#probably with more information than you wanted

[pretentious-blonde]

jealous much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best

warnings: 18+ this is smut, filth with feelings, depictions of sex, p in v, fingering, manhandling, steve being a cocky little shit, lots and lots of aftercare because how could i not???

a/n: to the anon(s) that told me they wanted steve to be a bit harsher, i gotchu <3 pt. 6 but can be read as a standalone!!

series masterlist

Steve’s bedroom was always comfortably cluttered—movie tickets scattered on the nightstand, a lone shirt draped over the desk chair, and a rumpled blanket that smelled faintly of his cologne. You loved it here. Loved being with him here. The two of you were sprawled across his bed, legs tangled, currently discussing the goings-on with the people in Hawkins. 

He always had a soft spot for scandal, unable to shake his love for idle gossip. He kept up with every whisper in the school hallways—a habit that only worsened once he gained access to the town’s personal archive of movie choices. 

Dangerous information for him to have, truly. 

“You should’ve seen what Keith has been checking out lately,” he said, propping himself up on his elbow, eyes bright. “Nothing but straight rom-coms. He thinks we don’t notice—‘cause, y’know, he does it on his own time—but Rob went snooping through the store’s computer system.”

“No way. Keith?” You snorted. “I thought he was into those art-house horror flicks or those silent German ones.”

“Right?” Steve agreed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “We’re putting money on him having a girlfriend. That would explain why he’s been giving us both more hours lately—guy’s gotta prioritise his love-life, you know?”

“Huh,” you mused, nudging his knee with yours. “So he finally snagged a girl?”

“That’s the theory,” he affirmed, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Now we just gotta figure out who it is. Or corner him into telling us.”

You giggled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Well, I’m sure that won’t take long. Keith has never been good at subtlety.”

“Kinda jealous he’s the one who arranges the schedule, though.” He hummed, shifting closer until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your hair. “Means I gotta argue with him if I want a full weekend off.”

“You poor thing,” you teased, tapping his chest. “I can always come hang out if you get stuck working. Keep you company.”

He brightened. “Yeah?”

“Totally,” you said smiling. “I don’t mind. I'm very entertaining.”

“Well, does that mean when I get a weekday off, I can come crash your work?” he asked, waggling his brows. “I look great in a tie.”

You eyed him skeptically, but there was no denying he’d look downright mouthwatering in a suit. All done up, weaving through your office like he owned the place—it made your insides curl.

He’d probably climb the ladder faster than you, effortlessly charming his way to the top. It was unfair how charismatic he could be, even without trying.

“I wish you could.” You groan, getting your mind out of the gutter. “It’d make the day go so much faster.”

"I’d be the perfect intern," he agreed, "I could grab the coffee for a change—plus,” a playful smile tugs at his lips as he gazes down at you, “I already know exactly how you like it."

You laughed, then shrugged. “Actually, you wouldn’t have to run for coffee now. We got a new hire last week—Ryan, I think his name is? He’s younger, maybe by a year or so, but super eager. I’ve been showing him around, finally getting some of the stress off my plate.”

His expression changed with a touch of curiosity or perhaps just a pang of protectiveness—but it settled quickly into genuine affection. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. 

“You looking out for him, angel?”

“Yeah—well, I mean—” A flush crept up your cheeks. “I would’ve liked if someone had done that for me when I started, you know? Don’t want him to feel overwhelmed by everything.”

He almost melted as those words left your lips, loving the flustered look on your face when he praised you.

God, you’re too sweet for your own good sometimes.

You snuggled closer and let out a yawn, feeling his arm tighten around you in a gentle hug as you hid your face in his chest.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat as he glanced at the clock on his desk. “Come on sleepyhead. You’ve got an early morning, gotta get some rest."

You groaned dramatically. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Hey,” he offered with a warm smile, “want me to drive you? I’ve got tomorrow off so it’s really no trouble.”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shook your head tiredly. “Have a lie-in for once, you deserve it. Besides, you’re picking me up after work anyway, right?”

A lazy, content grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you—slow and sweet. “Come on, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Steve insisted on seeing you off that morning, even when you tried to do the nice thing and let him sleep in. 

He woke up with you anyway. It baffled you how he could sleep through his own alarm but miraculously rise at the first buzz of yours. Even when you tried to turn it off and sneakily creep around his room without rousing him, your efforts were futile. 

He followed you downstairs and sipped the coffee he brewed for you both at the kitchen counter, watching while you tugged on your office blazer, making sure your hair was just right in the reflection of the hall mirror. 

It made him grin stupidly, watching you hustle around in your formal attire—his career girl. 

He couldn’t help himself. He’d pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead at his doorstep before you left, telling you to “knock ‘em dead.” Which earned him a huff from you. 

He was far too corny in the morning for your liking. 

Only when your car was out of sight did he head back inside, now all glum that he had to entertain himself for the rest of the day.

He spent his time alone doing errands—laundry, a quick trip to the grocery store, all while counting down the hours till he could swing by your office.

It wasn’t pathetic, but he’d be the first to admit he was maybe a little too eager. Then again, he’d found his person, and he figured it wasn’t a crime to want every spare minute with you.

When the time finally came, he pulled up outside the Hawkins Post, scanning the pavement for your familiar silhouette. 

He spotted you laughing with someone—the new hire, must be, he deduced as he took in the guy’s slightly younger appearance and the way he stood just a bit too close to you for his liking. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he examined him further. 

Great. Of course he’s hot.

You glanced up just then, beaming at the sight of the familiar BMW. After a quick word to your coworker—who, he noted—looked decidedly unhappy as he caught Steve’s eye.

You bounded over to the passenger seat as he gave the guy a little wave, more smug than polite, and felt a twist of satisfaction when the guy’s scowl deepened.

You slid into the seat, barely getting the door shut before he leaned in over the console to kiss you—deep and warm, with a hint of urgency that made your pulse skip. You let out a surprised hum but quickly relaxed into it, hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

“What was that for?” You pulled back, blinking at him.

He shrugged, eyes flicking past you to the figure still hovering on the pavement. 

“Nothing,” he said, casual as can be. “Just missed you, that’s all.” 

He caught your colleague staring and resisted the urge to smirk openly.

Gotcha.

You huffed a playful laugh, still a little breathless. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked, turning the key in the ignition. You nodded, and he eased the car into the street. “Oh—there are M&Ms in the glove box. Grabbed 'em for you.” He added, remembering picking them up at the store earlier. Knowing you’d appreciate it. 

“Ugh, you’re the best, you know that?” you said, popping open the compartment and grabbing the bag, eagerly tearing through the plastic.

He glanced sideways, a small, satisfied grin tugging at his lips. Holding out his hand, he waited as you handed him a few—only fair, after all.

Because, yeah, he is the best.

Damn right.

And he’s glad you think so too. 

Dinner had wrapped up at your flat, the remnants of takeaway containers still on the coffee table, but neither of you paid them much mind. You were curled up with him on the couch, your legs draped over his lap as you recounted every last detail of your day—he hung onto each word like it was the most important news in the world. 

Well, more important to him than the news you printed, anyway. 

“And,” you said, voice cracking with excitement, “they’re finally letting me write my own story! The whole thing, just me.”

His grin was instant, radiant enough to outshine the lamp in the corner. Pure happiness poured from him as he watched you speak, your joy lighting up the room.

There wasn’t a trace of resentment—just pride, just excitement, just you. 

He was every bit as thrilled as you were, because he knew how hard you’d worked to get here. And now, seeing it all finally pay off, he couldn’t have been prouder of you.

“That’s incredible, honey,” he said truthfully. “Seriously, can’t wait to read it. What’s it gonna be about?”

You shrugged, flustered and thrilled all at once. “I have so many ideas—I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, whatever you choose, I’m first in line for a sneak peek.” He draped an arm behind you on the couch, giving you a playful nudge. “You gonna let me see the first draft?”

“Nope.” You snorted. “You have to wait until it’s printed, just like everyone else. No boyfriend privileges here.”

“What?” He let out a mock-offended huff. “I’m supposed to wait for the issue like the rest of town? Come on you gotta give me, like, a preview or something.”

“Alright, alright,” you conceded, stifling a laugh at his dramatic pout. “Let me get changed first, and then maybe we can brainstorm together, okay?”

He leaned back, playful grin returning. “But I like the corporate look.”

“Yeah, well, now you get the pajama look,” you countered, sticking your tongue out as you got up.

He watched you walk off, fondness swelling in his chest. He’d never get tired of that view—hair done up from a day at the office, blouse slightly rumpled from a long day’s work. 

You disappeared into your bedroom, leaving him alone on the couch. He let out a contented sigh, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

With a lazy flick of the remote, he turned up the volume on the TV, barely sparing it a glance. What you wore didn’t matter to him—truth be told, he loved you just as much in cosy attire as in your best dressed-up look.

Comfort suited you, and therefore suited him just fine.

Not even a minute after your departure, the phone rang—a jarring, tinny sound that made him glance over his shoulder. It only rang twice before he heard your cheerful voice answer in the bedroom. 

His ears perked up. He couldn’t help it—he was nosey.

Sue him. 

Muting the TV, he angled his head to listen, as your muffled giggle drifted through the space. 

“No, seriously, don’t worry about it,” you said. “He doesn’t need it until Monday—promise.”

He rose from the couch, moving quietly toward your slightly ajar door. He caught a glimpse of you standing by your chest of drawers, one hand on your hip, the other clutching the receiver. He couldn’t quite make out every expression with your back turned, but your tone was friendly, warm, comfortable. 

An unwelcome pang of jealousy flared in his chest, though he quickly reminded himself that you love him, you’ve talked about this, he trusts you. 

Still, he couldn’t resist sidling closer.

“Yeah, don’t listen to what he said,” you continued, your tone soothing. “He’s all talk, trust me.”

He inched into the room, sliding his arms around your waist from behind and nuzzling his face against your neck. Your skin was still warm and you let out a tiny squeak of surprise, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him.

He inched down to whisper in your free ear, low and soft. 

“Who is it?”

Turning to him, you quickly covered the receiver with your palm. “Ryan,” you mouthed.

Ryan. Right. Great. 

He rolled his eyes a little, then brushed a slow kiss on the side of your neck. 

“Call him tomorrow, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice playful but filled with an undercurrent of impatience. 

You already spent the whole day with the guy, and now he's calling you? Even when he saw him pick you up? It didn’t take a genius to figure out you had other plans, and the thought nudged at him uncomfortably. 

You shook your head in exasperation, though you were smiling. He continued to nuzzle you, pressing you gently forward until your back arched at the contact. 

“Leave work at the door,” he teased, fingers pressing slightly into your waist.

You exhaled a soft laugh and brought the phone back to your ear. “Hey, Ryan? I’ll, uh, I’ll just swing by the office a bit earlier tomorrow if you need anything else, okay? … Yeah, no worries, meet you outside. Bye.”

You placed the handset back in the cradle and turned fully to face your boyfriend, still in your work clothes, not yet changed.

Crossing your arms, you fixed him with a look, and he couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating the playful scolding coming his way. But all he could focus on was you—standing there in your blouse and slacks, looking far too damn sweet for him to take even the slightest bit seriously.

“Feeling needy, huh?” you asked, tilting your head.

He let out an incredulous huff, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. 

“What? Couldn’t he have waited till tomorrow? I mean… come on. He could have talked to you anytime today.”

You shrugged. “I did tell him he could call if he had any questions.”

He snorted, stepping closer, fingers trailing gently along your waist. 

“Questions, huh?”

“Questions,” you confirmed, heart skipping a beat at the intent look in his eyes.

His touch lingered, a tiny spark of possessiveness flickering behind his eyes. Then the realisation seemed to strike. You saw it—the slight tightening of his jaw, the faint furrow between his brows. It made you bite your cheek to stop from letting a giggle slip. 

“Wait a second,” you said, holding back a smile. “Steve, are you… are you jealous?”

“What? No.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Absolutely not.”

“You so are,” you pressed, delighting in the way his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

“Sweetheart,” he warned, voice dipping lower, “I’m not.”

You only giggled, emboldened by the rosy flush creeping into his cheeks, wanting to push his buttons just a little. 

“Aw, you think I’d ever pick him over you?”

Something sparked in his eyes, a confident glint that made your stomach flutter. 

“Oh, honey,” he purred, “I know you wouldn’t pick him over me.”

You couldn’t resist teasing him one step further.

“Oh, well…” you sighed, letting the words trail with a mischievous lilt, “I’m not quite sure. I mean, he knows my coffee order too, you know.”

The air shifted—his hand slid up your torso in one smooth motion, fingertips barely brushing the exposed skin of your collarbone before settling at the base of your throat. 

His palm rested there, thumb gently grazing your quickening heartbeat as he angled your chin up to face him.

“You wanna finish that thought, sweetheart?” he murmured, voice low enough to send a tremor through you.

You swallowed, a sudden dryness in your throat. He smirked, clearly relishing your hesitation. 

“Didn’t think so,” he whispered, brushing his lips fleetingly against the corner of your mouth before pulling back.

Your heart pounded, body already hyper-aware of each place he touched you. You wondered if he could feel the way your pulse had sped up beneath his hand—because from the triumphant gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew precisely what kind of effect he had on you.

When his fingers trailed beneath your collar again, you shivered, and the reaction only seemed to spur him on. 

“Think I’m jealous, baby?” His mouth hovered just above yours, teasing, refusing to close the distance.

When you leaned in, he pushed back just enough to make you wait, to make you listen. 

"Need me to show you how well I take care of you?” His other palm slid against your lower back, holding you flush against him. “Can’t have you forgetting, can we?"

The way he was looking at you, like he dared you to argue.

His eyes were locked on yours, hungry and unapologetically smug, as he backed you against the counter. Waiting for the subtle nod of your head to tell him to continue. 

His fingers fiddled with the button of your trousers, and you could practically feel his heart racing in sync with your own.

“H-haven’t forgotten,” you managed to stutter out, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He cocked a brow as he paused his motions, leaning in until his breath fanned over your lips. 

“You sure? The way you were talking—almost like you need a reminder.” A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his mouth. “And you know how much I love proving my point.”

You swallowed hard. You did know—Steve was stubborn as hell, and once he made up his mind, there was no talking him down. 

You’d learned that the very first time you hung out with him—he spent a whole hour building you that damned bookshelf that was wedged in the corner of your living room, refusing to even let you help him carry it up the stairs. All in an effort to prove himself to you.

And by the way he was acting, he was determined to prove himself again. 

“Say the word, baby, and I’ll stop.” He tells you earnestly, as his brown eyes search your face. 

He would stop in an instant if you told him to, but the way you're looking at him tells him you won’t. Something tells him that you want him to show you how good he can make you feel.

And Steve? 

Well, Steve never backed down from a challenge. 

You let out a shaky exhale, no response forming except the pleading expression you're giving him. A small, triumphant noise rumbled in his throat. Your slacks and underwear hit the floor, and in one swift motion, he coaxed you against the side of the counter, broad hands splaying over your hips.

He brushed his hand against you slowly, cautiously, fingers gliding against your core and making your knees threaten to buckle.

“Already?” His tone was low, teasing, right at your ear as his fingers entered you with a lewd, wet sound. “You’re shaking, baby. Maybe I have been neglecting you.”

“Please,” you whimpered after a moment, overwhelmed by how slow and teasing he was moving—he wasn’t normally quite so unhurried with the foreplay.

Steve usually never made you beg for anything. 

He let out a soft chuckle, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to the side of your neck. Clearly, he was enjoying this—relishing the way your hands pawed at his shoulders, desperate, pleading for more. For him to stop playing and just give in.

“Shhh, I’ll take care of you, alright?” His fingers moved with agonising precision. “So sensitive—so sweet for me”

Your breathing stuttered; the sensations bloomed hot and electric with every brush of his fingers. But his mouth kept going, sliding into that cocky territory he owned so well. 

“Bet he wouldn’t even know where to start with you,” he murmured, voice laced with pride. "Wouldn’t even know how fucking beautiful you sound when you—" his thumb pressed hard against your clit, dragging a desperate, wrecked moan from your lips, “—fuck yourself on my fingers.”

You could tell he was on a roll, completely caught up in the moment, but you mustered the courage to speak anyway.

Feeling bold, you forced a small smirk, even as your body threatened to betray you. You’d never seen him this pent up before—this utterly consumed—and the sheer thrill of it sent a sharp, electric spark through you.

Curiosity burned—just how far could you push him?

“O-oh, I don’t know—” you managed to choke out, stepping on dangerous territory. “He’s a keen learner…”

So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?

Everything stopped—his fingers, his breath, the push of his body against yours. He stilled, letting a harsh exhale flare his nostrils. 

Then a dark, knowing laugh bubbled out of him as he lifted his head to look at you—really look at you. You caught a glimpse of his determined face, before all composure snapped. 

Now he really had something to prove.

“Fuck, angel,” he groaned, voice taking on a frustrated edge. “You just don’t know when to stop—do you?”

Before you could react, he flipped you around and pushed your hips down against the dresser with a firm grip. The wood pressed into your stomach, your palms splayed on either side as he molded himself to your back.

He cupped your jaw from behind and you gasped at the harshness of his grip, every nerve alive. His teeth found your shoulder, biting just enough to blur the line between pleasure and pain.

You let out a sharp cry, and he swallowed it with a low groan. Running his tongue against the dull ache as a gentle apology. 

“One of these days," he muttered, "that smart mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble—” you could feel his breath, hot and ragged, “—lucky for you, I’m the one who gets to teach it a lesson.”

His words send shivers across your skin and you tried to twist in his grip. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” he chided as you tried to squirm, pressing against you back as he stilled your movements. “Stay.”

He placed one strong palm between your shoulder blades, guiding you lower, til your chest made contact with the wooden surface. Keeping you where he wanted you.

He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t forcing—just holding you there, making sure you felt him, making sure you knew exactly how this was going to go.

Your legs stumbled as you adjusted to the position, and he just laughed, sliding his fingers inside you once more, coaxing the most desperate little noises from your lips.

“Say my name, angel,” he demanded, that infuriating confidence dripping from every syllable.

“S-Steve,” you whimpered, voice barely recognisable to your own ears.

“Good,” he praised, dipping his head to kiss along your shoulder, fingers hitting that sweet spot inside that he knew drives you wild. “Want it to be the only thing in your head, okay?”

You moaned out his name once more, and he hummed with approval. 

“That’s right." He cooed. "You're a fast learner, baby.”

He pulled away momentarily and you whined at the loss of contact, until you heard the metallic rasp of his zipper. He was right back against you, pressing his length along you with a low moan.

"You feel that?"  he murmured, voice thick with need as he pressed against you, rolling his hips in a slow, deliberate grind. The friction sent sparks through your core, pulling a soft gasp from your lips. His grip tightened, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. "You're soaked, sweetheart."

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t wait. He needed to prove it to you, needed you to understand just how much he could give you. Just how much he deserved you. 

You tried to speak, but your voice came out ragged. Then, mercifully, he pushed inside—slow enough to let you feel every inch. The stretch pulled a drawn-out, trembling whine from your chest.

“Ah, fuck—.” His own voice cracked, hips snapping forward as though he couldn’t possibly wait another second. “That’s it—see how good that feels?—pussy was made for me. Ain't that right, angel?”

You only mewled in response as he settled into a driving rhythm, each thrust pushing you into the surface, bullying his cock deeper and deeper inside.

He wrapped a hand against the back of your neck, keeping you pinned where he could use you, pressing hot kisses along your shoulders when you cried out. It was music to his ears as he continued his relentless pace.

Normally he was gentler, but now, he was done holding back. The litany pouring from his mouth was shameless, full of desire and unfiltered possessiveness.

“Should’ve kept him on that damn phone—” he rasped against your neck, each word punctuated by a thrust. “Should’ve made him listen to how you sound—‘cause that’s the closest he’s ever gonna get to having you like this—”

Your walls tightened around him as his words poured over you, and he noticed—of course he noticed. He drank in every tremor, every flutter of your pussy, letting out a breathless laugh tinged with disbelief as he felt you squeeze him deeper at his teasing remarks.

"You like that?—really?" He let out an amused chuckle at the new information. “Shit—never knew how filthy you were, baby.” 

The way you gripped his length, pulling him deeper, the sinful sounds spilling from your lips—he knew he was giving you both. Worship and destruction. 

And fuck, you loved it.

You dragged your nails across the dresser’s surface, searching for an anchor in the storm of sensation. His hand slid over yours, fingers lacing as he drove into you, relentless.

“Too fucking bad he’s never gonna see how pretty you look when you're fucked dumb,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the side of your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "That's just for me."

You felt your composure slipping, your body teetering on the edge. Your head rolled to the side, a broken string of words escaping.

“Steve, please—” spilled from your lips, but you weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you upright just enough so he could whisper directly into your ear. The pain was delicious as you arched against him, lungs gasping for air as he continued to spill every dirty thought he had.

"It's alright sweetheart—I’ll give you what you need. Just look at you—can’t even think straight." A soft, desperate moan tore from your throat as his mouth continued to run. "Just falling apart on my cock, letting me fuck every last thought out of that pretty head of yours."

His pace quickened, your body overwhelmed with the slide of him inside your walls, the heat of his skin, the possessive timbre in every word he rasped into your ear.

"But you know what you will remember?" he purred, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "Every time you see him, you’ll remember how I had you bent in half, screaming my name—not his." He let you fall back onto the dresser, firm grip returning to your shoulder. "I want this burned into you, baby. So every fucking time you even look at him, all you can think about is me stretching you open—ruining you for anyone else."

Fuck, you knew Steve was loose-lipped in bed, but this was something else entirely. 

He wasn’t making love to you—he was fucking you. Hard. Rough. Saying whatever filthy thing came to mind without a second thought. 

You wished you could throw back a sly quip, but at this pace? You could barely breathe, let alone speak. 

Not that it would matter—he wouldn’t give you the chance.

Your moans rose in pitch, matching the mounting tension in your core, and he groaned, voice unraveling into something so heady it almost vibrated through you.

"I—fuck—I want you feeling me tomorrow, sweetheart—want every step you take to remind you exactly what’s waiting for you when you come home." He thrust sharply, greeted with the cry that tore from your lips. "‘Cause, baby, I’ve got no problem bending you over like this again and again—’til the lesson sticks—"

That final promise was all you needed—you came hard, a wave of ecstasy rolling through you as your body clenched around him. Your cry echoed in the small space, and you felt his grip falter as he groaned your name, riding the crest of your climax.

“Fuck, baby—that’s it,” he choked out, thrusts turning erratic. “So good for me, taking me so—”

Then he followed you over the edge, hips snapping one last time before his body seized. You felt his breath come in ragged pants against your neck, his chest pressed to your back. Every muscle in him went taut, then slack, as he let out a deep, guttural moan of satisfaction.

Your name fell from his lips in a trembling exhale, and for a moment, neither of you moved—both lost in the aftermath, hearts hammering in sync.

He held you for a beat longer, both of you still catching your breath. Your body trembled against the wood, and as he finally pulled out, he stayed close—almost reluctant to let you go.

But as he pulled away brushing a knuckle over your spine, guilt crept into his eyes the moment he took in your shaky form.

“Ah—shit” he murmured, voice low. “Hey, sweetheart, you with me?”

You nodded weakly, turning your head and giving him the smallest smile of reassurance, but he still frowned in concern. Maybe he'd gone overboard.

“Yeah… all right. Can you stand?”

“I—I think so,” you managed breathily.

“Okay,” he whispered, guiding you upright with one gentle arm around your waist. Once he was sure you weren’t going to topple over, he bent down to scoop up your trousers and set them aside. You’d probably complain if they got creased—more creased than they were. Though, that wasn’t his number one priority right now. 

You noticed the way his forehead furrowed in worry as he led you to the bed, helping you settle against the duvet. He slid in behind you, propping himself against the headboard so you could rest in his lap.

Your hands trembled a bit from aftershocks—adrenaline still coursing through your veins. He felt it, too, and his anxious expression only deepened.

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

“Hey, angel?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as he sought your eyes. “Can you look at me for a sec?”

You tilted your head back to meet his worried gaze, your cheeks still flushed and eyes glazed with the rush of it all. His own eyes flickered over your messy hair, the light smudges of your makeup, and your rumpled work shirt. Guilt pinched at his features.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His words tumbled out in a rush. “I’m sorry if I got carried away. I just—just got caught up in everything, and you—”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting a hand to cover his mouth gently. 

God, he’s adorable when he’s fussing over you. 

“Steve,” you said softly, watching him go silent. “You didn’t hurt me. I promise.”

He still looked unconvinced. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I'm not,” you replied, smoothing your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m really, really good. Better than good.”

He cupped your face gently, thumb brushing soft circles into your cheek, eyes flicking between yours as if searching for any sign of discomfort.

“Didn’t mean to be so rough,” he murmured, voice laced with concern. "Should've been more gentle with you, angel."

You were still quivering in his lap, body still sensitive. He was torn between holding you tighter against him, or letting you breathe.

You leaned forward after sensing his hesitation, brushing a soft kiss to his jaw, you make the decision for him.

“I loved it." You tell him truthfully. "I love you.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, hands finding your hips and holding you there. His warmth seeped into you through the fabric of your rumpled work shirt.

You loved him.

No matter how many times the words left your lips, it still made his chest ache.

"Love you too," he murmurs, eyes avoiding yours as they dart to his lap. "Just... don't want you thinking I, like, lost control or something." He looks up at you sheepishly. "Never want to hurt you."

“I know that.” You rested your palm against his jaw, the intimacy of the moment made your heart flutter. “I trust you. And if it was too much, I’d tell you.”

He stared at you for a moment, brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

A long exhale left him, relief slumping his shoulders. 

“Thank God.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead gently against yours.

“But… you’re probably right.” You managed a playful smile as his eyes snapped to yours. “I’m definitely going to feel it tomorrow.”

A rosy flush bloomed across his face, and he buried it against your neck with a half-embarrassed groan. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You gave a teasing shrug, ignoring the dull ache that made itself known the second you moved your hips. “You might’ve had a point, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, lifting his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A teasing grin curled your lips. “You are kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He winced exaggeratedly, making you laugh. “You’ll give me a complex or something.”

You laughed again, and he couldn’t help smiling back, brushing his nose against your cheek in a moment of affection.

“But, I mean, are you feeling jealous?” You asked him with full seriousness. “Because if you are, you can talk to me about it.”

He swallowed, his grip loosening slightly as his eyes softened, realisation settling deep in his chest.

You cared. So much. He thought about it for a brief moment—was he really jealous?

But then he looked at you, all concerned in his arms. The way you gazed at him, unwavering and sure, the way you had trusted him completely not five minutes ago, letting him take control, letting him have you.

It was all the answer he needed.

There was no room for doubt, no reason for insecurity. You were his—entirely his—and he knew it.

“No,” he finally said, voice gentle. “’M not jealous. Not really. I just—I don't know—wanted to make my girl feel good.” His lips quirked up in a small, sheepish grin. “And I guess I wanted to remind you who you’ve got waiting when you clock out.”

You leaned up to plant a reassuring kiss on his jaw. “Well, message received,” you teased, drawing a chuckle from him.

Steve glanced down at your blouse, still haphazardly half-done-up, and your bare legs still shaking. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? I kinda distracted you from changing.”

“You definitely did.” You smile softly as he gets up, offering you his hand to stand.

“C’mon, let’s get a bath running.” He tells you as he cocks his head towards the door.

He guides you to the bathroom, flicking on the light and starting the taps. As water rushed into the tub, he helped you out of your disheveled work shirt, eyes flicking appreciatively across your skin. Gently, he traced a thumb over a reddening mark on your neck where he’d bitten down. A pang of guilt made his eyes tighten.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered, pressing a featherlight kiss over the mark. “Got carried away.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting a grin. “Hey, you got what you wanted, didn’t you? Everyone to know I’m yours?”

“Yeah,” a bashful smile tugged at his lips. “I did.”

Once the bath was ready, you both climbed in. The warm water soothed the lingering tension in your muscles, and you leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms draped loosely around your middle, fingers stroking lazy shapes over your skin.

“So,” he spoke up after a moment, lips brushing your ear.  “you wanna brainstorm those ideas for your article now, Miss Journalist?”

You chuckled, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Oh, now you’re interested in my writing process?”

“Course I am.” He gave a soft laugh, tightening his hold on you. “I’m always interested in whatever you’ve got going on. You know that.”

“Alright,” you teased, “I have a few pitches… maybe a feature on that new charity coffee place that’s opening up on Maple Street? Or this local teacher doing after-school science programs? I’m torn—so many good leads.”

Steve made an encouraging noise. “I like the teacher one,” he mused, brow furrowing in real consideration. “I mean, c’mon, that sounds like it’d be really feel-good for the paper. Everyone loves seeing that kinda community stuff.”

“You think so?” You felt a wave of affection swell through you at how genuine he was.

“Yeah. It’s definitely the kind of story that’ll get people talking in a good way.” He paused, a grin curling his lips. “But I gotta say… I also love coffee.”

“We’ll see which one the editor likes.” You giggle.

He helped you out of the tub once the water began to cool, wrapping a towel around his waist before carefully bundling you in another. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, then led you back to the bedroom, flicking off the overhead light so you were left in a peaceful glow from the bedside lamp.

You slipped into a soft tee and lounge shorts as he grabbed his own pyjamas from your chest of drawers, blushing at what transpired on it previously. He would never look at it the same way again.

You curled up against him in the bed—his arms around you made everything feel warm and safe.

“What time do you have to be at work tomorrow?” you mumbled against his chest.

“Not ’til afternoon,” he said, carding his fingers through your hair.

A content sigh escaped you, eyes fluttering shut. “Nice for some, I guess.”

“But,” he continued, clearing his throat pointedly, “I’m definitely dropping you off tomorrow.”

Your brow creased, and you glanced up at him with a sleepy frown. 

“Why?”

He smirked, his hand coming to rest gently on your hip. “Because… you said you were meeting him earlier, right? The new guy?” He leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “I wanna see the look on your face when you see him—see if you remember exactly what we did tonight.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you smacked his chest lightly. “Steve!”

“What?” He chuckled, utterly delighted, pressing a mischievous kiss to your forehead. “I’m curious.”

You huffed in mock-annoyance but couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re incorrigible.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he buried his nose in your hair. “That’s me,” he murmured, voice going soft again as he held you closer.

[emptymanuscript]

I suspect the way to get things in front of right wing eyes is probably a violation of the tumblr terms of service. They need tags that those who support the right wing wants to look at. Like gun control or sleepy joe or christian faith. I'm sure there are a ton I simply don't know in the same way they probably don't know tags I watch for. But without something promising them that a post is something they are interested in - and again, I'm pretty sure it is against the tumblr tos to simply mistag things that aren't referenced in order to get clicks - you have to be mutuals with them to pass things along.

Tumblr is generally built to primarily connect with people you share interests with rather than any other organizing principle. The secondary organization is purely organic, someone follows someone for whatever reason and they're permanently linked but that's usually preceded by some shared interest to make the initial connection unless the people know each other from OFF tumblr. Like, I followed my friends (who have now left the site) from Live Journal but then picked up all my mutuals from posts that they posted that I was interested in.

But now everyone knows which tags likely to provoke a fight and go on to block them.

Like, I have Biden blocked as a tag. That has nothing to do with disliking Biden and everything to do with knowing that something tagged Biden will likely be divisive and make it a much less zen experience. Because I've blocked "Biden" chances are high I'll never even see the tag "Sleepy Joe" because it is probably accompanying Biden. Which means I'm simply not seeing the other side of the political spectrum there and don't know their keywords because of it. I expect it is much the same on their side. Anything that they expect will give them an unpleasant experience is likely hidden behind a block AND filtered by a lack of mutuals who are going to challenge them. Because wanting to ENJOY the social media experience is a general desire and having your beliefs challenged and belittled is rarely enjoyable. It's the essential problem of getting news from social media instead of sites devoted to news.

I'm on Fark. The Fark comment section is nowhere near as pleasant and sociable as Tumblr because we're all forced to deal with the same stories. They are as they are. And therefore it is on the commenters to argue for their point of view because they can't rely on it being the general trend of opinion like we can with our mutuals. So there is a lot more yelling and insults, exactly what we're avoiding. And when that wasn't enough, we generally flock toward different news sites. Think about how often you'll see Fox news linked to here. It's rare BECAUSE everyone along this thread of communication is unlikely to be right wing because of the negative take on the result of right wing action.

Which just makes it all come full circle. Social Media is based around information flowing across specific types of connections. This inevitably creates echo chambers because we will move toward the connections we favor and away from the connections we do not favor. While some people really do enjoy arguments and challenges to the point they seek them out, that is the statistical minority. Which means if you WANT to reach people you naturally don't connect with, you have to cheat against the reasons you don't connect.

Gun control, for instance, actually lead to my most commented on post. Because I talked about Gun Control in relation to a particular tragedy but one of the people who did like arguing and challenging follows the Gun Control tag specifically to look for people who want Gun Control in order to argue against it with them. He, being very right wing, then carried our interaction across his dash, interconnecting my fairly left wing opinions into his chain of connections where everyone piled on while my reply to him carried over to all of my connections. That's how to short circuit it.

BUT

The more we are dominated by the echo chamber and the more we can't find any common ground to agree on, the less people are sitting on tags that they know will cause controversy because even for them, it's often only fun in bursts. They don't want it all the time. So even that is becoming more transitory and less connective.

So, back again to cheating. We love saying Tumblr has no algorithm but it is bullshit. It has the same algorithm that "Reality TV" has. Human behavior is chaotic but it is fairly predictable in general trendlines. I can't predict what a specific unknown YOU will do next. But I can assign a statistical likelihood on a majority behavior. Give a mass population something to enjoy and they will shy away from the parts that hurt and favor engaging with the parts that feel good. Set up the right initial situation and you can't predict EXACTLY what will happen but you can reasonably expect that it will conform to the normal trends of human behavior.

That's what you have to break. If you want to get something that people are likely to NOT want to engage with, then you have to break the natural human algorithm of connection. You have to cloak it in something that they are likely to SEEK engagement with. Even neutral isn't enough. Because they are protected by the design decisions made by Tumblr which was meant to get people to connect over shared interests. Neutral means it isn't interesting. It just passes into the ether because it won't connect to anything but those who are already in connection with you. It has to be POSITIVELY interesting in the way that will get people to be interested before they fully engage with the content and realize that it is meant to be uncomfortable for them which they avoid.

Which does generally reduce the strategy to manipulation and lies. You have to engage more positive interest than their negative interest has already put up as a barrier and then enough additional positive interest that is going to get them to engage enough to get the message.

And you probably only get one chance. Maybe two if you get a partial success.

For the same reason that Trans-Exclusionary Radical Feminists really probably only get one chance to engage directly with the account of a Trans person. Because as soon the Trans person realizes that the TERF is posting in bad faith to make them uncomfortable and unwelcome, they simply block the TERF as an account, not merely blocking the posting identity but any other screen names attached to the same account. Which in turn makes it increasingly expensive in effort to cross the boundary.

So each tag you put a message across will result in increasing blocks. Until getting the attention of people who don't want to give you their attention becomes the majority of your activity.

At which point this becomes an evaluation. How important is the message to get across given that you will probably nerf your ability to get messages across in the future in reaction.

In an ideal world, this information would make everyone who sees it reconsider their support for DOGE.

But we don't live there.

Instead we're living in the world where Musk's interns, not even political appointees, jacking into the treasury department records of EVERYONE wasn't enough to turn the opinions of the people you're trying to reach.

So think of this as a nuclear option. You don't start with it. You escalate to it.

Research what tags seem to engage people who support DOGE. Get a list.

Wait for something that does MORE than incense you. Wait for something that is more than merely informative. Wait for the thing that goes COUNTER to what the people reading one of those tags believe to an outrageous amount. Wait for what will make them fly into a rage because it is an utter betrayal. :/ You probably won't have to wait that long, actually.

Then, when you have something that will incense THEM - not you, you're already on the other side, it's all about them - cheat against the algorithm and label it what will get in front of their eyes even though it shouldn't.

After that, cross out that tag because you've likely lost the use of it.

Wait for the next opportunity.

While you're waiting, share the tag you used and what responses you got so other people know what worked and what didn't. Essentially, you're recruiting for a Psyop. Because you are working an anti-psyop. And you will need allies to speak that message into the spaces you burn. Let allies give a different take and boost the signal of the alternate point of view. The more you can get the merrier. Because you want to flood it. You want to make it so that tag becomes a message, understanding that each individual post within the overarching message will burn an account as people in the tag will just block you until they finally stop following the tag. At which point everyone will have to move down the list.

It's also probably more effective if people rotate who sends messages.

Moderators and staff will probably ignore a single use of this trick. If you become a regular, you're going to get banned. So, get a LOT of allies and understand that this is going to be hard work. It's going to be HOW you and your allies are fighting this war and there will be attrition.

At least that's my guess.

I can't honestly claim to know anything about anything. Psyops isn't my field.

So, you know, your mileage may vary. And you'll notice I'm not doing it. I haven't tagged this with any of my suggestions. So also buyer beware and all that. I'm probably condescending, too, while I'm at it. Mostly think of this as something to noodle in order to prompt your own thinking.

I, myself, am giving up. This is the world they wanted. I don't buy that they were ignorant. So I have no interest in informing them because I don't see the use. I just can't resist an opportunity to write an essay. Don't know why. Probably the drugs I'm on.

Good luck.

This will never make it in front of right-wing eyes. The government is a mystery of spending that can not be understood!

And it’s all because of trans people!

Or immigrants!

Whatever the enemy of the week is… enemy of the weak? 🤔

[pl0tty]

Jojo’s ABC’s of Drarry fic: a rec list of Drarry fics I love, sorted in alphabetical order!

26 fics ♡ 26 authors ♡ a good mix of smut, fluff, angst and plot ♡ enjoy!!

A — All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (E, 29.4k)

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases.

Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

B — Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose (E, 30k words)

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry's right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

C — Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24.6k words)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

D — Dwelling by aideomai (E, 83.3k words)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

E — Embers by @shiftylinguini (E, 41.2k words)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

F — freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17.1k words)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy?

If only Draco would let him count the ways.

(Sometimes, a happily-ever-after takes a bit longer than you expect.)

G — Going Postal (A 125-Page Comic) by dustmouth (T)

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

H — Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (T, 93.3k words)

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

I — I Do Not Love You by @writandromance (E, 228.2k words)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love.

A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

J — Je te reverrai by @soliblomst (E, 16.1k words)

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter.

When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail.

In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

K — Keep your hands on me by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 21.4k words)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

L — Lusimeles by orphan_account (E, 23.2k words)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work.

“But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

M — More Than That by joosetta (E, 10.9k words)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

N — No One Ever Told Me by @slightweasel (M, 25.7k words)

Harry marries Draco to get him out of Azkaban.

Things get weird. And confusing. And then weird some more.

O — Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46.1k words)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

P — Probationary Action by @toomuchplor (E, 63.3k words)

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

Q — Quickie by @greaseonmymouth (E, 11.8k words)

Harry's 8th year is going okay: he's got a girlfriend, the future is far away, and he has no choices to make. And then Malfoy starts sending him dick pics.

R — Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75.3 words)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

S — Slithering by @astolat (E, 27.3k words)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

T — Tandem by @fastbrother (M, 90.8k words)

Harry and Draco meet by accident six years after the war. Harry's an Auror with a drinking problem and Draco's a broke student. Things don't work out well. Six years after that, Draco joins the British Auror Office as a Potioneer.

U — Untouched by @stratigraphywrites (E, 11.2k words)

"The magic demands a sacrifice," Malfoy said. "What kind of sacrifice?" Malfoy's mouth twisted grimly. "A virgin." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Killing one?" "No, of course not, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "Don't be macabre. Fucking one." Malfoy exhaled with bitter disappointment. "Fuck. Rules us out." Harry took a deep breath. His face felt hotter than ever. "It doesn't, actually."

Harry's had some terrible birthdays in his life. But this one - trapped in a cave with Draco Malfoy, and only one way out - has to take the cake.

V — Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by @vukovich (E, 50k words)

Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.

But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?

Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.

Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.

God save the Ministry.

W — What’s Mine is Yours by @fluxweeed (E, 17k words)

Harry loses something important. Malfoy helps him get it back.

X — Ex Nihilo (And Other Feats of An Untrained Veela) by Kandakicksass (E, 129k words)

Ever since returning to Hogwarts, Harry has had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, who exists at the bottom of the social ladder and is just trying to survive their "eighth year."

One veela presentation (and Harry's natural resistance to veela allure) changes all of that.

Y — Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k words)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

Z — Zenith by @corvuscrowned (E, 20.6k words)

Desperate to find relief from worsening migraines and broken magic, Harry sets out to reach mystical hot springs that are said to grant healing and realignment.

The only problem? The springs lie deep within a cursed forest that lures hikers to their death by tempting them with their greatest desires.

So when Harry sees Draco Malfoy in the forest, he must be hallucinating.

Right?

Or: A hero’s journey but gay.

[literally-12]

DPxDC Summoning Gone Wrong

Hi! Long time reader, first time writer. Please don't hate me if it's not super in character. Also I know this trope is overdone but oh well. I was inspired by a text post by @phiniusandjelly

Constantine felt the shift in power instantaneously and all at once. It manifested itself in the form of a cold shiver that started at his hairline and seeped throughout his body bringing with it goosebumps and a cold sweat. Something was deeply wrong. No. Something had changed and unfortunately, as the Justice Leagues’ resident expert on the supernatural, he felt as though somehow he was going to be responsible for getting to the bottom of it. 

Getting all the right information and sigils took longer than he wanted and convincing the rest of the Earth’s mightiest that he hadn’t finally slipped and cracked the fragile state of his already questionable mind took nearly as long. Luckily, Constantine knew if he needed to, he could get tall, dark, and spooky to back him. 

“I’m telling you, Bats, there has been a very large and significant shift in the forgotten realms and it is in your best interest that we follow up with all the gravity that this situation requires”. Constantine took a deep drag of his cigarette, pointedly ignoring Bruce’s scowl as the tip flared in front of him. Magically stepping into the Bat Cave was not something any wise man would consider doing on even their worst days, but Constantine had never claimed to be wise. 

“Explain”. Grunted Bruce, never one to put too much stock in the occult.

“Here’s the thing, Brucie, we’re talking a massive shift in power, like king of the infinite realms being dethroned type of power. The forgotten realms operate on a combat inheritance and I had the misfortune of meeting Pariah Dark once and he was about as unpleasant and violent of a bloke as they come” he flicked the ash onto the cave floor, beginning to pace, he hoped his unsettled demeanor would enforce the severity of the situation. “The one good thing about Dark was that he tended to mind his own business and stick to his dimension but now we’re dealing with an unknown. An unknown and immensely powerful being who could, if they wanted to, unravel the threads of our very reality”. He sensed more than saw Bruce’s eyebrows furrow, just a fraction of a centimeter, he was sure, but that was enough to let Constantine know that he was being taken seriously now. 

“I propose we bring this new king in and figure out their whole schtick. It’s going to be dangerous but it’s better to know what we’re dealing with in this sort of situation, maybe we can even make a deal, plead for our continued existence and all that.”

“You want to bring an exceedingly powerful, extra dimensional being into our universe and trap them to try and make a deal?” Batman grunted, his mind already racing through the many, many ways that this plan could go incredibly sideways. 

“Think of the children, Bruce, that’s your whole thing, right? You don’t want your gaggle of deplorable orphans growing up and adopting even more sad and blue eyed children in a world that no longer exists”. 

“What’s the probability that you can actually contain this all powerful being?” Constantine tossed the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his heel, pulling out a second and bringing it to his lips. One look from the Bats and he sighed, putting it back in the carton. 

“Optimistically? Eighty percent”. 

“Realistically?” 

“You’re such a buzzkill. Sixty five at best”. The dead-pan he received in lieu of a reply told him that even though the plan would be going forward, Bruce was anything but happy. 

When the summoning came about, it was an all hands on deck situation. The sigils were drawn and checked and rechecked and then checked a third time just for giggles. The writing was done in some viscous red liquid that Bruce was hoping was paint. The red circle was about five feet in diameter and smack in the middle of the conference room at the watchtower. The symbols were not in any language that Bruce could recognize but even without a magical bone in his body, he could feel the power radiating from them. 

“Everybody ready?” Asked Constantine, gesturing for them to stand back, he held a thick, weathered tome in his left hand, flipped to a seemingly random page. At confirmation from the gathered heroes, he began to chant. 

The atmosphere changed immediately. The first thing that Bruce noticed was the sudden drop in temperature. Ice crystals began to form in the center of the now glowing circle, snaking their way lazily out towards the perimeter in hypnotizing patterns, the very air in the room also changed dramatically, becoming charged with the smell of ozone and the feeling of lightning about to strike. Every hair on his body stood at rigid attention. He looked at Constantine who now sported a grimace but did not halt his chanting, his tone began to take on an echo, seeming to come from all around him, words overlapping as his face was lit up by an eerie red glow. Bruce had half a mind to call the whole endeavor off as all their shadows began to defy logic and stretch towards the glowing sigils. His teeth gritted, he tried to move, tried to say anything but found himself powerless to move, beginning to drastically regret his choice of allowing Constantine to invite this being into their universe, he debated closing his eyes as a sense of unease washed over him and with the electricity in the room seeming to reach a breaking point, with a loud pop, suddenly everything stopped. 

The quiet and the light that returned to the room was almost as jarring as the whole summoning ritual and when Bruce’s eyes refocused on the circle in the center of the room, he was shocked to see a teenage boy floating there. He had snow white hair that seemed like it couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to gravity, floating as though he was underwater and being pulled by a gentle current. His glowing green eyes were wide and he looked almost as shocked as the team by him appearing in the room. 

“Who are you?” demanded Constantine, never once putting down his thick book. The teen tilted his head, seeming to consider the question. 

“Shouldn’t you know that? Considering you’re the one who called me here and all that. These sigils don’t just say 1-800-dial-a-ghost, you know” his voice further enunciated his youth, however it had a weird, echoey quality, sounding almost as if he was talking directly into Bruce’s ear. He pulled his legs up underneath him, sitting criss crossed midair, looking entirely too relaxed at the situation.

“Answer the question, specter” Constantine demanded, “we’re not fooled by this guise you put on”. To this, the being frowned and flipped upside down. 

“You mean my outfit? I thought it was pretty chic but then again, I wasn’t necessarily given the opportunity to pick out my death day fit, it was just sort of chosen for me”. He gestured at the black and silver jumpsuit he was wearing that betrayed his slight frame. 

“Constantine…” Superman spoke up for the first time, taking a step closer to the man. “He’s just a kid”. 

“That’s what the bugger wants you to think.” the man grit out “you think a being this powerful can’t do something as minute as changing his appearance to try to get us to drop our guards?” Clark looked torn but resumed his place in the line of heroes behind the occultist. 

“Listen to big blue, I’m just a harmless kid!” said the floating being, flashing a pearly white set of teeth that were just on the wrong side of being too sharp. 

“Bullshit! We know you’re the new king of the infinite realms. Play nice and we’ll let you go back to doing whatever it is you do in your dimension. We just want to know what the terms of your rule are.” 

“Oh, that” he flipped himself back upright and floated closer to Constantine, as he approached the perimeter of the trap, the sigils on the floor glowed brighter at his presence. Hesitantly, with one hand he reached out a finger, jerking it back a red spark zapped the tip. Sticking it in his mouth, in pain, he managed to talk around the digit saying “you know, this meeting could’ve been an email” pulling his finger out and giving his hand a test shake, he narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. “Plus, isn’t it only polite that you introduce yourself first? I am a guest.”

“While you are here, you are our guest,” said Batman diplomatically, “we intend to extend all proper grace to you while you are in our presence. They call me Batman”. 

The teen snorted. 

“Yeah, I sort of gathered that by the whole bat symbol and pointy ears thing you’ve got going on”. He held his fingers up on either side of his head in a mimicry of Batman’s cowl. “I was talking about Mr. all powerful British magic man over here”. He stuck his hand out again, clearly not having learned his lesson, he withdrew it with a hiss as the invisible barrier sparked again. 

“There’s no escape for you, your highness, these sigils are specially made to contain any ghost within them” Constantine sounded smug. “You’re just going to hurt yourself by trying”. 

The child in the circle mouthed ‘any ghost’ mockingly, but floated backwards towards the center of the circle. Batman sighed, seems like he’s going to have to have all the manners around here. 

“John Constantine, Superman, Wonder Woman” he pointed at each of his teammates as he went. “And what name should we refer to you with?” 

Without moving his eyes from the man in the trenchcoat, the kid began to smile, just a little too widely for Bruce to feel comforted. 

“They call me Phantom”, he said off handedly, “Constantine, you say?” The man in question narrowed his eyes. “You know I have a full file cabinet stuffed with paperwork for you, I was hoping we would get the pleasure of meeting. I would’ve gotten it to you sooner but there's surprisingly a lot of work that has to happen in the first few days of a new reign”. He put his feet back firmly on the conference room floor. “If you’ll just allow me to go grab that, we can get started post haste!” He was way too chipper for anyone to be talking about paperwork. 

“So you are the new ghost king then” Constantine said accusationally, narrowing his eyes. “And we’re not letting you leave until we know what your intentions are with this dimension”

“Yeah, yeah” said Phantom. “You don’t have to ‘let’ me do anything. I know how you occultists work. You made one mistake though in this whole summoning slash kidnapping scheme”. With that, a blinding white light overtook the teen, forcing everyone to look aside to save their sight. When they looked back, Phantom had changed his appearance, gone was the ethereal floating white hair, replaced with normal, albeit messy black. His jumpsuit was also gone, replaced by a deceptively normal looking NASA hoodie and jeans with tears in the knees. 

Constantine’s eyes widened as he took in this new sight, he began to flip rapidly through his spell book, as Bruce watched the boy take one step forward, and then two, and then with a graceful hop, he was outside of the circle. 

“This circle only holds in ghosts” and with a devilish smile and another flash of brillant light, he was gone. On the floor where he had been standing only moments before, was a thick stack of loose leaf papers written in a language Bruce couldn’t decipher, text glowing an eerie green. On top of the stack was a post it note with messily scrawled handwriting. ‘Please return completed paperwork to the infinite realms ℅ Phantom at your earliest convenience’ another flash and another post it note ‘also I come in peace- Phantom’. 

Batman, as well as the others turned to Constantine to watch him drop his head into his hands, his large book tumbling to the side. He didn’t even protest when the man pulled out and lit another cigarette. 

“You have a lot of explaining to do” was all he said.

[melanchoire]

imagine wonyoung trying to be a good girlfriend and decides to prepare something special for your anniversary and tries and fails to cook a delicious meal 💔 y/n comes home in shock at the sight of the smoke surrounding their home and immediately rushes to the kitchen to see wony trying to put out a fire and save her already burnt and ruined meal 😕 however, y/n sees the disappointment in wonyoung’s eyes as she fails to cook her wonderful girlfriend a meal and decides to cheer her up— by eating her out in the kitchen and claims “nothing can ever beat your taste.”

cw: cum eating, cunnilingus, edging, fingering, praise, orgasm denial, squirting.

despite her busy schedule and generally busy life as an idol she always prioritizes you ☹️ it’s more than obvious what wonyoung’s love language is when it comes to her loved ones: affection, sweet words and compliments whenever she sees the opportunity or feels it necessary and too many gifts ❤️ the thing she loves most in her life is seeing that honest smile appear on your face when she starts bombarding you with sudden affection

and despite her busy schedule and generally busy life as an idol she always prioritizes you above all else 🥹 if she has a business proposal meeting from a brand and the meeting is in the morning, she’ll first take you to a restaurant to have breakfast and then drop you off at work and continue with her day. if she has a photo shoot that is taking forever she’ll use her breaks to text you and ask how your day is going (she goes a few minutes over her break and realizes she has the director and stylists calling her name to come back to the set, but of course, she complies only after sending you one last message.) and if she has to work late she will make up for her noticeable absence from home by buying you a nice gift as an apology and a more than provided fuck later 😊

she’s also the type to take you on dates all the time because she’s a loving and thoughtful girl who loves to be able to show all her love in every possible way

but just as wonyoung loves expensive and luxurious restaurants, she also wants to try to be the one who does things because she feels that a homemade meal proves much more than buying a ready–made dinner 🥺 this opportunity is taken advantage of by her on the day of your anniversary — all week she was either evasive or giving very short answers whenever you asked her what you two should do, telling you not to worry too much because she wants to take care of everything

that day, she’s the one who gets home first because she made sure she could leave work early to try to surprise you ❤️ she’s in the kitchen, looking up dinner recipes on her phone’s search engine, and although she doesn’t have much knowledge about cooking because she’s used to you being the one who cooks or just something easier like going out to dinner, she wants to give her best and try to achieve her goal 🥹

roast chicken is her choice: something simple but delicious to make. however, wonyoung doesn’t understand much about how long and what is the proper temperature to cook something like this 🤔❓ she deduces that if you cook something in the oven at medium temperature for about 30 minutes, the food will be perfectly cooked and juicy, giving her the time she needs to get ready and pretty for her long–awaited evening with her beloved 🥰

taking a relaxing bubble bath with water bombs and scented candles is the best way for wonyoung to relax!! she leans her head back against the side of the tub, closing her eyes and enjoying the comforting sensation of warm water and the scent of raspberry and roses filling the room while the music hums in her airpods

what wonyoung didn’t expect was to start smelling a bitter smell. frowning and opening her eyes she takes the box that previously contained the water bombs, reading the content information because she thought she had bought the wrong scent or that it was probably a new flavor from the brand 🤔 but it doesn’t take long for her to remember that she was making dinner! in the blink of an eye she’s out of the shower, putting on her robe and slippers and running out of the bathroom

the house filled with smoke and the dark cloud coming out of the oven are the first things her eyes meet and were two things that were giving wonyoung goosebumps. she’s quick and turns off the oven and puts on her oven mitts, opening the oven door and taking the tray, placing the more than charred dinner on the counter ☹️

“baby? what happened here?” shit, you came home at the worst time 😥 she curses herself in her head for not checking her phone earlier and probably seeing beforehand your text saying you were coming home

she immediately turns around, meeting a confused look on your face and noticing that you were… wet? damn, she didn’t notice that the fire detector had gone off, probably not hearing the shrill noise amidst all the chaos because she was so overwhelmed that she didn’t know what to do 💔 even she notices the giant bouquet of roses and bags of luxury clothing brands in your hands… she feels worse because your gift was so thoughtful for her and she could only make a pathetic attempt

“i just—... wanted to do something special for you.” POOR BABY her tone sounds so honest and sincere at that moment 😞 showing that she really wanted to do something special and unique for you and OF COURSE the image of her sad face breaks your heart. the ever professional wonyoung had failed and stepped out of her perfect artist image, but that wasn’t what bothered her, rather she felt like she had failed you.

“dinner isn’t what matters right now, love. our home almost caught fire, your life was in danger and—”

“it’s matters to me.” she’s STUBBORN but you have to understand her! the expression on her face showed that she really wanted to do something meaningful and was disappointed to ruin things on such a special day 😞

she’ll continue to blame herself and it won’t be long before she starts saying that she ruined such a special date like today, so what better option than to kiss her to shut her up once and for all? 🤗 in another situation she would refuse and distance herself from you because she always prefers to solve things in a serious way, but today is not being a good day for her and she lets you do what you want with her

and you know she wants more than just a kiss when her hands go from delicately holding your face to moving up to your hair and roughly grabbing your locks between her fingers, her tongue slowly sliding along your lower lip and then biting it between her teeth, demanding access there and separating from your lips for just a few seconds just to give you a look from under her eyelashes 😳

this is when your brain finally kicks in and figures out what the best way to reassure your girlfriend is that you’re not mad at her for “ruining” your anniversary: making wonyoung sit on the table and eat her pussy to assure and show her that her sweet taste is more delicious than the most expensive and delicious banquet in the world 😊

she’d blush too much when you’re kneeling between her spread legs and staring intently at her pussy dripping wet that is practically begging you to get fucked 😵‍💫 and of course you do! two fingers sunk inside her until your knuckles tickle against her hole as you close your lips around her swollen clit and focus on moving your tongue against it 🥴 if you were in another moment you’d do nothing but tease wonyoung and make her beg a little because usually she’s the one on top and it’s not common to see her being the submissive in bed, but you can’t miss the opportunity to completely destroy this pretty princess when she needs it most 🥰

denying her orgasm every time she’s close :( never fingering her for too long because you were getting addicted to watching her slick drip from her hole down her slit almost instantly after removing your fingers from her pussy 🤤 almost instantly bringing your mouth closer to her pussy and using your thumbs to spread her folds and letting her sticky sweetness coat your tongue, humming at the warm and yummy taste in your mouth 😋

but you stop teasing her when her sweet moans and whines start to mix with her messy pleas, saying things like “please sweetheart…” “stop teasing me” “i need to cum, i need this” as she moves her hips against your hand, riding your fingers and grinding her clit against the palm of your hand… and you agree 💯 three long fingers fucking her pussy relentlessly while you suck and nibble on her throbbing clit

her knuckles turning white as her hands grip the edges of the counter as if her life depended on it, throwing her head back as breathy moans fall from her swollen lips and her eyes roll back in her head

and she could cum a second time without being touched the moment she sees you drinking her juices like they were cold water on the hottest day of summer 😳 running your thumb along your bottom lip as you look up at her with your lips glistening with her slickness and your chin wet with her juices

at the end of the night, wonyoung sets out for a second attempt at making dinner. sure, with your request that she can only wear the cute apron she bought a while ago when she started watching cooking shows of famous millionaires, admiring the soft curve of her tits against the front and how the apron ties right at her lower back above her ass 🥴

and again dinner was cancelled because you ended up bending her over the counter and fucking her from behind, deciding that the best option would be to order food and let her try her hand at being a good housewife for another day 😊

[andersunmenschlich]

Maybe it is possible for humans to interact easily without having any expectations for how a person who looks like this or like that is most likely to act in any given situation.

I've never seen it happen—even in all Man or all Woman interactions there are categories of expectation depending on the type of woman or man a person is perceived to be—but I suppose it's theoretically possible. I think it'd be really cool if the people I interact with could avoid all biases about the kind of person I might or might not be and just interact with me as I am.

That'd be really, really cool. I hope you're right and it turns out to be possible.

But yeah, humans have what seems to be a nearly invincible tendency to put things in boxes: to create a set number of categories and assign everything they encounter to one of those created categories. A platypus is a mammal. A tomato is a fruit. A woman is more likely to want the bedazzled handbag I'm selling than a man. Etc.

Be really cool if humanity could overcome this, though. I hope you're right.

—

I think anything but the informed consent model is unethical. This is probably because of my upbringing! I have heard people genuinely argue that a pregnant person should never be allowed to decide to end the pregnancy. They vary on who, exactly, they think should make this decision for the person who is the only one in the situation that's actually pregnant, but one thing they agree on: take that choice away from the person I say it belongs to.

"You're not the expert on what you want for your own body," this other model claims. "You can't be the expert because you don't know what you're asking for, even though I just told you." If a doctor tells someone "this treatment will result in your death," the patient should have the right to respond, "yes, that's what I want."

Now, if the patient says "no it won't, give it to me, I'll be fine"—that patient is clearly not informed. They're refusing to be informed, and so they can't give informed consent.

Personally I'd still give them what they're asking for, since their ignorance harms no one but them: but that's me.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon Commission for @wimble_warcrime

Request: So basically, I was thinking of a disgustingly cute fluff piece about a werewolf and his mate going on a winter vacation a month before his mate is due to give birth to his litter. It's like a last hurrah before their family dynamic is changed forever, and they want to spend it alone. But (!), things don't go as planned, and she's forced into labour (after a particularly rowdy round in the sheets), and their also stranded in the middle of nowhere in the log cabin because of a sudden blizzard. So, werehubby and her have to deal with the birth alone, without pain meds or power.

A/N: I hope this meets your expectations, I changed it a lil bit and added power to the mix so there was someone not panicking. It was very interesting to write. :)

Cabin surprise

Werewolf x fem!reader || sfw (mainly), found family feels || tw: pregnancy, labor

When you first arrived to the cabin, everything felt so new and cozy that you felt instantly at home, it was like you could inhale the peace around you, the woods, solitude, the chirps of the birds outside… And your werewolf husband cursing because he kicked a rock while carrying your bags. Typical.

You tried not to laugh, but when you looked back and saw him looking at the rock as if it personally offended him, you let out a soft chuckle. He looked up, eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on his face, but as soon as your eyes met, it disappeared. His face broke into the biggest smile possible, his ears twitching like they did when he was excited.

Staring at him from the porch of the cabin, hand resting on your very big belly and a soft smile as you looked at him. It was just the epitome of relaxing situation. He walked to you in a rush, not caring that he probably kicked a few more rocks in his way. He was a werewolf on a mission, and his mission was you.

He hugged you with his free arm, squeezing you to his side as he walked inside. “Come on darling, let’s get you settled and then I can rub your feet.”

“I don’t need you to do that,” you tried to argue instantly.

He looked down, faking annoyance. “I know. But I want to.”

He had been more than helpful since you found out you were pregnant. Well, since he sniffed your neck and informed you that you were going to be parents. That was a weird breakfast. But it was magical at the same time, he looked so excited his tail didn’t stop wriggling from side to side for hours. Literal hours wriggling his tail, and his ears twitching in excitement every time he looked at you. His excitement had died down a tiny bit, but he was still over the moon about the baby. Or at least he acted like it.

You had the suspicion that what he really liked was seeing you round with his babies, he fucked you harder than ever, being careful not to put too much pressure or weight on your belly, but fucking you until your arms and legs were trembling and you were drenched in his come, your stomach and pussy messy as he marked you over and over.

He whispered sweet nothings in your ear every time it happened, too. He told you how much he enjoyed seeing you full of his cub, how he wanted to keep you full of come so you would smell like him forever… And you lapped it up. You lived for the attention, he was hornier than ever, and that helped a lot with your crazy pregnancy hormones that made you want to jump him every single second you had available.

And good lord if he complied with that.

He didn’t leave any of your desires without fulfillment. You wanted to be fucked raw doggy-style until your body was sore? Done. You wanted to suck his dick until he was crying and begging? Done. You wanted strawberries and cream out of season? Don’t worry darling, he would drive three towns over until he found them.

And right now, you knew full well what you wanted. And that was to be ravaged by your werewolf. “Come here,” you told him, eyes hooded and a primal hunger boiling inside of you.

His smirk was knowing as he approached, lowering his head enough to kiss your waiting lips. You deepened the kiss instantly, grabbing his hair and pulling until he was whimpering against your lips and grabbing your ass, pulling you up and walking you to the room.

And once again… he complied with all your desires.

But when you woke up a couple hours later, soreness wasn’t the first thing you felt, but the agonizing pain of contractions. Fuck. You were in so much trouble. You could hear the wind outside, which wasn’t a good sign.

You tried to remain calm as your brain freaked out completely. “Honey. Honey, wake up. I think we need to go.” He mumbled something in his sleep, and you turned to his sleeping form and hit him right in the chest. “Wake the fuck up, the baby is coming!” You snapped.

He stood up in one fast movement, looking around in confusion. “What?!” He was blinking rapidly, as if he could stop being sleepy if he did that.

You stared right back at him, but when another contraction hit, you squeezed his arm until he winced. “I have contractions. The baby is coming.”

Instant panic. “But… But we aren’t ready. We don’t have the stuff and… and. Hospital. We need to get to the hospital.” You looked at him and pointed at the window, which was obscured by the dark clouds outside and the huge amount of snow falling. That fact hit him harder than you expected. “There’s a fucking storm outside, we can’t go to the hospital. Shit. Shit. Shit. What do we do? What do I do?”

You breathed hard, trying to collect yourself. “Honey, I need you to calm down, and go get some supplies. We can do this together, okay? We can.” You reminded him. “Say it,” it was an order between clenched teeth.

“We can do this,” he repeated, breathing deeply and looking at you with a hint of desperation.

You looked at him, nodding shortly. “Okay. You aren’t going to pass out right?” You were sure he would hold strong, but at that moment you really needed him to be on fucking alert.

He looked offended. “What? No!”

“Okay. Go get towels and clean water and all those stuff they get in movies,” you instructed.

He got everything he could as you tried to remember all the things they taught you in parenting classes, how to breathe, what to do when the worst pain hit… All that things that at the moment felt a bit stupid but right now were saving you from panicking.

But then your amazing husband returned, he had the best idea ever. “Let me call the Alpha, she will know what to do.” You nodded, squeezing his hand until he whined at the next contraction.

He talked in hushed tones as the Alpha told him some stuff you couldn’t pick. Your brain was entirely focused on the pain and the way your lower body was starting to feel too heavy.

“Okay, okay… Darling, I got you. I got you. Alpha is going to walk us thru’ it, okay? She’s done it a thousand times with wolves in the pack, right?” You nodded, looking at him with tears in your eyes. He looked panicked still, but a lot more collected. “We can get through this. And then we’ll have a beautiful baby that will look a perfect mix between you and me, okay? You want that right?” You nodded again, a single tear leaving your eye as he helped you into a better position.

Step by step he followed what the Alpha was saying on the speaker, never stopping giving you encouragement and compliments. How good you were doing, how pretty you looked even when you felt like shit, how much he loved you… And with each word and each contraction, you felt a bit lighter, a bit better. And when the time to push arrived, he held your hand as he guided you through it.

And when you thought your body couldn’t hold anymore, when you thought you were about to die because of the pain… Then you heard a cry.

You opened your eyes enough to see a ball of fur and soft human skin on your husband’s arms, smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing he’d ever seen. And you can understand why. Because he is. He’s the most precious baby. Delivery wasn’t over, but the rest flew by in a few seconds (or you thought there were seconds) because you knew your baby boy was okay and well…

You were breathing hard, body completely spent, when your husband approached you, already clean and with a bundle of covers on his arms. “You did it, darling.” He kissed your forehead. “You did so good, look at him, he’s so beautiful. Looks just like you…” He passed you the baby and you couldn’t hold back the tears. He looked so perfect, his tiny pointy ears twitching at the sound of your voice, and his nose scrunching as you booped him. He was… perfect.

The next morning you woke up feeling more than soreness, your whole body hurting but with a delicious smell of pancakes and bacon arriving from the kitchen. You wanted to get up, but before you could, your beautiful werewolf was walking back into the room, a plate full of food in one hand, and your beautiful baby in the other.

“The whole pack is here to help, the ran through the blizzard to get here,” he told you with tears in his eyes. You were a lot more sensitive than him at the moment, so the contained tears weren’t your reaction. You started to sob very loudly, alerting the whole pack who entered the room in a panic.

You found yourself half naked in bed, with your whole family looking at you with love and understanding in their eyes…

You did good. Both of you did perfect.

[justastraymoa]

Yet Unnamed

Chapter 10

Masterlist

Hyune greeted you with an air kiss so he wouldn’t mess up the freshly done makeup. “They were taking photos as I was getting ready. Asking interview questions.” He informed me. He knew that something seemed off about it and wanted to warn you just in case.

And he was right too. Neither of these things were discussed or approved. And they most certainly would need to make sure nothing was caught that would damage his reputation. Plus Hyunjin knew they weren’t on the itinerary you two had gone through.

“Okay, thanks. I’ll get on it.”

The following was a bit of a disaster. And in the end, you were left with a dangerous choice. Let them walk all over you, disrespect Hyunjin, and break the agreement. Or pull Hyunjin entirely and risk him being labeled or blacklisted but not being known as a pushover.

You highly doubted he would be blacklisted entirely. He was too good, too well known in the industry already for one incident to cause too many issues. He would probably be blacklisted from working with this company ever again, but if this is how they did business, did any of you want to be affiliated with them?

“My leader is on his way to deal with this since you want to be so disrespectful to me.” You said as nicely as you could muster to the company representative you had been going back and forth with for the last half hour.

“I’m being disrespectful? You are refusing to work and are even trying to cheat us out of our footage! You really don’t know your place, do you?” He returned pointing a finger at me.

No, you were not going to let him pull you back into this argument and bait you into saying or doing something to hang yourself. “Hyunjin will not be continuing with a single thing until this is resolved.” You simply warned him. Then you spun and went back to Hyunes ready room where he had stayed so they didn’t get anything else from him. You were thankful he thought ahead on that one, even hearing the argument through the doors and walls.

As soon as you were in the room with him Hyunjin stroked at your hair, offering you comfort. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly so no one else would overhear. You had shut the door behind you, but doors and walls had ears and you both knew that all too well.

You nodded at him with a tight smile. You were more pissed than you were letting on, but there was a time and place for everything and lashing out or ranting would not help this situation right now. Level heads were needed in this situation.

You both settled into chairs, not risking talking. You sat in separate chairs and didn’t touch, not being affectionate in front of people you did not trust. Instead, you pulled out your tablet to work on some backlogged media, and Hyune scrolled through his phone.

Ten minutes passed before the door to the ready room opened and you both were immediately alert. “The cameras are set up. Is he ready?” A tech asked.

The representative must not have taken you seriously and thought you were bluffing. “Like I told your boss, Hyunjin will not be getting in front of anymore of your cameras or speaking to any of you until our leader gets here or the company reaches an appropriate agreement with me.”

The tech looked over at Hyunjin, silently asking him if what you said was true. Typical. Acting like this wasn’t your job or your call. Acting like you didn’t even exist. Like since you had a vagina you couldn’t possibly know what you were talking about.

Annoyed and done with the disrespect today you stepped in his line of sight, blocking Hyunjin from view. “Hi, yeah. This is my call right now – you speak to me.” You jabbed your own chest to demonstrate.

The tech took another second before nodding and leaving the room, not closing the door behind him. Repressing a sigh at yet another sign of disrespect you stepped forward and closed the door yourself, resisting with great effort, the urge to slam it.

“You are kind of scary in business mode.” Hyune remarked idly.

Huffing out a breath you sat back down, crossing your legs. “They are trying to take advantage of you because of me. And hell if I’ll let anyone use me against any of you.” You said glaring at your tablet as you tapped on it extra hard.

“You were expecting something like this to happen.”

“Eventually, yeah. But I had hoped they would be more professional than this. They didn’t even try and be sneaky about it! Just another slap in the face.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Chan is on his way. He will take over and make the call, as leader.”

“He isn’t coming to take over your job you know, he is coming to offer support.”

“He is leader. I’m not offended. I am untested.” You shrugged it off.

Hyune seemed to let it go.

Chan arrived about fifteen minutes later, calmly but sternly entering the room and closing the door firmly behind him.

“I forgot my phone.” He announced.

You rolled your eyes. “Han told us. What did the rep say?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t talk to them. Came straight here. Though I’m sure they will know I’m here soon. What do you want to do?”

You locked your tablet and set it aside. “Up to you, boss. If he does the commercial, they will use the shots and interview, and I will have no control over when or how.” You informed him.

He shook his head. “No, this is your call, your domain. I’m only here to support you.” He held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Told you.” Hyunjin said from behind you. You resisted the childish urge to stick your tongue out at him.

You were shocked that Chan was willing to give up control like that. This would affect all of Stray Kids if it didn’t go the way the company wanted it to go. If you don’t give in and let them do what they want. You bit your lip and thought about it.

If he was going to trust you and let you do what you think was best, then you weren’t going to hold back. This company was not going to get away with this. “Speak to the rep and see if he will come to an agreement with you. He seems to feel superior to women. We need to approve when and where they use all the footage, and they need to pay for all of the additional footage and shots as well.” You explained. “A new contract will need to be drawn up, agreed upon, and signed before anything can continue today.”

Chan nodded in understanding. “Okay. Only if you come too. They need to know I support you and your decisions completely.”

You nodded and smiled, leading the way. “Hyune, call me if anyone comes in here – and don’t say a word to them.”

Hyune nodded and you and Chan left the room to find the rep, determined to get this settled one way or another. This was taking up too much of everyone’s precious and limited time.

As expected, the rep knew Chan was here and met up with you just outside the ready room door. He immediately started speaking only to Chan. “This girl here is going to ruin your reputation if you keep her around. She is trying to steal from us and is being completely unreasonable.” The rep continued to explain that the video and photos were his companies to use as they wished and that you refused to work with him to come to an agreement.

You let the man talk, not interrupting him once. You even avoided making any noises or faces to his bold-faced lies. If Chan believed them, then there were far more issues than you thought there were, and you would deal with that when you could. But Chan gave no indication of believing the man. He stood silently and let him talk, simply nodding to let him know he was listening to him. The look on Chan’s face got darker and darker the more the man talked, which the man took to be a good thing, letting it fuel further complaints and lies.

The silence hung in the air when the man finally finished his bullshit. Chan stood with his arms crossed looking pissed as hell, but was he pissed at you or for you, that was the question. And you were just a little nervous about the answer.

“Interesting.” Chan finally replied. “What do you want to do, Y/n? Its your call.” He stared directly at the rep as he asked this, daring the man to say something else.

It seemed like Chan didn't even want to try and negotiate with the man or come to a compromise, which was fine with you. You had already made your decision.

You took a second to properly formulate your response. “I’m pulling Hyunjin. The contract agreed upon is clear and it was broken by you. If any photos or video is found to have been used in any capacity, we will take action against your company.”

The rep scoffed. “You’re kidding. Do you know what you are doing? We will pull him as ambassador!”

“Thank you for reminding me. We will also be ending the ambassadorship. Stray Kids will not now nor ever associate with petty thieves such as yourselves.”

Turning back to Chan the rep pointed an angry finger at you again. You really wanted to snap it off his hand. “You are going to let her do this? Ruin you like this? Word will spread!”

“Yes, it will.” Chan began with a nod. “Word will spread that Stray Kids will not be taken advantage of. Word will spread that no one can disrespect the members or the staff like you have today.”

The livid rep took one more look at each of you before storming off, already typing furiously on his phone. You’re sure a message to his boss will be sent very soon. You planned on sending one of your own as well, complete with a copy of the agreement. The sections that were broken highlighted clearly as well as what actions will be taken should anything be leaked that was taken today. And it would also be sent to Stray Kids manager and JYP just to make sure all bases are covered.

You and Chan went back to the ready room. “Change back into your clothes, we are leaving.” Chan announced.

Hyune got to it without question or comment, and you started to gather your things.

“Thank you. Both of you.” You said when you were done. You were immensely grateful for their trust in you.

You rode back to the company together. You were on your phone typing out the long email to the president of the offending company himself, explaining exactly why Hyunjin was pulled the day of the shoots. Chan and Hyune were talking amongst themselves.

Your eyes stayed on your screen even as you arrived at the company and got out of the vehicle. You felt someone steer you away from obstacles, but didn’t bother to look up to see who it was or where you were going. You had a whole new list of things to do to fully get Hyunjin pulled, and you needed to get them done as soon as possible to avoid any more issues. And to prove that you were not bluffing, even in the slightest.

Unfortunately, not even five minutes after sending the email to the president of the offending company, SKZ manager, and JYP your phone rang in your hand and JYPs nasty face tainted your phone screen.

As you swiped to pick up you vaguely noted that you were now in 3rachas sound room and were curious when and how you got there.

“Since when do you know Korean? And what the hell happened today?” JYP immediately started shouting as soon as the call connected, not even waiting for a hello.

The three men in the room with you looked over concerned, easily able to hear JYP shouting over the phone. You rubbed the bridge of your nose. Your lack of sleep was catching up to you and you were sick of getting yelled at today.

“I’ve known Korean for most of my life. And I explained everything in great detail in the email. Did you even bother to read it, or did you just call to jump down my throat about things you don’t have all the facts for?” You snapped. This man deserved not even the little respect you were still giving him.

“What made you think it was a good idea to piss off a huge company? The president called me directly to tell me what you did!”

“I hate when he talks to her like that.” Han said lowly, face dark. It was an oddly sexy look for the quokka.

“You should have heard the people at the shoot.” Hyunjin responded. Chan nodded.

You hushed them. “Listen, asshole. I made the call. My explanation is in the email. Both Chan and Hyunjin were there and can back up the facts. I don’t give a shit if you talked to the president of the company or the President of the United States. The call was made, and I’m sticking to it. Goodbye.” You hung up before JYP could respond, done with him yelling at you while being ignorant.

“Coffee. I need a gallon of it.” You announced.

The three men were silent in shock, but Chan pointed to a small single serve machine in the corner, stocked with anything you could need to make a good cup of joe or tea. Thankful, you immediately started to brew one for yourself.

JYP didn’t call you back, though you were planning on ignoring his calls anyways. And he also didn’t respond to your email. You took this as a small victory. If not for him accepting your decision, then for not having any contact with him again.

Mainlining coffee and actively avoiding thinking about the video premiering in a few minutes, you went to the atrium to set up for filming shorts. Chan was right. It was a beautiful, sunny day. Perfect lighting and backdrop for the videos.

The challenge videos were fun to set up and film. The boys and the idol guests did their own things, came up with their own fun twists to the challenge. It was obvious how much fun they all seemed to have with it, interacting with friends they rarely got to see thanks to schedules. Getting to meet new idols that they admired. Just plain interact with other groups. The fans loved seeing them show off the friendships they had with other idols they stanned.

However, you failed to realize just how annoying it would be to listen to the same 30 second clip of a song 500 times. Not even watching them and meeting other idols yourself could stop the irritation that brought on.

You hid your red face as Chan came over with a wide, teasing smile. Apparently you are not used to compliments or praise. You learn something new about yourself everyday. People usually didn’t notice what you did because it was always behind the scenes. They just appreciate the end product.

“So, your video came out half an hour ago.” Chan gently said, knowing how nervous you were about it.

You had been trying to ignore anything to do with it. You knew the boys had been replying to comments, but you weren’t brave enough to go in and look over them to approve them because then you would have to see what people had been saying about you.

“How bad is it?” You ask picking at the table you were sitting at. Han and Hyunjin were still filming their videos. Using the setup while they could for other videos.

“Not as good as I had hoped, but not as bad as you are thinking.” Chan said cryptically. “Let’s go back to the room and we can look at them together. Away from prying eyes.”

Immensely grateful for this man, you accept his offer and his hand when he held it out for you.

When you got back to the room you claimed the couch again, pulling your knees up and letting Chan pull you against his side and hold you. You slowly unlock your tablet, dread and anxiety filling you with every tap.

“Maybe I should have someone else do this.” You suggest before pulling anything up.

“Y/n. Just get it over with.” Chan deadpanned, not letting you procrastinate any more than you already have.

You siged, knowing he was right, but still not liking it. You made a face at him, and he patted your arm in comfort, still holding you around your shoulders.

You suck in a deep breath and look at the damage.

The initial reactions to the video were the fans losing their shit. Being excited for Stray Kids. There was an unholy amount of exclamation points and emojis used, and caps lock seemed to be stuck on everyone’s devices. There were some people unsure about how to feel and they expressed that with general negativity, but not open hostility towards you, so you could handle that.

The second stage is when everyone get over their initial shock and watched the video all the way through once. Now they were watching for a second time, this time to pick you apart. Every little thing, good and bad. Picking at everyone’s answers, body language, and even micro expressions. This is where STAY started to really come to their own judgments about you. This was the part you were not looking forward to.

“Chan, STAY is going to bury me alive!” You whine after reading a comment threatening just that. You buried your face in his chest and groaned/shouted.

Chan caved his chest in trying to get away. “That tickles.”

“What tickles?” Hyune asked. He and Han entered the room, back in comfier clothes now that they were done filming videos.

“She yelled into my chest. We are reading comments on her video.”

“Ah. Freaking out?” Han guessed plopping on the couch with us and draping his legs over Chans. Hyune sat behind him, holding him up.

“Understatement! I was never meant to be known! This is nuts! STAY is nuts!” You complained, stomping your feet.

“They aren’t even all that bad. Theres lots of support here too.” Hyune pointed out. He was scrolling through the comments on his phone again, stopping periodically to reply to one. You haven’t even gotten to check their replies yet. You weren’t past the original comments.

“This one literally wants to bury me alive and take my place in the group! Word for word!”

“Okay. So that ones a little scary. The good news is you can’t be replaced. We would never allow it.”

You reached over and pinched Hyunes’ cheek lightly in affection.

In the end it was exactly as you had been expecting. STAY was divided almost 50/50 on liking or hating you. There were a couple concerning comments you promptly took note of before deleting and blocking the individual, but most negative comments were hateful, hurtful words. Words you were failing to stop from getting to you.

Though you are proud to say you only cried once. You felt that was pretty good since this is the first time you subjected yourself to this level of scrutiny and judgement.

All three of your available soulmates held you and comforted you when they saw the tears. One of them must have texted Felix and Seungmin, because they arrived loaded with comfort food.

“Don’t worry, Y/n. You get numb to most of it after a while. And there is a lot of support too. Focus on them. Haters are a dime a dozen and mostly only want attention.” Felix assured handing you a plate of food after dishing it out among all of you.

You were laying across the couch, your feet in Felixs lap. Seungmin lay on top of you slowly, looking apologetic. You let him, resting your hands on his back as you continued to work and text. Seungmin, you learned, had a love by teasing nature. He didn’t mean any harm by it, and most of his words came from being emotionally constipated, unable to properly express himself.

Absently you rubbed Seungmin’s ear shell as he relaxed on top of you, practically melting against you. Felix moved your feet and wedged himself between the couch, Seungmin, and you, sliding one arm under your back and resting his head on Seungmins back.

When he was settled you reached over and scratched lightly at his scalp before going back to work.

The rest of the day would be calmer. Mostly computer work. So Seungmin and Felix could nap peacefully without being disturbed.

Chan and Han discussed their music quietly across the room, even calling Bin when he had a free moment to assist. It was a very nice, relaxing work afternoon.

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

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General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

[jcollinswrites]

I just can't stop smiling at Narmer's manner. When he was extremely direct about whether we were interested in him or not, my poor male MC was about to throw himself in the water XD

I just love the fact that Narmer is straightforward about things, it makes my shy MC's life so much easier. Sure, he turns red like a tomato but it makes it easier to avoid paranoia.

I've lost count of how many times I've been frustrated with a RO because he just wasn't direct about his feelings. Like, man, it's not that hard. Just tell me if you're interested or not. Luckily with Narmer I don't run that risk

And I also don't intend to judge his relationship with his wife or anything like that. I just don't like to judge a person based only on part of a conversation I heard and I don't even know the whole context. So suffering on my route? I'll be dodging as much as I can Imao.

Also, from what I understand, he is not officially married to his supposed wife, or is he? Considering that apparently no one knows about this woman except those closest to him or maybe Ahmose if he talks about his mother. I confess that I was a little confused in this part but it's probably because English isn't my first language and sometimes my mind just freezes haha. So I didn't understand if he wasn't officially married or the MC simply didn't know this information.

If that were the case, would we be able to marry him or would we be something like a concubine or something?

If he wasn't, and it was possible to marry him, what would your reaction be if the MC left a ring in your room surrounded by flowers with a little card:

Will you marry me?

( ) Absolutely

( ) Of course

( ) Yes

( ) No (Optional)

While hiding behind the door watching your reaction?

⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄

Anyway, I love your IF please never stop with it 🥹💕 I've never smiled as much with a character as I am smiling right now! I can't wait for the next update. As far as I remember, this is the one where we blocked the route, right? Please Narmer, give me more kisses on the forehead and your hand in marriage 🥹🫴

(I got a little carried away and it got bigger than it should have, sorry XD)

Yes, Narmer wanted to be very straightforward in letting the MC know that he is not uninterested, but it's going to be hard to be in any sort of relationship with him for many reasons. So he (and the partner) are either all in, or no deal.

The wife business was probably confusing because I didn't write in detail yet about the king's marriage rights. This will be explained a bit more in Narmer's route, so things will get clearer later if you choose his romance.

The king is the only person in the country who can have more than one spouse. Narmer is officially married to Nefru, but being married to the king doesn't automatically make someone a queen consort. The king has to give out that title. So Nefru is a consort, but she is not the main consort, and was not given any title, nor does he go anywhere with her in public, so that's why most people don't know about her. Simply for being married to the king, her official rank is princess.

Narmer could technically marry anyone else he wishes without getting a divorce. He can also make anyone else his queen consort. It's his right. (for a male MC, Narmer will figure out another title)

It will be possible to marry him, if you manage to reach at least a neutral ending with him. In the scenario you mentioned, Narmer would smile and say, "Let's not get the word out that you were the one who asked me and not the other way around, but... yes, I've been thinking about it too."

Thanks for the sweet message 🥰 The romance lock-in choice will come in the next public update (probably in a few weeks I think), so not long to wait now :)))

[amdiriel]

an open letter to @teddygrahamsam—

i know you’ve been flooded with messages, some more scathing than others, and I wanted to take an opportunity to say this only once.

if you’re young: feeling on the outside of the world of writers that you want to be a part of, and impatient about getting up there with them, I do understand that it’s tempting to cut corners. but you have to understand that stealing someone’s work and then defending it with “well they have all the recognition and I have nothing so it doesn’t matter” is completely disregarding and disrespecting the work that writer put into their blog. if you’re young, you made a pretty big mistake and there are ways to apologize, learn, and grow from it. if you’re young and feeling like there are stones being thrown at you right now, you aren’t beyond moral help, but you DO need to learn this lesson. I would recommend a heartfelt apology to the creators you plagiarized from as well as a deletion of the posts of said stolen work. you can always (and probably should) delete your blog and start anew knowing what you’ve now learned is harmful behavior. if you feel like your writing isn’t going anywhere, keep at it! a lot of it can do with the aesthetic formatting—or if you feel like you need writing help, there are resources and writers out there who would be willing to give tips about how to improve. people are kind and want to help! but cutting these kinds of corners won’t get you anywhere with your OWN writing. and if all you care about is building your community and recognition, well…I’m not sure if this is for you.

the point is, if you’re young and don’t know any better, you can come back from this, better informed and having made amends.

if you’re grown AND know better than to steal someone’s work, then I really have nothing to say to you.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 10

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Underage drinking, sobriety, triggered PTSD

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 10

Dear Weird Mr. Rich Man—  

Sorry. Tell me if I’ve gone too far with these.  

I’ve made friends! I know that has nothing to do with my studies, but We can both agree that socialization has its benefits. It’s an important piece of one’s college experience. I’m sure you have a few stories from your wild college days…  

Maybe you could tell me about them sometime?  

Or not.  

Probably not.  

But it’s nice, feeling like I finally have a foothold in this strange new world. At first, I felt out of place, but I think I’m finally getting the hang of this. It only took a few months.  

Colored lights flashed in time with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers over Jason’s head. It was only slightly louder than the shouts and clink of glasses happening around them. He teetered on the cusp of a sensory nightmare, but he shoved the discomfort aside to focus on what Roy was saying.  

He rarely went to clubs. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people packed into a confined place spelled trouble for him, but it was Roy’s turn to pick their hangout spot. Even though he stopped drinking a year ago, he liked to surround himself with the noise and bustle of the club. Jason couldn’t relate, but it had been months since they’d had a chance to get away from their busy lives and catch up. He could suck it up for his sake.  

It wasn’t the ideal place to talk, but Roy managed it just fine. “Lian lost another tooth this week.” He angled his phone toward Jason.  

He leaned forward, squinting at the offensively bright screen.  

“Put on your glasses,” Roy said before muttering a soft, “Stubborn fuck,” under his breath.  

Jason scoffed as he grabbed the glasses that hung off his collar. He avoided wearing them when he could. Not only did it not help the nerd allegations, but glasses weren’t the most practical for his line of work. “I wear them to block blue light.”  

“Uh huh.”  

A dunk in the Lazarus Pit fixed a lot of things, but his penchant for splitting migraines was not one of them. He also had a bad habit of reading without an overhead light, but correlation did not equal causation in this scenario. He slid the glasses up his nose with a soft huff and he could finally focus on the photo on Roy’s phone.  

Lian smiled back at him, showing off several gaps in her teeth. He could see Roy the slightly crooked smile and the wrinkle of mischief around her eyes.  

“She’s getting so big.”  

“Tell me about it.” Roy sighed wistfully as he straightened his frayed ball cap. “I fear the day she starts calling me dad instead of daddy . Or God forbid she switches to father like that little demon spawn does with Bruce.”  

“How will you ever survive,” Jason teased as he sipped his soda.  

Roy smirked. Ah, there was that wrinkle of mischief. “I heard through the grapevine that I’m not the only one getting called daddy these days.”  

Jason sputtered, the carbonated fizz burning his nostrils. He wiped his mouth and sneered. So, this was his plan all along. An ambush. It was suspicious for Roy to call him out of the blue. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, but it was odd that it happened to coincide perfectly with his return to Gotham.  

“I told Artemis it wasn’t like that.”  

“Hey, man, I’m the last person to judge. I like to be called—” He stopped himself, much to Jason’s relief. That was information he could live without. Roy settled on a light punch to the arm instead. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

“No.”  

He downed his drink, despite the unpleasant roil in his belly. The song filtering through the speakers switched to something more upbeat. A cheer ripped through the crowd, and he flinched.  

“But if I did, what would you say? Hypothetically, of course.”  

“Hypothetically, I would say that I’m glad to hear you’re putting yourself out there again. I know you’d never admit it, but the breakup with Artemis hit you hard. This is good…” He bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Though the execution seems a little eh, but I’m not as romantic as you are, so what the fuck do I know? It wouldn’t hurt to try your luck with a civilian partner. Heroes have their perks, but so do civilians.”  

Jason chewed his lip. “I never said I wanted to date her.”  

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”  

Jason thought things would get easier once he distanced himself but not seeing you for nearly two months left him feeling oddly empty. He thought distracting himself with the Outlaws or Park Row patrols, but his mind always wandered back to you. He tried to pinpoint when exactly this crush developed, but he couldn’t settle on a singular moment. It just kind of snuck up on him.  

Still, he stayed away. You never asked for his attention, even if he to sit on your floor and read to you until you fell asleep, to touch—  

Roy waved a hand in front of his face, dragging him back. He forced himself to refocus. “What?”  

“I lost ya there for a second. Care to tell me where you went?”  

Not particularly, but Jason tried anyway. “My life is dangerous. It’s inconsistent, and I have a habit of disappearing when things get tough. I can’t put a civilian’s life needlessly in danger like that. It’s not f—”  

“Shot time!”  

Jason looked up as you passed their table, dragged by none other than Stephanie fucking Brown, in all her sparkly purple glory. And you—  

His eyes widened.  

He’d never seen you wear anything except that ill-fitting button up and slacks. He now realized that was a small mercy granted by the heavens because hot damn . You wore a pair of torn black jeans and a tight red shirt that showed off the contours of your body. It was the jacket though, beaten brown leather, two sizes too large, and obviously thrifted, that dried his throat.  

You looked like…  

He muffled the pathetic whine that pressed through his lips. You and Steph stopped at the bar, the latter muttering low in your ear with a twinkle in her eye. You threw your head back and laughed. Jealousy reared its ugly head as Jason stared.  

Since when were you two friends?  

“Jay?” He tore his eyes away from you to look at Roy. Concern furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you’re alright? If this is too much, we can go somewhere el—”  

Over his shoulder, you and Step clinked glasses before knocking back a shot.  

“No!”  

His expression grew more severe. “No?”  

Jason splayed his hands flat on the sticky table. “I mean, we just got here. Next round is one me. Club soda with a twist of lime, right?”  

Roy looked conflicted, but only for a moment. “Yes.”  

He shoved out of his chair. “Be right back.”  

Sweaty bodies pressed in from all side as he aimed for the bar. Your back was to him as you spoke with the bartender. God, you looked great. Casual, but effortlessly so. You didn’t have to do much to turn heads, and you had certainly garnered the bartender's attention.  

You can do this , he told himself. Make it look natural. Jason could strategize and plot with the best of them. Talking to you wasn’t nearly as complicated as infiltrating Black Mask’s base or apprehending a—  

“Babe, get down before you hurt you—”  

Before Jason could react, he hit the ground. Beer dripped from his curls and soaked the front of his shirt. He straightened his glasses as he turned his ire on the dumbass that had fallen on top of him. “What the fuck, man?”  

Tim stared at him with flushed cheeks.  

He stared back.  

“How’d you get in?” Tim muffled a hiccup as he stumbled to his feet. Jason jumped up to catch him before he fell back onto his face, though it would have been objectively hilarious to see. “You don’t have a valid ID.”  

“This is front for one of my dealers. I’m technically their boss, so they couldn’t turn me away if they wanted to.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re underage. How’d you get in?”  

“I’m Timothy Drake.” Jason could smell the mix of hard liquor and beer on his breath. “Do you really think they’re going to kick me and my friends out?”  

God, the entitlement.  

“Friends?” Jason seethed, “How many people did you smuggle in with you?”  

“Bernard and Steph. She brought a friend too. Whatever. The more the merrier. I don’t usually take the night off, so Bart came in from Central, and Kon flew down from Metropolis…”   

He counted them off on his fingers, but he quickly lost the plot and trailed off. He went a little cross-eyed as he tried to find his train of thought again. Jason crossed his arms and waited. He wiggled his fingers as if it were the most fascinating thing.  

“Tim,” Jason pressed.  

He finally refocused. “A few others too. I’m not going to list them off. It would take too long. I know that’s not something you’re used to.”  

His nostrils flared. “I have friends. I’m here with a friend now.”  

“So, Roy.”  

He searched for the right answer. There wasn’t one.  

“Did someone say shots!” Steph pushed through the crowd with two more glasses. She shoved one into Tim’s hands before throwing her shot back. Her expression puckered before she opened her eyes, zeroing in on Jason. Her smile turned feline. “Well, well. This is a surprise.”  

His attention shifted over her shoulder to where you hung back. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. You met his gaze with a narrow look. God, he missed your blatant distrust.  

Steph clocked the tension between you immediately and decided to help by introducing you. “And this is Ja—”  

“Jacob,” he cut in quickly, “My name is Jacob.”  

His heart raced. While objectively the smart move, he’d just dug himself a bigger hole by giving you a fake name. Steph would never let him live this down, and Tim—Jason dreaded to think what Tim had to say about all this. He willed the ground to swallow him whole.  

“Have we met before?”  

He struggled to catch his breath. “Don’t think so. I just have one of those faces, I guess.”  

“Right.” You nudged Steph. “I’ll go wait for our drinks.”  

“Don’t forget to put it on my tab,” Tim insisted as you turned away. His knowing smile rankled Jason. He curled and uncurled his fists. A quick punch to the throat. That was all it would take to wipe that smug look off his face.  

“You knew it was her.”  

Tim shrugged as he downed his shot, confirming nothing, but this was Tim. Of course, he knew who you were.  

“Um, hello, am I missing something?” Steph flicked a damp curl over her shoulder. “Why are we using fake names? Unless that’s what you want to be called now? If so, I’m totally in support of your journey, though Jacob is a little basic. You look more like a—”  

Tim mercifully cut her off, “He can’t let her know his real name.”  

She blinked. “Why?”  

“Drop it.” Jason craned his neck to keep an eye on you. “It’s not important.”  

“If we’re changing our names, it’s gotta be somewhat important.”  

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Tim assured her.  

“Is it juicy?”  

“If by juicy, you mean kind of pathetic, then yeah.”  

Steph bounced giddily on the balls of her feet. “Oh my god.”  

Jason tuned them out as he settled solely on you. God, that jacket looked amazing on you. For a second, he imagined it was his instead. If it was, that bartender would stop looking at you with those heavy bedroom eyes. He was tall, but Jason was much taller. His skin was smooth and unblemished.  

Did you like that kind of thing?  

He glanced down at the discolored knicks and scars that marred the back of his hands. They didn’t bother him as much anymore. Each mark told his story. At least, that’s what Talia tried to instill on him when he lived in Nanda Parbat. You liked a good story.  

Fuck it , he thought as he abandoned them to head toward the bar. It was too late to pretend he never saw you, and there was no way he was letting this moment slip through his fingers. You did a double take as he sat next to you, effectively startling the bartender who had leaned across the bar to flirt with you.  

“A club soda with lime and a Coke.”  

He cleared his throat and moved to make Jason’s drinks.  

You studied him for a second, your expression unreadable. “Not drinking?”  

Jason forced himself to look at you. It had been easier with the helmet, but tonight, there was nothing to protect him from the full brunt of your gaze.  

“My friend doesn’t drink, so I don’t either when we hang out.”  

“I’m sure they appreciate that.”  

It wasn’t a direct compliment, but his heart swelled all the same. “Nah, it’s not a big deal. Drinking by myself isn’t all that fun.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I would know.”  

“I never assumed that you did.”  

He forced himself to laugh. It effectively killed the mood, and you turned back to the bar, seemingly content to have things end there. Jason was not, but he struggled to come up with something to say. His gaze fell to your jacket once more.  

“So, leather?”  

“Leather?” you echoed as you bit back a smile.  

“I mean, your jacket. It’s leather.”  

You feigned shock. “Really? I had no idea.”  

He choked on another laugh. Fuck, this was going a lot worse than he pictured it in his head, but he pressed on anyway, “I have one too.”  

“Yeah?”  

“I mean, I think it looks—” His head spun. “You look—”  

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. “And here I thought you left me high and dry.”  

Jason sagged with relief as Roy settled next to him, sparing him from the embarrassment of finishing that thought. His relief faded when Roy’s gaze shifted to you, his easy smile turning rueful.  

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?”  

“Not at all,” you said as the bartender dropped off your drinks. Two in front of you, and two in front of him.   

It barely registered, his beef with the bartender forgotten now that he was faced with the terrifying realization that every conversation with you ended in him acting like a bumbling fool. His mouth worked, but no words came out.  

“But I think he might be short-circuiting.”  

Roy chuckled. “Yeah, he gets a little shy around a pretty face.”  

You smirked as you sipped your drink. “Flirting on his behalf. Now, that’s a good friend.”  

Jason shoved him away, gritting his teeth. “Ignore him. We were just leaving. Sorry to both—”  

“Please. No need to stop on my account,” Roy insisted, ever the helpful one. Jason resisted the urge to smack him. “I think you were about to compliment her jacket, right?”  

“He was,” you agreed, “But I’ll spare him from doing so in front of you.” Your hand fell to his shoulder as you leaned in. Tequila sharpened your breath, fanning across his skin. If he turned his head just a fraction, you’d be nose to nose, your lips sinfully close. He stayed still as stone, shoving that mental image from his mind.   

You whispered in his ear, “If you want to try again, you know who I came with. I’ll even pretend this isn’t our first time meeting, Mr. Darcy.”  

Ice coated his veins.   

“A pair of glasses isn’t enough to fool me, though I’d be lying if I said you didn’t look good.” You squeezed his shoulder and walked away.  

He stayed facing the bar, too stunned to move, to speak, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing any more.  

“That her?”  

A low whine wrenched from his throat.  

Roy took a long sip from his drink. “Everything makes sense now. Your lifestyle has nothing to do with why you’re against dating. You suck at flirting.”  

“That’s not true.”  

“Did you hear yourself before?”  

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, fine, but that’s only part of it. I know all this stuff about her, but I can’t tell her that without looking like a weirdo. I want to do this right, but I don’t know how to begin. What do I do?”  

Insane that he was turning to Roy of all people for dating advice. He loved the guy, but his track record with women was not the best.  

“You could ask her to dance?”  

If Jason had pearls, he would have clutched them. “Have you lost your mind?”  

“Dude.” He flicked him between the eyes. “I know you haven’t had a whole lot of experience with flirting, but that —” He pointed to where you disappeared in the crowd. “That was a clear invitation to follow her. And if you play your cards right, you could end the night like them.”  

Roy then pointed to where Tim balanced precariously on another table. He dragged Bernard up with him this time, his mouth sealed over his in a sloppy kiss. Bernard held a beer in one hand as he grabbed his ass with the other.  

Jason averted his gaze. “Yeah, okay, let me try making it through a conversation without looking like a dumbass first.”  

“Whatever floats your boat, man, but this your shot. Take it.”  

He wiped his sticky palms on his jeans. “I thought you wanted to hang out with me.”  

“I can survive,” he insisted, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll call Dick so we can watch the shit show together.”  

“Dickie is too busy being Bludhaven’s golden boy to care about my non-existent love life.” Jason hadn’t heard from his brother in months, which was probably for the best. Things were easier when they didn’t talk. Reminded him of the days before he bit the dust.  

“I think he’d make an exception for this,” Roy countered with a sharp smile, “This is the best entertainment I've had in years. Now, I need to know how you bagged a baddie like Artemis. I thought you had hidden charm, but that’s clearly not the case.”  

Jason clamped down on his irritation. “Are you done?”  

“Almost.” Roy considered him thoughtfully. “Is it the curly hair? It must be, right? I can’t think of anything else that would—”  

“Roy.”  

He waved him off. “Alright, fine. I’m done now. Are you going to ask her to dance or what?”  

Continuing his relationship with you as Jacob wasn’t the worst decision he’s made where you were concerned. It was closest he’d ever get to being himself around you. No more skirting around under the guise of protocol or chance meetings on fire escapes. He could finally meet you halfway, on equal footing.   

He stood with hardened resolve.  

Roy clapped him on the back. “Atta boy. Go get her.”  

Anxiety prickled his skin as he headed into the crowd to find you. All the while, he tried to convince himself that this was an invitation and that you wouldn’t laugh in his face when he asked you to dance. He didn’t dance, but he would do it for you.   

Jason could picture it now. His hands dipping under that jacket to grip your hips, pulling you flush against his body as you moved to the music. Your breath mingling with his as he pressed his forehead to yours. Words had betrayed him tonight, but he could make his actions count.  

He caught a blur of red hair, then blonde hair, then the outline of a man who was undoubtedly half-Kryptonian. He found Tim’s entourage, so that meant you had to be—  

Someone laughed.   

It grated on his ears, warping until it bordered on hysterical.  

Something snapped inside him.  

It couldn’t be his laugh, he tried to rationalize.  

He was rotting in Arkham.  

He closed his eyes, starbursts painting the back of his eyelids. They looked an awful lot like explosions. His breath shallowed as he pressed his palms over his eyes in a vain attempt to shove the image from his mind.  

No.  

No.  

No .  

Not here.  

Not now.  

He staggered back as a familiar panic twined through his chest.  

It was suddenly too loud, too bright, too warm—like fire. Flames. He smelled smoke. He tugged desperately at his collar, but it failed to alleviate the tension in his throat.  

Suddenly, he was moving.  

A chill it into his skin as he exited the club. Where he went, he had no idea, but he needed to get away. Somewhere quieter, somewhere darker, somewhere that didn’t remind him of that night.  

Eventually, he sank to his knees, slush and snow soaking through his jeans as he willed his head to stop spinning. He focused on the ground, the feel of the rough asphalt under his palms. He counted his breaths. One, two, three —all the way to ten . His fists tightened as he held his breath, then released the tension on the exhale.  

His vision felt too sharp, too real, but his mind finally slowed as he slowly regained control of his body. He released another shaky breath, tears in his eyes.  

Jason hadn’t had an episode this bad in a while.  

Small things could trigger him—like forcing himself into a packed club with all that stimulation. God, he was an idiot to push himself like that. He should have left when Roy suggested it.   

Roy.  

He abandoned him.  

Fuck .  

On top of everything, he was a shit friend too.  

Anger twined with his shame and fear. He punched the ground. And again. Over and over until his knuckles bled. His next breath broke on a sob as he folded in half, his forehead pressed to the concrete.  

To think, he almost fooled himself into believing he had a chance at something normal—something good. Things would never pan out between you two. You deserved someone better. Someone less fucked in the head. He distanced himself for a reason. This was why.  

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

A/N: Haha. That was fun until it wasn't. Until next time!

[shorelinessightlines]

- short maxiel ficlet [UNFINISHED] -

Daniel is a shit cook.

That is one of the first things Max learns about him, right after the fact that Daniel is eight years older than him and nestled just before the knowledge that Daniel had sex with Sebastian Vettel.

It’s a strange roster of information, but Daniel is perhaps the strangest person Max has ever known.

Max happens across the particular character trait of “Terrible Chef” after his first race with Red Bull. They are in Daniel’s hotel room, because Christian told Daniel he had to watch after Max and “make sure he doesn’t get shit-faced, for fuck’s sake, he’s barely 18.”

Max does not think this is fair. He has already been 18 for months.

Daniel does not seem to this is fair either, because he has been sprawled out face-down on the only bed and grumbling to himself for the entire time they've been alone. Max is standing at the side of the bed, in case Daniel starts to suffocate.

Daniel has not suffocated for half an hour. Max does not know if this is impressive or not.

His stomach grumbles. Max hasn't had anything to eat since before the race. It's been eight hours, and the hotel minifridge doesn't come pre-stocked.

Against his better judgement, he pokes at Daniel’s shoulder. “Daniel,” he prods, feeling self-conscious. “Daniel.”

Daniel makes a sound that probably indicates annoyance. “What do you want,” comes out irritated and muffled by the pillows. Daniel's Australian accent further muddles the words, so it becomes more, "Waddya wah," and Max makes an educated guess from there.

Max shoves against his shoulder lightly. “Can you please—can you get up?”

A brief pause, as if Daniel is considering it. Then, “No.”

“Daniel, if you suffocate, Christian will yell at me.”

That gets him to lift his head, expression twisted into something that looks both incredulous and annoyed. “Christian would not yell at you,” he says, sounding offended. “Christian would yell at me for suffocating in front of you. Christian doesn't have a bone in his body capable of yelling at you.” He sounds very angry about it, which Max does not get.

"I do not think I understand."

Daniel looks impossibly angrier. "Don't play dumb with me," he grits out. "That was my win"

Max tilts his head. You should have driven faster, then, he wants to say.

"I am sorry," he says instead, as sincerely as he can, because Daniel is his best chance at dinner for atleast a few meters. He is not sorry in the slightest. He doesn't understand why Daniel cannot accept that Max is sometimes the favorite, and that if Daniel were as good as Max is, maybe Christian would like him more.

Daniel narrows his eyes. "Bullshit." Then, he drops his head back into the pillow and continues not suffocating.

Max shoves at him again, harder this time. "Daniel, you are being unfair. Get up."

Nothing.

He tries again, practically trying to roll him over. His teammate is decently heavy, though, so Max is really only able to shove him around and wrinkle the sheets. "Daniel," he says. "Daniel, come on. Make me dinner, or something, at least."

“Oh my god, mate,” Daniel groans. “If I do, will you leave me alone?”

Max considers the idea. “Yes,” he concedes. Daniel rolls out of bed so quickly, he's almost offended.

"What do you want?" He says, pulling on his socks. Max shrugs. He has no idea what Daniel can cook. "Okay, instant ramen, then."

Max is about to ask if Daniel is going to the convenience store, when the Australian opens his suitcase to reveal a wrinkled suit, three pairs of underwear, a retainer case, and two packets of instant noodles.

(i ran out of steam and didnt finish :( didn't want to let this rot in my drafts tho)

[rivereverie]

My one major issue within Astarion's romance storyline (spoilers)

TLDR: player shouldn't have to sleep with him in act one to initiate the romance.

(also please correct me if I'm wrong about this being the way the romance triggers. All the information I found said that the act 1 intimacy scene is necessary)

First of all, this just locks you out of romancing him unless you’re a very particular kind of person. On my playthrough, my character is not at all the type to sleep with him casually, but I went through with it because I very badly wanted to see his romance storyline. 

So let’s examine what leads up to the scene. Astarion, upon meeting the player, recognizes power in them and thus someone who can help protect him. He comes up with his “nice, simple plan” to seduce the player in order to get them to trust and care for him. This makes complete sense for his character, as he sees his main and perhaps only source of value being what he can offer physically. It’s what he knows how to do, and so in this crisis situation, of course it’s what he defaults to. The fact that he propositions the player is not what I have a problem with. It’s the fact that they have to say yes in order to further the romance, or else they’re locked out of it. 

On a practical level, I can understand what the thought process behind this might have been. Having a character proposition the player, being turned down, and then coming onto them again in the future might make them come off as a pest, which can make a character majorly unlikable. However I would argue this can be worked around because it is made very clear that the first encounter with him is meant to be a purely casual intimacy. Having a confession scene later where he proposes something more sincere would feel completely different, offering something new rather than not taking no for an answer. 

But the game forces you to accept his offer if you want to further the romance. This leaves the player in an uncomfortable position no matter what. There are two intimacy scenes possible in act one, the first being his high approval scene that can trigger whenever, where he makes the offer and the player can choose. Skipping this one does not lock you out of the romance IF you do sleep with him at the Teifling party afterward (if I’m not mistaken). The Tiefling party version of the scene is much much better if you care about him as a person, in my opinion, because he keeps the fact that he sees it as a transaction to himself. In the high approval scene, he outright says, albeit flirtatiously, that this is a reward for letting him drink your blood. Him presenting the encounter that way feels very icky if you say yes. So while it’s very in-character and a very honest and raw portrayal of how his trauma has affected him, it leaves the player in a bad position. 

Now, this plot point is crucial to his overall story, yes. He needs to initiate this kind of pandering to the player character, trying to seduce them and get their trust and loyalty. My argument is that this can be done *without* the sex scene. If I were to rewrite this scene, I would have it that he invites the character to the woods after the party in a more ambiguous way unless you yourself bring up the topic of sex. Then, when you’re both there having your private conversation, you can choose to decline his advances. He could become puzzled and maybe a little annoyed and say something like “why did you come here, then?”. The player could then have the option to respond with “I wanted to get to know you better” or something. This could be a really sweet and heartbreaking moment to look back on after you learn more about him. Give him a genuine moment of confusion in this scene, because it challenges what he thought about himself and other people; someone doesn't want him just for his body, and they also want to get to know him as a person. This would probably be a confusing and difficult feeling for him. He’d mask it quickly, of course, but still. Then, there could be a nice moment between them where they just have a cute conversation about anything. Maybe they could even just make this scene into a slightly different version of his scars scene the morning after. He showed up shirtless after all, so the player could go on to ask him about that and it could be a wholesome bonding moment. This would allow the player to show interest in him without it being explicitly sexual, but also not locking you out of the romance route with him. Also it’s asexual friendly. On a narrative and emotional level, this serves basically the exact same purpose as the sex scene(s), with the exception of the regret and moral greyness, which I think the player should be able to avoid anyway if they choose. Especially upon replays, this forces the player to engage in something they know is not an enjoyable experience for him, in order to trigger his romance storyline, which I think is kind of wrong. 

Interesting point here, though: If you’re playing as origin Karlach, then you can't sleep with him at first without, you know, burning him to a crisp. The romance plays out the same otherwise, PROVING MY POINT that it’s not necessary. In this version of events, they just “talk and fall asleep”. This would be exactly what I wanted. I just really wish this were an option in any other case.

I'm too demisexual for this.

[clevercatchphrase]

Hey, can I ask what is with the whole thing about rebloging something or you'll block, them, just curious?

Empty blogs, especially with default avatars, no descriptions, or custom header images, look like bots. You don't look like a real living person using tumblr, just a mindless account probably running some computer script in the background to help generate indirect engagement to other non-tumblr websites to trick search engines into thinking those websites are getting more traffic than they are so they show up higher in search results.

Also, (and this is far more impprtant imo) tumblr's main primary function as a website is to share/reblog posts that its users enjoy and find interesting. Reblogging posts helps more people find and enjoy them too ('Cause lord knows the search function can only get you so far). Tumblr memes and inside jokes live and die on the whims of people reblogging them, building upon them and transforming them. Fandoms on tumblr thrive or starve depending on how much people engage and reblog posts. Legitimately informative posts that provide resources and guides to help marginalized groups can only reach those marginalized groups if people bother to pass them around. Sharing posts around is what makes tumblr fun and function. It's the whole point of the blogging website.

Now, I feel I need to make a disclaimer that I don't want anyone to think that I demand everyone who follows me has to reblog MY specific posts. I just want the people who follow me to reblog something, ANYTHING on this site, so I know they're alive and at the bare minimum using the website for it's indended purpose of collecting and sharing things they like and enjoy. Sharing and expanding on posts is what makes tumblr tick! It's what makes the site worth coming here for! If you're gonna have a tumblr blog, please, at least use it as an actual blog!!

[zoeoe-sims]

Flower Arranging Mod V2.0 Testing!

Took a little longer than expected after my last post but v2 of the flower arranging mod is here! Because it's been so long since the last released version, as well as when I actually worked on the bulk of this update, I would really appreciate some people testing it out before I upload it officially.

Just FYI, this post isn't rebloggable because I don't want this testing version to be spread around too much, just in case changes need to made for the official v2.0 and it causes confusion.

More information about the update and for those who want to test it below.

Key Features:

Better flower arrangement selection menu. Instead of the insanely large pie menu, you select an arrangement from a dialogue window. You can reorder them, filter by flower, and view either all learnt arrangements or only available ones. You can even see a thumbnail of the arrangement, as well as what flowers are required and what you have already!

More effects from arrangements. Arrangements now have categories (Basic, Joy, Romance, Wedding, Funeral, Insult) and sims will react differently to them (new moodlets) depending on the type and their personality.

Scenting arrangements. If you figure out the requirements, sims can change the properties of arrangements to make them be fresher for longer, change their category, or provide life-giving/deathly effects!

Skill Journal Additions. You can track your stats, and complete two skill challenges for flower arranging perks.

Things that are not there (not that important, skip paragraph if you don't care :p):

Like I mentioned in my last post about it, in order to get this update out of WIP purgatory I had to not get caught up in too many features big or small. This includes having an autonomous version of the interaction, and some things that don't work quite as polished as I'd like. I've also had a few comments/messages on things like selling the arrangements in a business situation, and an issue with the arrangement ending up in a family inventory, as well as other random things - these are things I'd like to look into but it probably won't be for a while. I do plan on going through the MTS comments, and any messages people have sent me with issues/ideas so I can make a list and address them when I work on this mod further. If you have already messaged or commented about something, please feel free to do so again to make sure I don't miss it. Also custom dreams and self employed career - I started working on both these things and they would be so cool but that's like v3.0 so...

Info for Testers:

Because it's a big update, I recommend testers make a backup of your save just in case there's an issue, particularly with replacing an older version of the mod and even more so if you don't have nraas error trap. And make sure to delete your scriptCache!

I didn't come across any big problems, but I also didn't have a very established flower arranging situation going on. If you do, it would actually be helpful to know your experience with arrangements made pre-update and anything else that might be affected.

Finally, I don't want to spoil anything for people who want to explore the special scented arrangements feature organically which is why I didn't go into detail about it, but if you want to just be told how everything works so you can test it more directly, let me know.

Testing version of flower arranging 2.0 here (SFS)

Thank you!

[chezmad]

Opposites attract

Pairing: Pre-borderlands Suguru Niragi x Female reader

Summary: Ayumi and Niragi wordlessly agree to spend their study time together, developing a routine. During their time together, Niragi tries to pick Ayumi apart to discover what her intentions are.

Warnings: Again not much (we are getting there) mentions of bullying.

Part 2 Routine ✰

-

The next day, Niragi showed up early at the library. Not that it would change anything, but he knew what awaited him. He assumed Ayumi wouldn’t be there yet. And if she were, she'd probably be sitting in her usual seat, which was slightly further away from his. However, upon arrival, Ayumi sat with her work sprawled out next to his usual seat.

A smile grew on Niragi’s face. He was excited to see her, which wasn’t a feeling he usually got when he knew he’d have to interact with someone else. He hadn’t quite figured her out yet, but for now, he viewed her as a genuine person.

When Ayumi finally noticed him, she gestured for him to come sit.

“Hey,” Ayumi smiled.

“Hello, how are you?”

Ayumi picked up on the fact that he was stuttering less than yesterday—an indication that he felt more comfortable.

“I’m tired. Hopefully, you can keep me awake for the next three hours.”

He wondered how conversation slipped so easily off her tongue. She even made someone like him feel like he had something to say.

“How are you?” she asked sweetly.

“I’m good, thank you.” He said quietly, giving her a quick glance. He placed all his books onto the table before sitting.

Ayumi grabbed one of the books that had slightly slid her way.

“You study law?” she asked, shocked that he studied such an intense subject.

“Oh, sorry—” he said, while reorganizing his books on the table.

“Yes—um, it was my parents' choice.”

Niragi cringed at the unnecessary information he’d spilled out of awkwardness.

“Well, you must be smart; otherwise, they wouldn’t have put that weight on you.”Ayumi tried her best to stay positive.

“You know,” Ayumi started, “I major in linguistics, and my parents are very disappointed in me.” She moved one of her linguistic books in Niragi’s direction.

“Oh, why’s that?” Niragi asked, guessing it was because it wasn’t a parent favourite.

“They don’t think I’ll be able to find a job once I’m finished. But throughout my time in school, the subjects I was best at indicated that—” Ayumi pouted her lips as she thought. “I’d be best at linguistics.”

Niragi had concluded so far that Ayumi was a strong woman. She could speak for herself and clearly went against her parents' wishes—something he could never do.

“Well,” Niragi tried to think of what to say, “I think it’s an interesting subject. I’ve never met someone who studies linguistics.”

Ayumi smiled to herself, feeling acknowledged and appreciated.

“Thank you,” she put her hand on her heart.

“Anyways, stop distracting me, Suguru.” She turned back to her work, tucking her hair behind her ear.

As the pair smile to themselves as comfortable silence fell between them. This gave Ayumi time to think.

She noticed Niragi only spoke when spoken to. He didn’t ask questions or begin conversations—not because he was rude or didn’t care, but because of a lack of confidence.

Niragi was a victim of bullying, and he always had been. He’d dealt with it throughout his entire life—from peers to adults, to anyone who noticed that his weaknesses outweighed his strengths.

He didn’t want to be weak; he just never had anyone in his life to guide him. No one to tell him that he didn’t need to put up with the bullying. That’s why he listened to his parents and studied law. He admired Ayumi for her confidence to rebel against her parents’ wishes.

Only on the second day the pair had already began a routine.

Niragi packed his books away at 4:30 p.m. Ayumi stood waiting, leaving her books scattered on the table.

They silently walked to the café, ordered their coffees, and again, Niragi insisted on paying.

They took a silent walk back and began studying again.

6 p.m. rolled around, and the two packed their bags.

“Are you going to be here tomorrow?”

Ayumi asked, already knowing the answer.

Niragi looked down at her, her bright, puppy-dog eyes looking back up at him. His face flushed at the long eye contact he accidentally held.

“Uh—Yes, 3 p.m.”

Ayumi enjoyed the effect she had on him; she could tell her simple actions made him nervous.

She gave that little flirty wave before turning around without a word and leaving.

Niragi watched her delicate steps as she left the library. The atmosphere felt empty, the temperature feeling colder now that she was gone. The only indication she was ever there was the heavy, perfumed air.

He walked back to his dorm feeling the bite of the cold, he thought of all the responsibilities he had to complete when he arrived at his dorm. The laundry, making food, the dishes, organizing his revision notes. However, he could not construct a plan because his mind was occupied. He found his thoughts wandering back to Ayumi.

He couldn’t reason it; he could think of one possible explanation as to why she would want to bother with him.

She was confident, and from what he had witnessed of her on campus outside of the library, she was popular.

Maybe she thought he was a normal boy outside of the study sessions—that he had friends and a social life. Niragi died a little inside when he imagined what she’d think if she witnessed him getting bullied.

He hoped that would never be the case, because anyway, that’s partly the reason he stayed so late in the library.

He was hated by the boys at his university. In fact, they had a target of his body shape marked in an alleyway. And whenever they caught him while he was walking back to his dorm, they would line him up against the wall and hurt him in all types of ways.

Punching, hitting, pushing, spitting. Their favorite was to take turns trying to hit him in the face using a baseball bat and ball.

At the time, Niragi couldn’t explain to Ayumi why he packed his books away to only get a coffee, but it was for this very reason. He was tormented. Anything he could do to minimize his chances of being targeted, he would do.

He didn’t expect Ayumi to understand, nor did he want her to know. He liked how he had presented himself to her so far, but it would only be a matter of time before she found out.

All it would take was one of the boys finding out about his after-school study sessions or her walking past him on campus while he was actively bullied, unable to protect himself.

The endless worries kept him awake, his hands constantly brushing through his hair in stress.

It was new, he thought to himself. It had been two days, and he was already stressing about how yet another friendship was going to be ruined.

This stress was going to kill him.

In contrast, Ayumi lay in her pink bedroom, music playing at a low volume. She rolled onto her stomach, almost love-sick with the thought of the cute boy she’d somehow squished into her routine.

Tags: @so-dramatic1

Authors note: Second chapter complete! Niragi will come around guys trust me. Smut will be added in further chapters however i’m taking it slow to really show the contrast between pre-borderlands Niragi and Canon Niragi.