#nothing happens but something is happening

[egophiliac]

So.... what are your thoughts on Ace's UM, if you haven't been asked this already?

sneaky magic for the sneakiest boy

no but really, I think it fits him really well! I had thought his UM would probably involve something kinda sleight-of-handy or pickpockety! and I looooved that it made such a nice loop-around back to episode 1. ❤️ I was. kind of half-expecting him to just run out and punch Riddle in the nose again. but instead this time 'twas he who offed the queen's head! it was great! and he did it while stone-cold terrified out of his mind! because Ace is the only remotely normal or well-adjusted person at NRC and therefore the only one who is like "we're going to literally die, this is super effed up". but he did it anyway!!!! I AM SO PROUD

[markrosewater]

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[spidertroupeart]

i am cringe but i am free

[starmocha]

I've got this doubt that I can't shake off: if MC's pregnancy, for some reason, is a very tough and risky one (both might die or something), which one of the guys would have the saddest breakdown at some point (just ugly crying into MC's arms after months of keeping it together for her sake) and which would have the angriest (trashing entire offices, taking their anger out on their enemies or both)?

(I had intended to respond earlier, but man…that trailer…) Gosh, you guys know how to prod at that special part of my brain with these asks lately… 🥺 I may or may not have...started writing...little...snippets, really... ��

Zayne would go into “doctor-mode.” He is going to utilize his medical knowledge and resources to give you the best care possible for both you and the baby, and while it seems you have nothing to worry about, you will feel the emotional-withdrawal from him as everything will feel so methodical and clinical and he forgets completely his role as a husband until you break down crying.

You had tried to keep your emotions in check these last few months, rationalizing that Zayne was never an expressive person, but his feelings and actions were always sincere. He was pacing across the bedroom reviewing with you about your recent prenatal checkup and what it meant for both you and this baby. It had been like this for several months now, and with your weak heart and the risk it posed for both you and the baby, Zayne had been extra attentive about your prenatal care.

As you sat on your bed, heavy with his child and close to your due date, listening to him rattle off different medical terms and speaking to you less as a wife but more as if you were his patient, you could feel your emotions peaking. You couldn’t remember the last time he was affectionate with you or actually asked how you were personally feeling throughout this whole pregnancy. He was by your side more, but you had never felt as lonesome as now, needing him back as your husband and not a doctor. You could feel the tears brimming, but it was getting harder each day to suppress your feelings.

Everything Zayne was saying sounded like muffled gibberish to you. You could barely focus on the present, barely acknowledging even the faint movements of the baby you were carrying, feeling more lost in your loneliness. You finally let your emotions and hormones collide and broke down crying in front of him, startling him immediately. Within seconds, he was on his knees before you, grasping your arms as he asked worriedly, “What’s wrong? Are you hurting somewhere?”

It took you a minute to gather yourself before you felt calm enough to speak, finally revealing to him how you hated who he had become during this time. At first, Zayne looked shocked, not quite comprehending what you had just said to him, but the more he pondered your hurt words, the more he realized there was a lot of truth in what you had said.

He kissed your belly, surprising you. Then, he got up and sat down next to you on the bed, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed your forehead, his apologies immediate and sincere.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, holding you a little tighter, “I just…don’t want anything to happen to you. Either of you.”

You leaned into his embrace, and sighed softly, “I know…I’m not mad at you. I’m just…”

Zayne looked down, noticing how your words gradually stopped and you were withdrawing again. He lifted your chin, making you look at him as he coaxed you gently, “Just what?”

“I just miss you,” you said, voice breaking again and fresh tears brimmed your eyes. As he brushed your tears away, you cried harder, “And I’m scared…and I can’t stop thinking about all of the things that could go wrong…and then I realize stressing over this is also hurting the baby and…and…”

Zayne looked guilty as he realized that while he was too focused on your physical health, he had neglected your mental and emotional state, realizing how you had been suppressing your feelings for his sake.

He sat back against the headboard and pulled you back to rest against him. He apologized again for his neglect, and for the rest of that night, he listened and comforted you through your anxieties. There was that familiar warmth in his embrace that you missed, and the softness in his eyes returned as he listened to you earnestly. While your anxieties were still there, they seemed more manageable now that you realized the man by your side in this moment was not Doctor Zayne but your Zaynie, your beloved husband.

Rafayel is angry and emotional and will lash out and say things he doesn’t mean, such as he would rather lose the baby than you.

It had been like walking on eggshells these past few months. You had tried to keep your spirits up in spite of the situation, but eventually everything that had been quieted was going to surface, reaching an ugly peak.

You just had never expected him to say such words to you.

“You…don’t want…the baby?” You felt like you were choking as you uttered those words back to Rafayel.

He looked conflicted, his face twisted in pain and frustration. “I…I didn’t mean it,” he finally said, seeming to struggling with not just his words, but also his feelings.

You glared at him with tears in your eyes. “You said it! What could you have possibly meant to say if not that!”

“I don’t want to lose you!” he finally yelled back, frustrated that his words were being used against him by you of all people.

A strained silence filled the space, creating a rift between the two of you as you stared at one another in shock. In the distant, there was the cries of seagulls flying outside the studio, the sound of waves crashing on the shore a peculiar reminder that time was still moving forward even as you two stood frozen, locked in this seemingly unbreakable tension.

After several beats, Rafayel dropped to his knees, his head buried into his hands as he apologized, though it seemed more like he was apologizing for hurting you and not because of what he had said.

You walked closer to him, surprised when his arms wrapped around your waist, and his face pressed against your rounded stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He didn’t look up at you, but his words were heard clear: “I just can’t lose you again.”

You stared down at his head of hair, unsure of what you could say in this moment. He looked so broken and helpless, and while you understood his sentiments, it still did nothing to alleviate the hurt you felt at his earlier words. Shakily, you let your hand rest on the back of his head, as you said softly, “My fishie…I won’t leave you…”

You said that to comfort him, but even you had doubts about whether you could hold true to your words. It was so bright and sunny outside in Linkon today, so why did your future look so gray and uncertain? This was to be a joyous time in both of your lives, but even as you both felt the baby kicked and moved, that cloud of doubt remained.

Xavier is stunned and feels helpless.

It had been an awkward couple of weeks. Xavier was quieter than usual, but he still answered you whenever you spoke. You didn’t think he was upset at you, but you also couldn’t ignore the sudden distance between the two of you.

“Captain Jenna had put me on desk duty for the remainder of my pregnancy,” you told him over dinner one night.

He didn’t answer you, appearing distracted as he was grilling some beef slices on an electric griddle.

“Xavier?”

“Huh?” He looked up, surprised. “Oh, sorry, I had something on my mind. What did you say?”

“I…I said Captain Jenna is putting me on desk duty,” you repeated hesitantly.

“That’s good,” he answered and picked a slice of beef off the griddle to place in your bowl. “You should have some more meat for protein.”

“…thank you,” you said, noticing the way his eyes kept averting with yours. You placed your bowl on the table, upset now. “Xavier, did I do something wrong?”

He looked taken aback by the sudden question. He immediately shook his head. “Wrong? Why would you even think that?”

You frowned. “You’ve barely spoken with me lately,” you said, “It’s been nothing but ‘yeah,’ ‘okay,’ ‘alright’ from you lately.”

“I’m sorry,” he looked at you with remorse etched on his face. He sighed as he turned the griddle off before he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I…I just have something on my mind.”

“You keep saying that,” you retorted, mildly irked now, “What could be on your mind that is more important than being here with me?”

“You.”

Your irritation disappeared in that moment, his solemn gaze resting on you. Slowly, you found your voice, your words stuttering a little in confusion, “Wha…what do…you mean?”

“You and the baby,” he clarified. “Ever since the doctor said this was a high-risk pregnancy, I just…can’t stop thinking about…everything that could go wrong.”

“Xavier…”

“I don’t know how to make this easier for you,” he continued, suddenly unable to hide his anxiety any longer, “And even if we do everything right, what if things go wrong at the last minute? What if—no, just…no…”

You gasped when he suddenly came to you, his arms wrapped around you immediately in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of your head and apologized again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Xavier…it will be alright,” you reassured him.

He was silent.

“We’ll both be alright,” you continued.

“Right…” he answered, but you noticed he still didn’t want to let you go. You also didn’t want him to part, so you both remained in this moment a while longer.

Sylus has all of the money and connections in the world. He is going to ensure that both you and the baby will be alright throughout the pregnancy until birth. On the surface, he seems calm and confident, but to keener eyes, such as yours, you will pick up on his anxiety through little tics or behavioral changes.

The moment you had told Sylus you were pregnant with his baby, he lavished you with even more luxuries than before. You received the best care possible, especially when it came to light that this pregnancy was not going to be easy for you and there was concern about the health of the baby. Sylus made sure the most qualified doctors were monitoring you and he had ordered the personal chefs to prepare only nutritional dishes for you and the baby.

He was adamant that you received only the best of the best, and to strangers, Sylus appeared to be so level-headed and grounded, not a trace of worry could be seen on his face.

You, however, noticed how he seemed to drum his fingers on hard surfaces more often. He would also pull out his coin to flip at the most peculiar time, and his visits to the boxing ring also seemed to have increased. There were so many odd tics that you couldn’t ignore, but you suspected you knew the reason why.

One evening, you slipped into bed earlier while Sylus was still sleeping. It would almost be time for him to wake up from his slumber, so you waited. When you noticed the fluttering of his eyes, you leaned in closer, smiling as your face was the first thing he saw once he awoken.

“Good morning,” you greeted him with a mischievous smile, leaning down to peck his lips.

“Mm…morning,” he answered back in amusement, still a little groggy and bleary-eyed. He yawned. “What did I do to deserve seeing such a sweet sight first thing after waking up?”

“I wanted to talk.”

His mirth disappeared in that instance upon hearing your stern tone. He shifted in bed, sitting up with his back to the headboard. “Is something the matter?”

“You tell me.”

Sylus shook his head in confusion. “Sweetie, you are going to have to elaborate more,” he responded with a frown. “What are we talking about?”

“Are you…worried?”

“Worry?”

You rested a hand over your belly, his gaze instantly following your movement. “About the pregnancy,” you clarified.

“Of course I worry,” he answered back in that same even tone.

“You…seemed so assured, but lately, I’ve noticed these little…tics,” you explained, elaborating to him more in details as he listened patiently. When you finished, Sylus gently pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his. His arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your belly to rub gentle little circles.

“I will always worry about you,” he said, “but panicking over things will not achieve anything, so I just redirected my worries elsewhere. Is that a problem?”

You shook your head and looked up at him. “No, I was just…wondering if you wanted to talk about them with me.”

He laughed and bent down to peck your lips. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“What if I want to?”

He smiled in amusement and kissed you again. “Then who am I to argue with my pregnant wife?”

“What would you do?”

“Do what?”

“If…I don’t ma—”

“You will be fine,” he immediately cut you off, his demeanor shifting entirely. “You will both be fine.”

“But—”

He lay back down in bed, pulling you closer to him in a tighter embrace. “Lull me to sleep,” he said instead.

“But isn’t it time for you to wake—” You clammed up when he shot you a pointed look. You could sense his unease, feeling his fingers digging into your flesh a little more. He was upset, deeply troubled, and you hated how he carried that burden alone on his shoulders.

“Alright,” you answered, snuggling into his embrace. You sang a song, a lullaby you had learned recently that you hoped to sing to your baby in a few months. As you sang, Sylus quietly hummed along, and it wasn’t long before you both fell asleep together, your worries left behind as you dreamed of the upcoming months when a new bundle of joy would arrive at Onychinus’ base.

Caleb is nervous, but he pours himself into taking care of you, because that is all he has ever known. He’s never liked seeing you ill or hurt, so he is going to do everything possible to make sure you receive the best care ever. He will do a lot of research and ask as many questions as he could to gain insight on what can be done to minimize the risk so both you and the baby will make through the pregnancy as safely as possible. He does not even want to consider the possibility of losing you.

You didn’t have any autonomy over yourself anymore. Whatever you wanted to do, Caleb did it for you first. Whatever you were craving, he would negate it half the time, citing it was better for you to eat a healthier alternative.

Even though you wanted to be mad at him, you knew he was doing this out of worry after the reveal that there were some concerns about this pregnancy. The moment that you had heard the word “risky,” everything afterwards suddenly sounded muffled as you were frozen in shock, a sudden anxiety creeping in as you stared down at your belly. Meanwhile, Caleb was already proactive, asking what needed to be done, what you both needed to be aware of, and so on and so forth. As if he could sense your worries, his hands immediately rested on your shoulders as he stood behind you while he continued to converse with the doctor.

He was your pillar and your protector. He always was, and he always will be.

Even if sometimes you found him to be overbearing.

You had missed many of his more indulgent dishes ever since he had put you on a clean-diet, and each time, you made a point of letting him know just how upset you were as you sulked when he finished setting the table with steamed fish and green veggies with bamboo shoots.

“It’s only temporary,” he reassured you, smiling to himself as he watched you picked at the fish half-heartedly.

“Most women get to enjoy their cravings while pregnant,” you said sullenly, taking a small bite of the fish.

He nodded in agreement as he sat down opposite of you. “If this was a normal pregnancy, then of course you should be able to indulge on your cravings—”

You looked at him hopefully.

“But your cholesterol level is higher than normal, and we also need to be cautious about the risk of developing gestational diabetes—”

You sulked again. “You are killing my appetite again.”

Caleb laughed softly as he set his chopsticks down. He cocked his head to the side, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he leaned forward on the table. “What are you craving, pipsqueak?”

“What does it matter? You won’t let me have anything…” You bit into your bamboo shoot, not making eye contact with him.

“Pretend I will,” he answered in the same tone.

You shrugged. “…Pasta.”

“Pasta? Okay,” he answered thoughtfully, “What else?”

“Hmm…pizza…cheesecake…dumplings…”

Caleb covered his mouth to suppress his laughter as he watched you list each food longingly, practically lost in your own world and not even paying attention to him anymore. When it seemed you had finished listing, he questioned you again, “That’s all?”

You sighed and shook your head.

“What else is there? You’ve practically listed all of the food available on takeout menus,” he teased.

“…Braised chicken wings…”

Caleb looked surprised. “What?”

“Your braised chicken wings,” you clarified and looked up to meet his surprised gaze.

“Okay,” he said after a moment, “I’ll make some braised chicken wings tomorrow for dinner.”

You perked up. “R-really?” You eyed him suspiciously. “What about my clean diet?”

“In moderation would be fine,” he answered, smiling, “Besides, having the mother of my child miserable the whole time is also not good for the baby.”

You huffed at him, annoyed. “I’m miserable because of you.”

He blinked, not expecting you to suddenly be mad at him again. “I’m only—”

“I can’t enjoy the food I like, I’m tired all of the time, I can’t even see my feet anymore, my back hurts, my feet are swollen—how am I fat when I’m not even eating anything yummy?!”

“…are you having a mood swing?”

“Yes!” you cried out hysterically, nearly sobbing, “It’s your fault, too, I can’t control my hormones right now!”

Caleb laughed helplessly as he stood from his seat and crossed over to your side. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist, your face buried against his stomach as you continued to cry and list your grievances with him.

“Alright, alright, it is my fault I gotten you pregnant,” he agreed. He peered down at the top of your head, smiling when you sniffled against his shirt while he rubbed the back of your head soothingly.

“…dummy…”

“Yes, yes, I’m a dummy,” he continued in a very pacifying tone.

“…A big dummy…”

“Mmhmm…”

“The biggest…”

“Right, right…”

You looked up, suspicious again when he continued to be very agreeable. You yelped in surprise when he immediately grabbed your face and leaned down to steal your lips with his. It took you a few seconds to register that he was kissing you before you gave in, feeling a warmth in your chest at his sudden display of affections.

“What else?” he asked softly when he pulled back a few centimeters, still close enough that his breath brushed against your trembling lips while his eyes locked with yours. You could feel his thumb brushing away the tears that were still on your cheeks.

“…you…”

“Me?”

“Uh huh…”

“What do you want from me?”

“Just you…”

He laughed and kissed your forehead. “Alright, pipsqueak,” he said, “You have me. I am all yours. Forever.”

You guided his hand down to your pregnant belly, smiling when that same look of surprise crossed his face again when he felt the baby kicked. Your smile widened as you answered him, “You’re ours.”

He knelt down on one knee, his large hand still resting over your belly as he smiled back before his eyes drifted down to your stomach. “Yeah,” he said, sighing almost as if in disbelief by this current life he was living, “Both of yours. Forever.”

[nyukaart]

I'd like to think after taking care of the batkids Bruce just naturally became more attentive towards the JL members without realizing it and it drives them crazy when it first started happening

For instance, Clark trying to find a pen under the table that he dropped and Bruce subconsciously covers the edge of the table with his hand. So when Clark bumps his head he was not expecting feeling soft hand cushioning the blow and hearing Bruce go something along the lines of "be more careful" he's just like "???"

Another scenario is Diana and Bruce in his car (undercover mission or something idk) and when he breaks he instinctly had his hand Infront of Diana who's in the passenger seat( that thing mom's do) and just pretend nothing happens afterwards

Barry accidentally tripping while he's doing his usual thing and sees Bruce make a "I told you so" face but he can see he's slightly worried

I just think batman being a mother hen of sorts towards the JL would be silly

[patricia-taxxon]

I want to set the record straight regarding a certain OST for a short film that should be coming out later this year, because one of its directors is making false and hurtful claims about me and my business ethic. After he made a prominent appearance on a drama stream about me & wrote a section of my callout doc, I told him that I wasn't interested in dragging him publicly, but that has felt more impossible as time goes on and I realize the extent of his misrepresentation. I had a vision of this film being able to release quietly in spite of everything, but I don't think that can happen, and I fully expect him to try and hurt my chances at further work.

In 2023, between techdogs 4 and 5, I worked on music for a then good friend's student film. It is by far the most technically difficult job I've ever had, and I did it for free. Now, before you get mad, this is partially (mostly) my fault. I never negotiated a price beforehand, and when I found out partway through that I was working for free, I let it slide for fear of being disruptive. If I was asked to quote a price today, it would have been approximately 900 USD. The work was a hellish and grueling experience, technical in ways I'd never been prepared for, and I sorely regret not putting my foot down, because I was hollowed out by the end of it.

A big portion of his callout against me is concerned with, bafflingly, my decision not to contribute my own money to the film, which at that point would have been a negative paycheck. I didn't pay the thirty dollars that I would've had to pitch in for the film to be screened, and I considered that a fine payment for the nine hundred dollars of work they got from me. He goes on to write that I'm rich anyways, I pay hundreds of dollars on album art (business expenses that I know I'll make back when the music is released) and "furry porn," because apparently if I am occasionally willing to drop a pretty penny on a pleasure purchase then I should simply be compelled to pay them randomly for things I hold no stake in and that I signed no contract for. He also mentions that I paid them later for the DCP file at another screening, of course by that point I had gotten the vibe that they were wanting for me to drop money on their project, so I did, giving the post-hoc justification that "i guess in this case I also care about the film sounding good." He writes "well I guess that was something she deemed worthy" without realizing the implication would then be that he did not see my own work as worthy.

Let me make this clear, this is like if a voice actor worked on my video game for free as a favor with no expectations of royalties, and then I asked them to help me pay to get the game on steam. This is presented along reheated second, third, fourthhand accounts of sexual misconduct.

And before we move on, to the claim that one album artist had to wait for years before receiving payment, this is true. I did forget to pay one artist, and only found out after their assistant contacted me years later, where I then paid six times the asking price as a late fee. I was commissioning over ten album arts every year, and as of now, this is the only time I have made this mistake.

It is impossible for me to refute his claims about the personal time we spent together in Omaha, as it would just be my word against his. I will just say that he should know the omitted reasons that I have grown to feel I was disposed, discarded, and taken for granted by him, and how he has nothing to do with why I hold those memories at that film festival so highly. He also does the classic thing where he positions allowing me to pick the movie in the evening as this favor he did, making me unknowingly rack up debt for a bargain I never consented to.

During all this, he has expressed an existential fear of being harassed for going public about me, and for this reason I want to say that I still hope that this film can be released without a fuss, but his continued participation in a harassment campaign against me has done far more to tarnish his reputation than I ever could. If you really cared about your image, pressure Crim to re-record that drama stream without your embarrassing petty grievances in it & delete your testimony from the callout doc. Thanks.

[astonmartinii]

doing business with family | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem hadjar reader

brother and boyfriend in the same sport? nothing has ever gone wrong when doing business with family... right?

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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liked by alexalbon, pepemarti and 307,377 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & isackhadjar

yourusername: max will officially become my second favourite f1 driver this weekend

view all comments

user1: watched isack’s f2 radio highlights in preparation for this weekend … yeah they’re defo siblings

user2: i know they’re parents had a HANDFULL with them growing up

user3: lmao just ask george in abu dhabi or lando in austria, y/n knows how to make her point KNOWN

isackhadjar: omg i beat max in something!

yourusername: come on bro have some faith in yourself - you can defo beat max in singapore at least

maxverstappen1: rude?

yourusername: you know i hate singapore in solidarity babe?

isackhadjar: and that’s crazy because she loves the glitter helmets

yourusername: i really do

user4: get you a couple that measures their love by glitter helmets?

user5: y/n is so real for that though, i’d fuck seb’s glitter helmets

yourusername: right well i don’t love them quite THAT much

charles_leclerc: slides £5 across the table isack please take max out, he won’t hate you

isackhadjar: no?

landonorris: WHY NOT

isackhadjar: i want to keep my job and actually score some points

yourusername: you people done harassing my brother?

maxverstappen1: do we have a problem?

isackhadjar: they’re being mean, they’re trying to PEER PRESSURE ME

charles_leclerc: i don’t think i was peer pressuring you

charles_leclerc: it’s bribery, god get it right

maxverstappen1: i think you should watch it

yourusername: say something like that to him again frenchie and your ass is grass

user6: omg romance ❤️‍🔥

redbullracing

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 823,081 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, yukitsunoda0511 & liamlawson30

redbullracing: red bull vs rb on pop culture trivia… max and isack were unstoppable - we might have to split them up next time

view all comments

user7: now i wonder where max and isack got their real housewives knowledge from …

user8: this has y/n hadjar written all over it

user9: if i remember rightly y/n was asked by some interviewer in the paddock who she’d like to see as a paddock guest and she said LISA RINNA?

user10: i knew i stanned the right queen

isackhadjar: not our fault that liam and yuki aren’t caught up with all the fresh news

maxverstappen1: we’re bonded cats i don’t think they have the power to separate us

redbullracing: it’s a trivia game…

maxverstappen1: THAT’S MY BABY BROTHER

redbullracing: YOU GUYS AREN’T EVEN MARRIED YET?

yourusername: looks like admin just lost their invite to the wedding…

redbullracing: yOU AREN’T ENGAGED?

yourusername: i guess you’ll never know

user11: no way they just teased their engagement in an argument over media duties?

user12: you’re shocked? this is quintessential them

user13: and they’re adding in their little rabid mini-them? i fear f1 is actually not ready

liamlawson30: so when do we get to do cars trivia? or is it all set up for them to win?

yourusername: just say you’re uncultured…

maxverstappen1: get a new personality trait bro

liamlawson30: omg why are you guys on my neck so hard?

maxverstappen1: funny

liamlawson30: this is so not fair why didn’t you guys defend me like this last season?

yourusername: that’s my flesh and blood dude

isackhadjar: duh!

maxverstappen1: i am so in love with y/n i just do what she says, do let it be known that if isack was not related to y/n he would be just another stray cat to me

isackhadjar: sure i’ll take it!

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, isackhadjar and 839,023 others

maxverstappen1: we had the chance to extend our championship lead but with two optimists behind you anything can happen…

view all comments

user21: LMAO THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THIS AND THE LAST POST

user22: isack probably teared up in the stewards room and max crumbled

user23: i mean on his radio as soon as GP said it was isack max was immediately like ‘is he okay?’

isackhadjar: sorry max!

maxverstappen1: no worries buddy, you can pay me back with room service

isackhadjar: so our move marathon is still on?

maxverstappen1: don’t be dumb - obviously!

maxverstappen1: i need my second in command to help defend my snacks from y/n

yourusername: you guys aren’t supposed to have those snacks i’m doing you a favour !!!

isackhadjar: sureeeee

yourusername: i can call your trainers up if you want?

maxverstappen1: NO WE’RE OKAY

user24: esteban ocon is not okay seeing this tomfoolery

user25: yeah yeah yeah it’s all fun and games but that’s legit his baby brother of course he wasn’t going to cuss him out

user26: exactly! he’s been with y/n for like four years? of course he was concerned about isack’s safety than his race

landonorris: i’m not surprised, just disappointed

maxverstappen1: why?

landonorris: I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND AND YOU STILL AIRED ME OUT ONLINE?

maxverstappen1: first of all y/n is my best friend

maxverstappen1: second of all isack is my baby brother

maxverstappen1: third of all you’re annoying

yourusername: heavy on number three

landonorris: i GIVE UP WITH YOU PEOPLE

user27: i love watching max and y/n making people crash out in instagram comments

user28: couples that terrorise together, stay together

georgerussell63: interesting ….

yourusername: you wanna say something

georgerussell63: suddenly not anymore

maxverstappen1: LMAO

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 459,034 others

tagged: maxverstappen1, isackhadjar & pepemarti

yourusername: bond a little bit stronger than a lil crash in a formula one race

view all comments

user29: if they don’t get married and live happily ever after i might just sue them

user30: so real

user31: they’re my parents and i can’t go up to four christmasses

redbullracing: that was millions in damage

yourusername: you gonna invoice me for it?

redbullracing: no?

yourusername: then get the fuck out of my comments this is a wholesome post

user32: why is pepe here?

pepemarti: i am just as much part of the hadjar family as max

maxverstappen1: well that’s just factually incorrect

pepemarti: nuh uh

maxverstappen1: ??? i’m marrying in? what are you doing?

pepemarti: i’m mama hadjar and y/n’s favourite so divine intervention

maxverstappen1: @yourusername please dispell this nonsense

yourusername: look at his lil face …

pepemarti: :p

isackhadjar: i’ll be clear i am not marrying pepe

pepemarti: that’s not what you told me the other day :(

user33: can someone make a chart this is all a bit confusing now

user34: i don’t think anything is helping with this chaos

maxverstappen1: i love you forever and ever, even if your brother puts me in the wall <3

yourusername: awww i love you too bubs

maxverstappen1: but i am your favourite though?

yourusername: don’t tell them but yes!

isackhadjar: these are public comments?

pepemarti: i’m legally blind now

fin.

note: a quicky i wrote during the super bowl lol - hope you enjoy xx

[pomegranatelifethis]

Neglected mom-like reader?

They would care for everyone but everyone keeps ignoring them untill reader stop caring and they finally realize this and try to get reader back to normal untill Damien finally breaks down in their arms and reader cracks and comforts Damien by singing?

Ofc if you don't want to do this idea you don't have to!

AWARENESS

***English is not my native language***

Fading Light (Bruce Wayne x Reader | Batfam x Reader)

Wayne Manor was eerily quiet. The house, usually full of laughter, arguments, or the hum of life, now felt suffocatingly empty. You had once been the heart of it all—running around, taking care of the kids, making sure Bruce was okay when he came home after long nights in Gotham. But somewhere along the way, you started to fade.

Everyone was consumed by their own lives. Bruce was constantly disappearing into the night, and the kids, though they cared, were focused on their own battles. No one noticed when you began to pull away, when the smile that used to come so easily slowly started to vanish.

It was easier this way. You didn’t have to pretend anymore. But it also felt unbearably lonely.

You didn’t greet Dick with a smile in the mornings.

You didn’t make Tim his favorite tea when he was buried in his work.

You didn’t ask Jason if he was okay when he came home bruised or hurt.

You didn’t watch Damien train with the usual pride swelling in your chest.

And Bruce…

You stopped waiting for him.

At first, no one noticed. But over time, the absence of your warmth started to sink in. They didn’t realize what was missing until Damien, the most reluctant to show vulnerability, came to you.

That night, you were sitting by the window, staring out into the darkness, the faint moonlight casting soft shadows over your face.

"Mom..." Damien's voice cracked, breaking the silence. "Please... come back to us."

You didn’t respond.

Damien stepped closer, dropping to his knees in front of you, his voice trembling.

"Shout at us, scold us, do anything, just... don’t be like this."

And then it happened—Damien, always the strong one, broke down. His small body trembled, his fists loosening, as silent tears slid down his face.

Something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hands threading through his dark hair, pulling him into your arms. Damien clung to you like he had nothing left, his body shaking as he buried himself in your embrace.

And you did the only thing you could.

You began to hum softly, a lullaby.

The same one you used to sing to them when they were younger, a melody that had always soothed them, a sound they had missed.

Damien’s breath slowed, his shoulders relaxed, but he didn’t let go.

In the doorway, the rest of the family stood silently, watching. Dick had his fist pressed to the wall, Tim’s eyes were closed, and Jason had his head lowered.

And Bruce…

Bruce stepped forward, his usual mask of control slipping for the first time in a long while. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened with an overwhelming regret.

He knelt beside you, his large, warm hands covering yours.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, voice rough.

You met his eyes, and for a moment, there were no words needed.

That night, for the first time in a long time, you let yourself be held.

And for the first time, you truly felt seen.

[idon-twannabeperceived]

This was never about Karla specifically, it's not just about Jacques either. The entire movie is fucked up, the concept, the way everything is portrayed, the fact that Mexicans and latin americans keep being ignored when speaking out about problems like these, that europeans are still talking over us and RECEIVING PRIZES FOR IT.

It's not about one person, one director, one cast, one movie, one prize. It's about the way we are treated every day and for every single thing.

So what do we do? do we go ahead and cancel every european one by one?

Stop cancelling people just to avoid taking responsibility, instead change the way you treat us, change the way you think.

OK, it’s good that Netflix dropped Karla Sofía for being a racist, xenophobic, and transphobic person, but don’t forget about Jacques Audiard—a white French man with a white savior complex—saying he did us a favor because now the whole world is speaking up about the issues in our country. As if we hadn’t already made movies, documentaries, and movements about what’s happening in Mexico. And yet, Hollywood keeps rewarding him just because he is… a white man.

just for reference, I will add some films/documentaries by Mexicans I do recommend:

[itadorey]

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒— bakugo katsuki

pairing: pro hero bakugo katsuki x gn reader summary: when aizawa calls and asks for a personal favor, bakugo is ready to expect the worst. genre: strangers to lovers, fluff word count: ~7k warnings: mentions of stalking, nothing happens, you take care of it notes: sorry if he's ooc, take this more as a character study. just a little test to see how i feel when writing for bakugo. description of quirk left super vague, literally just a mention of it being helpful. not proofread sorry ummm rushed too

When Bakugo Katsuki gets a call from Aizawa, he doesn't know what to expect.

There's a brief moment of silence when the call connects, and Bakugo feels himself tense slightly when Aizawa does not speak immediately. He's the first to give in, gruffly greeting his former teacher and being met with nothing but a sigh in return.

"Bakugo," Aizawa starts, his tone dull and tired. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, but i need you to do me a personal favor."

Another moment of silence ensues as Bakugo processes his request. He knows he can say no, but there's something about the fact that Aizawa— the man who has been through everything with him and his former classmates, fought with them and for them, and stood up for him when he was kidnapped by the League of Villains—personally calling and asking him that makes him hesitate before answering.

"Fine," he finally says, already thinking about how he's gonna tell Shitty Hair— Kirishima! he hears Mina correcting him in his head— that he might be out of commission for a few days. "What do you need me to do."

"Just show up when I tell you to," Aizawa says in response. "Maintain a high level of secrecy. Don't tell anyone where you're going. I'll send you the address. See you soon."

Aizawa hangs up before Bakugo can respond, and he mutters a series of curse words under his breath before tossing his phone into his duffel bag and leaving for his agency.

Three days later, Aizawa sends him an encrypted text.

Aizawa's text leads Bakugo to a fancy looking apartment complex close to Izuku's agency. When he knocks on the door of the apartment number provided, he's met with none other than Izuku himself.

"What are you doing here, you fucking nerd?" Bakugo asks, his words harsh and biting as he pushes past him and into the apartment.

"I invited him," Aizawa replies tiredly, trying to stop the fighting before it can begin. "This apartment and the other safe house are in the area that falls under his patrol route, so I thought it'd be a good idea to keep him in the loop."

"You're already pulling one of Japan's finest heroes off the streets for this stupid case, is it really necessary to get another involved?"

Bakugo turns when he hears someone new speak, his eyes narrowing when they land on you and an angry looking woman tapping away on her phone.

He knows who you are, used to seeing your pretty face plastered on advertisements and magazines throughout the country. You're a well known singer who dabbles in acting, someone he's tired of hearing about from the group of idiots he calls his friends. An irritated huff escapes his lips and he finds himself thinking about all the times he protected celebrities when he was still a new hero on the scene, and how they turned out to be nothing more than spoiled brats.

"You and Anya both know this case isn't stupid," Aizawa says patiently, shooting you an unreadable look. Bakugo waits to see how you react, studying you as you exchange a look with the other woman— Anya— and pull the blanket on your lap closer to you. Aizawa ignores the two of you, instead choosing to take the time to remind you, and reveal to the other heroes, what exactly he has called them there for. "There is a stalker out there following your each and every move. Do you understand that? And they've already proven that they will stop at nothing to get to you."

"I know," you say softly, your eyes never leaving Aizawa's. "But I can take care of myself. C'mon, you trained me yourself."

There's a moment of silence, and Bakugo thinks that Aizawa might give in. He's wrong.

"No. Hizashi and I have already decided that Bakugo will be keeping an eye on you for the forseeable future and he has agreed to do it. And Midoriya has agreed to keep an eye out during his patrols as well."

Bakugo waits for it. He braces himself and waits for the pettiness and childishness that he's seen displayed by other big names when they don't get what they want. He waits for the yelling, the waterworks, maybe even the sight of you throwing something at Aizawa. But it never comes.

Instead, you nod and stand before turning to face him, letting him catch a glimpse of the frown on your lips and defeat in your eyes before you bow deeply.

"I apologize for the inconvenience."

"O-oh! No, please don't bow," Izuku immediately says, waving his hands in an attempt to grab your attention. "That's not nec—"

"Don't gimme that shit," Bakugo interrupts, crossing his arms. His comment earns him a strangled noise from Izuku, but his gaze doesn't leave you. "Stand the fuck up and tell me whatever else I need to know."

He thinks he sees you biting back an amused smile at his words, but you quickly school your features before you let yourself fall back onto the couch. Aizawa lets himself settle into the seat next to you, a smile ghosting his lips when you reach for a mug of coffee on the table and hand it to him.

"It started a year ago," Aizawa begins. Anya walks around the couch, picking up a thick folder from the table and handing it to Bakugo. He starts looking through it, eyes scanning every individual item before passing it to Izuku. There's letters of varying lengths and pictures of you from all angles, accompanied by the occasional police evidence photo of what he assumes to be gifts you've received.

"I would receive sporadic letters, at first," you add, your voice tired and quiet. "We thought it was regular fanmail, y'know? But then things started getting weird. They would mention specific things that I'd do on my days off, or ask what I was making with the groceries I had delivered to my door on a certain day. They never signed them but the police confirmed that the handwriting matched, so we know it's one person."

"We assume it's one person," Anya corrects, earning a tired sigh from Aizawa. "We don't really know anything about them."

Her words cause you to furrow your brow, and you sigh softly before looking back up at the Pros. Bakugo's eyebrow raises when he comes across a hospital record for a Yamamoto Anya, and he angles it slightly to show Izuku.

"You were in the hospital?" Izuku asks softly, green eyes scanning the report before turning to face the two of you. Anya nods firmly but remains silent, crossing her arms before perching on the arm rest of the couch next to you.

"Anya's my manager, and my best friend," you explain, clasping your hands together. "As I said earlier, at first the incidents were sporadic. Then we went to the police to ask them to investigate. We don't know how, but the stalker found out and things started getting weirder. There were anonymous gifts being received to the apartment I have under a different name and I was receiving texts from an untraceable number. We still don't know who the target was, but the night of the Tokyo Music Awards, there was an attack."

"Wasn't that last week?" Izuku asks, looking through the file to find the corresponding police report. "It was all over the news. They said that some small time villain had attacked but that there had been enough Pros working security for the event and that it had been taken care of without issue."

"That's what we told them to say," Aizawa reveals. "In reality, it was targeted. We don't know if they intended to kidnap or to injure but things got out of hand and Anya was caught in the crossfire."

"The goal was probably to injure so I'd be easier to kidnap," you say, snorting in amusement when Aizawa sighs at your words.

"Who apprehended the villain?" Bakugo asks, unable to find the name on the police report.

"No one did, but I went after them," you admit. "I almost had them but they slipped into the crowd and got away. I returned to check on Anya and then Aizawa arrived and whisked me away. I've been here since."

"You were stupid enough to go after your stalker?" Bakugo growls, eyes shooting up to glare at you. You open your mouth to respond, only to get cut off by him "You trying to get fucking killed or something?"

A huff escapes his lips when he feels Izuku elbow him harshly, and the two of them turn to face you when you breathe out a laugh.

"Or something," you mutter, earning a swat to the back of the head from Anya. You grab her hand and toss it into her lap, only to turn and be met with a disappointed look from Aizawa. You wilt under his gaze, sighing in defeat and motioning for him to continue.

"The plan is to send you two to a safehouse, still within the city, while Midoriya and I investigate," Aizawa explains, pulling out a scrap of paper and handing it to Bakugo. "That's the address. Unfortunately, you can't just disappear off the face of the earth until we catch the stalker. There's still public appearances and interviews that need to be done, but you need to be hidden during these outings, Bakugo. We fear that if the stalker catches wind of the fact that we involved Pros, that might drive them to do something even more drastic."

Bakugo grunts in acknowledgement, unfurling the scrap of paper and studying the address written on it before glancing at Aizawa. "Can I show this to the nerd?"

He nods in response, and Izuku takes a moment to also memorize the address before nodding. The paper is gone within a second, a tiny, controlled explosion reducing it to ashes. Your eyebrows raise with interest at the display, and Bakugo meets your gaze with a scowl. It deepens when you don't immediately cower from his stare.

"The two of you should get going," Aizawa notes, glancing at his watch before standing and tossing a set of keys to Bakugo. You stand as well, taking a moment to stretch before plucking your cell phone from the couch cushion. You turn to Anya, giving her a smug look that makes her groan.

"You should just go ahead and cancel the rest of my appointments for the week. It would be unwise for me to go out in public before coming up with a surefire way to stay safe when out and about," your words are said a little too happily, and you nearly glow with joy when Aizawa contemplates your words before ultimately nodding in agreement. Anya gives you a scathing look, her hand tightening around her phone as you grin. "Let me know who agrees to reschedule! I hope no one's too upset."

The snicker that leaves your lips draws an unwilling smile from almost everyone in the room, and you swoop in to steal a hug from Aizawa before coming to a stop in front of the Pros. There's a bright smile on your lips that makes Izuku blush, and Bakugo scoffs audibly when you give him another bow.

"It's an honor to meet you, Deku. Thank you for doing this."

"Please! Call me Midoriya," he sputters out, cheeks still tinged pink as you turn and face Bakugo. There's a twinkle in your eye when you meet his gaze, and he feels a spark of irritation when he realizes that you don't seem to be intimidated by him.

"Well Mr. Dynamight, shall we get going?"

Bakugo's annoyance only grows when you manage to keep up with his quick strides.

No words are exchanged as you traverse the street, and Bakugo makes sure to keep an eye out as he opens the door and ushers you into the passenger seat, his hand pushing your head down roughly to keep you from smacking it on the roof of the vehicle. You slide into the car smoothly, buckling your seat belt and glancing around as you wait for Bakugo to get in. Silence engulfs the two of you once he does, and Bakugo finds himself reaching for his phone to play some music and fill the stillness. He feels a blush crawling up his neck when one of your songs plays, the new one that Kaminari insisted on listening to the other night when he drove him home after drinks.

A smirk tugs at your lips but you don't say anything about it, thankfully, and he finds a song he likes and plays it before taking off down the road. You're quietly humming along to the song he's chosen as you look out the window, and it isn't until you're halfway to your newly assigned safe house that you speak.

"I'm not, you know?"

That's the only thing you say and Bakugo makes a confused noise before he can stop himself, his hands tightening around the steering wheel in annoyance when you let out an amused laugh.

"I'm not trying to get killed," you clarify, earning a derisive snort from Bakugo in return. "I have a hero license, I was just doing what I've always been taught to do. Apprehend the villain."

Your admission catches Bakugo off guard, and he can't help but throw you a surprised look when he finally comes to a red light.

"You're a hero?" he asks, his curiosity winning him over.

"Mhm," you reply absentmindedly, still looking out the window. "Technically. I attended U.A., believe it or not, but I wasn't in the hero course. Aizawa and some other teachers trained me and he managed to pull some strings in order to have me take the licensing exam in my third year. He said it was better to have it just in case. Between us, I think he got even more overprotective after Nemuri, Midnight, passed."

Bakugo remembers attending the funeral after All for One had been defeated. It had been a deceptively happy day, sun bright and shining as the students, staff, and other heroes gathered to pay their respects to the fallen. He remembers a student standing next to Aizawa, their hand in his as he held onto what was left in the battle: her mask.

"She was my legal guardian, but she made sure to leave me under the care of someone she trusted just in case something ever happened."

And it did, goes unsaid.

Bakugo's left with more questions than before, but he refuses to give into his curiosity and actually ask. It isn't long until the two of you arrive at yet another upscale building, and hum quietly to grab his attention once more.

"Can I have your hoodie?"

"What the fuck? No!" is his immediate reply. There's an unpleasant look on his face, lips twisted up in what seems to be a cross between disgust and offense. "Why the fuck would you even ask?"

You give him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow before holding your hand out. "Listen, call me paranoid if you want, but I think it'd be a good idea for me to hide my face as we enter the top secret safehouse."

Bakugo grumbles and curses as he slips off his sweater, pissed off at the fact that you were right. His anger only intensifies when he realizes that he didn't think about that first. You waste no time in slipping the sweater over your head, pulling the hood as far forward as it can go and slipping on a pair of sunglasses. It's only then that you slip out of the car, waiting for Bakugo to get out before heading towards the entrance.

The two of you head into the elevator, and when you reach out to press the correct button, you manage to catch a whiff of a sweet, smoky smell. You turn your head to the side as the doors close, lifting the collar to your nose to see if it came from the sweater or somewhere else.

"Are you sniffin' my fucking sweater?" Bakugo asks roughly, pulling your arm back down to your side. You let out an offended noise before wrenching out of his grasp, leaning against the wall and shooting him a withering look.

"I smelled something sweet and I was curious!" you defend yourself, tilting your head back slightly to look down at him. Bakugo feels his blood boil. "I can't believe someone like you smells so good."

"What's that supposed to mean!" he nearly yells, taking a step towards you. You don't deign to give him a response, instead slinking out from beside him when the elevator finally comes to a stop. There's no hesitation in your steps as you walk past various doors, finally coming to a stop at the end of the hallway and wiggling a key into the lock.

Bakugo trails in after you, locking the door and growling when he's met with a sweater to the face. There's an innocent smile on your face as you slip off your sunglasses, placing them down onto the coffee table before traipsing down the hallway. Bakugo starts his usual sweep around the space, making sure to send a text to Aizawa to let him know the two of you have arrived safely.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," your voice calls out, earning a grunt in response. "Mine is to your left and the bathoom is across from my room. They already came and dropped our stuff off!"

Bakugo's eyes narrow when you walk back into the living room, a mass of fluff held in your arms. "What the hell is that?"

"This is Pickles!" you proclaim proudly, holding your arms out. There's a fluffy cat in your hands, and she lazily eyes Bakugo as she hangs in the air. Your smile falls when Pickles twists, jumping out from your hold and beelining towards Bakugo. "Pickles, no! I'm sorry, she's wary around strangers so I'd recommend backing away if you don't want your pants scratched."

Your words fade out towards the end of your statement, your jaw falling slack as you observe the way Pickles approaches Bakugo and proceeds to rub against him. She snakes in between his legs, meowing softly and pawing at his shoe as she waits for him to pay attention to her.

"You little attention whore," you whisper, your face twisting up in disbelief when Bakugo kneels down to pet her. He shoots you a smug smirk when she starts purring, and you feel your eye twitch when she lays down, exposing her belly. "She took forever to warm up to me. How did you do that?"

"I'm just the best," Bakugo replies cockily. "Even she knows that."

"Whatever, I'm going to take a nap. I can cook dinner later if you'd like," you say softly, reaching up to rub at your eyes.

"I can cook my own damn food," Bakugo snaps, his attention shifting to you. You breathe out a laugh.

"In that case, I think I'll turn in for the night. I'll leave my door slightly open for Pickles."

"Don't be a dumbass, you have to eat."

"I'll just get up early and cook breakfast," you shout, already disappearing from sight as you make your way to your room. "Good night Mr. Dynamight!"

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles under his breath as you duck into your room. A laugh is all he gets in response, and your room goes dark as you finally settle into bed. His attention is caught by small meow, and he sighs before picking Pickles up and petting her. She curls up against his chest, swatting at his hand and making a pleased noise when she manages to grasp it between two of her paws. He looks down at the cat, raising a brow when she decides to start gnawing on his finger.

"Just you and me hairball."

The two of you fall into an admittedly easy routine throughout the rest of the week.

Bakugo's surprised by how easy this assignment has been. He's used to stubborn celebrities demanding to be let out, complaining and whining and overall just annoying him until he snaps and curses them out. However, you're a quiet housemate, waking up early to cook breakfast for the two of you before retreating to your room for the rest of the day or lounging on the couch with Pickles. Bakugo takes it upon himself to cook dinner for the two of you, and whoever is in charge of lunch is always decided with a coin toss. He loses more often than you do.

Pickles becomes a frequent presence as well, and sometimes he wakes up to see the cat curled up peacefully on the pillow next to him. How she gets into his room, he doesn't know. When he emerges from his room in the morning with her gathered in his arms, you apologize profusely, your stare lingering on the way his lips curl up into a tiny smile when you take her from him.

You inform Bakugo early on in the week that Anya has listened to you, canceling all of your prior engagements and sending you an updated schedule for the next week. He squints when you hold your hand out, cell phone in hand as you prompt him to take it.

"Mr. Dynamight, give me your number."

"It's Bakugo," he grumbles, pushing your hand away from him. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"So I can send you the schedule," you huff, extending your arm once again. He obliges reluctantly, purposefully taking his time in an attempt to annoy you. You don't react to his provocation, instead smiling sweetly at him when he hands your phone back and sending him the file.

When you begin to send him memes, he refuses to acknowledge you for the day.

The two of you spend days successfully planning how to keep you safe during your public appearances, your combined experience making the task easier than you thought it'd be. Your first week back out in public goes well, and even though you know better than to let your guard down, the knowledge that Pro Hero Dynamight is watching you from a distance helps to soothe your nerves. Your routine remains the same for the following week, during which there is an incident, but it turns out to be an overexcited fan. You then beg and beg Anya to book less appearances until she gets fed up with your fake crying.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you hate your job," Bakugo mutters one evening while making dinner. "You keep brushing off all your stupid engagements and you won't have a fucking career to go back to."

"Good thing you know better," you say playfully, your eyes glinting with mischief as you approach him. Your arm brushes against his back as you peek around him, your hand darting out to grab a slice of the strawberries he's cutting up to eat with lunch. He's too slow to stop you, not that he really tries to.

He finds that his original irritation towards the assignment has faded, and even though he misses being out on patrol and taking down bad guys, he thinks that this mission isn't the worst. Or maybe it's because of you. It takes Bakugo weeks to admit to himself that you're not as bad as he thought you'd be. In fact, you're not anything like what he expected you to be, all sly smiles and snarky words and casual touches that he's too embarrassed to reciprocate. But he doesn't like you, no, he doesn't.

You like to think he's getting used to your presence, but his occasional aloofness makes you think otherwise. There's a part of you, the side that's trying to ignore the reason that resulted in being assigned to a safe house in the first place, that enjoys your time spent with Bakugo. You like the way he's so easy to rile up, the way he carefully plates food for both of you, and the way he smiles when Pickles demands his attention. You think that maybe, just maybe, you might like him, even if everything else about his attitude makes you think he doesn't even tolerate you.

But you're too preoccupied with your ongoing case to really sit with your thoughts and try to sort out your feelings.

Updates from Aizawa and Midoriya are few and far between, and although you and Bakugo have fallen into a comfortable routine, you can tell that he's getting fed up with the situation. His restlessness is obvious, especially with the news talking nonstop about his sudden disappearance and speculating on the reasons why Dynamight might've stopped doing his duty as a hero.

"How long do you think this will continue?" you ask one night, sneaking a peek at him and waiting for his snarky reply.

"I dunno," he responds, sounding defeated. He sighs heavily and turns the television off.

He watches as you purse your lips and reach for his hand, pausing when he instinctively pulls away. There's a brief pause before you take a deep breath and let your hand fall on the sofa. He glances at you, eyes scanning your face as you keep staring at the blank screen, and lets his head fall back and eyes fall shut as he mentally berates himself for his actions. You head off to bed soon after, and Bakugo remains there for the rest of the night.

The next morning is quieter than usual, and the two of you are eating breakfast when there's a knock on the door. You waste no time in prancing to the entrance, reaching for the doorknob before a large hand grabs your wrist.

"Don't open the fucking door," he hisses, pulling your hand down. You raise an eyebrow, tilting your head in an innocent manner.

"Why not? It's only Midoriya."

"What?"

You reach over and open the door with your other hand, only to be met with a sunny smile from none other than Pro Hero Deku.

"Kacchan!" he exclaims, brightening up even more at the sight of his childhood friend. "I'm here to swap."

"What?" Bakugo bites out again. Midoriya's smile falters.

"Uh, swap. Places, I mean," he explains, smiling when he looks back at you. "I thought you said he asked?"

"Asked what?" Bakugo growls, his hand tighetning slightly around your arm.

"Yeah! He did," you respond just as cheerily. Bakugo goes ignored.

"Hey! Listen to me when I fucking talk to ya!"

"Come on in, we were just eating breakfast. Would you like any?" you ask. Midoriya shakes his head and you promptly wiggle your arm out of Bakugo's grasp and usher them into the living room.

"What is the shitty nerd doing here?" Bakugo yells, fed up with the situation.

"He's here to take your spot! Remember, Mr. Dynamight ?"

"I already told you, it's Bakugo," he snarls, eyes narrowing as they fall onto you. Your smile is unfaltering and equally as sunny as Izuku's was when he first arrived. He spares a glace at the other Pro Hero in the room, taking note of the way he nervously wrings his hands as he studies the two of you. He doesn't excuse himself before taking ahold of your arm once again, dragging you down the hallway and into his room before slamming the door.

You take a moment to glance around his room, your eyes narrowing when you spot Pickles curled up on his bed, before finally meeting his eyes. There's a fire in his eyes that you've only seen before when he's mid-battle, reserved for situations where his anger is at an all time high. You meet his gaze evenly, and he seems to calm down slightly when make a questioning noise.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he asks harshly, his voice low in order to not be overheard. The walls are thin, he knows this.

"I thought you'd like to return to your hero duties," you say coolly. "Y'know, patrolling and beating up baddies."

"Listen, when I agree to a job I don't plan on doing it half-assed," he retorts. He wonders if your sudden encouragement for him to leave has to do with his actions night before… and the rest of the week. He knows it does. "You're stuck with me, sweetheart, whether you like it or not. So get out there and tell Deku that you changed your mind and that I'll be seeing this task until the very end."

You don't move for a few seconds, and Bakugo's eyebrows furrow in confusion until he realizes the way you bashfully averted your gaze at the nickname. The corner of his lip tugs up into a smirk, but he doesn't get the chance to comment on it before you start speaking.

"Your reputation and ranking are tanking because of this and it's not very fair to you. Besides, nothing has happened in weeks. No letters, no gifts, no suspicious activity. I'm sure it'd be fine to switch spots with Midoriya for a couple of days. And I thought you were getting a little tired of staying in here all day. Maybe getting out and seeing your friends would do you some good."

Bakugo takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. "I already told you, I'm not leaving you until this assignment is done. Go out there, and tell Deku you changed your fucking mind."

"Yeah, about that," you say, your tone of voice causing Bakugo's eyes to fly open. There's impish smile on your face, and Bakugo feels a sense of foreboding as you speak your next words. "I might've told him that you requested the swap. So really, it's you that has to go out there and tell him you changed your mind."

You laugh and head back to the living room before Bakugo can yell at you, smiling softly at Midoriya before heading to the kitchen to clean up the abandoned plates.

Bakugo groans and begrudgingly heads to the living room, dragging Izuku by his collar and leading him to the front door.

He shuts the door in his face and provides no explanation.

Things are different after that.

Bakugo makes a bigger effort to interact with you, spending move evenings by your side instead of keeping his distance. Slowly but surely you begin to notice, and you can't help but wonder if this has anything to do with your discussion in his room the previous week.

You try not to show that you're flustered when the two of you begin to cook together instead of taking turns, and you have to admit that sharing the kitchen with Bakugo is intimate in a way you never knew cooking with somebody else could be. His movements are always fluid, never hesitant, and you find that you fall into a groove when you work alongside him.

The space is full of teasing and grumbling as well, and you find that fleeting touches between the two of you start to become more common. There's the occassional hip check when he tries to steal a piece of whatever you're chopping, and the occasional hand skimming your lower back when he tries to get past you in order to reach something. You tend to go rigid under his touch, and Bakugo finds that he starts doing it a little more often in order to hear the way your breath hitches when his fingertips skim over your shirt. He's thinks he likes you.

You’ve had the time to sit with your feelings, all the swirling uncertainty and aching that you feel weighing down on your heart when you see Bakugo present you with a new dish or scoop Pickles up when she won't stop pawing at his leg. Bakugo Katsuki is so perfectly imperfect, and you think that there's no one in the world who is privileged enough to get to see every single side of him that he has unintentionally and intentionally bared for you to see in your short time living together. You find that it is much easier to come to the conclusion that yes, you do like him. You think you might even love him.

You don't get the chance to wonder if he likes you as well before it all goes to hell.

It's a few days later, on a sunny Wednesday, that you finally come face to face with your stalker.

"Alright, you have one more meeting after this and then we can get you back home," Anya says, hurrying you you of the building you were in and towards the car. You mumble something under your breath, holding your sweater tightly to your body to protect yourself against the afternoon chill. Anya stops by your side when you stumble to a halt, and you quickly grab onto her when you hear something approaching quickly. "What's going on?"

You waste no time in pulling her back, something— someone, you vaguely think— crashing into the spot where you had just been standing.

"What the fuck?" Anya whispers, taking in the sight before you. There's a man standing in front of you, close to your age and surrounding by dark tendrils. His sharp, green eyes slide from Anya to you, and he breaks out into a smile before taking a step forward. Anya places herself in front of you, blocking you from his view and earning a harsh glare from the man. "Get the hell away from us."

You quickly scan your surroundings for any sign of Bakugo, and even though you know he's close by, you can't help but feel a little anxious when he doesn't immediately show up. A movement in your peripheral catches your attention, and you tighten your hold on Anya and dive out of the way before one of the dark tendrils shoots out and incapacitates her. The two of you crash into the side of the car, and you waste no time in opening the door and shoving her inside.

"Stay there!" you tell her, motioning for her to stop trying to open the door.

"No!" she argues, her shouts muffled by the window. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just trust me," you say reassuringly. Anya hesitates before nodding, her hands falling to her side.

"Stay safe. You better not get fucking hurt!"

You nod once, taking a glance to see your stalker getting closer before you take off in a sprint in the direction you know Bakugo is. You whip your phone out, sending quick 'SOS' to Aizawa before turning a corner. You don't bother sending your location, knowing he's probably been tracking you for years.

The sound of footsteps following you only spurs you on, and you try to think of a game plan to deal with the situation in a safe manner before you feel something wrap around your wrist. You come to a sudden stop when the tendril pulls you back, and you let out a cry when you stumble and fall to the ground, your knees knocking harshly against the concrete.

"I've been looking for you for so long," the man breathes, kneeling down to take your hand in his. You resist the urge to tear it away from him, conscious of the way the tendril seems to loosen when you relax. "I finally found you, we can finally be together."

You take a moment to study him, trying to gather your thoughts before responding. Your voice is light as you speak, and you lean forwards slightly in an attempt to make it seem like you're giving in. "We can. But you're hurting me, you know? You're quite strong, I can't believe I didn't realize it soon."

He takes the bait, retracting the tendril and almost glowing at the words that leave your lips. His lips part to respond and you waste no time in head butting him hard enough to send him sprawling. You hop to your feet, stumbling briefly when your bruised knees almost give out, but you manage to keep your balance and dodge the tendril your stalker attacks with.

"You bitch!" he screams, earning an eye roll from you as he tries to grab ahold of you once more. "I don't know why you're doing this when it's clear we're meant to be together!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you say under your breath, lunging forwards to land a hit. He defends poorly, and you think that his strange obsession with you has come in handy when he refuses to strike back in fear of hurting you.

When Bakugo lands on the sidewalk in front of you mere seconds later, he's met with the sight of your stalker face down on the ground, unconscious and with hands creatively tied behind his back with your sweater as you stare at him smugly. A tired laugh leaves Bakugo's lips and he wastes no time in removing the sweater, slapping on a pair of quirk canceling handcuff onto your stalker and moving to lean him up against the building behind you.

"Took you long enough," you chirp, earning a glare from Bakugo.

"I can't believe you were stupid enough to go after your stalker," he states, his words reminiscent of the ones he said when he first met you. "Actually, scratch that. Yeah, I fucking can."

"Well it's not like you were doing anything," you retort, crossing your arms. "Where were you?"

"I had it under control," he barks, motioning to the area around you. You take note of Midoriya standing on a rooftop, a couple of detectives scattered down the street as they wait for Bakugo's all clear.

"Oh!"

"What happened here?"

You turn when you see Aizawa approaching, eyes tired but alert as they scan you for injuries. You beam at him, pointing towards the unsconscious criminal before gesturing to yourself to show that you're fine, other than your bruised knees. "See! I told you I could handle myself."

"Yes, I suppose you did," is all he says before turning to Bakugo. He's caught off guard when Aizawa bows deeply. "I'm eternally thankful, Bakugo. You did a great job, even if it turned out we didn't need your help after all."

The last statement is said mockingly, and you pout when Aizawa shoots you a pointed look. You ignore it in favor of turning to Bakugo, bowing as well.

"I already told you, don't gimme that shit," he spits out, crossing his arms when you straighten up and give him a shit-eating grin.

"I just wanted to give you my thanks," you say, a teasing lilt to your voice as you take a step forward. Aizawa grunts before walking away, shaking his head as he goes. "Although I suppose that there are other—"

"You're safe!"

Anya's screams interrupt you, and you give Bakugo an apologetic look as she pulls you away, fussing over you and bending down to clean off your knees. You smile fondly as she shoves a water bottle into your hand, stealing one last glance at Bakugo before he's whisked away by the detectives to make a statement.

A week passes and Bakugo hasn't stopped thinking about you.

He wonders how often he'd get to see you now that he's not watching over you, grimacing when he realizes that he'd probably only see you at hero galas and community fundraisers that might overlap with both of your schedules. The two of you have exchanged a few messages since the mission ended, lot of memes being sent from your end that make Bakugo laugh, not that he'd ever admit it.

He's wondering if he should build up the courage to be more direct with you, to possibly follow up on how you could thank him and then ask you out on a date when he hears a knock on his door.

"Hey!" you greet him when he opens the door, bright smile on your face as you shove a bag into his hands. "I hope you don't mind but I got your address form Aizawa. I was thinking I could cook you dinner, you know, as a thank you."

His jaw is hanging as he takes you in, and you snicker when he doesn't respond.

"Hey, what's wrong? Pickles got your tongue?" you laugh at your own joke, and Bekugo snaps his jaw shut at the words, ushering you in and shutting the door behind you.

"That was a shitty joke."

"Eh, can't expect everyone to get my sense of humor."

He shakes his head fondly as he follows you into his kitchen, and you take the bag you previously pushed into his arms and place it on the counter. You look at him expectantly raising an eyebrow teasingly as he takes a step closer.

"So this dinner,” he starts, tone casual as he drinks you in. “Is it a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" you respond. Your voice is quiet and light, and he finds himself crowding you against the counter, arms on either side of you as he cages you in. You're vaguely reminded of the time the two of you argued in his room at the safe house, the only difference being the look in his eyes. Where there was anger that day, this time you see nothing but an unfamiliar tenderness, eyes warm as he mulls his answer over.

"Yeah," he says roughly, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you look at him in mild surprise. "I do want it to be."

“I didn’t think you’d admit it,” you retort. The smile he receives in return is almost blinding, but he feels that familiar sense of foreboding when you suddenly give him a coy look and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So... does this mean I'm... Mrs. Dynamight?" you ask innocently.

"Shut the fuck up," he groans before finally leaning down to silence your giggles with a kiss.

ty for reading <3

[inkedbybarnes]

blind date

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: convinced that bucky will never like you back, you agree to a blind date arranged for you to forget about him.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: fluff. two idiots pining over each other (i know, i know. i love the trope). blind dates (they honestly scare me). boundaries being crossed. not so gentleman of a blind date. protective & grumpy bucky (yes, that's a warning!). pet names such as doll. lowercase writing. not proofread.

notes: happy 500 followers to us! hehe. sorry it took long, i waited until i reached that milestone and we finally did! we're growing in our small delulu home, and i love it. <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“come on! tell me more about this mystery guy.”

natasha plopped down the couch beside you while she held a pint of ice cream in her hand and a spoonful on its way to her mouth. you were talking about the blind date that sam arranged for you, and she hasn't stopped asking questions since you mentioned it.

“there's really nothing to tell besides that he's a guy looking for a date and that he's friends with sam. i'm actually surprised that sam set this all up, but i trust him, you know? maybe it'll be nice,” you answered, ignoring the fact that sam suggested this to help you get over your not-so-little crush on a super soldier.

your phone beeped, showing a message sent to you by your teammate. “speaking of the devil, sam just sent me the details but i'm really not sure if i should go. it doesn't feel right.”

“and leave the poor guy waiting? not happening." natasha stuck her spoon into her pint and set it down on the coffee table. “you feel that way because you like someone already, but nothing's going to happen if we'll sit here waiting. you're either giving this date a chance or ask bucky out. it's time you finally go out there and see someone. aren't you sick of us yet?"

“i'm quite sick of you, that's for sure.” you joked, having natasha as your room neighbour and basically your best friend. if you weren't spending your time sleeping in your room, you'd be spending it with her. “i just don't think i should be going on dates when i know i'm technically not emotionally available for others yet.”

“oh, you can't be sick of me. i'm great company." natasha replied confidently. “then why did you agree? we all know, besides barnes, that you've liked him for so long. plus, he's never been with anyone for ages. the two of you makes sense.”

you gnawed on your lower lip, hesitant to tell nat the reason why you agreed to this stupid date, but she was your best friend and also one hell of a spy to even try and hide it. “he told me that he found someone similar to bucky and that i might want to meet him. we agreed to let it be a blind date to avoid the mess of telling them that they're meeting an avenger.”

“i knew it. you're going on a rebound date!” she jumped on her seat, as if she'd solved the winning numbers to the lottery. “there was no way you'd suddenly go on a blind date without a catch. you're too hung up on bucky!”

“keep it down!” you pulled her back into the couch, nervously looking around the room to see if anyone was close by. “i'm pretty sure rebounds only apply to people i've dated. bucky's hardly a candidate for that list.”

“you've liked him for way too long that it basically feels like you had a relationship, and i'm pretty sure he likes you too,” natasha said. “trust me, my guts? golden.”

you winced at the thought. there had been zero signs that bucky liked you back. as much as you trusted natasha and her instincts, this was something you couldn't just assume.

“i don't think so, nat. i've given him enough hints. it's either he's too dense about it or he's just not interested. maybe it's just how it's supposed to be, and i can't keep myself stuck with maybes forever.” you sighed, deciding to finally go to the blind date. “help me pick an outfit?”

“like you even have to ask?” she smiled, dragging you to your room while you were still left with uncertainty in your heart.

the restaurant was one of those hole-in-the-wall places in downtown new york. it had a lot people dining inside, their noise easily heard from the outside, yet the ambiance already felt warm and welcoming. you wondered if sam suggested the place or the guy you were about to meet.

you sighed, giving your chest one last tap since it wouldn't stop beating so fast. it was a wonder how your heartbeat remained stable during a risky mission, while a harmless date had you this nervous. although with that, you felt human.

“okay, let's see where this goes,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your watch that had a tracking device in it, as requested (or ordered) by your best friend.

natasha initially opted to come with you and seat somewhere far, but you told her that you didn't need it. so, she settled with a tracking device, as if you weren't an avenger who could defend yourself. you couldn't find it in you to complain, since this was natasha's own way of showing that she cared.

you entered the restaurant, eyes wandering around the room despite not knowing exactly what to look for. the only details you were allowed to know was that “joseph” knew where to take you, so you assumed that person was one of the staff that you had to look for.

once you found a waitress that didn't look too occupied, you approached her with a smile. “excuse me, may i know where joseph is?”

the lady looked up at you, recognition evident on her face. you were slightly worried that she knew your identity, but she gave you a warm smile and held your arm gently. “oh, he's right there by the counter. let me take you to him!”

she escorted you towards the man handling the counter that seemed to be where the orders were taken. he was shouting various orders behind him while arranging the food on the counter. by the looks of it, he could be the manager or the owner of the place.

“she's here!” the lady beside you exclaimed, catching the full attention of joseph.

“ah, there's our special guest for tonight!” joseph walked around the counter to hug you, as if you knew each other for a long time. “come, come! we have the best spot reserved for you. it's right outside where you can enjoy the view while also having some privacy, eh? your date already arrived, but no worries. he wasn't waiting for too long.”

you were rendered speechless as he took you to the patio, not expecting your date to arrive first, and most importantly not expecting to see him right away. you thought you were early enough, but it seems that your date was an earlier bird than you were.

once outside, all you could see was an empty patio with one man sitting not so far from where you were standing. you hated how you could only see his back and not his face, since he was facing the opposite direction. although, you immediately noticed how he was dressed similarly to bucky.

similar haircut, black boots, and a black jacket. while you weren't sure if they actually looked alike, sam wasn't kidding about them having some similarities.

“how come it's empty out here?” you asked with genuine curiosity. the restaurant was oozing with customers tonight, and they could surely use the extra space outdoors.

“well, uh...” joseph scratched his head, smiling awkwardly as he looked for an answer. “oh, well, stop worrying about that! you're here to go on a date and nothing more! let us worry about that ourselves, hm? come, let's not make your date wait for too long.”

you both walked towards the only table occupied, taking a deep breath before joseph announced, “your date has arrived!”

the man turned around, eyes widened at the sudden noise, but he eventually smiled once he looked at you.

“hey, nice to finally meet you.” he stood up, extending his hand. “i'm martin.”

one look at him and you knew that your heart stubbornly stayed with someone you shouldn't be thinking about.

“i still can't believe that i'm on a date with an avenger.”

you were barely done with your meal despite being here for more than an hour, and martin hasn't been able to stop gushing about your whole avenger sideline. while you understood his excitement, this wasn't the type of date that you hoped for.

“you think i could tell my friends?” he asked, suddenly nudging his chair closer to you that he was basically sitting beside you. “they probably won't believe me, so will it be okay if we took a picture?”

oh, so that's why he moved closer.

“sure.” you forced a smile. “but don't get too close, maybe? i'm.. i'm not that comfortable yet.”

as if you said nothing, he placed an arm over your shoulder, pulling you even closer to him. you've been through worse situations than this, but you were highly uncomfortable having your boundaries crossed.

bucky wouldn't do something like this. how did sam think that any of his behaviour was similar to him?

martin already had his phone out, capturing pictures and squeezing your arm, when you decided that this isn't what you wanted, but before you could open your mouth, you felt someone pulling his arm off of you, causing martin to scream.

“what is wrong with you!?” martin shouted, standing up and stepping away while he held his aching arm. when you turned around, you felt your heart stop to find the person you least expected to be here, but wanted the most to be with.

“bucky?”

he did not look at you, his eyes still fixated on martin, nostrils flaring as he took a step closer, standing in front of you as if he was shielding you, while martin took the same amount of steps backwards. “she clearly said no. what the fuck was so hard about understanding that?”

“look, man, i don't know what you're doing here, but i think this is between me and her,” he said, his eyes showing fear as he watched the ex-assassin approach him, hearing the gears of his metal arm whirring.

“give me your phone.” bucky ordered. “now.”

martin immediately fished for his phone, nearly dropping it, and gave it to bucky. “w-what are you going to do?”

“no, this is what you're gonna do,” bucky started, crashing martin's phone with ease and carelessly throwing it to the side. “this date never happened, your friends will hear nothing about tonight, and you will get out of here before i finish counting to three. one...”

in a snap, martin was already out of your sight. if you hadn't known martin before this, you would think he idolised pietro with the way he ran so fast.

“are you okay?”

forgetting about bucky for a split second, his voice jolted you out of your thoughts. you looked up, your heart racing, to find him right in front you.

“what are you doing here?”

“that doesn't really answer my question, doll. answer mine first, will ya? then i'll answer yours.”

“i'm okay, but i can take care of myself. you didn't have to scare the guy.” you sighed, trying your best to look displeased when in fact this has been the happiest you've been tonight. “so? why are you here?”

“well, it's really hard to explain...”

“you better try, barnes, because i am very confused right now,” you said. “one moment i'm on a date with someone, then suddenly my teammate, who i told nothing about said date, appears and crushes the phone of the guy i'm with?”

“natasha told me about it.”

you frowned, not surprised with natasha's gossipy nature, but confused about what she could've said that made him go all the way here.

“i was looking for you since you're always with us during dinner, and nat told me that you were on a date. i couldn't help but ask where and with whom, but she said that she had no idea, that it was a blind date. she was more than glad to tell me where you were, so i came here looking for you.”

“why?” you asked, confused and suddenly hopeful at the same time. although, you tried to keep your hopes down, not wanting to set yourself up for a heartbreak.

“what do you mean why? that's it. i was just worried, and now you're okay. can we go home?”

he turned his back on you and walked away, you were quick enough follow him, still unsatisfied with his answer.

once you've reached a dark alley where he had his motorcycle parked, you sighed and decided to ask one more time.

“what are you actually doing here, barnes?” you asked. “i want an actual answer or i'm walking home.”

“it doesn't matter,” bucky answered shortly, frustration. written on his face. “why did you agree to this anyway? doesn't feel like something you'd do.”

“you have no idea about what i feel and what i want to do,” you answered. “and you still haven't answered my question.”

“i don't know, okay? i don't know. i just..” he sighed. “i heard the word date and everything didn't make sense. all i knew was that i wanted to follow you here and stop whatever you were doing. i didn't like it.”

“what gives you the right to stop me from going on a date?” you asked, your head jerked back in disbelief. “and why would it even bother you? this is the first time someone went on a date in the team. so what makes mine so different?”

“what do you think?” he asked, his gaze challenging and curious, waiting for your response.

you stood in silence, his question causing a sudden drift in the conversation. you could feel the tension in the air.

“sam made me go to a blind date as well,” he spoke again. “i just remembered that he was asking me where i'd take someone on a date. days after that, he said he found a girl that i might like, and that i should go on a date with her, he suggested that it should be a blind date, knowing that i'm an avenger and all.”

“why didn't you go?”

“i couldn't. i wasn't interested. i knew it wouldn't work.”

“why?”

“because i already like someone.”

your heart sank, a lump forming in your throat as the reality set in that the person you've been pining for was already interested in someone else.

so much for going on a date to forget about him.

“what about you?” he asked. “why did you go?”

because of you, you idiot.

“trying to get over someone,” you simply answered.

“you were seeing someone?” he asked, completely clueless, but suddenly looking uneasy. “i never knew you were in a relationship. i guess, we're not that close, but i thought i'd at least know abou—”

“what? no!” you replied, voice rising as you spoke. "god, i agreed to this date because i wanted to get over you!"

the words slipped out of your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as you accidentally reveal the feelings you had kept hidden.

bucky blinked, silence hanging in the air. the confession felt heavy between you as you waited for his response.

“i didn't agree to going on a blind date because i have feelings you,” bucky finally spoke, taking a deep breath before continuing, “because i knew i wouldn't enjoy it knowing i'd be thinking of you anyway, because as convinced as i was that you had no interest in me, i'd rather keep my eyes on you than on anybody else.”

“wait, wait, what? you like me?” you repeated in a slightly disbelieving tone, searching his face for confirmation.

“why would i follow you all the way here if i didn't?”

“because you care? and it might be dangerous to go on a date with someone i've never met?” you guessed. “i mean, i think you'd also do it for everybody else, as grumpy as you look like on the outside, you can be a softie sometimes.”

“if i had no feelings for you, i wouldn't be here. you're an avenger for christ's sake. some random guy would be like a training dummy for you,” he answered. “and no, i wouldn't be doing this for anybody else. if the situation's that dangerous, maybe, but a date? you're all adults. you know what you're doing.”

you couldn't help but giggle at his answer, which earned you a glare from him. “what?”

“nothing.” you shook your head. “you sound like an old man lecturing the younger generation.”

“are we completely ignoring the fact that we like each other?”

“that's the only thing on my mind right now.” you admitted. “are you sure about what you just said? it could be the hunger talking.”

instead of answering, bucky took his phone out of his pocket, swiping and tapping on it a few times before taking your hand and placing it on your palm.

“what am i supposed to—”

“just read it.”

choosing not to argue with him, you grabbed the phone with a frown. his messages with natasha were on the screen, starting from their messages from nearly four months ago. you scrolled through their messages, and while they lasted for months, they were all short and straightforward.

three months ago

bucky:

did you arrive safely?

romanoff:

since when did you start asking?

bucky:

?

romanoff:

yes, we arrived safely.

bucky:

👍🏻

romanoff:

really???

two months ago

bucky:

is she okay?

romanoff:

ohhh, that's why you keep texting.

bucky:

answer

romanoff:

geez, barnes.

yeah, she's okay.

bucky:

ok

one month ago

bucky:

she's sick?

romanoff:

yeah, wanna visit her?

you're basically immune.

bucky:

i have a mission

romanoff:

oh yeah

oops

bucky:

are you busy?

romanoff:

nope

why?

bucky:

take my place

romanoff:

no thanks, barnes.

bucky:

i'll take your next task

and the next one as well

romanoff:

why can't you just take this one?

bucky:

nothing

romanoff:

a reason or i'm not doing it.

bucky:

she's sick

i want to stay

romanoff:

oh my god

you're such a sap

fine i'll talk to steve

bucky:

ty

romanoff:

you're using abbreviations now???

bucky:

👍🏻

one week ago

romanoff:

movie night later, don't ditch us again

bucky:

busy

romanoff:

she planned this one

she's worried you won't come

bucky:

i'll bring snacks

romanoff:

i love knowing your weakness

bring popcorn!

bucky:

she prefers pizza over popcorn

does she like popcorn?

romanoff:

nope, but some of us do.

bucky:

ok

romanoff:

so you're bringing popcorn?

bucky:

no

once you were done reading, you returned his phone back to his hand. “you do like me,” you said, the confession finally sinking in.

bucky nodded. “and you like me too.”

“where does that leave us?” you asked, hoping. “are we.. dating now?”

“no,” he answered quickly.

you felt that ache returning in your chest, but before you could say something, bucky already sensed your worries and he wasn't letting you slip away that easily.

“no because i want to do this right. i want to take you out on a date first, bring you flowers, play music and ask you for a dance, all that stuff that you deserve,” he explained, bringing his warm hand to your cheek. “but trust me that it won't take long before i call you mine. i don't think i have the patience for it at this point.”

“you promise?” you rose to your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around him. “i don't want to wait that long either.”

“you won't,” he replied, leaning into you, his lips brushing against your nose before pulling you in a kiss. “i promise.”

this was supposed to have a lil bonus when they got back to the tower, revealing the team's true involvement with the blind date, buttt i might just do it some other time as a snippet/part 2 instead. i still have a few to write anyway, woops.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[bbyseok]

More teen satosugu x reader please!

thinking about clingy teen satosugu who only get even clingier when they suddenly get hit with a curse that turns them into… dogs?

a pair of wolves, to be exact. it’s so blatantly obvious on who’s who—there’s one wolf with fur as white as the first winter’s snow and uncanny blue eyes. the other is the color as dark as night with a pair of warm purple hues that strike into your soul.

they sit at yaga’s side like loyal lapdogs—only to perk up immediately to run and tackle you to the floor as soon as you set foot in the classroom.

“what the—?!” you splutter in surprise, unable to escape their wrath of licks descending upon your face as you look to yaga for help.

the principal simply crosses his arms and shakes his head. “satoru and suguru got hit with a curse.” and that’s it to his entire explanation, as it’s very obvious what happened to them.

when you finally manage to shove their muzzles away from your face, you groan in disbelief. “how long are they going to be stuck like this?”

“no clue.”

so just like that, you’re suddenly a caretaker for two oversized puppies who can’t seem to leave you alone—because apparently they absolutely refuse to hang out with anyone else.

they follow you literally everywhere on campus like a pair of lost puppies— you find it funny and even almost endearing out of all things.

coincidentally, this is after the night you had discovered them sharing your bed after you returned early from a solo mission. they had merely scampered out of your room after that—leaving you unable to ask them why they were in your bed in the first place.

and you certainly can’t ask them now.

“i thought you started smoking again?”

shoko shakes her head at your question, the faintest of smirks ghosting over her lips. “i did. but i think this is a better way to spend my time.” and then she nods to the two wolves sitting in front of you both.

you’re out on one of the training fields with shoko and your classmates-turned-dogs to test their… abilities. they lack any cursed energy, so it’s safe to assume that they can’t use their techniques.

“bet if you threw a stick, they’d fetch it for you,” a rare snicker comes from shoko along with her suggestion.

to which you simply roll your eyes at, but you find yourself grabbing a lengthy stick anyways. you’re unaware of how satoru’s and suguru’s eyes follow the item in your hand like moths to a flame as you hand it to shoko.

your short-haired friend flings the stick, but the boys don’t even dare to flinch. it’s quiet, save for the occasional thumping of their tails on the floor.

“see?” you shoot shoko a pointed look. she merely shrugs. when you walk over to pick the stick back up, you throw your friend a question over your shoulder, “did you know satoru and suguru were sneaking in my room at night while i’ve been gone?”

it’s news to her, but she doesn’t appear to be surprised in the slightest. “nope. sounds like something they’d do though.”

you grab the stick off the grass, turning to look at her and your classmates-turned-dogs. your gaze lingers on the canines for a moment. they’re obviously smarter than normal dogs, but you’re not sure about the extent of how well they can understand you in these forms.

“well.. i think they were kinda cute actually,” you confess, dragging your gaze back to shoko with a laugh, “you should’ve seen them, being all cuddly.”

a grim line settles on shoko’s lips at the image. “pass.”

you laugh again before turning and throwing the stick as hard as you can across the field. you watch it land several feet away, and then—

gojo and geto race past you, nothing but blurs of fur as they race each other to reach the piece of wood you had tossed. it’s hard to see who gets there first, because they start wrestling for the damn thing.

shoko simply snorts. “told ya.”

later on, with nighttime making its approach, the boys follow you into your dorm, seemingly determined to still accompany you. you hadn’t been sure on what to feed them since dog food seemed rather crude, settling to share your dinner with them.

and here you are, slipping into bed. just the night before, you had seen them all cozy under your blanket. in all actuality, you wouldn’t have minded sharing the bed with them. (depsite how cramped it would’ve been.) it’s just that now… they’re wolves.

suguru is beside you, circling in place in an effort to get comfortable on the blanket, whilst satoru opts for plopping his fluffy self riiiiight on your stomach. you emit an ‘oof!’ at his ministrations, but the white canine merely fixes you with a puppy-dog stare and you don’t go to protest.

“comfy, you two?” you hum out an inquiry, to which they snuggle into you further.

geto tucks himself closely by your side, burying himself under your arm as his silky fur tickles your skin. and gojo wiggles his chin on your abdomen, sky blue eyes already starting to flutter sleepily.

when you doze off, you dream of wolves and sticks.

and when you wake, it’s not the morning light trickling into the space of your room that stirs you from your slumber. rather, it’s the sound of gentle breathing and— heavy weight atop you.

it’s satoru and suguru, still in their spots from when they had fallen asleep, except— they’re humans again.

gojo’s body is draped over yours, one of his lanky legs dangling off the small mattress hilariously, his head lying just below your chest with his arms laxly wrapped around your abdomen. and geto is hugging your side, the air of his steady breaths hot on the skin of your neck. his long hair is messy, brushing against the underside of your chin.

oh.

oh shit.

what the hell are you supposed to do now? you obviously can’t move, not with all three of your bodies so intimately entangled with each other. you decide to risk it, trying to calm your racing heart and gingerly attempting to sit up.

you’re halfway there, when geto suddenly grumbles and yanks you back down to the pillows again. “s’too early to move,” he says in a hazy mumble.

aaaaand there goes your heart again. before you can reply, you here gojo groan sleepily, and he then manages to get out a groggy “good morning.”

“…good morning,” you follow up, now hyperaware of their touch, “i see that you’re not dogs anymore…”

satoru blinks owlishly, seeming to finally notice your… predicament. but he also seems more irked by where geto is, so crawls up to be on your other side, planting his face right into your neck too.

“a wonderful observation,” suguru murmurs in a small snicker.

it’s quiet for a few moments, and it’s obvious that they aren’t planning to move from their spots any time soon. (you think you can get used to it.)

you decide it’s the perfect time to ask: “care to tell me why you were in my bed the other night?”

gojo mumbles something, but you can see the tips of his ears flush a pretty pink. suguru is the one who speaks up again after a moment. “…we missed you.”

“..oh.” your face feels warm at the simple confession, and an airy laugh breezes out of you at how— adorable their reasoning is. “well.. i missed you guys too.”

satoru hums an acknowledgment at that. there’s silence again for a while, before he breaks it. “you think we’re cute?”

oh— so they were able to understand you as dogs. you groan, moving an arm to cover your eyes out of slight embarrassment. “shut up. you two were the ones who sneaking into my room.”

“that was suguru’s idea-”

“you snuck in on your own, satoru.”

“you used their shampoo!”

“you stole their shirts first!”

“i can still kick you off this bed.”

“i’d like to see you try.”

you groan once more—albeit a fond sound—still trapped between them, “i wish you two were dogs again.”

[inseobts]

(Accidental) PDA

characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid

words count: around 300-500 each

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro:

The crew is gathered at a lively tavern, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You’re seated next to Zoro, who, as usual, seems more focused on his drink than the conversation. His arm is draped casually along the back of the bench, and at some point, probably without realizing it, his fingers start lightly tracing circles on your shoulder.

It’s absentminded, subconscious, but you notice.

And so does everyone else.

You don’t say anything at first, just letting yourself enjoy the rare show of affection. Zoro isn’t exactly the touchy type, so the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers against your skin is something to savor. You lean into him just a little, and his grip unconsciously tightens.

Then, Sanji snickers “Didn’t take you for the clingy type, Marimo.”

Zoro’s fingers stops instantly.

You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he replays the last few minutes, piecing together what just happened. His arm stiffens, and when you glance up, you find his face frozen in mild horror, like his own body has just betrayed him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice comes out a little too sharp, too defensive, which only makes Sanji smirk wider.

“Oh, nothing” The cook takes a drag of his cigarette “It’s just cute, that's all. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get all touchy in public.”

Zoro yanks his arm back so fast you almost fall sideways “I wasn’t!” He groans, rubbing his face like he can physically scrub the moment from existence “It wasn’t on purpose.”

You stifle a laugh, reaching up to pat his arm “Relax, Zoro. It’s fine.”

He glares at you, but there’s a bit of redness creeping up his neck “I don’t do that stuff in public.”

Sanji hums, clearly enjoying this way too much “Mhm. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”

Zoro grumbles something under his breath, clearly ready to die on this hill. But even as he crosses his arms and scowls at his drink, his knee remains pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, you’ll take what you can get.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

The sun is setting over the Sunny, casting golden hues across the deck. Dinner is long over, but most of the crew lingers, full and satisfied. You sit beside Sanji near the railing, listening to the breeze and the distant laughter of the others. He’s in a good mood, smiling as he talks to you about a new dessert he’s planning, something with caramel and sea salt, he says, because “a contrast of flavors makes things more exciting, mon amour.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t bother fighting it. Sanji flirts like he breathes, and by now, you’ve just learned to go along with it.

Then, it happens.

You’re mid-sip of your drink when Sanji, without thinking, reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s so natural, so smooth, that it takes you a second to process what just happened. The conversation around you continues, but you feel frozen, heat creeping up your neck.

Sanji, of course, remains utterly unaware. He keeps talking like nothing’s happened, his fingers lingering near your ear for just a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t even a grand gesture, just an absentminded, casual thing. But the way it makes your heart stutter? Absolutely unfair.

Unfortunately, someone does notice.

“Oi, Sanji,” Usopp teases, leaning over the table with a shit-eating grin “Didn’t know you were already at the ‘tucking their hair back like a romance novel protagonist’ stage.”

Sanji blinks “Hah?”

Nami chuckles “That was smooth, even for you.”

Sanji frowns, clearly replaying the last few seconds in his head. His hand twitches, as if only now realizing what it just did. He looks at you, at your slightly wide eyes, at the way you’re still holding your drink midair like an idiot, and then… it hits him.

“Oh—!” His face erupts into red “I—I wasn’t—! That was—!”

He immediately buries his face in his hands, groaning “Shit… I didn’t even notice I—!”

“You touched their hair, Sanji,” Usopp deadpans, grinning. “That’s practically a confession.”

Sanji sputters, waving his arms dramatically “It’s not like that! I— I just—” He stops, then sighs, rubbing his temples. “Mon dieu…”

You watch him, amused. The smooth-talking, ever-flirty Sanji, reduced to a blushing mess over one small gesture.

You smile. Maybe you didn’t mind it so much after all.

Trafalgar D. Water Law:

Trafalgar Law doesn't do public displays of affection. The man acts like love is a classified disease, and he’s the only doctor qualified to handle it.

Which is why the Heart Pirates are absolutely living for this moment.

It starts small, Bepo makes an offhand comment about how you and Law seem weirdly close today. And by that, he means Law has casually draped an arm around your waist while reading his book.

Then it escalates.

Law, your usually grumpy, no-nonsense captain, absentmindedly feeds you a bite of his food at dinner. Like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.

The crew goes silent.

Then whispers.

Then snickering.

Shachi elbows Penguin “Did you see that?”

“I felt that” Penguin whispers back, eyes wide.

“Are we being punked?” Ikkaku mutters “Is this a medical experiment or what?”

Meanwhile, Law, completely oblivious, keeps eating... until he notices just how unnaturally quiet everyone has gotten. He glances up, fork mid-air, only to be met with a table full of smug grins and barely contained laughter.

“…What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Bepo smiles innocently “Nothing, Captain. Please, continue being adorable.”

Law blinks. Then slowly turns to you, as if just now realizing what he’s done.

You, being the absolute menace that you are, grin and open your mouth again, waiting for another bite.

A muscle in his jaw twitches.

“You’re enjoying this” he mutters.

“Oh, immensely.”

Law exhales through his nose, looking between the crew and you. For a second, it seems like he’ll retreat, go full grumpy captain mode,

but instead, he smirks, leans in, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

The chaos that erupts is instant.

Shachi falls out of his chair. Penguin screams. Bepo claps. Ikkaku nearly chokes on her drink.

Law, of course, acts like nothing happened and goes right back to eating.

But the red tips of his ears? Oh yeah. That’s a win.

Portgas D. Ace:

The bonfire crackles, casting a golden glow over the Whitebeard Pirates as laughter and conversation fill the night air. You’re sitting next to Ace, comfortably close, the warmth of the fire mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.

He’s relaxed, grinning as he chats with Marco, one arm casually slung over the back of the log where you're sitting. It's nothing unusual... Ace has always been a little touchy without thinking much of it. But at some point, his fingers start absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in slow, lazy motions.

You blink.

The conversation continues like nothing’s happening, and Ace doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s so comfortable, so unaware, until Thatch smirks over his tankard and loudly clears his throat.

“Well, well” Thatch drawls, tapping his mug against Marco’s “Didn’t realize we were in the middle of a romantic drama. Should we leave you two alone?”

Ace freezes mid-twist of your hair.

His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he slowly lets the strand slip from his grip. The realization crashes down on him in real-time, his freckles disappearing under the deepening red of his face.

“Huh?” His voice cracks slightly “I...That’s not...”

Marco chuckles, sipping his drink “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, yoi.”

Ace immediately throws a handful of sand in his direction, scowling. “Shut up!” His voice is a little too high-pitched to be threatening “I wasn’t—! It wasn’t on purpose!”

“Sure” Thatch grins, wiggling his eyebrows “Accidental flirting. A classic.”

Ace groans into his hands, looking very much like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You, on the other hand, are biting back a laugh as you lean in slightly.

“Didn’t know you liked playing with my hair” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.

His head snaps to you, wide-eyed, before he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. You’re pretty sure you catch the words never living this down.

Still, despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t move away, his warmth lingers beside you, a silent contradiction to his flustered protests.

Eustass Kid:

The atmosphere in the tavern is loud and chaotic, just the way the Kid Pirates like it. The crew is drinking, shouting, and causing their usual brand of mayhem while you sit beside Kid, with your drink. He’s in a rare good mood tonight, smirking as he argues with Killer over some pointless bet.

You’re just relaxing, letting the warmth of the room settle into your bones, when you feel it... Kid’s hand resting on your thigh.

Not just resting. His fingers drum absently against your skin, his grip solid, like it belongs there.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. He’s not the type for public affection. Hell, he barely acknowledges feelings exist, so the fact that he’s touching you like this, so casually, is… unexpected.

And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.

You glance down, then back up at him. He’s still engaged in his conversation with Killer, completely unaware of the way his thumb is now slowly tracing circles against your leg.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine. You can just pretend like this isn’t affecting you...

"Oi, Kid" Heat suddenly snickers from across the table, eyes gleaming with mischief "y/n is so red that it like they're about to explode. Didn’t know you were the handsy type."

Kid pauses mid-sentence "Huh?"

He follows Heat’s gaze, straight to where his hand is resting on you. His fingers twitch. You feel the exact moment his brain catches up with his body, the slow realization creeping onto his face.

The entire table is watching now, grinning like they’ve just witnessed something hilarious.

"Shit," Kid mutters, yanking his hand away like he’s been burned. His face twists into a scowl, and his cheeks—just barely—tinge red "I wasn’t—!" His voice raises, defensive. "It was just—!"

Killer snorts "Yeah, sure. Just absentmindedly groping them in the middle of a crowded tavern. Totally normal."

The crew erupts into laughter. Kid growls, kicking Heat’s chair out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor "Shut the hell up!"

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin.

Even as he huffs and glares at his drink, grumbling about stupid bastards and their stupid comments, his knee remains firmly pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, he’s not moving away.

And neither are you.

[f1lovr]

LOUD AND CLEAR | LN4

pairing: lando norris x fem!deaf reader

summary: the 4 times that fans noticed the way lando was with you and the 1 time they finally realized why.

warnings: none i don't think

1.the garage whispers

fans noticed things, they always did, but sometimes their reasons were a little bit off, like with lando and his girlfriend.

you had been in the mclaren garage one day. while lando's world was loud, yours was quiet. you were completely deaf, you had cochlear implants but sometimes during race weekends they would get overwhelmed with the loud noise making it harder to process what was happening.

one thing that lando never failed to do though was lean closer for you to hear him. his head falling down so his lips were by your ear, making sure your implants could pick up what he was saying.

"you okay?" he asked you, his voice soft and gentle but still loud enough for your implants to pick up easily, his hand gently resting at the small of your back.

you nodded your head with a smile, "just loud" you say softly.

he nodded his head knowing you hated when he fussed over you and that if you got overwhelmed you'd either tell him or you would leave so he knew you were okay.

his hand came up to tap his heart 3 times, not exactly sign language but a sign that you both had started doing, the simple act saying "i love you."

you smiled and tapped your heart back before saying a small goodbye to him as he left to go get ready for qualifying.

the small whispers and acts didn't go unnoticed by fans though, their theories being far from the truth though.

user1: the way lando's so in love with her user2: watching them whisper to each other feels so intimate user3: WHAT DID HE SAY TO HER?

2.his little taps

lando didn't ever call for you, even when you could hear him. every time he wanted your attention he would simply tap you, a small shoulder tap, the squeeze of an arm, tap on the wrist, just something small.

one time that it was noticed by fans was when you were walking into the paddock together. lando had gotten stopped by some fans and as if on instinct his hand had come to tap your shoulder to get your attention

you turned to him with a small smile, watching as he didn't say anything simply gesturing to the group of fans letting you know he had stopped to sign some stuff, standing and waiting for him to finish with the fans before you guys continued. nothing had been said between the two of you, just silent communication which definitely caused an uproar between fans.

user1: why did bro tap her instead of calling for her user2: he's so in love he needs her to feel him before he speaks user3: they're actually so cute, the way he didn't have to say anything and she knew.

3.face offs

even when you were wearing your cochlears sometimes it was hard to hear so lando would always face you when he spoke so you could read his lips easier.

dinner? he was sat in front of you. talking with fans? he made sure you were stood in front of who was talking to you if you were with him. interviews? if you were watching he was always facing you in some way so you could see his lips.

fans picked up on the pattern easily. the way he always stood in front of you before he started speaking, or the way he'd turn your head, it confused them for sure not knowing the reasoning but they still speculated.

user1: lando being a soft boyfriend for the 200th time. user2: the way he always makes sure she can see him, i love them your honor :( user3: they're so in love it's sickening

4. the signs

it was a no brainer that lando would learn sign language when you guys started to date, despite being able to hear him with your implants he still wanted to learn so if you weren't wearing them he could communicate.

the moment the fans started noticing was during a podium. lando had just finished in P2 and while he was up there he had signed "i love you" to you. from there the fans had started noticing the smaller moments.

the small signs in the garage when he was talking to you, the random signs in interviews as if someone was watching that he wanted them to see.

a favorite clip would be during one of lando's twitch streams though. he was playing a game but suddenly had paused it turning to look in the doorway. you were off camera so they couldn't see you as you stood trying to get lando's attention without disturbing him.

what they did see though was the way lando turned to you and instead of saying anything he had signed with his hands, a silent conversation just for the two of you.

"sorry guys, just checking something," lando had said after turning back to the stream when you had left, leaving the fans confused.

user1: WAS HE SIGNING? user2: since when did lando know sign language? user3: was he signing to Y/N?

+1 the time where everything clicked.

you had been with lando in the paddock one day during a race weekend. at this point you were deaf to the world because the batteries for your implants had died. you were stood scourging for your spares in lando's bag when fans came up, getting lando's attention and trying to get yours.

they were confused when they called your name and you didn't answer until lando tapped you making your head look up from where it was buried searching in the bag on his back, a huge smile coming to your face when you notice the fans.

"hi!" you say as you come to stand at lando's side.

"she's deaf, she can read lips though so just make sure you're facing her when you speak," lando explained, signing with his hands.

the fans' mouths dropped, everything making so much more sense to them, the whispers, the small taps, the way he was always faced to you, the way he knew sign language.

while you talked with fans, taking a couple times to ask for repeats, lando was searching in his bag for your batteries, changing them out for you before a gentle hand came to your shoulder to not startle you as he put them on for you, the noise of the paddock filling your ears as they connected.

the both of you finished talking with the fans, taking a couple pictures with them before saying goodbye, knowing the announcement was about to break the internet.

user1: omg she's deaf it all makes so much more sense now. user2: STOP HE LEARNED SIGN LANGUAGE FOR HER user3: lando "i'd learn another language for her" norris user4: they are actually so cute

everything clicked for the fans after that day, and suddenly lando's love for you was so much bigger, because he didn't just love you, he understood you, and did everything he could do so you could understand him.

[dyingswanpavlova]

Treasure

Pairing: Hwang In-ho/The Frontman × Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Smut, Age Gap (Reader is 25, In-ho is 54), Usage of Daddy, Mentions of Emotional Abuse in the Past, Low Self-Esteem, Sex as a Business Deal, Edging, Spanking, Overstimulation, Face Slapping, Oral Sex (Both receiving), Gagging, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Minors do not interact!

Author's note: It's mostly bad experiences and smut. Anyone who knows me, knows I can't do wholesome...But, you guys, I'm trying!

It has been quite a while since his wife died and he hasn't gotten over it. But now he found someone who brings out a softer side of him...or makes him feel anything at all. Even if it's just the fact that he doesn't have to dine and sleep alone.

The day of her death was always the worst.

Of course he was always cold. One might even muster up the courage to call it cruel.

He was a complicated man in any sense of the word. While he was as cunning as he was handsome, he was also cool and composed. He didn’t ever lose that tight composure, until he allowed himself to. There were only few situations that allowed him to let loose and unleash the beast that lived within him.

It was rather obvious that there was more to him. The way he carried himself made it seem like he was no more than the stoic business man, but sometimes, sometimes you caught a soft glimpse of whatever was underneath. The way his eyes shone in a certain light.

 His brother was enough.

His wife, of course.

 But you were clever. And your sense of self-preservation forbade you to pry. All you had to do was do your job. And what was your job?

You found yourself applying a drop of perfume to your neck and your wrists, staring at your form in the mirror. The black lace covered most of your intimate parts, but it was just enough to leave him yearning for more. He liked that especially – when he had to use his imagination.

But sometimes, on rare occasions like that night, he needed more. He needed a little, naughty dream, to distract him from the turmoil that raged within him.

He was never cruel to you. He was just cold.

It wasn’t like you minded. So far, you had heard all kinds of things from a few friends of yours. Men could be vile creatures, who performed the most heinous crimes, whenever they felt like it. You were sure you could call yourself lucky, when it came to that.

He was older, that was out of question. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Not for you anyway.

You couldn’t tell when that started or what the exact reason was.

Your father had been a fairly good man. He never abused you and never hurt you out of the ordinary. The occasional session of spanking was something that stopped once you got older. Of course a child that steps out of line will get punished. It’s not that dramatic and you were sure, you took no damage after that.

He had been a kind man. Good-hearted. He loved you, your sister and your mother very much.

Until he got drunk.

Of course, he loved you then as well. And he never hit you then, either. Not you.

Your mother, sure. The poor, sweet woman she was. Her broken spirit cracked through the light in which her soul was covered, because she was strong like that. Gentle, but strong.

He wasn’t gentle when he drank. No, all you had to do was say the wrong thing at the wrong time and suddenly he’d explode. The way he yelled out of nowhere was the worst thing. The way he gritted his teeth like a wild animal.

You had flinched more than once during the course of your life, simply because he got so angry.

But after a while, he always calmed down, didn’t he? He came down from his demonic horror trip and suddenly, he was good again.

Of course he was proud. Too proud for anyone’s good. His pride often kept him from apologizing. In most cases, he’d just try and act like nothing changed, like nothing happened, like he didn’t just made the walls crumble with his anger.

But sometimes, when he went really overboard, he managed to swallow his pride and then he would apologize. A hug, a kiss, and everything was back to normal.

You forgave him. Why wouldn’t you? He was your father. He loved you.

But daddy issues? No. He was there, after all. He didn’t abuse you. Didn’t hit you.

You had no issues. Why would you?

Right?

You finished applying the perfume and decided to put on some lip balm. It held the faintest hint of rose-color. He didn’t like too much make-up. He didn’t like anything that felt like you were playing dress-up. The silk on your body, it only made sense if it highlighted your character in a way. Not change it.

The gloss on your lips, the blush on your cheeks. No eyeshadow allowed, unless it were natural colors. Mascara was alright, but no fake lashes.

Blush was okay, contour was not.

Lace was okay, leather was not.

J’adore was okay, Chanel Number 5 was not.

You released a slow breath and took a moment longer to check your appearance.

You were pretty, you knew that. Probably not in the way that made you get voted prom queen. More in the way that made weird men ogle you.

That was a talent of yours you had figured out at some point. Your eyes were expressive. And people loved to eye-fuck you.

Sometimes, you’d indulge. It depended on the man and the situation. It depended on the way his eyes on you made you feel.

Not any man would do. Some were perverts, some were disgusting, some desperate. You didn’t look back, when a man walked beside his oblivious wife and looked at you like he was ready to devour you. You also didn’t look back, when a man stared at you with wide eyes and licked his lip in a way that was too lecherous at once.

A subtle glance.

Not even a smile.

Just a look.

You’d look away and after a while, you’d check again. The feeling that spread in your chest was often the same. One of recognition, of attention. It made you feel pretty and desired. Someone wanted you. They were subtle about it, but not subtle enough to refrain themselves from staring.

In most cases, it didn’t lead to anything.

Sure, you had that messed-up phase, after you turned nineteen. Looking back, you really wished your father had been stricter with you. You were always allowed to do whatever you wanted. Meet who you want, do what you want, unless, of course, it got dark outside. No walking alone in the dark.

But he never checked who you were with, if you were truly where you said you were. Your parents trusted you. Back in the day, when you told them you had already finished your homework, they trusted you. Your bad grades weren’t their fault. They had trusted you to do better.

Back when you were nineteen, when you told them you were at the cinema with a few friends, they trusted you. They didn’t check, if maybe you were getting pounded away by some forty-seven year old man, who came on your face and left you feeling used and humiliated.

Never during. Always after.

You had no idea why you felt like you needed this so badly. Attention of men. Approval of men.

Men.

They were never good to you. They used you in most cases and then they’d just up and leave.

First, you were naïve. You pictured all kinds of things. Your mother’s Italian friend, who’d take you to Rome and buy you gelato. You’d walk some coast and he’d show you the lovely way Italians lived. He’d love you, you were sure.

It didn’t matter than he had a daughter your age or maybe even a few years older.

He’d love you.

But of course, he didn’t. Silly you, you really believed that, didn’t you? And he didn’t even say he would. You just made up that version of him in your head.

Some sweet guy from Oregon, who sang Arctic Monkeys song for you with his guitar. You only spoke online, but why care? You’d go and live the American dream with him. Of course you would. He had those soft, brown eyes and the voice of an angel.

You’d give him as many babies as he wanted.

So, of course you agreed, when he asked you to take your top off. Suck on your fingers, look up at the camera with doe eyes, while you did. You slipped two fingers inside yourself, moaning and gasping. Of course you were pretending. Who got off on this? Not you. All he did was stare at you. You didn’t see his face, while he pulled his pants down. It was either his face or the rest of him. But you were looking at him, while you touched yourself for him. It didn’t take him long to cum. But that was alright. You’d get married, after all. In some cases, long distance worked. This was one of them of course.

Blocked.

You spent months trying to find him again. But no way. He was gone, deleted, lost in the depths of the internet. A lost memory. A shameful one.

Sometimes you asked yourself, why your sister turned out normal. She had a job, a family, a husband who loved her. Or did he?

He did get angry, at times. And those few times when he called her a slut, when they argued. It wasn’t that bad, right?

That one time he left her standing at the sidewalk in the middle of the night, in a foreign city. It wasn’t that bad, right? She had angered him after all.

You felt nauseous, just thinking about it. Your sister was the epitome of life and liveliness. She was so spirited, that sometimes her anger scared you. Her confidence did for sure. She was your father’s daughter after all.

But the bastard she married broke that spirit.

And she didn’t even realize it. She just let it happen. You didn’t understand it.

But what you did understand was that she wasn’t as perfect as you always thought. Things were a little more complicated than you initially thought. But you were still far behind her.

You tried to push the thoughts of your messed-up existence and upbringing aside and focus on the task at hand.

Him.

Mr. Important.

You knew his real name and he knew yours, but names didn’t really matter. All you normally called him was daddy.

But luckily, you weren’t babygirl or little girl. That felt odd, even to you. It wasn’t that he was after that – someone who was remarkably younger than him. You just happened to be.

He was fifty-four, going fifty-five. You were twenty-five, going twenty-six.

Thirty years more or less, who cared about that?

And he didn’t really look his age. You found, he looked a good forty-six, maybe.

But aside from that, he was different. The were two kind of men in the world.

The real ones and the made up ones.

The ones who ogled you, while they were walking beside their wives and the ones who never got over their wife’s death and were looking for a way to distract themselves.

You had seen a picture of her. He didn’t make a secret of it. No, he was proud to having loved her. The thought filled you with something bittersweet. A part of you was jealous. Jealous, that someone got loved so intensely, that she’d never be forgotten, ever.

After all, she died young and pregnant. It made you nauseous.

And another part of you, the far bigger part, the less selfish part, it admired him.

He loved her. He loved her so dearly, that she took a great part of his soul with him, when she left.

God, you wished to be loved like that. To be loved at all.

You remembered the way you first met him. The subtle eye-contact. No smile.

But you didn’t feel like you normally did. Something about him was different. He wasn’t lecherous. He was calm. Almost like he was…lonely.

And he understood your loneliness.

The arrangement came quick and without any fuss. He did pay you, but not with money per say. He paid for your studies, he bought you gifts, sometimes he took you out to places you had never been before.

The theatre. The ballet. The opera, even.

That was what you loved the most. He didn’t just use you and left you feeling empty. He didn’t even fuck you every time you saw him. Sometimes you’d just go out. Have dinner. Talk.

You talked a lot and about everything. Sometimes you felt like you were an old soul, sometimes you felt like you knew nothing at all. He knew things. He looked at you. He listened to you.

Sometimes he could be really funny. On other nights he was rather quiet.

You didn’t care if he absentmindedly played with your hand or hair or if he stared straight ahead. Whatever he did, it always made your heart race.

You understood that you were treading on very thin ice.

Feelings were not a part of the arrangement.

He would never love you. You would never be more to him than treasure.

But when you lay there, your head on his chest and still breathless after you just spent hours doing the most wicked things to each other, you couldn’t help yourself. You craved his warmth. His arms around you and how protected he made you feel.

You couldn’t make a mistake. Nothing you did ever made him yell at you.

And that was rather dangerous.

Because you could picture it so easily. Being his wife. His everything. Having his children. Cooking his dinner. Doing all the things loving people did.

All the things loved people did.

You pushed the thought aside with intense fervor, when you heard his raspy voice call out for you.

“Treasure? Are you alright?”

You nearly gasped when you realized how long you had been in there. With a soft shake of your head and a slow exhale, you pushed down the door handle and stepped out of the bathroom. He stood in front of the fireplace and stared down at the flames, lost in thought. When he heard the door open, he looked up and met your gaze. Something in him stiffened for a moment and his gaze ran down your body slowly. You swallowed thickly and tried to push your nervousness aside.

You wanted to be perfect for him. But you were so far from perfect. Each and every time you feared he would look at you, scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t remember that much skin.”

“You looked younger last time.”

“Where’d that wrinkle come from?”

But of course he never said anything like that. Simply your insecurities, giving you a hard time.

He hummed softly and shifted so that he was fully facing you.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured. “Come here.”

You approached him with slow steps, the sound of your tiptoes the only sound beside the crackling of the fireplace.

You came to a halt before him and he tipped your chin up in a gentle way, slowly tilting your head up and making you look at him. He brushed his lips over yours in the softest way, making you shiver in response.

His hand slowly ran down the side of your neck, until his fingers brushed over the lace that covered your collarbone. His eyes followed the movement and he released a soft sigh.

“You get more and more beautiful every day.”

How did he expect you not to fall in love with him, when he was being like this?

“Thank you.” You whispered in return and swallowed a bit of your nervousness.

His eyes crinkled in a smile that hardly reached his eyes and his hands slowly came down to grip your hips.

“You know what day today is?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He whispered and dropped his hands to his sides. “Then be a good girl for daddy and distract him.”

You licked your lips and slowly pushed him back. He was letting you. Until you reached the armchair and he slowly sat down on it. You stood before him and tipped his chin up, making him look up at you now. The look in his eyes was nothing short of admiration. His breath against your skin sent a pleasant tingle down your spine.

You slowly straddled his lap and rested your knees on the armrests, pressing yourself against him and feeling the hardness in his pants press into you already. But not yet, you thought. Why not tease him a little?

You leaned in as if to kiss him, but the second before your lips met, you slowly pulled your head back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A low growl grumbled in his chest. “Stop being a brat.” He murmured.

You bit your lip and leaned back with a grin. “Me? A brat?”

“You’re just asking to be punished.”

That made you chuckle. “Well…”

“Oh, I see.” He tangled a hand in your hair and tugged on it, tilting your head back and making you look up at him. “That’s how you want to play?” He murmured and his hot breath fanned over your lips and neck. “Alright, then. I invented this game, little dove.”

He released his grip on your hair and grabbed you by the hips, standing up and holding you against him. He picked you up like you weighed nothing and strode off to the bed, practically throwing you down onto it. The sudden intensity left you breathless and you looked up at him with wide eyes. He reached for his tie and slowly undid it.

“I thought you were daddy’s good girl. Looks like I was wrong.”

He sounded as calm as ever, not a hint of anger as usual. He was just being himself.

“I am your good girl.”

“I’d prefer you to be bad right now. Because I feel like punishing you.”

You swallowed thickly and bit your lip, like you did every so often when he got you cornered like this.

“How?” You whispered.

He smirked in that delicious way, which lit his whole face up without even trying. Then he slowly pulled the tie off and ran his fingers along the soft material.

“Turn around.”

Within seconds, you were on your knees and facing away from him. His hands were gentle as he reached for your wrists and brought them behind your back to tie them together. You took a slow breath and closed your eyes, while your body surrendered. It wasn’t hard for you. You trusted him. He knew your boundaries.

For whatever reason, with him you had boundaries.

Never in your life before had you ever told anyone to stop or not do something. Was it fear of being rejected? Simply fear? Something else? Whatever it was, it kept you from setting healthy rules to keep your body and mind safe. You were free to use. Anyone just did whatever they wanted.

Sometimes you did protest, but they wouldn’t stop and eventually you gave in.

But not so him.

He had asked not once, not twice, but countless times. Until eventually you had been forced to be honest and tell him what it was that threw you off. And to your surprise, he didn’t get angry, didn’t even move a muscle. He just nodded and accepted it.

There were a few freaky things you were into and you were obviously allowing him to do. But if there was something that you didn’t want, he didn’t do it. Just like that.

How hard it was not to fall for him. Impossible even.

He tied your wrists together fairly tight and made a point of pulling on the tie to make sure it was good enough. You felt his gaze roam along your back silently. He then ran his fingertips up your back, over your shoulder blades and eventually the back of your neck.

“You’re my little brat, aren’t you?” He purred.

When you didn’t respond at first, he made a point of gently tugging on your hair.

“Yes.” You whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

When you nodded, he tugged again, slightly harder this time. You gasped and immediately added: “Yes. Yes, I’ve been bad.”

“So, you deserve to be punished. How should I punish you?”

There was only one right answer to that.

“However you wish.”

You heard the way he smirked. “Good girl. You’re learning.”

He hummed and slowly circled you like a predator. Of course you felt rather exposed, kneeling on the bed like that, wearing nothing but that thin piece of lace and nothing to cover the dampness between your legs.

“Look at you.” He murmured. “So open and ready for me. Let’s see how ready, shall we?”

He didn’t hesitate to slide his hand between your legs and run a finger over your wetness. You couldn’t help but inhale sharply. Your body was aching for his touch.

Surprisingly, he knew how to make you cum. Pretty good even. No other man had ever accomplished that. You’d normally count only on yourself for that, but Mr. Important? Fuck, he was skilled.

He circled your clit in the same skilled way, causing you to squirm and gasp under his touch. He began to work his fingers on you more and more quickly, keeping his gaze firmly on your face. Your brows furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and embarrassment, but you didn’t care. You were so close. So close. So-

You whimpered when he sharply withdrew his hand, leaving you aching.

“Please-“ You whined.

“Not yet.” He said calmly. “Open your mouth.”

You obeyed wordlessly, allowing him to slide his slick fingers into your mouth and making you taste yourself on him. The bulge in his pants became more and more obvious and it did things to you. The way he looked at you, while he made you suck on his fingers was enough to make you go dripping wet. After a beat, he slowly pulled his fingers back and dried them against his shirt. You let out a shuddering gasp.

“You still ought to be punished, if I recall correctly.”

“Wasn’t this punishment enough?” You whispered.

He smirked. “Not even close.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently draped you over his lap, stomach down and your rear up in the air. Your cheek was pressed against the sheets and you closed your eyes.

“Ten. You know the rules.” He murmured and you nodded.

His flat hand cracked against your skin, sending a sharp pain through your body. He wasn’t gentle about that. Not at all.

You cried out in pain and tried not to squirm too much. “One. Thank you, daddy.” You gasped out.

He hummed approvingly, before his hand came down a second time, causing you to wince and cry out again. Somehow, every strike seemed to get more and more rough. Your skin felt raw and sensitive, more and more with every hit, but you forced yourself to stay still and count, like a good girl. By the time you reached the seventh hit, the pain was nearly unbearable. But you knew better than to beg and plead. It only turned him on more and he was ready and eager to start anew.

“Nine. Thank you, daddy.”

“One more. Just one more, treasure. You’re almost done.”

He deliberately waited for a few seconds, causing you to go rigid and tense in his grip. The uncertainty of when the next hit would follow was nearly killing you. Just when you expected it and you winced forcefully, he instead ran his palm along your red skin gently. You took a deep breath.

And then it came.

The most painful of them all and you immediately felt tears sting your eyes. Your voice cracked as you cried out: “T-ten. Ten. Thank you. Thank you, daddy.”

He made a soft sound, filled with approval and a hint of pride. “That’s my good girl. You did so well. I’m proud of you.”

His words made you feel warm and fuzzy and suddenly you felt like crying even more. Your feelings for him were more complicated than you thought.

“Thank you.” You whispered, still trying to catch your breath.

“I think you deserve a reward.” He murmured.

You tried to swallow, with your mouth dry and whispered: “I do?”

He ran a gentle hand over your hair and hummed again.

“You do. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He shifted you gently so you lay on the mattress instead, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes. He ran his knuckles over your cheek and smiled slowly.

“Was it too much?”

You shook your head.

He took a slow breath and nodded. “Good.” He shifted so he was on top of you now and pressed a leg between your own. His knee slowly pressed against your core and you felt your eyes fall shut. You didn’t try to hide your pathetic whimper.

He smirked against your ear and gently nipped at it. “Look at that. Have you been this wet all the time?”

Your face flushed painfully and you swallowed your embarrassment. “Yes.”

He hummed approvingly and ran his lips along your cheek, before they finally met your own. You had no time to understand what was going on, when his tongue already parted your lips and delved into your mouth. He wasn’t sweet about it, instead your tongues met in a messy battle, ready to prod at and devour each other.

“What are you?” He groaned against your lips.

“Your cumslut.” You whispered back.

He groaned again and bit down on your lower lip. “Fuck, yes, my dirty little cumslut. You want daddy’s cum, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned out.

“Where do you want it, treasure? Dripping down your chin or deep inside you?”

Your eyes nearly rolled back. “Wherever you want.”

He pulled back just enough to kiss your neck. His kisses made you squirm and shudder, but it only ever got more and more intense. You felt so exposed and helpless, but also cared for.

He slowly moved his lips along your collarbone, before they brushed over the material that covered your breasts. He bit down on it and tore at until you felt the cold air hit your now exposed chest. He growled in response and didn’t hesitate to kiss and suck at the skin of your breast. Your hips involuntarily arched against his knee, which was still working on your core. You gasped breathlessly and rubbed yourself against him, desperate for more friction.

“Please-“

“Patience.”

He licked a wet path down your stomach, causing you to writhe and moan.

He wasn’t one for half things. When his lips reached your core, he wasn’t gentle or careful. No, his mouth enveloped your most sensitive spot and he began to work his tongue on you almost furiously. He sucked and licked, slid his tongue inside you and over your wet folds with an intensity that made you cry out. He then sucked on your clit in a way that was almost too much, but just right to make you cum so good that you felt like everything around you faded into nothingness. You felt warm and good, better than you had ever before. He took his time and made the moment last, riding out your release so intensely that you nearly had to pull away from him when it became to much. He smirked up at you and slowly came back up to face you. He was fighting for air, as were you.

“Oh God, that was-“

He pushed his tongue back inside your mouth, nearly fucking it. At the same time he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them torturously and pumping them against you in a way that brought you close yet again.

“P-Please, I- Ah!” Your release rolled over you again, hard and soft at the same time, with an intensity that was near painful. Your hips arched off the bed and you nearly screamed by the way you couldn’t find it in you to shut your mouth.

You gasped for air and expected him to finally pull back, but he didn’t. He kept curling his fingers against your sweet spot and the feeling quickly became too much. Your body was so sensitive and every new touch he added felt almost painful.

“Stop- Please- St-“ You cried out and pressed your hips against his hand involuntarily. Your release came crashing yet again, this time it was a feeling between heaven and hell. It still felt good, but it felt far too much.

“Please.” You gasped, before the feeling even was gone. “Please. I can’t take any more…”

He smirked against your lips and gently bit down on the lower one, before he slowly withdrew his hand.

“Good girl.”

You were still panting and gasping for air, when he gave your cheek a light slap. “Time for you to get to work.”

You moaned, and with some effort, fought your way to get up. Your hands were still tied, so you carefully slid down to your knees, kneeling in between his legs. He was still in his pants, so you looked up at him with innocent eyes and whispered: “Can you help me?”

He smirked again and gently cupped your cheek in his hand. “So obedient.”

He freed himself from his remaining clothes and you found yourself staring at him. Despite his age, he was so well-built and you were always desperate for every glimpse, every touch and every taste.

“Can I?” You breathed out.

He hummed and nodded. “Get to it.”

Your gaze wandered down, but he quickly caught your chin. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Your insides tingled with newfound desire. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, while your tongue slowly slid down his stomach. You saw the shift in demeanor. He was still dominant and calm, but his breathing sped up and something changed in his eyes.

“No teasing today.” He all but growled. “Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

You didn’t hesitate to obey. You parted your lips and ran your tongue over his tip. His head fell and back and he groaned. He then tangled his hand in your hair and guided your movements. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, he just pushed you down and forced you to take him in. You were caught off-guard for a moment and felt yourself gag. He loosened his grip the tiniest bit and you began to move in the rhythm and pace that he set for you. He quickly went from calm and collected to a beast which rammed his thick cock into you and began to use your throat to his pleasure.

You felt yourself grow wet yet again as you moaned against his skin. Whenever he seemed to hit the back of your throat, he couldn’t control the low moans and groans that left his lips. Your movements became more and more frantic, determined to make him feel just as good as he had you.

Of course you wanted him to fuck you and he probably would in an hour or two. And again and again and again…But right then, you wanted nothing more than for him to shoot his hot load into your mouth and down your throat.

You sucked and flicked your tongue against him in a way that made his grip tighten more and more until he-

He went still, except for his cock, which was throbbing furiously inside you. He came with a low growl and he filled your mouth with his seed. He held your head in place, until he rode out his release. When he finally caught his breath back, he released a soft sigh and his grip on your hair became gentle again.

“Oh God, that was…” He sighed again. “Fuck.”

You slowly swallowed every drop of his cum, all the while never taking your eyes off him. His eyes instantly darkened again and he ran his thumb over your tongue.

“My good girl. My treasure.” He breathed out. “I’m so proud of you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch. It became increasingly gentle and he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

“That was incredible.” He murmured. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He reached behind you and carefully freed your from his tie. Then he slowly rubbed his thumbs over your sore wrists.

“Does it hurt?” He murmured. You shook your head.

He pulled you up onto the bed again and gently laid you down beside him. He stared down at you for a long moment, before he finally rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know about you, but I could use a full-course meal right now.”

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him, slowly running your hands down his back. “Isn’t that what you just gave me?”

He smirked and slowly opened his eyes. “You and that wicked mouth of yours.” He murmured.

Your smile softened when he pressed a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“Can I stay for the night?”

He would most likely let you. He never sent you away feeling used or unsatisfied or, God forbid, unwanted. But there was a part of you that needed to be reassured so badly. And he seemed to know.

He raised a brow and his own expression softened.

“Did you expect anything else?”

His coldness melted away whenever you were like this, entangled and breathless.

No matter how many times he said that it didn’t mean anything.

His eyes told a different story.

“No.” You whispered softly and rested your head on his chest. “No, of course not.”

[vrystalius]

Baby fever.

Gong Yoo has forbidden himself to fantasise about a peaceful family life. He does not deserve one, neither does he deserve you as as his partner.

Pairing: Recruiter/Gong Yoo x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

Summary: You’re noticing how your husband has been acting a little distant lately but he keeps acting like nothing is wrong. You decide to confront him.

Words: 1.1k

Genre: angsty fluff

Warning: Pregnancy description, spoilers for his backstory

He mainly married you to keep up his appearances to the public. That’s what he believed your marriage to be in the beginning anyway, but falling for you hit him like a truck Gong Yoo missed to spot while crossing the street. Now he can barely step outside the door without thinking about you, your safety, your cute face, your lips and whatever else there is to possibly think about a person.

Imagining you pregnant was a rather frequent fantasy he had. Not in a perverse way that could make one wonder about how sane he exactly is, but rather about how adorable you’d look when you waddle around the apartment, how it would feel to hold you from behind and lift your heavy belly for you, the sight of new stretch marks decorating your body more and more, listening to you baby’s heartbeat.

Even the unpleasant aspects of a pregnancy seem appealing to him for some reason. Holding your hair during a wave of morning sickness and emptying your stomach’s contents into the toilet, preparing a warm bath for your swollen feet, odd cravings where he can only pray for his child’s health while you inhale your exotic plate with a smile.

While future players of the game slam their dakji square against the one on the floor, Gong Yoo stood there with his arms behind his back, literally drowning in a baby fever. Only the sound of the square hitting the other and failing to flip over unpleasantly ripped him out of the trance, reminding him of his occupation that would make it much harder to have a simple, oblivious and lovely family life.

You noticed how much somber your husband has gotten lately. Sure, he was still affectionate as ever and never failed to bring flowers, chocolate or whatever else you desired, but you could see how something was clearly bothering him. Asking what is bothering him will only result in him using his charming recruiter persona to deflect your worries right back at you, bastard.

One evening, while your legs were draped over his thighs after making yourselves comfortable on the couch, empty take out boxes on the coffee table in front of you. You were the only one paying attention to the TV broadcast though.

Your husband’s fingers slowly traced invisible patters on your thigh while his eyes glossed over nothing.

“You’re so quiet lately. Did something happen at work?” Gong Yoo’s eyes slowly shifted to look at you, his hand coming to a stop on your thigh right above your knee. He leaned his head back against the couch cushion. “I’m just thinking a lot about you lately. You’re quite distracting, you know that?”

Again, he’s deflection your worry and question to turn it right back at you. Unamused, you slid your legs off his lap and lifted yourself from your comfortably lying position. You were clearly unamused and he could tell. A small sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment. “No, nothing happened at work. I’m really thinking about you a lot lately.”

“Then exactly are you thinking about then?” You noticed his eyes trying to shift away from you, anywhere else than to look into your eyes. Your hand gently took his into yours, your fingers interlocking with his. You watched him glance down at your two rings, the rings that symbolise marriage and partnership. He emitted a deeper sigh. “I’m thinking about our future together, I suppose.”

You cocked your head in confusion. “Kids. I’m thinking about kids.” Gong Yoo elaborated. “Our kids to be exact.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter as if you’re about to pull away. Instead, you pulled his hand towards yourself. “So… what do you think?” You mumbled, briefly running your fingers through his hair.

Your husband shrugged, his lips turning into a small frown. “I want them, don’t get me wrong, I just— I don’t know. I’m not sure if I…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you want them with me, if I would be a good father… My own father wasn’t the greatest and what if I’m going to be just like him, you know?”

Silence fell between you two, the TV serving as l white noise in the background. An endearing smile broke out on your face as you ran your knuckles over his surprisingly sweaty cheek. Opening up to you takes a toll put of him apparently. His eyes closed shut as you briefly admired his lashes fluttered against his skin. His whole face softened.

“So, firstly, I do want children with you and only you. Remember that.” The cold metal of your ring made Gong Yoo shiver under your touch. Your hand cupped his cheek as he slowly opened his eyes again. “Secondly, you’ll be a good father, someone yours never was.”

Your husband scoffed slightly as a larger smile began to break out on his face. It was a little funny to him how you answered him so honestly and kindly, not even knowing the full story between him and his father and how it ended.

Your words did warm his heart. The fantasy of a perfect life with you didn’t seem so taboo anymore, so distant and unreachable. It felt like it was just a moment away.

Gong Yoo leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your lips, his lips felt soft and gentle. His warm breath fanned your face as his hand slipped out of yours to cup your cheek and angle your face for his tongue to briefly slip between your lips. Pulling away, his forehead rested against yours as his eyes stared into yours.

“Do you mean that? Are you really sure?” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how nervous he really was. “I am as sure as I was when I married you, dear.”

Your husband leaned back in for another kiss, this one was much more brief, teasing almost. “Well would you… like to start trying? For a child I mean.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading!

As I am posting this I am around 2-3 hours away from arriving at the ski resort. Half of this was written while I was a little nauseous so apologies for any inconsistencies or mistakes as I was in and out of it. The other half was written while I listened to a mix of J-Pop, K-Pop, Hamilton musical, Rap, Odetari. My music taste is quite unique :,) Anyways, I’ll be posting again soon or tonight! It’s going to be either about Thanos or In-ho!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough!!

Take care or yourselves <3