. he gently lets go of you, and you pull away quickly, cheeks flushed. you lean against the wall, groaning.

"still alive," he remarks playfully. you tiredly run a hand down your face.

"i'll just take a nap." you mumble defeatedly, and he nods. you gesture towards the stairs. "thanks for that."

he steps aside and puts his hands in his pockets, and you fumble with your lock and go into your room as fast as possible— ready to bury your head in pillows and avoid this man as much as possible.

ᥫ᭡.

the first weird instance happened during work. you'd signed up for an internship after college hours— it was more of volunteer work. no actual pay other than some incentives based upon performance, which you were okay with. you just needed some experience for your portfolio. most of it included you getting your seniors coffee, designing posters and promoting new events for college.

you were giving some finishing touch ups for the newest poster for a debate competition when a package was placed before you. you looked up at your classmate, confused.

"these are for you." she said.

you frowned, looking at the package — a bouquet, to be specific. it was nothing too extravagant— but flowers all the same. white jasmines paired with some baby breaths, finished with a little bow.

"who sent these?" you asked, visibly baffled. she shrugged, took one look at your work before walking off. you sat straighter, checking the bouquet for any card— there was nothing.

you were confused as you walked back to the apartment. the flowers were a nice surprise— but they also had you worried. you couldn't help but wonder if it was some guy from work, but you don't remember getting close with anyone, atleast not enough for gifts. your confusion was evident on your face as you reached your door. holding the bouquet in one hand, you fumbled with the lock.

"those are nice," you heard a voice behind you. you turned, a smile appearing on your face at the sight of inho.

"hello!" you greeted, facing him. he glanced at the flowers, gaze unreadable, before turning to you.

"you came later than usual." he remarked casually.

"yeah, i've taken up this internship thing for college." you replied politely, leaning against your door. he nodded in understanding, tilting his head towards the bouquet.

"it's going well, i see."

you chuckled awkwardly, "i don't know where they came from." you glanced at the flowers, leaning in to inhale the scent. "my classmate said these were for me but there was no card. it's weird."

"perhaps it's a secret admirer," he joked dryly, unlocking his own door, "stay safe, kid."

you frowned at his words, nodding, before entering your own room.

the flowers didn't stop after. almost every two days, a new bouquet would appear. it was ridiculous. one day it would be just pretty tulips, the other it would be white clovers. it was driving you absolutely insane. and the worst part was, you had no idea who it was from.

you'd go to class, do your work, take the flowers, and go home. inho would make a joke about you being popular, and you would shrug it off and offer him some tea, and you'd pretend you didn't secretly hope he was the one sending them to you.

"maybe a guy has a crush on you," he'd said once. you were sitting at the stairs, analyzing the flowers as if your stare would prompt them to magically start speaking— these were camellias, as the google search suggested. pink. you'd glared at him tiredly, eyes begging for some answers. from anyone.

he'd raised his hands in defence, chuckling a little. he had taken a seat on the stairs beside you, looking at the flowers himself, eyebrows furrowed in focus and lips drawn into a thoughtful pout.

"did you know camellias express longing?" he stated casually.

you'd looked at him, quirking an eyebrow, "how'd you know that?"

he gave the flowers a somber smile, a dejected look in his eyes. "you learn certain things when you get married."

your curiosity had faded into sadness then. immense melancholy for the kind man sitting beside you.

and because of course, he was thinking of his wife. he'd probably given his wife flowers, adored her with everything he had. kissed her and made love to her, and then life took her from him.

you don't stand a chance. not even in your fantasies.

ᥫ᭡.

you were being watched.

you realized this not long after receiving your first bouquet. few days later, you'd seen a man wearing the same jacket everywhere you went. it was making you feel uneasy. you could never see his face— he would disappear almost instantly after you turned around.

first, you recognised the feeling while shopping for groceries. it made you feel so terrified, you ditched the milk and went straight home.

you'd had to borrow some milk from inho that day, and thankfully he had extra which he generously gave to you. even offered to make you some tea. you didn't know if he noticed your distress, but if he did, you were thankful he didn't ask you about it.

the next, it was during daytime. you were waiting for your bus when you saw the glimpse of that jacket— and once again, it disappeared almost as soon as you recognised it.

it was after the fourth day that you had decided that you'd had enough. you were violently knocking on inho's door— teary eyed and scared out of your mind.

he opened the door, his agitation blending into worry at the sight of your face. he utters your name so softly, and you hold back the urge to scream. "what's wrong?"

"you were a police officer, right?" you look at him, panic stricken. "i think i'm being watched. i don't think— i know i'm being watched. i swear, someone is stalking me, first the flowers—"

"hold on, take deep breaths," he puts his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to breathe along with him. you follow, and feel your heart rate calm down. he looks out into the hallway before stepping aside. "come inside."

reluctantly, you walk into his room. you realize then that it's the first time you've been in his apartment— and the idea, even in your moment of suffering, makes you feel warm. excited, even. there's a few books on his bed, and he puts them aside on his table and makes room for you to sit. you can see the goldfish in the tank, and the packet of fish food you bought for them sits by it.

"i like van gogh too." you mumble shakily, pointing at the book on his desk. he hums, guiding you to sit.

you take a seat on his bed, gaze lowered as you fidget with your hands. he grabs a chair and sits on it, facing you. he spreads his legs, and you have to take a deep breath to focus on the actual problem at hand.

"tell me everything," he says softly, crossing his arms over his chest. his shirt is folded up to his elbows, and you physically force yourself not to stare at the veins mapped across his arms.

"the flowers," you start, "they've gotten more frequent. i don't know who's sending them to me. i've asked everyone at work. i don't even talk to guys that much for any of them to be doing all that. and i've been seeing this guy follow me everywhere—"

"you've seen his face?" he asks, expression serious and focused. he looks even more handsome like this.

you pause, before shaking your head no.

"it's stupid, i know." you protest, leaning forward for emphasis, "it's like— a shadow. i haven't seen his face but i know he's following me. i think he might be behind the flowers too. but i'm just scared— i know i'm being stalked, you have to believe me."

"i do believe you," he shakes his head, leaning forward. his hand reaches out and grabs your own, "but you haven't seen his face, so it'll be hard to catch him. but trust me, i will not let anyone hurt you. do you understand?"

"i'm scared." you admit, voice small. you're a woman and you live alone— you don't have many friends and absolutely no family right now. you don't want to talk to your mother and worry her. you're terrified.

"hey, no tears," he whispers, thumb brushing across your cheek. you almost feel hypnotized at the action— you try not to lean into the comfort of his touch. "you'll be okay, i promise. you're safe with me."

you sniffle as you look at him, your hand limp in his hold. you tear your gaze away and nod, his words making you feel oddly at ease. you fidget with his hand before mindlessly holding his finger, and he smiles softly at that. with his free hand, he pats your head, "i have an idea."

you perk up slightly as you blink at him.

"why don't i pick you up from college?" he says softly, "it's not that far. it's hard to do anything during daytime, but in the evening i can come pick you up if you're scared. he'll see a man with you and back off himself."

you freeze, eyes widening. you can't ask him to do that. you chuckle awkwardly, face flushing as you look at your lap.

"i can't ask you to do that, it's fine."

"are you sure?" he asks, leaning down to make eye contact with you. it makes your heart flutter. "it's no issue for me. i think a walk everyday will keep me even more fit."

you can't help but giggle at that— and he smiles too. he grabs your chin and lifts your head up; and your breath hitches.

"come on, give me a real smile." he urges softly. it's so silly coming from him, that you can't help but grin— your fears temporarily forgotten. he pinches your cheek at that and nods in approval, "there she is."

"stop," you huff half heartedly, playfully slapping his hand away. you wish you could hide in your pillows— or dig a hole for yourself because of how flustered you feel. you can't believe how he could do this to you— it's strange how happy he can make you with just a few words. he tucks your hair behind your ear.

"why don't you have dinner and get some sleep? you must be tired."

you nod, blinking tiredly as you stand up. reluctantly, you let go of his finger, and he stands up as well as he guides you to the door. you look back at him, and he meets your gaze.

"thank you," you whisper softly, "you really made me feel so much better, you have no idea."

"i'm glad." he whispers back, and you just stare at him— at his sweet face and his kind eyes. you swallow hard, and you wonder if you hallucinated his eyes dart to your lips. either way, you push your thoughts aside.

he clears his throat and looks away, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "off you go."

"goodnight," you call back, and he nods with a smile before closing the door.

the next day after college— a miracle happened. a rather good looking classmate of yours approached you and praised you on your work. je-hyun, he introduced himself. he shared a few classes with you, and you remember him asking you for a pencil once. you two ended up bonding over liking the same shows, and he'd asked you if you were single. you two shared numbers, and you gave yourself an imaginary pat on the back.

apparently, the flowers had become a bit of a man repellent. he'd been wary of approaching you because he assumed you had a boyfriend, but you cleared the misunderstanding with a convincing explanation. you didn't want to take any chances.

this time, there were no flowers.

after work, the two of you walk out of the building. he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm, and you turn to him. he opens his mouth to speak before his gaze falls on something over your shoulder, and he freezes.

you frown, looking over your shoulder in return.

inho greets you, getting off the wall he was leaning against with a cheery smile. you look at him, baffled.

"hey! uh—" you look at your— date? coworker? before turning to inho, "inho sir! what are you doing here?"

inho glances at je-hyun as well, eyes darting up and down indifferently before he turns to you. he smiles, patting your shoulder. "i had some work nearby so i thought i'd pick you up. especially seeing how scared you were last night. is that okay?"

he was so considerate— it immediately made your heart melt. you almost forgot about your date by your side, and you turned to him apologetically. you could always meet with je-hyun, but you cannot ask inho to go home after he took some time out for you. your decision is immediate. "i'm sorry, i should get going. see you tomorrow?"

je-hyun gave you a tight lipped smile, nodding. "see you, goodnight." he looked at inho warily, giving him a slight bow out of respect. you didn't get to see inho's response before he was wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragging you away.

"i'm assuming that's the flower kid," he remarked casually, a small grin on his face as he walked straight ahead. you stumbled a little with his pace, but shook your head.

"no, i don't think that's him. he assumed i had a boyfriend because of the flowers," you smile slightly, thinking back to the conversation.

"you can't be sure with boys like him," he muttered, putting his hands in his pockets. you immediately started missing the feeling of his arm wrapped around you. you feel insane for even thinking this way. especially considering you have a potential? love interest— someone your age.

"i can't believe you really came to pick me up," you change the topic, looking up at him. he doesn't know if the stars in your eyes are a reflection of the lights or your admiration. "you didn't have to."

"i know i didn't have to," he smirked slightly, looking around. "but like i said, i was in the area. and i didn't feel right leaving you by yourself. who knows what could happen to a little girl like you?"

the last line was teasing, and you gave him a little push for that. of course, he was unphased. but for the sheer dramatics, he pretended to be hurt— clutching his side and groaning like he had been shot. it makes you giggle, and you hide your mouth behind your hand, internally berating yourself for acting like a fool again. he chuckles before stopping you and dragging you back, "let's have dinner before we get back. you must be hungry."

you blink, your heartbeat suddenly rising. like a date? you wanted to ask, but decided against it. of course it's not a date. he could be your father, for god's sake. he's old enough. and his heart belongs to someone else. you doubt he'd ever think about dating someone like you. it sounds like a far fetched dream.

you nodded, shaking your thoughts off. "yeah, that sounds good."

and that entire night, you didn't feel the eyes of the stalker, nor the fear, even once.

ᥫ᭡.

you got the flowers again. yellow hyacinths paired with deep red roses— the colors creating a striking contrast against each other. so bright, it almost blinded your eyes. salient as the emotions the flowers represent— you feel like whoever is sending you these, is not happy with you.

"who keeps sending these?" the voice makes you jump, and you turn to see je-hyun standing over you. he narrows his eyes playfully. "is there an obsessed ex i should be worried about?"

you wave his concerns off, chuckling awkwardly, "none." you bite your lower lip, looking at the object of your torment placed on the table. you bite down on the end of your pen, thinking. "i'm actually worried. i haven't even met anyone who would do this."

"what about that strange man who came to pick you up?" he remarks offhandedly— and you almost take offense to his words.

"that's inho-sir. and he's not strange," you say a little too sharply, surprising even yourself, "he's my neighbour and he used to be a police officer. he came to pick me up because i was scared. he's very kind and would never do something like this."

"got it." je-hyun could sense your sudden hostility, and he tries to lighten up. "so he's like your dad?" he jokes, and you chuckle at that, giving him a shove with a huffed 'shut up.'

he asks you out to a party after, and you tell him to pick you up at nine.

the journey back home was tantalizing once again— there was a seed of dread brewing inside you. you felt increasingly scared as you travelled, so you picked crowds in hopes of blending in. you wished you had inho with you right now.

you took a nap after work and immediately got ready. you didn't have a lot of party wear with you, you don't like the overwhelming crowds or noises. you're easy to overstimulate, so you tend to stay away from parties. they're always much more bearable with people you know better, anyway. but you make do with what you have, and your lip gloss saves the day as always. there's a knock on your door and you open it to je-hyun looking cute as ever— with his boyish, dimpled smile.

"i wanted to bring you flowers," he says innocently, holding out a box, "but i feel like you're traumatized by them so i got chocolate inst—"

he doesn't get to finish his sentence before you're letting out the most ridiculous laugh ever. he's adorable, and this alone has made you like him so much. you compose yourself, stand straighter and place a kiss upon his cheek— leaving an imprint of your lipgloss on his skin. he blushes, and you grin. "thank you—"

"date night?"

you both turn around to the voice— inho has stepped out of his room, looking cozy and fresh. wearing a sweater vest over a crisp white shirt, finishing with a large black coat. he looks so... soft and gentle. it almost distracts you.

you bite your lower lip, suddenly feeling flustered. his gaze is unreadable as it drags down your body— and out of respect, you adjust your dress a little.

"i'm je-hyun," your date takes the initiative to introduce himself, bowing deeply. there's slight humour in his voice, "you must be her father—"

you elbow him in the ribs, and he doubles over. inho lets out a snort, looking down. you notice he doesn't introduce himself in return. he clenches his jaw, tongues his cheek before looking at you with a glint in his eyes. you wonder if he looks angry, but you can't really tell. it wouldn't make sense anyway.

"going somewhere?" you ask, voice a little high pitched out of sheer nervousness. you don't know why, but you feel rather awkward. you don't understand why you feel like you're betraying him, in a way. perhaps it's because inho has quite literally been the only man you've been regularly interacting and engaging with so far. that's why standing with another guy in front of him feels so... strange. no other reason.

he clears his throat and nods, "out for drinks with an old colleague." he frowns after, cocks his head towards your legs. your dress is not really short, it comes to your knees. but you still feel exposed in front of him.

"don't you feel cold?"

"i'll wear a coat," you tell him, snatching your coat off from where it was hanging behind your door. "well— um. see you."

inho is the first to leave— after giving your date an up and down look of what you can only consider disgust or disapproval. je-hyun pouts a little as he straightens up, before grabbing your hand and dragging you down the stairs.

the party fucking sucks. the noises are too loud, the lights are too flashy, and everyone is drunk. you don't understand their drunken rambles, and you almost tripped twice. you've stumbled into atleast three couples making out, and you don't know how to dance without looking stupid.

je-hyun had kissed your cheek before going off to get drinks. a sprite for you, as you'd demanded. except he never returned. you know life isn't a movie, but at this moment, you'd rate yours a solid 1.5 stars.

a girl accidentally steps on your foot and you wince, hopping on one leg as you go out the back door. there, you put on your coat tighter around yourself, shaking as you glare at the wall in front of you.

you could really use a cigarette. and you don't even smoke.

you bring out your phone and shoot je-hyun a text. it is left on delivered, and you grunt in irritation before looking to the side.

defeated, angry and hurt at being abandoned, you immediately choose to leave. you hold back the urge to send je-hyun a text calling him an absolute dick, and try not to make eye contact with anyone as you walk down the road. it's late, the sky is dark and you have another fear on your mind right now. you look out for a taxi— but none come to your rescue. your luck has run out.

you mutter all sorts of curses to yourself on the way back— until you hear footsteps. you pause, suddenly feeling that same dread seize you again.

you're being followed.

you start walking quickly, and the prickling sensation of being watched doesn't leave. you turn around abruptly — and there's no one there, except from a few friend groups walking out of the club. you pick up your pace and start jogging back, looking around for taxis. you can see the park near your apartment in the distance — and you let out a breath of relief.

you hear a little 'meow,' and you immediately turn around. you love cats— you've been dying to have one. despite your better judgement, you walk closer to the dark alley the voice came from. a kitten is there, meowing at you. your heart melts into a puddle and you coo, instantly following it. you look around, there's no stores nearby, or you would've bought it some food. you gently pick it up, scratching it's ears.

"its my cat."

there's a shabby man standing in front of you— reeking of alcohol and trash. you freeze, looking at him awkwardly as you let go of the cat. his eyes trail down, settle on the silver of your skin peeking out from under the coat. instinctively, you wrap it tighter around yourself, and he steps forward, grinning.

"i have more! do you want to see?"

you give him an awkward, polite smile. in situations like these, its best to subtly pull yourself away. you take a step back and shake your head, "no, thank you."

"it won't take long," he convinces, a hand reaching out. "you could even take one with you—"

you're turning around to run, but his hand grabs your arm and drags you closer. you scream, but he shushes you, pinning you to the wall. you feel like throwing up. you raise your knee and kick him in the shin, and he lets go of you. you quickly start dashing off, but your heel oh so conveniently breaks and you trip. you fall face first onto the floor and his hand grabs your leg and starts dragging down.

you let out a shriek and kick at his arm, but he's lunging at you, trying to grab your face with his dirty hands. you take that moment to release your frustrations of the day upon him— with all the strength you can muster, you pull your head back before crashing it against his face.

"you bitch!" he screams and so do you— and he falls back, clutching his bleeding nose. he tries to lunge at you again, but you scream as loud as you can, trying to crawl away from him.

someone grabs you and starts pulling you up, and out of reflex you thrash and try to hit the other person. your wrist is clasped firmly in a bigger hand, and the sight of inho's face immediately fills you with relief. he helps you up, and before you can express gratitude, he's pushing you back and moving forward.

you flinch at the sound of the first kick. it happens so fast that you don't even realize it— your eyes widen as inho kicks the man over and over again. the sound of his bones cracking fills your ears, and you almost gag at the sight of the blood mixing with the dirty ground. inho looks unphased for the most part— except he's panting, and his hair is falling across his forehead. sweat runs down the side of his face, and he wordlessly turns around, eyes cold in a way that is foreign to you.

perhaps it's the shock of the sudden turn of events, but you can't speak. all you can think about is the rage that is so prominently etched onto his beautiful face, and how easily he stomped on that man like he was nothing. and how thankful you are that he showed up somehow when you needed him. after your date abandoned you. like magic.

he walks up to you, and you let out a shaky breath before allowing your head to fall onto his chest. he squeezes his eyes shut and pats your back, before cupping your cheeks and lifting your head up. he analyzes your face, gently caresses the new scratches on your chin before his gaze drops to your shoes— a broken heel and multiple scratches on your knees.

"are you okay?" he asks softly, and you hold his palm, ensuring it stays pressed against your cheek. you look at him like he's your only saviour— and you feel that way too. your lips wobble and he looks away.

"tired." you mumble— throat feeling dry. you feel dizzy, and your legs hurt. you're pretty sure you feel like throwing up too.

wordlessly, he bends down slightly, gestures towards his back with a tilt of his head. "come on."

you hesitate, looking at him with shock, before gently allowing your front to splay across his back. you link your arms around his shoulders, and he wraps his hands around your legs. he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you lean your weight into him, resting your head along his shoulder. he shifts slightly so you're more comfortable, his hold on you steady and confident. one of your shoes drop, and you don't look back at it. you don't care anyway.

you hear another faint meow before the kitten is out of earshot.

you resist the urge to cry as he carries you up the stairs. you sniffle, burying your head in his back, deeply inhaling the comforting smell of the man you've started associating with home. your legs dangle off his sides and your heart feels heavy. his silence makes you feel so eternally grateful.

you don't know how you got lucky enough to have someone like him by your side.

he doesn't even put you down when you reach your apartment— merely mumbles a soft, "keys?" and you straighten up slightly, shuffling in your coat pocket before leaning forward to open the lock— unable to resist the urge to chuckle just slightly at how endearing this whole situation is, despite everything.

he takes you inside, and your cheeks flush slightly. your clothes are all over the bed— thanks to your indecisiveness while getting ready for the date. he gently places you down on the floor, and you sniffle, quickly covering the clothes with a blanket— eliciting a snort out of him.

"why were you coming home alone?" is the first question he asks. "what happened to the kid you were with?"

"I don't know," you whisper, looking away. you suddenly feel embarrassed— how immature, how careless je-hyun looks in front of a man like inho. you never should've went on that date. "he just.. he disappeared at the party."

he clenches his jaw, his hands resting on his hips as he looks to the side. there's another vein popping in his neck— and if you had the guts, you'd lean up and kiss it.

"that little boy—" he spits with vitriol, the words coming from a deep place of resentment. he takes a deep breath, tries to calm himself, "he never should've left you alone. you should've never decided to walk home alone. why didn't you take a taxi?"

you swallow hard— he certainly doesn't make you miss your father. he's doing his job for him.

"there were no taxis."

"why didn't you just call me?" he asked again, stepping forward, eyebrows raising. "i could've come picked you up."

you pause. you didn't know that was an option. you really didn't think of it.

"I don't know." you replied lamely.

"didn't you say you have a stalker?" he snaps, "how can you be so careless?"

"i really don't want a lecture right now," you reply dejectedly, looking away. your voice lowers to a mumble as you rub your arm. "tonight has been harsh enough."

his face softens and he sighs, running a hand through his hair. he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, squeezes his eyes shut before looking at you again.

"forgive me." he says earnestly, tilting his head, "i worry about you."

you nod, fidgeting with your coat. he watches you silently before stepping back.

"you should take a warm shower. i'll grab the first aid and take care of that." he gestures towards his chin, and the sting on your own chin starts to settle in.

this time, you don't argue. you toss your coat to the side, grab your toiletries, don't even bother asking him to leave before you go into the bathroom and wipe the memories of this night off you.

inho is waiting on your bed when you return. you hope he didn't hear the sound of you crying— it was rather pathetic. your skin is flushed with how much you scratched it, and worst of all, you ended up gently banging your forehead against the cold wall over how badly your date went. your fault for thinking you could have a positive experience with a man.

you clutch your bathrobe tightly, the water from your hair soaking through the towel. you put it down, and he gets up from the bed and pats down the empty space, telling you to sit down.

you notice your bed looks a little neater than you left it. your clothes are folded nicely by the corner and your bedsheet is straightened properly. it makes you blush, and you give him a sheepish look. he doesn't acknowledge it as he kneels before you.

"you don't have to—" you start, half heartedly.

"let me."

his voice is soft yet so firm, you end up following through. there is nothing wrong with wanting to be taken care of by a man like him. you shift slightly, hoping that he takes the flush of your cheeks as an effect of your warm shower.

he settles your leg on his thigh, and shifts your bathrobe just slightly so your knee is exposed. he examines it before applying some ointment on it. the touch of his gentle fingers almost has you whimpering— but you clear your throat and fidget nervously with your fingers. he grabs hold of your ankle, looking thoughtful as his thumb brushes across your skin.

the silence between you two feels heavy and suffocating. the tension could be cut with a knife— and the way he touches you is so intimate, it makes you want to climb into his arms and just cling to him till you fall asleep.

thankfully, he makes the decision for you. he places your feet back down and straightens slightly, wordlessly applies some cream on your chin too. it stings a little but it's bearable. he hums, closes the box and puts it aside.

as you open your mouth to speak, you can hear multiple notifications coming through your phone. his eyes snap up, and so do yours— you reach out and grab it out of your coat pocket, and he glares at it as you check.

"is it the boy?" he asks.

you bite your lip, glancing at the multiple texts of je-hyun apologizing through the notification panel. you're bitter, and you don't want to respond, not right now. inho grabs your hand, takes your phone away and places it by your side.

"you shouldn't go back to him," he advices quietly. there's an intensity in his eyes, an emotion that is hard to read. "after tonight, he's proven he's not worth your time. he abandoned you."

you bite your lower lip. he's right— but then again, a part of you wants to ask. so who should i go to? who is worth my time?

you clear your throat and shift on the bed.

"thank you for tonight," you whisper instead, allowing yourself more time to think about how to deal with je-hyun.

"thank you?" he chuckles, amused, "you'd taken care of that guy pretty well yourself. i just finished the job."

"but still," you protest, feeling a sense of pride at his comment. "he would've grabbed me again if you hadn't come."

he snorts, looking down at his lap. and your words remind you of an important question.

"how'd you know i needed help?"

he tenses, his eyes snapping up to yours again. you can't tell what he's thinking, but he merely chuckles, "i was walking in the park when you screamed. immediately alerted me." he raises a finger to his ear. "policeman instinct."

you laugh at that. his explanation makes sense. of course he has a policeman instinct. you wouldn't expect anything else.

he stands up, groaning as he stretches a little. the action makes his sweater rise up, revealing a silver of his tummy— and your eyes dazedly drop down, glancing at it with barely disguised hunger, until he's relaxing again. you snap yourself out of your trance and cough, looking away.

he looks down at you, all tired eyes and soft hair. in moments like these, you think of how sweet he looks. so gentle, and kind, and caring. sweet mister inho, who has been so generous, protecting you, caring for you, wanting nothing in return. who gave you a piggyback ride home when you felt like you would pass out from terror, who put cream on your wounds with the tenderness of a parent or a lover.

perhaps it's that sentiment, your touch starved nature, or your horrible day that prompted you to do it. or lust from that little glimpse of his skin. either way, you're fucked. you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist, immediately burying your head in his stomach as you whisper thank yous to him— clinging to him like a lifeline.

he stumbles back in shock, stiffens slightly before relaxing— awkwardly shifting to accommodate you. he laughs slightly, and the rumble sends happy vibrations through your whole body. his hand settles on your head, gently playing with your hair.

"i told ya," he said gently, an amused smile on his face. "i won't let anyone hurt you."

a little embarrassed, you let go of him, pulling away and tucking your hair behind your ear.

"sorry," you mumble sheepishly.

"it's fine," he nods, taking a deep breath. he adjusts his sweater, looks around before giving you another smile. he pats your head. "get some sleep, okay? it's late. i'll check on you tomorrow."

you nod, and he leaves. you bite your lower lip as you replay the hug, and don't find the effort to get up and dress yourself before you're squealing into your pillow— all thoughts of je-hyun forgotten temporarily.

you don't see je-hyun in classes the next day, but he comes to work after college. the first thing he does is approach you, even when you push your head into your tablet while trying to imply how you absolutely do not want to talk to him.

"i can explain," he says with worry, "someone drugged me. i didn't want to leave you alone. i swear, i woke up in the toilet hours after. first thing i did was text you."

you sigh, rolling your eyes as you looked at him boredly, "drugged? that's the excuse you're going with?"

"why would i ditch you on purpose!" he hisses, leaning down. your argument gathers the attention of a few of your coworkers, and your senior warns you to get back to work. you sigh and look away from him.

"whatever it is—" you begin as politely as you can, "I don't think i'm ready to date. so maybe you should just—"

he sighs your name in agitation, and you quirk your eyebrow at him.

"you're really giving up on me after one fuck up?" he asks, frowning, "which wasn't even my fault? i was drugged—"

"i almost got assaulted on the way back," you hiss, standing up abruptly. your noses press together, and you pull back the moment his eyes drift to your lips. you pinch the bridge of your nose, before tilting your chin up and pointing at the bandage. he blinks, gaze filled with guilt. you sigh.

"maybe we could give it a go after some time if you're still interested, but i don't think i have the patience for this right now. last night was really hard on me. can you respect that?"

he looks like a kicked puppy at your words, but he steps back nonetheless. he clenches his jaw as he nods— before leaving you alone for the rest of the day.

the feeling of being watched has numbed you. you try not to care on your way back home— you have too much to do to care about that anyway. your dress from last night and your coat got dirty, so it seems like the perfect time to have a laundry day.

it's only when you're gathering all your clothes that you realize what's wrong.

your clothes are missing.

a pair of panties and your favourite camisole top. it's pink and has a little bow in the middle and you remember bringing it very clearly because you have taken a billion pictures in it. you wore them two days back— and tossed them carelessly in the laundry basket. you check once, and twice.

they're missing.

your first thought immediately goes to the stalker. is there any way he found your home? came into your room? stole your undergarments like a fucking sicko?

your second thought feels a little.. illegal to say the least. but.. inho wouldn't do something like that, would he? no, he's a good guy. a kind, rule following member of society. he used to be a police officer, for fuck's sake. he wouldn't do something like that, would he?

you can't lie, the idea that he could makes something in your stomach flip.

you can't go and straight up ask him, 'hey mister, did you take my panties?' so you do the next best thing. you devise a plan to be alone in his room.

you put on your best panic stricken expression as you knock on his door, and he opens almost immediately. his face falls into one of concern as he looks you up and down, "what's wrong—"

"i need pads," you say sheepishly, biting your lower lip as you step into his room. he doesn't protest as he looks at you. "i got my period and i don't have any and it hurts to go to the store. inho sir, could you please go buy me some? please?"

for added effect you let out a groan, holding your stomach as you fall onto his bed. you lie in a fetus position, and the worry etched onto his face almost makes you laugh.

"do you need anything else?" he asks, grabbing his wallet. you shake your head no, release another groan before he's slamming the door behind him as he leaves.

you wait for a few minutes— until you can hear the sound of his footsteps going down the stairs and fading away. you get up quickly then, look around his room with your heart pounding against your chest.

the first place you look is his cupboards— only his clothes to be found. you rip off his blanket and look under the pillows, searching desperately. you almost feel bad— he seems like such a good man, and you're taking advantage of his kindness by doubting him like this. you almost stop and leave, before the sight of his laundry basket has you pausing.

you look at the door before turning back and approaching it. you sit on the floor and shuffle through it, but you can't find a glimpse of your undergarments anywhere. you can find his though— and it makes you blush slightly.

you find his shirt then— white and plain and you remember him wearing it under his sweater last night. with shaky hands, you bring it out. biting your lower lip, against your morals, you clutch it and bring it up to your nose, inhaling the scent of his collar. it smells of him— of sweat and his cologne and it almost makes you moan.

like the fucking sicko you were worried about, you bury your face in it, your legs shaking as you lean further into it. another whimper escapes you. your eyes squeeze shut, and your mind starts flashing images of him, of his arms, of the vein in his neck, of his hair, of his smile—

it's been established already that your luck is horrible. that's why you don't realize it when the door opens and inho stands there, frozen, watching you sniff his clothes like a junkie. he drops the bag, and you freeze, your eyes immediately snapping open.

the way dread settles in your stomach is comical. you don't want to turn around, more so because it would mean acknowledging what you've been doing. he takes your name, and you turn ever so slowly, his shirt still clutched in your hands, pressed against your nose. as reality sets in, you're quickly tossing it back in the laundry basket and standing up like you've been electrocuted.

"i-it's not what it looks like—"

he doesn't say a word as he slams the door shut, very pointedly locking it. it sends a shiver of thrill up your spine, and he closes in on you ever so slowly as you try to explain yourself.

"i was just—" you're stuttering, voice breathless out of shame. you take a step back. "i was looking for something and i thought you had it and—"

he's just nodding patiently as you speak, eyebrows furrowed with mock sympathy. his hand suddenly shoots up to grab your neck, and your breath hitches as he pushes you against the wall.

"i thought you took my panties," you explain quickly, visibly panicking. "i couldn't find them and you were the only one who came into my room—"

"that's why you were sniffing my shirt like a little pervert?" he asks calmly, voice hushed, his mouth curling into an amused smirk. "because you couldn't find your panties?"

"sir—" you gasp, eyes fluttering as his hand squeezes slightly. your legs tremble, and you grab his wrist. "i didn't mean to—"

"dirty girl," he chuckles. before you can speak further, he's grabbing your waist, twirling you around and shoving you onto his bed. you fall upon it with a surprised gasp, and he climbs onto you effortlessly, caging you between his arms. "you think i don't understand the way you look at me with those pretty little eyes? like you're begging me to fuck you into the mattress?"

"oh fuck," you moan, your back arching off the bed. his mere voice has you feeling stupid. your lips wobble as you look at him pleadingly— licking your lips. "please—"

"yeah— like this," he chuckles, giving your cheek a little slap. it barely registers. doesn't hurt at all, feels like a little tap. but the action enough elicits the most desperate moan out of you, and he squeezes your cheeks, leaning down dangerously. "like a little slut."

you whine, biting your lower lip as you try to catch his lips. he merely laughs mockingly, shakes his head as he pouts playfully, "what? you want a kiss?"

you try to nod as best as you can, and he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth teasingly before letting go. you whine again, your hands holding onto his back— clutching the material of his sweatshirt with a desperation you didn't know you could feel.

"i knew you were a little messed up," he grunts, prying your thighs apart with his knees, before settling his hips upon yours. you can feel the bulge in his pants so evidently, and it makes you moan. with a warning glare, he squeezes your cheeks harder, making your lips pucker up. it makes him chuckle, and he gives your head a little shake. "giving your little 'fuck me' eyes to a man my age. do you act like this with everyone? with that fucking boy from college?"

his voice gets louder, harsher with his words and you shake your head desperately. his hips press against yours, and he starts grinding them against your clothed pussy— making you whine.

"j-just you—" you mumble, but he doesn't let you finish. his mouth is crashing onto yours, one hand grabbing your neck again and the other going under your waist, holding you in place.

the kiss leaves you breathless. teeth and tongue slam together, and you moan needily as he grinds against you, the action making a damp patch appear on the front of your pyjamas. your legs wrap around his waist and he grunts, his hips faltering slightly from shock before he continues, cocking his head to the side to access your mouth better.

your hand comes up to his hair, feeling the softness of it. he grabs it, brings your other one up too and holds both of your wrists in a massive palm— before raising them over your head and keeping them in place. he rises over you, his hips thrusting against yours, and you look at him dazedly. strings of your combined saliva separate and drip down your chin, and you blink.

"please inho sir—" you whimper, your hands twisting in his hold. "slap me again, please."

there's a glimpse of shock in his eyes but it goes away just as quickly. you don't even get to expect how fast his hand pulls back and strikes against your face— but you moan at the contact. it's harder than before and it stings, and it leaves the most delicious pain in it's wake. you almost hope it leaves a little print for you to wake up to tomorrow.

"god, you're a mess," he laughs breathlessly, grabbing your hair. you give him an almost drunken smile— your lips puffy and swollen, hips rising up to press needily against his bulge.

"my little mess—" he groans before gently slapping you again, and you whine, chasing his mouth with your own. he leans forward and silences you with the kiss you were so desperately begging for.

he's pulling back suddenly, a hand digging into his pockets. your eyes flutter open and before you know what's happening— he's stuffing your missing panties in your mouth. it baffles you— and he laughs at the way your eyes widen. he doesn't allow you to move as his hand slips inside your pyjama, immediately rubbing your clit.

the sudden stimulation doesn't allow you to dwell on the matter for long. so he did steal your panties— and you cannot question him, because you quite literally did the same thing. how can you call him out, when you were sniffing his worn shirt like a fucking pervert, yourself? he knows that too, judging by the glint in his eyes— as if he's daring you to attack him. you barely get to protest as you writhe under him, and he rubs your clit till you cum all over his hand— your loud moans muffled by your panties.

he pulls his hand out and licks your juices off with the nastiest slurp, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. you tremble in his hold, before he's hovering over your chest, his thighs caging you in. he looks down at you smugly, pulling his leaking cock out of his pants. your mouth immediately waters— it's thick and darker than the rest of him, and the tip is flushed red. he doesn't allow you to sit up, keeps it conveniently out of your reach as he begins stroking it, hand moving up and down with a soft, wet shlick.

your pleading is silenced by your panties. you desperately try to push them out of your mouth, to reach up and touch him, but he's restrained you too efficiently. he throws his head back, lets out a soft, raspy moan. drops of his precum land on your face as he furiously jerks off over you, his movements getting faster. your eyes flutter, and he cums with a throaty groan, his entire body tensing— splatters of his cum falling upon your mess of a face.

there's tears in your eyes as you look up at him, and he chuckles. he lets go of your hands, and you immediately toss your panties out and cough. you glance at his softening cock with devastation etched onto your features— before glaring up at him, lips drawn into a sad pout. he laughs at your misery, holds his wet hand out, "come on."

like a fucking puppy, you grab his hand. you don't even understand where this degeneracy is coming from— you don't wish to. you don't care. all you know is you need this man carnally, and you're not going to say no when he's offering himself on a silver platter. with sheer enthusiasm, you start licking his palm, eyes fluttering closed. you lick between his fingers, take two of them in your mouth, making him moan; before he's physically pulling you off him.

you whine in protest, and he pats your cheek while tucking himself back into his pants. you pant heavily as you come down from your high, allowing yourself a moment to think about everything that just happened. your cheek still stings, and you've just experienced what you can only classify as the horniest, hottest moment of your life.

you're so lost in thought that you don't register the moment he pulls you into his bed with him, placing your limp body atop his chest. you were given twin beds in your tiny apartments, but you realize you fit in here pretty well. like a puzzle. he pats your hair and places a soft kiss to your temple. you have many questions, but you don't know where to start.

"so i'm guessing you weren't on your period," he jokes, and you groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as you recall your little excuse. "i think that was smart. you'd make a pretty good investigator. as long as you don't go around sniffing their clothes—"

"shut up." you whine, glaring at him. he chuckles heartily, and your body feels warm. his hand goes down, slaps your ass teasingly.

"so you think i smell nice?"

"i said shut up."

"it's a yes or no question." he cooes, pinching your cheek. you whine, rubbing your cheek against his chest like a cat. yes, asshole. you wanted to say. you smell amazing.

in retaliation, you decide to ask your own question.

"were you jealous of je-hyun?"

he stiffens slightly, and you smirk. gotcha.

"that's a brave accusation." he retorts smoothly.

"it's a yes or no question," you shoot back teasingly, and he looks into your eyes.

"yes."

you pause then, a small smile appearing on your face. "yes? is that why you kept calling him a boy?"

he shrugs, looking up at the ceiling as his fingers run through your hair. "he is a boy. he couldn't take care of you like i could. and you already liked me before you started going out with him."

that punches the breath out of you.

"was i that obvious?" you ask dryly. he smiles, eyes darting down to you. he grabs your chin and tilts your head down, places a soft kiss upon your lips.

"policeman instinct."

ᥫ᭡.

it's a few weeks later that your entire world slips off it's axis. everything was fine with inho— he had taken you out multiple times. bought you cotton candy, kissed the remnants of it off your chin, and you two had walked hand in hand down the streets of seoul, much like the couples you envied on your first walk with him. you remember mostly going to eat spicy food with him because he was lactose intolerant and not a big fan of sweets. he'd even won you a plushie at an arcade that you now cuddle whenever you go to sleep without him. you remember not being scared anymore because you no longer felt the eyes of your stalker, and the only flowers you got were the ones inho would buy for you.

inho hadn't come home for two days and thirteen hours.

you know because you've been counting each hour. there's an unbearable itch in your stomach, and every door opening or closing in the hallway has you jumping and leaving to check. you'd met up with the landlady, insisted that she get someone to go look for him, but she'd merely brushed you off.

your days at work became gloomy and your classmates started to notice. je-hyun got a girlfriend too— one of your seniors. you were happy for him, honestly. but still fucking jealous. you missed your boyfriend, and worst of all, you were worried. he just went away without saying anything, and it filled you with a sense of betrayal.

you were in your own state of denial. no way he could do this to you— give you love and then snatch it away out of nowhere, leaving you empty and cold. you didn't want to believe it. absolutely not.

you were trying to sleep when you heard his name again. you sit up, quickly turning on the lights and jumping to the door.

"—he was supposed to pay his rent a week ago," your landlady says. you open the door and peek out, watch as she guides another man to his door. you wonder if he knows your inho. "i've stopped by everyday since then, but he hasn't come in or picked up his phone. by the way... about his rent... otherwise you'd have to move his stuff out right away—"

the younger guy ensures he'd pay the rent, and you watch curiously as she opens the door for him. "take your time!" she says.

so he definitely knows inho, you think.

you watch with bated breath, only his back being visible to you. you're not sure if you should approach him. suddenly, he's moving, turning around and leaving the apartment as if something came up. you open the door and watch him go— your voice stuck in your throat.

you don't see that guy again. you don't hear from inho again. you don't receive flowers, but the feeling of being watched still remains, although it's less frequent.

three days pass. you're gathering your belongings to leave when je-hyun places a bouquet in front of you. you look up at him, frowning.

"someone left this at the door," he says casually, rubbing the back of his neck. "for you. guess it didn't stop."

he leaves and you frown as you look at the flowers. you hadn't received these in a while. you analyse them— pink carnations paired with some white lilies and forget-me-nots. wrapped up in a white ribbon. you know carnations because they're infamous and can be seen in almost every flower shop. you also know carnations are usually used in weddings. they're a symbol of love and devotion. and forget me nots— there is no need for an explanation. the answer lies in its name. you're pulling your phone out to go through that website— the one that speaks the language of flowers.

perhaps it's your own stupidity for not having realized it before. you're quickly pulling the bouquet forward. no card. there are a myriad of emotions going through you— anger, hurt, and most of all— yearning. your heart yearns for him. it longs for him. your hands tremble as you clutch the edge of the table.

you look at the flowers almost bitterly. you grit your teeth, glaring down at your phone, the website open and displaying words that only evoke feelings of distress out of you. of course, it had to be him. there was no other explanation. flowers symbolizing jealousy right after je-hyun asked you out, you had mentioned how much you liked flowers the day you two went on a walk. them suddenly stopping the day you two started openly dating. you just feel stupid you didn't realize it sooner.

that manipulative prick.

you huff bitterly, your eye twitching as you read the damning text over and over again.

pink carnations — 'ill never forget you.'

inho watches your face through the screen with a glass of whiskey in hand; smiling slightly at the way you glare at him. him as in, the bouquet. he's testing a new thing, trying to see if you've figured it out yet. he's very conveniently placed a camera in this one. if you understand it's him who has been sending you flowers, he's a hundred percent sure you'll take it home and keep it. if you decide to throw it out, that's okay too. the teddy bear he won for you was easy to install a camera in. he gets to see you whenever he wants, even when he's away. watching your sleeping face is rather therapeutic amidst the brutal killings of the players in the games. whenever he starts to miss you, your face is a button away from him. he can't really keep an eye on you at work, but that's alright. he's paid someone to keep watch and make sure you don't find someone else.

it was fun to see the fear etched onto your face whenever you mentioned being stalked— he was the one carrying out the stalking himself, until other duties called. he had to take these measures to ensure he was the only source of your comfort, the only one to rely on. scaring you just a little so it would bring you closer to him. how else would you come to him? you needed a little push. and now he's got you wrapped around his finger, much like you've got him wrapped around yours.

the flowers were just fun. he liked messing with you. a little inside joke with himself— different flowers to express how he felt about you. he wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out. the way they worked to keep most men away was simply an added bonus.

you almost actually getting assaulted was not part of the plan. he'd spiked the kid's drink to make sure he could conveniently step in to save the day— to find you and bring you home. except that disgusting freak of nature decided to lay his dirty hands on you. you don't have to know that he went back to finish the job, that the man is six feet under the ground. much like your dear je-hyun would've been if he hadn't respectfully backed off and gotten himself a girlfriend.

he doesn't think he has anger or jealousy issues, no. he simply does not think that he can live without you anymore. anyone who comes between the two of you, has to go. you're a little naive and easy to manipulate, but it worked in his favour. you trusted him too easily, and he's gotten addicted to the way you make him feel like some hero. he gets to protect you and hold you and forget about everything that he's had to go through. it's a win.

he's seen how miserable you've been without him— the plushie he got you has been spending more time in your arms than your phone, which he thinks is a good development.

you miss him, and he misses you too.

he can judge by the clench of your jaw that you've figured out he was the one behind the flowers. the thought makes him snort slightly. he tilts the glass, glancing down at the clear fluid, before looking up at your face.

you've pulled back. you're picking the bouquet up, and carrying it out. you cross the trash can— and you don't throw it out.

you're taking it home.

a pleased smirk curls upon his face and he nods to himself, taking the remote and turning on his music box.

the notes of 'fly me to the moon' wraps around him like a comforting blanket. he's gonna take this as a hint. if you're taking this bouquet home even after realizing he's the one behind the flowers, it must mean you accept him. and he can make do with that.

you're young and impressionable, and you follow what he says. he could share his ideas with you, see how you react.

and perhaps the next time he sees you, he'll bring you to the games with him.

A/N: this was sooo fun to write!! it took me a few days to finish this and i got so unmotivated because i accidentally deleted a draft at first, but now it turned out so much better than before! i truly hope it doesn't feel rushed or bad, and i know the smut is mid at best but i really tried :( as always feedback is always appreciated, and thank you so much for the support on my fics so far! i love you guys!

tags: @movienerd3000 @testdrivethv @leebyunghunswifey @nerdybarbariancupcake @neganhore @k1ra-park3r @vivdolls @wab-i @stantwicr @creativerambling @yasmim-1007 @makethemgirlsgoloco @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @captaincarmel416 @warlabels @ferrarifinnick @smlbch @izzyyann @meheheasasa @poooopy @endlessfl4mes @selfishlittlebeing @pillowtalk6 @antiromanticbaby

[keferon]

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

___________________

Magical Golem Prowl anyone? ‘,:) This story exists in the same universe as Spellbound au. and Monster hunter au and ties them together so I highly recommend you read all of them.

The fic under the cut⤵️

He seemed to be nothing.

The emptiness that infinitely defined his nonexistent self bounced off the metal plates and glinted in the droplets of still-warm energon. He was nothing, but there was so much around him that the space was like an infinite buzz of cluttered noise. The voices above him sounded excited. The metal slab beneath him was cold and hard.

“Good. Now you need to put a piece of your armor on this. Somewhere it will be in plain sight and easily reachable.”

“Oh...wouldn't it make more sense to hide it under the armor? I mean, it's an obvious weak point.”

He idly thought, his hands felt numb.

“No no, that's the whole point. You're using an artifact you haven't fully studied and you don't know exactly how it's going to turn out. If it goes crazy and becomes dangerous, you should have an easy way to destroy it. Where's the artifact by the way?”

The tinkling of metal.

The sound of a crystal clattering against armor.

Warm hands on his head.

“Here.”

“Excellent. Now. This will be the base on which the entire spell will be held, so you want to hide this artifact very well and secure it carefully so it doesn't break by mistake.”

Did he have hands too? He was nothing, why did he have hands? It didn't make sense.

Orion took a couple steps away from the table and stood pensively.

“I've done something wrong again. It's not moving.”

There was a lot of stuff spread out in front of him. Old spare parts, pieces of armor, tools. Lots of warped plates.

And his creation. A real golem. An entity woven of metal and magic.

Shockwave, hitherto distracted by an almost invisible spot on his shoulderplate, glanced leisurely over Orion's shoulder

“Golems don't need much to function. You made a good shell. The magical structure is strong as well, I see.”

Orion hesitantly pointed to the golem's forehead, decorated with a neat sharp chevron.

“I added some things that weren't in your instructions and I think I made a mistake somewhere.”

“Golem making is a complex skill, don't give up if it doesn't work right awa...you know what, actually no, you did everything right.”

Orion shrugged in frustration.

“Then why won't it move?”

Shockwave walked around the table and stopped right above the head of the figure lying on it

“ Golems exist to serve, my friend. It won't move unless you ask it to.”

Orion walked back over to the table with a quiet “oh” and nervously clutched his servos. The figure remained stone still. There was no ventilation noise, no engine sound, not even the barely audible spinning of a spark. It could just as easily have been a long-cooled dead body lying in front of him.

“Wake up.”

The emptiness that forever defined his nonexistent self stammered. He wasn't nothing. He had a purpose and that purpose shaped him, put strength into his numb limbs and molded his lack of thought into naked intent.

He wasn't nothing. He was a void, but suddenly that void had a direction, no matter how meaningless it sounded.

He stopped being just nothing. He became his purpose. And it felt so right that it was unclear how he could ever have been anything else before.

He opened his optics.

Orion, who apparently hadn't expected that the thing he'd made specifically for it to move would move, jerked back with a funny sound.

On the opposite side, Shockwave nodded proudly, returning to the spot on his armor that even in the bright lights of the workshop only he could see.

“I believed in you.”

_________

“Oh my god! How do you sneak up on me so quietly every time?”

He wasn't nothing anymore. He was a whole long list of instructions and rules. His creator sat him down at a table and meticulously listed everything he could and could not do. Handed him many books and ordered him to attend a huge number of lectures. He now knew who to bow to if he passed them in the hallway and who to avoid. He had learned hundreds of names and thousands of titles. Learned how to pretend to be a real Mech, even though he wasn't.

The world around him was complex and confusing, but he found that this complexity had its own patterns, linked together in a bizarre web of systems and sequences. It was worth pulling on the right end, and the meaningless facts organized themselves into something much more manageable.

Everything made sense. The planet revolved around a star. Mechs rejoiced when they got something that improved their quality of life. Energon burned, producing energy. Big things tended to be heavier than small things.

The world was divided into Mechs and monsters...and him.

He was inclined to be...quiet.

His creator - he'd asked to be called Orion - twitched when he found his creation standing right behind him.

He was very talented at finding Orion wherever he was. And very light compared to most things his size. Like everything else it made sense. He wasn't a Mech, he was just an empty shell. An armor summoned to life by magic. His footsteps were as quiet as a mini bot's. Whatever Orion called it, he wasn't 'sneaking' on purpose.

A few cycles later, Orion accidentally bent one of its finals when he turned around too quickly, startled by the quiet footsteps behind him.

He named him Prowl. It was...not exactly logical, but there was a certain sense to it. Prowl nodded and agreed. He always agreed with everything Orion said, even if it didn't make sense at all. Orion's opinion took a higher priority than anything else.

Until it didn't.

Until Orion gave him a focused look and told him that he should argue if he thought it was necessary.

Until Orion put the servo on his shoulder and said something along the lines of....

“You can disagree with me if you think my opinion is wrong. I'm not asking you to go against me. I'm not perfect and I can't be the one absolute point of reference for everything. You can and I'm sure will be smarter than me about many things. I want you to tell me if I'm wrong and what I should do about it.”

Like…well….like an absolute fool.

This concept was new. Prowl wasn't built to argue. He was made to obey orders and to serve a function.

Orion smiled slyly. At least it was probably a smile behind his mask that made the corners of his optics lift.

“It wouldn't be considered a disobedience of my order if I ordered you to disobey it. Don't you think?”

Prowl opened his mouth to agree out of habit, but then changed his mind mid-motion and closed it back. It...it didn't make sense. It made sense that was breaking under its own weight. It was mercilessly mixing up all of his pre-learned patterns for talking to Orion. If he agreed with that logic now, it would mean accepting its use. If he protested, it would also mean accepting it, but in a bit more embarrassing way. Just when he was thinking of simply retreating silently to the nearest shadow and banging his head against the wall, he heard a quiet chuckle and realized that Orion had been amusing himself for some time now, watching him struggle.

Prowl decided that verbal responses might be overrated and frowned his face in the most believable expression of displeasure he could portray.

Orion broke out into laughter.

________

“What exactly is my goal?”

Orion looks. Curious. He stops talking to Shockwave and leans back on the bench.

“Right now, to study these journals. I already told you.”

Prowl nods to indicate he heard him and continues

“Studying serves a future purpose. Studying for the sake of studying would be meaningless to me. What is my final goal?”

“To assist me” Orion says slightly confused. ”Within the best of your ability of course.“”

“Аh. Assist in the fulfillment of your goal.”

“Well. I'd say so, yes.”

Prowl nods

“And what is your goal?”

Shockwave, who has been sitting next to them the whole time looks like they're a couple of previously unknown to science species he's just personally discovered.

Prowl ignores him.

“I...you remember the separation between Mechs and monsters, right?” asks Orion cautiously.

“Yes.”

“Mechs...are unfair to monsters. Monsters are cruel to Mechs. It's a needlessly violent situation that I want to...try to. Fix.”

Prowl frowns to indicate that the information isn't completely clear.

“You're a member of the order of hunters. And...” he shakes his head toward the nearest window ”...you have a considerable number of hunters under your command. Your job involves destroying monsters.”

Shockwave makes some sort of quiet amused sound and props his chin up with his hand.

Prowl ignores him harder.

“My job is to bring peace.” says Orion “You don't have to kill monsters to do that. You can negotiate with them. Find a compromise. Coexist. I...I guess basically, I'm trying to make the world a little better?”

Prowl doesn't look impressed. He's actually making a special effort to not let Orion think in any way that he might be intrigued by the whole endeavor.

“You do realize that's a disproportionately large goal for just one Mech, right?”

Orion shrugs awkwardly

“That's why I made you.”

__________

Ratchet puts aside his tools and critically examines his work.

“Don't touch that and it will heal normally.”

Orion smiles gratefully

“Thank you.”

Ratchet is important to Orion. They are close and very valuable friends to each other. The two of them look peaceful now, despite the fact that Ratchet threatened Orion when he first showed up in Sick Bay, so Prowl decides it would be a socially acceptable moment to start talking

“Orion, you're wanted at the Council.”

The second half of his line is drowned helplessly in two startled exclamations at once. Orion, to his honor, calms down almost immediately, but Ratchet continues cursing for a while.

Prowl doesn't wait for him to finish. The Council meeting is earlier than usual today and Orion has already had a few occasions of misbehavior. It's in his best interest to at least show up on time this time.

“Shockwave asked me to tell you to hurry. I will add that showing up at the last minute will not be good for your reputation if you are still hoping to convince the council to let you take more units.”

Ratchet .....stares.

“Primus' rusty hinges, Orion, who's that? Did they assign a nanny to you?”

Orion twitches his finals playfully and immediately crinkles in pain, remembering that one of them should have been left to heal.

“Remember when I wanted to find an assistant? Well...”

Ratchet casts an increasingly more suspicious look at Prowl. Prowl decides that friendliness is overrated and limits his expression to a barely perceptible tilt of his head in response.

“...Shockwave recently helped me figure out how to create golems and I figured if I couldn't find anyone I could trust, I might as well...make one. So. Ratchet meet Prowl.” finishes Orion awkwardly.

Ratchet glares at Prowl for a while longer. Then he turns away and starts tidying up Sick Bay.

“I'm not buying it. I don't know where you found this guy, but you're not playing me. Nice poker face by the way.”

One of Prowl's wings twitches

“He wasn't lying.”

Ratchet snorts grumpily.

“Those...” he waves toward the next room ”...are golems.

There, behind the wall, several golems scurry around. They have medical staff symbols painted on their shoulders, and there is not a trace of thought in their eyes. Two are scrubbing the floors, another wiping the shelves and window sills clean of dust. They occasionally mumble softly under their noses or utter an inane “excuse me” every time they accidentally bump into each other. Prowl knows that if you ask any of them a question with more than one variable, they start babbling guiltily and shrugging their shoulders. They're stupid, but they themselves don't seem to care about that at all. They are their purpose. And their purpose is to keep things clean. They are pride because they are good at their job.

Prowl frowns. He's a headache. Because his "purpose" has been distracted by his conversation with Ratchet and will probably add another tardy to his list in the near future.

Orion begins (thank goodness) to move toward the door

“I've made improvements. There might have been...some not exactly allowed artifacts.”

Ratchet rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly. Prowl can see that his face is already starting to wrinkle in that spot. Patient antics probably age Ratchet far more effectively than the passage of time itself.

“I...you know what...go before the Council sends a search party to look for you.”

Orion sighs and without further distraction finally walks out the door.

Prowl decides that Ratchet might be a good ally when it comes to managing Orion.

He nods politely goodbye before leaving.

______________

“I am different from them. Why?”

Orion puts down the document he's been working on and looks first at Prowl and then, over his head, at the other golems scurrying down the hallway with brooms and rags. He doesn't need to interject exactly who he thinks Prowl is different from.

“Do you want a philosophical answer or a technical one?”

Prowl reaches out and pokes somewhere in Orion's document

“ You missed a comma. Both.”

Orion obediently puts the comma in and folds up the document. His finals are twitching faintly. It could be a sign of concentration as well as distraction. Prowl has already figured out that Orion's body language is a double-bottom trap. For a Mech with this level of expressiveness, Orion is surprisingly difficult to read.

“Sometime quite a while ago during one of my expeditions, I found a unique artifact. A fascinating item, granting wisdom to anyone brave enough to use it.”

“I have a feeling a ‘but’ is coming.”

“You're right. The artifact's unique gift was also its curse. It fed so much information through the Mech's heads that it literally caused the processors of its owners to melt.”

“Oh. Good thing I don't have a processor then.”

Orion laughs quietly

“Indeed. You won't have that problem. And about the other part....Think of all the Mechs you know who are savvy enough about politics and available to work together at the moment.”

Orion gives him a moment before continuing.

“ What is the likelihood that the most trustworthy of them would betray me, for their own gain or out of fear?”

“ Twenty-eight percent,” Prowl informs.

And then hesitates a moment.

Orion is obviously a smart Mech. Not smart enough to single-handedly dominate the political arena, definitely not with his ideals and ideas of what's right. But smart enough to realize it. He knows what he wants and he also knows he can't achieve it alone.

Prowl looks at Orion, who just stands there, eyeing him, without in any way trying to continue the conversation.

Orion is idealistic, and therefore often mistaken for stupid. He isn't. Orion doesn't just know that he can't succeed alone, he knows that everyone else knows it too. He thinks this knowledge will be used against him when the opportunity arises. He's right. By Prowl's count, at least three suspiciously clever Mechs were going to sweet-talk their way into becoming Orion's assistant one way or another before... he appeared.

One of the janitor golems runs past them down the corridor. He doesn't turn around, doesn't even slow down or cast a curious glance. His only goal, his only interest is cleaning. The rest of the world might as well not exist at all.

Prowl thinks he's not that different.

Orion apparently reads the understanding from his face, because he nods contentedly and starts walking further down the hall.

“You didn't take yourself into account when you made the statistics, did you?”

Prowl follows him silently on his heels. Not close enough to be familiar, but not so far away that the conversation stops being private.

“The sampling condition was all mechs. I am not one.”

“That's true” Orion shrugs “You have no loved ones that the Council could use to influence you. You have no desires to be bought by their fulfillment. And while I cannot say with absolute certainty that you will never be capable of going against me...” Prowl starts to open his mouth to object but Orion gestures him to stop, “...no no no no, let me finish. And while I can't be sure you'll never betray me, I at least know for sure that before you met me you had no reason to do so. Do you understand?”

Prowl understands. It makes sense. He still feels the need to argue back, because it is part of his function to do that.

“I would never betray you. I'm not capable of it.”

Orion twitches his finals. Without seeing his face Prowl assumes it is a sign of doubt.

“You are a creature of intellect, Prowl. I am a Mech of ideals. Those two things don't always combine well.”

______

“Foolish and presumptuous.”

Prowl ponders that his function could be much easier if he didn't have to constantly try to balance what is right and what is right in Orion's eyes.

“If you were spotted, the Council would have good reason to assume this isn't the first time you've done something like this.”

“No one noticed,” Orion tries, but Prowl doesn't let him finish that thought

“No one has seen you, because you're lucky. You can't count on it being a permanent occurrence! You undermine your own position by giving the Council grounds for suspicion, you...”

Prowl stops, still pointing his finger accusingly somewhere on Orion's chin. Shockwave, who has witnessed the scene, makes an impressed face and steps closer.

“I swear, you're probably the most capable golem maker I've ever had the pleasure of teaching, Orion. If I hadn't seen that guy on your assembly table, I would never know.”

Prowl takes the statement as a compliment, but doesn't feel the need to show it outwardly. Shockwave, as one of the few who knows about him not being a real Mech, doesn't take offense to it in any way.

“Did I interrupt something dramatic?”

Prowl snorts, because the gesture maintains just the right amount of judgment for his situation.

“Orion is once again harboring a monster instead of killing it or letting it escape.”

This news immediately enlivens Shockwave's posture. Prowl knows he's an even bigger fan of collecting suspicious side projects than Orion. Their friendship, frankly, will one day bury either one or both of them. Prowl just hopes his presence will be enough to sway the percentages when that happens.

Orion doesn't try to deny anything.

“One of my squads encountered a ghost near the northern border. I couldn't... listen Shockwave, he's a good guy. He just needs to be given a chance to show it.”

“Can he talk?” there's almost visible stars in Shockwave's eyes..

Prowl slumps his shoulders helplessly, already knowing what's coming next. These two have done this dance a hundred times before. One of Shockwave's favorite side projects was a school for, as they called them, magically gifted and extraordinary Mechs. In fact, it was the largest den of various monsters that Prowl had ever seen. Every time Orion's hunting squads found a monster that could even remotely resemble a normal Mech, Orion would rush with happy optics to hand it over to Shockwave for care. There, the monsters were taught everything they needed to fit into the society of normal Mechs, but more importantly, they were given documents. Precious pieces of paper that granted their holders rights, freedoms, and protections as Shockwave's apprentices.

Prowl could appreciate the noble endeavor. He could also see clearly that with each addition, this school would become more and more of an inconvenient thorn in the Council's side. Just like Orion, Shockwave was happy to paint a brighter and brighter target on his own back for many cycles.

Orion, insensitive to danger that is not immediate, cheerfully begins to recite

“Can read, write, speak, even makes music.”

Shockwave nods happily

“Introduce us?”

Prowl wonders how far Shockwave can stretch the definition of “magically gifted Mech”. One day Orion will pick up a Kraken on the street and then they'll both probably have to do a lot of mental gymnastics to make it's documents. Ugh.

When Orion had asked him to calculate the probability of betrayal, the most reliable mech he was evaluating at the time was Shockwave.

Twenty-eight percent...

Prowl wonders how many students must be on the opposite side of the scale from Orion for Shockwave to choose in their favor. Speculation is actually useless. If the Council decides to nail Shockwave, they will of course use his entire school at once.

In fact, they probably won't even have to force Shockwave to choose between the school and Orion, because Orion himself will choose a bunch of monsters over himself.

This ridiculously dangerous social construct they call friendship rests entirely on their reputation as honest and honorable mechs. Prowl stares at Shockwave's back and wonders how one mech could have so much charisma, that he gets away with keeping a huge number of Council enemies right under the noses of that same Council.

_________________

Orion gently lifts the now graying shell of what was once a monster from the ground

He doesn't even turn toward Prowl.

"Did you kill him?"

Killing...it's a stretch. Does the act of helping a murderer qualify as murder? Or the lack of action that could have saved the now murdered person? In most cultures and languages, “murder” refers to the act of ending someone else's life, but the context implies a physical act. Did you put a knife in his back? Did you push him off a cliff? Did you cut him with a sword?

By those criteria. Well. Prowl never killed anyone. Nor is he likely to, for he has neither the skill nor the strength to do so.

Did he cause death? Absolutely.

Orion's always had this heroic streak that wouldn't let him just pass by the distressed and disadvantaged. Orion has always had a great spark of kindness and principles as strong as titanium alloy as to what is right and what is wrong.

In Orion's world view, murder is wrong. And murder in conditions where it was possible to solve everything by peace is immoral and unacceptable.

Prowl's worldview tells him that Orion could do much better if he stopped wasting his potential on helping those who will only drag him down in the long run. Orion's life depends entirely on the Council's opinion of him. A Council that has been watching him closely lately. Even if Orion doesn't like it, it's Prowl's job to make sure they like what they see.

Orion turns to him, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Prowl. That mech tried to escape. Past you. And now he's dead. Were you the one who killed him?"

"No," says Prowl, "he ran into one of the patrols."

That statement is missing a good half of the details. Like mentioning that the patrol wouldn't have been there in the first place if Prowl hadn't sent them an anonymous lead.

Orion doesn't need to know that. Orion lives under the idea that every life is precious and, even more inconveniently, equal.

Prowl sometimes feels like yelling at him for it. Because that shiny perfect picture is simply unsustainable outside of Orion's head. The monster, whose graying body now lies on the ground, would be of little use to society. Likely left free, he would have simply continued to attack and kill travelers.

Whereas Orion spends his life making the world a better place. This is an objective fact confirmed by numerous observations.

They are not equals. And they probably never will be. Orion's life is much. Much heavier on the imaginary scales of statistics.

Orion squints at him suspiciously. He's clearly hesitant.

"You could have just let him go instead of killing him."

The trap is honestly too obvious.

"I didn't kill him" Prowl repeats "he ran into a patrol. You can't blame the hunters for doing their job."

Orion places a hand on the dead creature's forehead in a respectful gesture of regret while simultaneously averting his gaze. It's a habit by now.

Look the other way, don't let the council know what you're doing. Sympathize but not in plain sight, help but in secret.

"They had no right to attack him.This is neutral territory. He has the right to run wherever he wants."

Prowl's mouth is twisting with the urge to argue. To say that according to existing information, this monster would have just continued the attacks if he'd stayed free.

He says nothing. Orion is clearly in no mood to argue right now, and he's already questioning Prowl's claim. It's not worth pushing any further.

Prowl only nods, showing that he's heard Orion's point of view.

__________________

He is surprisingly good at lying.

Of course the skill doesn't just come naturally, but he's been known for his straightforwardness. Mechs automatically expect him to either remain silent or tell the unpleasant truth.

All he has to do is give only certain bits and pieces instead of coherent information without changing his usual behavior in any way and the mechs won't be inclined to verify it, filling in the gaps themselves. As a golem, he can't lie, but he can get others to lie to themselves.

He exploits this a lot. Probably more often than Orion would approve, but Prowl doesn't ask him to confirm. Conversations with Orion tend to narrow down his list of options. Because Orion is a real living mech. With a spark. With feelings. And his complex moral code revolves entirely around what he feels to be right.

Prowl has no spark. Prowl has an empty armor that he considers his body and a wisdom artifact that he considers his worth. Both his and Orion's understandings of what is right...overlap...sometimes.

Not always.

______________

"I saw a demon in person for the first time today."

Prowl politely shifts his posture to show he's listening

"A …demon?"

"Demon" Orion repeats "When...when a mech commits especially terrible crimes against the will of Primus, the very magic of their spark rises up against them and turns them into a demon. And I just learned today what a...demon looks like."

Prowl remains silent, waiting for a continuation that never comes. Orion seems gone in his thoughts....

"And what does it look like?" prompts Prowl.

"Creepy. It looks creepy and unnatural and terrifying. Primus' wrath has a very ugly shape..."

"Ah...I see...what did that mech do to be met with such punishment?"

Orion frowns

"I'm not sure. But what we're doing can't go against Primus' will, right? I mean, all beings are his creations! He can't condemn us for trying to make peace between mechs and monsters..."

Prowl is familiar with the concept of punishment for wrongdoing. But something about the very idea...the idea that punishment will find you no matter how well you hide because you can’t run away from your own spark...he has to admit it's disturbing.

"I hope he doesn't."

——————————

Thoughts?👁

Ahsjfjfj

This is the first half of the fic btw because I don’t have enough time to translate the whole thing in one day. I’ll try to post the second half tomorrow🤞

[angelltheninth]

Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you waring his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subltle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on ocassion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he waers. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfuly he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpouse. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad bussiness practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpouse. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a seering kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

[confused-squishy]

Okay, so I just thought of this.

DPXDC

Weapon Expert Danny Todd?

Part 2? Jason's POV

So imagine Danny waking up after running away from Amity Park (reveal gone wrong AU) only to wake up in a different dimension with a different identity. Like he wakes up in a hospital bed with Jason Todd, the 6'4, 260, tank of a man, worriedly and frantically shooting off questions about how Danny feels and if he's sore.

Danny has no idea what's going on. Instead of answering the asked questions, he just asks a few of his own.

"Uh... Who are you and where am I?"

Cue to Jason having an absolute mental down because his husband doesn't remember who he is and that he was almost killed. Jason carefully explains to Danny who he is and what happened. Apparently, the Danny of this dimension is heavily sought after by Heroes and Villains because of weapons he's made in the past.

This led to him being attacked because of some rouge (not the Joker because Jason would've killed the Joker during the time of his coma), wanting a weapon made by him, and he refused. Since he refused, the rouge nearly killed him for his "sass," according to Jason. Jason had found him barely alive in their warehouse, and all the weapons he was "tinkering" with were gone too.

While all this information notices something off with his surroundings. He didn't notice it at first, but there was a low off rhythm hum that was slightly echoing the hospital room. When Danny finally focused back when he realized where the humming was coming from. His husband and his core didn't look right.

Looks like Danny had to do some research. Because there were some things that just didn't make sense. His so-called husband had a half made ghost-core, the only weapons he knew anything about had to deal with ectoplasm, and there was a weird man staring at them from the roof on the building by Danny's hospital window that looked like an emo furry.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Being In Love (and how to get you to love him back)

You're a vigilante in this one, but it's only semi-relevant to the plot (I think it classifies as a fluff piece) ~1.1k words 

Jason has never liked things easy. Well, that's a lie, he's never had things easy. What is true is that Jason Todd likes a challenge. And that's something you certainly are. 

He's never meant someone so stubbornly insistent on staying at his side, has never had someone so willing to throw themselves into danger right alongside him. He can tell you to hang back– demand, even, that you wait for his all-clear before storming the drug bust or robbery of the week, but you never listen. You always just follow him, stand by him, have his back. 

You're always there for him, never pressing, but always present. So he really shouldn't be surprised that he falls head over heels for you. 

It was slow, gradual, something that crept up on him before he even had a word for the feeling growing inside his chest. And then it crashed over him like a tidal wave. Flooded his senses and became so undeniable that he forgot how to breathe. 

There was no grand moment, no pivotal event. You just smiled at him, and oh, he knew. He knew he was a goner, and nothing would ever be the same. No excuse could get him out of there fast enough, once he realized exactly how much of his heart you held.

With his face flushed, eyes wide and starry, and chest so tight it hurt, he ran. He's not proud of it, but he did. It took him days to figure himself out. To come to terms with the fact that you were it for him. And when he finally crawled his way back to your side, you were there. Waiting. Ever patient, ever smiling, ever willing to let him mess up again and again. 

He thought it would be simple, once he accepted that love was the only way to describe the depths of his feelings for you. But you, despite how easy you seem to make everything else in his life, stubbornly (or obliviously) don't seem to notice how enamored he is with you. 

Jason does every single thing he can think of to earn your attention, to deserve your affections. He gives you his jacket when it's cold. (You try to turn it down every time, but you always give in. You always smile that soft, gentle smile that makes tingles run from his spine to his toes– his entire world fixating on you)

He makes you food, buys you food, takes you out to eat, recommends recipes, shares his favorite meals with you. (The way to one's heart is through their stomach, right? But you return the favor every time, for every meal he buys, you treat him to one. For every dessert he bakes, you bake one of your own. It's almost frustrating, if your food wasn't so good. He just wants you to let him take care of you for once without needing to do anything in return)

He brings you flowers, trinkets, anything he can think of that would make you smile. (And you do smile, every time. But then you tell him he doesn't have to go out of his way like this for you. He wants to, so badly, if you would just let him)

He picks invisible lint of your shoulder, smoothes out the wrinkles in your shirt. (You just smile, the same sweet smile you always do, and he has to wonder if that's your way of letting him down easy, if you're not so oblivious as you seem)

He tangles his fingers in yours when the need for night vision arises on missions. (He knows your mask has it, knows you can traverse the dark without the need of his help, but he claims that the one in his mask is better every time. It's not, but you never call him out on it)

He shares every little detail of his life you ask for, and listens to everything you say, memorizing every word that falls from your lips for the future. (He tells you things he'd never tell anyone else, but you deserve to know– deserve to know him and all the reasons why you should and shouldn't love him back)

He checks in on you. He texts you on the days you don't see him, holds you back after patrol to check if you're doing all right. He pays attention to your moods, the set of your shoulders, and does everything he can to lift your spirits when you're down. (You do the same for him. He can't tell you how much that means. He wants to, he just doesn't have the words)

But despite everything he tries (everything but outright saying that he loves you) you don't offer him more than what a friend would. (A best friend, sure, a confidant like no other, but that's not what Jason wants)

He resigns himself to just this– to friendship and nothing more– for the rest of his life. (And that would be enough, just to linger in your space would be enough forever) Until a mission gone wrong, until an explosion that leaves his ears ringing and his head spinning and his only thought is the aching fear of not knowing if you made it out.

You do– did– you're standing in front of him and even if you're favoring one leg over the other you're alive and he can't hold himself back any more under the wave of relief that nearly sends him to his knees.

Jason rips the mask from his face and kisses you like it's the only chance he'll ever have. (It might be. He fully expects you to punch him in the face once he pulls away)

When he does pull back to catch his breath, his hands lingering over your cheeks like he's scared you'll disappear, he watches something flash over your face. Realization. A quiet 'oh' escapes your throat, and suddenly, you're kissing him with a passion he never dared hope for from you.

Your arms thrown around his neck, his fingers digging into the small of his back, the smell of smoke and ash clinging to your skin. It's nothing like he expected, but so, so perfect and you and everything clicks into place when you suck his bottom lip between your teeth and lean your weight into him, trusting him to hold you steady.

Jason has never had things easy, but this moment– kissing you, loving you– feels like the most natural thing in the world, and he wants that to last forever. Wants you– this– all of it, held in the palms of his hands for eternity. (And you want the same, you always have, because how could you do anything less than love him just as much as he loves you?)

[confused-squishy]

Okay, seeing how My Weapon Expert Danny Todd is doing so well, I thought I'd add to it.

DPxDC

It's been 2 weeks since Danny had come "Home," and he's noticed his husband's been clinging to him, and Danny thinks he understands why. But it's not the reason he thinks.

Ever since Danny woke up, he's been different. Now Jason understands having amnesia can change someone. Even before Danny was attacked, he somewhat calmed the Pit-Rage he's been battling since he returned to Gotham. But the pits have NEVER been this calm around Danny. It makes Jason more and more worried. What if while Danny was in the hospital, he had died but was brought back? That might explain Danny's now irregular heartbeat, right?

But Jason doesn't want to go to Bruce for an answer. What if something else happened to his Danny while he wasn't there? What if someone injected Danny with Lazarus Pit water? What if someone injected Danny with something that's slowly killing him and Jason can't stop what's gonna happen to him?

~

Danny looked up from the newest gun he was working on. He caught Jason's stare and felt his core buzz in content. While he isn't used to being around Jason, Danny's core enjoyed him being close by. It made Danny feel like after losing everyone he held dear. He had someone new to live for for.

Danny smiled softly at Jason. "See something you like?" Danny asked softly, going back to the pistol he was tinkering with. Jason's shoulders relaxed as a sense of comfort washed over him. He smiled a small smile towards Danny. "You know I would never complain about this view."

Danny blushed softly. He wasn't used to being praised or flirted with by someone so good-looking. Jason snorted at Danny's blush and felt a smug smile show on his face. Danny may not remember him, but he still reacts the same way. Jason stood from the couch and slowly made his way behind Danny.

Danny didn't say anything, too busy trying to take apart the pistol his husband gave him to tinker with. He should've jumped or tensed when arms wrapped around him. But he didn't. Instead, his body practically melted into the warm body behind him. Both had soft smiles on their faces. Unaware of the trouble they'll be facing in the foreseeable future.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Just thinking about how clingy Jack is after a roadie. That man won’t let you do anything

Yeah, lets be real, Jack is a clingy baby. Olympic levels of clingy when he's finally back home. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Jack's always been clingy. This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that he cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy.

It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Jack’s eyes follow you wherever you go. But, it never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he’ll start physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't yapping away at you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Jack being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck.

It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg.

"Jack, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. Jack's so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.

"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws an encouraged smirk from him, one that you can feel widening against your skin.

"Jack..."

"Angelllll...."

"Jackkkkkk," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he'll waddle around the kitchen with you, waddle to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.

Even when you try to shower, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Luke will more than happily confirm that Jack has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.

“Jack, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at Jack's shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be move then he's not moving.

“Can’t I just shower with you?”

“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Jack only squeezes your waist tight. He's pouting up at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.

"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."

"No."

"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.

"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"

"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend who he loves dearly and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it.

"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts.

"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."

And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Jack and he's missed you.

[space929]

I need to mask constantly because I need to be very careful not to offend the allistics because they're not sensitive - I'm sensitive, not them - but they hate their precious nonsensical social norms being broken.

TW: ableism and SA mentions

But I can't learn not to hurt people. That'd mean that I didn't need to be coddled, and I am capable of empathy and average intelligence. It'd also mean that bigotry and SA aren't something you naturally do. Bigotry is learned. SA isn't done by any decent person. It has nothing to do with being born and everything to do with your mindset and environment.

Autistic people, in my experience, are more likely to be more accepting. Our community has massive overlap with minorities and counter cultures because we don't understand or subscribe to meaningless norms. You may while masking, but that doesn't mean you always will. I subscribe to the norm of conversation while masking, but I rarely talk when I'm not because I'm semi-verbal and it can take a lot out of me.

In my experience, we also may be more likely to understand personal space because we've had ours invaded our entire lives. I've dealt with the forced hugs that make my skin burn like I've been lit on fire, the way so many people don't think to ask before touching because they don't mind [x] and their allistic friends (allegedly) don't mind [x] so they don't consider that you might.

And I've dealt with the upset that comes along with telling people not to touch you without permission. The annoyance. The confusion and sadness that will often be used against you.

The issue lies in normalcy. The first two things have been normalized by society, whether we want to admit it or not. The last three are socially unacceptable.

It lies in what society considers a normal thing to be. Something that it considers natural. It's not seen as learned behavior but inherent. It's a combination of excusing oppression and the belief that autistic people are less capable. Less developed.

If they coddle us while we do heinous shit, it allows them to continue the cycle of bigotry and oppression. If they coddle us while we break their norms, it's saying that it's okay to be deviant (in the neutral sociological sense, not in the insult way that people have adopted it as. Deviance in sociology is literally just going against the norm, whether good or bad).

Basically, this is just a lot of ableism and bigotry. It's also an excuse for me to ramble about something far deeper than the original post because deviance and norms were my favorite sociology lessons when I took the class, and my parents are tired of hearing about it.

In my opinion, we should abolish social norms. It'd make my life easier. We should also acknowledge that autism is not synonymous with being an asshole. They are very, very different.

Things that society considers autism an excuse for

Nazi salutes

sexual assault

Things that society considers autism not an excuse for and things that people think children who do should be met with violence

using the wrong tone

showing too much or too little emotion

asking questions and having an authority figure take it as "arguing"

[arc-misadventures]

A Pokémon Trainers Adventures

Today a group of Pokémon trainers in training were all meeting together at a diner catching up on their adventures throughout the lands of, Sinnoh on the way to becoming, Pokémon Masters

Ruby: Whoo! It's great to see you guys again!

Blake: It's great to see you too, Ruby.

Nora: It feels like it's been years since we last met.

Ren: It's only been five months.

Nora: Years...

Pyrrha: It's been years in, Nora's time.

Ren: ...

Weiss: That makes sense.

Ren: An uncomfortable amount of sense.

Yang: So, what crazy adventures did you guys go on while becoming Pokémon masters?

Nora: Oh, me first!

Yang: Alright, go ahead, Nora.

Nora: Okay... I was deep in the industrial zone, searching for, Pokémon to add to my party... When suddenly from out of the shadows appear a derange vacuum cleaner coming straight at me, with murderous intent in it's eyes! I call out my, Bronzor, Blingy ,and we engaged in a grueling duel to the death with this killer vacuum! It was a fierce duel, but we managed to defeat the vile vacuum cleaner! But, after we destroyed the evil vacuum, a Pokémon flew out of the machine, but before it could escape, I threw a Great Ball at it, and I caught, Rotoma!

RWBYP: Rotoma?

Ren: The vacuum cleaner was possessed by a, Rotom. When, Nora caught him, so she named it, Rotoma

RWBYP: Ohh!

Yang: Nice name!

Ruby: Okay, my turn! So, I recently defeated the gym leader of, Veilstone City, Gym Leader, Maylene!

Yang: Oh, nice job, Ruby!

Blake: Well done!

Ruby: Thanks! It was a tough to fight her, and her fighting type Pokémon gave my guys a run for their money. We barely managed to eke out a win. I've been doing some training to strengthen my, Pokémon so we're not stuck on the ropes again.

Pyrrha: Smart move, Ruby. That's what I did after I beat, the gym leader of, Calavane City, Byron. He may have mostly metal type, but my, Luxray was knocked out in the first round with ease!

Weiss: Yeah, gym leaders may specialize on one type of Pokémon, but that doesn't mean they're a pushover if you have a Pokémon that their pokemon is weak against. Like when I lost to, Gardenia with my, Glaceon.

Ruby: But, aren't water type, Pokemon, weak to grass types?

Weiss: Vaporeon is the water type eeveelution. Glaceon is the ice type eeveelution.

Ruby: Ohh! So she curb stomped your Pokémon then?

Weiss: She bullied poor, Mr. Snappy...

Yang: Mr. Snappy?

Blake: That's what, Weiss calls her, Sharpedo.

Yang: Oh that's cute!

Blake: So, what about you, Ren, anything interesting happen to you?

Ren: Oh, well... I found a Pokémon egg a while ago, and I was nursing it, and it recently hatched into a, Riolu.

Yang: Oh, a Riolu! That's a nice Pokémon to have!

Blake: Are you having a hard time training it?

Ren: No, she's a delight to have around, I'm enjoying training her with the rest of my other Pokémon. What about you, Yang, did you do anything interesting?

Yang: Oh, I've been entering some Pokémon beauty contest lately. I haven't won anything yet, but we've gotten pretty close to. So, we've been training for the next competition. What, about you, Blake?

Blake: Not much, bar getting my ass handed to me by the gym leader of, Hearthome City, Fantina. Her ghost type Pokémon do not play around...

Pyrrha: Yeah, I still haven't beaten her myself.

Weiss: Her Pokémon scare me...!

Nora: Me too!

Ruby: Well, I don't I think her Pokémon are really cool!

Yang: Of course you like ghosts.

Ruby: What, they're cool!

Pyrrha: Hahaha! So, what about you, Jaune?

Jaune: Hmm... what?

Pyrrha: You've been pretty quiet. Has something interesting happen lately?

Jaune: Well... kinda...

Yang: Ohh~! You got an interesting story to tell! Let's hear it!

Jaune: Well...

~~~

Unlike the rest of his friends, Jaune was just having an adventure, exploring the lands of, Sinnoh. Exploring the land, meeting new people, and Pokémon. Occasionally engaging in a battles with his fellow trainers, and when he decides he ready to, engage in a match with a gym leader.

He didn't have a lot of problems, or more accurately, challenges whenever he got into a Pokémon battle. He even had a fight against, Sinnoh's Pokémon champion, and honestly, he enjoyed the conversation the pair had afterwards more so than the battle itself. So, instead of worrying about Pokémon battles, gym badges, and what not, he just went on an adventure with his Pokémon, and meeting new Pokémon, and people.

And, one day while, Jaune was enjoying the beauty of a pound filled with lily pads, enjoying the elegant lotus blossoms upon the lily pads. A content sigh escaped his lips as he just enjoyed the moment. But as, Jaune was watchin the pound, he saw a dark shadow from the cave the pound fed into grow darker, and darker across the lily pads, as he eyes were drawn upward. His eyes widened in stunned awe, as he looked into the deep crimson eyes of the being on the other side of the void: Giratina.

Jaune: ...

Giratina: ...

Jaune: ...

Giratina: ...

Jaune: Hi.

Giratina: ZEHHAAA!!!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Okay...

~~~

Jaune: ...

Pyrrha: Jaune? Jaune you okay...?

Jaune: I have a date with the, Sinnoh Pokémon Champion, Cynthia!

RWBYNPR: WHAT?!

Yang: You've got a date with who?!

Weiss: That's fucking bullshit!

~~~

Jaune: Oh gods...

: So because you thought your friends wouldn't believe the fact you saw the legendary banished Pokémon, Giratina. You instead said that you had a date with, Sinnoh's Pokémon champion?

Jaune: Honestly, I don't think they would believe me if I had a date in general, much less with who I said it was with.

: Honestly, I have a hard time believing it myself.

Jaune: Cynthia, we're on a date right now?

Cynthia: ...

Cynthia: Oh yeah...

[haikyuuisgreat]

It's actually funny to me that of the three, LZ is the most normal about his husband. Like, it makes sense because HC's whole reason he's still alive is XL, that's his unfinished business and LBH is certified freak who kept SQQ's corpse for five years. But something about it is just strange because to call LZ normal is a stretch, like he was completely devoted to WWX is a way that's borderline obsessive sometimes, fought 33 of his own family members to protect him, and gave himself the same scar as WWX in a moment of weakness. But then you compare it to feeding your beloved your own blood to be able to track him or dying for him over and over and over again and always coming back stronger for him, it really doesn't compare.

it's just weird to think about. To be fair to him, though, he is the only completely human love interest, so he just doesn't have to range ig.

[yumeka-sxf]

A very short new chapter this week but...wow, the preview mentioned that it's about a dream Anya had, but I wasn't expecting baby Anya right off the bat 😭

A couple things we can infer about this short scene with her mother is that 1) they're both wearing what appears to be hospital or another kind of medical facility gowns, which indicates that they were perhaps both at the lab together. Likely her mother was there first for who knows how long, and Anya was born there?

And 2) the emphasis on being able to fly like a butterfly makes me think that they're trapped there. Anya is too young at this point to understand what's happening, but her mother desires that at least Anya is able to "fly away" to a better life someday.

It's hard to tell if Anya has her mind reading ability yet, or if her mother can read minds too. We don't see any of the "sparkles" that are used as a visual cue for when Anya is mind-reading...I feel like we would have seen that in the scene below when she's looking up at her mother before hugging her. But it could just be too short of a scene to say for sure.

Some notes about the Japanese version, @spencer-is-someone and others were wondering if she calls her ママ ("mama") here as opposed to what she calls Yor, はは ("haha"), and yes, she does call her biological mother the actual word "Mama." This is consistent with the Eden interview scene too.

The first panel of the Japanese version also has this extra text on the left that reads "a precious memory from some other time..."

Something that I mentioned in my review of chapter 102 is how Endo hides the faces of certain characters in other characters' flashbacks, such as how Loid's parents' faces are hidden, as is the face of Henry's wife in Martha's flashback. In the same vein, Anya's mother's face is obscured as well.

I interpret this as the characters' suppressing the memory of the character whose face is hidden due to the emotional trauma that character elicits, a trauma that the character having the flashback is trying to overcome, whether they realize it or not. In Anya's case, it could simply be that she doesn't remember her mother's face since she was so young, but regardless, I like that Endo is being consistent with this.

Side note, it seems like the design for Anya's mother is based on Ashe, a character from one of Endo's previous works. Anya's design was based on Ashe as well, so makes sense that her mother would have a stronger resemblance.

Before the chapter ends, we're treated to "soft" Loid with the little sigh he has (the "phew" cloud in the lower right) whenever he's genuinely relaxing around the family 😊

It's interesting how the mind-reading thing from the previous chapters with Melinda is brought up...when Anya asks if Yor can read her mind, Loid looks concerned, but when Yor tells him she only knew about the potato gratin because Anya saw it on TV, he relaxed.

I kinda hope that the Melinda story continues in the next chapter, but it could be paused for now. Likely we'll be moving onto something else next time. Maybe we'll go back to the "Anya reveals her secret to Damian" thing, since school is resuming according to Loid. I am a bit surprised though that this chapter was so short despite not being called a "Short Mission" chapter. Endo could still be trying to catch up after the recent long hiatus he had due to illness. But it's fine, I'm happy with crumbs of Anya's backstory not matter how small! 😅

[mothric]

yeah, as nice as it is to imagine this type of worldwide solidarity, it does seem a bit contrived. the world doesn't revolve around us, like the above said. I have certainly seen a few headlines about anti-Trump protests, including in Germany as they are also protesting the rise of the far-right in their own country. but it seems like a stretch to say they're protesting FOR America; it makes much more sense that they'd be protesting AGAINST the presidency of a guy who may make dangerous movements in their own countries feel more emboldened.

also (a bit of a tangent ahead) I am still not an expert at fact checking, but in times like these it is extremely important to ask questions about the things we see. this video, for example, contains no sources and no real context. where are the clips taken from? in what countries are they happening? *when* are they from? when I tried looking this up, one of the first results I got was a fact checker confirming that one popular video going around (not this one) was from a protest that happened in 2018. (I tried to link it here, but tumblr isn't allowing the hyperlink for some reason, so i encourage you to do some searching yourself.) I also found an article that made the same claim as this video and the source it linked was... a tweet claiming the same thing.

this tiktok is also not coming from any kind of reporter, news source, or a firsthand eyewitness account. it's just someone who stitched videos together without saying where they're from and put text over them. lots of people can do that.

I really, really hate to be a bummer on a post that's trying to be encouraging. there is plenty to be anxious about, I get it. but misinformation is still misinformation, even if it supports your side or makes you feel better. with the rise of censorship concerns we need to start getting a LOT more comfortable with asking questions about what we see, even if it looks like something easy to believe. Especially if it looks like that, actually.

all that said, if anyone has more concrete information, articles, or knows where those video clips are from, please add on to this post!

[leighsartworks216]

Little White Dove

Sylus x gn!Reader

I've been doing a lot of perler bead stuff lately (I am Procrastinating) and I had the thought of gifting him something, but then had the second of doubt because of how childish it is. I should never doubt this man's love

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, anxiety, embarrassment, comfort, cuddling, kissing, domestic fluff

Word Count: 1,018

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

"Sy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

You step into the room, hands behind your back. He quirks a knowing eyebrow as you cross over to his desk. You offer him a smile. It's a poor mask for your anxiety; rocking on your feet, biting your lip, struggling to hold eye contact with him. "I made you something~"

Sylus smiles, silently trying to assuage your fears as he leans back in his chair. "Do I have to guess what it is?" he teases lightly.

You laugh nervously. "No."

"Then, can I see it?"

You purse your lips and nod slowly. Still, you hesitate. It's only when his face drops into something more serious that you feel the window rapidly shutting on giving him your gift. So, quickly, you toss it onto the desk and make your way for the door.

You don't make it very far before tendrils of energy are lifting you off the ground and carrying you through the air. "Ah! Sylus, let me go!"

He tsks. You plop into his lap, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist to keep you there even as you squirm. "You're acting like you've rigged the place to explode. If that's the case, I should keep you here as collateral."

"Well, I didn't, so you can let me go now!" You shove at his arm. It doesn't so much as budge. All you manage to do is feel up his muscles, that he is certainly flexing just to get a rise out of you.

His other arm wraps across your chest, pulling you back into him solidly. He rests his chin on your shoulder. "Then stop squirming, kitten. You're only making yourself look more guilty."

You huff, but you stop. You glare at the floor, the wall - anywhere but him or his desk. Really, it's stupid. You made this damn thing for him, after all. It was your idea to gift it to him. And now you're trying to run away.

He kisses your cheek. You hear rather than see his Evol pick up the gift you left on his desk, as it comes to his hand at your shoulder. He loosens his hold on you to look at the item, his chin still resting on you as he flips it over in front of you.

It's small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. Though, it's dwarfed entirely in his own palm. Little melted beads come together to form a crow, with black and grey feathers. A red eye stares up at him.

He chuckles fondly. "It's Mephisto."

You nod slightly.

"Why were you so scared to give it to me?" His voice is a low rumble, soft and soothing. There's no teasing or judgement. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face.

You sigh. "It's just... I realized how stupid it is."

"What is?"

"To give you something like that. 'Cause it's supposed to be for kids. And you're, like, an awesome, badass mob boss."

You can feel the grin curling his lips as he kisses your skin again. "And you think those are grounds for me to not like it?"

When you don't speak, the answer is all too loud and clear. He holds the bead crow carefully in his hand as he wraps his arm back around you, hugging you closer, pulling you further into his lap so you have no choice but to sink into him.

"I will always love and cherish anything you give me. Whether it's a screaming toy flower or a rock you found." You want to hide in his neck, but he doesn't let you. His forehead finds yours, blocking your hideout and forcing you to meet his eyes. "If one day I don't wholeheartedly appreciate something you give me, don't hesitate to shoot me, because it must be an imposter."

You snort. "What if it is you?"

"Then I hope it's enough to bring me back to my senses. I'll have deserved it."

There's nothing but honesty and love in his eyes. Red irises shimmering with unbridled affection. You follow the line of his nose to his mouth, and the beautiful curve of his cupid's bow, before wriggling yourself loose. Just enough for his arms to be more lax around you, so you can open his hand and look at the little crow inside.

"You really like it?"

He chuckles. "Sweetie, weren't you listening?" He kisses your temple, lingering for a moment, as though he could transfer all his reassurances directly into your brain. "I love it. You should make it into a keychain for me. Then, I could always keep it on me."

You trace a finger idly along the melted beads. Some are more melted than others, a consequence of uneven heat distribution from the iron you plucked out of a closet and holding it on for a little too long. It's charming. You wonder if Mephisto would like it, or if he'd just try picking it apart like a toy.

Sylus's hand closes around the crow and your finger, drawing your attention back to him. "Can you show me how you made it?"

You blink dumbly at him. "Don't you have work to do?"

"It can wait. I'm much more interested in my dove's hobbies."

The embarrassment and anxiety from before feel like distant memories, fading away as you get up from his lap and grab his hand to drag him along to your makeshift setup in the dining room. He listens diligently as you explain the process to him and show him all the other little things you made. The little plastic tweezers look strange in his large hand as he picks the beads out of a container and aligns them on a pegboard. And seeing him carefully ironing the design is all too domestic. You can't help pulling him into a kiss once he's finished and his masterpiece is being pressed flat under some books.

A week later, while you race side by side on your motorcycles, a crow hangs from his keys in the ignition. And from yours, a little white dove.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry

[rhiannonsknife]

okay, but... jackie taylor with reader! princess treatment? reader just loves sitting on her lap while wearing a cute short skirt and pretty ass, having jackie's arms around her, giving her a kiss with lip gloss when she wins a game, looking at her with big eyes and a cute pout ... just princess treatment?

i really love your work!

god….jackie taylor princess treatment, save me!! save me jackie taylor princess treatment!!

jackie taylor lives to spoil you.

she’s got an arm slung around your waist at all times, fingers resting just beneath the hem of your shirt to have a feel of your skin. she never lets you walk on the outside of the sidewalk, she opens doors for you without a second thought, and if you so much as shiver, she's already draping her varsity jacket over your shoulders, murmuring, “can't have my girl getting cold, can i?”

it’s fair to say that she is obsessed with you. and jackie doesn't even try to hide it.

it’s obvious to everyone around in the way she pulls you into her lap the second you're close enough, her arms wrapping around your waist like she owns you. she doesn't care where you are (on the bleachers after practice, at a party, even in the middle of the cafeteria if there's space) you're sitting on her, not next to her.

“you're so clingy,” you tease one afternoon, even as you settle comfortably against her, your skirt riding up just a little when you shift in her lap.

jackie’s hands squeeze your hips. “and?”

“nothing,” you say. “i like it!”

if she's not actively pulling you into her lap, she's tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear, playing with your fingers, kissing your temple just because she can. jackie even carries your bag after school, waits for you after class, and lets you steal her clothes even though she knows you only wear them so people will see.

and after a big game? there is no stopping her: even sweaty, breathless, and radiating victory, all jackie wants is you.

the second she sees you waiting for her near the sidelines, she beams, racing right over, gripping your waist, pulling you in.

jackie barely has time to catch her breath before you cup her face, press a sticky-sweet, glossy kiss to her lips, and pull back just enough to admire your work. a perfect pink layer left behind, her lips glittering with it.

"you taste like strawberries," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth.

you flush, curling further into her as the other yellowjackets begin to catch up. jackie just grins, keeping you right where you belong: wrapped up in her arms, pressed against her like she never wants to let go. (which, truthfully, she doesn’t…)

— nsfw below the cut. mdni.

okay but now i‘m thinking…jackie finger fucking you in her lap…? because, if you think about it, that also counts as princess treatment, right…?

maybe you’ve convinced her to let you do her make up or something:

at first, you’re confused as to why she would agree to this at all: jackie is definitely better at doing makeup than you, and hates when somebody messes with her face like that.

it only really dawns upon you when you’re already sitting on her lap: here you are, in the shortest little skirt, looking all cute and focused, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you reach for a brush.

no wonder jackie actually wanted this.

no wonder she’s got no sense of self control now.

her hands drift to your thighs, fingertips teasing along the hem of your skirt. just barely at first, featherlight touches that make you squirm but don't fully distract you as you reach for a brush.

but she doesn't stop there. she squeezes your thighs, her fingers pressing into soft flesh as she watches you try to ignore her.

“jackie,” you warn, not yet looking down.

jackie hums, all innocent. “hmm?”

“you’re distracting me,” you murmur, dipping the brush into the powder, trying to refocus. but, god, it’s hard when she trails her fingers up until she’s squeezing your ass.

“am i?”

you turn her chin slightly to apply the blush. “yes”

jackie, completely unbothered, presses a lingering kiss to your wrist, then the inside of it, then your palm. before you can react, she’s already leaning up, catching your lips in a kiss as well.

you sigh against her mouth, your hands sliding into her hair as the brush clatters to the floor.

as easy as that, and all your resolve is gone, replaced by arousal when jackie reaches between your legs. when she catches your eyes, tilts her head, and waits for the breathless nod before pushing your panties to the side, moaning as if she could feel actual pleasure from the way her fingers slide through your wetness.

it’s not long after that, that you find yourself propped up above jackie, most of your weight resting on your knees, one hand on the headboard, as she pounds her fingers into you. you don’t even have to do anything at all, she’s doing the work for you, wetness gushing down her arm.

“just like that,” jackie praises as the hem of your skirt bounces with each thrust. her free hand lingers on your lower back, supporting you in your current position and her face is covered in your lipgloss, chin and jaw glistening with it over a thin layer of sweat.

“come on,” she encourages, leaning back on her elbows to get a better look at you, her fingers stilling inside of your throbbing cunt.

it is up to you to take pleasure from her now.

later, you will be embarrassed by how fast you switch to riding her fingers…

[thetarotyapper]

you & your future partner/spouse's personality

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I II III

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⭑paid services⭑ ⭑18+ paid services⭑ ⭑tarot community⭑

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(how to pick a card? observe the given images and choose the one which you feel the most drawn to. select the image based on the number provided below and scroll down to read about the pile you have chosen. remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates! ps.- if you feel drawn to more than one card/image/pile, feel free to read the others too!! if the chosen pile doesn't relate to you, feel free to choose another. the choice is yours<3)

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⊹₊⋆ pile I

⭑ your personality ⭑

pile 1, your energy is so fresh and so pure. you're someone who is always inspired and you're not afraid to get what you want. you're someone who is smart and finds solutions rather quickly. you like to take inspired action and you stand your ground. you're someone who believes in equal rights (and i'm also getting the energy here that you might be very masculine - regardless of your gender). you do not only stand up for yourself, you also stand up for others. you're a protector. you're strong headed and you might be very firm with regard to your opinions, and that's because you know you are right. and you are always right. you're mature and emotionally strong, literally no one can break you. you love teamwork and i see that you might like to socialize or you have a good number of trustworthy friends. people might come to you for advice and i see you guiding them. you're wise and filled with wisdom. you love structure and balance. you might like the colour red, and there's strong fire sign energy coming through. you're someone who thinks before they act. you're also someone who takes accountability for your actions and you value honesty.

⭑ your future partner/spouse personality ⭑

things have not been easy for your person. they've lived life the tough way and i see them carrying a lot of trauma and burden. they have the ability to leave their past behind, but for some reason i see that they're scared of the future as it is unknown. so, they're somewhat comfortable with their traumatic past because it is something they already know and are accustomed to. does that make sense? they're trying to let go of their past but it's them who is still holding on to it. i see that they're here for the long-term. it can be in areas of work, finances, family or romance. they're someone who is always thinking about expanding their name and gaining recognition. i feel like their parents might have neglected them when they were a child or their parents never listened to any of their interests, so they try to seek that validation from others. they're very social and they might like to party a lot. again, it's to gain validation because they lacked it when they were a kid. women might be easily attracted to them is what i'm seeing here. maybe they're very charismatic. they're enjoying or trying to enjoy the flow of life but i do see that their main concern is financial loss. they might also have some physical health issues. maybe they get tired or sick often because of overworking or it could be a genetic factor. something to do with the way they walk. they might have been through an accident. they also might have low self-confidence because of this or they're just insecure in general. but however, they're working their way through life and they're trying to enjoy the smallest moments.

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✦ . ⁺ pile II

⭑ your personality ⭑

before i could even shuffle the cards i got a feeling that you're someone who is very social or you might capture a lot of people's attention. you might be the “life of the party” in the friend group. people might feel drawn to your sunshine energy and the way you're always so bubbly. you're someone who is filled with strength and courage and you're also someone who is confident. you know yourself better than anyone and you don't let anyone tell you otherwise. you go gurllll!!!💅 you're literally a natural born leader and things literally flow to you. i see you achieving things without needing to put in too much hard work. you're someone who has good vision - either for the future or it might also be your eyes. you might have pretty eyes or your vision is really good. this also could mean that you can see through people and you know when someone is lying. you might be an earth sign, or have an earth sign in your placements. you have endless opportunities lying ahead of you, all you need to do is look in front of you. i see you're very protected by your angels. i'm getting a leo sign here. you're someone who radiates confidence and you're also independent. you know what you want and you go for it. very determined, very strong, very wild. however i do see that you've not been very lucky when it comes to love. you feel like you might not find anyone in this lifetime and you also might have this tendency to forgive and romanticise relationships that aren't even worth your time. you might be hooked on a past lover. you might also be someone who has unrealistic expectations when it comes to relationships and you might also tend to get jealous very easily.

⭑ your future partner/spouse personality ⭑

your person is very nurturing and hopeful. they might be someone who believes in spirituality and might be into astrology or astrophysics. or they might even have a thing for space. maybe they like to study stars or things related to space. you get what i mean? they're someone who is very diplomatic and believes in balance. they're always ready to try new things and are always on the go. they might be someone who likes to plan spontaneous trips or just likes going out regularly (but not in a “partying” sense. more like going out in nature). i see that they're someone who likes to explore new possibilities and they're not afraid to dive into the unknown. a complete contrast from pile 1’s person. water sign energy coming through. they might tend to get disappointed easily but that's because they like to do things without thinking twice. they're also someone who is very forgiving. they might have been facing financial struggles but i see them overcoming this obstacle.

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٠࣪⭑꩜.ᐟ pile III

⭑ your personality ⭑

i see that you might have gone through some major transformation. you might've been a victim of stagnation and you might've felt like your efforts were going unnoticed and you knew that YOU were the one who had to change. and you did exactly that! you've changed your ways and you've been more active and you participate more in activities. i see you being inspired and also inspiring many. people feel comfortable around you and they might open up to you easily. you're very caring and giving. you love everyone and i don't see a single hint of hate in your heart. your heart is open for everyone. i also see that you're dictating your life in this routine or you might have expectations you would want to meet at a given time and i see you nearing your goal. you're someone who struggled in the past and now i see that you have made a map for yourself or a route for yourself and you're never going to leave this routine behind as you're seeing good results. you're also someone who knows how to regulate their emotions and not let their emotions take over them. you have a good way of getting away from the tension and you always seem composed. a romantic connection might also be coming your way!!

⭑ your future partner/spouse personality ⭑

okay so pile 3, your person seems like someone who might be young or might be a little emotionally immature. they're always acting before they think and even though a part of them knows that it's a bad idea, they still go ahead. they might be a victim of extreme peer pressure or they might have this longing to fit in. but regardless of this small flaw, i do see that they're someone who is very fulfilled and satisfied with their life. they're someone who is very grounded and humble and i see that they attract a lot of opportunities. i also see that they might have a shopping addiction and this might make sense when i mentioned that they always act before they think. they seem like someone who likes to go out a lot and loves to make new connections. they might be someone who is attractive or they're just confident and they might turn some heads towards them. they actually like the attention, i'm not gonna lie. they're like teenagers. that's literally the energy im getting here. they might also have a bird as their pet or might like pets in general. they know that things will go well for them and i also see that they're someone who becomes very focused when they want something. they're someone who likes to fight for what they want rather than getting things easily. i'm also getting the energy here that they might be from a well-off background and things come easily to them but they're someone who does not like to take the easy way out. they work hard for what they want. they're also someone who is straightforward and is not afraid to speak their mind. blue might be their favourite colour.

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hi loves!! i hope this reading finds you in good health and i hope you are doing well. take care of yourself and i will see you in my next reading. thank you for being here<3

(note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!)