#“can pissing save your life? lets discuss.”

[mac33cheese]

Hc that akechi is a big fan of matpat and has a blog of just insane theories

[shouts-into-the-void]

Montresor caring about Will didn't come out of nowhere, Lenore was just mad: a biased completely unbiased post

The thing we need to remember as a rule is that Montresor's default personality is rude and antagonistic even when he's not actively trying to be an aggressor, which means you have to look at what he means rather than necessarily the things he says. He's a clear victim of abuse, who reacts to feelings trapped, cornered, threatened, panicked, or humiliated by lashing out. From what I have gathered, it seems like his mother may have been the type of person who was nice one minute, then became abusive at the drop of a hat, and/or acted loving while claiming she "had to do this for his own good", and he was clearly raised in a very strict religious environment where he didnt have a lot of control/was punished for things he couldnt help. As a reaction, Montresor tries to force an aggressive response out of anyone he feels threatened by, because at least then it's predictable and he feels in control. Okay, great, Montresor analysis out of the way, moving on.

Our first real look at Will and Montresor as a unit is when the clusterfucks (side note: I've seen a lot of people calling them the acoleets now? Far less funny, absolutely not) are discussing their spectres. During this conversation, Montresor is actually hyping Will up, and even when he agrees with Ada that is sounds useless, he makes sure to assure him that it "looks really cool though."

We only really see Montresor become outright violent and dangerous once it's revealed that only one person can win a new life. We see him actively panic about it, and while we don't really get a lot more context for him yelling at Will in the moment, I think its relevant that this is the moment when he starts treating Will less nicely, because now it's a competition and everyone else is potentially out to get him. Hell, he even immediately begins joking around with Will after telling him to shut up, so it's clear that he's acting out of stress and fear immediately after the revelation.

The interaction that immediately follows this is the incident with Morella and Ada, and I find it notable that Montresor goes out of his way to include Will. (when he makes sure to let you get your turn humiliating a woman to prove her loyalty to the group #romantic 🤡)

Later, during the Spectre vs. Students lesson, when Berenice bites Will and he asks for help, Montresor immediately tells her to leave him alone. While he seems mildly annoyed with Will the whole time (kind of understandably, because Will keeps screwing up the plan) he only says anything particularly horrible after Berenice slashes him across the face with her knife, which clearly pisses him off in general. We see him letting Will nap on his shoulder afterwards, which isn't super important I just think it's cute.

Montresor clearly sees them as a unit, as he still involved Will with the plan despite Will messing up the previous night with Duke and stops Will from helping Annabel with Ada despite not having a real reason to do so by saying "We'll sit this one out." Like it should have gone without saying that if he's not doing it, Will isn't either. Then the next day, the fact that Montresor comes to get Will specifically so they can walk to breakfast together? Knows what his toothbrush looks like and goes out of his way to give it back? The little flick on the forehead when he calls him a churchmouse? That he picks up on Will's distress and immediately goes to collect Ada to save him? I see you, fake-ass idgafer.

Which brings me to my next point, which is that it is Lenore on her enraged, vengeful tirade who claims that Montresor hates Will. She claims it's due to his behavior towards Will when he came to get him, but I think its pretty clear she only says it to upset Will. And Will can't think of anything nice Montresor's ever done for him because he's stressed, thinks he's about to get shot, and his self-confidence is super low. He even addresses the fact later that Montresor goes out of his way to save him all the time.

I also think now is a good time to point out that Montresor only seems to physically hurt Will in any significant way when he's been having a flashback. His expression when he comes out of his death flashback to find himself attacking Will is shocked, and while he doesn't apologize, his response does come across as apologetic. He has a similar expression when he wakes up from Ada's vision choking Will, only he looks incredibly panicked that time because he'd done actual damage. The expression on his face when Lenore points out what he's done is pained. I think this runs back to Montresor telling Will not to touch him, I'm pretty sure part of his trauma revolves around physical touch and when he's having an episode of PTSD/not fully aware of his surroundings he lashes out instinctively at the person touching him, which unfortunately means Will, who is a very physically affectionate person (man has 13 siblings and it shows.) Which is unfortunate, because I think Montresor also seems to be a very tactile person, and he actually goes out of his way to be touching Will a lot.

Another interesting thing? Montresor only ever addresses Will by name, which is very significant with context. The nicknames Montresor gives people are meant to mock them, so by only using Will's name it subtlely signals that he holds him in higher respect (or at least in more genuine regard) than the others. In Will's flashback, Sally–someone who went to school with him and was in all the same classes–doesn't remember his name, only that he's one of many Wilson siblings. So for Montresor, who can't even remember his "ace in the hole" and current fling's name, to be constantly making it a point to say he knows who Will is, is a great indicator of his actual feelings. By contrast, Will calls Montresor "Monty" exclusively, the only nickname he receives that is genuinely affectionate and something he never attempts to make him stop calling him.

Which pretty much brings us back to the events of the current episodes, which I've already talked about the significance of in another post. I know this is probably insanely biased for multiple reasons and im sure theres a bunch of little tidbits I've forgotten , but do with it what you will.

[aperrywilliams]

The Sound of Winter (Spencer Reid x Gn!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Gn!BAU!Reader.

Summary: After a really bad case that hit you hard, you’re in denial and not taking the help people are trying to offer. You think it's a matter of time for you to be good again. But the trauma goes deep this time. And it seems Spencer, your ex-boyfriend, is the best card the team has to bring you back due to his experience with major traumas on the field. It's a tricky move, but Spencer is so sick and worried about you that he is on board immediately. You don’t seem thrilled, but maybe Spencer has something to say that you might listen to.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort. +16. Injuries, blood, and people’s deaths are mentioned. Nightmares and lack of self-care are part of Reader’s new routine.

A/N: I wrote this because everyone has their own ways of dealing with trauma, but listening to someone who might have experienced something similar can be actually helpful.

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“Just close your eyes. Inhale deeply. Keep it, maintain it there. Now exhale. That’s it. Let’s do it again.”

It's supposed to be ten repetitions, but although you weren’t keeping count, you can swear there are more than fifteen by now. Should you feel better now? Relaxed? It doesn't seem to work. Your mind is still clouded with vivid images of the past week. So vivid that you haven’t slept properly in days. Every time you close your eyes, you can see them. On the floor. Bleeding out. Eyes on you, pleading for something you couldn’t give them: a chance to live. It was already late when you got to the house. The unsub already hurt them the way any hope was futile. Even though you kneeled there, holding the bloody hand of the youngest girl. What were you thinking? That you could bring her some kind of comfort in her last seconds of life? You could barely say ‘I’m sorry’ when her eyes closed forever.

I’m sorry. I should have been here sooner, and I should have been able to stop him. I’m so sorry. I failed you and your family. I’m so sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m -

“You can open your eyes now.”

The therapist's voice is soft, and a faint, reassuring smile graces her lips.

You don’t feel better, but when she asks you exactly that, you lie.

“Much better, thank you.”

Are therapists accustomed to being lied to their faces that way? If she knows, she doesn't say anything.

“Okay. Our time is up for now. See you next week?”

“Sure.” And you are not lying. Your reinstatement depends on your ability to pass the psych evaluation. Emily already told you she won’t make any exceptions for you.

It's on you: or you magically can overcome a major trauma after doing your job in the field, or you can be convincing enough to let people think you’re cured of trauma after some mandatory therapist appointments.

It’ll be what happens first, you think. And it's kind of obvious what it will.

With the mandatory therapy sessions, you’re on leave for two weeks until the psych evaluation is done and discussed. You don’t think being at home will do any better for your mental health. But again, Emily wasn’t keen to even discuss it. And you already have pissed your boss enough in the past days to try to act sly about it.

When you come home, it's late. You can’t exactly say why you chose sessions this late, having all day at your disposal.

The apartment is quiet, the same way you left it two hours ago, but now it's dark. You only flick one lamp on next to your couch, where you plop with a huff.

Why do you feel tired? You haven’t done anything all day besides being out of home the past two hours. Eyes on the ceiling, you try to think of something to do before going to bed. Watch TV? Read a book? Drink a full bottle of tequila? All the above?

If you were working, you wouldn’t be spiraling like this. At least you think that.

Fuck you, Emily!

If I had been faster, I would have stopped him, and I could have saved them. I didn't do my job. They should fire me. I’m not good at this anymore.

Knock-Knock-Knock.

Your head snaps. Who the hell is knocking at this hour? Maybe you summoned Emily with your thoughts and she’s here to check on you. Jeez, you don’t want to talk to anyone right now. Standing from the couch, you only hope it's a lost delivery man.

But when you open the door, neither of your possible outcomes becomes true.

Spencer Reid is who’s standing there, a neutral expression on his face. Hands in the pockets of his coat.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice hints more incredulity than annoyance.

“I wanted to know how you are doing,” he says, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. It is a sign that he’s not sure how you’re taking the fact he came to see you.

“How am I doing? Great, wonderful. Thanks for asking,” you reply sarcastically. “Is that all?”

Spencer doesn't seem surprised by your reaction. He kind of expected it.

There is no explicit animosity between you both, but it's difficult to say you have maintained a closer relationship after your breakup. You can work together pretty well and behave professionally and civil most of the time. That doesn't mean you are friends, much less that you trust him with your issues.

But even though that’s the reality of your relationship, after what you went through in the last case, Spencer can’t look another way. Especially with something he knows by experience and with the suspicion of how bad it’s hitting you. The fact you’re not together anymore doesn't mean Spencer can just turn his back on you.

Life’s irony, if you ask him, considering he was the one who walked away first when everything went wrong a few years ago.

“No, that’s not all. I know it's late, but Emily told me your sessions end late.”

Emily. Of course.

“So she sent you? I told her if she wanted-”

You want a fight. You don’t know why, but everything looks like a good reason to pick a fight. Spencer cuts you off, though.

“She didn’t send me. I wanted to come. Can I come in, please?” His voice is firmer this time like he is talking about something serious.

Does he? Are you ‘something’ he needs to take care of? Truth or not, it doesn't matter; only having the idea in your brain intensifies your disgust.

So you think for a second. You don’t want to talk to anyone, but you know Spencer enough; he won’t leave if he isn’t getting what he wants. And you want a fight. Who’s better for that than your ex-boyfriend?”

Without a word, you swing back the door and step aside so he can come in.

The place isn't a complete mess, but as Spencer knows you, this is chaos by your standards. Things are out of place: coffee mugs and plates stacked in the sink, a coffee table full of papers and books, blankets sprayed on the couch, clothes in the back of chairs, and that smell. Cigarettes? Did you start smoking again? At least you have the windows open. But it’s December, not the best weather to do that at night. All those things travel through Spencer’s brain in the short walk from your entrance to your living room. You stand behind him. You know what he is doing, but you won’t even bother to explain yourself.

“I would offer you coffee, but I ran out of it today,” you say as you go to close the windows.

“It's okay. Thank you.”

Spencer sits on one corner of the couch, not waiting for you to invite him to. It’s like he owns the place, you think. A time ago, it was like that, though. You both could spend hours on that same couch.

You sit in the opposite corner.

“So?” you start. “If Emily didn't send you. Why are you here?”

Spencer clears his throat. You think you know what’s coming: a string of complicated, far-fetched, and rehearsed words just to say you’re a disgrace and an inconvenience to the team.

“Because we’re worried about you.”

There you go. Worried. That's a nice way to say you’re being a headache to a group of people who have better things to do than worry about a derailed member.

“We? Worried? So, are you some kind of team spokesperson now? And why are you worried? I probably won't even be able to return. I'd be relieved if I were you.”

You're all about sarcasm and provocation, something you know Spencer hates. You may well remember that during your big arguments, one thing that always got on Spencer's nerves was your inability not to say something snarky when he was trying to say something serious. The same way you’re doing now.

“Can you at least acknowledge you’re not okay?” Spencer says, exhaling sharply. “You don’t want us in the middle of this - whatever it is? Fine. But you’re hurting and not doing something about it.”

Aren’t you? The audacity of this man. You’re taking care of it but on your terms. Why should people mess with it?

You stand, huffing an incredulous laugh.

“How could you even know what I’m doing or not? Are we living together, and I didn’t know? Oh wait, we have not since a pretty good time!”

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re doing excellent work getting on his nerves.

“Can you stop that, please?” He asks, trying to sound still collected.

“Stop what, Dr. Reid? What I’m doing that is stressing you out?”

Oh, petty girl. Petty, petty girl. Even you feel the urge to slap yourself across the face. But you can’t stop. You don’t know how.

Spencer stands, biting his lower lip, contemplating how to proceed. He knows what you’re doing, and leaving right now would be a win for you. Not that he cares if he ‘loses,’ his reasons for being here are beyond his comfort or needs. That's why leaving is not an option for him. Do you want to play punching ball with him? Okay. He’ll take it if it means you're getting everything out of your chest. If it helps you, it's okay. He owes you this much or even more.

“Okay,” he prefaces. “Due I’m the one intruding here, it is fair I get to endure whatever you want to throw at me. So, go ahead.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you coo, condescendingly. Spencer rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. That too. Do that, I don’t care,” Spencer deadpan. You cross your arms over your chest, eyebrow raised.

“What are you trying to prove, Spencer? You’re trying to prove you can be here for me? When is it supposed I need it?”

He doesn't flinch at your comeback, his expression remains serious, though.

“Believe it or not, I��m not trying to prove anything. I'm just trying to provoke you enough to make you react and do something to stop sinking.”

It's raw and direct, and you didn't expect it that way, so you don’t have a retort to throw immediately. It makes sense, though. You have been spiraling for days with no end, and no one has been able to break the circle of shit and self-loathing in where you are. Not Emily and her mandatory leave imposition, not Garcia’s encouraging daily voice messages, not JJ’s calls to check on you, and definitely not the therapy sessions.

Those damn therapy sessions.

The ones you adamantly encouraged Spencer to take back then, and he didn't want to. Now you kind of understand why.

“What’s your problem, pal? I’m not sinking. My therapist doesn't think I am,” you say in the most nonchalant way you can. A statement that tries to look as a triumph, as a truth.

“Is that so? Then you have to stop lying to your therapist,” Spencer argues—an obvious truth to him.

“Excuse me?”

“It's clear you’re not talking to her. Almost can hear you saying, ‘It’s fine, I’m fine, everything is fine.’”

You huff in disbelief.

“Bold of you coming here to lecture me about the things I may say or not about me, don’t you think?”

“Well, didn’t you stop to think that's precisely why I’m doing it? I have been there. I know damn well how it is to want people to stop asking questions and leave me alone. With the pain, with the guilt.”

You don’t respond because you know exactly what he is referring to. You knew ‘that’ Spencer. You were one of those people asking him questions. But it was different back then. Your relationship was different. You were his partner, his best friend. And he pushed you away. And now you’re doing the same these days with practically all the people around you.

It's funny because Spencer is the one who knows better what’s happening to you, but he has less right to call you out about it, too.

“What do you want me to say? Uh?” Your voice has a tint of defeat on it. And exhaustion, a lot of exhaustion. You got what you wanted: a fight. But now you feel drained. Apparently, now is when Spencer gets what he has wanted from you since the beginning.

“The truth. Even if it's not to me.”

You furiously rub your eyes with your palms, trying to ease the sting in your eyesockets. You’re tired. So tired.

Tired? No. You’re weak. And useless.

“It's nothing you don’t already know.”

This time, you are fighting yourself. You are fighting to keep everything inside.

Don’t let it out. Prove you have left some strength. It's your burden—no one else.

“Try me.”

No. No. Yours. No one else. Don’t make another mistake.

“Spencer, don’t- I don’t think-” You shake your head no, avoiding making eye contact. You don't trust yourself anymore.

Weak. You can’t even handle it by yourself without spilling, can you? What a waste.

“Don’t listen to it. Please.”

What?

“What?”

Your head snaps up to him, eyes wide in confusion. Can he hear ‘it’ the way you do?

“The voice. Don’t listen to it. Talk to me. Please.”

A mist clouds your vision. You feel stripped to nothing. The voice in your head keeps torturing you. Your heart is pounding faster as it wants to jump from your chest. Your hands are trembling, and your legs are about to give in.

And there you are again. Kneeling on that floor, holding the little girl’s bloody hand, her eyes pleading.

‘Come on. Squeeze my hand. Help is on the way.’

‘I don’t want to die.’

And you want her to live, but you know there is no chance for her. Neither for her family lying lifeless on the floor around her. What can you do? What can you possibly do?

“I didn't save her! I couldn't - I-”

Tears flow freely as you scream at the top of your lungs. Spencer is now on the floor with you, holding you. Arms around your body, swaying you both back and forth.

“It's okay. Let it out,” he mumbles in your hair, a hand rubbing your back.

“Why? Why she-?”

“I know. It's unfair.”

You cling to Spencer’s shirt for something to ground you. Your sobs fill the room. It's like a dam was broken, and now you can’t stop.

It's unclear how much time has passed. Spencer keeps rocking you in his arms, and your cries have subsided a bit.

“Hey, I need you to inhale and exhale, okay? Focus on that,” Spencer encourages, and then it’s when you realize your breathing is irregular and full of hiccups.

Your eyes are fixed on one of Spencer’s shirt buttons as you do what he says. Breathe in and breathe out. Every exhale is shaky, but you can feel how your contracted muscles relax, and you’re not shaking anymore.

“That’s it. You’re doing great.”

Now that you feel more like yourself again, your voice comes back.

“Every time I close my eyes, I see her. There. Pleading. And then I see my face on her, doing the same.”

It has been your awake nightmare for the past five days. You haven’t slept because of the fear of closing your eyes.

“You know you did what you could, right? There is no way we could have gotten there in time.”

“Why not? If we had delivered the profile an hour before. Or if I had called Garcia at the exact moment when I saw the pattern. Maybe if I had run faster.”

Spencer tightens the grip he has on you and kisses your temple.

“Unfortunately, we don't know what would have happened if all those ‘ifs’ had gone true, but I'm sure of one thing: she wouldn't have wanted you to blame yourself like this, not when you were who held her hand at that moment.”

Spencer must be right, but why does it feel heavy on you nonetheless?

Taking a deep breath, you can say your body is more yours than twenty minutes ago. Your brain, though? Another story.

“Am I going insane? This is a sign telling me I’m not cut for this anymore?”

The question pretends to be rhetorical, but Spencer doesn't think it is.

“No. It's your defense mechanism against the lack of control: trying to make sense of something that is beyond you. Trying to gain some certain between incertains.”

It sounds pretty clinical for you, but it feels like hell.

“Was it different back then?” The words leave your mouth without thinking. You’re not trying to antagonize Spencer with what happened in the past anymore. It's for real curiosity. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. I know you’re trying to help,” you apologize.

Spencer rubs your arm soothingly.

“It's okay. Don’t apologize. And the answer is I don’t know. I have an idea this might be pretty similar to what occurred to me before things between us went to the trash, but I can’t tell exactly if what you are feeling right now is the same as I did.”

You have wondered a thousand times - before it happened to you - what could you have done to help him, but he never talked to you. It’s pretty much like you right now.

“Would it really help me if I talk about it?” There is incredulity floating in that question. Spencer nods.

“Definitely. It’s something you were right back then, and I didn’t understand until a long time since that.”

“Who should have known one of my advice would return to bite my ass.”

Spencer chuckles. There you are. The woman he knows.

“Come on. It's not a good idea to stay on the cold floor. Besides, you need to eat something and get some rest.”

After he stands up, Spencer helps you by taking your hands and gently pulling you up. Your legs still feel weak, but you're able to stabilize once on your feet.

“Thank you.” And you're not only talking about him helping to get up from the floor, literally.

He smiles at you. “You're welcome.”

You insist on going into the kitchen with him to help prepare something to eat, but Spencer won't let you.

"I'll take care of it. Go to sit on the couch. If you want to put on some music or TV, that's fine."

It's hard not to reminisce about those nights you both shared in each other's homes, whether it was preparing dinner or simply coexisting in the same place. It was undoubtedly one of the things you resented the most when you decided that breaking up was the only option you had left.

It wasn't without much searching when Spencer realized your fridge and pantry were empty. "Well, pizza delivery will have to do the trick this time," he announced, taking out his phone and dialing the place he knows you love.

“I’m sorry; besides the mess of this place, I don’t have any food left,” you sigh from your spot on the couch. Your body feels as heavy as your eyelids, but you still don't want to close your eyes.

“Don’t worry. We can do some shopping tomorrow. To stock up,” Spencer says absentmindedly when he’s searching for plates and cutlery. When you don’t reply he notices what he said.

“I mean, I can go to buy things and bring them here if you don’t want to go.”

Spencer thinks you could be uncomfortable with the idea of you and him doing things together, like if he’s trespassing a line.

Your silence isn’t exactly meant that way. It's more about the domesticity of the situation, although you know this is related to exceptional circumstances.

“It's okay. Either way, I need to stock up,” you say, brushing it off.

The pizza arrives, and you both settle on the couch to eat.

You now realize how hungry you were. You’re practically devouring the whole thing.

“Good?” Spencer asks, sipping his water.

“Embarrassingly good,” you admit. “I know I’m not a pleasant sight right now, but I guess that’s has been the pace since I opened the door.”

Spencer giggles, "There's nothing that food and a good night of sleep can’t improve.”

“I admire your positive approach. It's like listening to myself at other times,” you joke.

“Yeah. Weird coming from me, but I’m sure this time it fits,” he winks, making you huff a chuckle.

Spencer gets another bite of his slice and there is something at the tip of your tongue that you need to say.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?” He replies in a mid-mouthful. You sigh, changing your expression to one more serious.

“I know I said some hurtful things tonight. And I’m sorry. I took it against you, and it wasn’t fair.”

Spencer is still swallowing as he ruminates on your words.

“Please, don’t say that,” he decides. You arch an eyebrow.

“Why not?”

With no pizza on his plate, Spencer lets it on the coffee table as he shifts on his spot to get a better view of you.

“Look. I don’t want to sound self-centered or anything like that, but I should have approached a long time ago and not waited until now. I’m months overdue.”

You sip your drink, trying to make sense of what he just said, but you don’t want to overinterpret.

“I don’t think I follow, but it's okay if you don’t want to explain to me.”

Pushy is the last you want to be right now.

“I do think it's not the right moment to talk about some things. But I want you to know I want to help. Really help. Not that shit I gave you back then.”

The memory makes your stomach churn. Those were difficult times for everybody. Spencer was facing a major depression; you didn't know how to help him, and the team played like they didn't notice. Most of the weight fell on you, and you weren’t ready to be what Spencer needed. Neither Spencer knew what he needed at the time. It was chaos, fights, and tears.

“You were right all along, and the less I can do now, it's trying to help you to see on time what I didn’t.”

In your still vulnerable state, you try to gauge if there is a hint of deception in his words. Honestly, you don’t see any. But he’s right. It's not the moment to bring it in.

“Yeah. That could be a worms can we’re not ready to open.” Spencer nods.

“If it is okay with you, I would like to be here all steps in the way, as your friend, as someone who really cares. I don’t expect anything in return, I promise, just the chance to see you to get your life back again. A reminder of the great profiler you are and how the team is lucky to have you, even if you don’t think it’s true now.”

You’re tempted to ask why he is so adamant about that purpose. He says he cares, but you assume Emily, JJ, Garcia, and Rossi care too. What's the difference? You don’t think you’re ready for that answer. But having Spencer in your corner feels right and washes you with relief you didn't know you were craving so badly.

As you eat pizza while sitting on your couch, you think it's the most peaceful you've been in weeks, and you're truly grateful to Spencer for that. Perhaps being more persistent could have prevented the failure at the time. But who knows, maybe you'll have a new opportunity to do it differently this time and thus win back that person as important to your life as Spencer Reid.

Falling asleep in his arms on the couch that night could be the first step to building better foundations now.

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[kitasgloves]

idk if you’ll see this and it’s low key my first time requesting but like..Dazai and chuuya with orange cat girlfriend?

I'm ready to deliver anon 💪🏻

I've discussed this with a friend before and agreed that NAKAHARA CHUUYA is a Norwegian forest cat. I don't see Chuuya as some sort of guard dog or a chihuahua (it's fucking ridiculous). Sure, he's loyal to the Port Mafia but he's a pretty independent person. Norwegian forest cats are typically aggressive and cautious around strangers but they become affectionate when they get familiar with you. And I think that is very much like Chuuya.

Now, Chuuya with an orange cat gf is an interesting pair. Usually, I view Chuuya as someone who's reserved and can depend on himself, he does not seek chaos nor prefers to get entangled in it, however, you seem to attract trouble wherever you go. Your boyfriend always finds you in ridiculous situations that end up in catastrophe.

You try to cook spaghetti for date night, the kitchen almost sets aflame. Going on a date with him at a restaurant, you two were escorted out for getting into a fight with another couple (Chuuya caught the guy ogling you, got pissed off, and tried to kill him all the while you filmed it instead of prying him off the poor guy). Celebrating your anniversary by going on a romantic camping trip with him, you two ended up getting lost from your tent while getting chased by wolves (don't worry Chuuya saved you).

Your natural curiosity was usually the cause of trouble. You seemed to love to fuck around and find out. You're fortunate that the gravity manipulator adored you or else he would've lost his patience long ago. Chuuya does think that your clumsiness and playfulness add to your charm. You were always so outgoing and bright that it was difficult to resist you.

The mafioso was cautious of you at the beginning. He was closed off and didn't engage with you, since you were just a random civilian and he was part of the Port Mafia. You would always see him at your local stores or even the park just relaxing. However, with your persistence in constantly bothering him, he was starting to see how you genuinely wanted to get along with him. He tries to get to know you while slowly letting his guard down. When he sensed no maliciousness from your intentions, Chuuya felt like he could breathe easily.

The way you tugged on his heartstrings by learning all about his preferences made him think that he had to keep you in his life. The fact that you let him be vulnerable around you solidified the moment that he fell for you. It was a long time before he confessed to you, he was afraid at first considering he has lost a lot of dear people in his life, and he wouldn't want to permanently lose you. But after pondering and mustering enough courage, he confesses to you. Chuuya was bombarded with your sweet and wet kisses all over his face, and it made his insides melt.

There are even moments where you draw out the playful side in him too. Just like cats, you and Chuuya enjoy playing around. I would see you two going on dates that involve extracurricular activities like ice skating/rollerblading, hiking, swimming, etc. I also think Chuuya would love to take you on expensive and fancy dates just to see you dolled up for the occasion. And yes, he loves to spoil you with clothes and jewelry as well.

However, I think he's a bit peeved with your eccentric taste in food combinations or music. The executive spotted you mixing chocolate with pasta (rip Italians) once and he never wanted to talk about it again. You also love sending him weird playlists that have incredibly specific names, nonetheless, he still listens to them during his spare time.

"Babe, what are you doing up there?"

Chuuya peeked up on the tall tree where you were stuck, clinging to one of the branches. You grinned down at your boyfriend. Chuuya sighs.

"You know what, don't explain"

"Catch me!"

"What? ...shit! Wait—!"

Without having enough time to activate his ability, Chuuya ended up getting squished on the pavement by his girlfriend. He groans while he feels your giggling weight on top of him.

"Baby, you could've at least waited until I activated gravity"

"Whoops, sorry. Are you hurt?"

The gravity manipulator shakes his head but you lean down to kiss him, hoping any bit of physical pain would magically go away. This makes Chuuya smile and envelope you in his arms.

"You are one silly girl, [Name]"

"Can you carry me back home?"

You batted your eyelashes at him and you know it's enough for him to yield. Oh, how can he say no to his eccentric but lovable girlfriend?

Okay, we all know and agree with the fact that DAZAI OSAMU is a black cat. He's both weird and mysterious. So, him being paired up with an orange cat gf seems natural. Black cats are perceived as intelligent and aloof so I had a feeling that you met Dazai during his time at the Port Mafia.

You were nothing but a disposable civilian who had a quirky personality. And yet this quirky personality of yours has managed to capture his heart. You always found Dazai in public places (I mean, he's always wearing dark clothes so he was easy to spot), and you often tried to strike up a conversation with him. When you found out about his suicidal tendencies, you didn't mock or scold him. Weirdly enough, you started giving him more unique ideas on how to off himself.

"Try mixing bleach with a milkshake, I heard you wouldn't even taste the bleach"

Dazai suddenly looked at you with glimmering eyes and proposed for you and him to commit double suicide. Shockingly enough, you agree. So, when you both jump into a river and Dazai ends up being alive but you haven't emerged from the water yet, his body turns cold.

"Oh shit"

He starts to frantically search for you in the water. To his relief though, you finally swam up to the surface with...is that a fish in your mouth?

"Look! I caught one while I was at the bottom of the river!"

From that day forward, Dazai has officially fallen for you. However, he doesn't confess his feelings to you yet. It was not until he left the Port Mafia and began working at the Armed Detective Agency. He hasn't seen you ever since but that doesn't mean he doesn't think of you often. He has dreamt of your face with that fish in your mouth.

The moment you reunited with him felt like destiny. He was chasing a criminal down the street with Kunikida when all of a sudden, the criminal got hit by a car. His breath hitched when he saw you stepping out of the car and rushing to see if the criminal you hit was alright. Dazai felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.

You recognized him immediately and called him by his first name, which made his heart flutter. Dazai felt like he couldn't waste another moment without telling you how he felt. So, just like back then, he offers you to jump off into a river like before in another double suicide attempt. This time, he feels glad that both of you emerged from the water.

At that moment he tells you how he loved you then and now. You tackled him into a hug which sent you both plunging into the water again. But you gave Dazai a proper kiss when you two swam back to land.

I have a feeling that Dazai loves to enable your weird behavior. He'd encourage you to try outrageous things like diabolical food combinations or bungee jumping without the rope (he swears he's not trying to kill you, okay?). He doesn't have to stress about you being harassed by other men since your logic is to behave as crazy as possible so you won't get picked on. But if some bastard persists in bothering you, all Dazai has to do is stand menacingly behind you, truly channeling his scary black cat aura. It's enough to send them away while shitting bricks.

I've mentioned before that you give Dazai suicide ideas, it's clear to him now that it's all satirical. However, when you tried to off yourself once (as a joke of course), thinking it would make your boyfriend laugh, instead he firmly grabs you by the shoulders and gazes at you intently with his black eyes that are void of light.

"Don't ever do that again"

He scared you at first and almost made you cry. Dazai felt bad and apologized to you by cuddling you and feeding you your favorite food. As much as the thought of double suicide excites him, the idea of you dying genuinely disturbs him.

Dates with him aren't expensive. He's down with strolling with you on the streets and kissing on sidewalks or going stargazing on the rooftop with your legs dangling on the edge. He adored your jokes and silly pet names that you would call him. He'd pet your head affectionately like a cat.

Dazai would often indulge in your antics. You two enjoy chasing each other all over the house or outside like cats. You love plopping on top of him and rubbing your cheek against his chest. Even though he's on the skinnier side, Dazai is strong enough to support your weight and carry you around. He too enjoys snuggling against you and stealing all your body warmth.

You two were walking home after another double suicide attempt. Both of you were soaking wet from jumping into the river. People gave you and your boyfriend weird looks as you two entered the local fast food. Dazai was fishing his pockets and chuckling before whispering to you.

"Darling, I may have lost my wallet again"

You paused mid-chew on your burger and blinked at Dazai. You smiled reassuringly at him.

"Don't worry I'll pay—"

Your stomach drops when you can't feel your wallet in your pockets. You cast Dazai a look and he immediately knows it. Both of you looked at your surroundings and back towards each other. Immediately, you and Dazai made a run for it, bolting out of the establishment with one of the employees cussing at the two of you. Dazai couldn't be happier and content spending the remainder of his existence with you like this.

[coffeepaintwater]

pov; your classmate's seeing ghosts at 3am and you just want to piss. alexa play i know by fiona apple

notes/i need to start calling them rants but im a coward:

i hate full illustrations (i can't do background for shit). but, surprisingly this one was a quick thing. i really felt starved for ofa content in the mha fandom (hello btw first time posting anything for yall), but also felt so sad about the fact that these people had to basically die a second time when izuku let go of ofa.

technically, they were only brought together by duty and this need to save people, but i think it would shatter me to interact with such determined souls and then just- not. they've got me feeling some type of way AND THERE'S SO LITTLE CONTENT.

also, i've recently seen someone say that, while all might shouldn't have placed the responsibility of ofa on a kid, no one else should have to bear this burden either. and so, izuku was actually the best option. i think it has to do with the amount of determination he has. because, despite all might NOT KNOWING (!!!) izuku would eventually have to fight all for one, he picked the type of person who would have accepted ofa even if he knew it came with a bigger burden. and while i understand the "izuku is too young to suffer those things", i think this fandom in general focuses on the young age of the characters (which is important to discuss as well) to the point they ignore all the other nuance that comes with the themes of mha. (yes, i am mostly talking about fanfiction. especially those 'dadzawa' ones. stop projecting and go get therapy people, those fics are so ooc.)

izuku's story would be just as tragic if he was a twenty-year-old. all might would have unknowingly ruined/disturbed the life of anyone he gave ofa to. it's just that izuku, despite being a teenager, had what it took to defeat the danger, while anyone else might not have.

but, back to the actual art i post, because despite what it looks like, i'm not an essay account; i've added a watermark!!! it's so tiny you can barely see it but i've had a vision. also i love yoichi he's so drawable. the plan was to actually fit all of the vestiges as reflections but i realized quickly how unrealistic that was for the canvas size i selected and was too lazy to change it. so you get bruce (lee), kudo (fucking gingers) and bbg yoichi. i've learnt a tip for drawing really sharp lighting too so i'm remotely happy with this one.

[bullet-prooflove]

Masochist: Dom Pascal x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @buckysteveloki-me @emma-dawson @noxytopy @toasted-stiletto

Companion piece to:

Slutty - You remind Dom that he has a wife to come home to.

You’re messing with him. Dom knows it the moment he plunges his hand into the pocket of his work trousers and discovers the hot pink pair of panties bundled up inside, still damp from your pussy. He’s at the start of the shift discussing the agenda and trying his best not to get a hard on as his fingers skim over the fabric.

It isn’t until he gets back to his office, the door closed and locked, that he takes them out of his pocket and spreads them out on the desk. You were wearing these this morning before he left, bent over the kitchen island in one of his shirts trying to entice him to stay. He’d left you pouting because he’d promised you the day off together in bed but he’d been called in to cover someone else’s shift. It’s the nature of the job, you’re no stranger to it. You have to do the same as a police captain with the CPD but it doesn’t stop you torturing him, especially since you’re about to be absent from his life for the next couple of days because of a law enforcement conference in LA.

He takes a picture of the underwear sending it to you with the message. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Don’t care, you respond, it’s the only thing you’ll be fucking over the next few days so have fun with them.

Yea, you’re still pretty pissed he picked up that phone. He could have let it go to voicemail but that sense of duty it’s ingrained into him, it always has been.

It’s not about the sex, he gets that. It’s about the intimacy, about spending time together where the focus is squarely on each other instead of the chaos of your professional lives. Instead he gets to spend the next 24 hours fighting fires when he should be fucking his wife senseless before seeing her off at the airport.

What the fuck is wrong with me? He asks himself before slipping the panties into the top drawer of his desk. It’s like he’s some sort of masochist.

You don’t communicate with him much over the next few days. Just a couple of texts to let him know you landed safely, that you got to your hotel. He knows those law enforcement conferences have a work hard, play hard mentality. You’ll be attending seminars by day, networking over drinks by night, he tries not to focus too much it otherwise he’ll get himself all twisted up. Instead he works on his game plan, how he’s going to make this whole thing up to you.

He's supposed to be on a shift when you get back into Chicago instead you find him waiting for you at the airport with a fully loaded sign that reads Ms Pascal. There’s rainbow bubble writing with glitter, and heart stickers, the full nine yards and the perfect contrast to your no-nonsense husband who still has marker staining his fingertips and gold smeared across his cheek.

“I’m an asshole.” He tells you as you step towards him, your rolling suitcase bouncing on the tiles behind you. “A hopeless workaholic who doesn’t deserve a wife as sexy as you.”

“You are saying all the right things to get back in my good graces.” You tell him as your lace your fingers around his neck and press your mouth to his. He tastes like peppermint from the mints he always keeps in his jacket, the ones he crunches between his teeth because he quit smoking two decades ago but still needs something to take off the edge. His arms wrap around your body, drawing you close, his mouth firm and unrelenting as it claims yours. You moan at the sensation, raising up on tip toes so you can press closer.

“I swear to God, if you tell me you have a shift tonight you will be sleeping on the couch for the rest of your life.” You whisper as his forehead comes to rest upon yours.

“No not tonight, tonight I’m all yours” He rumbles, his thumb trailing over your cheek. “I haven’t touched myself since you left, I wanted to save it for you.”

It’s an act of penance for ruining that perfect day the two of you were planning, you don’t get off, he doesn’t get off. Dom, he’s good like that.

“Oh baby.” You tease, linking your fingers through his as the two of you head towards the parking garage. “I’m not gonna make it easy on you, you know that right? I have a lot of frustration to work out, the handcuffs might even come out to play…”

“Do your worst honey.” He murmurs against your temple, thinking about the silver bracelets he’s already left on the nightstand. “I’m at your mercy tonight.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sweetiecelin]

The Blind Leading the Blind

A Sam Winchester x Reader

You and Sam the biggest idiots. Sometimes, when you want to see something you have to take a step back. It's just you and Sam are just into being really good friends. Everyone else can see beside you dumbasses.

A/N: Feedback is very much appreciated, but even just liking it validates me into writing more chapters for this.

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How you started to hunt with the Winchester brothers was a mess. You ended up on the same hunt as them, saved their asses and they saved yours. The demons were some nasty bitches, but it made them realize you may need back up since the case was a setup for you. The Wincesters were just an added bonus. Sam was the one who suggested you start hunting with them, stay at the bunker, especially since you were now a known target of demons and whatever monsters you pissed off in your 5 years of hunting. Dean was against it at first but when you proved to him you knew your shit and a little about cars, he warmed up to you. 

Moving into the bunker was another story. The amount of times that you got lost in what you’d call a maze was unbelievable. Originally you tried to find a room with a bathroom, but unfortunately for you it was a bunker meant for MEN of Letters. You were shit out of luck. The room you picked was 2-3 rooms away from the boys’ (just to maximize your privacy). 

Very quickly you adjusted to your newfound life, found your groove with Sam and Dean. You’d help research and look for cases. It reminded you of living with your brothers, only a less violent homelife. Dean and you discussed the nuances of Scooby Doo, Sam and you would discuss the current books you were reading. You and Sam could go on and on about the damn books, he was like your best friend. Sometimes on those late nights, you and Sam would stay up until about 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning discussing which writer was better or which story had a better plot or commentary. Most of the time, it’d be so late and you’d both be so tired you’d fall asleep in the same bed. But obviously, it was just what friends did.

Sam came over, calling your name to wake you out of your daydream, “Hey, you good?”

Looking up at him, you just smiled softly, “Yeah, I’m good. Doing perfectly fine.”

“What were you thinking about?” He sat down across from you at one of the library tables and placed his laptop in front of him.

With a shake of your head, “It’s nothing. ‘M  just thinking about how we ended up here, or more like how I ended up here.”

Dean walked into the library on his way to the kitchen in that stupid robe of his that he just happened to find, “ ‘Cause you majorly pissed off a lot of people.” 

“Well, yeah of course. But you guys didn’t need to let me stay,” Looking at Dean and then passing a quick glance at Sam, “I’m grateful for it though.”

“We’re happy to have you on our side.”

LORD, why did Sam have to be so nice? He’s been one of nicest people you've met, especially for hunters, but he didn’t need to be. He was so considerate, always asking what you needed before going on a run, always having your back on a hunt. Dean did that too, just not like Sam did. It was probably because you guys were closer than you were with Dean. 

After about 30 more minutes of small talk you went back into your room. It was getting late, so you decided to just change into some leisure clothes. You put on a tank top, some shorts and a flannel. The flannel looked like one of yours, but just bigger. You didn’t mind though, worst case scenario it was one of the boys’. On your way to the kitchen to grab something to drink, you saw Sam working on his computer and cross-referencing some lore books. 

You, again, took the seat across from him, “Whatcha doin’, some boring shit?”.

You threw him a goofy look and he just chuckled, eyes not moving from the laptop, “You could say that.”

“Sam, take a damn break. You’ve been at this all day, reading some lore about a monster for a case we don’t even know is a case yet.”

Sighing, he only looked up at you for a second before turning back to his research, “It’s just not adding up, there are too many differences for a usual haunting or some other monster.”

Leaning over the table, you took a peek at his research, “Wow, you’re kinda ignoring an obvious answer.”

“Oh am I, please look and tell me what I’m missing”, He sarcastically replied. Then he looked up at you, his eyes dipped to the shirt that fell down as you bent over the table to see what he was working on.

“Yeah”, You pointed to the lore book he had in front of him, “If it’s not a ghost or a poltergeist, moving between homes and targeting other people, it’s probably a shadow walker.”

He attempted to pry his eyes away from one of the best views he’s seen before you noticed, surprisingly managing to do so, “O-Oh yeah, such an uhm obvious thing. I can’t believe I missed it.”

Skeptically looking at him, confused as to why suddenly switched up with his voice. You raised an eyebrow to him.

“Sam, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, just tired.”

Seeing his exhaustion, you just sighed, “I’ve told you so many times, you can’t just spend hours looking at something by yourself. You start to miss things because you’re trying to find an answer that isn’t obvious to you, but probably to someone else. Primarily me.”

He chuckled, “..Y’know by now, I should follow your advice.”

“But we both know you’re saying that now, but next time you’re going to completely forget what I told you. So take a break, right now. Talk to me, c’mon.”

The pleading look in your eyes, he couldn’t resist. You started talking to him about one of your shows that you were currently hyper focused on in between hunts. Sam would just get so interested just because you would just start going off about the main character and how she’s completely oblivious to the fact that the villain is actually her best friend and using her. Or how you critique the fact that most of the shows nowadays are filmed in Vancouver, even if they’re based somewhere in the U.S.

After a while Dean came in with some grocery bags, pulling you both out of the tangent that Sam let you go off on.

“So guys, I’m thinking we blow off some steam,” Dean suggested, holding up a bottle of cheap ass whiskey. 

With a mischievous look on your face, you giggled, “And what play 20 questions?”

Sam threw his head back with a loud laugh, when Dean actually agreed.

So now, it was the three of you with a bottle between you. It’s way past 20 questions and you three are just trying to embarrass each other. 

It was Dean’s turn, he already knew most of his brother’s embarrassing stories. The older Wincehster decided he wanted to push your buttons, smoothly mentioning your name, “What’s your most embarrassing sex story?”

“Yeah, um so..” You immediately took a bigass drink from your cup, signaling you’re going to pass.

“Ahhh, so it was that bad? You can't even speak of it?” Dean pressed a little harder, trying to get you to break.

Sam cleared his throat, trying to help you, or rather the pickle you found yourself in, “I think it’s her turn to ask a question.”

Shooting Sam a grateful look but turned slightly apologetic. “So Sam..”, he gulped as he saw the cogs turning behind your eyes and a menacing grin appearing on your lips, while trying not to make it obvious he was staring at them, “What’s your favorite pick up line?”

Dean started looking between you two like he had missed something, when Sam was pulled out of his thoughts, “Are you a magician? Because when I look at you the world just disappears?”

You stare at him for a moment, before cracking up, “Oh my Lord, that’s one of the cheesiest nerdiest lines, I’ve heard. Does it actually work?” 

“Well did it work on you, sweetheart?” Dean rapidly asked which Sam then sent a glare at him.

You shook your head, laughing your ass off, “Oh definitely not, maybe when I was 16 and was one of the dorkiest people there was.”

You took another drink from your cup, before filling it back up. You were determined as hell to keep up with them, not only taking a sip when you wanted to pass the question.

“Sam, it’s your turn to ask a question.”

He wanted to ask a question of the same caliber but settled on picking on his brother, “Dean, what one thing you thought you wouldn’t like but turned out you did?”

Dean thought about it for a second before replying, “Easy, sarsaparilla.”

“My turn,” looking at you, “What’s one thing you look for in a man?”

Caught off guard, you had to think about it for a second before sneaking a glance at Sam, “Someone who shares the same interests and I get along with. Even if we’re both in a bad mood.”

Sam smiled which you returned. He figured you said that because you learned that you’ve got to find someone compatible with and get you like he did, you wanted to be with someone who would feel like your best friend. Feeling satisfied that he helped raise your standards.

This goes on for about another hour before both brothers realized you might be a little too drunk. You kept trying to keep up with them but as they’re two physically inclined men over 6 foot, you didn’t stand a chance. Dean suggested you go to bed, but the moment you tried to walk away, you almost fell on your ass.

Luckily, your best friend was there to catch you. Sam helped you stand and to get to your room as you leaned on him for support.

When the two of you reached your room, you turned and looked at him with a drunken, adoring look in your eyes, “Y’know Sam… You’re kinda my type.”

Stunned, he looked at you with wide eyes before you started giggling uncontrollably. He always thought you looked adorable when you were laughing, so he relaxed a bit.

“I’m sure you’re not even going to remember in the morning, go ahead and just get into bed.”

Helping you stumble to your bed, he goes to throw some blankets over you when you start to unbutton the flannel mumbling, “‘s too hot in here, Sammy.”

He started getting flustered as he moved hastily to get you covered up before he saw anything. Once he did that and started to walk a way your hand shot out and grabbed his.

“Sammy, just cuddle me until I go to bed.. Please Sammy?”

He looked back at you and there was nothing he wanted to do more than to cuddle you, but as a friend(Y’know how friends do). He sighed and just loosened your grip around his wrist, shutting the light off as he left your room and closed the door.

Once he walked back into the library to clean up a little and put things away, Dean was still sitting there at the table. His older brother had this knowing look, with a wide grin on his face.

“What are you laughing about, ya jerk?”

“Oh, nothing,” Taking a gulp of his whiskey, finishing it, “Just love to see such good friends.”

Sam was going to tell his brother off, but before he could Dean hightailed it out of the communal area to his room.

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Also to the one that encouraged to start this @cherrygxth

[vigilantethot]

random headcanons about being Miguel O’hara’s housewife <3

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x fem! Reader

this is mostly SFW

Disclaimer: This is my first fanfic I’ve written in yearsss so pls be easy on me haha. Also the reader is black coded. 

It’s no secret that Miguel works too much. He is under tremendous stress all the time, so it makes total sense that he needs his home to be a safe space, and a calm sanctuary. 

Its also no secret that Miguel is a control freak. He has a schedule that he MUST abide by or he’ll go crazy.

As his wife, you have a HUGE part in his routine.

Miguel takes pride in providing for his loved ones, and early into the relationship he told you he wanted you to have to worry about nothing, to just do whatever your heart desires whether its art, reading, or just laying in bed all day. 

When you first got engaged to Miguel, it was super hard to get used to his schedule, it seemed like he was never home, and you often found yourself feeling useless and insignificant to him. 

Upon communicating this with Miguel after he was late for dinner the third time that week, he instantly made changes to accommodate you into his life. You were his life after all. 

He quickly made sure to start including you in his day, even if he’s at work. The last thing Miguel wants is for you to feel useless, and he would do anything to make you happy. 

Treating you like a princess makes him so happy. Everything you want, you get. Miguel has more than enough resources to cater to your every whim.

Found a new hobby that you’re going to spend hundreds of dollars on only to get bored of it and keep the supplies in your hobby room to collect dust? Sure, go ahead and get everything you need, he just wants you to find your passion!

Now lets get back to the routine: 

You two always started your days in bed, limbs tangled, your head on his chest, his hands rubbing your back.  

After a quick cuddle session, and maybe a little more than that, you two make your way to the kitchen, where you brew coffee, make his breakfast, and discuss your plans for the day. 

Miguel never leaves for work without kissing you at least three times, he says its to “clear his head.”

Miguel likes to keep tabs on you all day. He is a very possessive and overprotective man, and he will go to great lengths to ensure your safety. 

He's constantly texting, asking what you’re doing and how you’re doing. Always asking if you ate (if you didn’t you would be in BIG trouble, it seriously pisses him off when he thinks you’re not taking care of yourself.)

He also has a few cameras in your house, for “safety”. Mainly its just to watch you throughout the day to admire you/check in on you. 

He also always has your location, just in case. 

Miguel calls to check in at least twice a day. Hearing your voice and hearing you talk about the fun things you’ve done calms him, and reminds him why he works so hard. 

You really don’t mind how overbearing Miguel can be, he makes you feel loved and safe. 

Miguel loves to hear about your excursions throughout the day. You just got your hair done? be prepared to send him 100 pictures, and he will save every single one. 

Seriously, his camera roll is just you. 

You went shopping? He wants you to model everything you got, even if its just a bonnet. 

He loves anything you do to your hair, whether its a sew-in, braids, or just cutting it all the way off. He’s so lovesick he would still look at you with heart eyes if you had a bowl cut.

Before he met you, Miguel would never leave his work under any circumstance. But on the days where you go to the salon and look so pretty, he couldn’t resist taking a long break just to see you in person. Of course your fresh hairstyle would be tousled and unkempt by the time he’s done showing his appreciation for your beauty. 

When Miguel gets home, his full attention is on you. 

He loves to come home to you, with your apron on, music playing and the wonderful smell of whatever you made him for dinner. 

After showering and putting on cozy clothes, you two enjoy dinner and just talk about anything and everything. His eyes full of love and adoration as you tell a funny story about something that happened to you that day. 

He always helps clean up after dinner, often splashing you with water of putting soap bubbles on your nose while washing dishes. He can only show this side of himself with you, and that’s why his love for you grows more and more each passing moment. 

After dinner, you two normally unwind on your huge, comfy couch that he custom ordered just to be able to accommodate the both of you. 

You two spend the evening cuddling and watching TV, with him pressing lingering kisses on your neck until he takes you into his huge arms and takes you to bed, where the night can continue ;)

A/N: feedback? requests? message me :)

[plussizefantasia]

Don't Call Me Kitty

Bucky Barnes x Black Cat! Reader

Word Count: 2k

Chapter 1/6

Next>

Warnings: Reader is plus size and it's talked about being somewhat of a negative thing (its not) , language, I think that's it

AN: This is part one of the BlackCat!Reader x Bucky work that I've been working on for a while. It was a request although I can't seem to find the original request anymore. This is part one of six, all fully written but I decided to split it up because this is by far the longest thing I've ever written and I wanted to publish it in chunks. Let me know if you like it, or if the rest of this should just stay hidden in my drafts for all of eternity.

If you had to spend one more fucking minute in the same car as James Buchanan Barnes, one of you would be dying. And you are pretty fucking confident that it won't be you.

 He won't get off your back. Every chance he has it seems like he launches himself at the opportunity to remind everyone that you weren’t always the goody two shoes he thinks you are pretending to be. But God forbid you call him out on the obvious hypocrisy he's spewing because then you’d have to face Rogers and the inevitable tirade he’d go off on about how his best friend was never a bad man, just deeply broken and how the actions he’d taken while under Hydra’s control were not his own.

You don’t take issue with Barnes bringing up your past, it's not a secret. Everyone on the team had at one point been the focus of your ire on one of your bad days and that more often than not led to some sort of discussion where you would disclose more and more about the things you were trying to forget. Your issue with Barnes was that he was trying to insinuate you were one of the good guys. And you’d rather die than admit you were an Avenger. 

You are not, nor will you ever be a good guy. You aren’t necessarily a bad guy, but you are not a goody two shoes. Barnes knows that, he also knows that it pisses you off to no end when he tries to tell everyone that you're acting like one.

“Shoulda seen the way she was sucking up to Fury Stevie, she’s trying to be teacher’s pet I’m tellin’ ya.” You were not sucking up to Fury you were stealing his wallet and trying to distract him so he wouldn’t notice the fifty bucks you lifted, but Barnes didn’t need to know that. 

The worst thing about this hate that you have for James Barnes was the fact that you know deep down you don’t hate him at all. Sure, he pushes your buttons and knows just what to say to get you to want to knock his pretty little teeth out. But he's also a genuinely good guy and most of the time isn't all that bad to be around. But god it's so much easier to hate him than it is to sift through all those feelings. 

There was also the fact that the two of you work well together. You can be bickering one second and covering each other’s sixes flawlessly the next. You have a theory on that though, you think that because both of you had been forced to work with people you didn’t trust very much at one point or another you got used to getting the job done no matter what other feelings were floating around in the background. That's what you try to convince yourself is the case. The idea that you and Barnes simply make a good team is nauseating. 

Barnes isn’t only good to have in the field though, he has proved his worth off the battlefield when he knocked around some poor recruit who had been running his mouth about you in the training gym. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty and honesty you weren’t going to hold his ignorance against him. If he underestimated you because of your size, then that was on him and in a way, was only gonna help you in the long run.

That was something that you had noticed early on, that most people couldn’t fathom that someone who wasn't a size four could be as good at your job as you are. “Most People” also included people on your team, it had taken you saving Tony’s life in the field more than once for him to admit that he was wrong about you. You are still trying to convince Thor that just because you look soft does not mean you can’t still kick his ass. 

You have made people’s lack of faith in you into a good thing. Rich guys aren’t worried about their wallets or watches when a meek little thing bumps into them on the subway and who would suspect the overweight chick to be the one who scales the sides of buildings to get her hands on some unreleased tech from Hammer’s R&D department? Bucky Barnes.

Bucky has never regarded you with the same kind of hesitance as the others. He has never once made it seem like he thought you couldn’t get the job done because you were bigger. And you had to admit, it's refreshing. Not that you need his approval but it's still nice to not be looked at with some kind of doubt, or incredulity. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t piss you off though.

“I swear to God Barnes, if you change the radio station one more time I’m gonna cover your whole arm in fucking extra strength magnets while you're asleep.” An interesting threat sure, but one you will one hundred percent follow through on. 

“The station keeps changing to static, kitty, you want to listen to static for the next three hours?” He asks. He's right, you are both on your way to some ball in Alabama and according to Tony, all the Quinjets are in use for this weekend (bullshit), which leaves you and Bucky to get there the old fashion way, a road trip. 

You're already eight hours in and are currently driving through the small towns and mountains that cover a good section of the south. Which means that the radio is cutting in and out. And yeah he's right, you don’t want to listen to static but you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“I’d prefer the goddamn static over the song changing every five fucking seconds.”

“Well, it’s either that or silence, kitty.”

“First of all Barnes, I’ve told you not to call me kitty. It’s demeaning. Secondly, maybe some silence will do you good, you might be able to hear yourself think for once. If you’re capable of thinking.” You shoot back at him.

“Oh, kitty I have plenty of thoughts I’m pretty sure I think enough for the two of us.” He looks at you without turning his head away from the road, giving you a sidelong glance. 

“Oh yeah, about what? How to get more beefy? Whatever the next idiotic insult you’ll hurl at our resident birdbrain will be? Whether or not you'll get wrinkles from the perpetual furrow in your brow?” 

“I don’t think you want to know what goes on in my head, Mittens.” He pulls his bottom lip up in between his teeth to stop the smirk that is spreading across his face.

“You did not just call me fucking Mittens” Your jaw is practically on the floor. The audacity of this man. 

“You said I couldn’t call you kitty. What are my other options?” 

“Maybe my name? Asshole.” You also have to fight back a smile. Teasing Barnes is nice, it was the closest thing you have to a genuine relationship. Too bad you can’t stand him.

“You memorized your cover?” He asks you. You almost scoffed at him, you're not a goddamn amateur.

“Of, course. I’m Debrah Longborne, Georgian peach and heiress to my Daddy’s large fruit processing fortune.” This mission is a simple one. You're here to take down a corrupt governor and what better place to do than at the gala he and his wife organize every year? You had Tony donate to his wife’s foundation under your cover name. Large enough to draw attention but not too much attention that you can’t get your job done. “And you…?” 

“Brantley Moore, Law professor at Vanderbilt, and your arm candy for the night.” You like going undercover, and this assignment is a short one, just one weekend. It's almost like being another person, just with all your skills and an ulterior motive. 

“Who the hell picked the name Brantley?” You ask.

“I know right, I sound like some preppy douchebag” 

“Not too far off then.”

“Fuck off.” He laughs. You like his laugh. His eyes crinkle in the corners when he does it, a brief glimpse into the years he has lived through, not all sunshine and rainbows, but enough joy to have laugh lines. 

“So Debrah and Brantley met where?”

“Vanderbilt has society mixers every winter, where the professors and some select students get the chance to network with some donors and other important people. It’s a believable story plus there’s over a thousand attendees at these things which makes it easy to slip our names onto the list.”

“And whose idea was that?” you lift an eyebrow. “Mine.” 

“How do you know about the Vanderbilt mixers?” 

“I had a life before I met you, didn’t you know that.”

“I knew you had a life I guess I just didn’t assume it involved rubbing elbows with southern socialites at prestigious university parties.”

“I wasn’t rubbing elbows, it was for a deal made by Peirce with the university president, I was there as a bodyguard for Pierce and to cover our tracks when things inevitably got bloody.” Any hint of teasing falls from Bucky’s voice. He says shit like that sometimes. Shit that you think he says to scare you or to remind you how dangerous he was. All it does is make you sad. Nobody deserves to go through what he had, and you hate that those evil bastards had taken a great man and mangled him. 

The conversation peters out after his revelation. The two of you ride in silence for the next two hours. Thirty minutes in, you get closer to the city and the radio sputters back to life. Bucky reaches to turn it off. 

When you finally reach the hotel both of you are a bit on edge. You’ve been driving all day, switching back and forth every few hours but Bucky’s silence for the last little stretch seems to have affected both of you more than you’d thought.

Still, you have a job to do and you’ll be damned if you let the metal-armed nuisance ruin your reputation for perfect follow-throughs. You grab your small weekender bag out of the backseat and make your way to the front desk. You school your features and dust off the southern belle persona that has been stashed away in your metaphorical conman toolbelt.

You can feel Bucky trailing behind you, and an idea pops into your head. Swiftly turning on your heel you pass your bag into his unoccupied hand. Not giving him a chance to say no you rotate back around and march forward at a pace fitting to a very busy society woman. 

Bucky sputters behind you and you toss over your shoulder, “If I’m playing an heiress this weekend, I'm not lifting a goddamn finger if I don’t have to.” 

Marching the rest of the way to the desk you flash the young woman behind the counter a polite smile, “Room for Longborne”. She immediately matches your smile and begins typing away on her keyboard pulling up the reservation that was made for your cover.

“Of Course Ms. Longborne, I have you down for the Iris sweet for three nights is that correct?”

“Sounds correct to me, although if you could hold the room for one more day that would be just peachy of you, we don’t know how long our business here is going to take and it’s better to be safe than sorry. You understand of course.” You put every ounce of Southern charm into your words and pray to God that this interaction can be over sooner rather than later.

“Of course Ms., Here are your keys. Your room is on our twelfth floor and the number is embossed on the front of the card.” She hands you a package of three cards across the desk. “If you need anything at all don’t hesitate to call.”

You nod, taking the key cards from her hand, and motion for Bucky to follow you to the elevator. 

The ride up to the twelfth floor is silent, much like the last stretch of the car ride. What you aren’t expecting is Bucky’s exclamation when he walks into the room before you.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” The first words Barnes has uttered in nearly two hours. “There's only one fucking bed.”

[amethystwrytes]

Safe (Part Seven)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem. Reader X Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous. 

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only MDNI.

Chapter WC: 3.5K

~ Part Seven ~ (Series M. List Here)

Two vibrant, undeniably visible pink lines scream at you from the bathroom countertop. 

“What does it say?” Seungmin hobbles up behind you. 

“Get out! God, you fucking leech! I’m literally staring at a plastic stick dripping with my piss here, can I get a minute to myself?!” you scream and shove him out the door, he stumbles back and hits the opposite wall with a thud as you slam and lock the bathroom door. 

“I guess I’ll take that as a positive then!” he yells, “Hormonal asshole! I’ve just been shot in the leg today, no big deal!” you hear him hobble back down the hallway. 

Actually it’s a double positive, since you’ve taken two tests. One might be a dud, right? It happens. It’s possible. You, as a nurse, had personally never seen a false positive on a pregnancy test, but you hear things, right? It’s happened. So you squeezed out a little more pee for test #2, after all, that’s probably why they give you two in a box anyhow. Yet even with barely enough urine to soak the stupid scratchy tip of the test, the lines were so clearly there that you had no choice but to believe them. 

“Fuck.” 

The word comes out in a choked sob as you sit back down on the toilet, your face in your hands. 

How? You are a fucking nurse. How did you let this happen? 

Working at the hospital had always had its perks, like how you could just drop into gynecology, sign a paper, and have the nurse give you your shot, most of the time it was someone you knew and were friendly with. It was convenient, it was easy, you were able to do it on your breaks for goodness sake. You never made an appointment or anything, so there wouldn’t be any kind of reminder from the office to come back to stay on schedule. Evidently you were the type of person who needed them though, because here you sit on a toilet, in a house that doesn’t belong to you, pregnant with…

With whose fucking child? You laugh, audibly laugh, and it slowly turns into sobs. You don’t even know who the father is. Hyunjin? Minho? One of them, obviously. You’ve been fucking them both longer than six weeks, which is what you put yourself at if you’re getting nauseous and vomiting. Of course you can’t know for certain, that will have to be confirmed at an obstetrics appointment, which you will now have to go to, routinely. 

The words abortion, adoption flash in your mind. You did not plan this, you did not want this. Yet even as you sit here, drops of pee all over the place, sobbing into your hands, you can’t quite seem to change the “did not want” to “do not want” in your head. 

“I do not want this,” you say it out loud, because maybe you just need to audibly hear yourself say it, but it comes out as a complete and utter lie. You feel in your very heart that it’s a lie. 

“I want this,” you whisper, the ghost of a smile spreading across your lips, and suddenly the scared and ugly tears are replaced with a sense of overwhelming excitement. “I want this.” 

You clean up the bathroom and roll up the pregnancy tests in a paper towel, you have no idea why you feel like saving them, but you roll them up anyway. 

When you walk back into the kitchen Seungmin is sitting at the table, his bandaged leg propped up on a chair, “Well?” 

“I’m pregnant,” you state, shocked at your own calmness, picking up your supplies from patching him up earlier to put them back where they belong. 

“Shit,” he whistles low, “Well what are you going to do?” he asks. 

“Have a baby, Seungmin, that’s what I’m going to do.” 

“Do you really think-...”

“What I really think is you should shut your mouth, because you have absolutely zero fucking opinions that matter regarding this, do you want to try me Kim Seungmin? I dare you.” 

“No ma’am.” 

“Good then.” 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

When Minho, Hyunjin and Jisung walk through your door later that evening your very blood turns to ice; an indescribable feeling of excitement, fear, elation and dread consuming your every fiber. 

“How’s the leg?” Hyunjin asks Seungmin, smacking the back of his shoulder. 

“It’s uh,” he looks at you nervously which causes the other three men to look at you as well, “It’s fine. Doc here stitched me up.” Smooth Seungmin, smooth as silk you fucking twat. 

“Did you all get into a wrestling match or something? What’s with the vibes?” Jisung teases. 

“Nothing,” Seungmin answers too fast, “take me home Han, can I get some pain meds or something?” he looks in your general direction but refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“Already sorted them out,” you say pointedly, sliding a little bag across the table, “don’t take them all at once, that would be a pity.”

He sneers at you then stands up, hobbling towards the door, “Han. Now.” 

Jisung closes the refrigerator he was about to descend upon and scurries over, “Shit, okay.” 

You watch as the two of them disappear and close the door. You can feel Minho and Hyunjin staring you down. 

“Did he say something to you again? Because if so we can drag his ass back in here and set it straight,” Minho asks. 

“No,” you shake your head and sit down, “No, he just knows something that you don’t,” you look up at him, terrified of how the next few minutes will play out. Wondering if you shouldn’t bring it up right now, but knowing you’ve said too much not to at this point. 

“What would that be?” Minho frowns. 

“I found out today…” your voice waivers which only seems to concern both men more. 

“Found what out, sweetheart?” Hyunjin sits next to you, his fingers caressing your forearm. 

You pick a spot on the table to look at, because you can’t bring yourself to look at either of them, “I’m pregnant.” 

Silence. Well, the only sound is Minho pulling out the other dining chair for himself, probably so he doesn’t collapse where he stands. 

The three of you sit there for several moments in just total and complete silence. The hum of the ceiling fan sounding more and more like nails on a chalkboard with every passing second. 

“What do you want to do, baby?” it’s Hyunjin that speaks first, and you can tell that he is trying to keep any emotion from his expression, but you can’t tell if he’s hiding a reaction that’s good or bad. 

“I want,” you exhale slowly, “I am going to be a mother, I will not abort this pregnancy, I do not want to talk about adoption. I will not discuss either, and I don’t want to hear it.” 

At this Minho stiffens, his face contorting into something between disgust and hurt, “___, baby, I would never ask you to do something you didn’t want…we���Hyunjin and I…” he stops talking and chuckles. 

“How do we want to do this?” he looks at you and Hyunjin. You know what he’s really asking is  what the fuck is the plan on raising a baby with three parents? but you also don’t have an answer to that. 

“Let’s please not worry or talk about that right now,” you laugh painfully, “I can’t deal with that part right now. Obviously one of you…you know…impregnated me,” you clear your throat, “but there’s no way for me to know who at this point, not without a DNA test and honestly…I love both of you so I just don’t think I want to know, does that make sense?” 

“Makes sense to me,” Hyunjin smiles and effectively ends that part of the discussion, “We’re having a baby?” his voice drips with elation and every muscle in your body relaxes. 

You nod, happy tears brimming your lids, “Yes.” 

“We’re having a baby,” Minho laughs, and you’re surprised to see tears in his eyes as well.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“You know,” you sit at the bathroom vanity applying your moisturizer when Minho steps out of the shower, “I was terrified to tell you.” 

“Me specifically?” he points to his naked chest. 

“Honestly? Yes…” 

Minho nods and gnaws at his lip, “I guess I deserve that, but I promised you I’d never give you another reason to be scared of me, and I meant it - you never have to be scared of me baby.” 

“I wasn’t scared that you’d be mad at me, I don’t think, I guess I just thought you’d be upset at the idea of having a child. We are not a traditional couple in any way shape or form, so we’ve not really talked about traditional things, like marriage or babies or futures. I didn’t know what you wanted for your life, I still don’t I suppose,” you explain. 

He sits next to you on the bench, “Seola…” his voice cracks at the mention of his late wife's name, “she wanted children, she wanted to be a mother,” he covers his mouth with his hand and squeezes his eyes shut, tears roll down his cheeks and you throw your arms around him. 

“I am so sorry,” you sob with him, “I’m so sorry you lost her, lost your life with her, a future with her. Minho, I’m so sorry.”  

He cries into the small of your neck for a moment before taking a deep breath and righting himself. 

“When the words first came out of your mouth, I felt so guilty, because all I could think about was how she was robbed of that moment, that moment she would get to tell me she was pregnant, but I was so happy anyway, happy without her - it doesn’t seem fair, or right.” 

“It’s not,” you cup his face, “It is not fair.” 

“I was always undecided,” he sniffs, “Part of me, of course, adores the thought of having a son or daughter to raise, to love, someone who can become my whole world and someone to leave a legacy to but then I look around, at the guns, at the murder - is that really what I want to leave anyone with, let alone someone I love so much? Which actually,” he sighs,  “Actually that brings me to something I’ve been thinking about the past couple hours.” 

“What?” 

“I own lots of properties, here in the city and surrounding areas primarily, some are safe houses, some are renters for additional income, but there’s one property, one that absolutely no other soul on Earth knows I own, it’s a last resort - my ‘absolutely have exhausted all options and efforts’ backup - located in Applecross, Scotland,-” 

“Scotland?” you snort, “That is the most random thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth. I don’t think I’ve ever once heard you utter the word Scotland,” you chuckle. 

“There’s a reason for that, and now you’re the only other person who knows I own a house there,” he says, an uneasy expression on his face. 

“Why are you telling me?” 

“Because I want you to go there, you can take Hyunjin with you if you want, and when all this shit is over I’ll come join you - we can have the baby there, and someday when the dust settles we can come back here, but you’ll be safer-” 

“No,” you shake your head. 

“You won’t even hear me out?” he argues. 

“No, I won’t, I’m not going anywhere, not without you, I won’t,” you look at him, fighting back tears. 

“But you’ll be safe there,” he continues. 

“Physically? Maybe, but my heart will break if I can’t see you, if I don’t know what’s happening here, happening to you. I will spend every moment miserable and I don’t want it,” you tell him seriously. “No. I will not go.” 

“Fine, okay,” he nods, pushing his wet hair back out of his face. “I’m not going to argue with the mother of my child,” he smirks, “but promise me that you’ll think about it, it really is a lovely location - a little foggy - but if things get too heated here, please remember what I’ve said.” 

“I will keep it in the back of my mind, but I’m not going anywhere without you,” you lean over and kiss his lips. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your mouth, “I love you so much.” His hand finds purchase on your stomach, his fingers fanning out across, “I’m so happy for us.” 

Hyunjin is relaxed on a chair, doodling in his sketchbook when you and Minho emerge from the master bath. 

You frown, “Why are you not in your pajamas? Are you working tonight…again?” 

Hyunjin sets the book down, “I am. Changbin, Felix and I have a meeting with one of Parks guys, they have some intel on the storehouse Jeongin and Seungmin scouted. Park has dabbled in Taehyungs heroin deals in the past, he’s had guys in the building, we’re going to try and map it out so we know exactly where we’re going  the night it all goes down,” he explains with a yawn. 

“You’re all so tired,” you shake your head, “I worry about your clarity.” 

“Don’t worry baby,” he scoots to the edge of the chair, nuzzling his nose against your belly, “Tonight will be friendly, we’ll play cards and smoke and talk, I’ll try to draw out a map based on the information, no danger, promise.” 

“When do you have to leave?” you ask, glancing at the wall clock, just after 10:30pm. 

“Hmm, probably around midnight, that’s usually when they all meet up at their little club house,” he chuckles, “Why?” 

You grin, biting at your lip as you pull the ribbon on your bathrobe, slowly exposing your nudity underneath. 

“I have been insatiably horny the past few days, I guess I know why now,” you giggle, “unfortunately the horniness seems to be constantly competing with unimaginable nausea, but as of this moment, guess who isn’t nauseous?” 

Minho licks his lips and stands behind you, tugging at the opening of the robe, helping it fall gently down your shoulders and arms. 

Hyunjin smiles, dropping to his knees and lifting one of your legs up to rest on the chair he was previously sat on, “I can’t imagine what you’re going through baby,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over the flesh of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps. 

“Let’s take special care of our girl,” Minho says, his lips on the shell of your ear, his delicate fingers gently massaging your breasts. 

“I like the sound of that,” you chuckle. 

Hyunjin uses his fingers to spread you open, placing a gentle kiss against your clit and your head rolls back, resting on Minhos shoulder as you let out a soft breath. 

“Fuck,” Minhos voice is raspy and dark in your ear, “I love watching him eat you out, it’s so fucking hot.”

“Mmm,” is all you can muster as an agreement. 

Hyunjin is being soft tonight, delicate, savoring. You can feel yourself practically dripping around his tongue, his lips. Your eyes close, the sound of his soft kisses and wet licks consuming you, your need to orgasm so heavy that it aches. It’s his little whimper into your pussy that pushes you over the edge, poor Minho takes the brunt of your full weight as you dig your fingers into Hyunjins scalp, riding out your high on his face. 

Hyunjin stands, pressing himself, with his hard erection against your front, capturing your mouth with his sopping wet lips. You can feel Minho stroking your hair, his cock pressed against your backside. You turn around to face him, gently pushing him back onto the bed behind. 

He shimmies out of his pants before scooting back onto the pillows as you crawl over him, dipping your head down to kiss trails up his thighs. His hard length throbbing, tip dark and waiting eagerly for relief. You spit, his eyes widening as he watches your saliva drip down his shaft before you take it into your fist and pump, causing his head to fall back onto the pillows while you work him slowly. 

Meanwhile, you feel Hyunjin behind you, his hips rutting against your backside, seeking permission to fill you from behind, which you’re more than happy to give. 

“Hard or soft baby?” Hyunjin rasps, straining against you. 

“Soft and slow, and deep,” you reply. You sink your mouth onto Minhos cock as Hyunjin pushes into you, inciting a collective moan from each of you simultaneously. 

If someone had asked you where you thought you’d end up when you agreed to work for Lee Minho, you could’ve given so many answers. I’ll end up rich. I’ll end up in jail. I’ll end up living comfortably for the first time in my life. I’ll end up dead. The list of possible answers was long. However, I’ll end up in a state of complete euphoric pleasure, wedged between two men I love, one of which being the biological father to my unborn child, was never, ever something you’d think of, or even dream up for that matter. 

You barely register Hyunjin groggily getting out of the bed to retreat to the bathroom for a quick wash before venturing off to map out drug houses and smoke cigarettes over cards. The warmth of Minhos body has you cocooned in a heavy blanket of peacefulness, his fingers gently scratching against your scalp. Your eyes are so heavy you don’t even attempt to open them. If you could bottle this moment, retreat back to it anytime you feel afraid or anxious, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

“Love you guys,” you hear Hyunjin whisper as he heads out the bedroom door. 

“Love you too,” Minho responds for the both of you, you’re too tired to speak, but you drift off with a smile on your lips. 

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

You sleep late and wake up feeling better than you have in several days, though the nausea is there, bubbling under the surface. You decide to make some lemon ginger tea, and get up to do just that. You’ve got things to do today, like try and find an OBGYN who doesn’t know who you are for starters. You plan to set up a space in the kitchen to do some investigating over your tea.

In your kitchen however, sits Hyunjin, Minho, Felix and Changbin, all looking smug and happy with themselves. 

“Did I miss something?” you wonder as you retrieve the items you need for the tea. 

“Parks guy was more than helpful,” Hyunjin smiles, “He had pictures of the warehouse on his phone, we’ve got everything. Room by room.” 

“That’s good?”

Minho grins, “It’s great baby. Not only are we going to get my fucking guns back, but I’m going to burn his shit to the ground, every ounce of Heroin he’s got is going to go up in flames. Let’s try and watch him replace that.” 

“What happens after that?” you ask, a nervous feeling in your stomach. 

“What happens after that is this shit between Kim Taehyung and I ends, for good.”

Endnotes:

This is an extremely trying and scary time for women right now, and I want to make it very clear that I am 100% Pro-Choice 100% of the time. For the sake of this story, my OC is choosing to continue her pregnancy, but there is no deeper meaning or message that I'm trying to send by writing it that way, and given the current state of things, I personally needed people reading this to know that.

This is a shorter chapter because for me this is a very transitional chapter as we prepare to dive a little deeper into the heavier criminal aspects of the story. I wanted to obvs confirm OC's pregnancy since I left Ch. 6 off with a very "is she/isn't she?" type deal. I also wanted to establish Minho and Hyunjins attitude about it all. Some of you may have anticipated our Minho to go completely off the deep end, but in the end, I just didn't want him to be like that. Anyway, now that I've rambled, as usual here's your virtual smooch and I'll tag my beautiful taglist besties in the replies bc that is so much easier for me. Thanks for being kind and patient while I went through my little dark period. 🫂💜

[whohasthecards]

Hangman, like Mav, was always sent on suicide missions. However, unlike Mav, Hangman didn't have a guardian angel like Iceman or the other Flyboys who would have his back after Top Gun. And unlike Mav who had the Flyboys, Carole, and Bradley, Hangman didn't have anyone to look forward to after his deployment. He had Javy, but Javy would move on.

It would be better if he was the one who died. No one would mourn him. No one would miss him.

That changed with the dagger squad

Hangman got sent on a last minute mission where the Dagger Squad, and even Iceman were not informed until he was already flying in the air.

Once Maverick and Iceman reviews the details of the mission, their blood went cold once they both realized that the mission was unnecessary reckless, and dangerous. It was bad enough to be considered a suicide mission.

But it was too late to call off the mission, it was all up to Jake and his team now.

Mav and Ice spend their days worrying, especially with Ice burying himself in paperwork trying to figure out how this flew under his radar. The Dagger Squad notice their tenseness, but they weren't told what was going on because Mav and Ice didn't want to worry them.

During the mission, Hangman broke several rules and direct orders to save his colleagues and by extension, his life, and he got a dressing down immediately after landing his jet. He wasn't brought to the sick bay, he was immediately brought to the office for an extensive debrief, where all of Hangman's actions were scrutinized and judged. Hangman stayed calm.

Maverick and Iceman arrive because they were keeping tabs and come in while Hangman was getting yelled at. Maverick looks at Jake, taking note of his disheveled looks and tense jaw, and how behind his steely gaze was an undercurrent of deep exhaustion. Iceman noticed how the commanders were reaming into Jake for every single, little, thing, when it was a miracle that there was no casualties on their side. Jake's actions saved the mission that was destined to fail, and saved the lives of the other aviators.

Maverick and Iceman loses their shit.

How dare they not care about their aviator? How dare they recklessly send them to unnecessary suicide missions? How dare they act pissed at the aviator that save the mission and their lives?

---

Mav felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping his tirade at the Admiral in front of him. He turned and his glare softened once he realized it was Jake, unsteady on his feet, but gently holding him back.

"What is it, buddy? You can sit down, you don't have to keep on standing," Mav fretted as he tried to get Jake to sit down on the chair.

"It's okay, pops," Jake said giving a small smile. "I was the best choice for the mission, especially missions like this, it's better that they send me, instead of someone that has a family."

"No." Iceman simply said. "Don't say shit like that Lieutenant Jacob Seresin."

"But it's true--"

"Enough, Jacob, it is not true, and we will be discussing this later," Ice sternly said as he turned back towards the admirals. "No one should have been sent to a mission without enough preparation and analysis, and you shitheads barely did any. You made my aviator fly, blind. Your careers are done for."

"Come on Jake, let's get you to the sick bay, let Ice take care of this, okay?" Mav said forcefully leading Jake out of the room to get the care he needs.

---

(Once Jake gets back stateside and the rest of the Dagger Squad finds out what happened, he gets showered by affection from all of them proving that he has been missed and he will be missed.)

[bestiainfinita]

I had a discussion on Instagram about Eurylochus and wanted to share it here , the post where this conversation happened is irrelevant but it was about Eurylochus and the end of the Thunder Saga, anyways I made a comment and this guy’s responded:

Then I responded with this across some comments (I chose not to use screen caps for most of my things because they are a lot of comments and it might be over the limit of them, and I had the stuff I said saved):

Lol what are you in buddy???

First of all, since the start Eurylochus has had one objective in mind just like Odysseus, Eurylochus wanted to protect the crew and to get them home while Odysseus wanted to go home to be with his son and wife, that’s the main reason the diversion between Eury and Ody happened, because Ody cared more about getting home than about the crew, while Eury cared more about the crew than getting home.

In ‘Full Speed Ahead’ (Song 03) he tells Ody that they are out of food and they need to feed THE CREW so he asks the captain / king what they should do, because that’s is what he’s supposed to do, he proposes attacking and just taking the food because he wants to ensure food for the crew no matter what, this is also proveen in ‘Polyphemus’ (Song 06) when the first thing he says is “There are enough sheep here to feed the entire fleet” he was thinking about the crew again. Then in ‘Remeber Them’ (Song 09) he’s the one who ask “But captain, what do we do with our fallen friends?” because he CARES about the crew.

Also he not only cares about the crew but he cares about Odysseus too (he’s part of the crew but anyways), this is better shown in ‘Luck Runs Out’ (Song 11); “You could be caught off guard and lose your life” “I just don’t wanna see another life end” “You are like the brother I could never do without”.

Then in the same song (‘Luck Runs Out’) we understand why he opened the wind bag. He was afraid, he was afraid of the Gods and what they might do to him, Odysseus and the crew; “You could be caught off guard and lose your life” “Or piss off this God and infuse us with strife” “Don’t forget how dangerous the gods are”.

Now the Circe thing, y’all have very selective hearing and didn’t understood Eury at all, he is still afraid during this song (‘Puppeteer’ Song 14); he’s afraid of a Goddess, of Circe, he gave those men for dead because they were captured by a literal Goddess, and he is also afraid of what she might to to Odysseus and the rest of the crew if they try to face her; “Think about the men we have left before there’s none, let’s just cut our loses, you and I, and let’s run” “What if she can’t be killed!? — Will you chose to leave?”

By the way, I would like to point out that in this song (‘Puppeteer’) Odysseus says “There’s no length I wouldn’t go, if it was you I’d have to save, I can only hope you’ll do the same…” and Eurylochus responds by literally doing that, by trying to stop Odysseus from going into that suicidal mission, (let me remind y’all that the only reason Odysseus stood his ground against Circe was thanks to Deus Ex Hermes).

And another thing, some of you people like to say Eurylochus wanted Odysseus gone or blasphemy like that, then why didn’t he killed him in ‘Mutiny’ (Song 24), he had Odysseus stabbed and defenseless but he didn’t killed him, he and the crew just restrained him and treated all of his wounds, they didn’t want him dead, they just couldn’t trust him anymore and therefore couldn’t have him as his captain.

Then they said this (ignoring stuff I already talked about):

And finally I finished the conversation and responded with this:

1. I literally addressed the Circe situation in my previous comments, and explained how he gave those men for dead because to save them they would have had to fight a LITERAL GODDESS (remember they just lost 11 ships / more than 500 men to another God), and again, the only reason Ody won / was able to talk it through was thanks to Hermes’s intervention.

2. Again, I believe the treasure was a misdirection, and the real reason was fear, as I have explained before / in my previous comments.

3. If he wanted to forget what he did and act like nothing have happened, he wouldn't even have confessed in the first place, so it's obviously not about that.

4. That part was a metaphor, see how it is similar to 'Luck Runs Out' in the way that one was talking as a friend and the other as his title, in 'Luck Runs Out' Odysseus is the one talking as a friend while in 'Mutiny' Eurylochus is the one talking as a friend (we know because he called him "Ody" instead of "Captain"), so he was talking one on one and Odysseus was responding talking about himself about how HE wanted to go back to HIS kingdom HIS son and HIS wife ignoring what Eurylochus was saying to him as well as his concerns (like he did in ‘Luck Runs Out’), then the crew jumps in showing Odysseus that all of the crew thinks the same, that they are all tired, that they are all hurt, and that they are all hungry, something that Odysseus's own suffering has made him oblivious to, and now he tries to talk to the crew, to calm them and convince them, but he has already shown them that his priority is himself, so they ignore his pleading and try to give themselves comfort in the only way they currently can, try so solve the only problem they as mere men are able to, and so they killed the cattle to eat.

[squirrelno2]

Ok so Davrin! I have Thoughts about Davrin.

Because if you’re aware at all of the stuff I write you’re probably aware that I am a big fan of the kind of character who subsumes their own desires and survival and personhood for the sake of being One Thing, whether that’s a living weapon/made to be a soldier situation or just a “I am Your Best Friend first and foremost situation”. It is, uh. Small wonder I end up liking characters of colour the most, since those are the ones most often written with a Purpose in the story who don’t get to expand beyond that Purpose in the narrative, or if they do have that arc that I crave it’s still underrepresented in fanworks so it becomes my favourite and most frustrating niche where I have to create the content I want to see in the world, which is “person who tries to ignore their own needs gets to realise they’re allowed to love and be loved whether or not they’re useful”. Please be aware that while I don’t specifically discuss Davrin’s Blackness in the next few paragraphs it is a large part of why I’m writing this now because it massively changes the way this story gets read, both because people with unexamined biases will gloss over his story and just accept Davrin as being a tool to the story instead of a person and also because those of us who are aware now must consider how to address such a storyline knowing that Black people most of all are reduced in their stories to things and plot points.

So getting back to Davrin in particular I am both obsessed with and frustrated by how he’s written because! His narrative is such a good example of this trope! He is a monster hunter, and to a lesser extent at the start a protector, and from the moment we meet him he is trying very hard to keep himself shut in that box. He downplays any effect he has on the griffons, is upset at the idea of taking care of Assan because that’s what the others are there for, he’s just the sword arm. As time goes on and we do things like, you know, fight an archdemon without getting our Warden buddy killed, he seems so lost and almost devastated to have not died when he was “supposed to” – and this is a man who doesn’t really seem suicidal at all, he has no real desire to die, he just. Expects to. And what he can do to save others is always more important to him than what he could do to save himself. When my Rook walked in there expecting to be overjoyed with him that they were both still around I have to think the gap in emotion was so jarring to both of them, because like. This man has accepted his own death in the face of the “greater good” for so long that he never once made a contingency plan or even wild hope for “what if I don’t die?” And it’s so cool that he and my Rook got to walk hand in hand through danger and decide they deserve to be happy! It’s so cool that you get to potentially get him through the entire game and into a life with open possibilities and who knows what kind of future for the Wardens! That’s my shit!

And while I can’t say I’ll never choose the Grey Warden option for the griffon choice, to me that is so much a metaphor about letting yourself become a weapon vs finding peace and joy that is in line with you as an individual that if I’m playing the game acting on my conscience, not a Rook who’s further from me, I will always choose Arlathan for them. Because that’s so obviously a metaphor for Davrin’s own growth as a character.

This is where it pisses me off, though – too much of that metaphor is treated literally. Davrin doesn’t verbally acknowledge what the griffons’ changing role means for him, and I’m unsure if an unromanced Davrin ever says anything about planning for the future, having only gotten through the game once thus far. The fucking epilogue where all the companions say a little line about what’s in their future and Davrin just mentions the griffons and not his own fucking life??? Like he had a little line about pursuing romance or whatever but again. That’s a romanced Davrin. If he and my Rook hadn’t vibed “the griffons found a new home in Arlathan” or whatever would have been presented as the sole culmination of Davrin’s character arc. I love coparenting a griffon as much as the next guy but we cannot replace the “sword arm” persona with a “griffon daddy” persona as though him subsuming his needs and wants for the sake of Assan is any better for him than doing it for the Wardens. What the fuck.

Anyway short version of all that is Davrin has my favourite kind of story, and griffons are a metaphor for the way Wardens treat themselves. and the POINT of me writing all that is that you cannot approach his story without acknowledging that the fact that he’s a Black man means people who work/ed on both canon and fan content are ready and willing to treat him as a tool in his own fucking storyline for the sake of an animal, and he deserves so much better because holy hell if you’re gonna write a Black man with this kind of “I exist for a Purpose alone” arc you have got to pay attention to what you’re doing. Please. his story involves Assan but it's not about Assan it's about him.

[ahavaas]

saw a couple of posts discussing wei wuxian's canonical approach to information sharing, ie It's Responsible to give your loved ones the precise amount of information needed to get them to make good choices of their own free will.*

(smarter people have written the meta about that *gestures vaguely* Whole Deal.) instead, let's consider that can of worms + his cnc kink + the whole pile of Debts (paid and unpaid, perceived and unperceived) between him and jiang cheng.

listen. disastrous yunmeng bros reconciliation attempt take one (1), chengxian flavor.

oh no, Something is Mysteriously Wrong with wei wuxian! jin ling has been Specifically Ordered not to mention anything about it to jiang cheng. of course those beans get spilled immediately. (sum total knowledge gained: there is something Mysteriously Wrong with wei wuxian, lan wangji is super-duper pissed about it, and everyone is being squirrelly about the situation in a way that suggests it's (quelle horror) sex-adjacent.)

what is Mysteriously Wrong with wei wuxian? some kind of long term poisoning!

the only cure? dual...cultivation...??

why can't lan wangji fix this with his dick? well. the core transfer. the resurrection spell. etc etc etc. jiang cheng is probably the only guy who could fix it for (magical bullshit core transfer reasons), but don't worry, sect leader jiang, no one was going to bother you, they'll figure something else out! no one here owes anyone anything!

and jiang cheng's like okay so you're a moron. you don't get to wander off and die, jin ling is (unfortunately) attached to you. i'll break your legs if you die and make my nephew sad. another thing: i'm only agreeing to do this now because zewu-jun doesn't deserve the political headache when the poison gets worse and lan wangji kidnaps me out of my bed and ties me to yours.

(wwx objects - lan zhan would never! - but crumbles. if there's something wrong with wei wuxian and dual cultivation with jiang cheng is really the only way to fix it, yeah of course that's what would happen.)

and the thing is! it actually goes better than anyone expected! sure, yeah at first they're biting at each other (literally; wei wuxian's previous experience is lan wangji and jiang cheng is, shall we say, similarly unexperienced, so it's clumsy and weird) but the stupid poison is gonna take several applications of magical healing core to fix, and they're in the same room, it's not like this is something they can do in silence**.

points i have not decided to my satisfaction:

the degree to which the Mysterious Ailment is total bullshit, on a scale of "real problem that wei wuxian is exaggerating/selectively editing to encourage jiang cheng to participate" to "wei wuxian is poisoning himself to make the statement "i have been poisoned" technically true.

the degree to which jiang cheng is aware that the Mysterious Ailment is bullshit

the level of conscious resentment on either party's side

(wei wuxian: jiang cheng thinks he owes me for the golden core thing? no problem! of course it's not a big deal and he doesn't owe me anything but i'll give him a chance to "save my life" to "repay the favor" :) :))

*'what wei wuxian wants'/'good choices' should be assumed synonymous for this pretend

** an attempt was made. the attempt failed.

[issa-pheonyx]

Since you did goth yan what if you did a twist on that and did goth reader ?? 😵‍💫

Could be paired with any character but im imagining re2 leon being both really attracted to but also really scared of the reader

𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗲𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗮 𝘆𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗜 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱! 𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝗵!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗟𝗲𝗼𝗻. 𝗦𝗼, 𝗹𝗲𝘁'𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻~👀🖤

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-Okay, to start off with people (friends and his coworkers at the department) would find it both strange, yet curious based on witnessing you guys standing together. The rookie with a goth? Now way-oh you were not joking. How the hell was he able to even talk to someone so highly different?

-Now crushing on you may have been the way you were attractively intimidating from the looks seeing how he never met someone like yourself in his life. Of course, there are trolls who have talk shit on the stereotypes which you were not phased by it (as you should💅🏽) , however the rookie cop was not having it, defending you like a guarded puppy to you

-He sees you that you are really talented and protective of your creativity amongst the arts, having strengths of independence and respect for all aesthetics even for being called a 'weirdo' for being goth, etc. He would praise and worship you for having such a unique style and do not let anyone get to you, because those who are basic or just have no taste would usually copy off or project themselves onto you, because you happily and lovingly express yourself

-As more to discuss on the being scared of you part, yes, not going to lie he was shitting bricks when he made the first move. Lets say a scenario of you being involved in a scene saving someone's life who had a knife, but you were not afraid and had the courage to fight off the bastard and wield a pocket knife like it's nothing. He thought you were scary cause how did you get him pinned and second of all what the fuck was the knife doing against his neck you could just threw it aside until the cops came

-So, yes he is scared of you cause of the 'the more you fuck around, the more you're going to find out' energy you hold and having the biggest dick energy cause goddamn you is the shit and you can pull your own weight. Sure, he had stalked caught you intruding an abandoned cathedral, because it looked so pretty outside you just want to see inside so badly. This was a good excuse for him to talk to you more and more as you both walked around, you're taking pictures and videos here and there, and he sticks around you like a damn puppy smiling as you tell him more about your style cause he is genuinely curious

-You and him developed a genuine friendship since you were usually just known as the goth instead of you as a person with other individuals/groups. Leon really wanted to get to know you more and more, but the issue is there are people who will find ways to pick on you both. Leon as the rookie cop and you as the goth crush. People would laugh at the thought of him taking a liking of you cause again you guys are opposites

-Thankfully, you would shut them down with respect, maturity, and boldness in which they immediately have their tail between their legs. Leon would try to be light and taken jokingly on their statements (even when they're genuinely rude) which pisses you off, because hey Leon that wasn't a joke they are actually being assholes. So, I guess right then and there the platonic bond turned to a romantic one-developing feelings for you, because you not only express your love and creativity for your gothic aesthetic, but more as a human being who respects those who deserve it and calls out those who are undeserving of it

-You were also developing feelings for Leon too. In denial at first thinking it could be a dumb crush and you will get over with it. But, no it was real, because he sticks with you again like a damn pup you know the routine and defends you whenever someone disrespects or criticize you. He knows you. Everything about you and knows whatever bullshit they're saying is not true. You always had defend other people who you gave so much respect only to be betrayed, because you will be always the weirdo to them. Not as (Y/N)....

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[soupandsorcery]

WIP Wednesday

once again, I wasn't tagged, but this wip is delightful to write, so I'm sharing

"What are you doing?" River asks, staring.

"I dropped a fucking stitch somewhere," Aubrey replies, not looking away from their work.

"Are you knitting?"

"Obviously."

River opens their mouth and then closes it again, not even sure what to say to that. Finally they settle on, "Why?"

"January thought it might help."

"Help with what?"

Aubrey gestures to themselves as if that answers the question.

And alright, yes, maybe it does.

Aubrey's gaze flickers back down to January, their fingers stilling in his hair. "You think he needs me?"

Not more than you need him, River doesn't say. It's true, but it's cutting. Usually they don't hold themselves back from that sort of thing, but January wants to believe in a world where the Gale siblings can patch things up and work things out and be something like a family again.

It is also true that Aubrey is...better equipped for some things January needs than River is, just by virtue of having experience with them. They remember the sight of January slipping into their bedroom last week, hair mussed, cheeks pink, a goofy, pleased smile on their face. River's not so sheltered that they don't know what likely put that look there. Or who, rather.

There's that indignation again.

It's not as if River doesn't want to. It's not as if they're saving themselves or...or they think themselves too good for such things. They just don't know how to go about the overtures of it. And now that Aubrey has clearly demonstrated that they do know how, it puts even more pressure on River to get it right. Or at the very least be different in an enticing way.

Everything they've read on the subject suggests that confidence can go a long way, but this—like so many other things—is so easy to overthink.

"I think that he trusts you," is what they finally say. "And I also think that if you misuse that trust, I will spend the rest of your life making you regret it."

Aubrey's eyes flicker with surprise and then run through a spiral emotions before settling on something like cold resignation. "This isn't like with Max," they mutter.

"No," River agrees. "It isn't. It can't be. I won't let you—"

"Are you two arguing?" January's sleep rough voice cuts into the tension.

He sits up, going to rub one eye with the heel of his hand before remembering—just in time—that he's still wearing his cage and that will hurt. Instead, he blinks owlishly, first up at Aubrey and then over at River.

All the things in River that were going hard and brittle from the conversation with Aubrey seem to melt, and they can't help but smile at him.

"No," they reply. "Not arguing."

"Tense discussion," Aubrey adds, startling River with the honesty.

January thinks that over and then shrugs. "Can't be helped, I guess." He glances between the two of them again, and River can pinpoint the exact second that guilt starts to creep in. "Am I making it harder? With everything you two have to sort out, I probably shouldn't be—"

"No," both Gales say in unison.

"It would be hard regardless," says River.

"You're kind of like an...olive branch," says Aubrey. "A peace offering. We could fight over you, but that would piss you off and make you sad. So instead we're getting along over you. Or trying to. Or something."