#make you feel like you're making some kind of a difference

[gryffin-who-cannot-fly]

so I agree with the end result of most of what you're saying, which is that trans men shouldn't be treated as a punching bag and that some queer/feminist spaces need to get a handle on their misandry towards trans men.

but here's the thing. you said

cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

and I just don't follow that logic. criticism is one thing, but mean jokes?

I want to quickly say up top that I'm not trying to have a go at you; I see this sentiment from time to time in the (online, usually) spaces I'm in and it's something I want to push back on.

first of all, and this shouldn't matter but it will to some people: you don't know the full identity of every person you meet. you don't know who is stealth trans, or autistic, or invisibly disabled, or has a history of being bullied. in an online environment you don't even know who's a person of colour or visibly disabled.

so if you throw a blanket 'I can bully cis men who are generally lauded by society' net, you will catch men who are not lauded by society, and add to their marginalisation and likely their poor mental health. I know bully isn't a word you used, but repeatedly making jokes intended to bring someone down is going to wind up being bullying.

now I say I don't think that should matter because: what is the great harm to us, in queer/feminist spaces, if we treat everyone with respect and kindness? the usual caveats of course, if someone is being antagonistic or otherwise making a space unsafe then that should be managed as appropriate, but even then no part of that should involve stopping your respect. it certainly shouldn't involve treating them a bit 'nasty'.

part of this is recognising the difference between systemic issues and individual issues. yes, 'men', broadly speaking, are responsible for complex systems of oppression that lead to harm, abuse, marginalisation, gatekept opportunities, etc. but random Guy No 625 that shows up with his girlfriend to the bi visibility event is not personally responsible for that. maybe he's contributed to it or maybe he's spent his whole life campaigning for idk abortion rights and you have no idea. it doesn't matter. he's certainly benefited from the patriarchy; it still doesn't matter. what would bullying this man achieve? nothing.

you mention that privileged cis men need to understand that privilege isn't going to carry over to queer/feminist spaces and I do agree with that. they should be treated with the same amount of respect and consideration as everyone else, and if they're used to the world revolving around them that is going to feel like less, and their feelings shouldn't necessarily be coddled about that. but again, that's not being mean to someone, that's just treating them like a human being.

idk. we should try and live in the world we want to create. that isn't always possible, but you can definitely treat every person as an individual deserving of respect. if they turn out to be a mysoginist, just respectfully kick them out of the space and move on.

I notice sometimes in queer and feminist spaces the idea of "this group is generally given more leniency and privileges in wider society; it's okay for us to be critical or even a little nasty to them because anywhere else they'd be praised". and that's understandable, i think. when you have real issues with men and how men act, it's ok to express that and to mock mens behavior. cis men who are generally praised and celebrated in society should be able to take some mean jokes or criticisms and accept they're not always going to be lauded.

but since queer and feminist spaces are generally more accepting of trans people and the wider society is not, this is also projected on to trans men. "trans men are men" was an affirming statement to our validity, but that was interpreted as "since trans men are men, and men are celebrated by society, I get to be a little nasty to them because the rest of society worships men. they can take it."

but the rest of society doesn't have that same level of trans acceptance. they don't see trans men as men, they see trans men as mentally ill, broken, mutilated women. so it's absolutely aggravating when we turn to queer and feminist spaces for solidarity, we face the same reactive nastiness cis men get and are told "come on, trans men are men. you are celebrated in society. you can take it." and when we look at the rest of society there's no celebration. there's only more nastiness and cruelty. so how can we "take it" when we have no community that accepts us and treats us without mockery? we don't have the shelter of acceptance that cis men have in the status quo, and sometimes we can't find a small umbrella of acceptance in queer communities either.

to be honest, I think a lot of people view trans men as a safe punching bag to vent their frustrations with men. you can mistreat a trans man and he's probably not going to fight you back since he's already so beat down. you can feel like you put a man in his place, you can feel like you're resisting the patriarchy. but all you did was act cruel to a marginalized person. and you know if you treated a cis man like that you might be putting yourself in danger, cos he might not take it lying down and he might not care as much about your wellbeing!

trans men are men, but trans men are not cis men. cis men are lauded and celebrated in society as long as they conform to the gender roles that were placed on them at birth. and this privilege is extremely conditional and not equally spread between men of different sexualities, races, ethnicities, ability, age, etc; trans men and intersex men are thrown to the side completely. I understand needing to vent about men. trans men do it too. but a persistent attitude of resentment and cruelty towards all men, including trans men, is not activism. all you do is push marginalized men out of the only communities they belong

[birdantlers]

Hey, you.

Are you also upset and angry about the election? Are you concerned about the likely election tampering and collusion that won* Trump this election?

EVERY SINGLE AMERICAN who voted blue in this election needs to do this. Don't lie down and let fascism take hold of this nation even more than it already has.

Call (202) 456-1111 Tuesday—Thursday 11:00AM—3:00PM and demand an investigation.

Check the status of your ballot at vote.org. Report any issues to the DOJ voter fraud hotline: 1-800-253-3931 for those whose ballot isn’t being counted.

Here are some state-specific hotlines as well:

Here is an in-depth guide to effectively contact your representatives (lik is different from pictures below).

Here is the submission form to submit concerns the the White House as well as instructions and sample text ideas below (not pasting the actual text as incentive for people to write their own—if you submit a message or multiple messages, make sure there are differences so that nothing gets flagged as spam).

Lastly, I'd like to say that for the record I'm not advocating for her as some kind of savior; she's a politician with flaws and dirty laundry, but I also would urge you to consider donating to the Harris-Walz campaign fund, which has been updated to include funding for a ballot recount.

I think this is a very important thing to support and to spread, as it has appeared quietly in the fund's footnotes. I would like to think that the admin wouldn't go down without swinging before January, but unless they get some money thrown at them I'm not sure the odds of us finding out will be as good—sad as that is. Remember, even if it's just a dollar, or less—if everyone who ran across this on their dash donated, it would still generate thousands.

I'm not saying all this to be a shill for a politician who's still a basically-centrist politician at the end of the day. I'm doing this because I'm pissed off and desperate to not see my home become a totalitarian dystopia.

I know that as more time passes, as more government positions are announced by the charlatan-elect, as people clap their hands in celebration of an anti-constitutional takeover, it can feel hopeless to fight. It isn't. January 20th is still months away.

This is not the time to submit to despair. This is the time to put our dukes up. The bystander effect is how a movement dies, and when affirmative action has to be taken remotely, it's an even bigger threat. Don't assume. Don't be these guys:

Call your reps. Track your ballots. Defend and report those ballots if missing, and regardless of that, submit those White House comments.

Even if you can't do all of these, try to do any little bit you can. Doing a small something is ALWAYS better than doing nothing, and for my fellow disabled, adhd, exhausted, etc. bitches I know that's the difference between making any progress or not.

This should go without saying, but please reblog this post. Send it to people, even people outside of Tumblr. Spread it regardless of whether you live in the US. I would also advise sharing more than once so followers who are AFK the first time(s) can see it during downtime.

And if anyone turns their nose up at you and says what you're doing is pointless—even if that voice comes from inside—shut that shit down. There's no perfect third trolley track that's going to hand down action free of conflict or flaws, but there's also a raging, stupid fascist in line for the presidency.

This is no time for half measures.

Don't give up. Don't shut up. Don't hand over your rights without a fight.

*hoe cheated

[hannieehaee]

How about Joshua with a s/o who always wears baggy clothes and doesnt feel attractive because she doesnt wear revealing ones ?

If u want to write it pls do it only if u are ok with it and feel inspired ♡♡

content: bf!joshua, established relationship, some talk about insecurities, fluff, etc.

wc: 605

a/n: so sorry i took so long to write this!!

masterlist

"hey, babe, have you seen my shirt? you know, the grey one with the loose neck? i thought i- oh."

"huh? what was that?", you asked as you took out an earbud, turning to look at the boy who'd been trying to call your attention.

chuckling, he rounded the kitchen island to reach your side, hands practically attaching to your waist like magnets as he aided you in removing the other earbud, placing both on the counter next to you.

"i was just wondering where my band tee went, but i think i have my answer," he chuckled, pressing a sweet peck to your temple.

"oh, fuck. sorry, josh. do you want it? i can go change," you went to disconnect from him, but he wasnt having it, instead nuzzling his head on your shoulder.

"hm. it smells of my cologne still," he said almost to himself, "you don't have to take it off. i like you in my clothes," he reassured.

you could only scoff.

"your clothes are baggy on me. just like all my other clothes. what difference does it really make?"

joshua shrugged, "just like knowing you're wearing something of mine. you're style's cute. you're cute."

"flattery will get you everywhere, hong," you laughed.

it was one of those nice, domestic moments that occurred every so often. you basked in it, enjoying it before the two of you went back to your regular days.

it wasn't until later that you started to think about what you'd said to joshua earlier.

you did have a tendency to wear baggier clothes. hell, there really was no difference between wearing something of his and a piece of your own. it was incredibly rare for you to show skin or any sort of silhouette, and those instances were really reserved for nights too warm to handle in which you had to opt for some shorts and a tank top.

but even then, you went for looser ensembles. clothes that showed your figure were never really your forte.

you couldn't help but wonder if this ever bothered josh. would he have preferred if your style varied more? what if he thought of you as a prude? maybe he-

"what's got you thinking so loud?", the boy in question interrupted your inner turmoil.

you hadn't realized as you sat in front of your vanity, face wash in hand and still unused, that you'd frozen in place as you thought. his presence in the restroom hadn't registered until he spoke.

"just, uh," you pondered as to whether or not to voice your concerns, but his compassionate smile reflecting on the mirror made you decide, "i was thinking that maybe you'd like it better if i dressed differently? you know, maybe show more skin?"

you voiced it as a question, insecurities building in you as you sought a direct expression of his preferences.

"are you kidding? i like how you dress. and it's not really something that bothers me. you're comfortable and you're beautiful. it's a win-win situation for me," he kind of chuckled as he spoke, finding your question very sudden and unnecessary.

"oh."

you felt a bit dumb now.

"has this been worrying you? you know i'm like obsessed with you, right? you could wear a trash bag and i'd still be as obsessed," he joked, closing in on you similarly to how he'd done earlier in the day.

he finished his statement with a kiss pressed to your lips, humming when you kissed back.

"this just gives me free reign of your closet. i hope you know that," you jested.

"baby, i'm rich. take whatever you want."

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Dear Lover - Hyunjin

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: fiancè Hyunjin x fem! reader

summary: Your parents have picked a husband for your sister and the two of them have been writing love letters back and forth for years before they meet on their wedding day. There is just one problem: you've been the one sending the letters to her future husband and now you're in love!

warnings: just fluff! some angst, drama, very soft hyunjin, lovesick reader

“Maybe start with why you were the one writing me the letters and not your sister?” Hyunjin’s nostrils flared as he spoke. But his tone wasn’t angry, just confused. You looked exactly how he pictured you from your letters. A softness about you that translated through your words.

“She asked me to. In the beginning, she didn’t want to write to you. So, she asked me to do it instead to make our parents happy.” You pulled at the hem of your shirt, twisting it this way and that while your eyes stayed fixed on the ground. “Please, don't be upset with her.”

Hyunjin stepped back for a moment. His eyes searched yours as the two of you finally locked onto one another. Eyes that he had pictured late at night. A face he had only seen in his dreams. Everything he had said in the letter was true. He was in love, just not with your sister. But the wedding was planned, the invitations sent out.

It was springtime when the letters first began. You remember the sound of birds chirping outside your bedroom window when your parents made the announcement that your sister was to be wed on the year of her 21st birthday.

“But I don’t want to marry someone I’ve never met!” She screamed. You were only partially paying attention. You were no longer the focus of your parents' attention. You were twenty-four now and practically a spinster. Your sister was going to have her wedding the very next spring. One year. She had one year to comply and accept what was happening.

“We’ve already failed with your older sister, we will not fail with you.” Your father boomed. His fat finger pointed sternly at you.

While your little sister protested for a few weeks, she ultimately agreed upon the marriage if she could at least see who she was to be betrothed to. But letters are all his family would agree to. A stern, traditional family that negotiated the terms of advised letters to be written once a week for one year until the wedding day. Meetings were held in secret by the patriarchs of the two families. Hands were shook and large cigars were smoked in celebration of the upcoming union. Then one cool spring night, your sister came knocking at your door with a favor to ask.

“You’re a writer. Just write the letters for me and make me sound good okay?” She begged, her hands folding together while her eyes pleaded with you.

Reluctantly you agreed. One week after the other, you tried your best to sound like your sister. You wrote about her interests instead of your own. You included her favorite color and her favorite kind of food. But somewhere down the line, you slipped. Hyunjin had written about a favorite book of yours – Little Women. He had written paragraphs discussing the different characters and the depth of their description and diversity from one another. He had gushed about the writing style and the eloquent use of simile and metaphors. And your heart fluttered, fluttered and flipped in a way that was new and exciting. Your next letter was completely you. It was your voice, your thoughts, your ideas. The words just flowed out of you like wine and you would feel almost drunk by the time you signed your sister’s name at the bottom.

Hyunjin would soon write about more personal subjects; his fears and insecurities. Of which you felt a kinship with. You would respond with words of comfort and love, thanking him for being so open and vulnerable with you. You would tell him about a beautiful sunset you saw or the lovely sound that snow made when you take a step early in the morning. Hyunjin would tell you how ready he was to hear that sound. How eager he was to hold you, to hear your laugh and touch your lips at last-

When everything was said and done, you knew the exact moment that things had gone too far. You had said “I love you” in your final letter before the wedding. Hyunjin had responded that he was on his way and that he “loved you more that there were stars in the sky.”

You held that last letter tightly in your hands as the all black town car pulled into the driveway of your family home. You would see him, finally see him, and he would see you. Only you would be a shadow cast behind your sister. Hyunjin could never know that those words were not hers. He would marry her and you would go back to your life before. As Hyunjin slowly stepped out of the car, the sunlight shone through his hair like a beacon. His forearm flexed as he gripped the car door and closed it behind him. He stood still for a moment, his eyes flicking between you and your sister until his gaze finally landed on you. Your sister hastily stepped in front of you and introduced herself. Hyunjin shook his head for a second to break the stare between the two of you before smiling warmly at your sister. He held her tightly, his long arms sweeping around her waist and pulling her close to his chest.

“I am so happy to meet you in person, my love!” He exclaimed, his hand coming up to cradle your sister’s face.

Dinner was a complete blur. The clanking sound of silverware and glasses swirled around your ears while your mind drifted further and further from the dining room. The voices of your family were distant, just an echo of a sound as you attempted to keep your food down. After dinner, Hyunjin and your sister snuck off somewhere in the house to be alone. You made your way up to your room and lied on your bed, willing your brain to erase the last year so the heaviness in your chest would subside.

“Fine! Okay? I didn’t write those stupid letters! But that doesn’t mean anything, right?” your sister shouted from the other side of the wall. You stayed in bed and made your way to the wall that divided your two rooms to see if you could hear anything. “She’s a loser! You don’t want her!” Your sister screamed.

“If she is the one that wrote all those letters, then I do. I do want her.”

Your heart dropped. You moved your head away from the wall and turned to face your bedroom door as you heard footsteps approach.

“Please, don’t be upset with her.”

“I’m not upset with her.” Hyunjin took a step closer, closing the gap between the two of you. “You look just as I imagined.” He whispered, his breath brushing softly against your neck.

Your breath hitched as he moved closer. Your hands move instinctively to his waist. Your hips coming into contact with his as his hands move down your back and come to rest at your sides. He leans into your ear and speaks in a low tone. A secret shared just between the two of you. Something intimate that nothing in this world could penetrate. “You’re the one I want to marry. You’re the bride I have been waiting for.”

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat

[fearecia]

Huh. Yeah. Far as I know, this isn't a common thing in the US. But also, neither is taking off your shoes when you go inside (though that seems to be a bit more common, depending on the household).

Are you in the US? Are your parents from another culture? This mindset screams "Japanese" to me, but that's probably because I associate the whole "you have inside shoes and outside shoes and never shall the two be confused" with Japanese culture. I also associate the willingness to wear masks when ill with them as well*. So I'm wondering if you grew up in a family with a different cultural background and that's why you're facing what I would consider to be "culture shock."

Conversely, I've worked in healthcare. And it ironically had kind of the opposite effect on me. Like, after the literal shit I've been exposed to, I'm seriously not worried about what's in the general environment. Of course I still wash my hands whenever I'm doing food prep, but I'm generally not worried about it when I'm out in public. I sort of consider anything I come into contact with as a way to keep my immune system trained up and active so that I'm less likely to get sick. Exposure therapy, if you will. That doesn't apply to anything obviously disgusting; I keep my hands to myself and avoid touching excess stuff. I also don't just go out to go out, so there's a lot less exposure in general for me, so that may play into things. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Of course I'm super OCD about washing my hands whenever I'm doing anything healthcare/client/other people related. I'm just less concerned in general about myself, if that makes any sense.

*Please note that I am terrible at differentiating all peoples and cultures ftom each other and I'm very well aware of it. My labels are very often wrong/incorrect/likely fueled by bad stereotypes. I'm only associating this with Japanese peoples and their culture because my brain is screaming that it's isolated to them and not a generalized Asian cultural mindset, and I'm half remembering images from some educational show about it. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but know that I'm not trying to be an ass. This is one of those things where because my brain has not had a good reason/enough exposure to all the distinctions, it positively refuses to remember things, and I constantly get stuck in generalizations. No offense intended, I swear.

I'm also face blind and literally cannot physically tell the difference between different peoples, so that doesn't help either.

in the vein of "how do you stay safe from getting sick", I wanna say that something I always noticed as a kid was that a lot of the time when I went to people's houses and we would leave at some point to the mall or the park or something and then come back home…I don't remember any of them washing their hands when we got back inside. they'd just immediately lead me back to their room or the living room or something, and then I'd feel incredibly self-conscious about going to their bathroom to wash my own hands. and I always thought it was absolutely bizarre because the way I was raised, the first thing you do when you come back home after taking your shoes and jacket off is go wash your hands. it's common sense. why on planet earth would you not wash your hands. you've just been touching a hundred public surfaces that could have anything on them and you think as soon as you set foot in your own house all the germs you've picked up just evaporate? it's absolutely insane to me to know that so many people don't bother washing their hands. WASH YOUR HANDS.

[aventurineswife]

aventurine, sunday, and any others when reader pretends to not remember them after a bad injury hehe…[angst with fluff at the end] i love giving my poor babies heart attacks mwahaha

anyways love u and ur writings btw k byeee drink water ok byeee 💕✨

“I'm sorry, but who are you?”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Fluff, Light Humor Angst to Fluff, Established Relationship, Memory Loss, Reassurance.

Warnings: Emotional distress (brief moments of fear and confusion).

A/N: thanks for reminder, anon! 😪😮‍💨I really need to drink some water

Aventurine's eyes widened, his usual playful smirk faltering as you looked at him, confusion clouding your gaze. He reached out, as though instinctively wanting to close the distance between you, but he hesitated. Your words cut through the air, soft and fragile.

"You… you are… who exactly?"

The words stung more than he expected. His heart raced in his chest as he observed the faint, distant look in your eyes. He had always been in control of the game, masterful in reading people, but this? This was a blow to his carefully constructed facade.

"You don’t remember me?" His voice was softer now, the bravado slipping as his pulse quickened.

You shook your head, an empty feeling creeping into your chest. "I don’t think so. Sorry… am I supposed to?"

Aventurine's smile faltered, and for a moment, you saw something raw beneath his cool exterior. Pain. Fear. He stepped back slightly, trying to hide the cracks forming in his walls.

"I suppose I’ve miscalculated…" he muttered to himself, voice barely audible.

But then, you reached out and touched his arm gently.

"I—"

Aventurine looked at you, his breath catching in his throat as you softly smiled. "I do remember you, though. Maybe I was just… testing you?"

The game was on again, but this time, it was different. He chuckled, a soft, relieved sound that made the weight of his worries lift just a little.

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice returning to its usual lighthearted tone, though there was an underlying tenderness now.

You smiled. "I think I’ll keep you on your toes."

And with that, the shadows of doubt lifted, replaced by the warmth of your presence—one he could no longer imagine being without.

Sunday stood there, his eyes darkened with a mix of concern and confusion, staring at you as if you were a stranger. His fingers twitched slightly, an impulse to reach out, to make sure you were real, that you hadn’t slipped into some other world.

"You… you don’t recognize me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, fragile under the weight of his own disbelief.

You blinked at him, the blank look in your eyes unnerving him more than he cared to admit. "I’m sorry… I don’t think I do. Are we… close?"

The air between you seemed to freeze, thick with unspoken emotions. His mind was racing—how could you forget him, forget everything you had shared? The kindness, the warmth, the bond he’d built so carefully with you...

"I see," Sunday murmured, his gaze softening with a hint of sadness. "I suppose it’s a part of the dream, isn't it? To forget… to lose everything."

You could see the strain in his expression, the hope fading from his eyes. "Sunday, I… I didn’t mean to forget you."

You reached for him, your hand trembling as you touched his sleeve. The contact seemed to pull him out of his thoughts, and his breath caught.

A moment of stillness.

Then Sunday smiled faintly, the sadness still lingering. "I suppose we’ll just have to make you remember, won't we?" His voice was gentle, though you could hear the underlying fear in it.

You smiled, this time with a reassurance he needed. "I think I already do."

A sigh escaped him, a soft, grateful breath as he pulled you into his arms.

"Don't ever scare me like that again." he murmured into your hair, holding you close.

Ratio’s usual air of unshakable confidence was nowhere to be seen. He stood before you, his eyes wide with confusion and an almost frantic edge to his movements.

"You—don’t remember me?" he repeated, his voice betraying a crack he hadn’t expected.

You stared at him, trying to piece together the fragments of the world around you, the details of his appearance leaving you more unsettled than anything. "I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I know you."

His frown deepened, his expression unreadable but filled with something you couldn't quite place—was it hurt? Disbelief?

"I see. This is… unfortunate," he said, voice smooth yet tinged with something that didn’t fit. He folded his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing slightly. "I expected better from your memory."

You looked at him more closely, sensing a vulnerability underneath the sharpness of his demeanor. He was, despite his intellectual brilliance, losing himself in this.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, your hand reaching for his, gently catching his wrist. "I’m sorry… but I’m sure we’ve met before. I just—"

He paused, his sharp breath catching in his throat as he looked down at your hand on his. For a brief moment, his composure cracked, and you could see the raw emotion behind his usually controlled facade.

"Don't do this to me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the weight of the situation was too much to bear. "You must remember."

You smiled softly, understanding now. "I remember. You’re the one who always insists on teaching me things."

His gaze softened instantly, a relieved exhale leaving him. "Good."

Ratio’s usual brilliance returned, but this time, there was something gentler about him. "Perhaps next time, try not to lose your memory so easily."

And though his words were sharp, his hand reached out to take yours, a reassurance that you were not lost to him.

Me lmaoo

[httpdwaekki]

massage | l.m. - s.c. - h.h. - y.j.

summary: you're sore and stressed but luckily your boy is there to help. collab w/ @giddyfatherchris <3

wc | ss: 5.4k | 5

warnings: fem! reader, use of noona (jeongin), nudity (not sexual), descriptions of pain, definitely typos bc i wrote most of these a long time ago, probably more but you get the generally consensus.

a/n: i would like to give ilya a formal apology for how long it took me to write these, truly an egregious amount of time LMAO. but she never rushed me once and i love n appreciate that more than she knows. also made these way longer than they needed to be but, anyway! i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3. (also sorry if the writing style feels different for some, i wrote these months apart so it might get weird lol)

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

part 1 | my library

banners by cafekitsune

(photos are not mine! credit to owners!)

minho

wc: 1.5k | ss: 1

you didn’t argue it further knowing it was futile.

he wraps an arm around your waist as you both say your goodbyes, helping you walk back to the car. you were both spending the day with his members, chan had found a new trail he wanted to explore, inviting all the members and you to tag along.

about half way into the trail your ankle started to flare up, causing you to start limping. it was an old injury that just didn’t heal correctly so being on it for long periods of time causes pain as well as swelling. you tried to hide it because you were having a good time but minho clocked it almost immediately.

once you were sat in the car, minho rounded the car, popping the trunk of the car to grab something. he opens the door, sitting while placing a bag in your lap before starting the car. “what’s this?” you asked softly, opening the bag.

“i figured your feet would hurt after walking for so long so i brought comfier shoes for you.” he explains as you pull out your crocs and a pair of soft socks. you stick out your bottom lip, heart warming from the kind gesture. you kick your old shoes off, replacing them with the softer pair, placing the old ones back in the bag.

“thank you 자기야.” leaning over, giving him a kiss on his slightly pink cheek, settling back in your chair. he smiles, putting the car in gear before grabbing your hand, looking into your eyes as he places a kiss to the back of it. “anything for you.” he whispers against your skin, dropping your joined hands in his lap before taking his foot off the brake.

the ride home was silent beside the music softly playing in the background as minho drove. you leaned towards him, hissing as your ankle and foot began to feel tender. he squeezes your hand, placing a kiss to it, rubbing soothing circles to the back of it.

“we’ll be home soon 야기.” you nod, trying not to think about the throbbing pain, focusing more on the passing landscape. 

soon the car pulls up to your shared apartment, luckily there was an open spot in front of your building. you unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle, letting go of his hand before he grabs it again. you pause, looking at him confused, “what’s wrong?” you ask softly.

“just wait a second, let me help you.” he waits for a response, big eyes staring into yours. you nod, allowing him to help. he smiles, placing one last kiss to the back of your hand before unbuckling, making his way to your side.

he opens the door, pointing to the bag by your feet, “let me take that first.” you hand it over before carefully scooting to the edge of the seat. he puts the bag on his back before reaching down for you.

you take his hands, planting your feet on the ground, hissing at the slight pressure you put on the sore appendage. “take your time, okay? don’t push it.” he says, rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand once more. you nod, taking a deep breath before carefully standing up.

he helps pull up the extra weight, helping you lean against him a bit once at your full height. once you move out of the way, you push the door closed as minho adjusted his grip on your waist.

“ready?” you nod, smiling as you slowly limp your way to your door, suddenly thankful you lived on the first floor. he quickly unlocks the door, placing the bag to the side before slipping off his shoes.

“do you need help?” he asks, pointing to your feet still in your crocs. you shake your head before holding onto his arm, slipping your feet out of the shoes cautiously. he helps you to your room where he sits you down on the bed before opening the closet.

“do you wanna take a shower now or later?” he asks, rummaging through clothes for something more comfortable for both of you to change into. you thought about it for a second, knowing you probably should, but just wanting to relax and stay off your foot.

“i’ll shower a little later, once it starts feeling better.” you respond as he walks over with two sets of clothes in hand. he places yours down next to you, “do you want help getting changed?” you nod your head before answering, ���maybe with the shorts, please.” you smiled up at him.

“of course 야기.” he says, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead while reaching for your shorts. he taps your thigh, then his shoulder, causing you to stand up, balancing on his shoulder.

“i’m gonna unbutton these now, okay?” he asks, his fingers brushing the metal of your pants. you nod before he undoes the button, pulling down the zipper, sliding his hands into the fabric, pulling it down your legs.

you lift each leg to let him take the fabric off them, wincing as you put pressure on the hurt one. he kisses the leg of your hurt ankle, rubbing it softly as he tosses your pants to the side. he grabs the shorts on the edge of your bed, getting them ready for you to step in safely.

“ just one more time 자기야 .” he says, waiting for you to step into them. you adjust your grip on his shoulders one last time before stepping into it. you bite your lip in pain, as you slip the second leg into the fabric, letting him pull them up your legs completely. 

he places a kiss to each thigh before you sit back down. “thank you, min.” you smile before he gets up, leaving a kiss on your lips as he goes. “anything for you, 야기.” he smiles back before grabbing his stack of clothes on the bed.“i’ll be right back okay?” you nod and watch as he walks into the bathroom not bothering to shut the door. 

you slip off your shirt, replacing it with a softer, bigger one, throwing the old fabric in the same direction as your pants. you get up to walk (limp) your way to the kitchen to grab a cold compress before you relax.

you made it to the door before minho leaves the bathroom. “what do you think you’re doing?” he asks from the doorway, his hands full of medicine, lotions and wraps. “i’m going to get a cold compress from the freezer?” you ask in a small voice, feeling like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“sit back down before you make it worse please.” he scolds, pointing to the bed as best he could with full arms. “but i-” you cut yourself dramatically points to the bed once more. you sigh, shuffling your way back to the bed, where you sit down once more.

he walks over, setting everything down on the foot of the bed before gently grabbing your leg, slotting himself between them, placing the hurt one on his lap. he grabs the medicated lotion, lightly massaging the swollen area.

“oh that feels nice.” you sigh, sinking into the pillows behind you as he continues his work. he does that for a good 15 minutes, pausing when he hits a particularly sore spot before continuing with a softer touch.

you didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until he finishes wrapping up your foot and ankle, grabbing a pillow to place under it. “i’ll be right back love.” he whispers, placing a kiss to your hair before leaving the room.

he comes in a few moments later, with more supplies in hand. he places a water bottle, snack and medicine bottle on your bedside table before, carefully placing the compress to your ankle. he gently presses down, pulling a sigh from you as you feel the cold seep through the wrap.

he grabs the snack bar, opening it before handing it to you, who happily takes a bite out of the sweet bar. he opens the bottle of water, trading with you once you finish your snack. he watches you take a couple sips before opening the medicine bottle, holding out 2 pills for you.

you take them from him, putting them in your mouth as he grabs the trash to throw out. he enters the room once again with another water bottle, placing it next to yours.

he grabs a blanket carefully laying it on top of you before making his way to the other side of the bed. he turns on the show you’re watching together before settling in next to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“thank you for taking care of me, my love.” you whispering, leaning into him, placing a kiss to the arm closest to you. he tightens his arms around you, placing a kiss to your hair, “anything for you, 자기야 .” you smile, melting into him, where you both stay for the rest of the night.

changbin

wc: 1.1k | ss: 1

you weren’t technically lying, you were tired. you didn’t tell the whole truth either.

it was your fault, truly, you worked out yesterday, didn’t properly stretch and you certainly didn’t drink enough water after your workout. you were so worried about some work to finish up that you forgot about it.

so unfortunately this led to you getting a charley horse in not one, but both calves. you had woken up this morning, stretched and both of your calves immediately seized up. the pain was immediate and lasted for about a minute.

you probably should’ve told bin but, you didn’t feel like getting lectured on top of everything else you had going on. plus, he had enough going on, he didn’t need to worry about your silly little muscle cramp.

you were moving around-semi fine. it did hurt to walk and your legs feel super tight but it was nothing to worry about- and certainly not for changbin to stress over. that was short-lived however, as soon as he arrived at your apartment, he clocked you immediately.

“what did you do?” he asked as soon as you opened the door.

“what? no hi baby! how are you? how was your day?” you pouted. “all i get is a what did you do?” you said in your best bini impression. “yeah it is because you hurt my baby and not even you can get away with that.” he shot back.

you roll your eyes at his comment. “will you at least get inside before you chastise me.” you widen the door to allow him to pass. once inside, he sets his bag and keys down while kicking off his shoes.

“so?” he asks, looking at you. “i just got a charley horse bin, i’m fine.” you reassure him softly. you saw it in his face as soon as the words left your mouth.

you quickly raise your hand as he opens his mouth. “i know, i don’t want to hear bin please, i just want to lay down.” you say, feeling defeated and tired. “okay bunny.” he sighed, grabbing your hand, placing it around his waist before wrapping his arms around you.

you both stay there for a minute before bini pulls away, places a kiss on your cheek. “can i carry you to bed?” you nod before he picks you up bridal style, pulling a squeak from you in surprise. you quickly wrap your arms around his neck and he carries you to your room.

he carefully lays you down on your soft mattress before walking into your bathroom. he walks back out, massage oil and towel in his hand.

you move to sit up, giving him space, getting ready to give him a massage. but when you look up, he’s just staring at you, almost hurt.

“what are you doing?”

you tilt your head in confusion. “sitting up to give you a massage.” you say, eyes big as you look at him. he walks over to you shaking his head, “no bunny, lay back, i’m giving you one.” he sets the folded towel and oil at the edge of the bed before moving your leg to sit.

“but i told you i’d give you one.” you mumbled, your eyes following his movements. “did you really think i’d make you give me one when you’re clearly tired and hurting?” you look down as you realized how silly it sounded.

“baby,” he places a gentle hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at you. “why don’t you ever let me take care of you?” he asked, eyes filled with love and concern. you shrug, “i’m just not used to asking for or receiving it i guess.”

his thumb gently rubs the soft skin of your cheek, “will you let me take care of you please?” he asks softly.his thumb gently rubs the soft skin of your cheek, “will you let me take care of you please?” he asks softly.

you give him a small nod. “okay.” he smiles, leaning forward to cover your face in kisses, before you giggle, softly pushing him away. “binnie!” you squeak. “okay okay.” he giggles, backing away.

he goes to help you lay back but not before stealing one last kiss. you try to act annoyed but your smile gives you away. “do you want to watch frieren?” he asks as he helps you move your pillows and blanket to get comfy.

“yes please.” you reply, fixing the soft blanket he placed over you. he hands you the remote for the tv before sitting down, placing your legs atop his. he puts the towel under your legs before putting some of the oil in his hands, gently rubbing the tight muscle.

“let me know if it hurts okay?” you give him a quick nod and smile before pressing play, snuggling under the soft fabric. he adds a little more pressure, you let out a small noise, the muscle feeling tender.

he immediately stops, “are you okay?” you nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “it’s just tender, it feels good though.” he guy, understanding, continue his massage, a tad bit lighter.

you both stay like that for at least 20 minutes, binnie switching legs half way through. it only took a few of those twenty to drift off, not fully sleeping but definitely not conscious.

until binnie stopped his movements, gently wiping away the excess oil. you open your eyes and look down, admiring the sweet boy in front of you.

once finished with the task at hand he meets your eyes and pauses. you give him a sleepy smile before making grabby hands to him. he giggles, moving your legs, throwing the towel to side, carefully laying on top of you.

you wrap your arms around him as he places kisses all of your face, pulling giggles from you in the process.

he stops for a moment and admires you, “what?” you ask softly. he shakes his head, “you know i love you right? and i’ll always be here to take care of you.” he’s looking at you with so much love. you nod your head, bring one hand to his soft cheek.

“i know, baby, and you know the same goes for your right?” your thumb gently rubbing the skin as he nods. he quickly leans down, placing a loving kiss to your plush lips before rolling over, pulling you into his chest.

he pulls a blanket over both of you, letting you get comfy, handing you your plushie before wrapping his arms around you. “love you so much bunny, okay?” he reassures once more, placing a kiss to your temple.

you sink further into him, placing a kiss above his heart, “you love you too, my binnie, so much.”

hyunjin

wc: 1.3k | ss: 2

to say you felt overwhelmed was an understatement.

you knew hyunjin would do anything for you, he’d drop everything if you asked him too. however, you never did, always worrying about burdening or annoying him no matter how much you preached the opposite.

you were stressed out, in pain and on top of that feeling so guilty. because not only did you cancel on your boyfriend and his friends but now, you made your boyfriend also cancel on his friends.

so now here you were, sitting on your couch, still in your work clothes, tears streaming down your face as the guilt, stress and pain overwhelmed your senses. 

so much so that you were unaware of said boyfriend using his key to enter your apartment.

he was immediately alarmed by the uneven breathing coming from your couch. he made quick work of discarding his shoes and bags before finding the source of the noise.

“hey, hey, angel what’s going on?”

he rounded the furniture as shot up, looking at him. “i’m sorry.” you sobbed, covering your face in the process. he quickly makes his way to you, kneeling in front of you, one hand on your head, thumb brushing your forehead.

second hand gently rubbing the arm closest to him. “hey, what’s going on, hm? what are you apologizing for?” you feel him rest his chin on your shoulder.

you shake your head slightly, feeling suffocated under all the negative emotions. “breathe baby, breathe.” he pulls your hands from your face in an attempt to help you breathe better.

“can you sit up for me?” he whispers, thumb still rubbing soothing circles on your forehead. you shake your head, “it hurts.” you whimper, turning to face him.

“your back?” you nod, unshed tears gather in your eyes. he leans forward, placing a kiss to your forehead. “okay, will you let me help you? i just wanna help you feel better but you gotta sit up okay?” 

he can see the stress in your face, “it’ll be okay, okay? i promise. i just wanna get you to the bathroom so i can run you a bath okay?” you’d be lying if you said that didn’t sound divine.

you nod your head slightly, prompting him to give you a kiss before readjusting. “okay my baby, i’m gonna help you sit up before you stand okay?” 

“okay.” you nod, already holding your breath in preparation. he gives you his arm to hold as you pull yourself up. he gives you a countdown before pulling you up, moving your legs to the side of the couch.

you hiss in pain as you finally sit up, “you did so good for me baby.” he places a kiss to your temple. he stands, putting a hand out for you to grab.

you prepare yourself to follow him, as you grab his hand, taking a deep breath before pulling yourself up, “ow.” you whimpered before stumbling into him.

he catches you before you can fall, bringing you into his arms. a few tears shed as the pain shoots through your lower back, gripping hyunjin’s hand, letting out a few labored breaths..

he rubs your back gently and your head. rests against him, trying to breathe through the pain. “you’re doing so good baby, you’re halfway there. let me know when you’re ready.” you nod your head, taking one last deep breath.

“okay, i’m ready” you mumble. he turns as you grab his arm to hold as you walk. you focus on your breathing the whole way to the bathroom before he helps you lean against the counter.

“do you think you can stay like this while i get the bath ready?” he asks, eyes filled with concern and worry. you nod, giving him a small smile, “thank you hyune.” you say, bringing a hand up to rub his cheek.

“anything for you my love.” he says before grabbing your hand, placing a kiss to your palm.

you watch as he sets up the bath, starting the water, making it as hot as he can take it before adding the epsom salt and bubbles. once everything was added he made his way over to you. 

“i’m gonna help you undress okay?” you nod your head before carefully lifting your arms. he grabs the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, tossing it to the side.

he reaches behind you, undoing the clasp to your bra, kissing each shoulder and he pulls the straps down. “my beautiful muse.” he hums, giving your bra the same fate as your shirt.

you shiver, feeling exposed but the movement once again made the pain shoot up your spine. “ah.” you hiss, taking a deep breath once more. “i know baby, i’m sorry. just a little longer.” 

he makes quick work of unbuttoning your jeans, cautiously pulling them down each leg. once they were pulled down, he did the same with your underwear. “okay hold my shoulder while i take them off.”

once he feels your hands grip his shoulders, he taps one leg, prompting you to lift it. he does the same to the other leg before once again tossing the fabric aside.

“there we go, i’m gonna help you get in then i’ll join you okay?” you nod before grabbing his hands once more.

he helps you step in, holding you steady as you sit down. you let out a sigh of relief as the hot water soothed your spine. you lean back, hyune placing a kiss to your temple before leaving you.

he searches through your cabinet before grabbing the massage oil, placing it to the side of the tub. he quick undresses, as you slowly shift forward, giving him space behind you.

he shuts off the water before he steps in, carefully sitting behind you. you go to sit back before he stops you. “hold on baby, i’m gonna try and massage it a bit okay?”

you pout, “but that’s my job.” he shaked his head, dark hair swishing back and forth with it. “not today, today i’m here to make you feel better.” he says before putting some oil hands, warming it up a bit.

“can you lean forward a bit or does it hurt?” you slowly cross you legs before carefully leaning forward. you felt a slight stretch in your lower back, letting out a sigh. hyunjin’s hands lay against your back, thumbs rubbing soft circles.

“you okay baby?” you nod a bit. “i’m good.” you mumble, trying to relax a bit more. hyunjin’s hands glide across your back with ease, stopping at each knot, giving it extra attention.

you were basically falling asleep when he came across a particularly sore spot, a gasp from you. he immediately stops his hands, resting them on your back.

“i’m sorry, baby.” you shake your head. “it’s okay, just a little tender now.” he places his hands on your sides, pulling you back slightly, carefully bringing you to him.

you gently lay against his back, sighing as you feel the hot water surround you from the shift. he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer, placing a kiss to the side of you head.

“i wish you would’ve told me it was this bad.” he mumbles into your ear, playing with the bubbles around you.

you lean your head against his, “i’m sorry.” you play with his fingers, stopping his movements in the bubbles. “you have so much going on and i didn’t wanna add to that.”

you felt his head shift next to you. “hey,” you turn your head to him, “no matter what i have going on, i wanna be there for you when you’re hurting okay?”

you swallow the lump in your throat, nodding your head. “promise?” he asks, taking his hand to grab yours, lacing your fingers together. “i promise.” you lean fully into him, basking in the moment.

once the water ran cold, hyunjin helped you out of the tub, and into some comfy clothes. once he got you settled in your bed with your heating pad, he ordered dinner before joining you in bed. 

and that is how you stayed for the rest of the night (apart from hyunjin grabbing your food) wrapped in the arms of your favorite boy, feeling much better than before.

jeongin

wc: 1.3k | ss: 1

you were were getting ahead on some prep for your bakery when jeongin texted you. you started wrapping up the strawberries you prepped for the cheesecakes the next day, dating them before going to put them in the cooler.

but as you turned around, container of red fruit in hand, you felt a jolt of pain in your knee before it gave out. luckily you were close enough to the countertop you were able to set the fruits down safely before finding your footing.

you look down and find your knee to find it swollen, fighting against the fabric of your pants. you sigh gently massaging it, hissing slightly as a shock of pain spreads through your knee. you place weight on your knee, finding it stronger than before but still weak.

you carefully making way your way to the cooler placing them gently inside. you turn around, placing your hands on your hips, looking at the kitchen around you, feeling proud of what you accomplished.

you were also thanking your past self for asking ryujin to clean the floors before she left because there’s no way you would’ve been able to. you made your way over to your work station, wiping down the table and discarding your trash. 

you turn off all the lights, and headed out the door just in time to see jeongin’s car pull around the corner. you waved and gave him a smile, locking the door behind you. you walked to the car trying (and failing) to hide your limp.

seeing this jeongin immediately parked the car, getting out to meet you halfway. “hi bubba.” you smiled as he approached you. “hi noona,” he gives you a quick hug and peck on the side of your head before pulling away.

“what’s going on with your knee?” he asks, voice laced with concern. “nothing, it’s just a little sore-” he cuts you off. “noona, i love you but if you say it's nothing to worry about i’m gonna lose it.” you giggle and shake your head.

“there’s nothing to worry about, my knee gets like that every once and a while i’m okay.” you smile, trying to ease his concern. “i’d believe that if i didn’t just watch you limp over here.” he says, folding his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“ while i appreciate the concern,” you smile, you unfold his arms, sliding your hands in his, “i promise i am fine, it’s just a little swollen and sore. nothing a little ice and aspirin can’t fix.” you place a kiss on his cheek, moving to get to the car.

well at least you were trying to until your knee gave out once more, causing you to stumble. he catches you before you can fall, wrapping an arm around your waist, “woah! okay y/n, that’s not normal!” he exclaims, helping you stand.

“okay it looks bad but i promise it’s fine, i have it under control.” you tried reassure him, but he wasn’t buying it. “y/n.” his tone was stern and his eyes were worried. you sighed, knowing what had to be done. “i know.” you whispered, looking down. “but i can’t afford to go right now.” he sighed, pulling you into him, placing his arms around you.

“peach, you gotta get this checked out please, you’re making me worried.”  you feel a slight sting behind your eyes, turning your face into his neck, wrapping your arms around him. “don’t worry about the money, okay? but we gotta get this figured out before it gets worse.” he whispers next to your ear, placing a kiss there.

you nod, taking a deep breath, pulling back looking at him. “okay, i’ll call tomorrow.” he smiles, placing a kiss on your temple. “okay good, now let’s go home hm?” you sniffle nodding. “yes please.”

he walks you to the car, helping you in the car, closing the door and making his way to the driver’s side. he grabs your hand, placing it on your thigh as he started the journey home. once he pulls into the parking lot of your complex, helps you out of the car.

“we’re gonna take it slow okay?” you go to open your mouth but quickly shut it, seeing the stern look on his face. you grab the hand he holds out, slowly make your way up the flight of stairs, one by one.

once making it into the apartment, you both kick off shoes, making your way into your room. “go shower, i’ll grab your clothes and towel for you.” he squeezes your hand as you part ways. you slowly make your way to your ensuite while he heads to your closet.

you turn on the water, making sure it’s set to warm the ridding yourself of your work clothes. once naked, you double check the temperature of the water before carefully stepping in, making sure to find your balance against the wall. 

you heard a knock on the door before it opens, “peach?” he calls out, “i got your towel and some comfy clothes for you, i’m gonna set them on the counter okay?” you hear as he places the collection on the counter. “okay, thank you i.n-ah.” your heart warms at the act, wondering how you got so lucky. he takes a seat on the toilet, taking out his phone, scrolling through a delivery app.

“noona, what do you want for dinner?” he asks, “i was thinking ramen.” you can’t help the smile on your face as you sit under the water. “that sounds perfect.” 

you both fall into casual conversation as you finish your shower and he finishes your order. you turn off the water and peek around the curtain, finding jeongin standing with your towel in hand. you reach your hand but he pulls it away before you can. he leans forward, “kiss please.” he purses his lips, waiting.

you giggle, rolling your eyes before giving him a quick kiss, “pleasure doing business with you.” he smiles, handing you the soft fabric. you wrap the towel around you, stepping out of the shower as jeongin walks about into your room, giving you privacy to get dressed.

you quickly dry off, carefully getting dressed, leaning on the sink to put on your shorts. you walk back into your room to find jeongin on your bed with lotion and massage oil next to him.

he smiles as you enter the room, patting the spot next to him, signaling you to take a seat. you make your way over, sitting against the pillows, being mindful of your knee. once settled he moves to sit in front of you, gently placing your leg on top of his.

“which one?” he asks, holding up the two bottles. “uh, the oil, but only a little please.” he nods, knowing you hate the feeling of anything greasy. he gets to work gently rubbing your knee, making sure to not apply too much pressure.

you both sit in silence while he worked his magic. you took in his side profile, taking this opportunity to truly take in his appearance. his soft skin, his boba eyes, his dimples that peak out every once in a while.

he senses someone looking at him causing him to look up, locking eyes with you. his cheeks become a light pink, “stop staring at me, weirdo.” he mumbles, continuing his task on your knee. you gasp in offense, “you're lucky my knee hurts or i’d kick you.” you pout, sinking into the pillow behind you.

he giggles before placing a kiss to your knee, moving to rub the underside of our knee. you hiss but soon relax as he works the sore muscle. you fall into conversation once more, him recounting his day as you relax further and further into the bed.

you end up falling asleep halfway through his story about hyunjin’s cuteness aggression halting dance practice once more. he looks over as soft breaths leave your lips, careful moving and placing your legs on the bed and a soft blanket over you.

placing a kiss on your forehead he leaves to prepare bowls, utensils and drinks for dinner, only waking you once it arrives. he brings it in with all other necessities to help soothe the pain in your knee, spending the rest of the night pampering you and icing your knee.

do not repost

i hope you all enjoyed! i kinda got lost in the sauce and made these alot longer than they should've lol but hopefully they're still good! please let me n ilya know what u think! love u guys <33

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[gilbertscurls]

heyy girl first of alll your writing is the best and best writer here and your fluff is just AHHHH i really wait everyday for u to post so i got a request fans edit Chris and reader to no.1 party anthem sing by artic monkey mybe its edit of chris talking about her or anything ANDILOVEYOUU

omg you're so nice, i love you!!!! i hope you like it <3

Yapping ➵ Chris Sturniolo

The low hum of the city filtered through the cracked window, mingling with the faint sound of cars drifting up from the street below. You leaned back against the couch, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok as Chris's voice carried from the kitchen. He was rummaging through cupboards, probably looking for the last pack of his favorite snack, his faint mutterings punctuating the quiet.

It was the kind of lazy day where time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Your thumb swiped up the screen, passing by dance trends, funny memes, and cooking hacks, until something familiar caught your eye.

A video with the hashtag #SturnioloTriplets popped up on your For You page. It was one of those fan-made edits that you occasionally found yourself watching—clips of Chris, Nick, and Matt in their usual chaotic, fun-loving glory. You tapped on it, expecting a montage of their latest shenanigans.

But what you saw made your heart skip a beat.

The video opened with Chris sitting in front of the camera, a familiar setting that looked like the triplets' car. His usual animated self was present—his hands gesturing wildly, his face full of that vibrant energy he was known for. It was one of his “yapping” sessions, where he rambled on about anything that popped into his head. But today, instead of talking about a meme or some funny moment with his brothers, he was talking about you.

"Man, I don’t even know how to explain it," Chris was saying, his voice soft but filled with affection. "She just… she’s everything. Every day, she makes me feel like the luckiest guy alive. I mean, I never believed in fate or anything like that, but the second we met? It was like… I don’t know. It just clicked." He paused, running a hand through his hair, his expression shifting to something far more sincere than his usual joking demeanor. "She makes me want to be better, you know? I’m just—I'm so in love with her."

Your heart melted at the sound of his voice, the raw sincerity in his words taking you by surprise. You had heard him say it before, but this… this felt different. As the clip played on, his face softened even more as he continued, "I don’t think she realizes how much she means to me. I could talk about her all day, but she’d probably just roll her eyes at me."

The screen flickered, and then, instead of just his words, the video transitioned into an edit. It was a soft montage of moments—your moments together. A collection of clips pulled from the triplets’ vlogs, his social media posts, and those little private, candid shots that had somehow made it into the public eye. There was a shot of you laughing together in the kitchen, your head thrown back, eyes sparkling as Chris pulled a goofy face. Another was of the two of you walking hand-in-hand, your fingers intertwined in a way that made everything around you feel quiet and still, just the two of you in your own world. There was a shot of you sitting next to him during one of their live streams, both of you leaning in close as he whispered something funny in your ear, making you laugh so hard you almost snorted.

The song lyrics echoed in the background, making the edit even more heartfelt.

It was a perfect blend of those little moments that spoke volumes—subtle, intimate, and filled with love. The video cut back to Chris, a soft smile on his face as he looked into the camera. "I don't think she knows it, but she’s my everything. And I’ll never stop saying that."

The look of love, the rush of blood

The "She's with me"'s, the Gallic shrug

The shutterbugs, the Camera Plus

The black & white and the color dodge

The good time girls, the cubicles

The house of fun, the number one

Party anthem

The video ended with his smiling face and a caption: “Chris Sturniolo, everyone’s favorite yapping sweetheart.” You sat there for a moment, staring at the screen, your heart doing flips in your chest. You had always known how much Chris loved you, but seeing it in this way? It made your chest tighten, a flood of affection and warmth rushing over you.

You looked up just in time to see Chris saunter back into the room, a mischievous grin on his lips.

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asked, collapsing next to you on the couch, his arm slipping behind your shoulders. The scent of him—faint cologne and warmth—enveloped you.

“Just this,” you said, turning your phone towards him, the last frame of the edit paused on his face, mid-laugh.

Chris’s eyebrows shot up, and then that familiar, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Oh, so you found it, huh? Yeah, I might’ve gone a little overboard that day.”

“No,” you whispered, leaning into him, feeling the beat of your pulse against his. “It was perfect.”

His eyes softened, and for a moment, there was no screen, no city noise, no world outside the two of you. Just the number one party anthem playing between heartbeats.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash, @helpimateenagerinlove

[livelaughloveluffy]

comfort - portgas d. ace

a/n: this is long overdue, but here is finally the ace version and that marks the end of this series!!! i have lots more series planned in the works, however, i like to keep my secrets every now and then, so you'll just have to stay tuned and find out 😌

nothing but fluff here 💗

---------------------------------------------------------------------

when he comforts you:

-like his brother, ace hates to see you sad. while he might not be as outwardly determined as luffy, he definitely puts in more effort than usual to make you laugh or smile.

-he'll never stop to hesitate before he pulls you into his arms, carries you into his bedroom, and give you endless cuddles. using his devil fruit, the feeling of his soft warm tan skin against you is one that brings instant relief. the sound of his soft voice murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. his strong arms wrapped tightly around your body as he gently whispers "i'm not going anywhere"

-ace is both an amazing listener and advice giver. he always knows exactly what to say to comfort and calm you while also either solving your problem or making you feel drastically less stressed about it.

-this man showers you in attention and affection. ace will grab your face and kiss you hundreds of times, or until you smile or giggle, with absolutely zero care for who is around to witness it. his eyes are always on you, and when you catch him staring, he'll give you his iconic little smirk. his hand is either intertwined with yours, or placed on your thigh when the two of you are together, he'll run his fingers gently across your skin drawing shapes or lines into you.

-ace does not hesitate to remind you how amazing you are and everything he loves about you. he'll give you a long laundry list of reasons why he is absolutely obsessed with you. never giving you time to doubt yourself.

-when you're sick, injured, or on your period: you've never been more grateful for your boyfriend being a human heating pad than when you're cramping on your period. no matter the time or place, ace will slide his hands up under your shirt and place them against your stomach, warming them to the perfect temperature to ease your pain. while he is typically a bit clingy in a normal scenario, when you don't feel good, ace absolutely refuses to leave your side. he will be curled up in bed with you the entire time, napping with you, providing cuddles, chatting with you, and all with his charming boyish smile never leaving his face.

when he needs comforting:

-ace really values your opinion and advice. being able to talk to you about his problems is something that took some time to get used to, being an older brother tended to hardwire him to always have the answer, and admitting that he needed help was a struggle at first. since you tend to have an extremely objective and fair stance when it comes to giving advice, it grounds him and calms him down, making him less anxious about any problem he is having.

-despite his confident energy and personality, ace thrives off of praise and words of affirmation. telling him that he's doing a good job, reminding him of his kind nature and character, how much you love him, makes all the different to him.

-physical affection is an instant relief to ace. crawling into his lap wherever he may be, dragging him to bed for cuddles, lots of kisses, constant hand holding, playing with his hair, tracing the tattoo on his arm or back, anything and everything is on the table, as long as you have your hands on him in some way, he'll feel much more at ease.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: i have no idea why i struggled with this ace fic as much as i did, but i simply can no longer look at my laptop anymore 💀

a/n: enjoyed this fic? here's my masterlist!!

[hoodielord]

Grim and Hood

Nightwing 

Gotham Bay Monday 9pm

 Dick didn't know  about Jason's gang or much about his crime lord work in general. But now is a better time than later to learn. Jason had been watching a shipment of chemicals that scarecrow had supposedly ordered. But another issue had come up where Jason was needed. So Jason sent some members of his gang to help with the shipment.This just so happened to include Jason's second in command. 

Dick wasn't expecting this. Jason's second in command was around Jason’s age. He’s a head shorter than Jason.They are lanky though and pale. They wore a skelton mask that covered the lower half of his face. They moved like Cass or Duke; clung to the shadows and moved silently most of the time. It was surprising given their white hair. When it was time to move into fighting they were brutal, not deadly, but enough to break a few bones and incapacitate men twice as built as they were. Everything about them screamed meta.

 This skeleton was definitely a meta of some sort. Quickly they climbed into the rafters of the warehouse. Green eyes glowed as they swept through the warehouse. They were hunting for something. Skeleton’s eyes snapped to a man running for the exit. 

Like a whip they zipped through the rafters and descended on the man. The man shrieked in surprise and swung. But his arm never hit them. No, their arm went through them like he wasn't there. The man freaked blindly and swung at him screaming.

“What are you?!”

The skeleton mask’s fist slammed into the man’s face and the man crumbled. Skeleton dug through the man’s pockets and pulled out a glowing green vial.   

After the fighting was done and the shipment was secured Hood arrived. 

“ Hey Wing.”

“Hey Hood. So who's that?” pointing to them as they worked on helping the injured and tieing up the goons.

“That’s Grim, he does most of the work when I'm not around.”

“ Hey boss, everything's secure!” One of the gang members calls.

“ Good. Okay Sam and Ralph will make sure the shipment is handed off. Bill makes sure these idiots are hauled away by the cops. The rest of you can pack it in for tonight.”

The rest of the gang moves out or to their posts. Except Grim who walks up to Hood.

 “ Hey Grim, you good?”

Grin nods and hands Hood the vial.

“This is probably the new prototype the demented sock puppet was working on.” Their voice had an echo but maybe more like many different voices were speaking as one. 

Hood let out a chuckle at Grim’s remark.

“I’ve never heard that one before.”

Despite, the mask you could tell Grim was smiling but his expression faltered and he wavered.

He mumbles something about overtime and then proceeds to face plant right into Hood's chest.

“Is he alright?”

Hood sighs “ Yeah, he should be alright. He just fell asleep.” Hood mumbles something about bribes and revenge.

“Do I wanna know what you’re planning?”

“Not unless you want the same thing to happen to you,” Hood says as he picks Grim up and throws him over his shoulder.

“See you later, Wing,” Hood said before calling the gang for a car.

----

After a few rings, she picked up.

“Hey, Spoiler.”

“What’s up Hood?”

“If I make you waffles tomorrow would you help me get revenge on RR?”

“Hell yeah! Wait. What kind of revenge?”

“I am thinking more of your kind of revenge.” 

“Deal!”

“Awesome, so here is the plan.” 

----

Tuesday 1am, Jason’s apartment

“Hey, your coworkers said you have the rest of the week off,” Jason said from the kitchen.

“Cool…your brother needed to chill with the overtime. I feel like I did in high school dealing with ghosts.” Danny mumbled from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, I already have that covered.”

“What do you mean?” 

Jason didn’t answer.

“Jason, what are you going to do to your brother?”

“Nothing too bad.”

“Jason.”

“It’s fine, get some more sleep.”

A few seconds pass and then there is a crash in the living room.

“Get back here, intruder!”

“You're literally the one that crawled through the window!”

Jason recognizes that voice and rushes to the living room.“If you don’t stop right now I am not helping clean the barn this weekend!”

Danny was standing on the couch with a crystal blue sword in hand  as Damian looked ready to strike but stopped midswing.

“You promised to help! You dare break your promise! And explain, who is this harlot?”

“Who is this kid and why does he speak like he’s from a period drama?....The fuck is a harlot?” Danny said, still holding tight to his sword ready to block the swing.

Jason sighs,”Demon brat, this is Danny. Danny, this is Demon brat.”

“tt.That explains nothing.”

“Zero net gain of info there, Jay.”

Both of them ease slightly in their stances.

“Demon Brat, why are you here? B do something stupid again?”

“Oh. this is your other little brother.”

Danny released his grip on his sword and it began to dissolve into nothing. At this Damian tightened his grip on his sword.

“ Damian, he’s my friend.”

“Fine…It was Grayson. He was too stifling after tonight." Damian put his short sword away. Jason and Daiman walk into the kitchen as Danny slumps back into the couch.

“Let me guess you got injured?”

“I only required three stitches. He is overreacting.”

“Fine. I got tea. You can only stay for an hour though. Don’t need all the bats to show up on my balcony.”

“That is acceptable ... .You're expecting someone else?”

“Steph is helping me with something…. You’ll see later.” Jason said with a grin.

-----

Noon, Wayne Manor. Dick

Dick was at the manor because he was preparing to cover for Bruce as Batman when he was off-world dealing with a Justice League issue.  

The door into the dining room swung open violently followed by Tim marching in covered in neon green glitter. There was so much glitter that it trailed behind him. 

“ You look like you’re trying to cosplay the riddler. Did Steph do that?” 

Tim just grumbled and held up a light purple sticky note. 

‘Yep, definitely Steph.’ Dick thought, grabbing the note.

 The note read: ‘Jason said you gave your R&D department too harsh a deadline for a project and they had to work double overtime on it. So you get a glitter bomb! 😛 P.S. No, I am not helping you clean it. Yes I got bribed. No, I am not helping you get him back.’

“Why would Jason care about your R&D department? Also double overtime? That's harsh.”

“One of his friends is a part of it.  And I wouldn’t have had to do that if the client wasn’t a total ass about it…Maybe I should send them a glitter bomb….. Anyway, I gave the department the rest of the week off.” Tim mumbles as he rests his head in his arms on the table. 

“First of all , I think the glitter bomb is a bad idea. Secondly, Jason has a friend working at W.E.?”

“Yeah, one of the top engineers. His name is Danny ... .Never introduce him to Steph. I will never see the end of the glitter or worse.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah. He found out someone was stealing his pens. He replaced the ink in them so that the thief was writing in glitter gel ink on official forms. Then there was the time he set up a code on another engineer's computer that would randomly call him an idiot.”

“ What did he do to deserve that?”

“Used and misplaced Danny’s socket set.”

Dick laughed. “Well it’s nice that Jason has another friend.” Dick paused after a moment and said, “We should never introduce him to Roy either.” 

“Oh God, no.”

Thinking about it now Danny was probably Grim. But Tim didn’t need to know that now but knowing him he probably already did.

“You should probably go change.Alfred not going to be happy to see all the glitter too.”

“He should make Jason and Steph clean it.” Tim groaned.

At this time Damian walked into the dining hall and stopped to state at Tim with a knowing grin.

“Gremlin, did you help Steph and Jason with this?”

“No, I would not stoop to that level. Todd had mentioned he and Brown were working on something together.”

Noon same day, Jason’s apartment, Steph

Steph was always up to pranking Tim, well anyone in the Batfamily except Alfred really, but she wanted to know why Jason was defending the R&D department with this revenge thing. So after the prank was pulled she swung by Jason’s apartment.

She climbed into the living room through the fire escape window.

“Hey, I was promised waffles!”

Someone sat up on the couch with wide blue eyes staring at Steph. A mess of black hair flopped in different directions. They have an iron grip on the back of the couch. They're lanky and thin, practically swimming in a 3xl t-shirt. That’s not Jason.

“Nobody I know uses the goddamn door!” Jason yells stomping into the living room. 

Danny and Steph point at each other and turn to Jason.

“Steph, this is my friend Danny. Danny this Steph. Who I am going to personally show the definition of defenestration.”

“Hey you’re the one that promised waffles. And here I helped you with your revenge.” Steph  defended herself.

“Revenge? Waffles? Waffles sound good. Revenge is best cold though or something like that. Waffles not so much. ” Danny said half asleep and then promptly fell back asleep.

“Is he alright?” Steph said, leaning over the couch to see if he was.

Jason sighs “He hasn’t had enough sleep in this past week. Come on, I'll make you your waffles.”

In the kitchen Jason gets to work making Steph her waffles. After a few moments she asks “soooo…is he the reason that you had me glitter bomb Tim’s office?”

“Yep. Last week Danny was helping me with tracking the shipment of Scarecrow's fear toxin that we took care of last night.”

“Danny knows you’re Hood?”

“Yeah, I met him as Jason first then as Hood, he works with the gang.”

“Does Tim know?”

“I mean its a matter of time. Anyway, this week Tim had the R&D department, where Danny works, do more overtime to finish this project hence the glitter bomb.”

“You are the only nerd I know that would use the word hence…. I would never call Alfred a nerd.”

“Understandable but if you call me a nerd again I am burning your waffles.”

“Nooo!”

“Hey how come Danny looked like he was about to run when I yelled?”

“That’s because the gremlin decided to stop by earlier and then proceed to try and hunt Danny for sport.” Jason said, placing the first plate of waffles in front of her.

“Ha, yeah that explains it.” Steph said, taking a bite of her well earned waffles. 

“Soooo want to tell me why he's wearing your t-shirt?”

“No”

Two days later, Gotham bay, Roy

Jason had asked for some help with some experimental tech he was working with. He wasn't expecting to find a new buddy to talk shop with.

Arriving at the warehouse he spots Hood waiting for him by the door.

“Hey Roy.”

“Hey Jaybird, so what’s the tech you wanted to show me?”

“It’s inside, a member of the gang is looking...” 

Hood was cut off by a small explosion from inside the warehouse. Hood and Roy burst into the warehouse. Smoke curls through the air as they rush in.

“Grim! Where are you? Grim!” Hood calls as he moves through the crates and boxes.

“Damn it! Where are you? Danny!” Hood was panicking; it wasn't like him. Who was this Danny person?

There’s a fire up ahead with smoke curling up to the roof. A few shouts from different gang members rush to find the fire extinguishers. Like a bullet, one of the members with snow white hair dressed in all black, rushed forward. They seemed to blast the fire with a wave of ice as other members came in with fire extinguishers. 

“Grim!”  Hood yelled as the one dressed in black seemed to stagger after the fire was out.

Hood rushed forward grabbing them by the shoulders and steadying them.

“Hey Grim. You there?” 

“Hood?” his voice was quiet.

“Yeah it’s me. You okay?”

“Yeah I'm okay.” he still didn’t sound all there.

“Why don't you sit for a bit.”

“Yeah..”

“Okay I’ll be checking everyone else okay?”

Hood helped Grim to one of the crates to sit. Hood and Roy walk away as Grim calms down.

“Jaybird, is he alright?”

Hood sighs “He will be… explosions at close distance send him off sometimes.”

“Bill!”

“Yeah, Boss?” 

“What happened?”

“Grim was working on the device when he just froze suddenly and freaked out, getting everyone away from it. Then it exploded. Nobody’s hurt. How’s he?”

“ He’s calming down now.”

-----

Hood and Roy looked over the wreckage.

“Well I don’t think we are going to get anything from this Jaybird.”

“The device had a secondary trigger.” a voice came from behind Roy.

“Jesus fuck!”

Grim jumped back a little at Roy’s outburst. Hood just laughed at them both.

“Are you sure you’re not a new Bat or something?”

“No. Why would I dress as a bat furry?” Even with the skeleton mask you could tell he had a smirk across his face.

Hood started laughing harder and Roy laughed too.

“I’m Arsenal.” Roy stuck his hand out to Grim.

“Grim.” They said, shaking his hand.

“Grim works as the gang’s second in command. He’s also the tech expert on hand. And this is Arsenal who’s okay with tech.”

“Jaybird I am better than okay.”

“I once saw you jam an arrow into a computer that you couldn’t hack.”

“I didn't have enough time! Plus it worked didn’t it?” Arsenal 

“I mean whatever works.” Grim shrugged.

“See Jaybird he gets it,” Roy turns to Grim “Hey wanna hear about the high powered flamethrower I made?”

“Hell yeah. I made a laser gun out of a microwave once.”

“I am now regretting letting you two meet.”

“Too late!” Grim and Roy exclaimed. Grim’s eyes lit up, literally they were glowing green. 

Hood sighs “Okay but let’s work on the problem at hand first.” he then turns back to Grim, “Also if you ever work together on something I’m telling your sister.”

“Spoilsport.” Grim huffed.

They went to work on the remains of the bomb looking over the components.

“Are you doing okay Grim?”

Grim hummed at his question. “Yeah… this is just my luck huh? I got a week of overtime and almost blew up…”

“But you didn’t. You saved them before it could hurt you or anybody.”

------

[sgiandubh]

Imagine

Imagine you are offered an exciting, well-paid job with an up and coming spirits business, whose owner you happened to sympathize with at a work event. Imagine you really invest yourself in that job and you are so enthusiastic about it, that you even put your own business network to service. Imagine you start seeing the first results of your efforts.

Then imagine that the owner you happened to sympathize with (and who probably recruited you) has a teeny-tiny problem, the amplitude of which was absolutely impossible for you to grasp. He is also an actor and, as many actors who are actively involved in successful cinema/TV productions, he has a fandom. Some things may have been mentioned to you, such as the abusive behavior of 'some' fans - but you really had no idea and you were way too excited to make this new job opportunity work for you. You definitely didn't take any warnings too seriously: you know that series has some sort of cult-ish status and that actor is many ageing women's secret fantasy, all around the world. You probably even think it's definitely corny, but overall these ladies seem harmless enough - plus they seem to show up in droves and buy in bulk, everywhere he goes. You are way too focused on your job to notice any misconduct: you dismiss it with a laugh.

And then, someone, somewhere decides it is your turn. You have excitedly posted a snapshot of a rugby match you have been invited to by the owner of the up and coming spirits company, who happens to have an excellent relationship with the local, prestigious club and is a rugby fan himself. You are over the moon to be a part of an event that allows you to better discern the new type of customers the business hopes to attract, in the foreseeable future. You enjoy the wonderful camaraderie in the galleries: you had no idea about what rugby means to so many different people, wow!

You are, therefore, very surprised to find out some women already started to claim on the Internet you and your boss are an item. This is completely nuts: courtship seldom involves attending a rugby match, in Europe - that much you know. You begin to receive nasty, insinuating DMs on your Instagram page. You perhaps remember one of your boss's friends, a young disabled artist, has very recently been harassed by his fans and had to call the police, in order to make it stop. You decide the best thing you could do is to erase the rugby match pic: too late, it has already been screen capped, shared and discussed. This is how you also find out that some of those women think you have an agenda, that you plan to seduce your boss and that you are, at any rate, a lousy wannabe in the business world and a highly functioning alcoholic, to boot. The ones claiming so are either pretending to be experts or to have SOURCES, based on FACTS. This is beyond your understanding. You may even have a mild panic attack and you definitely feel all of this is: a) ridiculous; b) unfair and c) potentially dangerous.

Most of the women who called you out have no idea about what happens at a rugby match. They are that kind of older people who still think geishas are prostitutes, for example, because they lack proper education. They have no direct experience of the business world, let alone the spirits business world. No real facts and no logical arguments are ever presented to seriously discuss your efforts, but many smearing accusations are being written down, with full confidence. All they know is that they don't like you, because you somehow failed to comply with their own, twisted version of reality. In their books, your boss is either a closeted gay man or a lewd womanizer, with a dirty penchant for whores. This would normally make you grin, but today you're just not in that mood.

Today's your turn.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Girl, it's not just an emotional rollercoaster it's a full on emotional CARNIVAL 🤣

I love this observation. That's exactly what I felt inherently when I was writing that line. It felt more powerful to me than "I told you so" or the like. It has the feeling of that, but with more of an edge, even though you know he cares about her.

The line is devastating. It ''bites." It's more than just telling someone that they messed up, it's also kinda catty lol.

LMAO I remember someone saw the preview of Part 2 and commented, "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." And I was like, YEP, that's exactly it. Mans playing with his life. 😅😅😅

He really bet it all. And I'm in love with the person who said "the quiet, but devastating anger he'd be reckoned with if he said that to me." 😂

That's precisely how I intended it! Now looking back, I feel like I should have had her leave him by himself in his room to sleep in another room. But at the time I was writing, I was thinking that for her in particular, despite this being the biggest fight they've had so far in their relationship, he's still the one that makes her feel safe after a bad hunt. 💙

I think it would have been a bigger gut punch to Dean if she didn't stay in the room with him, but I still think that the her turning her back on him and not letting him touch her kinda hit the nail on the head pretty well too.

Aww thank you! 😭😭 Weirdly enough, that was one of my favorite parts to write? Maybe I just like the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff moments. The "better off alone" thing I thought was implied throughout the later seasons of the show after Dean lets go of Lisa and Ben, so I wanted to explore that deeper here, even though it hurt my heart to write it. 💙

It's not weird, I think that it's really fitting! And I also really like writing the heartfelt hurt/comfort breaking into fluff too lol. But you're absolutely right, Dean really does adopt that mentality after Lisa and Ben and it is really heartbreaking to see him like that.

Everyone's crying!! 😭 YES ABSOLUTELY SHE DOES -- and she's a verified crier. I see a lot of fics where the reader is tough as nails, "doesn't cry very often," but I wanted to create a reader character who is a badass, but still has a soft heart. (Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL. 🤣🤣)

As much as I do love the readers who are "tough as nails" and "doesn't cry very often" I love the readers who are strong but are allowed to break. It makes them seem more real. Because as much as I believe that there are people who are completely just insane badasses, they've gotta have some kind of emotion or compassion or else they don't seem human. Also "Latinas also can be very emotional, but not to say we're adhering to stereotypes around here LOL" I'm DEAD 😂

Sorry for jerking the angsty chain again there! 🤣 Poor guy, he went through an ordeal just as much as she did.

Please never apologize for the angst. I LOVE IT! And I really did also love how emotional this fic made me. It was wonderful lol.

Fun fact on her confession! When she says I love you twice, she's actually saying it in two different ways:

I love you, you’d said. I love you ("te amo," you're my love) and I love you ("te quiero," you're my family), more than you can believe and understand.

GIRL WHAT?! OH MY WORD THAT IS JUST SO MUCH BETTER! Thank you for explaining that to me!

Thank you SO very much!! Honestly you don't know how happy it makes me that you're enjoying this series so far -- and spoiling me with such lovely and thoughtful feedback. 🥰💕💕

No, THANK YOU for writing this wonderful fic/series! 😊

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @deanwinchesterswitch @freewastelandstrawberry

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[itsa-me-lily]

God I love this au, it's feeding me so good today. The last one with the part about only one bedroom has me thinking about a sick reader, the gross kind of sick where you're sweaty and wheezy and snotty, and the fact that if it were anyone else Simon would be quarantining them. But because it's his spouse, he wakes up to you nasally wheezing and mouth breathing while sprawled across him, and all he can think about is when you're due for your next round of medicine and if he needs to buy more tissues.

Sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste. Also do the guinea pigs have names and what do they look like?

I'm dying. This is the first ever ask I've ever gotten (that I recall) and I'm going to pass away. Also "sometimes love comes coated in mucus, and is reciprocated with an artificial cherry taste" that is such a good line, I'm apologizing in advance if I steal it.

Also warning for content of being sick, this is based off my last bout of plague.

Also Also Here's the Masterlist

Bedsharing in general does not happen at first. (Now I want to percolate an idea about sharing the bed for the first time). You're way to use to having your own bed that sharing with someone means you're not sleeping easily and I think Simon would rather sleep with the guinea pigs in their cage than have another human being that close to him when he sleeps. (This was also not something he initially thought about when being told a spouse was to be picked)

So what's the solution? Obviously bunk beds! Kind of, sorta...okay not really but the look on Simon's face when you had suggested getting bunk beds had been entertaining. Who knew so much indignation could come through a medical mask. Really his eyebrows did so much talking.

With the dream of bunkbeds dashed, the next best solution was either two twin beds crammed into the bedroom with a bedside's worth of space between them, or a pull out couch. You managed to find a couch same day that didn't terribly clash with the artwork you have yet to hang up.

You two actually manage to come up with a schedule for who slept where. Obviously you'd get the bed when Simon was deployed, made no sense for you not to. And when he was home the bed was all his unless he was having a night that he knew he wasn't going to trust a deadbolt to keep monsters at bay. Then he made himself comfortable, TV playing low until he managed a few hours in the early morning before you try to leave a silently as you can for work.

(Funny thing, even if you aren't sharing a bed traditionally, you both most certainly have your own sides, along with bed stands that told two different stories)

The first time you get sick is when Simon is technically deployed. Well actually, the day he returns is the day you spike a 101.8 fever and work forces you to go home so you don't become a walking petri dish and expose the college kids that come into your office.

Once you're home you appease the little beasts demanding some sort of vegetal boon, change into the rattiest clothes you have, and then huddle under a staggering amount of blankets that have made their home on your bed. (Simon may have side eyed them when you first set them out, but you've seen the mountain he creates under them, you knew the magic of weighted blankets)

Sleep isn't peaceful, you hadn't broken out the Nyquil quite yet, but you do manage to drift off for a few hours. And then the coughing starts. It's the kind that's a bitch to deal with, dry and pushing your ribs to the limit with how often they can expand and contract. By the time Simon comes home you've steamed yourself twice, taken only a smidge over the recommended amount of cough suppressant, and slathered yourself with Vic's Vaporub. All in all, you were properly miserable.

You're in the kitchen, staring into the abyss of your over-steeping tea as if it will magically make you feel better if you only sell your soul to it, really a tempting offer, when the wheeks of the pigs announce that another person they know has arrived.

If Simon wasn't clued in that something was off at seeing you home before the end of your work day, the pungent smell of menthol would have been a dead give away. You're still communing with your tea when he knocks against the wall, pulling you out of the deal for your soul to meet him with bleary eyes and a flushed face.

You croak out a greeting that makes Simon wince in sympathy, though that's about all he really does. Simon doesn't really do pleasantries and doting probably wouldn't be the first word people use to describe him, so with your brain function reduced by an overflow of mucus and fever, the kitchen was rather silent.

Until you started coughing, face buried into the crook of your elbow to try to keep your contagion to a minimum and back bowing to nearly double you over. That drives Simon to action, coming to try to keep you up incase you collapse, grabbing your free arm.

When you feel him touch you, you try to pull away, shaking your head and finally finishing your bout, gasping a little as you try to daunting task of breathing and speaking to dissuade him from getting close lest he catches what you have. He clearly wasn't persuaded, hands clenching and unclenching like he simply wanted to pick you up and put you...somewhere.

How exactly Simon Riley would take care of you, he didn't know but he'd be damned sure to at least try. He'd been left to fend for himself while sick before and he didn't like the idea of you going through that. When it was clear that he wasn't going to just leave you to your suffering you relented enough to try to reach a compromise; if he'd be alright watching the pigs while you were sick that would be more useful than a nursemaid while you camped out on the couch.

That...that was something Simon could do. He'd watched how you took care of the boys, surely this was something he could do. And then his brain caught up to the rest of what you had said. There was no way he was going to let you sleep on some pull out couch, as nice as it was. Being Sick meant sleeping in a proper bed, on a mattress that didn't spend it's days folded up.

You tried to insist it was alright but he wouldn't listen to a word of it. Instead he practically herded you back to the bedroom, ignoring your murmurs of your abandoned hot beverage. He didn't lift you to plop you onto the bed itself but it was a near thing. He had to bribe you with the promise of a proper cup of tea for you to even lay your head on your pillow, eyes already heavy with the need for sleep. By the time he had actually made a cup you were out for the count, nasally mucus filled snores letting him know you hadn't perished in the time it took him.

The next few days were filled with mucus, the attempted escape of your lungs via coughing fits, and more Vics than the human body should be exposed to. And the entire time you insisted that you could fend for yourself. Simon didn't push to play nurse, but your tissues never ran out, a dose of medication was always ready on your bedside, and a warm cup of tea stood waiting for you after each nap, like a solider committed to his guard.

Edit;

I'm going to make a separate post for the guinea pigs, because honestly I'm torn on if they're based on my guinea pigs I used to have, or guinea pigs I'd want to have in the future

[certifiedsexed]

hey there! i don’t mean this in bad faith at all, and i’m not trying to use a term that’s a fascist dogwhistle. i promise i’m just confused😭

so i’m not a guy, nor have i ever been perceived as one, but in one of your recent posts, you said that men can’t experience oppression solely based on the fact that they’re men. which was kind of confusing to me — i don’t think you’re wrong, i think it’s me but i don’t know how to get to how you see it like that.

because in my experience, men can experience oppression because they’re men, although i don’t know if i’m saying that right or conflating the meanings of certain terms. i’m probably wrong, and would just love some clarification?

for example, my brother and i were always held to different standards growing up — it was expected of me to always cry and be emotional, and i was a ‘stone cold bitch’ if that wasn’t the case, but if my brother wanted to show negative emotions like sadness he was treated like there was something wrong with him too. and i know it wasn’t my brother — i spend a lot of time working with my high school’s diversity team, and in a lot of the events we organise, guys talk about how they feel enormous pressure to be angry and never sad, and to have stereotypically masculine interests and never deviate from that norm.

i also know men who’ve struggled to get jobs such as teaching as those are viewed as ‘female’ jobs and it’s a common view that men who want those jobs are ‘only in it to be around kids’. i’ve heard many women around me perpetuate sentiments like that, so i know they’re not making it up, even if it isn’t equal to the systematic oppression women face in almost every aspect of their careers.

i’m not providing these examples to prove you wrong, since i do think you’re right. i’m hoping that a window into the way i’ve always thought might help you clarify this in a way that can help me to change my mind, since i just think i’m lacking some clarity or context here. i think i’m conflating abuse and stereotypes with oppression, but i’m really not sure. any advice would be really appreciated!

i’m so sorry if this comes off badly, i don’t mean it that way. i’m just trying to learn, i promise i’m not trying to promote the kind of hate and close mindedness you’ve been seeing in your inbox as of late.

Hi! As always, I do not mind answering genuine questions!

The things you're talking about growing up and seeing boys around you pressured to present only certain emotions, that's part of the patriarchy!

Certain emotions are supposed to be "feminine" and thus boys shouldn't show them, while girls are often always considered "emotional" in some fashion. That's not oppression based on those boys being men that you're talking about.

It's the backlash that the patriarchy, and by addition trans/misogyny has on men. It's boys being pressured not to show certain emotions because those emotions are "feminine" and they're supposed to associate feminimity with weakness and shit.

What you're talking about there is also trans/misogyny!

The idea that men who do things perceived as feminine are predators, the idea that specific jobs are "female" jobs [while even in those specific female jobs, men are generally paid better and find it easier to get into those jobs than women trying to get into traditionally "male" jobs"]

[Though obviously this varies based on race and whether they're trans, etc, etc.]

To be a little more clear, all of the things you're talking about don't primarily affect cis men/boys. They fuck up transfems, because it's trans/misogyny.

You're right! It's not systemic oppression.

You might wonder if it's social oppression, which is also a no. Social oppression would require a historical/systemic oppression behind it. But that doesn't exist in this case.

What it is is the common issue oppressors run into. While they benefit greatly from oppression, there is also backlash they face from their own systems of oppression.

Like white people who fall into suicide cults trying to work towards white supremacy, or TERFs who fall into groups where they slowly pick each other off as they discover they're not all exactly the same and wind up accusing each other of not being "real" women, systems of bigotry simply do not work out perfectly even for the oppressors.

They never do.

To create the patriarchy, you must establish trans/misogyny, you must establish intersexism and you must push people to conform to those ideals, even if they hurt your own.

It's similar to how white supremacy can harm white people, despite white people obviously not being oppressed racially. The backlash of oppression hits even the oppressors sometimes.

Suppression, as a term, would honestly work far better to describe what you're talking about.

So yes, it's stereotyping, yes it's abusive to tell your children not to show/feel their emotions but it's not oppression based on these guys in your life being men! It's part of how trans/misogyny, transphobia and intersexism are enforced.

I understand exactly where you're coming from! It doesn't sound bad and I genuinely don't mind answering questions! Especially since you've got some good ones!

I'm not sure if I rambled too much to explain this properly but I hope this helps! Let me know if you have any other questions and/or need me to clarify anything here. <33

[elitesheepi]

Something something Ember Island Something something Changing Emotions

Katara coming to a horrifying realization. A terrible, no good, realization that only could've happened on Ember Island.

Zuko is attractive. A shocking realization, she knows.

Of course he is. That's just an objective fact, she reasons to herself. Even back in Ba Sing Se, she always knew he wasn't a bad looking guy. Bit of a temper, and nostrils flared to much for her taste but... He was a little handsome.

Now that things are okay between them, Katara can't help but look at him. Really look at him, and all she sees is a kind guy, who is very attractive. And that's just ruins her whole day because it's not fair. She supposed to be preparing for the comet, not oogling one of her closest friends.

He's not making it any easier on her. Does he really have to firebend with his shirt off? She doesn't waterbend in just her sarashi! ...Okay she does, but that's different.

Still, she asks him as much. Sweat is still dripping down his neck and chin. Whatever else evaporated from his heated body. She can feel his blood pumping through his body, the exertion in the pink dusting on his cheeks. Or maybe that's a normal blush cause she did just ask why does he need to be shirtless. Showing off his muscular build, toned arms and--ugh! Does he have to look at her with that puppykit look in his eye? Now he's just being unfair!

"It helps," Zuko explains like it's nothing, "It's like a grounding technique I guess. Feeling the flow of energy through your body as you bend fire. Besides, you bend in your sarashi sometimes, what's the difference?"

'It's totally different!' Katara wants to claim as she hands him a towel. She's not...him. And she'll say that as much when her own face is burning with a blush. Katara decides to leave it be for now, and heal up the small burns he did get from Aang's fire on his hands. Because she's just that mature and yes it is completely necessary to hold both his hands as she heals him. His firm, rough hands from handling his dao... It's more than a little unfair that his hands are bigger than her's too.

It's also unfair how he tucks her hair behind her ear and says "Are you okay? You're kinda warm." In that low voice only meant for her to hear. Her heart stutters in chest. He's just looking at her with a little bit of worrh, why the stupid butterflies in her stomach? And why does she not want him to move his hand away from her? Well, she knows why, but she doesn't wanna say it. Or maybe she does, but he's going to have to make it up to her somehow.

"I-"

"Hey Katara, check it out! I'm finally getting the hang of my fire bending stances!" It's like a cold splash of water over a fire. Katara shakes her head, plastering on that gentle smile. Aang is excitedly waving for her attention across the court yard.

She catches Zuko's golden eyes before turning to the Avatar, "Good job Aang! You're really improving!" She thinks anyways. Zuko kinda snatches her attention each and every time during their sessions. "I'm going to get some fruit juice inside. You want one?"

"Yes please!" Aang wants to go with her, she can sorta tell in the way his eyes keep looking between her and Zuko. He doesn't get two steps before Toph is dragging him with her now. "You had your time with Zuko, now it's time for some real fun." Katara can be concerned about the giant crash later. Another crash of rock. Waaaaayyyyy later.

She spares a glance over her shoulder, and takes a little pride in how he jumps. "Well? Shall we?"

"We shall?" He responds, confused.

"Did you think I wasn't to get a fruit juice for you too? Besides you said I was too warm so..." She slides her arm in to his. And if she stands a lot closer to him than necessary, than fine. She beams up at him with a pleasantly, sweet smile, "Let's go get some."

Now it's his turn to blush. Good, let him be flustered and dumb over a pretty person. It's his turn anyways.