#really should stick to the frustrated posts that no one likes if I'm going to keep a low profile around here :P

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[ohcorny]

How I Made the Colors in Hunger's Bite So Good

first of all: buy my book. buy it and look at the colors. (if you cannot buy the book, ask for it at your local library or i GUESS you can look at these spreads i posted)

we're gonna talk about colors, but more specifically we're going to talk about overlays. if you're an artist you are probably familiar with overlays. we love our overlays. we love to color a picture and then at the very last minute go 'hm. looks bad. i'm going to put a yellowish overlay on it to make it look less bad :)'

do not do this.

i mean you can, and it'll work sometimes, but all you're really doing is tricking your brain into thinking different is better. you've been staring at the image for potentially several hours. none of the choices you made at the beginning mean anything to you anymore. you're just finishing what you started. one of the big reasons you might look at your art and go 'man, this doesn't look that good' is because You drew it and are intimately familiar with it. you know all the flaws and mistakes because You made them and You know what your vision was. one of the great frustrations with art is that the piece in your head doesn't look like something you actually made. you want it to look like somebody else did it, so you can enjoy it as a viewer, not as the creator.

so when you put that overlay on, and suddenly the image looks very different, your brain will go 'this doesn't look like the thing i've been staring at for 2-3 hours! this is different! now it's good!'

and again, sometimes it Is good. but do you actually understand why it's good? or is it just different?

okay so what am i supposed to do smart guy

i'm glad you asked. the trick to making overlays work is to have them on from the start. this requires knowing what mood you want to convey in your scene from the very beginning. hopefully you know what mood you want to convey. you do, right? and i don't just mean happy or sad, i also mean safe, threatened, familiar, strange, soft and harsh. blue is not always sad. green is not always healthy. yellow/orange are not the only way to convey a companionable warmth.

okay did you pick the mood? do you have an idea of what color you want to use to represent that mood? great. i'm gonna use blue to convey the cool, clean white of a ship's maintenance corridor without making things literally white. and i'm going to stick in two characters whose color palettes consist of bright yellow, brown, and wine red. awesome. i definitely know how those colors would behave under blue lighting.

(here's the thing: no i don't.) this is where a gradient map correction layer comes in. i want my page to be Blue. alright. let's make a gradient map that's Blue.

a gradient map is basically just A Gradient with specific colors connected to specific values. you have your darkest values on the left, and your lighter values on the right. at 100% opacity, this gradient map layer will read the value of anything below it and go 'okay this bit is this dark, so it should be This shade of blue. and this bit is this light, so it should be This shade of blue'.

kind of like a hue or color layer except determined by a gradient rather than one color, so it could also go 'this is light, so it's green' and 'this is dark, so it's purple'. it's math. i don't really get it either. but anyway this is probably not what you want if you want your characters' palettes to be recognizable. emery's sweater is supposed to be a wine red! neeta's skin should be brown, and her shirt should be yellow. these are their Key Colors. generally, i want them to be recognizable. so let's lower that opacity down.

nice! you can definitely now see that emery's sweater is red and neeta's shirt is yellow. and everything is relatively balanced. nothing is too saturated, nothing is significantly brighter than anything else. it's all got a little bit of blue in it. but i've skipped the step of actually picking your colors. because here's the thing with gradient maps.

they hate you and want to fight. when working with gradient maps you must imagine there is a monkey sitting on your shoulder dumping paint in every time you pick a color. the monkey has a tube of blue and he is going to put that blue into everything you paint, but it's not normal paint. it doesn't mix, it overtakes. it won't turn something yellow into green, it will turn it blue. it wants everything to be blue. if you want something to look like the color it's supposed to be, you will have to make it extremely saturated under the layer to essentially fight the paint monkey's blue. hence, emery's sweater is a BRIGHT red, so it will look a little more purpley under the blue. and neeta's skin is very orange, so it can be dulled down into a soft brown.

this is the sort of thing you will have to learn by feel, because it will be different with every gradient map, especially if you start getting into weird ones that aren't monochromatic. you want to know one of my favorite maps to use?

i have memorized where on the value scale all of these colors appear. i can color something using only shades of gray when i have this filter on. i am evolved. if you want to use gradient maps effectively, you'll have to get a lot of practice.

anyway this post got really long and i'm about to go to a movie so i'll talk about how to use screen/multiply/overlay layers later. but gradient maps are the main tool i used to make hunger's bite's palettes so unified across scenes. but you can see way above how they work to turn insane saturated colors into the nice harmonies--and the trick is that i'll never see those saturated colors while i'm working. because i have accepted the paint pouring monkey into my heart, and i trust him. except when i'm coloring wick's coat. holy mother of god every gradient map hated that man's purple coat.

[wolverigrl]

The Red Carpet Confession

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: Here's another try! Please let me know in the comments if you liked it and if you'd like to have a part two? :)

Summary: Hugh and y/n are rumored to be a couple and the two are figuring out their relationship.

The movie that the next parts are about is fictitious. It's a Marvel movie in which y/n plays one of the main roles as a Lady Deadpool variant.

Time period around 2015. Hugh's divorce fictitiously occurred here a year earlier. Hugh is 46, and y/n is in her late 20s.

Warnings: literally none, only some light fluff but nothing more!

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The energy at the movie premiere was electric—the buzz of the crowd, the flashing lights, and the excitement in the air. Hugh’s hand rested comfortably on the small of my back as we made our way down the red carpet. Every now and then, I found myself leaning into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort that came so naturally between us. I glanced up at him, admiring the familiar crinkles around his eyes when he smiled and those laugh lines I adored so much.

We had come a long way since our first meeting at one of Ryan’s infamous dinner parties, where Blake introduced me to Hugh. Some months later I found out that my ex fiancé cheated on me. That night was a turning point for me. Blake, always the caring friend, had rallied Ryan and Hugh to come over with takeout and wine, determined to cheer me up. The four of us spent the evening in my living room, talking, laughing, and simply being there for each other.

Hugh had been a quiet comfort, sitting beside me as I cried, his arm around my shoulders. At one point, Ryan insisted on taking a selfie—our eyes a little red but smiles plastered on our faces. We posted it with the caption:

>>vancityreynolds: Friends who stick by you, no matter what ❤️<<

It was a moment that solidified our friendship, and from there, Hugh and I only grew closer.

Over time, our bond deepened. We started working out together, pushing each other to new limits. One day after an intense session, we snapped a photo—both of us sweaty, grinning, and flexing our biceps. I couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption:

>>y/n instagram: Who needs a gym partner when you’ve got The Wolverine pushing you?<<

The post went viral, and the fans went wild. The comments were full of playful speculation, with people shipping us hard.

>>loganskittycat: You two should just get married already😩<<

One fan wrote, while another cheekily commented:

>>carllax03: Are we sure this is just a workout partnership? Because I’m seeing serious couple vibes here🔥<<

I remember laughing about it with Hugh, but the truth was, there was something between us—something neither of us had fully acknowledged.

Things got even more intense after Hugh's separation. I made sure to be there for him, offering whatever support I could. We spent a lot of time together during that period, just talking, laughing, and working out our frustrations at the gym. He was hurting, and I wanted to be the friend he could lean on. But every time we were together, those buried feelings would start to bubble up again, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

There was that one time I posted a photo of us at the beach in Australia, where I had visited Hugh some days after he told me of his seperation. We were walking along the shore, deep in conversation about the breakup, his children, life and relationships, when the paparazzi caught us.

The next day, the headlines were full of speculation, but what really made the fans go crazy was Hugh's comment under a selfie of us at the beach:

>>thehughjackman: The best view in Australia, and I'm not talking about the ocean 🌊<<

The internet literally exploded with fans shipping us even harder than before.

>>catpool3000: Okay, if you two don't date, the universe is seriously broken😩<<

>>marvelboyx: He's flirting right in front of us! This is not a drill guys!<<

I found these fan comments so amusing and laughed it off, but the truth was, Hugh had become someone I couldn’t imagine my life without.

As we continued posing for photos on the red carpet, I couldn't help but remember the time we ran into a group of fans during another walk, this time back in New York.

Hugh and I had been grabbing coffee when a few fans approached us asking for photos. Hugh was, of course, his usual charming self, chatting with them, making them laugh, and posing for selfies.

One of the fans turned to me, a little shy, and said: "You're so awesome, y/n. You and Hugh are just the best! Your energy is amazing."

I smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you, sweetheart, that means a lot. Hugh makes it easy, though. He's got the charm down to an art."

Later, those fans posted the selfies on social media, gushing about how kind and down-to-earth we both were. The most comments were full of love and support, with many noting how natural Hugh and I seemed together, how much they 'shipped' us. It was sweet, even if it was a little overwhelming.

The speculation about us had been growing for months, especially after that interview with Jimmy Fallon, where Ryan and I were guests. We were there to promote the new movie, and naturally, the conversation turned to the camaraderie on set.

Jimmy Fallon, ever the curious host, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "So, y/n, what was it like joining such a big, well-established cast for the first time? Did you find it easy to get along with everyone?"

I nodded, smiling at the memory of my first days on set. "Honestly, I was a bit nervous at first. I mean, these guys are legends." I said, gesturing to Ryan.

"But they made me feel so welcome right from the start. It felt like I was joining a big. slightly dysfunctional, but very loving family."

Jimmy grinned. "And was there anyone you got particularly close to? I mean, everyone's shipping you with Hugh Jackman after those workout posts."

I chuckled, trying to keep my cool. "I mean, Hugh and I did spend a lot of time together. We bonded over our love for fitness, and he's just such an easy person to get along with. But really, the whole cast was amazing."

Fallon wasn't done yet. He leaned in closer, his tone playful. "But come on, Y/N, who was your favorite on set? Who was the person you looked forward to working with the most?"

Before I could answer, Ryan leaned over, placing his hand dramatically on his chest. "Oh, come on, Jimmy, we all know I'm her favorite," he said with a mock pout. Then, as if sharing a secret, he turned to him, cupping his hand around his mouth like he was about to whisper.

"But between us, it's the Aussie. It's always the Aussie."

The audience burst into laughter, and I playfully shoved Ryan's shoulder.

"You wish!" I said, unable to keep a straight face.

Ryan shot me a wink. "Hey, you don't have to deny it, y/n. We all know how much you love Hugh's, uhh workout routine."

I rolled my eyes, laughing along with the audience. But deep down, Ryan's joke hit a little too close to home. Because as much as I tried to brush it off, there was a growing part of me that knew he was right.

Now, as we walked the red carpet together, another interviewer caught up with us, asking the question we'd been dodging all night. "Hugh, y/n. The internet is buzzing with rumors about your relationship. Care to set the record straight?"

My heart skipped a beat. I glanced at Hugh, and he met my gaze with that familiar, playful glint in his eye. He leaned in, his voice low and teasing, as he spoke into the mic,

"We've certainly spent a lot of time, and we do get along really well."

Hugh and I exchanged a quick look, a silent understanding passing between us.

"We've had some pretty intense workouts together." I couldn't resist adding.

The double meaning wasn't lost on the interviewer or on Hugh, who shot me an amused look.

The interviewer pressed on. "So, is it safe to say you're more than just friends?"

Hugh grinned, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief. "I think we'll leave that up to your imagination."

The reporter laughed, realizing we weren't going to give a straight answer. "Fair enough. But you two certainly know how to keep us all guessing."

We thanked him shortly after, said our quick goodbyes, and moved along the red carpet to the next interview.

Another reporter greeted us, smiling, and started right with the conversation.

"Y/n? Hugh, you two have been quite the talk of the town with your workout posts. Can you tell us a little more about your training and diets while preparing for the movie?"

Hugh grinned and nudged me playfully. "Y/n here is a beast in the gym. She's got more discipline than anyone I know, and she doesn't let me slack off."

I laughed, nodding in agreement.

"Hugh's being modest. He's the one who keeps me on my toes. It's hard not to be motivated when you've got The Wolverine next to you, pushing you to do just one more set.

The interviewer chuckled before shifting the conversation to a more private topic.

"And y/n, with your costume being so form-fitting, what kind of uhh.. support did you have underneath?”

The question caught me off guard, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Before I could respond, though, Hugh stepped in, his expression turning serious.

"I think that’s enough for this interview. Thank you for your time." he said, his tone polite but firm, effectively ending the conversation.

The reporter looked taken aback but quickly recovered, thanking us for our time before moving on. As we walked away, I felt a surge of gratitude for Hugh’s quick intervention. Without thinking, I placed my hand on his chest, leaning in close to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you."

He smiled down at me, his eyes softening as he replied.

"Anytime, darling. Anytime."

As the last flashes of the cameras faded and the final questions from reporters dwindled, Hugh and I finally stepped off the red carpet. The air was buzzing with the excitement of the night, but it was the thought of the after-show party that truly had me giddy. Hugh could sense my anticipation and chuckled, his arm still comfortably wrapped around my waist as we made our way to the venue.

Inside, the party was already in full swing. The room was filled with a dazzling array of celebrities, all mingling and celebrating the movie. My eyes widened as I spotted a few of my own favorite celebrities across the room, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Hugh noticed my reaction and gave me a teasing smile.

"Someone’s excited." he said. His voice was warm with amusement.

I laughed, unable to contain my enthusiasm.

"Can you blame me? This is like a dream come true! There are so many people here I’ve admired for years."

Hugh shook his head, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, affectionate smile. "It’s adorable seeing you like this, y/n. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself."

We made our way further into the party, the music and chatter surrounding us. It didn’t take long before we spotted Ryan and Blake, who waved us over from a corner where they were chatting with a few other familiar faces.

As we joined them, Blake greeted us with a warm hug.

"You two were fantastic out there." she said, beaming. "How many relationship questions did you get?"

Ryan grinned, leaning in with a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, did they finally get you to confess?"

I exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before we both laughed. "Oh, you know, we kept them guessing." I said, shrugging lightly. "It’s more fun that way."

Hugh nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "We might have let a few things slip here and there, just to keep them on their toes."

Blake raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You two really enjoy this, don’t you?"

"Maybe a little." I admitted with a grin, feeling a little mischievous. "But in the end, it’s our story to tell—or not."

Ryan lifted his glass, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, here’s to keeping the world guessing, then. And to the best workout partners in the business."

We all clinked our glasses together, the sound of crystal ringing out as we toasted to the night and everything that had led us to this moment. The conversation flowed easily, with laughter and banter filling the space between us. As I stood there, surrounded by friends who had become like family, I felt a deep sense of contentment.

As the night wore on, we mingled with other guests, and I let my inner fangirl come out to play, much to Hugh’s amusement. He watched with a fond smile as I excitedly chatted with some of my favorite stars, his laughter echoing in my ears when I returned to his side, gushing about the conversations I’d just had.

Blake nudged him playfully, a knowing look in her eyes. "You’ve got your hands full with this one, Hugh."

Hugh just laughed, looking over to me, while I was talking to Ryan. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

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Next part

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale, misogyny and the female character treatment

I don't know if anyone wrote a post about this but I see from time to time comments to this end - that Aziraphale is treated like the female leads in films often are, obviously especially romantic films. So I'm gonna try to point how I see this. I welcome further insights of course.

Say we take a basic premise of a romantic film: A girl is wooed by a bad boy for example. And she is a good girl, from a good, proper family and everything so she refuses his advances. This goes on through his various ploys to entertain and romance her, do things for her etc etc and frustrates us as the audience because we can see the bad boy is actually good, her family is oppressive and holding her back and that she (deep down) cares for him (if only she was brave enough to admit it to herself) and so we want her to open her eyes and say she is actually in love with him cos her life will be so much better should she (finally) give in and run away with him.

Familiar? Reasons Aziraphale is not her and the analogy does not fit (but that I so often see in metas and takes about her):

Aziraphale always knew her family is shit. Or at least longer than Crowley did. She was already anxious in Before the Beginning about what she thought Angel!Crowley could and could not say or do without getting into trouble.

She knows Crowley is good. She never doubted him. Whatever he says or does or pretends to do or must do for his job. Aziraphale knows he's inherently good and would always do good if he can.

She knows she's in love - I mean we can argue about when each realised this and also when each realised the other loves them back just as fiercely, but they both know. And they both love. And they both long to be together. Aziraphale is not ashamed of her feelings nor hiding or suppressing them for fear they are wrong or immoral or other BS like that.

Aziraphale doesn't need to overcome her love for her family/employer and finally make the leap to be with Crowley. They simply can't leave their bosses without punishment. Neither of them. They live in a dictatorship with nowhere to go. And just because Crowley experienced both sides, doesn't give him some huge insight that Aziraphale completely lacks. Both places are awful. Their separation isn’t about fear of societal judgment (or Aziraphale's unwillingness to give up Heaven, being seen as good, being an angel - and to what end, to Fall? I really don't know what takes like this want from her, it would not work anyway), it’s about survival in a system that won’t let them be together.

Aziraphale doesn't want to change Crowley. She never did. She asked for Crowley to come to Heaven as an angel because that was THE ONLY option she had for them to be together in any capacity at that point. It was NOT an attempt to “fix” him—it was a desperate bid for a way they could be together at all.

One thing I don't see as much anymore is the call for Aziraphale to change. Obviously she's pretty but she would be prettier if she lost those century old clothes maybe and started listening to something made after 1950? Be more cool to match Crowley? Less stuffy?

These kind of film premises are already pointless, offensive and make me roll my eyes, but to stick them all over Aziraphale and huff cos she doesn't do what the clever sexy man in dark clothes and sunglasses says she should - well that makes me angry.

And so do takes and mischaracterisations that ignore Aziraphale as silly, her worries as pointless, sometimes excessive - maybe she's just hysterical, you know? The one time she shows more emotion, in F15, she is so often completely ignored in her obvious distress just because Crowley is trying to confess his love at the same time and seemingly 'not getting through,' because Aziraphale is not reacting the way everyone expects. So many takes that always assume Crowley is right, no matter what. Even when he calls Aziraphale an idiot. If Crowley says that, it must be true. No matter that the book spells out in Terry's voice that the angel is extremely clever.

Aziraphale’s charm lies in her kindness, her love for books and knowledge, her whimsy, and her quiet courage. These qualities don’t make her naive—they make her resilient. She often hides how she truly feels, hides her grief, her pain, her true desires, hides what she really thinks; always always to protect herself and her beloved. She is often forced to say stuff she doesn't mean. Again. To keep the one she loves and their fragile relationship safe. But where people seem to catch on with that on Crowley's side, they don't with Aziraphale. She is fierce when pushed and will defend the defenceless (humans) and the ones she loves (Crowley) to her last breath (whether she needs to breathe is irrelevant right now okay).

She loves her bookshop. She built this home, full of knowledge for herself and her demon and you can take this HC from my cold hands. That she was forced to leave it, only emphasises how little choice she had in Final 15. Good Omens has two main, equal characters; who are both gorgeous and complex and deep and neither is right or wrong or in need of saving or learning some huge lesson to get to their goal and be together. What needs to change is the world, the system they live in. And they will change it. P.S. Just to add, many, many (if not all) bad takes on Aziraphale are also bad takes on Crowley. They mischaracterise and misunderstand just how deeply and unconditionally he loves Aziraphale. How he adores her and understands and accepts her just as she is. He does not expect or want Aziraphale to change in any way. He knows why they are not together. And it's not Aziraphale's fault, it's because of circumstances, not because of her choices. Crowley would never ever want Aziraphale to suffer, he wouldn't expect her to come back from Heaven saying how sorry she is for what happened, how stupid and blind she was and how he was always right. That's just not going to happen. ------------------------------------------ @tenok I simply must highlight the awesomeness you put in hashtags!! EVERYBODY please read:

Thank you sm for this!!

[allisluv]

saved by the bell.

summary: finnick helps reader during a sensory overload (based off a request i can't find in my inbox </3)

pairing: finnick o'dair x wife!reader

content warnings: post-rebellion, implied neurodivergent!reader, sensory overload + overstimulation, mention of finnick's mutt attack and as a result finnicks scars, reader has hair long enough to tie back, reader accidentally snaps at finnick but it isnt intentional and she does apologise and finnick forgives, fluff, mention of noise-cancelling headphones, comfort, teasing, fluff, not edited (what a surprise)

a/n: been a while since i posted on here, life was hectic i'm sorry! this is based off my own experience during a sensory overload, but not all are the same!

To mark the one year anniversary of the war ending and to commemerate the lives lost during the rebellion, you and Finnick send out invites asking all of the surviving victors to visit District Four for a small get-together. Its nothing fancy, just finger food and conversation. A celebration of life, Finnick calls it.

Everyone RSVP’s to let the two of you know that they will be attending, and it doesnt take long for Finnick to start planning activites and dragging you along for weekly trips to the farmer’s market to buy supplies for the party.

On the morning of the party, you realise that it’s going to be rough from the get go. Finnick is up with the sun, as he so usually is, and you wake not long after him. The bed is empty without your husband by your side, and it makes your heart ache with loneliness.

You turn onto your side and wince when a stream of sunlight drifts in through a gap in the curtain. Your head feels like it’s going to explode at the brightness, and you’re quick to bury your face into Finnicks pillow. You breathe in his scent in an effort to ground yourself, but all it does it send your senses into overdrive.

A sad, pitiful whine gets caught in the back of your throat as you roll onto your back, glaring at the specks of paint on the ceiling. “Why today?” You grumble, burying your face in your hands as you will yourself to hold it together, if not for yourself, for Finnick and the others.

It takes a while, but eventually, you gather the courage to stand. The floorboards feel cool beneath your feet, and it is such a stark contrast from the sweat pouring out of your pores that all it does it make you want to rip your skin clean off your body.

Sucking in a deep breath, you shuffle towards your closet and begin rooting through it in search of something light to wear. Finnick and you had went shopping for new outfits specifically for today, but the prospect of wearing that particular fabric right now makes you want to claw your eyes out of their sockets, so you settle on a sundress that you have previously deemed as safe to wear when you’re in the midst of a sensory overload.

Once you’re dressed, you tie your hair back out of your face so it doesn’t stick to the back of your neck. Your skin is clammy and damp, and realistically, you really should have taken a shower, but even thinking about it makes your frame hum with irritation.

You flap your hands in an effort to rid yourself of the nervous energy that has taken refuge in your body. When it does little to soothe your weary mind, you plant your hands on your hips and let out a frustrated huff.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by your husband’s voice calling you from the kitchen. “I’m coming!” You call, smoothing out the creases in your sundress before steeling yourself for today, and slipping out of your bedroom. You’re still in your bare feet when you stomp down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Finnick is balancing on a kitchen chair by the entranceway, a roll of triangular-shaped bunting in one hand and a box of thumb tacks in the other. He arches an eyebrow at your foul mood, and your stomping. “Everything okay, angel?”

You brush him off with a dismissive wave of your hand. “I’m fine. What did you need?”

Finnick doesn’t miss the edge to your voice, but he decides not to push it. “Could you hold these thumb tacks and hand them to me when I need them? Or were you busy?” He asks, giving you an out if you need it.

“No, I can help,” You insist, already moving to stand beside him. “Just be careful on that chair. Its decades old.” You warn as you take the thumb tacks. Finnick starts stringing the bunting up along the wall of the archway, and you let out a sigh. “Why do we need bunting, anyway? Dont you think it’s somewhat over the top?”

“Look, I didn’t survive those mutts not to celebrate today.” He teases. “After all those god-damn physio sessions, I deserve bunting if I want bunting.” He pauses. “And Jo’s gonna ask the question you just asked, so you better have my back when she does.”

You roll your eyes fondly and relent. “Alright, alright. If you want bunting, we can have bunting.” You hand him a thumb tack and roll your shoulders back uncomfortably. Chicken curry is stewing in the slow-cooker, and it’s making the kitchen stuffy with heat.

Finnick’s always been observant, and he catches the small movement of your shoulders almost instantly. “Are you sure you’re okay, angel?”

“Mhm.” You shrug non-comitedly and pass him one more thumb tack.

He doesn’t seem convinced, and the second the bunting is secured, he hops off the chair and has a hand on your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing. Come on, angel. Talk to me.”

As if on cue, the doorbell goes and you let out a relieved sigh— you would have likely cracked and admitted the truth if he kept pushing.

Saved by the bell.

“I’ll get it,” You say, pecking his cheek and moving quickly to answer the front door with Finnick hot on your heels.

The door swings open and Johanna struts inside, shooting a smug look over her shoulder at Annie and Katniss. “See? Told you it would be open.” She brushes past both of you into the kitchen. “Oo. Something smells nice.”

Katniss rolls her eyes, and Peeta nudges her in the ribcage, prompting her to say hello. Haymitch, Annie and Enobraia all exchange greetings with the two of you as you usher them inside.

“You know, you should really keep that door locked,” Beetee says as he envelopes you in his arms. “Did you know there are approximately three thousand burgarlies a day? Thats two every minute. And I bet you more than half of them are due to people leaving their doors unlocked.” He explains nonchalantly as he follows the others into the kitchen.

You rub the back of your neck anxiously, feeling your skin crawl at all of the physical contact you had just endured in the last thirty seconds.

Finnicks eyes land on you and he inches closer to you, but doesn’t touch. “What’s going on with you, angel?” He asks gently. You open your mouth to brush him off but he cuts you off. “And don’t feed me another lie about you being fine. I’m able to read you like an open book. Just tell me whats going on in that pretty little head of yours, okay?”

You grit your teeth in an effort to stay calm. You’re not angry at him, you’re just overwhelmed. Its all too much; the noise from the kitchen, the lights, the heat, Johanna calling out into the hallway about the bunting, the smells of the different food. Which is why you don’t mean to snap, but you do. “Just get off my back, alright? I said I was fine.” You snap, brushing past him into the eye of the storm— the kitchen.

Finnick blinks, momentarily stunned by your outburst, until it dawns on him and he follows after you. He pulls you to one side from where you’re pretending to listen to Enobaria. “Excuse me. We need to talk.”

“What—”

“Now.” Finnick says firmly, but not unkindly, as he steers you by the elbow back into your shared bedroom. He closes the door once you’re both inside, and leads you to sit down on the edge of the bed. He crouches down in front of you, resting his hands on his knees, and asks, “Are you having a sensory overload?” You avert your gaze and that’s all the answer he needs. “Do you need space or do you want me to hold you?”

Your bottom lip trembles and you clamp your teeth into it to stop it from wobbling. “Can you hold me?”

Thats all the confirmation your husband needs. He sits cross legged on the floor and tugs you into his lap. “Loosely or tightly?” He murmurs into your hairline.

“Tightly.” You answer. “Please.”

Finnick tightens his hold on you and presses a kiss to your forehead as your breathing starts to even out and you begin to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble.

“For what?” Finnick asks, kissing your temple once more.

“For snapping at you. It wasn’t fair.”

“It wasn’t,” Finnick agrees. “But you were overwhelmed, and you were stressed. I forgive you. No hard feelings, alright?”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Do you want to come back outside? We can get you your noise cancelling headphones, that way it might be easier to deal with the noise. How does that sound, hm?”

You hesitate. “Johanna’ll make fun of me.”

“Johanna makes fun of everyone,” Finnick points out.

“Fair point, well made.”

“But if she says anything, I’ll fight her.” He cradles your face in his scarred hands and giving your nose a playful tap.

“Will you win, though?” You tease.

“You know it, angel.”

[crazybiscuit]

Uptown Girl

Chapter 1

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you. Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead". Word Count:  2313 Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider! A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process. On another note, chapter 2 should be posted on the 28th! Chapters: 2

 

“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.

“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in some pub.”

You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”

You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if she couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fools who can’t maintain our estate.”

You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.

The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.

“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”

“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he casted another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you considering your situation.”

You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know. I'm sorry. This is all just… I really miss him and this is all so frustrating.”

Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.” 

Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.

“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”

Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”

They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.

You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.

You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.

By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.

“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”

His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”

The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”

“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”

“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud rococo decor scattered around the room floor, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”

“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”

That dumbfounded the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.

You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him dig through his bag for his notebook, “How long will it take you?”

His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…”

It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it this way.”

Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”

His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.

It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him, so to entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you’d write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.

The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather: Rain was always such a nuisance.

You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything… Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”

The last part was mumbled in French under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”

“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.

Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.

He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.

You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and nightgown, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”

You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.” 

“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.

“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”

He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”

His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice. Whatever beasts gave you those scars did nasty work–”

He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”

He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.

“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.

“Remus.”

It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.

“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.

Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”

“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.

You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”

Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”

Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your  jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our Autumn Equinox party on the 22nd.”

Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”

[cloud-somersault]

I talked about an AU idea on twitter and I'm gonna cross post that idea here. I'm tentatively calling it "Black Candles AU" but that probably won't stick (watch it stick)

i had an idea for an AU that takes place in the world of LMK but there's no JTTW or anything. Just the setting. In the AU, Wukong is an emissary of the Jade Emperor (he has 3 emissaries). His tasks usually include mundane things: delivering messages to other realms, gathering reports, all that stuff. He's basically an errand boy, but don't tell him that or he'll get mad.

Wukong also has special privileges since he's the Jade Emperors favorite out of all the emissaries (the other two being Nezha and Erlang). He gets more freedom to be reckless and lackadaisical. He's pulled pranks, caused mischief, classic Wukong stuff. He's known by all the divine because the Jade Emperor raised and cared for him. He still has magical prowess and physical combat skills since he was trained in the Celestial Realm.

So, he's pretty popular. Hot shit. (In a good and bad way.)

Wukong decides to take on an apprentice out of boredom (enter MK), and the Jade Emperor allows it because he's here for anything that keeps Wukong distracted and out of trouble (there are slow times when he isn't sent out on jobs as much). Wukong's apprentice, MK, is also a celestial being, just younger. So, Wukong is training MK to one day be an emissary of some kind. They'll figure out for what later on.

So anyway, they're training together in Heaven, and having a chill time. They get along really well. But one time, their training goes a bit too far, and MK accidentally breaks a hole in the wall of an administrative building that causes the roof to fall, too. The Jade Emperor is furious.

Wukong takes the blame for it so MK doesn't get punished. But Wukong's punishment is that now his missions will also require him to go to the Underworld.

The Jade Emperor has been lenient so far, letting Wukong get away with missions just in the celestial or mortal realms -- no longer. Now he's gotta go to the Realm of Death. Wukong doesn't like this because he finds death and everything about it to be creepy and scary, hence it is the perfect punishment for him.

Wukong is sent to deliver an item to the Underworld.

Wukong isn't supposed to look into the packages when he's delivering something, but he's curious about this package being sent to the Underworld. He looks inside and it's just...a candle. What the fuck? Why is he traveling all the way down there to give a candle? This is bullshit.

But he has no choice but to go. He's scared as fuck because of the rumors about the Underworld and how ruthless and terrifying it is. Those rumors were spread by divine beings who've never been there, but regardless, Wukong is spooked.

When he arrives at the gates of the Diyu and announces himself, the gates open and black smoke pours out. There is no light. There is no path. Wukong uses celestial magic to create a light but there's nothing to see. He just has to walk through the darkness until he finds something.

He does this for a while. He changes directions in hopes that he'll run into something; he never does. Getting frustrated, Wukong suddenly sees something in the distance: a single candle with a flickering blue flame.

It's the only thing he's seen since being down here, so Wukong walks toward it. He approaches the candle and looks around to see if there's any other clue to what he should do. Should he just leave the package here? But he lifts his head and sees another candle a little ways away.

He follows the path of blue candles until he finds a grouping of them. There's tall and short candles, all lit with blue flames. There's flowers, too. And...a gravestone. The only thing engraved upon it is a symbol Wukong hasn't seen before.

There are no more candles leading him further into the darkness. Wukong decides to leave the package here and hopes that whoever is in charge of the Underworld will see it. He places the package on the ground, and immediately, the box catches on fire, leaving only the candle behind.

Wukong doesn't know what the fuck that means, but he takes it as his task being completed. But when he tries to turn around, he can't move his legs. He can't turn his head. He's stuck in this crouching position and only his arms and hands can move.

The fuck? How is he supposed to get out of this? Wukong tries to force himself out of this hold, but he realizes it's manipulation magic. The intention of the spell is clear: Wukong is meant to do something to the candle with his hands, and there's really only one thing he can do.

Wukong grabs the candle he brought with him and lifts it toward one of the lit ones. The wick catches the blue flame and lights. Wukong sets the candle down to join the others, and he hears the sound of an echoing laugh behind him.

"Hot damn," the voice says. It surrounds Wukong, so he can't tell where it's coming from. "I thought that old geezer was going to ignore me for eons. I guess he's letting bygones be bygones?" The voice pauses, then comes back to echo right behind Wukong's ear. "Oh? And someone new? Never seen you before," the voice says, intrigued. 

Wukong is scared shitless. "I'm just here to deliver the Emperor's package. I'll get out of your way--"

"No need for that," the voice interrupts. To Wukong's right, a path of candles light the way to a black door covered in red flowers

"I haven't had a visitor in three thousand years," the voice informs with a laugh. The grey door opens and purple smoke eases out of the doorway. "Stay, won't you?" 

The voice leaves Wukong's side and transfers to the doorway, amused laughter seeping out with the smoke.

Wukong's first instinct is to run, but since that manipulation spell was cast without him even sensing it, he's dealing with a powerful person, and he needs to tread carefully. Much easier to play nice. Plus, he is a little curious; the divine weren't sure just who ruled the Underworld.

The spell is gone now, so Wukong can move freely. He could leave, but he doesn't chance it. He follows the path lined with candles up to the black door. He carefully pushes it open to get a better look at who's on the other side.

The room is filled with piles of red, black, and violet cushions and floor pillows and haphazardly thrown blankets. There are no windows in the space, but there is a small table wedged in the corner with scrolls and ink. But Wukong's gaze is fixated on who lies at the heart of it.

A being--the ruler of Hell?--sits in the middle of this mess, legs crossed as he reclines on a large pillow. His silhouette is made of wispy smoke and his face is covered by a large, red wide-brimmed hat with black crystals dangling on it. All Wukong can see is a violet eye peering at him.

Another laugh, and the voice settles into a normal range. "Well, aren't you something," the being remarks, eye sparkling with delight. 

Wukong swallows. "A-are you...?"

"The King of the Diyu, ruler of the Underworld." The being smiles wide, mouth nothing but violet light.

"...Oh." Wukong says dumbly. "Well, I--"

"I already know your story," the King says, and as he does, smoke circles Wukong's person. "An emissary of the Jade Emperor himself. It was stupid of him to send you down here, and with only one candle, no less. How stingy of him."

"Uhm?"

The King sits forward, the shadows on the wall wearing smiles of their own. "I've decided," the King tells him, "to keep the prized gem of the Jade Emperor."

Wukong's eyes widen in realization.

"You are staying here with me."

The black door slams closed, and all of the candles go out.

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[bloomingdayswithyou]

I'll throw a request your way. How about a embarassed Gladion asking his bf to mend his clothes after type null training.

Stitches of Love

Pairing: Gladion x m!reader

Words:

Warnings: maybe a bit ooc, and just cute fluff<3

A/N: so... it's really been a while🧍🏻‍♀️ actually sorry for that :(( hopefully I'm back but I'll post slower than before! At least until I finish with all the requests

Also I was thinking of changing my writing style a bit, so I tried with this one!! Hope it's good enough :)

The Alolan sun was setting, painting the sky in vibrant hues of orange and pink. m/n was lounging on the couch in their shared apartment, scrolling through his phone when he heard the familiar sound of the front door opening.

"I'm back," Gladion's voice called out, sounding a bit more hesitant than usual.

m/n looked up, a smile already forming on his face. "Welcome home! How was training with-" His words trailed off as he took in the sight of his boyfriend.

Gladion stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed a deep red that had nothing to do with the warm Alolan weather. His usual black outfit was in tatters, with several large tears across his jacket and pants. His blonde hair was disheveled, sticking up in even more directions than usual.

"What happened?" m/n asked, jumping to his feet in concern.

Gladion averted his gaze, his blush deepening. "Type: Null got a bit... overenthusiastic during training today."

m/n crossed the room, reaching out to inspect the damage. Gladion flinched slightly but didn't pull away as m/n's fingers grazed the torn fabric of his jacket.

"Are you hurt?" m/n asked, his eyes scanning for any signs of injury.

Gladion shook his head. "No, I'm fine. Type: Null would never actually harm me. It's just..." He gestured vaguely at his tattered clothes, his embarrassment palpable.

m/n couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. But your outfit has definitely seen better days."

Gladion groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "I know. It's ridiculous. I should be able to control my own Pokémon better than this."

m/n placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. Type: Null is a powerful and unique Pokémon. It's natural for training to be challenging sometimes."

Gladion gave him a small, grateful smile, but m/n could still see the frustration in his green eyes.

"Thanks," Gladion murmured. Then, hesitantly, he added, "I, uh... I was wondering if you could help me with something."

m/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn't often that Gladion asked for help. "Of course. What do you need?"

Gladion fidgeted with the hem of his torn jacket, avoiding m/n's gaze. "I was hoping... maybe you could help me mend these clothes? I know it's a lot to ask, but I don't really have any other options right now, and I can't exactly go out like this..."

m/n's heart swelled with affection. Gladion, always so independent and proud, was asking for his help. He knew how much it must have cost him to do so.

"I'd be happy to help," m/n said warmly. "Why don't you go take a shower and relax? I'll see what I can do with your clothes."

Relief washed over Gladion's face. "Thank you," he said softly, leaning in to press a quick kiss to m/n's cheek before disappearing into the bathroom.

As the sound of running water filled the apartment, m/n gathered his sewing supplies and set to work. The damage was extensive, but not irreparable. He carefully stitched up the tears, his fingers moving deftly as he thought about his boyfriend.

Gladion had come so far since they first met. Back then, he had been closed off, wary of forming any connections. But slowly, patiently, m/n had earned his trust. He had seen the kind, passionate person beneath Gladion's tough exterior. And now, here they were, sharing a life together.

The bathroom door opened, and Gladion emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, falling softly around his face without its usual styling. m/n couldn't help but admire the lean muscles of Gladion's chest and arms, a testament to his dedication to training.

"How's it going?" Gladion asked, peering over (m/n)'s shoulder at his handiwork.

"Almost done," m/n replied, tying off the last stitch. "They won't be perfect, but they should hold up until we can get you some new clothes."

Gladion took the mended outfit, examining m/n's work with a critical eye. "This is... really good," he said, sounding impressed. "Where did you learn to sew like this?"

m/n shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the praise. "Just picked it up here and there. It comes in handy sometimes."

Gladion slipped on the repaired clothes, adjusting them slightly. They fit well, the stitches barely noticeable unless you knew where to look.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice soft and sincere. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

m/n stood up, wrapping his arms around Gladion's waist. "Probably walk around in tattered clothes," he teased gently.

Gladion laughed, a rare, unguarded sound that never failed to make m/n's heart skip a beat. "Probably," he agreed, pulling m/n closer.

m/n leaned into Gladion's embrace, breathing in the clean scent of his shower gel mixed with something that was uniquely Gladion. "You know," he murmured, "you don't have to be embarrassed about asking for help. Not with me."

Gladion was quiet for a moment, his arms tightening around m/n. "I know," he said finally. "It's just... not easy for me. But I'm trying."

m/n pulled back slightly to meet Gladion's gaze, seeing the vulnerability in those green eyes that he rarely allowed anyone to see. "That's all I ask," m/n said, reaching up to brush a strand of damp hair from Gladion's forehead. "I love you, Gladion. All of you – the strong trainer, the dedicated brother, and yes, even the guy who sometimes needs help mending his clothes after a tough training session."

A smile tugged at the corners of Gladion's mouth, soft and genuine. "I love you too," he whispered, leaning in to capture m/n's lips in a tender kiss.

As m/n melted into the kiss, he knew that no matter what challenges came their way – be it difficult Pokémon training or torn clothes – he and Gladion would face them together. And really, that was all that mattered.

.

.

.

[mikeyp16]

Adding onto my previous rant cuz these tags refueled my fire for a more cohesive rant.

First off: People call Planes 2 a Cars 3 ripoff?? HUH??? Where TF is that argument coming from? But I guess it ties into the second point, I've also noticed a lot of people are so quick to dismiss both Planes movies really easily, (not helped by cartoon reviewers who also dismiss these movies)

I’ll state my bias, I personally enjoyed Planes more as a kid, and have fond memories of them. Are the Planes movies perfect? No, but they are just as valid films as the Cars movies. plane kids deserve movies just as much as car kids.

When it comes to critiquing the films there are some valid critiques but most people don't go that route to justify their hatred for the films. First if you’re going to critique the films you should at least categorize it correctly.. Like people calling it a ripoff are not just wrong because of how different Cars and Planes are, they’re also wrong because Planes is a Spinoff. It takes place in the same universe that follows different characters and a different area of the world. Forgive me for bringing up the controversial franchise but that's like calling Helluva Boss a Ripoff of Hazbin Hotel, like that’s just not true??

Secondly, Planes and Cars have very different themes and the protagonists go on very different journeys, and I feel like people calling Planes a copy is a by-product of people missing the whole point of Cars 1. 

Cars 1 isn't about racing. What I mean by that is the film doesn't really revolve around McQueen preparing for and participating in a race like most racing films do. Yes there is a time between the three way tie and the tie breaker race, but McQueen spends that time in Radiator Springs, fixing the road he broke. Along the way he learns to slow down, appreciate the smaller parts of life, that you can't always be a one man show and that winning isn't everything. The King even foreshadows the Lesson Mcqueen is going to learn at the end of the intro race. McQueens conversation with mater and later with Doc are both good examples of McQueen maturing as a person, being less of an asshole and letting people help him. When he loses his mojo and motivation for the race you can literally see it come back when he sees his friends and by implementing what he’s learned from Doc. At its barest bones, Cars is about a celebrity learning to be humble and winning not by physically passing the line, but by being a good sport. That is the theme and message of the first Cars. 

Planes on the other hand is more of an underdog racing film. Being about Dusty trying to overcome what those around him keep telling him to be. Throughout the film Dusty is almost always constantly being reminded he’s a crop duster, he isn't built for speed and that he should stick to crop dusting. He’s told this so much it frustrates him, and you can see this in his conversation with Skipper when he gets chosen. (i used that clip on the previous post)

You can tell in his voice that Dusty is frustrated, he KNOWS he’s a crop duster, he doesn't need people to keep telling him he’s very much aware of that fact. But you can tell he’s un fulfilled, he’s tired of doing the same thing for years as he’s put it, he wants to race because he wants to fulfill a dream of his, in his home you can see the racing posters and figures to show how important this dream is to him. At the start of the film his goal isn't really to win, but to prove he can do it. It's here where the two films’ themes really diverge. 

Like I've mentioned Planes does have some genuine critiques, like the weird military ending (not even I can explain why) or the plot hole surrounding Skipper’s time in the navy yet only having one medal? Even if he did only one mission I'm sure he would have had a few more, considering the age he’s implied to be? Like he would have had to do quite a bit before becoming a flight instructor correct? I do love Skip but i think they tried to re-create Doc’s Backstory when in context it doesn't really work, keeping your racing past a secret is different than repressing your military service, etc, But these are conversations for another day

My point with bringing these up is that some people when critiquing Planes tend to dismiss it as a cars clone and call it a day or pull points that arent relevent to the film, this is especially true with Planes: Fire and Rescue, ( PFR ) and comparing it to Cars 3

First, saying this is a copy of cars 3 is crazy, especially when Planes Fire and Rescue came out first,

Plus while in both films the MC is forced to stop racing, in Cars 3 McQueen keeps trying to prove he can still do it, Dusty essentially becomes disabled since his gear box is out of production and while he tries to go McQueen’s route to prove he still can race at first it doesn't work out.

On a surface level, the films are about how life doesnt always go the way we want it, but they handle it differently. While McQueen tries to continue the Racing life and prove he's still got it and eventually staying with Racing, in PFR Dusty physically cant but learns that even with his busted gearbox, he cant let it stop him from doing something esspecially when it comes to firefighting

This moment with Blade showcases this

This is what makes these films different, at least to me. and yeah my bias might be showing as I am not the hugest fan of Cars 3, but It annoys me that people "analyse" and critique Planes when they only under stand both Planes and Cars on a surface level. Or just go with what the cartoon reveiwers say about them. (Like saying Fire and Rescue is propaganda but we're not gonna go into that)

TLDR: Planes are underrated and people need to stop calling the films cars clones because it proves they missed the point of both

[currently-reading-a-book]

The Phantom’s Kiss

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: A brilliant FBI agent goes undercover to catch a phantom art thief—only to find himself entangled in a dangerous dance of seduction, secrets, and stolen hearts.

Genre: mystery, romance

Warning: kiss, art thief, seduction

Word Count: 994 words

Note: Hey cuties! I'm back. Sorry for being inactive for so long. Just had a creative writing block. This isn't my best work, but I really wanted to post something. So here you go! Also currently started my 5th book or smth (I really should stick to one and finish a draft)

A/N: As always, any criticism is very welcome. Sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. English is not my first language. Not proofread.

Anyway, enjoy :)

✧ 🎀 -------------------------------------------------------------- 🎀 ✧

A ghost. This art thief was a ghost. Spencer couldn’t think otherwise. One moment he was there, and the next—gone. Gone with the art. The exclusive, prestigious art. His job was to catch the thief… but how do you catch a phantom? Someone who doesn’t exist?

Spencer Reid adjusted his cufflinks nervously, his heart pounding as he stepped into the grand foyer of the city’s most prestigious art gallery. Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked every bit the part of a wealthy art enthusiast, but his mind was focused on the mission.

As an FBI agent, Spencer had been assigned to work undercover to catch an elusive thief who had been targeting galleries across the city. Posing as a wealthy collector, he was determined to uncover the mystery behind the stolen masterpieces and bring the thief to justice. Just a simple job, he told himself.

The gallery buzzed with excitement as guests mingled among priceless pieces. The moon shone brightly through the towering glass windows, casting silver beams across polished marble floors. The building stood tall and modern in the heart of the bustling city. Spencer moved through the crowd, his keen eyes scanning for anything unusual.

“Art—it’s art that makes us feel the most, isn’t it?”

Spencer’s eyes widened slightly at the soft voice beside him. A beautiful woman stood staring at a Monet, her chocolate-brown eyes fixed on the canvas with an intensity that drew him in. She wore an elegant gown that hugged her curves perfectly. There was something about her—a mysterious, sophisticated aura, yet she felt oddly familiar.

He took a deep breath. He regretted it immediately. She smelled like heaven. He cursed under his breath.

“Yes… art is truly a gift. Most people don’t value it enough,” he replied, overwhelmed by the addicting scent lingering in the air. How would her lips feel? he wondered briefly.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” he continued, nodding toward the canvas, his eyes shimmering with curiosity.

With elegance, the woman turned to him and gave a soft, knowing smile. Spencer felt a jolt through his entire body. He needed to know who she was.

“Yes,” she replied in a melodic voice. “But beauty can be deceiving, don’t you think?”

And just like that, she was gone—melted into the crowd, as though she’d never been there. Like an illusion. Like a muse he’d imagined.

For weeks, the thief remained silent. Spencer grew frustrated—not only because the case had gone cold, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about her and their encounter. The mysterious woman haunted his mind, his body, his life.

Then, suddenly, the thief struck again. But this time, it was a less valuable painting—not consistent with the usual pattern. Spencer crouched in his fitted suit, examining a bit of dust beneath the space where the painting had hung.

“This was a clean and quick job… How did you do this?” he muttered to himself.

As he examined the wall, a familiar scent hit him. That same scent. His head snapped up—and there she was.

She smiled gently, her red lips teasing. Spencer stood quickly, brushing imaginary dust off his suit.

Could it be her? Could she be the art thief he’s been chasing? But it was her perfume at the crime scene. Her signature.

The biggest event of the year had arrived. Spencer adjusted his cufflinks nervously as he stepped into the grand foyer again. His hair neatly styled, his suit perfectly tailored—he blended in among the city’s elite collectors. But all he could think about was her. The woman from three weeks ago.

He was sure of one thing: the art thief would strike tonight.

“Good evening, Agent,” a familiar voice purred beside him.

Spencer froze.

She stood close—too close. Smiling like she knew everything.

His voice was barely a breath. “Who are you, really?”

“The phantom you’ve been searching for, my love,” she murmured, her red lips barely moving.

Spencer’s mind spun. She knew who he was. But how?

Her lips brushed his ear. “Come with me, darling.”

He should arrest her. His rational mind screamed it. But his body betrayed him. In a trance, he followed. He couldn’t help it.

She took his hand—his large, rough hand engulfed in her delicate one—and led him away from the crowd. Down an empty corridor, quiet and hidden.

“How…” his voice cracked, “How could you do this?”

She brushed her hands up his chest and pushed him gently against the wall. Her touch feeling like fire on his body.

“But darling,” she smirked, tilting her head, “it was so much fun playing with you.”

She kissed his neck—soft and slow. Spencer shuddered, unsure of what to do. His hands hovered before finding her waist. Her lips continued their trail upward. He groaned, torn between duty and desire.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, her brown eyes locked with his.

“What do you want?” she whispered. Her red lips teasing him.

Yes… what did he want? Maybe he doesn’t know. He just knows he needs her touch now or his body might burn.

“You,” he breathed, his back arching toward her.

She smirked. She knew she had him. Without warning, she kissed him—hard.

Spencer gasped, shocked by the intensity. He grabbed the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. He pulled her closer. Her tongue teased at his lips, and he let her in. Letting her consume him.

“I don’t even know your name,” he murmured against her lips.

“You don’t need to,” she whispered.

And just like before, she vanished into thin air.

Gone in an instant. Spencer stood breathless, confused, wanting more.

Leaning back against the wall, he exhaled deeply, his fingers raking through his hair in frustration.

But now he was sure. No matter what she did. He didn’t care.

He needed her.

His muse. His phantom. His new, dangerous obsession.

[queenrogah]

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 ― wi hajoon au.

₊˚⊹ᰔ summary: A well-known celebrity and his devoted manager cross the line between professionalism and desire when a daring photoshoot ignites unspoken passions—leaving them questioning where business ends and longing begins

₊˚⊹ᰔ pairing: wi hajoon x OC

₊˚⊹ᰔ tags: manager x artist romance, yearning (my fave), a bit steamy??

₊˚⊹ᰔ word count: 1.5k

₊˚⊹ᰔ a/n: happy valentine's day everyone! i really waited for a week to post this au on valentine's day and now here it is! my first wi hajoon au and i hope you guys like it :))

⤷ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Minhee had always been the perfect professional. At only 28 years old, she tirelessly yet passionately worked her way up in the entertainment industry to become one of the well-known managers out there. She's the notorious manager for one of the hottest models in this generation—Wi Hajoon. With that well-defined face features, expressive dark brown eyes, that toned masculine physique that makes him so charismatic to every gender in the world. Minhee is so grateful upon receiving this job and she's been going on with Hajoon for almost a year now. She ensures that Hajoon remains impeccable as she manages everything from different contacts and his media appearances.

Today, it's another day for a photoshoot for Hajoon. It's the photoshoot for the perfume he's recently endorsing. When they attended the meeting about the photoshoot, the staff explained that the concept will be daring, designed to exude sensuality and allure—and Hajoon is the perfect face and body for that type of concept.

Hajoon is already getting ready for the shoot, several staff working on him to make him perfect for the job. Minhee is just sitting by the corner, checking Hajoon's schedules and talking to the production team in this photoshoot as she also reports back to her boss.

The photoshoot soon started as Minhee watched Hajoon professionally handle it. She's been watching Hajoon model for every product and every magazine out there, but today, his aura is something else.

Hajoon is only wearing jeans and an unbuttoned top, revealing those toned abs that are perfect for the daring concept. Those intense eyes burning through the lens of the camera and his hand found the belt loop of his pants, slightly pulling the material down and he shows a bit of his v-line.

Minhee realized that she's been staring too long as she tried to distract herself on the props that are going to be used for the rest of the photoshoot.

“Alright! You're doing a great job Hajoon! Next concept is the kiss marks,” The creative director motioned the makeup artists to do their work, “Put it on his collarbones and his neck. It must scream desire personified.”

I heard Hajoon chuckled when the creative director said that last line. I watch the makeup team get the kiss mark stickers ready, but when they were putting it on him, they got a bit frustrated.

“The sticker isn't sticking that much, it can look too fake for the camera.” One of the makeup artists said to the creative director.

“Damn, it should look authentic.” The creative director stressed out, just knowing that the kiss marks stickers are not working now, and they're running out of time.

Hajoon, who is concerned about the production team, thought of some other way. He glanced over at Minhee, who is busy typing something on her laptop.

“Why don't we use a real person? Maybe my manager, Miss Minhee?” Hajoon suggested, his voice smooth as silk.

Minhee stopped typing on her laptop as she blinked, momentarily stunned by what she just heard, “Excuse me, what?”

“You heard me, Miss Minhee,” Hajoon said, a playful smile tugging his lips, “Besides, you're already wearing a perfect shade of lipstick. Why not help out?”

Everyone is now looking over at Minhee, those eyes pleading that she should help out, “But I'm his manager…” That's all Minhee could ever say.

The creative director pleaded, “Just this once Miss Minhee.”

Minhee closed her eyes and took an intake of breath, then she heard Hajoon stood up from the makeup chair as he walked towards Minhee.

“Come on Minhee, just for this shoot. It's just you and me being professionals…right?” Hajoon tilted his head as he smiled down at her. Minhee couldn't even hide her blushing face when Hajoon is literally standing so close without wearing a damn shirt.

Minhee still hesitated, thinking that this was wildly unprofessional—or she's just the only one calling it. But then again, it's just this once, just for this photoshoot. If a few kiss marks on Hajoon could save the shoot, maybe it was worth swallowing her dignity.

Minhee soon stood from her seat and with a deep breath, “Fine. Let's get this over with.” She said, trying to sound composed despite the intense fluttering in her chest.

Minhee was soon guided by the makeup artists as they gave her lipstick to make her put on. Hajoon is waiting on his seat, watching Minhee still has that hint of hesitation in her.

“If you're still not sure, I'll—”

Hajoon didn't continue his sentence when Minhee applied the fresh lipstick on her lips, the vibrant red accentuating her full lips. Minhee stood close to Hajoon, trying not to die in embarrassment.

“Just don't make this weird.” Minhee muttered, ignoring the way her heart raced.

“I promise.” Hajoon replied to her, his voice low that only she could hear.

Minhee took a deep breath as she finally leaned in and pressed her lips gently on Hajoon's skin. The first kiss mark bloomed against his skin, bold, and unmistakable.

Minhee moved methodically as she planted marks along his collarbone and his neck, each mark more confident than the last. Hajoon's skin is so warm against her lips, and despite her efforts to keep her composure, she can't help but still feel overwhelmed by the spark crackling between them.

When Minhee finally pulled back, she looked at her work and looked into Hajoon's eyes—which are already glued to hers.

The makeup artists interrupted their gaze at each other as they checked the kiss marks, signalling the creative director that it's perfect already.

“Thank you Minhee,” Hajoon softly said, his voice carrying a weight that made her stomach flip.

“Just doing my job.” Minhee replied, forcing a professional tone in her voice.

The shoot went on and Minhee went back to her work again. She can't help but steal glances over at Hajoon again, who is beautifully covered by the shape of her lips, showing off the alluring concept. When the shoot finally wrapped up, Hajoon thanked everyone who worked with him and treated them all with coffee and pastries.

Minhee waited for Hajoon to get himself ready to head back to his place for him to rest and soon made their way back to the car.

“You know what, you have a future for modelling lipstick brands.” Hajoon casually said.

Minhee snorted a laugh, “I’ll leave my job as your manager then.” She said in a playful tone.

Hajoon pouts, “Okay, I take that back.”

The ride back to his place is filled with that deafening silence and Minhee felt that heavy atmosphere between the two of them. When the car finally parked, Minhee watched Hajoon leave the car and made his way to his private elevator—but Minhee realized that she forgot to tell him about his schedule for tomorrow.

Minhee left the car as she jogged towards Hajoon, “I forgot to tell you that you have another media appearances on—”

“Maybe you should leave your job as my manager.” Hajoon suddenly said, his hand stopping the elevator from closing between them.

Minhee blinked in confusion, “What?” She was purely flabbergasted on what she just heard.

Silence stretched between them, thick and electric. The next thing that happened made Minhee’s heart skip a beat. Hajoon pulled her inside the elevator as it closed behind them. She became acutely aware of how dangerously close they were—the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around her senses. Hajoon shifted his gaze into hers.

Hajoon leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming Minhee. Before she could even second-guess, his hand slid around her waist, pulling her flushed frame against him.

“Hajoon, I—”

“I can't help but think of those lips,” Hajoon whispered, his lips hovering over hers, “I want to be your canvas again.”

This is the Wi Hajoon pleading to her and she can't help the unprofessional thoughts running in her head right now. He's everyone's fantasy and she's not believing that she made him feel this way.

The tension broke as Minhee found herself leaning in, their mouths colliding in a heated, desperate kiss. Hajoon's lips were soft but filled with demand, moving against hers with a hunger that left them both dizzy. Minhee tangled her fingers in his hair as he pressed her against the elevator, their ragged breaths mingling in the confined space.

When the elevator chimed, they broke apart, panting and wide-eyed. Hajoon calm down his senses as he kept staring at Minhee, who was also surprised on what just happened.

“I really wanted that to happen.” Hajoon said, breaking that silence.

Minhee glanced at him, “Do you really want to be my canvas?” A hint of desperation in her voice.

Hajoon caught that message as he leaned in to her again, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. The kiss right now is more intense than they shared earlier, Hajoon soon gripped the back of her thighs as he effortlessly picked her up, letting her legs wrap around his waist.

Hajoon pulled away from the kiss, “Do you really want this Minhee?” He made sure of everything that's happening right now.

“I hope I won't get fired.” That's all Minhee could ever reply to him as she kissed him again.

The moonlight casts a gentle light over the two people who found themselves craving for their touch for the longest time, and haven in each other.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here!!

So I'm a bit frustrated with some fans pages today. So my instant reaction is to put them in their place, but I'm gonna try to go at this in a different way. We all know that Nicola has achieved in her career. She's getting accolades finally. And people are upset because Luke did not comment on her social media post. They feel that he should comment something. I want to ask you the ones that are actively shitting on Luke consistently if you put all of your life on social media? When your friends are doing phenomenal, do you go to their page and congratulate them consistently? Is Your whole life lived on social media? No right. Social media is a tool used to share bits and pieces of your life. It is a five seconds snapshots of your life. I may like a picture of my friends but then text them or call them and give my congratulations. Or sometimes I like to do it face-to-face. We do know that they are shooting Bridgerton. We do know that Luke and Nicola are probably already shot scenes together. We do know that they have each other cell phone numbers. We do know that they hang out off camera. So why do we think he has not said anything to her? Luke seems to be the type of person that does actions. Like for example Nicholas said that Luke was the first person That wished her happy birthday. That means he beat JVN, JD, Douglas, Camilla. We also know that he gave her a camera that she cherishes. Which shows that he took his time buying that gift. He is a thoughtful person and we know this cuz of nic and jade. So really who is the social media comment for? It's not for Nic because I'm sure he can tell her to her face. No the social media comments are for the fans. That's all we want to see some type of interaction between the two and so we give him shit every time he doesn't comment because we want to see their interactions. I'm gonna say this doesn't owe us anything. He does not owe us a damn thing we did not stick up for him. And how do you know he hasn't thanked her in someway shape or form already in person? We don't know.

There is so much criticism when it comes to Luke. Every little thing he does is criticized to point where he's had to get off of social media or at least limit his interactions and that's because of fans. Luke gave us a phenomenal performance in his role as Colin. Then he gave us six more months worth of tours that we all cherish. What did he do so wrong that he consistently gets hated on? He dated a girl. He should not be held liable for somebody else's decisions and actions. Contrary to what people think Luke cannot control grown people. He cannot control their actions. He cannot control what they post. Yes, he didn't stop being friends with them. But He's also human people. He's known Rory for how long? Years it's not easy to break connections with people. Maybe I give a little grace to people because I am flawed myself, and I would hate to be judged the way that Luke is being judged. Sorry I went out a bit of a rent. It's just people are pissing me off. Thank you for the safe place to speak.

💯

Ok I have to get this off my chest... these are all just my personal feelings/thoughts on all this:

If he did he would have just gotten TONS of hate under his comment… N would have had to clean it up and it would have turned into being about him and not her accomplishment.

I'm pretty certain these two are spending a LOT of time together BTS currently... I'm sure he congratulated her!

Just because he didn't comment on her post doesn't mean he doesn't support her or is happy for her... and guess what, he liked it so the fans knew that. That man ADORES and ADMIRES N, NO ONE can convince me otherwise.

SM is NOT a direct indicator of what is going on BTS. It is such a small part of our lives.

[p1astri-driver1]

Serious question: why do you spend more time on hating Lando than on supporting the drivers you actually like? It's kind of sad how basically all your posts are Lando hate. I know you're still very young and it shows, I really hope you'll grow out of this negative mindset. Being a hater is not the quirky thing you think it is.

Also, your last post? Hilarious, thanks for the laugh

It's only fair for you to ask this if you've done the same to Lando fans, grown men and women on this app much older than me who hate on oscar so much worse than the light work I do here. I'm kind enough to stick to his racing and much of my posts are in response to his fans, I don't go around saying he should kill himself, that his mother should've aborted him, that his mother is an attention seeking bitch, and I've never put serious accusations on him. Something which I have seen his fans do on this very app. The top anti oscar blog posts hate every 2 minutes and has the wildest conspiracy theories on how McLaren is sabotaging lando, but that fits your agenda so you'll ignore that. To think I actually used to like Lando when I first started watching and these fans hating on Oscar in this way is exactly what made me start hating him, but start this blog as retaliation, and I'll never reach the level they do and I don't plan to.

This is my blog, I tag my posts appropriately, this is the only app I use to let out my frustrations and excitement about this sport, I don't like Lando, I won't pretend too I'm not the only one, this is a sport. He won't see my posts, and if you are his fan you shouldn't either unless you are actively searching the anti tag. I'm flattered you took the time to check my blog, but I've explicitly stated I don't like him at the front, so I don't really understand the point of you making an effort to ridicule me on it lol just block me.

[xomakara]

Crossing Boundaries

(re-posting from my old account seulrinnie-rinrin/xomakara-secondary)

SUMMARY | You are older than Wooyoung by two years and is best friends with his older brother, so you always saw Wooyoung as a younger brother. But Wooyoung wants to be so much more than a younger brother. PAIRING | Wooyoung x Reader GENRE/CONTENT | non-idol!Wooyoung, older!Reader, non-idol au, romance, fluff, smut, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex WARNINGS | A slightly older reader and younger man?? RATING | NSFW, explicit, mature, 18+ LENGTH | 8,033 words TAGLIST | — NETWORKS | AUTHOR’S NOTE | The noona in me is happy and glad to write this. Maybe the filthiest I ever wrote lol. Couldn’t exactly push to 10k but 8k words is still good enough lol

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

"What's the occasion?" Wooyoung looks at you sprawled out on his bed.

"No occasion. Just needed someone to talk to." You replied after making yourself comfortable. "Your brother is goofing off who knows where and you're the only person that's here in Seoul. I have nothing better to do."

"Did you get dumped?" Wooyoung asked, watching your face. "Again?"

"I dumped him this time!" You say, deciding to let some of the frustration out. "My god he really has no fucking clue what he wants. He likes me, but thinks I'm not good enough for him? How many times do I have to hear that idiot saying those things before it finally sinks into his head that it's wrong?! I deserve someone that can give me the proper love and care! Not someone that doesn't even know how to express his feelings properly or treat me right!"

Wooyoung could be that man. Be the man that gives you proper love and care.

But he knows that you don't think of him in that way. You only see him as a little brother since you're his older brother's best friend. He didn't even care that you were older than him by two years. To him, age was just a number. So to him, there wasn't any reason why he shouldn't have fallen in love with you. You're the girl he wanted most when he was young, but never got because he was too scared to make a move on you.

"The guy is an idiot if he can't see how perfect you are for him." Wooyoung says, leaning back against his desk chair.

"Ugh, maybe I should stop dating people." You sigh. "Maybe I should stick to just reading books from now on. No dating needed at all. Reading about romance in a book is much easier and much less painful."

"Come on, noona. There are other men that would gladly date you." Wooyoung says.

"Are your roommates single?" You turned your head to look at him.

"Why?" He raised an eyebrow at you. “Thought you just said that you’re going to stop dating.”

"I need to find a really handsome guy." You said. “Just so I can get back at that stupid bastard and rub it in his face.”

"Sorry Y/N-noona," Wooyoung shrugged. "But both Hongjoong-hyung and Jongho have girlfriends. And I'm pretty sure my other friends are taken too."

"Fuck. Why do all the pretty men have to be taken?" You complained, burying your face into Wooyoung's pillow. "Even your brother isn't single."

"Like you'd ever date your best friend." Wooyoung snorted, earning himself a glare from you.

"I might have thought about it before." You admitted, returning a snort of your own. "You know there was a time where every girl wanted your brother back in high school."

"Even you?" He laughed, pinching your cheeks. "So why didn't you go after him then?"

"Because your brother only saw me as his best friend." You sighed. "It took him a long time before he realized that I was actually attracted to him. And then he rejected me. And now we laugh about it whenever we meet up together."

"And there starts your origin story of getting heartbroken and dumped every time. Every story will start with Y/N going out with a cute guy, crushing on them, and being rejected." Wooyoung mused.

"Mhm." You agreed. "One day though. One day, everything will work out for me."

"Keep dreaming." Wooyoung teased.

"Fine, fine. It won't happen soon though. Maybe I'll die alone and unfulfilled." You groaned. "You're such a buzzkill, Wooyoung."

"But the world would be dull without me." Wooyoung replied with a laugh.

You sat up in his bed, running a hand through your hair. "Let's go out and drink. I want to forget about all this shit."

"Hm?" Wooyoung raised an eyebrow.

"Drink with me." You said, standing up and taking a step towards him.

"Alright, alright." Wooyoung relented. "Where do you want to go?"

"A bar nearby." You answered, feeling more excited than usual. "Something new, I've been to the same places over and over again."

"Alright." Wooyoung nods. "But don't be picking up random guys there! I'm not gonna deal with some drunk douchebag that's trying to get in your pants. If they try something I swear to god I'll-"

"Ohhh, is my Wooyoungie jealous already?" You asked with a chuckle. "Don't worry, this noona here won't be picking up any guys. Just come out with me and drink with me. You can even invite your roommates or friends. I don't care as long as I have a few drinks in me."

"Noona, you sure?" He eyed you suspiciously. "You're not just saying that to make me feel good, are you?"

"I'm positive." You assured him. "After breaking up with that idiot, I don't even want to deal with picking up guys anymore. That's the least of my worries. Now please come drink with me. Please?"

"Alright." Wooyoung said slowly. "I guess I'll go along with you this one time."

"Thank you!" You jumped up and down excitedly. "That's all I wanted to hear! You're the best Wooyoungie."

"Yeah, yeah." Wooyoung waved you away. "Let's go get drunk."

Wooyoung watched as you laughed at something Yunho was saying to you and he couldn't help but stare at the way your lips moved, forming each word and speaking with such confidence. He had seen you laughing before but never like this. Your eyes shone bright and it seemed like the whole room lit up when you did. Seeing you smile genuinely made him happy and he wished he could have frozen that moment right there.

"You like her." San suddenly stated, shocking him out of his daze.

"What?" Wooyoung asked, looking up at the person beside him.

"Y/N-noona." San repeated, narrowing his eyes. "The way you looked at her the last time we went out drinking, I knew it. You like her. A lot."

"You're delusional." Wooyoung shook his head. "She's my older brother's best friend. She's completely off limits."

"Off limits or not, you still like her." San said. "It's okay, you can admit it."

"There's nothing to admit." Wooyoung muttered, looking back at you and smiling slightly. "Nothing to tell anyone."

"Let me guess...She see's you as a little brother, huh? Is that it?" San gave him a disbelieving look.

"Stop it." Wooyoung sighed. "San, you're annoying me."

"Okay, okay." San said with a laugh. "I'll stop talking about your precious noona."

"Great." Wooyoung rolled his eyes before gesturing to you and Yunho. "Now that we have that settled, I think it's time for me to break up whatever is going on over there."

Your laughter was angelic to his ears. The sound calmed him and the sight of your genuine happiness warmed his heart. All he wanted to do was stay there forever, basking in the bliss that is your smile. How lucky his brother was to have you as a friend. What a treasure it was to have you around.

He had never felt this way about another woman. When he first met you back in elementary school, he didn't pay attention to you because you were a tomboy. But when you entered middle school and started to become more feminine, he started noticing you more and found himself admiring the confidence you carried in yourself. Whenever he hung out with you, he always felt relaxed and refreshed. He never had trouble talking to you and he loved hearing your stories. They were entertaining and very interesting.

In all honesty, he didn't think he'd fall in love with you, but once he realized he had feelings for you, it became impossible to deny it.

Ever since he realized his feelings for you, he's tried so hard to keep himself at a distance, because he didn't want to scare you away with his crush. He didn't want to force you to like him, so he continued acting normal around you, not giving you the chance to realize that he liked you. He figured that if you never knew how he felt about you, it would just give him an excuse to keep your friendship alive. To be close to you. To see your smile and listen to your voice. He enjoyed spending time with you. He liked talking to you.

When he had a chance to get closer to you, he always decided against it, thinking it was a bad idea. After all, you were his older brother's friend.

"Noona, you doing good?" Wooyoung asked you, resting a hand on your shoulder.

"Just a little buzzed, that's all." You managed to say without slurring your words. "Yunho and Mingi has been keeping an eye on me."

"Oh yeah?" Wooyoung grinned. "You're not picking them up, are you?"

"Nooooo~" You laughed, shooing him away playfully. "I said that I wasn't going to pick up guys and I mean it!"

"You're drunk aren't you? How many drinks have you had, noona?" Wooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Seven." You announced proudly. "Three beers and four shots."

"You really need to slow down." Wooyoung frowned, shaking his head.

"How about you let me buy you a beer, so you can drink with me?" You suggested.

"I refuse." Wooyoung refused to budge.

"How about you buy me a few drinks?" You raised your eyebrows at him.

"No." Wooyoung shook his head firmly.

"How about you take me home?" You suggested, batting your eyelashes at him.

Wooyoung had to take deep breaths to calm himself down at that statement. Of course he wanted to take you home. He wanted to take you home, kiss you senseless, bend you over the table, fuck you - nonono, he couldn't think like that! Not with you as his older brother's friend! It was wrong to have these thoughts. It was wrong to want this. This can never happen.

"Alright, alright." Wooyoung said, reaching for his wallet and pulling out money. "I’ll buy you some more drinks."

“Yay!” You happily clapped your hands, accepting the money from him and quickly getting up. You grabbed Wooyoung's hand, tugging him along behind you. "Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Wooyoung let you drag him towards the bar where a few of his friends were hanging out. You were practically pulling him by his arm. Luckily, none of them minded. In fact, everyone was amused by the situation. Some were outright staring at you and chuckling. You dragged Wooyoung to the counter, pointing at bottles and making drunken demands while grabbing the bartender's attention. After a few minutes of confusion and waiting, you finally got your drinks. You held the bottle in your hands, lifting it to your mouth. You finished the whole thing before putting the bottle back on the counter.

"Gimme another one." You demanded, putting your arm around Wooyoung's waist.

"Noona." Wooyoung grumbled, placing his hands on your shoulder. “I’m taking you home. You’re drunk.”

“Nooo~~~” You whined, pouting. “Come onnnn.”

Wooyoung sighed and reluctantly handed the bartender more money. “Just one more, please.” He ordered.

As soon as he walked back to you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you." You whispered, leaning into him.

“Shit…” Wooyoung breathed under his breath. He needed to end this now before things got out of control. He couldn't handle it, the way your face lit up, the way you leaned into him, the sweet smell of alcohol on your skin, your breath becoming heavy as you lean into him, the way your body presses against him…

He should've listened to his gut and told you to go home. Right now, his brain was screaming at him to move away from you and put space between the two of you, but his feet weren't listening to him. His body kept moving forward, like a magnet towards yours.

"Umm...yeah." He mumbled awkwardly. “We better get you home.”

"But..." You started.

"Noona." Wooyoung shook his head. "It's late and I'm not gonna let you drive home. Besides, I'm pretty sure your parents or even your sister won't be happy to find out that you came here alone and drank."

"You're probably right." You nodded before pouting. It took Wooyoung all his strength to not throw you over his shoulder. "You're still a buzzkiller."

“I know, I know. Let’s get you home.” Wooyoung agreed.

After saying your goodbyes to the rest of the group, Wooyoung guided you to the car. On the way to your house, you were almost asleep in the passenger seat. Wooyoung had to carry you to the door and place you inside the house. He carried you to your bedroom and placed you gently on the bed. You instantly fell asleep. He turned off the lights and left you sleeping peacefully.

After sending a quick message to your sister to let her know that you were home, Wooyoung left your house to go home. He was still unsettled and distracted by the thought of being near you. He hadn't gotten the chance to ask you if you had enjoyed the night. If you liked him. Maybe you were just playing along with him to tease him. He'd have to wait until tomorrow to find out.

You woke up with the worst hangover in history. You couldn't even remember what happened yesterday. Everything seemed blurry and surreal. Your head hurt, you felt nauseous and you wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep. But you also wanted to know why you were in your bed. You groaned and lifted your head up, attempting to sit up, only to hit your head back on the pillow.

"Son of a bitch." You swore angrily. "Fuck…"

Your phone rang and you answered it. "You have five minutes to tell me what the fuck you want or I'm hanging up."

You heard Wooyoung laugh on the other end. "Bad hangover, noona?"

"What did I do last night?" You groaned, wincing in pain.

"You were having fun, I guess." Wooyoung shrugged. "You drank too much, that's for sure."

"Did I pass out somewhere?" You asked curiously.

"No but you nearly fell asleep in my car." Wooyoung said. "I brought you home though."

"Thanks for saving my ass." You chuckled.

"Don't mention it." Wooyoung replied. "I'd do anything for you, noona."

"Anything?" You asked with a teasing tone.

"Oh no. What's going on in that head of yours?" Wooyoung joked.

"Coffeeeeee pleaseeee." You whined into the phone. "Now."

"Yeah, okay. Ten minutes. Go shower or something while you wait." Wooyoung chuckled.

After hanging up, you laid back down on your bed and closed your eyes. You felt like shit and Wooyoung was right, you did drink too much. You should've stopped after three beers, but you wanted to keep drinking. And when someone buys you more alcohol, it becomes really easy to continue drinking, even though you feel like shit.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized yourself. Your hair was messed up, there were smudges of mascara and eyeliner around your eyes, your lips were chapped and there was dried saliva stuck on your teeth. You look disgusting and definitely not presentable. As much as you hated to admit it, you needed a shower. Badly.

You went to the bathroom and hopped into the shower. The hot water helped ease some of your headache, but didn't make the hungover feeling any better. You took your time washing your hair, shampooing and conditioning it. You massaged your scalp, closing your eyes and letting out a small moan of pleasure as the warm water poured onto your skin.

After showering, you threw on some clean sweats and a t-shirt. Then you made your way downstairs. You found Wooyoung talking to Aimee, your younger sister, in the kitchen. They were laughing at something.

"Where's my coffee, Wooyoungie?" You called out, walking towards them.

"Here, you drunk." Wooyoung slid the coffee cup to you as you settled yourself on the stool. "Do you feel any better?"

"I feel like shit." You mumbled, resting your head on the countertop.

"Awhh." Wooyoung pouted, trying to hide his smile.

"Who told you to drink so much, eonni?" Your younger sister shook her head. "Let me guess. Jaehyun broke up with you?"

"I broke up with him." You retorted.

"And you needed a big, stiff drink." Aimee smirked.

"You have no idea how true that is." You laughed.

"Hey, good riddance. That relationship was doomed to fail anyway." Aimee stated. "While I'm happy that you dumped him, I'm a bit sad because Jaehyun was such a gorgeous man."

"Hey, I'm a gorgeous man!" Wooyoung pointed at himself.

Aimee raised her eyebrows. "Keep telling yourself that, Wooyoung."

"I am gorgeous." Wooyoung proclaimed.

"Whatever, loser." Aimee rolled her eyes.

You couldn't help but think that Wooyoung and your sister looked cute together. They were the same age and they always seemed to get along well whenever they spent time together. It wasn't surprising to see that they both found each other attractive, despite their differences in appearance. Their personality and sense of humor made up for it.

A part of you wanted someone as caring and funny as Wooyoung in your life, but then again, your luck in men wasn't great and you never found anyone who could treat you right. It didn't stop you from dreaming though. One day, you promised yourself, you would meet someone and he would change your mind about love and relationships. You wouldn't settle anymore, you would wait for the right guy to come along.

"Well, I hope you feel better." Wooyoung spoke up, breaking you out of your thoughts. "Do you have any plans for the day?"

"Nothing much. Probably go hang out with your brother or something. But I'm kind of tired and want to go back to sleep." You admitted, rubbing your temples.

"Why don't you just stay in today?" Aimee suggested. "I have to head to the office today anyway so I'll pick up dinner after I get off."

"Are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Yeah, it's fine." Aimee smiled. "Plus, I'd rather have a girls night with my older sister."

"I'm not included?" Wooyoung pouted.

Aimee rolled her eyes. "You're not a girl, you weirdo." She shook her head. "Besides, don't you have to go or something? Don't you have work?"

"Of course, what do you take me for?" Wooyoung laughed, shaking his head.

"Go away, you two." You moaned, head on the countertop. "Your yapping isn't helping my hangover."

Wooyoung grinned widely. "How dare you."

You reached for the coffee and gulped it down quickly. When you finished, you yawned. "I'm gonna crash now." You mumbled. "Thanks for everything, Wooyoungie. Now go to work, make that money."

"Anytime, noona." Wooyoung gave you a hug before leaving the room.

As soon as he was gone, Aimee pulled you into a tight hug. "Good job dumping Jaehyun." She whispered into your ear. "I'm so proud of you, sis."

"He deserves it." You sighed. "How can someone say they like you but then say you're not good enough for him? What kind of bullshit is that?"

"You're right." Aimee nodded. "You deserve someone better."

You hugged your sister back tightly. "Do you have any single friends? Or ex-boyfriends?" You asked hopefully.

"No eonni, I don't." Aimee laughed. "But you and I both know someone who's single."

"Who?" You inquired.

"Wooyoung, duhhhh." Aimee teased.

"Wooyoung?" You repeated, slightly taken aback. "Our Wooyoung? The Wooyoung who just left our house? The cutie-pie Wooyoung who's been our childhood friend for years? That Wooyoung?"

"That Wooyoung." Aimee giggled.

"Weird." You frowned. "I mean…of course he's single. But why? He's such a great catch."

"Maybe he's waiting for the perfect girl." Aimee suggested.

"I don't believe that for one second." You shook your head. "But if he is, I'm sure he'll meet her soon."

"Or maybe he already has." Aimee mused, a smile on her face. "Maybe he's already found that special one and she just doesn't know it yet."

"Mhmm." You hummed in agreement.

"Let's hope he doesn't have to wait too long." Your sister shook her head and grabbed her purse, making her way to the front door. "I'm heading to work now. I'll see you later, okay eonni?"

"Sure thing." You waved goodbye to her.

"Text me what you want for dinner." She instructed and you replied with a thumbs up.

You watched as your sister left the house, shutting the door behind her. You made your way to the couch and sunk into the cushions, curling up into a ball. You closed your eyes and let out a sigh, wondering if your day would get any better.

For reasons unknown, you woke up feeling incredibly horny. You had no idea why this would be happening. You haven't gotten laid in quite a few months and when you were still with Jaehyun, the both of you never even had sex. So it was extremely strange to wake up feeling this way.

Okay maybe it was that steamy movie you watched while you were indisposed on the couch. Maybe watching the couple undress and finally having sex made you yearn for some action of your own.

It had to be. Yeah.

You glanced at the clock. It was only noon and you had an entire day ahead of you. Grabbing your phone, you noticed the text messages from Wooyoung that you missed from a few hours ago. Instead of replying to him, you just decided to call him.

"Noona?" Wooyoung greeted, answering the phone immediately. "You good?"

"Yeah, I just woke up again." You huffed. "Are you done with work?"

"Yeah, I'm heading over to your place right now."

"Why?" You questioned, sitting upright. "It's only noon."

"Because you didn't answer Aimee's calls or texts so she got worried." Wooyoung explained. "I felt bad and offered to check on you. Are you okay, noona?"

"How far are you?"

"Pulling up right now. I'm hanging up."

In a few seconds, you heard the keypad to your front door opening and Wooyoung walked inside, taking his shoes off at the entrance. God, he looked so handsome standing there with his slightly disheveled hair, his crisp white shirt and jeans combo making him look casual but still appealing.

You wondered what his body looked like under his clothes and suddenly your imagination started to run wild. Nonono, you couldn't think like that. He was your best friend's younger brother! No matter how attracted you were to him, he wasn't someone you should be sleeping with. You liked him like a little brother and nothing else.

At least, you hoped so.

You pushed the unwanted thoughts out of your mind and smiled as Wooyoung made his way over to you. "Are you okay?" He asked, crouching beside you. "Hangover still bad?"

"Not too bad." You shook your head. "Did you bring me anything?"

"Yeah, here." Wooyoung handed you a bottle of water and some ibuprofen pills. "Take these. You'll feel better in no time."

"Thanks, Wooyoung." You sighed, leaning against him. "How was work?"

"It went pretty well. Hongjoong told me to go home. When your sister called me, he told me to just leave and take care of you."

You nodded. "Sounds like a good friend."

"Definitely." Wooyoung chuckled. "Do you need anything else?"

"I do but I'm not sure if it's something you could help me with." You muttered.

"What's up?" Wooyoung tilted his head. "You could tell me."

You shook your head, your cheeks slightly heating up. "Nononono, you don't need to-"

"Shhh…" Wooyoung placed a finger on your lips, silencing you instantly. "Look, I won't judge you, noona. Whatever you want, I'll try my best to give it to you."

"That's not-"

"Just relax and talk to me." Wooyoung said softly. "Please?"

You looked up at him and thought for a moment. What exactly did you want from him? Would asking him to pleasure you turn things between you and him sexual? Would he actually agree to do it? Did you really want to ask him?

All these questions raced through your mind and you bit your lip nervously. In the end, you decided to throw caution to the wind and see where this would lead you. If it ended badly, you could always cut ties with Wooyoung and go back to being just best friends.

Hopefully.

"Don't judge me okay? Please don't hate me." You breathed, looking away from Wooyoung and staring at the ground. "This might sound weird and I'm sorry if it does."

"I won't hate you, noona." Wooyoung assured you. "Whatever you need, just ask me."

The silence stretched on until you began to wonder if Wooyoung was going to speak. Then he raised an eyebrow at you and nodded once. He leaned forward slightly, giving you space to talk.

"Well...I woke up feeling...fuck, this is embarrassing to say." You huffed. "So here goes."

You took a deep breath and swallowed, telling yourself to just spit it out. You took another deep breath and braced yourself for what you were about to say.

"I..." You paused for a few moments, trying to find the right words to say. "I've been horny all morning. And I've never wanted someone so badly in my life."

Wooyoung gaped at you for a moment before covering his mouth with his hand, stifling his laughter. You stared at him in shock, your face turning bright red. Why did you just admit that? Of course he was gonna laugh. Why did you just open up to him?

"See? I knew it sounded weird!" You buried your face in your hands in embarrassment. "And now I've embarrassed myself even more."

"Calm down, noona." Wooyoung chuckled. "There's no need to be embarrassed."

You felt his hands softly gripping your thigh, stroking your skin lightly. You looked down at him and bit your lower lip anxiously. You weren't sure if he meant what he was doing as comforting or sexual.

"Sorry, I just..." You huffed, shaking your head. "I shouldn't be saying this. I shouldn't be thinking about this."

"I know, but-"

"-I'm just saying." You cut him off. "I'm not usually like this. Like, ever. And I can't believe I'm talking to you about this."

"Tell me what you want, noona." Wooyoung gently coaxed, stroking your thighs once more. "Tell me, show me how to please you."

You bit your lip nervously, feeling Wooyoung's eyes fixated on yours. You stared back at him, unsure of what to say. At the same time, you also felt empowered knowing that you could trust him with this. After all, you were opening up to him because you wanted him to know what you wanted. Right?

Right?

You gulped. "Fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this. Wooyoung..."

"Hmm? Tell me, noona." Wooyoung spoke softly, his voice somehow calming you down. "Show me how you want me to pleasure you."

"Wooyoung..." You whimpered, wanting him to kiss you but also not wanting to risk kissing him. Kissing him would make things...complicated.

"...say it. Just say it." Wooyoung repeated, running his fingers up and down your thigh. "Say whatever you want. Don't be afraid. Say it out loud."

You bit your lower lip and furrowed your brows. Fuck it all. You were just gonna go for it. You were just gonna fuck around with Wooyoung and see where this would take you. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

You grabbed his hand and placed it under your sweatpants, letting him fondle your already moist pussy through your underwear. "Fuck, I need you to finger me, eat me out. Touch me, make me come."

"Let's get rid of your sweatpants first." He let out a small chuckle. "Let's do this properly."

You let out a small moan as you felt him tug on your sweatpants, pushing them down below your hips. Your panties came next and after that, you were completely naked from the waist down. On his knees, he grabbed your hips and pulled you to sit on the edge of the couch cushions, positioning himself directly in front of you.

"Oh my god, Wooyoung..." You gasped, feeling his lips trailing small kisses up your thighs. You reached down and wrapped your fingers around his hair, encouraging him to continue.

"Tell me, noona." He asked softly, planting small kisses on your inner thighs. "What do you want?"

By no means was Wooyoung inexperienced when it came to sex. He'd gone out with quite a few women, which gave him plenty of experience. But the fact that he wanted you to tell him what to do made you feel empowered. Not only was he giving you what you wanted, he was listening to you as well. And you wanted him to know that you enjoyed having him do those things to you.

Your breathing quickened as Wooyoung continued to explore your body, kissing and licking along the sides of your thighs, brushing your folds with his tongue. You moaned as he trailed kisses along your inner thigh and began teasing your clit with his tongue. He was fucking amazing at it, using his tongue to flick the sensitive nub. With every pass, your moans grew louder and you gripped his hair tighter, encouraging him to do even more.

"Fuck..." You whispered hoarsely. "Please don't stop, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung replied with a smile. "Keep talking, noona. I want to hear what you're saying. Want to know if you're feeling good."

He continued to lick and suck on your clit while simultaneously teasing your hole with his tongue, slowly drawing your arousal to its peak. You kept your hands around his head, tugging at his hair and moaning loudly as he kept pleasuring you. His fingers ran through your wetness and brought them back to his mouth, sucking and licking them clean.

Fuck, you wanted his fingers in your mouth. Wanted to lick them, suck them dry.

As if reading your mind, he lifted his fingers to your lips. "Noona, suck my fingers." He ordered.

Reluctantly, you parted your lips and closed your teeth around his digits. You sucked hard, pulling at his fingers with your mouth. He moaned in delight and tightened his grip on your hips, guiding his fingers back to your pussy.

You wiggled beneath him, letting him push one finger inside of you. The sensation of his digits stretching your insides almost made you cry out. He then inserted a second finger, adding a third one later on. His mouth never left your pussy, though, continuing to lick you mercilessly as he slid his fingers in and out of you. Every thrust was like fire coursing through your body. It was too much and you quickly began panting heavily. You could barely think straight anymore, everything but him, his touch, his hot breath on your pussy.

His tongue was magic and you could feel your orgasm building rapidly. "Oh shit...Wooyoung, oh my god."

"Are you close, noona?" He asked you in between licks.

You whimpered, unable to form any words. All you wanted was to scream, yell out, tell him to hurry the fuck up and make you come. "Oh god...I...I can't...stop...oh god..."

Wooyoung increased his pace, sucking on your clit and rubbing his fingers against your walls. You couldn't help it. Soon enough, your orgasm hit you like a truck.

Your entire body convulsed as waves of pleasure washed over you. Your body tensed as your juices coated Wooyoung's fingers and his lips. And then you collapsed back onto the couch, gasping for air. You could feel your body shaking from your orgasm and Wooyoung grinned proudly at you.

When your heartbeat returned to normal, you sat up and patted Wooyoung on the cheek. "Wow, Wooyoung. That was incredible."

"Did I do good, noona? Are you happy?" He smiled sweetly at you, patting his hand against your ass playfully.

"Mhm, I loved it." You replied, blushing. "Thank you for indulging me."

"I'll do anything you want, noona." Wooyoung assured you, wrapping his arms around you. "Whenever you want."

"That's good to know." You smiled, leaning into him. "So, wanna keep fooling around some more?"

"Is that what you want?" He asked you with a smirk. "To keep fooling around?"

"Hell yeah." You laughed. "Can we?"

"Anything for you, noona." He grinned.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of kissing. Eventually, you two had moved into the bedroom, the rest of your clothes strewn across the floor. Wooyoung's shirt and jeans were tossed to the side of the bed and you noticed that he was only wearing boxers. You stared at his abs, tracing your fingers along the line of his stomach muscles.

You kissed him deeply, knowing that kissing him was going to get complicated. But you didn't care. Who cares if things got complicated. You'll reach that hurdle eventually anyway. Right?

"My turn." You murmured against his lips. He sat on the edge of the bed as you dropped to your knees in front of him. "I wanna taste you, Wooyoung."

He moaned at your words, reaching down and running his hands through your hair. "You don't have to do this for me, noona..."

"But I want to. Please, Wooyoung?" You pleaded with him, licking your lips seductively. "Please let me taste you."

"You're not drunk, are you?" He teased, chuckling slightly.

You laughed as well, biting your bottom lip. "Nope, just trying to cure a hangover."

Wooyoung smirked. "Then taste me whenever you want, noona."

You wasted no time in sucking on his erection, wrapping your lips around him and sliding him deep into your throat. He groaned in pleasure, holding onto your hair tightly. You liked the rough feeling of his hands on your hair, like you belonged there, sucking him off.

With your free hand, you squeezed his balls gently, massaging them with your thumb. A moan escaped his lips as you slowly bobbed your head up and down, taking him deeper each time until his tip hit the back of your throat. You looked up at him and he let out another moan before grabbing onto your hair once again.

You hummed with satisfaction, knowing that he liked what you were doing to him. As you licked and sucked on his dick, you ran your fingers along his shaft, lightly playing with his sack and stroking his head. It wasn't long before he was pushing his hips up, forcing his cock further down your throat. This excited you and you held his cock tight, not wanting him to pull away.

"You're such a good girl." He praised you.

You giggled. "Good girls are rewarded."

Wooyoung chuckled. "Alright then, good girl. Be rewarded."

As soon as he said that, you felt his warm seed coat your throat. You gulped a little at the feeling of him coming down your throat and used your hands to massage his shaft and testicles, making sure to take every last drop of cum out of him. When he was finished, he collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily. You crawled up next to him, placing soft kisses on his chest and shoulders.

You weren't satisfied yet. So you proceeded to start sucking on his nipples, causing him to moan in pleasure. "I want more, Wooyoung." You breathed.

"How much more?" He asked you teasingly. “You're so insatiable, aren't you?”

"You've got all day to please me." You responded slyly. "All night."

Wooyoung chuckled as you straddled him, grinding your wet pussy against his cock. "Hmm...Sounds tempting, noona."

"Will you satisfy me?" You asked him, watching as his eyes darkened with lust.

"Of course." He growled, pulling you towards him as he sat up. His hands wandered over your soft skin. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

His words made you shiver. You knew exactly what you wanted and now you were going to get it. And Wooyoung was going to give it to you. You could feel yourself growing moist at the thought of his big cock filling you.

"What would you like, noona?" He asked you seriously. "I'll do whatever you want."

"I want you inside me." You kissed him softly on the lips. "Give me your big cock."

"Yes, yes, baby." He groaned as you took his penis into your hands. "Put it in, noona."

You slowly slid him inside of you. "Fuuuck." You gasped. "That feels so good."

"Fuck yeah." Wooyoung moaned, staring into your eyes lovingly. "Feels good, right?"

"Mmhmm." You nodded, pressing your breasts against his chest as he thrust his hips upward, driving himself deeper into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together behind his back. The position felt amazing. You could easily grind your pussy against his dick as he pushed it in and out of you.

"It feels so good, noona." He moaned, resting his forehead against yours.

"Me too." You agreed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Every inch feels so fucking good."

Wooyoung kissed you deeply, nibbling on your lower lip. "I'm glad, noona." He whispered, nipping on your earlobe. "God, you're beautiful. You're taking me in so well, noona. Feels so damn good."

Your body was starting to heat up again and you moaned when he bit down on your neck. "Ah! Ah!" You yelled out, closing your eyes and clenching around his shaft. "Oh, fuck."

"Tell me, noona." Wooyoung urged, licking your neck. "Say what you need."

"Ohhh, fuck." You cried out, digging your nails into his back. "Wooyoung...mmm..please..."

Wooyoung released your neck and slowly began thrusting his hips up, sliding his cock in and out of you. "Say it, noona." He moaned, lowering his head and suckling your breast. "Say what you want."

You pulled his hair roughly, moaning. "More, please, more..."

"You like this, don't you, noona?" He asked you, chuckling lightly. "Don't worry. I won't stop."

You shook your head, looking into his eyes. "No, please don't stop." You whined. "Just keep fucking me."

He thrust harder, sending shockwaves throughout your body. "I'll fuck you all day and all night, noona. Every single second. No matter when and where you want it, I'll give it to you." He promised you, rocking his hips faster and faster. "I want to feel your tight pussy around my cock. Tighten up around me, noona."

And you did just that. You tightened around his cock and moaned loudly, unable to contain your pleasure. "Oh god, fuck, Wooyoung...that's so good."

You both started moaning louder and louder as your orgasms hit you. And you didn't want it to end. Not now, not ever. And you swore that it wouldn't. You continued to rock your hips back and forth, wanting him to stay buried inside of you forever.

He slowed his thrusts only to position you onto your hands and knees. He grabbed hold of your hips, pushing them back against his waist as he rammed himself into you again.

"Holy shit." He exclaimed, panting heavily. "I can't believe how tight you are."

You whimpered as he gripped your hips tighter. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" He mumbled.

He ran a hand along your naked back, the other holding your hip. You closed your eyes and just enjoyed the sensation of being fucked, completely and utterly taken. Your body sagged against the mattress, pushing your ass back towards him and giving him even more access to your pussy. He couldn't get enough of you. You rocked your hips, thrusting back against him, meeting each of his hard thrusts with your own.

"Jesus Christ, noona." Wooyoung cursed under his breath. "This feels so good. So goddamn good."

"Do it, Wooyoung." You panted. "Fill me with your cum. Fill me with your cum."

He leaned forward and kissed and sucked on the back of your neck and shoulder as he thrust his hips up into you, emptying his entire load into your eager pussy. His entire body tensed as he came, the waves of his orgasm radiating through him. With every wave of his climax, you came closer to climaxing again and the feeling was mind-blowing. You'd never felt anything like it. You could feel his hot seed oozing out of your pussy and covering your walls. His cock stayed buried inside of you for a few moments longer before finally slipping out.

You collapsed on the bed, gasping for air as you tried to catch your breath. "Wooyoung...god, Wooyoung..."

He collapsed next to you, running his fingers through your hair. "Baby, you okay?" He asked you, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You nodded, grinning happily. "Didn't expect you to cum three times though."

"I didn't expect you to cum three times either." He smiled.

"Yeah, now I'm exhausted." You sighed.

"It's alright, baby. You can rest if you want." He assured you. "I've got you."

"Okay." You nodded, snuggling up close to him.

You quickly fell asleep in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat.

The moonlight shone through the curtains and you groggily opened your eyes. For a brief moment, you thought you heard something but shook your head. No, there wasn't anyone else in the room. Only you and Wooyoung.

You yawned, looking down at Wooyoung who was lying beside you. A blanket covered both of your bodies and he snored peacefully against your chest.

You went and did it. You fucked your best friend's younger brother. Well, sort of. More like he fucked you but still.

But you didn't regret it. In fact, it was one of the best nights of your life. You didn't know why but something about it felt natural.

"Noona..." Wooyoung mumbled against your skin, interrupting your thoughts.

You glanced down at him, feeling his soft lips on your neck. He was facing away from you, sleeping soundly. Your heart fluttered as you brushed your fingertips across his back. Oh my god, you thought. You really love this man. You loved him way more than you should have.

Maybe you'd been in love with him this whole time and just now noticed it. Maybe he was attracted to you as well but chose not to admit it. Or maybe you're delusional. It was possible.

Whatever the case, you couldn't deny the strong connection you shared with Wooyoung. Whether you ended up dating each other or not, you knew you wouldn't regret tonight.

At least, not yet.

With a sigh, you tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. You looked at him again, feeling yourself growing warmer.

He was perfect. Asleep or awake, the boy was gorgeous.

"Wooyoung?"

"Hmm?" He sleepily moaned, shifting slightly in your embrace.

"Are you still sleeping?" You asked, worried. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

"It's late." He mumbled, snuggling closer to your body and closing his eyes. "And I feel comfortable here. Just let me spend the night."

"What if my sister comes home?" You frowned. "Do you want her to catch us in bed together?"

"She won't. She told me earlier that she was going to her boyfriend's when I offered to take care of you." He chuckled lightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair. "And you didn't bother to tell me this?"

"If I did, you would have told me to go home. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now." He sighed, cupping your face. "Let's stay like this, okay? At least until morning."

"Fine." You huffed, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm not exactly complaining."

"Good." Wooyoung kissed your forehead before pressing his lips to yours gently.

"Wooyoung, what are we now? Because our relationship has definitely changed after today." You mused, tracing the curve of his jawline with your fingertip.

"We're more than just friends now." He said lightly, running his fingers down your arm. "There's nothing stopping us from dating now. You know this, right? We're both adults. What's stopping us?"

What was stopping you? Other than that tiny voice in the back of your head. You weren't ready to give up the friendship you shared with Wooyoung just yet. Dating him would complicate things way too much. You weren't ready to deal with a breakup or hurting him.

"Y/N," He called out and you couldn't help but bite your lower lip. That was the first time he called you by your name and not noona. "I want to be with you. I don't want to hide anything from you anymore. I want you to know everything about me. I want you to see me and not see just a kid that I used to be."

"Wooyoung..." Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. "How long have you felt this way?"

"Since forever." He sighed, moving to kiss your nose. "I've liked you for as long as I can remember. Always wanting to be near you, watch you, listen to you speak."

"Then why didn't you say anything?" You pouted, lowering your head to look at him.

"Why should I?" He shrugged. "If you don't feel the same way, then I wouldn't want to pressure you into something you aren't comfortable doing."

"Wooyoung, I-"

"-want to date you, Y/N." He cut you off, grinning mischievously at you. "Not just for sex, although I want that too, but because I actually want to date you."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Huh?"

"I want to take you out. Spend time with you. Be with you. All the time. Not as just friends or you being my older brother's friend. I want to be with you. Love you." He lowered his voice, nibbling on your bottom lip. "Just you."

A surge of warmth flooded your body. "Really?" You asked quietly, smiling shyly at him. "You mean that?"

"Of course, baby.” He laughed lightly. "Who else do you think would say such stupid things to you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Some guy named Wooyoung." You quipped back.

"Ha ha, very funny." He groaned, cupping your cheek before capturing your lips in his.

"Wooyoung..." You whispered against his lips. "You know I love you, right?"

"Since when?" He whispered back, leaning forward and pressing his lips to your neck. "Noona, why haven't you said it to me sooner?"

"Because I wasn't sure if I loved you." You admitted, pulling away slightly to meet his gaze. "But now I am."

"Ahhh..." Wooyoung moaned softly. "I love you too, Y/N."

"Wait, I didn't hear you." You laughed, grabbing hold of his collar. "Say it again."

"Noona...I love you." He repeated himself, gazing at you with adoring eyes. "I love you."

You kissed him deeply, loving how responsive he was to your kisses. His hands tangled in your hair as he deepened the kiss, leaving trails of fire on your lips. Suddenly, you pulled away from him and stared into his eyes. "I love you too, Wooyoung."

"Fuck, Y/N..." He groaned, covering his mouth with his hand. "My hyung is gonna kill me."

"Don't worry about him." You laughed. "He'll be happy that his best friend and his younger brother finally found happiness together."

"You really love me right?" He asked, his lips on your shoulder.

"More than you'll ever know." You replied softly, staring into his dark eyes. "I know I complain about my bad luck in men and that I just wanted someone to give me proper love and care. Guess he was right in front of me, all along."

"I'll make sure to treat you with love and care from now on." Wooyoung promised, pressing another kiss to your neck.

"Promise?" You giggled, biting his bottom lip.

"Absolutely." He smirked at you. "Y/N, you're the only woman I will ever want."

"Hmmm." You hummed, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Then let's just stay in bed all night...hmm?"

"Oh yeah, you're absolutely right." Wooyoung grinned, bringing you even closer to him. "We should stay in bed.”

[nightwriter357]

A window into us - Chapter 2: I'd take a papercut for you

Sooo... ifell of the face of the earth for a while, falling kind of makes sense for me but a bit wierd to do after just posting ONE chapter of a new story. Anyway, here's chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it!

Damien POV

The night is quiet, scrolling through his phone, the blue light casting shadows across his face.

His room's quiet except for the soft hum of the computer and the distant sound of his mom laughing at some late-night show, his dad was probably already asleep.

They're still in the same house, still sharing dinner, still making each other coffee in the morning. Somehow, it works. Somehow, it's stable.

He knows not everyone gets that. Not you.

You never talk about the divorce directly, but Damien's seen how your eyes go soft watching other people's parents get along. Like you're memorizing something you hope will come back. He doesn't bring it up, Damien doesn't know if he should—but he notices how you always hope things will get fixed, even if deep down, he suspects they won't. And it sticks with him.

He exhales, tossing his phone aside. He really should sleep—tomorrow's school and the end of winter break always hits weird. But then, there's a creaking sound from the window.

The window slams open, and Damien's head jerks up. 

You swung one leg inside, the hem of that stupidly soft-looking blue sweater snagging on the windowsill. Your hair was wild from the wind and snow and the curls were even more prominent than usual.

He sits up straighter, confused for a second before recognition sets in. 

Your knee knocked over the lamp on his windowsill. It seemed to topple in slow motion as he watched you. Angel, he had called you six months ago when you stumbled in through the window. You still lived up to that nickname, but he didn't dare call you that again, it might sound to sincere. The lamp finally hit the ground, the bulb rolling on the floor.

"So you've officially made this a tradition now? Climbing in here through the window on the last say before school starts?" he asked, half-laughing. 

You swing the other leg inside, glancing at him with an uneasy smile. " Yeah. Sorry. Front door felt..." You stumble and fall to the floor, knocking over the photo on the windowsill "wrong." the frame lands face-up with a crack in the glass covering his grandparents' smiles.

"Shit, shit-" You scramble for the photo, your fingers brush over his grandmother's wedding ring in the image. For a second, he thinks you'll bolt. Then you whisper, "They look so happy here."

Damien's throat tightens. The photo was taken two weeks before Grandma's diagnosis. He remembers how happy they used to be, how full of life his grandpa used to be when she was still here. "'Yeah, they were."

You stay on the ground, your eyes glued to the photo. ""Do you think they knew? Like... absolutely knew they'd always be together?"

Damien walks over to you and helps you up, watching you like you might vanish again. Damien sits back down, making space on the bed but he can see that you're lost in thought . "What's up?"

You hesitate, standing there for a second before blurting out, "someone asked me out."

Damien raises an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Ryan."

He chuckles, leaning back against his pillows. It isn't funny funny though, it's more ridiculous. "Ryan? Seriously? The guy who says 'let's ride' before every test?"

You shot him a look, frustration warring with something fragile, like he'd missed the point entirely. "It's not a joke, Damien. I'm not sure what to do."

Damien shrugs, trying to appear helpful even though he knows he's the last person who should be giving relationship advice to you. "Why? What's the issue?"

"I don't know if it's worth it. And..." Your voice lowered "I don't know."

Damien doesn't know exactly what to say to that. He's not great with this kind of thing, especially when it comes to the emotions you don't always show. He knows your parents' divorce is still a sore spot, and that it affects you more than you let on. The last thing he wants to do is make things worse by giving bad advice.

"Well, listen," he starts, leaning up slightly. "You can never really know how things are gonna end up, right?"

You look at him, hesitating. "I don't know. Everything just feels... complicated."

"It's not even about Ryan, it's more about you not being afraid." Damien said, watching you curl up beside him.

You nod, your eyes still carrying that uncertainty. "Yeah. I guess I am a bit scared. How do I even know if he's worth risking it for. I mean I barely know him?"

Damien chuckles, though it's more to lighten the mood than out of mockery. "Look, he probably isn't but you shouldn't not do it just because you're afraid of a possible future breakup, then you can never be with anyone. If Ryan likes you, he'll figure it out. Boys are idiots, but we're not that dumb."

You snort, giving him an exasperated look. "That's your advice? 'Boys are idiots'?"

Damien shrugged. Ryan wasn't good enough for you and it didn't feel right shoving you into his arms.. But telling you to give up on the idea that someone could love you was worse. Both because it was cruel and sad but mostly because it wasn't true. Even Ryan could see it and he's certainly not the sharpest tool in the shed, as Shrek would say.

You fidget with the blanket, pulling it a little tighter around yourself. "What if it doesn't work out?"

"Then you move on. " He turns to face you, his voice softer now. "You have plenty of people who love you, you won't be alone."

For a moment, you don't say anything, just lie there, staring at the ceiling. Damien can tell you're processing everything, though it's hard for him to tell exactly what's going through your mind.

He knew you were feeling bad but he couldn't think of a way to make you feel better. Sometimes things were quiet for a long time while he tried to figure it out and then when he finally thought of something half way decent to say, the moment would be lost and it would just be weird for him to respond to something you said 10 minutes ago.

He hears you take a deep breath before you speak. "I am alone though."

Damien glances over. "What?"

You're still looking up at the ceiling as he watches you. It's hard to know if you're actually speaking to him, or the stars, or even Bernard who's currently peeling at the corner. Or maybe you just need to get it all out. "My mom. She met someone. He lives like... five hours away. She's been spending the whole week there."

His chest tightens a bit. "So you're alone tonight?"

You nod, barely. "Yeah. I didn't want to be, didn't know where else to go.."

Damien doesn't say anything right away, still can't find the right words. He just shifts closer, blanket half on your legs now too. "You could've just told me that."

"I know," you swallowed. "But it felt easier to pretend it was just about Ryan."

He watches you for a second, then lies back against the pillows. "Well... for the record, I'm glad you came to me." and especially glad you didn't go to stupid Ryan..

You both fall quiet again. Damien is searching for words to break the silence but is convinced anything he says will just be dumb.

Then you speak, voice soft. "Can I ask something dumb?"

Damien turns his head. "Always."

"Do you want to shuffle your playlist again?"

He raises an eyebrow. A part of you must have enjoyed that evening this summer as much as he did. You haven't done the song game since then. "Oh really? You believe in it's power now?"

You give a little shrug. "No, just.. For fun."

He picks up his phone from the nightstand and unlocks it without another word, tapping over to his music. "Alright. Let's let the universe decide."

The moment he hits shuffle, the opening chords of Complicated by Avril Lavigne start to play through the phone speaker. Damien tries his best to contain his laughter, not being sure if you're in a mood to laugh at this.

You groan, dragging both hands down your face. "No. Absolutely not."

Damien bursts out laughing. "Oh my god."

"This is rigged," you mumble, obviously holding back a smile of your own . "Your phone is rigged."

"No, it's fate," he said, nudging your leg with his. "The universe thinks it's complicated. Isn't that helpful?"

You turn over to face him, "Well I don't want complicated. I want someone to really really like me, you know? Like 'I'd take a bullet for you' like me."

Damien snorts, shaking his head. "Pfft. That's nothing." He leaned in closer and almost whispered, still loud enough for you to hear while the music played."I'd take a paper cut for you."

You stare at him for a moment, confused. "A paper cut? Is that supposed to be better?"

He smirks, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. "Think about it, aren't there more people you'd take a bullet for than a paper cut?"

You let out a soft laugh, rolling your eyes. "'Uhm... no?"

Damien shakes his head with mock disappointment. "Alright, fine. Let me ask you something. Why would you take a bullet for someone?"

You glance over at him raising an eyebrow. "Because I care about them? Because I want them to be safe?"

"Sure," he said, his voice softening just a little. "Now why would you take a papercut for someone?"

"I don't know." You pulled your sweater down to your palms, and Damien notices your fingers digging into your sleeves just a little too tight.

Damien shifts slightly closer, his voice still teasing but thoughtful. "A paper cut isn't life or death. It's just a little sting. Something small, you'd take it on not because the other person won't survive it. Not because you have to, but because you want to spare them even a small inconvenience if you could."

You pause, it looks like you're trying to figure out the meaning of his words. "So, you'd take a paper cut for me?"

Damien smiles, and for a moment, he's sure you can notice the sincerity in his eyes. "I'd take a stubbed toe, an itchy nose, maybe even shampoo in my eyes."

You chuckle quietly, raising an eyebrow while holding your foot with both hands. "You know I stub my toes all the time, right?"

Damien's lips press into a mock-serious line. "I'm aware." Damien rolled off the bed and rummaged through his dresser. "Any sleeping shirt preferences I should know about?"

Your nose scrunched. "A clean one?" He tossed a shirt at your head.

"You know you can sleep here any night, right?" Damien tried his best to keep his voice casual, and averting his gaze as you removed your sweater to reveal the tank top underneath. "Doesn't have to be some... once-a-semester tradition."

You froze mid-fold, his T-shirt dangling from your hands. "Any night?" you repeated, voice smaller than he'd ever heard it.

Shit. Too much? He backpedaled fast. "I mean, I'm already used to only getting 20% of the bed now anyway, so the damage is done."

You snorted, throwing a pillow at his face. "Even if I say yes to Ryan?"

The air left his lungs. "Especially then," he responded. It was both a lie and the truth at the same time.

You didn't answer. Just turned onto your side, facing away from him, but not before he caught the way your lips twitched. Damien stared at the ceiling, wide awake. It was weird, before you got here he swears he could have fallen asleep any minute. But now it just feels different, Doesn't seem to be a problem for you though.

It's not the first time you've fallen asleep here.

Six months ago, it felt like a one time thing. A moment that would fade as high school started. But now you're back—through the same window, needing someone the day before school starts and you chose him again. Not stupid Ryan. Not anyone else.

Damien turns his head just slightly, watching your face as your breathing evens out. There's a crease between your brows like you're still carrying the weight of the world, even in sleep. He wants to smooth it away with his thumb, but he doesn't move. He doesn't dare.

But he wants to.

God, he wants to.

Then you shift a little closer in your sleep, your hand brushing his arm like it belongs there, Damien doesn't move away.

He doesn't want to.

God, he doesn't want to.

The alarm hadn't gone off yet when Damien woke to pale winter light creeping through the blinds. He blinked, disoriented, until he felt the weight against his side you, curled into yourself, one hand gripping the covers.

He should move. Should disentangle before you woke and made it awkward. But he still had time, and he was still kind of tired.

So he stayed. And he looked.

The crease between your brows had smoothed out in sleep, making you look younger. Like you looked years ago playing in the garden, smiling and laughing with his grandmother, collecting rocks and running around with him.

Your eyelashes fluttered a dream, maybe and Damien held his breath, maybe it was a bad dream, maybe he should wake you up. Nut then he was suddenly aware of how close your face was to his.

The alarm blared.

Damien jerked back as you startled awake, your knee accidentally jamming into his thigh. "Ow, what the"

"Sorry," he muttered, rolling away to smash the alarm button. When he turned back, you were rubbing your eyes, hair sticking up on one side.

"You good?" you mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Just... happy you didn't push me fully of the bed."

You laugh quietly, stretching you arms. "Well, you should probably get a bigger bed then"

Damien grins. "I will."

He might as well, looks like you'll be sleeping here more often. He could get a bigger bed for you, if that made you more comfortable. Damien doesn't really mind the small bed that much though..