#(he loved his little brother and still does. just doesn’t show it well since the fight)

[brokendreamscreation-moved]

Micah ( @promiseofabrotherskeeper ) and Lucid before their bond was damaged

[meiieiri]

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Hey Bonny!! I saw you wanted to play a game, so how does this sound for a drabble? Dragon! Yoongi (or Kookie since I know he's your guy) x Fairy! Reader?? Idk if you've written fairies before, but I know you've done dragons! 💜🤍

I have a dragon kook x fairy reader on my patreon as early access, so I'll make this one yoongi!

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

Yoongi

Hidden in the woods

Dragons are rather social creatures- but when a young Dragonblood named Yoongi fails to find a partner while all his friends and family have moved way past those events already, he isolates himself, believing he might just be destined to be a loner. But maybe, he was just impatient.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon hybrid!Yoongi, Fairy!Reader, strangers to ???, reader is described as short oops, SFW

Wordcount: 1.6k (it was supposed to be a Drabble... oops)

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“You rarely visit these days.”

His mothers words still echo in his mind as he tries to find a new composition on his piano that doesn’t sound like everything he’s already put out. Of course he hasn’t visited- with his brother’s twins constantly around, he’s always reminded of how far ahead everyone around him is, while he’s yet to find his first real love. He’s thirty, for god’s sake- and yet all he has is his house, a stable career as a musician, and a lot on his mind.

All his friends are married. Some have kids, others are busy preparing for the day they’ll have them. He feels out of place.

Yoongi has made peace with the fact that he’ll be the uncle to all of them, the one guy who never really seems to be happy about anything, never has a family of his own. It’s alright.

He sighs, loudly, gripping his hair for a second in frustration. This is stupid- why is he having an artist’s block right now of all times? People are waiting for something new, especially after he’s already taken a break to help his creativity. And yet, it did nothing- except for giving him a little bit more room to breathe and most of all move out of his apartment and into his new house near the woods. It’s nice here- about half an hour away from the bustling neon city he’s used to after years of living there, and also a bit more distance from his family and friends. A newfound excuse for when they ask him once more where he’s been.

The doorbell rings, attracting his attention. He’s not awaiting any guests or packages- who could it be?

Via the camera installed he can see that there’s a person he doesn’t know at the door- you're rather short, but visibly curious, looking around for any signs of life inside his home, and for a short moment, he sees them;

Delicate little slightly translucent wings. Pointy ears, tilted a bit downwards.

A fairy.

As he opens the door, you seem startled for a second or two, taking a step back, before you speak. “Oh, hello!” You greet him. “I was just about to ask- do you have uh.. Jungkook’s number?” You wonder, and he becomes hostile, crossing his arms. “A coworker of mine, Jimin, said you have it. I’m sorry I’m just, you know, showing up here like that-”

The door closes. But despite what he was expecting, you just ring the doorbell again- and again, until he opens.

“Okay, as I was trying to explain before you so rudely interrupted me-” You tease a little, arms now crossed as well as your wings flap around a bit. “-tell him at least that I need his help fixing my washing machine. He broke it and left the crime scene for me to find, and that’s, pardon my language-” You lean in a bit as if you’re about to tell Yoongi something secret, “-pretty crappy behavior.”

Yoongi stares you down for a moment, before he speaks.

“That’s it?” He asks, and you nod. “Why don’t you ask Jimin for Jungkook’s number?” He wonders, not entirely convinced. Jungkook is pretty much a magnet for people no matter what gender, and the worst part about it is that many if not most always try and get to him through Yoongi.

No one’s ever interested in him. Only his friends, or the things he can provide.

“Cause Jimin doesn’t have it either!” You whine, stomping your leg on the ground in agony. “Listen, I don’t know how to fix it and my bathroom smells like a laundromat already, my coffee machine is also broken and my script has been rejected for the third time, I really need some good news. Please?” You ask, and Yoongi contemplates.

“What if I fix it?” He asks, and your eyes begin to sparkle, wings lifting to flutter in excitement. It’s like in this very moment, he can hear the keys of his piano chime, creating a new piece in his mind.

“You can?!” You ask, stepping closer.

“Probably. Where do you even live?” He asks, before you point towards the woods.

“I live in the woods, pretty much. It’s not that far.” You say, and Yoongi sighs, looking back inside his house. It’s not like he’s going to get anything done either way, so who cares? It might take his mind off of things for a moment or two-

So a few hours later, he’s in your house, enjoying some hot coffee from your machine, which he’d fixed as well while he was at it. Well, fixed is a strong word- he pretty much just explained how it properly worked to you. It was working just fine- you just lost the manual and couldn’t figure it out on your own.

“I always thought dragons were scarier.” You say suddenly, opening a pack of cookies to put in the middle of your wooden coffee table. “You’re really nice. Tall, and a bit gloomy looking, but very nice.” You say, sitting down on the couch next to him, legs pulled up towards you.

He’s noticed something glittering all over the small house- like sparkling glitter, but much finer, and barely noticeable. Looking closer to his pants, he notices it there as well- and even after a brush with his hand, it sticks to his fingers now.

“Oh- I’m sorry! It keeps getting everywhere, especially now.. Wait- I have like, a plastic thing-” You hurry, getting up to search for something in a drawer close by your TV. “Ah, there!” You say, giving him the lint-roller. “It’s one designed for fairy dust. I’m sorry, I should’ve thought about that..” You say, but for some odd reason, he declines.

“It’s fine.” He denies. “Doesn’t bother me.” he tells you, and again, you look at him like he’s just told you the earth is flat after all.

but it truly doesn’t bother him. It would, technically, if he was anywhere else. But right now, in this moment, he couldn’t be any more indifferent towards the ‘mess’ you leave sticking to his clothes and skin.

As soon as he’s back home, the sight of your sparkling smile is still in his mind, as his feet almost automatically move towards his piano, where he sits down, and presses a record button to play something new. The melody has been stuck on repeat in his head the entire way back home through the thick snow, like his imagination was finally finding color again.

But it’s different from what he usually creates.

This piece is playful almost, intriguing. It’s a little hesitant, like someone holding back a thought itself just to not indulge too much in a fantasy they’re already creating in their mind. Fluttering notes interrupt these parts however, sneaking in with excitement and curiosity, trying their best to convince the player to let themselves go.

And Yoongi does, as he finishes the piece, and leans back in his chair, recording finished before his phone chimes with a message.

“You left your scarf at my place!” Is what you tell him.

“I’ll get it tomorrow.” He texts you back.

“I could make us dinner?” You question.

He contemplates, finger hovering over the virtual keyboard of his phone, before he begins to write his answer. Fluttering touches of his fingers moving with a hint of excitement, fine fairy dust on the skin of his hands shimmering in the setting sun dipping everything in a golden glow.

“I’d love that.”

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and Zatanna

I think Marvel and Zatanna would have a wonderful funny haha father/brother-sister/daughter duo. Magic and Magic. Why not?

Zatanna and Marvel: *both talking*

Zatanna: “I’m just missing this one ingredient for a spell! Hyancinth nectar.”

Marvel: “Hyancinth nectar?” *reaches into pocket dimension to see if he has any before coming up short* “I don’t seem to have any. Well, I’m sure you could find some at the upcoming farmers market in Fawcett.” *shrugs*

Zatanna: “Farmer’s market? Is it like a magical farmers market…?”

Marvel: “Yes actually! I could take you with me if you wanted.”

Zatanna: *thinks that being with the Champion of Magic might help her get better deals on stuff* “I’ll take you up on that!”

The Day of the Farmer’s Market…

Zatanna: “Oh! I’ve been looking for Wrackwort Bulbs!” *trades vendor for them*

Marvel: *holding two huge bags with smaller bags full of ingredients in them*

Zatanna: *puts a bag of Wrackwort Bulbs into one of the bigger bags*

Marvel: “I thought you just wanted Hyancinth Nectar?”

Zatanna: “I can’t add a few more things to my cart on the way?”

Marvel: “I’m not saying you can’t but…”

Zatanna: “But nothing.” *does a little levitation spell to float up and pat his head before spinning around still floating* “Emetic Wax! I need some of that too!”

Marvel: *pulls her back down by the back of her shirt before muttering a counterspell to make her stop levitating*

Zatanna: *jogs over to the vendor selling the wax*

Marvel: *follows after her just happy to see her happy*

or

Zatanna: *making Marvel try on a bunch of outfits* “Work it!”

Marvel: *is in fact, albeit awkwardly, working it*

Zatanna: *chuckling* “I don’t even see why you agreed to this.”

Marvel: *shrugs*

Zatanna: *magics another outfit onto him* “Well I gotta thank you. I didn’t get much of this as a kid.”

Marvel: “Why didn’t you get much of it? You didn’t care for it or something?”

Zatanna: “Uhm… Not exactly.” *unsure whether she should tell Marvel* “When I was younger, my dad uh… had an alcohol problem. By the time he sobered up, I was too old for this stuff.” *awkward*

Marvel: *also awkward* “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Zatanna: “It’s fine. It’s not like I hate my dad for it. He was just going through a tough time. I still love him. I honestly don’t know why you’re apologizing. It’s not like it’s your fault.”

Marvel: *stares for a bit* You know, I’m fine doing this with you even if you’re too old right? I uh… never really got to do stuff like this with my parents either. Maybe I did, but I don’t remember. When I was 8, they died.” *awkwardly pauses cause he doesn’t know whether it was a good idea to share that or not* “But, it’s just, since I didn’t get to do it, and you didn’t get to either, I want to. Cause everyone has to play dress up with someone else at least once in their life, right? So, yeah. I’m fine doing kiddie stuff like this.” *extremely awkward as he says this*

Zatanna: *processing all that information* “I uh… I see.” *magics Marvel into another outfit*

Marvel: “A tiger onesie?” *looks down at the outfit*

Zatanna: *while he’s looking away, rubs at her eyes to hide any tears* “Yeah, a tiger onesie. It fits you.”

Marvel: *now confused* “It does?”

Zatanna: “Yeah, you give off the vibes.”

or

A video of a beam almost falling on the audience of one of Zatanna’s shows goes viral.

Marvel: “Wait, so that wasn’t planned?”

Zatanna: “Nope.”

Marvel: “And you just saved them like that…?You’re amazing!”

Zatanna: *preens at the praise* “I know.”

Marvel: “No, Zatanna, I’m being super serious! You’re an awesome hero.” *blinding smile*

I don’t know why but I love it whenever a person a little more than half the size of another person bullies the bigger person. Also, as for the alcoholic thing, it wasn’t really mentioned on the wiki whether or not it affected her badly, but she not only had her dad as her only parent, but he was an alcoholic. It could’ve affected her.

[simbiotictears]

LnDs Boys if they were an Idol!boy group:

I won’t hear anyone out. I need this group to become a reality. Infold make a card of them as idols and I am yours!!

Pt2

Leader + Main Rapper: Zayne

Appears to be the most mature but isn’t. He was voted the pettiest by the members followed by Sylus and Rafayel. He was given the role of leader due to his ability to keep the fans and his members under control (minus Sylus).

Designated translator: he can speak the most languages in the group. As a result, he leads the international interviews and fan interactions.

His fans know he likes sweet things, so they often gift him sweet treats in fan meets. The staff end up confiscating most of it to stop him from eating them all and getting cavities.

His stage persona is the cold nerdy type, this is because he refuses to wear contacts, so this allows him to wear his glasses when he's not performing on stage.

He gets injured the most. Don't even try to tell me he doesn't.

In terms of his voice, he has a mellow voice. He doesn't really sing but he raps well.

When it comes to dancing, he can’t really dance, but he works hard. After the main and lead dancers, he trains the third hardest. If dance was a science, he'd have top marks. It's the moving the body part he struggles with.

He did aegyo once and it got clipped and shipped and he hasn't been able to live it down since.

He doesn’t post on social media often, but when he does, he posts book reviews (mostly nonfiction and medical books) on Substack.

His day in the life YouTube video for the group channel was him visiting Cafes and testing their sweet treats. All of those Cafes have been packed ever since he went.

He is the third most popular in the group, and his fans are the most mature and peaceful. However, they do go feral when he gets freaky for the concepts.

Main Dancer + Lead Vocalist/Rapper: Caleb

He is a jack of all trades. If he was the youngest, he’d be golden. But he’s not, so he’s just the most versatile.

He sings, he dances, he raps, he’s pretty—what can’t he do?

His rapping is far better than his singing, but his singing is nowhere near terrible. He had to work very hard on his vocals before debut, but only his bandmates know that.

He is a hit or miss with the fans, still extremely popular, but those who love him are very devout.

He’s had the second most scandals in the group, after Sylus, for fake rumours and clips taken out of context.

He’s a big nerd and is very chaotic despite his cool more chill front he shows sometimes (when he’s not in the mood). His stage persona is the popular boy next door/big brother type, and he fits the role perfectly.

He is the one to say the most random facts in the middle of a video. Definitely watches 'Cunk on Earth.' He is chronically online.

He has 'Train with me' videos which sound a little questionable due to his loud breathing.

He surprised his fans with the news of his piloting license by randomly uploading a video of him piloting a fighter jet.

He pranks Zayne often and likes to dance late at night in the studio with Xavier.

Him and Sylus have beef that no one else understands— but they do and that’s all that matters.

He has a girlfriend who he unapologetically talks about, whilst not mentioning anything at all. This has got him into a lot of trouble, but he doesn’t care. He doesn't want his fans to try and hit on him. He is a committed man. Other than that, he is very private.

Designated cook: he used to cook for the members when they all lived in the dorms together.

Visual + Sub Rapper: Sylus

Actually, the most mature. He is the oldest and hottest. People ignore the fact that he can’t sing (though he is getting better) because of how hot he is.

He usually leads when the concepts are suaver and sultrier.

I can't emphasise this enough, but he got in because he’s hot— can’t lie, that’s most of the reason he got in.

His stage persona, much like his real life personality, is the bad boy/daddy type. (I am not sorry, you know he's going to be in a suit giving it an ateez level performance)

He speaks the second most languages in the group, so he usually sits behind or at the end of the line in interviews and takes some of the stress off of Zayne. Once the interviewers know he speaks their language they do try to get him to answer a lot of questions just to hear him speak... and you know what? same.

The camera loves him.

People beg him to do aegyo and he only does it very rarely. Not even losing a bet could force him to do aegyo. It has to be if one of the boys has got his (secret) girl on the line.

Has the rich man laugh. Hear me out, he once accidentally laughed at the end of a recording session when the mic was still on, and they kept it in the track… let’s just say that track and that specific part of the track won them their first seven awards.

He has the most ravenous, horny fans. Even straight men go feral for Sylus.

He is the most likely to be put on stage shirtless or told to rip his shirt mid performance; he’s not opposed, he works hard for his abs.

His 'Day in the life' YouTube video on their group channel where he drank wine, played the organ, made steak, boxed, and watched a movie over the span of ten hours has over 109 million views.

Still, he goes live the least. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to use the live feature properly.

Naturally, he has had the most scandals in the group, not by his own fault mind you. And there have been public issues with their company's unfair distribution of his lines in most songs. (Sometimes they’re lucky if he gets four lines.)

He calls his fans “kittens” which makes all the other members hurl.

Face of The Group + Centre + Main Vocalist: Rafayel

The pretty boy of the group.

Designated Brat: he will argue with everyone about everything. He is the sassiest of the group and also the whiniest. He acts like the youngest but isn’t??

Has the voice of a literal angel and the face to match.

He spends the most time with Xavier because Xavier doesn’t argue with his insane logic (the boy is exhausted, save my boy Xavier).

He pretends to hate acting cute, but he secretly loves it.

People ship him with literally everyone in the group, but mostly Xavier and Zayne. It’s the icy x sunshine dynamic.

Designated model: He has the best fashion and always dresses like he’s about to hit the runway. His airport photos are basically photo cards in and off themselves. And a few times they've ended up on the cover of high fashion magazines. He would never be caught dead in anything less than the best.

He is the laziest in terms of training, but who needs to train when they’re that beautiful? (His words, not mine.)

Zayne has to threaten him to get him to go to dance practice.

He goes live with Xavier most often.

He is the one who controls the social media pages. He loves posting the most random stuff.

His ending fairies always go viral.

One time a fan asked him to marry them when he was live and he asked how big their paycheck was.

Should have more scandals than he does, most of his drama is people arguing about his sexuality— to which he tells everyone to mind their own business.

He’s terrified of cats. The group went on a YouTube Channel where they got to play with cats as they answered questions. Rafayel hissed at any cat that came near him and hid behind Sylus.

He once did a paint with me stream and everyone was shocked at his skills and art knowledge to which he said he went to art school.

Maknae + Lead Dancer + Sub Vocalist: Xavier

The youngest of the group.

His stage persona is the shy boy/prince type. Because of this, everyone thinks that this sweet man is innocent, but he’s a freak.

Can pull off literally any concept.

Has insane dance skills. (I don't want to hear it. In a world where they are idols that man can dance.)

Him and Caleb are the most likely to be in the dance studio late at night practicing.

Because he works so hard at night and off camera, the fans think he is lazy or “always tired.” He is anemic, but his sleepiness mostly comes from his excessive training.

He has a secret dance TikTok called Lumiere; where he dances with a hood on, a face mask, and in baggy clothes. Some fans have hypothesised that him and Lumiere are the same person, but he never confirms it.

He nearly got caught once when Rafayel was live, and he walked back into their hotel room with the same hoodie on as his latest TikTok video.

He mostly enjoys releasing dance videos on their group TikTok and YouTube channel with Caleb because their styles blend well together.

When they do more lifestyle like content, he is either with Rafayel or Caleb.

He has a very soft and pretty voice, which makes most people swoon though he actually prefers rapping, but the group would have too many rappers, so he sticks to singing.

He once sat in on Caleb’s live with Sylus and Zayne and rapped a whole cypher, which shocked all the fans because he sounded so good! He’s got insane flow.

It started the #letXavierRap trend.

Has a secret partner, and his biggest scandal was a hickey that wasn’t covered up properly.

People love the princely concept on him. He lowkey hates it. He only wears it on the stage.

He grew out his hair once and everyone begged him not to cut it again (he did, it got in the way of his face when he was dancing.)

They once had a concept where they all had to act. Much to everyone’s surprise, Xavier did so well that he started to get offered acting gigs. He mostly turns them down, but once in a while his fans might spot him as the lead in a C drama or two.

He can’t cook to save his life.

He relies on Caleb and Sylus to make everything; however, he does eat pot noodles when they refuse.

He once tried to cook for the members, and they had to move dorms because the place caught fire. Of course, that was before they all moved to their own places.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐇𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader x tommy miller

genre: smut, minors dni, no outbreak

word count: 2.7k

summary: joel knows you have a little thing for his younger brother so decides to indulge you for your birthday.

warnings: gonna state this very clearly: joel gets cucked by tommy and watches, everyone is consenting and it's discussed beforehand, piv, dirty talk, possessive!joel, daddy kink, size kink, established relationship between joel and reader, jealousy, some brotherly rivalry, facial, mild degradation kink, creampie

a/n: this work was commissioned through kofi by the lovely @losergurlsstuff, thank you so much for your support and thank you so much for this delicious idea, I had a blast! ❤️‍🔥

**gif made by the amazing @pedgito thank you so much dear!! dividers made my the talented @saradika-graphics 💜💜💜

Everything has been amazing since you and Joel started dating. To you, he was perfect. The perfect man. The perfect partner. The perfect person. You are forever grateful to whatever god made your roads cross. You have no idea what you’d be doing without him. You’ve never felt so cared for in your entire life. What he doesn’t say with words he shows with what he does and today is no exception. 

“What do you want for your birthday?” 

You smile and shake your head, his head is laying right above your stomach, his one hand under your shirt, caressing the warm skin. “I have everything I need.” 

“Just tell me.” 

“I really don’t want anything, Joel. Especially not from you.” 

His hand on your skin stills, looking up, you giggle at the way he’s frowning. Shocked. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means, you dork,” you lean and brush your lips against his forehead. “That you already give me everything. Being with you is enough.” 

Joel’s eyes narrow. A pleasurable shudder rolls through your spine, you adore it when he looks at you like that. It reminds you of all the times you pushed his buttons, resulting in a delightful time. 

“I have an idea what you might want.” 

“And what’s that mister know-it-all?” 

“Tommy.” 

“W—What?” Your heart sinks to your stomach, your palms suddenly cold and sweaty. His younger brother’s name was the last thing you expected to hear. Joel spreads his fingers across your waist, gently, he squeezes. 

“It’s a’right, sweetheart. I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot and well, I think it might be a good gift for your birthday.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

You genuinely don’t. Also, he’s been thinking about it? The inside of your stomach feels like lead. It’s true that once upon a time you thought how it would be with Tommy—but that was before Joel. And after you two started dating well. . . sure maybe your eyes did linger a bit, maybe you leaned a little too close when he whispered something in your ear during a party. . . You genuinely thought Joel wouldn’t notice. 

“I haven’t asked him yet,” he says, thoughtful. “But I was thinkin’ of indulgin’ your curiosities.” 

You‘re still not quite sure what he means by that. Your guilt gnaws at the walls of your stomach. Joel gives you everything, yet you make him feel like he doesn’t. Your eyes move away, falling to the corner of the wall. You can’t bear to look at him. He deserves better. 

“Hey,” he says, hand cupping your jaw and pulling you back. “Don’t cry.” 

“I’m not crying.” 

“You look like you’re about to,” he cracks a small smile. “I don’t mind, darlin’. It’s just a fantasy ain’t it? I know that you’re mine.” 

“I am,” you say tearfully. “I am and always will be.” 

“And I’m yours. I just want to spoil you as best as I can, sweetheart. And this seemed doable.” 

“Why do you even think Tommy would agree to this?” 

“Oh he will,” he says with a grin that makes your cheeks grow warm. “Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.” 

You nod but doubt still taints your expression. You don’t doubt Joel’s words, but no one can deny that this might be a bit odd. You’re not entirely sure Tommy will be on board. But you trust Joel, so you don’t question it. 

Despite all the doubt, and tension in your muscles, excitement slowly brews deep within you. 

“Joel, I’m not so sure about this.” 

His head turns harshly to face his brother. There’s no way he’s backing out now, not when they were only inches away from the fucking bedroom door. 

Then again, he does understand. He’s ain’t stupid. But Joel had seen the way Tommy looked at you, the way his eyes would do a subtle sweep and linger on your ass whenever you walked out of a room. “I ain’t gonna suddenly choke you out if that’s what got your feathers ruffled.” 

Tommy shifts from one foot to the other. Joel’s not used to seeing his brother so deep in though. He fears that if he thinks a little harder he might break his brain. With a huff of breath escaping his lips, Joel throws a hand over Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes, drawing his attention. 

“Look, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told her, if at any point you decide you don’t wanna do this, just say so and we’ll stop. No one is gonna get offended.” 

Tommy visibly relaxes at Joel’s words. He nods, lips a tight line. It reminds Joel when he taught him how to ride a bike when they were kids. He had the same expression.

“A’right then, now that that’s settled, let’s not keep her waitin’ anymore.” 

Without warning he opens the door and pushes Tommy in. If it was any other situation Joel would’ve laughed at the way Tommy tripped over his own feet. But his attention is immediately dragged to the bed you’re perched on. His mouth waters. He knew you were going to get dressed, well undressed in this situation, but he hadn’t thought about what you would put on. Joel’s eyes briefly flicker to Tommy, he seems just as in shock. It’s hard not to be with what you’re wearing. 

The fabric is a luxurious, deep blue, reminiscent of the darkest hours when the stars come out to play. The material is silky and smooth against the skin, offering a touch of elegance and comfort. And he would know. It’s his favorite damn set. Shimmering sparkles that adorn the fabric, mimic the stars scattered across the night sky. These sparkles catch the light of the scented candle you’ve lit, creating a subtle and enchanting glow.

Joel gradually meets your gaze. As soon as he does he knows you’ve done it on purpose. His lips quirk up, amusement growing in his eyes, you’d pay for this little stunt. 

“Wow,” Tommy exhales and takes a step forward. “You look amazin’ sweetheart.” 

You seem a little out of breath already, it’s going to be fun to watch you crumble. Though Joel isn’t quite sure how he feels about his brother being the one doing it. 

“Thanks,” you answer, unsure. 

There’s a lingering tension in the air and Joel almost rolls his eyes at them both. Almost. 

“A’right then,” he pushes Tommy until he’s at the edge of the bed and takes a seat on the chair he brought in this morning. “Stop bein’ shy now. Tommy, you’re her gift, are you sure you want to be the person responsible for her havin’ a shit birthday?” 

Tommy’s chest raises, “N-No.” 

“Then what are you waitin’ for?” 

“Jesus Joel, it’s not like I'm bringin’ her a new plant, give us a second.” 

Joel grins at the way he snaps and Tommy only shakes his head, turning to you and finally focusing on the right thing. You. 

Tommy tenderly presses both palms on each side of your face, thumbs moving in circles. Your nipples are already hard, he can see them like little diamonds showing up through the fabric. His fingers twitch. Patience isn’t something that he has, but he’ll try. For you. 

Your lips part with a soft gasp as Tommy finally brings you in, their lips brushing before full-on pressing against one another. Joel doesn’t miss the way your chest heaves. Your hands fist his shirt and Tommy tilts his head in response, Joel hears your little moans, his own cock gradually hardening under his jeans. 

Fuck, you look too good in that lingerie set. It’s hard just to sit and watch. 

“Take off his shirt,” Joel grunts, sounding more cross than he intended. You nod, but not without giving him a wary look first. When Tommy’s shirt hits the floor, the younger Miller roughly grabs your chin and turns your head so you’re facing Joel. His spine straightens. 

“You ain’t the one given’ orders,” Tommy says. “If you want me to make her feel good, you’re goin’ to shut up and watch, understood?” 

Joel’s mouth goes dry but he nods anyway. His eyes narrow as Tommy’s smile grows, his hand slips between your legs and begins to stroke you through your panties. Joel’s breath hitches, his gaze landing where you grow wetter and wetter. 

“Who’s in charge baby, tell him.” 

Your hips grind down to his hand, “You are.” 

“Well that wasn’t much of a challenge,” he chuckles, eyes finding Joel’s again. “Don’t you think you’re bad girl sayin’ that in front of your daddy?” 

Heat rushes to Joel’s cheeks, crimson spreading from his chest to his face. He wasn’t expecting Tommy to know that. A tingle he hasn’t felt before spreads from the base of his spine. His jealousy is starting to brew, but at the same time, it feels oddly nice to be helpless, even though he knows he isn’t. 

“Answer my question,” Tommy commands, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Are you a bad girl?” 

“Y–Yes.” 

Your eyes roll when Tommy presses your clit, drawing rough circles, he smiles. “Tell your boyfriend who’s your daddy now?” 

Joel holds his breath. Beads of sweat coating his back. “You are,” he hears you say to Tommy. There’s a slight quiver to your bottom lip and every part of him wants to soothe you. 

But instead, his brother does. 

Tommy sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and kisses your deeply, his hands caressing the contour of your body. 

“Don’t worry,” Tommy says. “Daddy is goin’ to take care of you.” 

You’re about to lose your mind. Your body is a flame and with each devastating snap of Tommy’s hips, your mouth drops open with a guttural moan. You’ve always assumed he’d be a gentle lover. Though you have a sneaking suspicion that Joel’s presence might be a solid reason why he’s tearing you and building you up over and over again. 

He positioned you so you’re staring at nothing else but Joel, you see how hard he is under his pants, the outline of his cock visible and making you gush all over Tommy’s cock. You want him in your mouth so bad but you know this isn’t that kind of game. Joel’s eyes follow the sway of your breasts, your bra ripped from you a while ago. You were completely naked except for your panties—Joel’s favorite and now Tommy is fucking you in it. 

Tommy reaches forward and grabs your throat, pulling you up so more of your chest is exposed. His cock is bigger than you imagined, nearly big as Joel. He pounds into you mercilessly, his length stretching you every day, reminding you whose cock is tearing you apart. 

“Does it turn you on that he’s watchin’ how wet you’re gettin’ my dick sweetheart?” With his question another fresh wave of slick drips out of you, tears build in your eyes, your insides left throbbing. His hips stutter, going balls deep, breath catching in his throat. “Fuck. Joel, she’s soaked— does she ever get this wet for you?” 

“‘Course she does,” he grunts, crossing his arms. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, but the fact that Tommy doesn't have a broken nose already must be a good sign. 

Tommy leans into your ear, loud enough for Joel to hear. “Bet the old man can’t fuck you as well as I do.” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. Both of them are so good at this, and your head is in shambles. 

Tommy suddenly stops, and you’re a brink away from breaking down. A whine tears away from your lips. He releases your neck, you fall forward, only upright thanks to his hands holding your arms. “Answer me.” 

“You’re making me feel so good,” you say instead and thankfully, he doesn’t try to gauge a different response. His cock pulses, making you believe that was all he wanted to hear. Joel observes the two of you carefully. 

“Say it again baby, tell him how well daddy’s taking care of you.” 

“Daddy’s taking care of me,” you slur as his pace begins to pick up again. Each thrust makes you squeeze his cock like a vice. Liquid heat drops down your spine, your stomach clenching as he edges you closer and closer to your downfall. “J–Joel,” you call out without much thought and his dark gaze meets your own. “He feels so good.” 

“Oh fuck—” Tommy chokes and swiftly pulls out, prompting you to let out a disappointed whine. “Shit, baby, I’m gonna— fuck— bring your face here—” 

The back of Tommy’s head falls against the headboard and you quickly hurry towards him, your glistening cunt now in perfect view. You hear Joel taking in a sharp exhale. You part your lips, dipping down to take Tommy into your mouth but he stops it, holding you by the nape. “I’m gonna ruin that pretty face of yours,” he groans, forcing you down so your cheek would be pressed right below his pelvis. He starts stroking himself, fucking into his fist, and the sight is so beautiful that you lick one of his balls into your mouth, his back arches. 

Suddenly, he grips you even tighter and starts moaning loudly in harsh gasps, his hips thrusting uncontrollably against your face. He closes his eyes, losing himself in the sensation of you. You can feel him pulsing against your skin. You moan in response, feeling the rush of excitement as you open your mouth wider to take it all in.

“Tommy, please,” you breathe out, your eyes locked with his as he releases a stream on your face, covering your cheeks and lips with his release. You can feel yourself growing even more aroused as he continues to stroke himself, coating your face with his warm come. You whimper, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine as he lets out a final raspy breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes out, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stares at you, your face damp and covered in his release. “You look so beautiful like this.”

You can feel your cheeks heating up, the intimate moment causing your heart to race in your chest. Tommy reaches out, gently wiping some of the come off of your face with his thumb before bringing it to your lips, letting you taste yourself.

“Fuck,” Tommy murmurs, his breaths coming out in short pants. He pulls you up to him, his lips crashing onto yours in a fierce kiss. However, while you’re lost in his mouth, you don’t realize the bed dipping with an added weight. You hear a clink of a belt and suddenly Joel is buried deep between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles around your clit. You gasp against Tommy’s mouth, the sensations becoming almost too much to handle.

“You didn’t make her come, idiot,” he groans, fucking himself into your deeper and deeper. Your eyes roll, your lips parting an inch away from Tommy’s face. Joel sinks his teeth into your neck, hips rutting into you without leaving you. His other hand playing with the elastic of your panties, you break down around him, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. “Mine,” he growls, acting as if the two of you are alone. “Mine, mine, mine—” 

Joel spills into you with a deep and visceral groan. There’s so much, his cock twitching and pulsing as he forces himself even deeper, claiming you as his. Doing something Tommy isn’t allowed to do. You shiver all over, your body weak with pleasure. 

He trickles down the inside of your thighs as he pulls out, falling back to his knees. You collapse onto Tommy’s chest and you’re surprised when you feel his hand on your neck, rubbing soothingly over your warm skin. 

Joel leaves a trail of kisses down your spine, “You were amazin’, honey.” 

“Such a good girl,” Tommy murmurs, though both of their voices feel as if it’s coming from a distance. Your eyes flutter closed, exhaustion taking hold of you. “Let’s get her cleaned up and tuck her in.” 

Joel presses his mouth against you one last time before heading to the bathroom. 

[masorciereviolette]

hi, i was thinking if you could do a agatha x reader who has a daughter of one or two years old—the baby father left soon after the reader revealed that she was pregnant, which leaves her with problems trusting people and self-esteem, but with agatha it feels different, she treated her very absolutely well and with all love: like she was a goddess. when he discovers that the reader is dating someone influential (example, harkness family is all composed of recognized lawyers), he decides to show up to make her life hell. + nicki as an older and protective brother.

thanks and sorry for asking another fic again.

Everything You Deserve

Pairing: Au Agatha Harkness x Reader

Warnings: Past Abusive Relationship, Angst, Comfort, Reassurance, Protective Agatha, Happy Ending.

Word count: 8.2k

A/N: This was the final pick of the few I selected to focus on completing for the past week between my life schedule and such, the request is absolutely divine istg✋🏽😭 there will be more requests coming soon. I selected a few more that I’ll try to have completed and ready to post by the next weekend. Feel free to submit more, I truly enjoyed writing this :)))

Link To Masterlist

You don’t remember the last time someone looked at you the way Agatha Harkness does. Not like you’re broken. Not like you’re something to pity or fix. But like you are whole. Radiant. Worthy of being worshiped—not in spite of the mess, but because of it.

Because even when you’re running on four hours of sleep, and your hair is knotted into a bun that’s been re-done three times, and your shirt bears evidence of both breakfast and finger paint… she still looks at you like you’re something she dreamed up.

It had been just over a year since Lily was born when you met her. You were exhausted. Burnt out in the kind of way that doesn’t scream or collapse—it just lingers. Quiet and constant. You’d been surviving off caffeine and adrenaline, the occasional bite of something half-eaten handed to you with tiny, sticky fingers. You had a life now where granola bars and forgotten errands were victories. Where brushing your teeth before noon felt like winning.

You were trying to be everything for your daughter. And you were. You were the one she reached for when she was scared. The one she clung to when she was tired. The one who knew the exact ratio of water to apple juice that she’d tolerate without complaint. You were her home.

And that was both a beautiful and crushing truth. You hadn’t let many people in since she was born. Definitely not after what happened with her father. That particular wound hadn’t healed—it had just closed over enough that you could walk without limping. You’d stopped trying to explain the way it haunted you. The guilt. The shame. The whispering voice that asked if maybe it really was you. Maybe you really were too much.

The daycare pickup line was longer than usual that day. A string of parents checking their phones, wrangling younger siblings, handing off juice boxes and tired apologies. You stood off to the side, pretending to scroll, while your stomach twisted itself into knots. It was Lily’s first week in the toddler group. You told yourself it was fine. That they were professionals. That she was safe. But your body didn’t believe any of it.

You’d just stepped into the waiting room when you saw her. Agatha. Black cashmere coat. A deep burgundy silk scarf knotted at her throat. Her hair was pulled up in a way that looked impossibly elegant, as though she hadn’t rushed to get there. As though her day hadn’t been chaotic. She stood with a sort of casual grace that made you feel like you were in the presence of someone who had never once doubted herself.

And beside her—pressed just a little closer than most boys his age—stood a boy with thoughtful eyes and a posture that said he’d rather be anywhere else. Nicholas. Nine, maybe ten. His hand brushed hers every few seconds, like he needed to confirm she was still there. That she was real. His gaze swept the room once, twice, the way someone scans a crowd for threats, not toys. Protective. Soft. Watchful. You didn’t mean to stare. You were just tired. Too tired to pretend you didn’t notice the quiet poise of the woman across the room.

You were halfway through an article you couldn’t remember the title of when you felt it. Eyes on you. When you looked up, Agatha was watching you. Not judging. Not dissecting, Just… seeing you. You tried to look away. You smiled awkwardly but before you could dwell on it, a blur of curls and pink sneakers barreled into your legs with a familiar squeal. “Momma!”

Lily. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She held up a crinkled piece of paper with a triumphant grin. “I painted! It’s a cat-dog.” You laughed and took the paper, dropping to your knees and kissing her sticky cheek. And somewhere in the middle of that chaos, you felt it again—that presence. That gaze.

You looked up, and Agatha was still watching. Only this time, she was smiling. Not just at Lily. Not just at the painting or the moment. She was smiling at you. Like you were the most fascinating thing she’d seen all day.

The next day, she said hello. Simple. Confident. Warm. You tried not to overthink it. Maybe she was just friendly. Maybe she was just one of those people who remembered faces and smiled at strangers because she could. But when you returned the greeting, she lingered. Not long. Just enough to ask, “How’s the cat-dog doing?”

You blinked. Then laughed. “Still part feline, part mystery.” Agatha smiled like that was the right answer. The day after that, she brought you coffee. Black. Splash of oat milk. No sugar.

Exactly how you’d ordered it once, weeks ago, at the little shop down the block. You hadn’t even seen her there. You stared at the cup in her hand, bewildered. “How did you—?”

She gave you a little shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I pay attention.”

You told her she didn’t have to do that. That it was kind but unnecessary. She just smiled. “I wanted to.” And somehow… that was how it started.

You never saw it coming. Not like this. Not in soft touches and late-night laughter. Not in the quiet way she helped without making you feel helpless. Not in how she looked at you like you were magic without needing to say a word. Friendship came easily. Naturally. She made it easy.

Agatha was kind to Lily from the start—never with the artificial enthusiasm adults so often default to with toddlers, but with real interest. Like Lily’s stories mattered. Like every babbled explanation of a purple duck or a singing spoon deserved to be heard. She crouched when she spoke to her. She listened. She remembered. She called Lily’s curls “a wild crown” and would gently tuck one behind her ear before declaring her “Queen of the Kingdom.”

And she never once made you feel small. Not when you tripped over your words or blanked on adult conversation. Not when you forgot how to flirt or felt the urge to apologize for showing up to lunch with a mysterious stain on your jeans. Not when the dark parts of your past threatened to drown you, and you flinched at the idea of letting anyone truly see.

She never asked for more than you were ready to give. Agatha never pried. Never pushed. She just… stayed. She stayed the first night you invited her over for dinner—when Lily insisted on helping and your nerves nearly had you burning the pasta. She offered to stir, told you stories to distract you, and pretended not to notice when your hands shook as you passed her a plate. She stayed when Lily refused to fall asleep unless Agatha read The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Her voice was soft, smoky, steady. The first time, Lily giggled. The second, she rested her head against Agatha’s arm. The third, she was asleep before the caterpillar turned into a butterfly.

And when the house was quiet and the lights were low, you cried. You hadn’t meant to. You’d only meant to sit beside her on the couch, thank her for the help, maybe offer her the last of the wine. But the weight of the day—the week, the years—slipped out in a single breath, and you crumbled because you were tired. Tired of being strong. Tired of pretending it didn’t hurt when people left. Tired of trying to believe someone might choose you and not just the idea of you.

She didn’t ask why. She didn’t demand an explanation. She just held you. Her arms wrapped around your shaking form, her hands stroking up and down your back, her breath warm against your hair. And she stayed. God, she still stayed.

Not like someone who pitied you—but like someone who saw you. All of you. And didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t until a few months later, when the air turned cold and the windows fogged from the warmth of the fireplace, that you let yourself open the door fully.

You were curled up on the couch, your head in her lap, Lily fast asleep down the hall. Her fingers traced soft patterns through your hair, and you weren’t sure how to breathe without her touch grounding you. “Can I ask you something?” you murmured.

Her fingers stilled for a moment. “Anything.”

You hesitated. Then “Do you ever look at your life and wonder if you’ve already used up all the good parts?”

Agatha’s brow furrowed. “No,” she said gently. “But I’ve had moments where I thought I didn’t deserve them.”

You swallowed “I used to believe love was something I had to earn,” you whispered. “Be prettier. Be quieter. Be… less needy. And then when I got pregnant, he looked at me like I ruined everything. Like I was disposable.” Agatha was silent. Listening.

“He said he needed time. Said he’d come back. But I knew.” You blinked quickly. “I knew the second the door closed.” There was a pause. Heavy. Honest. “I haven’t told anyone that,” you said quietly.

Agatha’s hand moved again, her fingertips brushing your cheek like she could soothe away the ache. “Thank you for telling me.”

You closed your eyes “I don’t know how to let someone love me again,” you confessed. “Not without waiting for them to leave.”

Agatha didn’t speak right away. Then, with a voice softer than you’d ever heard “Do you know,” she whispered, “that you’re extraordinary?”

You gave a broken little laugh. “I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.” Her touch stilled. You opened your eyes just in time to see her lean in, her lips ghosting the edge of your temple.

“Well,” she murmured, breath brushing your skin like a vow, “they should have.”

You don’t know when exactly it became more. But one night, after Lily had fallen asleep and the dishes were done and the two of you lingered in the kitchen, she looked at you like she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her voice was barely a breath “Can I kiss you?”

Your heart stopped. You searched her face, looking for pressure, for pity—but there was none. Only reverence. Only the kind of affection that builds slowly, honestly, deeply. You nodded. And when she kissed you… it wasn’t like the movies. It wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was everything. Her hands came to your cheeks first, holding you like something precious. And when her lips met yours, it was slow. Careful. A question and an answer, all in one.

She kissed you like she had all the time in the world to prove she’d never leave. And for the first time in a very long time…You believed it. Which is why it hits you like a punch to the gut when he shows up again. Lily’s father.

Just standing there. Outside her daycare like he has every right to be. Like he didn’t vanish the second life got complicated. Like he hadn’t looked you dead in the eye and said, “I’m not ready for this.” He’s got a new haircut. A designer coat that’s too polished for this part of town. And a smug expression on his face that makes your stomach twist. He looks… well-rested. Confident. Like a man who’s managed to convince himself that you’re the problem. That he was the one who got away. Your heart drops the moment your eyes lock.

You clutch Lily closer to your hip, her backpack slung over your shoulder and her tiny hand holding a finger-painting masterpiece she’s excited to show Agatha. Your first instinct is to step back, shield her from his sight—but it’s too late “Hey,” he says casually, like this is normal. Like he belongs here. “You’ve been hard to find.”

You don’t respond. Your voice is caught somewhere between rage and disbelief. Your pulse is hammering in your throat. He looks down at Lily, then back up at you. “She looks like you,” he mutters, like it’s an accusation.

You grip the straps of your bag tighter, your fingers shaking. “What do you want?”

He shrugs. “Just wanted to see her. See you. Thought I’d stop by.” Stop by? Like this is just some casual check-in? Like he didn’t ghost you halfway through your pregnancy after calling you a liar, a manipulator, a mistake?

You don’t say that. You don’t even let it show on your face. Because Lily is watching. Her bright eyes flicking between you both, confused, picking up on your tension even if she doesn’t understand the words. So you nod, tight-lipped. You say you need to go. That she’s tired. That this isn’t the time.

He doesn’t argue. Just flashes that same smug smile, like he’s already planted some kind of seed. You pray that’s the end of it. It’s not. He shows up again that afternoon. You hear the knock on your apartment door and expect the usual—Instead, when you open it, he’s there. Leaning against the doorframe like he’s been there all day. Like your home is just another place he gets to walk into. “How the hell did you find this place?” you ask, keeping your voice low, even as your stomach churns.

He smirks. “Wasn’t hard. Your new girlfriend’s family has their name all over the place. Big names. Big reputations.” He tilts his head. “You really think people like that want someone like you around?”

Your throat tightens “You think this is going to last?” he scoffs. “They find out who you really are—what kind of mess you came from, how fast you got pregnant—they’ll be gone. Just like that.”

You don’t answer. Not because you agree. Not because he’s right. But because your voice has caught behind the wall you’ve spent years rebuilding. But before you can even think of a response—You hear footsteps.

Two sets.

You glanced over his shoulder just as Nicky and Agatha round the corner, both holding grocery bags to come by for a visit, maybe drop off dinner as well, Agatha had a tendency to spoil you. Nicholas’s steps halt as he takes in the sight of you—your tense shoulders, the way you’re half-blocking the doorway—and him standing in front of you.

“What’s going on?” Nicholas asks, voice cool, older than his age.

Your ex raises a brow. “Let me guess. This is hers too?”

Nicholas steps forward immediately, placing himself beside you, firm and tall. His eyes narrow as he looks your ex up and down “She doesn’t want you here, neither do I. ” he says flatly.

Your breath catches. He’s his mother’s son, through and through. The silence that follows is thick. You feel the shift. The way your ex falters, ever so slightly. Like he didn’t expect the ten-year-old to speak, let alone stand his ground like that. Your heart lurches in your chest. Not from fear.

From the quiet, overwhelming realization that you are no longer standing alone. Nicholas doesn’t move. He’s a wall beside you. Not with fists raised—but with something stronger. Loyalty. Love. It’s then when Agatha steps in past him, her presence impossible to ignore. She looks between the two of you—assesses the tension, the posture, the guilt your ex doesn’t even try to hide—and her eyes go cold.

Her voice slices through the tension like a blade made of velvet and ice. “I believe you were just leaving.” Your ex turns. Agatha now stands in the doorway right beside you, hands at her sides, bags sill gripped tightly, and eyes so cold they could stop time. She looks at you. Then at Nicholas. Then at the man who dares stand on her doorstep like he’s welcome.

She doesn’t yell. She doesn’t need to. Her voice is low. Measured. Each word chosen like a weapon. “You will not come near her again. You will not come near them. Not here. Not at school. Not anywhere.”

He tries to laugh it off. “This your guard dog?”

“No.” She tilts her head slightly. “I’m the one who burns the house down after the guard dog gives the warning.”

His face twitches. “She’s the mother of my kid. I have rights.”

“You have nothing,” Agatha hisses, stepping forward now. “You threw those rights away the second you walked out on her. And if you think for one second that I will let you waltz back into her life like you didn’t leave her to raise Lily alone—you are out of your depth.” He opens his mouth again. And Agatha cuts him off with a single look “You’re done here.”

There’s a pause. A long one. He looks between the three of you—Agatha, Nicholas, you—and something in him flickers. He realizes he’s lost. And this time, when he walks away, muttering something unpleasant under his breath. Your knees feel weak. You pulled them both inside. The door closes. The lock clicks. And all the adrenaline you’d been holding crashes down in your chest like a wave. Agatha is beside you in an instant, bags discarded onto the kitchen table. Her hand cups your cheek, her thumb brushing beneath your eye even though you aren’t crying. Not yet.

“You okay?” she whispers. You nod. Then shake your head. Nicholas gently takes your hand and squeezes it. Then silently retreats to the kitchen to grab Lily’s art supplies, like he knows you need a second.

“I didn’t expect him to show up like that,” you murmur. “I didn’t—I couldn’t say anything. I froze.” Agatha leans in, her forehead pressed against yours.

“You didn’t have to say a word,” she says. “We’ve got you. You hear me? We’ve got you.”

You nod again. This time, slower. And when she kisses you, it isn’t to fix you or to chase the fear away. She kisses you because she loves you. Because that’s what love looks like when you’ve been through hell and come out with people who choose you anyway. And for the first time since you were left standing in that ultrasound room alone…You finally feel safe again.

It was almost two weeks later & you’d been spending every free minute poring over paperwork, trying to gather the right forms, the right evidence to secure full legal custody of Lily. You were her mother in every way that mattered—but that wasn’t always enough. Not on paper. Not when the man who left suddenly decided he had opinions again.

You’d already raised her on your own. You’d stayed up with her through fevers, scraped knees, tantrums, first words, first steps. But now, suddenly, it wasn’t enough. Now the system wanted proof—receipts, signatures, documentation of the life you’d been living every single day for two years. And it was proving harder than you expected. You were exhausted. Tired in a way that didn’t have anything to do with sleep.

Agatha had meetings today. Early ones. You didn’t mind. She’d texted you last night, soft and grateful, asking if it would be okay for Nicholas to spend the day with you and Lily while she was swamped. Of course it was okay. Nicky had practically become a permanent fixture in your life anyway—and you missed him when he wasn’t around.

She’d dropped him off that morning, pressed a kiss to your cheek and whispered, “I owe you lunch and a nap,” before heading back toward her car. You spent most of the day inside—Lily curled up in her blanket fort, Nicky sprawled out on the living room rug with his sketchpad, drawing something quiet and focused. The apartment was full in the best way. You’d even managed to breathe.

Which is why the knock startled you. You weren’t expecting anyone. Not a package. Not Agatha—she always texted before coming back. Even so you weren’t expecting her till lunch. You opened the door without thinking. And there he was.

Again. He didn’t wait for permission this time. The second your hand loosened on the doorknob and your eyes widened in surprise, he pushed through—like it was still his right. Like he still belonged here. He walked into your apartment as if two years hadn’t passed. Your entire body went still. You should’ve slammed the door. Should’ve shoved him back, raised your voice, demanded he leave.

But you froze. Because he always knew where to hit “Figures,” he muttered, scanning the room like a man walking through a house he never helped build. “You leach on some big-shot name, and now suddenly you’re worth something?”

He wandered a little further in, hands stuffed in his pockets, his tone growing sharper. “What—are you pretending this little setup is real? Like some Harkness is gonna fix your screw-ups?” You stood frozen in place, every instinct screaming—but your legs wouldn’t move. Your mouth wouldn’t open.

Lily was asleep in her room now. Door cracked just enough to hear the soft whirl of her music box. Her favorite bunny clutched in her arms, lost in some half-nap, half-magic-dream state. You had to keep her out of this. You had to keep things quiet. He turned again, sneering at the gentle chaos of crayon drawings, open storybooks, and the blanket fort still sagging in the corner.

“This is pathetic,” he spat. “You got knocked up, was stupid enough to keep it and now what—you’re pretending this is some happy ending? The kid’s not even hers.”

That’s when Nicholas moved. You didn’t even realize he’d gotten up from the rug. One moment, he was behind you—quiet and drawing—and the next, he was standing between you and your ex like a human shield. He didn’t yell. He didn’t flinch.

He just looked up at the man in front of him with a calm, steady gaze that would’ve made Agatha proud “She’s more of a mom than you’ll ever be a dad,” Nicholas said, his voice tight, his cheeks flushed but unwavering. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“Nicky don’t—” you reached out, your fingers catching on his sleeve—but he didn’t move.

Your ex laughed bitterly, stepping forward as if he still had control. “Kid, you’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” he said. “One day this little fairy tale’s gonna fall apart and you’ll see. She’s not some saint. She’s just a bitch. One who isn’t worth the dirt I walk on—and now she’s trying to drag someone else down too?”

Your breath hitched. You stepped forward instinctively, your arm coming around Nicky’s shoulders, drawing him close. He leaned into you without hesitation. You didn’t think your ex would hurt either of you. But you also once believed he would never leave. And people change.

Your fingers tighten around the fabric of Nicholas’s hoodie, attempting to draw him behind you. He doesn’t budge. His shoulders stay squared, rooted like a wall in front of you. He’s braver than you ever were at that age. Maybe braver than you are now.

Your ex, still standing in the middle of the living room like he owns the place, scoffs and shakes his head. “You’re pathetic,” he says again, louder this time. “Still clinging to anything that gives you a shred of worth, huh? You think this family’s real? You think someone like her actually sees anything in lasting with you?” You flinch, and you hate that you do.

You want to scream at him, shove him out the door, call someone—anyone. But your throat is tight, your body locked down in that old, familiar paralysis that comes when someone knows exactly where your bruises are—even the ones they didn’t leave with their hands. Nicholas starts to speak again, but the sound of the door opening silences everything. It’s quiet. No knock. No footsteps in the hallway leading up to it.

Just the soft click of a key turning. Then the door opens. And Agatha’s voice slices through the room like frostbite wrapped in velvet. “I would suggest,” she says calmly, stepping inside, “you take one step back and think very carefully about the next words that come out of your mouth.”

Your ex turns. And all the false bravado, the smug superiority—that arrogant stance he always wore around you like armor—begins to falter. Because Agatha Harkness is standing in the doorway with a paper bag of takeout in one hand and her coat still on. Her other hand slowly slides her glove off finger by finger, like she’s peeling away the last of her patience.

Her eyes land on you first. You’re standing there behind the couch, one arm still around Nicholas, your other hand clenched so tightly around the back cushion that your knuckles have gone white. Then she sees Nicky—his position, his posture, his defiance. Her jaw locks. Something shifts in her. Quietly. Completely. She closes the door behind her without a word. The click echoes louder than it should.

Her bag of food hits the side table. She doesn’t even glance at it. And then she steps forward, methodically removing her other glove. There’s no shouting. No chaos. Just precision.

Like a blade unsheathing itself. She moves until she’s standing beside you. One hand reaches for your arm. Her touch is soft, grounding. Her thumb brushes slow, deliberate circles into your sleeve like she’s reminding you to breathe. Like she’s reminding you that you’re not alone.

Then she turns. Her gaze finds him and it burns. “You walk into her home,” she says, voice sharp as shattered glass, “you insult the woman I love, you insult my son—”

“He’s not—”

“No.” Her tone snaps like a whip. “Don’t. You don’t get to fucking speak.” He freezes mid-sentence. The room stills around her. You’ve never seen her like this. Not fully. Agatha Harkness is a lot of things—charming, clever, occasionally sarcastic—but right now?

She’s dangerous. And not because of her name. Not because of her influence. Because of her love “I don’t care what your name is, I don’t care what second rate social-lite family you derive from….” she continues, voice laced with contempt, I don’t care what insecure, sad little complex made you crawl back here the moment you realized she was with someone better.”

She takes a slow step forward, her heels clicking once on the hardwood. “You are nothing to her. Nothing to Lily. And if you ever come near them again—ever—I will use every connection my family has, every legal and political ally I’ve ever made, to ensure the only thing you’re allowed to visit is your own regret.”

Your ex stares at her, slack-jawed Maybe he thought she’d be like you once were—quiet, nervous, easily shaken. But she’s not, She’s a storm wrapped in silk. “I am done playing polite,” she says coldly. “You will not disrespect the people I love. Not in this house. Not anywhere.”

He tries to sputter something. “She’s not your—she’s not yours.”

Agatha steps even closer “And yet,” she says softly, like a promise etched in stone, “she chose me.” Her voice lowers—more dangerous now than when she was yelling.

“Every day. Every time. She chose me. And I would burn this world to the ground before I let someone like you make her feel small about that decision again.” There’s a silence. Long. Suffocating. The kind that makes your skin prickle and your lungs forget how to move. You’re still frozen.

Still gripping the couch like it’s your only anchor. Nicholas doesn’t move. He stays rooted at your side, his chin high, his fists clenched—not in fear, but readiness. Loyalty. Love. And then Agatha takes one last step forward. Her voice doesn’t rise. It descends—lower, calmer, lethal “You should leave,” she says. Not a plea. Not a suggestion. A sentence. “Right now. While I’m still letting you walk out on your own.”

Your ex hesitates for a fraction of a second. Just long enough for the weight of her words to crush the last of his ego. He mutters something under his breath—cowardly, bitter—and storms out without another word, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoes. Then fades. And the silence that follows is heavy. But for the first time in what feels like forever…You can breathe in it.

Because he’s gone. Because Nicholas never moved from your side. And because Agatha—fierce, unflinching, yours—is still standing there, breathing just a little harder now. Like maybe the thought of him hurting you did something to her, too. You sink slowly onto the couch, the tension in your legs finally giving out. They tremble beneath you, not from fear anymore—but from release. From everything you’d held in, clutched close to your chest just to survive the moment.

Agatha is there in an instant. She kneels in front of you like you’re something sacred. Like the only thing in the world that matters is bringing you back to yourself. Her coat is still on, her gloves discarded, her hair slightly windswept from the cold. But her hands are warm. So warm.

They cradle your face with infinite care, like you might break if she pressed too hard—but you know you won’t. Not with her. Her thumbs brush the tears you hadn’t realized were spilling down your cheeks. Gentle. Patient. Unshaken.

“Darling,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion she barely keeps in check. Her eyes search yours, as if trying to reach the part of you that had gone somewhere far away. “He doesn’t get to hurt you anymore.”

You try to nod. Your head barely moved “I—I didn’t know what to say,” you stammer, your voice a hushed, broken thing. “I couldn’t—he was just there, and I froze. I couldn’t think—”

Agatha leans forward, presses her forehead to yours, grounding you with the weight of her presence. Her hands don’t leave your face “You don’t have to,” she murmurs. “You don’t ever have to. I’ll always say it for you.”

And something inside you—something that’s been locked tight since the day Lily’s father first left—cracks. It doesn’t shatter. It softens. Nicholas kneels beside her now, quiet and solemn. Still watchful. Still protective. You reach for him without hesitation, and the moment your arms wrap around him, he leans in.

His little body folds into yours, strong and brave and still so tender. You press a hand to the back of his head, fingers curling through his hair, and hold him like he’s your own—because he is. He clings to you like he always knew how this would end. Like he never doubted for a second that you’d all be okay. And in that moment, the silence isn’t painful. It’s healing.

Outside the room, the world continues on like nothing happened. But inside? You’re still catching your breath. You don’t know how long you sit like that—pressed into Nicholas’s side, Agatha still kneeling between you and the rest of the world, shielding you with her body and her love. Long enough that your breathing starts to steady. Long enough that your hands stop shaking.

Agatha finally speaks again, soft and deliberate “Nicholas,” she says gently, brushing a hand over his shoulder. “Will you go wake Lily, sweetheart? Just tell her lunch is here.”

He hesitates for only a moment. Not because he’s unsure—just because he’s not quite ready to leave you yet. But when your hand squeezes his, reassuring him, he nods “Okay,” he whispers, rising slowly.

You watch him disappear down the hall toward Lily’s room. And the second he’s out of sight— Agatha pulls you into her arms. Not carefully. Not cautiously. But fully. With both arms wrapping around you like she’s been dying to since the moment she walked through that door. Like she’s trying to fit all the comfort in the world into one embrace. And you collapse into her without hesitation.

You clutch at her coat. Bury your face into her shoulder. Your body curls toward her like a tide pulled by the moon. You let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in your ribs for years. She doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t need to. Her arms say it all. You’re safe.

You’re loved. And no one—no one—is ever going to take that from you again. Agatha holds you like she’s trying to stitch you back together piece by piece. Your arms remain locked around her, face tucked into the crook of her neck, your breaths shallow and uneven against the soft fabric of her coat. You’re still unraveling—still letting go of the fear that had anchored itself in your chest the moment that door swung open. But her touch, her warmth, her steady presence—her—grounds you.

Her lips press softly to your temple, then again just above your ear. “Shh,” she whispers, breath light against your skin. “You’re alright now, love. He’s gone.”

Another kiss—this time to your cheek “You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

Her voice is a lullaby. A prayer. A promise wrapped in velvet and steel. You nod faintly against her shoulder, eyes still closed, trying to slow your breathing to match hers. She’s rubbing your back now, long and soothing strokes, and murmuring things only meant for you.

“My darling girl…”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“He doesn’t get to touch this life. Our life.” You exhale shakily, your hands curling in the back of her coat as another wave of emotion rolls through you. Not panic. Not fear.

Just relief. The soft thump of little feet makes you lift your head slightly. Down the hallway, Nicholas reappears first, pausing only to give a glance over his shoulder before continuing toward the living room. Lily follows close behind him, rubbing her eyes with one fist, her other hand clutching the hem of her pajama top. Her curls are wild from sleep, her music box still faintly playing in the background.

The moment she sees you on the couch—tucked tightly into Agatha’s arms—she stops. Her eyes squint in confusion “Momma?”

Your breath hitches. She doesn’t sound scared. Just curious. But she tilts her head in that intuitive little way of hers, her sleepy eyes narrowing slightly like she knows. Like she can feel the shift in the air. Like she senses something in you has cracked and is still stitching itself back together.

Without another word, Lily crosses the room. You and Agatha make no move to stop her. You couldn’t if you tried. She reaches the couch and looks up at both of you—your red-rimmed eyes, Agatha’s protective posture. She climbs without hesitation into the small space between your bodies and curls up like she’s always belonged there.

And the truth is… she has. Her head tucks under your chin, one arm wrapping around your middle while her other hand finds Agatha’s sleeve and clings to it with gentle fingers. She lets out a soft sigh as she settles into both of you at once, content and trusting, as if this is the safest place she knows.

Agatha shifts slightly, her hand stroking the back of Lily’s head, smoothing her curls as she leans in and presses a kiss to her hair. You feel her smile against your temple “She’s okay,” she whispers. “We’re okay.”

And just like that— You believe her. The weight hasn’t disappeared. It may never fully leave. But it no longer belongs to just you. Because now, there are arms to hold you when it gets too heavy. And small hands reaching for you when your heart forgets how to hope. And this— This quiet moment in the living room, with a brave boy still standing watch and your daughter nestled into the space where your broken pieces meet hers—

This is home. Agatha kisses your temple softly—lingering, slow—before finally pulling back. Reluctantly. Her hand trails down your back as she rises, unwilling to leave you for long, but knowing you need space to breathe again. She brushes a strand of hair from your face and offers the smallest, reassuring smile before glancing down at Lily, who’s now nestled against your side, thumb half in her mouth, eyes fluttering somewhere between drowsy and comforted.

Agatha bends low and kisses the crown of Lily’s curls too, then straightens, turning toward the kitchen. “Nicholas,” she says gently, her tone soft but laced with something unspoken. “Come help me plate lunch, sweetheart?”

Nicholas nods immediately and stands, casting one more glance at you before following her. You watch as they disappear into the kitchen together, their voices muffled beneath the hum of clinking dishes and the shifting of cabinets.

You remain on the couch, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along Lily’s back, trying to focus on the warmth of her body curled against yours instead of the echo of old fear still lingering in your ribs. From the kitchen, you hear Agatha handing Nicholas the first plate.

“Here,” she says, her voice still steady, still composed. “Start with this one, alright? Careful—it’s warm.” There’s a pause, and then the soft sound of another plate being handed off. And then—silence. You can’t see her anymore, but you know Agatha has stopped moving. The quiet is different now. Still. When she speaks again, it’s in a voice you almost don’t recognize. Low. Measured.

“Hi, Evelyn,” she says, and you realize she’s on the phone. “I need you to cancel the rest of my day. No, all of it. Push whatever you can to next week.” A pause.

“No, don’t reschedule unless I personally follow up. Just hold everything.” Another beat. Her voice drops even lower, almost a murmur “I have a situation. It’s… personal.”

Your heart aches at the sound of it. She’s doing it without asking. Without fanfare. She didn’t even look at her calendar. She just made the call. Because of you. Because she’s afraid he might come back. Because she sees you as more than the woman he abandoned. Because you’re hers. She hangs up quietly. You hear the low scrape of a chair pushed back under the table. Then her footsteps pad back across the kitchen floor, soft and deliberate. By the time she reenters the room, she’s already slipped her practiced smile back into place. Her voice is light, almost casual.

“So,” she says, walking over with the last two plates in hand, “turns out I’m not needed at the office anymore today. A few things shifted. I figured it’s the universe’s way of saying we deserve a movie afternoon.”

Nicholas perks up from his spot on the rug, already halfway through his sandwich. “Can we do popcorn, too? Like real popcorn?”

“Absolutely,” she replies smoothly, handing him the plate before setting hers down on the coffee table. “Extra butter, no compromises.”

Lily stirs beside you, lifting her head. “Movie?” she echoes sleepily. Agatha leans down again, her hand brushing gently through Lily’s curls. “Mm-hmm. Whatever you want. Blankets, snacks, the whole thing.” Lily’s sleepy smile spreads slowly, and she wiggles in excitement, still burrowed in your side. Nicholas is already listing off movie options, something about dragons and talking animals.

And you—you look at Agatha. Really look. She’s standing there like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just cancel a full day of high-profile meetings. Like she didn’t just choose you over obligations, image, or expectation. Like this moment is exactly where she wants to be. And maybe it is.

But you can read her. Better than most. There’s something tight around the corners of her eyes. Not worry for herself. For you. For what could’ve happened. For what still might. You see it. You feel it.

But you don’t call her on it. Because she’s doing what she always does—protecting, anchoring, loving in a way that asks for nothing in return. So instead, you reach out and gently slide your hand into hers as she sits beside you. You don’t say thank you. You don’t have to. Because the look in your eyes says it all: No one’s ever done this for me before. And she smiles. Just for you. Like she already knows.

The living room is filled with the gentle clatter of forks on plates and the quiet hum of a cartoon menu screen playing in the background. Nicholas is stretched out on the rug, cross-legged and already halfway through his lunch. Lily is now curled beside him with her plate balanced carefully on a cushion, still drowsy but too intrigued by the promise of a movie to resist.

You glance toward them—your heart swelling—and then shift your gaze to Agatha. She’s just about to settle onto the armchair beside fyou, plate in hand, when you reach out and open your arms without a word. Her eyes meet yours immediately. She hesitates for the briefest moment, eyes flicking down to her untouched food. “You should eat,” she murmurs. “You need something in your system.”

“I’m not hungry,” you say quietly, Agatha frowns, clearly unconvinced, but you don’t move you arms. You lift both legs up positioning yourself to stretch across the couch, just giving her that look—the one that always makes her soften. The one that says, I need you more than anything else right now. And finally, with a small, resigned exhale, she sets her plate down on the side table and comes to you. Lowering herself carefully, she lets her body shift until her back is tucked into your chest, legs tangling with your own. You slide your arms around her waist, pulling her closer—tighter—until there’s no space left to hold anything else but her.

Agatha leans back into your embrace, her breath catching softly at the contact. Your fingers brush her wrist before settling over her heartbeat, steady and real beneath your palm. And then, quietly, with your lips near the edge of her ear “I love you.”

Agatha stills “I love you so much,” you whisper again. “And I need you to know how much I appreciate what you did. What you always do.” She doesn’t respond right away. But you feel it—the way her hand finds yours over her ribs, how her fingers slip between yours like they were always meant to be there.

You press your cheek to her temple. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For staying. For protecting us. For putting everything down just to be here.” Agatha turns her head just slightly, enough for her lips to brush your jaw.

“I’ll always choose you,” she whispers back. “No matter what I’m holding. You’ll always come first.” Her voice cracks on the last word. You tighten your arms around her, and she lets herself fall fully into your hold. And for a moment, you don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to be anything but loved.

On the floor below you, Lily giggles quietly at something on the screen. Nicholas starts quoting a line along with the characters, as if he’s seen this movie a dozen times already. And in the warmth of that living room—held between the two children you’d lay your life down for and the woman who would burn the world to keep you safe—you finally let yourself rest.

The movie plays quietly, the sound low enough to be calming, loud enough to keep Lily’s attention. At least for a while. It doesn’t take long for her eyes to grow heavy again. She’s half-curled in Nicholas’s lap, one hand still clutching her blanket, the other loosely resting on his arm like she trusts him to keep her safe. He doesn’t move. You don’t think he even notices how naturally he shifts to make her more comfortable, eyes still on the screen. But you notice.

You always notice. Agatha is warm and soft against your chest, nestled under your chin, her breathing slow and even. She hasn’t moved either, save for the occasional gentle squeeze of your hand or a thumb rubbing lazy circles over your forearm. You don’t know how long you fell asleep for. The movie ends. The screen goes dark. The apartment settles into that perfect late evening stillness—sunlight filtering through the curtains in slanted beams, the hum of the heater in the background, the occasional soft breath from one of the kids.

You wake first. Not fully—just enough to notice the weight of her in your arms. Agatha. Curled against you, her back tucked securely into your chest, your arms wrapped around her waist. One of your hands rests flat over her stomach, the other loosely hooked beneath her ribs, holding her gently—protectively. The slow rise and fall of her breath guides yours, steady and soothing, like the rhythm of a lullaby.

Your face is pressed into her shoulder, her hair soft against your cheek. The scent of her—lavender and something warmer, distinctly her—wraps around you like a second blanket. And then you feel them. The extra warmth draped across your legs, tangled in your blankets and tucked into the smallest spaces between you.

Lily, nestled against your shins, her little arm thrown across your thigh like she claimed it in her sleep. Nicholas, one leg stretched across the edge of the couch, his head resting just above Agatha’s hip, his arm curled protectively over Lily without even realizing it.

They must’ve crawled up there sometime after the movie ended. Searching for warmth. For you. For Agatha. For the safety they knew they’d find tucked into that little space between your bodies. Your heart swells with something quiet and overwhelming. You let your eyes close again for a moment, just to breathe it in.

The quiet.

The warmth.

The weight of this life you never dared believe could be yours. Agatha stirs a little in your arms. Not fully awake—just the small, instinctive movement of someone adjusting in her sleep. She shifts enough to lace her fingers with yours at her waist, letting out a soft sigh as she presses back into you.

You smile, brushing your lips over her shoulder. When she finally begins to wake, it’s slow and soft—her lashes fluttering against her cheek, her body stretching ever so slightly in your hold before settling again. Her head tilts, and you nuzzle closer, murmuring something unintelligible just to let her know you’re there.

She hums, low and sleepy, her voice thick with drowsiness “They’re still out cold.” You lift your head just enough to glance down. Lily’s lips are parted slightly, her cheek smushed into the curve of your leg. Nicholas hasn’t moved either—though his brow is faintly furrowed, like he’s dreaming something serious.

You smile faintly, your free hand drifting up to brush a piece of hair away from Agatha’s temple “They needed it,” you whisper.

Agatha hums again, then turns her head just enough to see you over her shoulder. Her eyes are still heavy with sleep, but they shine with something warm—something whole “This… feels real.”

You nod slowly, eyes flicking over the children wrapped around you, the steady weight of Agatha in your arms, the golden light of early evening filtering across the couch “It is real.”

She breathes in, and you feel it—the slight tension in her chest as she gathers her thoughts, her emotions. Her fingers squeeze yours at her waist “I keep thinking about that moment earlier,” she says quietly. “How fast it could’ve changed. How fast he could’ve ruined something that took us so long to build.”

You pull her a little closer, your arm tightening around her waist “He didn’t, though. He didn’t ruin anything.”

She nods, slowly, but her expression softens into something more vulnerable. Her eyes search yours—hesitant now. Nervous in the way someone is when they’re about to take a leap, even into something they already love.

“I was thinking…” she starts, voice low, “about how I never want you to feel that helpless again. That afraid. And about how you shouldn’t have to raise Lily in fear of him showing up unwelcome—“ You feel your heart skip.

She shifts slightly in your arms to better see your face, fingers now tracing absent shapes along your forearm where it wraps around her waist “So,” she continues, “what if you didn’t stay here anymore?”

Your breath catches. She doesn’t let you answer. Not yet. She turns fully in your arms now, carefully, so as not to disturb the children, until she’s facing you—her hands coming up to cup your face “Move in with us,” she says, sure and clear now. “With me and Nicholas. Let’s make this a real family—like it already is.”

You just stare at her for a moment, stunned. She waits. No pressure. No fear. Just an open heart, held out for you “You’re serious,” you breathe.

Agatha nods slowly. “I’ve never been more serious about anything.” She smiles, brushing her thumbs across your cheeks “I want you with me. I want Lily with us. I want mornings with cereal on the floor and nights that end like this.”

You can’t help the small, shaky laugh that escapes you, your eyes burning. You lean forward until your forehead rests against hers “You already had me,” you whisper. Her reply is softer still, a breath against your lips.

“I know.“ She cups your jaw, tilts her face up to meet yours “But now I want to give you more.”

You close the distance then. The kiss is soft—so soft—but deep in the way only something honest can be. You taste the promise on her lips. You feel it in her hands. In the way she doesn’t pull away, even as Lily shifts in her sleep and Nicholas exhales loudly like he’s about to wake.

It’s imperfect and quiet and absolutely everything. You stay like that, forehead to forehead, breath mingling, wrapped around each other while the people you love most sleep across your legs. And for once, you don’t feel the urge to brace for what might go wrong. You just let yourself feel what’s already right snd a future that was finally beginning to take shape.

——————————

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it and I’m sorry for any typos. It’s currently 3 o’clock in the morning and I’m exhausted💀

[craziertogether]

will’s character is equally as nerfed as mikes.

tbh i hate to say it but it’s equally as valid to say that will’s character arc is equally as nerfed as mike’s IF byler isn’t endgame. will has been nothing but the stereotype of tragic gay kid. he’s experienced nothing but misery from the second he was introduced.

abusive, sexist, homophobic, AND absent father (who may have SA’d him, if you subscribe to that belief).

bros also literally canonically poor asf like brother… get your bag up fr.

LITERALLY GOES MISSING for a week and has his death FAKED by the government.

will’s trauma isn’t actually unpacked on screen, we’re left to wonder what happened to him and how he was able to survive in the upside down for that week when bigger and tougher people have died.

been possessed by the mindflayer for all of S2, brother cannot catch a break

forced to have a connection with the UD, vecna, and all that even after his trauma from literally being stuck there for a week

love joyce but her overbearing nature in the seasons isn’t that great for him either because as will said “everyone treats him like he’s different” (except someone hmm i wonder why)

set up to be this sad bullied kid, described as “all alone” by mike FROM THE BEGINNING. bullied by troy in life and even after his “death”. isn’t even accepted when he does come back to school in s2

is low-key replaced by eleven by the group while he’s gone. (i love willel don’t start)

mike replaces him for el, lucas and max aren’t as close with him in season 3, dustin has suzie and the russians plot line

wants to play DND all summer and is ignored just to have his best friends leave and join a new party like not even a little bit later bro.. the SECOND they joined hs 😭💀

has basically been sidelined for 2 full seasons as the guy who gets a tingly neck feeling every 3 weeks. he’s not even considered smart or brave anymore, js the guy with the little itty bitty twitches on his neck and loves to touch it

is STILL not well liked by his peers in california plot line because of his sister

lowk is forced to become siblings with the girl that his first love is dating (again love willel stop)

tragically plays match maker for the doomed couple (literally the ONLY person who cares about their relationship)

is written to be a sad gay boy in love with his childhood best friend since idk SEASON 1. don’t get me started in why this is actually js torturous to have done if it will end with m*leven endgame.

hes basically a prop for this ship that is TECHNICALLY STILL canonically true but leaves will with all his trauma and gay pining to currently be put at risk of being sidelined forever for the development of m*leven (painting lie)

wasted how much time on that masterpiece of a painting to then sit in a HOT ASS VAN and pour his entire soul into mike just to try and salvage a dead relationship

forced him to lie to his BEST friend, who, even if they byler not endgame is the most important person in will’s life next to his mother.

forced to LITERALLY COMFORT THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE as he’s still being a gay mess and struggling to say that he loves his own fake girlfriend

sat through mike’s piece of shit monologue and heard him tell his gf that he loved her like 10 times

not only was the monologue garbage but it probably felt genuine to will who’s been on the receiving end of mike’s motivational talks. although he should’ve clocked it as in-genuine, he probably feels like he doesn’t remember mike anymore bc they haven’t talked in months in this essay i will-

basically if byler isn’t canon, will is set up to be amongst the worst characters in the show. maybe his connection to the UD is deep as hell but even if they explain will’s secret powers or connection to the upside down, his personal development outside of the supernatural is absolutely DOG SHIT. he could be more powerful than el in the telepathy world and it would still feel like emotionally he’s been nothing but a sad doormat for the writers that only gets remembered every time there’s a small disturbance in the UD. like no development except pure torture and sidelining him for two whole seasons to be nothing more than sad gay boy that the entire GA hates bc it threatens m*leven endgame.

[iwaasfairy]

FAIIRYYYYYYY!!!!!! WRITE FOR KENMA AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

a quick little smt smt because kenma has been on my mind since I watched the movIEEEE I loVE HIM O WANT hIM ♡♡

tw twincest, implied past underage content

“Don’t let the twins run off together without supervision,” your mom used to tell your aunt if she’d babysit. ‘Babysit’ as in lighten the load of two sneaky, restless pre-teens on your very overworked parents. Your brother was quiet, and shy around everyone that he didn’t know well, but he was always a force with you. One who knew what he wanted, and would get you to play along as long as you’d let him.

They’re up to no good, she’d pet your head with affection, but brows furrowed with something other. Aunts, cousins, family friends. Always said it with a certain look at you both, before leaning in to whisper— and you guess back then they knew something you didn’t.

Kenma probably knew. He just didn’t care you never did, because even with the added surveillance of older cousins he’d still find a way to dash off with your hand in his. Giggling and panting where you’d snuggle together in the alley behind the woodshed, or ducked into the pantry under the stairs to whisper and let him show you all kinds of things. Usually it was just the next enemy on his beat up Gameboy, or some cards he traded with Kuroo, or even a new trick with the ball. Sometimes it was something else, hand over your mouth when he told you to keep quiet.

“Your teacher told me a certain pair of twins always skip out on classes together,” your dad chastises over dinner one night after a big volleybal match. “Wonder which twins he could possibly be referring to.” This time it was the back room behind the gym equipment— only hastily cleaned up before the teachers stormed in. Can’t help it, a slight smile starts pulling at your lips.

You almost laugh when Kenma kicks your foot under the table, as your spoon clings too hard against the porcelain plates. “Just because Kenma does stupid boy stuff that will get him in trouble—” Your father’s thin glasses are down his nose as he looks at just you, interrupting your opened mouth to point your way, “doesn’t mean you have to join him. I really expect better from you kids.”

He acts like you’re supposed to know better. Maybe he should wonder if Kenma’s just convincing. It’s a simple and quick answer, he is. From the way Kenma slurps his soup, staring you down across the table under thick, playful lashes, you learn that apparently it’s more acceptable for boys to act mischievous. “Sorry, dad.” Big brother sighs.

Kenma’s feet grab yours to pull it up onto his chair, then plays with your toes so that you have to hold the giggle from breaking out in between the sharp breathing through your nose. “Sorry, daddy.” You parrot when he doesn’t let up, biting your lip at the way he pushes his thumb in.

Your dad is none the wiser, and just sighs. “You’re the older brother, Kenma. I want you to take care of your sister, not lead her astray.”

He does though, you want to say. Just maybe not in the way they’d like to see him care.

It’s only natural that you follow your big brother, your other half, across Tokyo after graduation. Into a bigger apartment where he can stream— when he asks it under hushed whispers trailing fingers down your arm. Of course you say yes.

It’s how you find yourself with your head on his lap, letting his long, skinny fingers trail through your hair as he sinks deeper into the couch. “D’you want some Thai too? I have to work at three so we can’t go out yet. That’s okay by you, right?” He’s so pretty from here, looks down at you with those sharp, calculating eyes with a softness reserved for just you.

“I’ll eat what you eat, nii nii,” you yawn, and also lift your upper half a bit more to press kisses to his hard cock, lick up the bead of glistening precum there. You’ll do whatever your twin wants you to do. You’ll do what you’ve always done.

Taking his cock into your mouth makes him let out the prettiest mumble, pushing up into your soft lips a little more as he agrees. “I know.” You let your head be pushes down as you hollow your cheeks around him, and choke just a little before you reach his pubes- pushing into the back of your throat. It’s hot, and he tastes so good. “I don’t need anyone else. Y’know that?”

“Mhm,” you’re nodding while pulling back, instead going to suck on his balls with an eager tongue. His cock twitches to get back to you. And the coy smile on your face as you look up from his lap makes him groan, holding the phone away from his mouth for a few seconds to watch you. “Guess we shouldn’t have been let off without supervision, huh?”

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Mame is fielding one of my favorite shows, what is the world coming to?

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

(This was gonna be ready yesterday and then I realized I'd missed 2. Sigh. I'm doing well.)

Feb 2025 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 10 of 12 - SHUT UP. I love them more than anything. I love how nervous and hesitant Thame was the next morning. Def the younger boy who bagged the experienced older dude. This show makes me go “aww” a lot. I do hate this part of the plot though. Because I loathe parasocial fandoms with every fiber of my being and this is why.

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 6 of 10 - The plot has gone wildly off the rails, like into Days of Our Lives waffle iron territory. It is utterly absurd. But I'm still watching it.

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 12 end - I love Style so much. The perfect Brat but he is playing Petruchio not the shrew! Ironic and very kinky twist on the original. I also love how most BLs are like “we’re gonna separate them for 2-5 years in the final ep” and Kant & Style were all “fuck that noise.” 

Summary

Jojo directs this action romcom about assassin brothers (Khao & Joong) meets tattoo artist ex-booster (First) and very flirty mechanic (Dunk) conmen. I dithered over how to rate this. It felt like an 8 show wearing a 9’s britches. There were dropped threads, forgotten characters, and unfinished plot lines even with a particularly long run time. And, for me, it doesn’t have significant rewatch potential. But it was fun (when one applies no expectations or logic) and I enjoyed the wildly unhinged relationships and, weirdly, music. I mean nobody claimed that we needed Taming of the Shrew only with gay Thai hitman, but we really needed it. And no one asked for Petruchio as the gayest brat ever to strut his perfect skin and copped-top across our screen, and yet we loved him for it. Sure it didn’t make sense, was utterly absurd, but it was terribly earnest and sexy about it. IN the end this goes hand-in-hand with all these other absurd crime pieces we’ve been getting since KP, and frankly I like this one the best from Thailand so far. 9/10 but I’m slightly uncomfortable with that decision.

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 16 of 24 - It’s cute. They were cute. I enjoyed it. But I am still mostly just looking forward to the next couple.

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 7-8 end - I forgot to watch this one for over a week, goes to show how engaged I am. Anygay, ep 7 amnesia trope is ago. A lot the ep was fuss in hospitals so I went ahead and watched the finale as well. It was fine.

Conclusion

Given its charmingly simple premise and a solid lead pair, this could’ve been quite an tidy little BL, but it went all weird and slapstick and overtly sexual (and I enjoy high heat). It was a little bit like YYY meets modern Thai BL but mixed with early Japanese pinks. All very strange. I ended up being half bored half annoyed half confused half embarrassed. And if that’s too many halves for you, now you know how I felt. 5/10 

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 4 or 10 - Umm plot? Where are you?

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 6 of 12 - Workplace harassment, form of... Thai BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 6 of 10 - Is the live-in boyfriend meant to be perceived as a psychopath or just a controlling monster? I love how blunt Sei was with him. Such and honest little bean. Ah, controlling monster.  Well, I really hope they can resolve this in the final episode. Despite all of the pain I’m enjoying it, it's being true to itself.

This is JBL doing its thing and toeing the Tokyo in April party line. I don't know why anyone would expect anything different. Go watch Eternal Yesterday and drink me later. This is what Japan DOES with BL at least half the time. The more JBL we get, the more of this kind of show we get with it. It's a numbers game - just add bruises.

Heart Stain (Korea Weds IQIYI) eps 3-4 of 8 - I have to admit that the only reason I even tolerate love triangles as a trope is because of K-dramas. But I still don’t like it. That said, I do like all of the honesty and conflict that's built into this story and frankly dealt with because of the trope. And I love how massive Woohyeon is so baby girl. The lap sitting was extremely cute. The teacher finding them lap sitting was also cute. And the handhold drag afterwards was cutest. The whole scene was adorable. 

FC Soldout (Korea Thurs iQIYI) eps 5-6 of 8 - Tiny idiots. Every. Single. One. (@heretherebedork you must be loving these boys.) Give me a sec to talk to a character: Captain. Sweetcheeks. You know there are better ways to exhaust your adorable boy-toy late at night than forcing him to do physical labor, right? Or, at least, not that kind of physical labor.

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 9 of 12 - Oooo. emotional Ever 4. Poor baby. I did want to see him kick ass. Hopefully that’s the beginning of next week’s episode. 

Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki) eps 6 of 9 - Very little happened in this episode. Lots of flashbacks. And stuff we’ve already seen.

Fight for Love (Vietnam YT) ep 2 - Ooo 2 timing? Coils within coils, tongues within tongues, my goodness these boys are getting around. It’s all very messy gay drama llama ding dong but... comedy. It’s a new one on me. But sooner that than Thailand’s Only Friends version.

Exclusive Love (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 1-2 of 12 - Shy aspiring singer inherits funeral business. Nice to have something more from Taiwan to watch. But this is extremely odd, and somewhat extreme behavior, given the premise. That is a lot of personnel and sunglasses just for one guitar-playing influencer. Even if I agree that he shouldn’t be allowed to play. Surreal that it’s a mafia funeral business, although I suppose it makes sense. It’s not creepy, but the creep-factor is high with this show. It's also v thirsty already. I kind of like the sides, but they seem to be in a different BL. So far, mostly whiplash but I'm not mad about it.

Checkered Shirt (Korea YT) ep 2 of 8 - It remains awkward and cute, but a little boring for a short. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 19 of 20 - Today in: how to tell your suicidal stepbro you wanna d**k him out. 

It's airing but......

Gelboys (Thai Weds iQIYI) ep 1 of 7 - I’m immediately terrified by the fact that he’s carrying a guitar around. It’s slow with that dirty gritty high school authenticity thing from OG Love Sick. Which is not my favorite style of any show, let alone BL. I always get Kids PTSD. I think I’m gonna give this show a pass. It’s just too far out of my wheelhouse. I don’t have patience for this right now.

The Last Time (Thai WeTV) trailer - from 2024, not sure about this one, looks dark. Since it's also difficult for me to get hold of I am giving it a pass until I know about the ending.

Speaking of which...

In Case You Missed it

I Will Turn Back Time (China Gaga) 6 eps - Spies report it does not end well. Stepbrothers trope = yeah! but all other messaging = boo. I'm not gonna bother.

End of year wraps are here!

2024 Trend Report

MY BEST & WORST BLs of 2024

Best Kisses (and sex scenes) of 2024

BL's 2024 Quirky Awards

2024 Awards - Quick Picks

Next Week Looks Like This:

2/21 Bali Hai (Thailand ????) no MDL listing, only rumors, unsure on deets.

2/27 Secret Relationships (Korea iQIYI) - Stars Wei's Kim Jun Seo. Adapted by Cradle Studio (Kakao). About clever and resourceful Daon who has worked hard to overcome being poor. His cheap ways annoy his coworker, Sunghyeon but after “an incident” with his parents, Daon grows closer to him. But Daon also has feelings for his former tutor. This has the signs of a classic Kdrama all over it: Office setting, love triangle, lead suffering for his self-actualization. I’m optimistic about a longer treatment.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Got nothing. Frankly you're lucky this came in a somewhat timely manner, with any screen caps at all. It's chaos 'round these parts.

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[meteor752]

My preference for Ody/god ships are so funny (when it comes to smut, I like the romantic stuff slightly or more toxic)

Ody/Zeus? Ody is always sub and bottom, Zeus is too proud to not be dominant 🙄

Ody/Poseidon? Ody is always bottom, before 600 Strikes he's more submissive, after this he's an agressive, sadistic power bottom. Poseidon is feeling like he's topped though. Destroy this shark guy's ego

Ody/Hermes? They're all over the place. They're switches and versatiles. Sub bottom Hermes is still manipulative though. I think Hermes will do anything to keep Ody at his side

I think Ody/Athena would be a fun ship, but I don't see them doing any sexual stuff 😔

And I know they're not in the musical, but Ody/Persephone/Hades 😳 Persephone is definitely a femdom

Also, Ody/Zeus/Poseidon is so good 😼

Zeus needs to be dominant, no matter who he takes to bed, and if his partner even tries to take control then he might just straight up kill them. Odysseus also learn very quickly that he wants to be worshipped, something he’s more than happy to do if it means he’s kept in good favour.

I think Odysseus could top, and even be the dom at certain points, but it will always be on Poseidon’s terms. He is the one who has all the control, don’t get it twisted, he just sometimes likes it when Ody gets all aggressive, and well, ruthless with him. Extra attractive to him since he’s the one who made him like that. But usually Poseidon is the one on top, and oh boy he likes to play it rough. He’s probably Odysseus’ least favourite of the gods.

Oh Ody and Hermes is like, just a whole thing. Just like with Poseidon, Hermes will always have control of the scene, even when he lets Odysseus lead. He can be very mean though, especially when he’s the dominant, though not often enough that Odysseus would associate it with him. He may seem very impulsive and flippant, but every move he makes when it comes to his mortal is very calculated. Aftercare is usually lovely though.

The way I see Odysseus and Athena is that she is laying all her attention on him. She’s ace and sex just does kinda nothing for her, but on the rare occasion that she forms a connection with someone she doesn’t mind it, as long as she’s not like, fully apart of it (weird phrasing but idk how to phrase it lol). She’ll stroke, caress, and show love to him, truly taking it slow and affectionate, and enjoys seeing the bliss her warrior is in. She’d probably be Odysseus fave tbh.

Persephone and Hades would probably take Odysseus like, once in a blue moon, mainly as a way for Hades to piss off his brothers (Persy is just along for the ride. She loves her husband, what can I say?).

Also, I see Persephone and Hades as fully like, taking turns when it comes to dominance, depending on their moods and stuff. They have a lot of talks and communication around it, it’s very healthy.

While Zeus can be kinda soft (if not a little selfish) with his lovers when it’s just him, he gets way more aggressive when his older brother gets involved. He needs to establish is dominance over Poseidon at all times or he might explode, and Poseidon just grits his teeth and bears it. Poor Odysseus is just caught in the middle of all this, but Zeus is surprisingly a more attentive lover when Poseidon is in the picture, so it’s not all bad.

Is this my legacy?

[julymusings]

Jason Todd x South Asian!Reader HCs

requested | reader is fem, i tried to keep it non-specific so it applies to the whole region, not just india, hopefully i succeeded😬

i looooved writing this it was so much fun. drop an ask with anything else you want to see!!

batboys x south asian!reader masterlist

When you show him Bollywood movies, at first he’s like “Why are these so damn long?” But watches them anyway because you’re so excited to show him

He obviously sobs at K3G (because he has daddy AND big brother issues)

But his favorite is probably 3 Idiots or Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (he just seems like the type to looove an underdog story am I right)

Since Jason likes cooking, he’s learning how to make all your favorite foods. He’s eaten a lot of Indian food before (duh, it’s New Jersey), so he’s familiar with the flavors and spices, but some dishes are easier than others. He tries to make dosa after you mentioned liking it but it does not go well

He’s trying so hard to impress you but they all keep breaking😭 and the ones that don’t break come out burnt. When he finally relents and lets you help him, you hold his hand and guide him to make the proper movements; pouring the batter, spreading it into a circle, and gently flipping it so it doesn’t break

He loves chai, and is always experimenting with different recipes and flavors and asking you to test them

You're taking him to the Indian market so often, by the end of the month he knows the names for all the vegetables and spices in your language and where to find them

He thinks you with mehendi/henna is the most attractive thing ever

Your friend’s getting married? Of course he’ll feed you while your mehendi’s drying, you don't even have to ask

When it's still fresh and at its darkest color he's actually going batshit insane (pun intended); he loves interlacing your fingers together and seeing the contrast of your dark, decorated fingers against his large, strong ones. His phone background is a selfie of you guys where your faces are squished side-by-side and one of your mehendi'd hands is cupping his cheek

And when you're on top of him, the sight of your adorned hands pressed flat against his bare chest, flushed and heaving...he thinks it belongs in a museum

He just loves doing little acts of service; one day you’re complaining offhandedly to him about how the price of eyebrow threading keeps going up, a week later you’ve forgotten all about it but he’s like “I learned how to thread your eyebrows”

He figured it would be easy enough, and as someone who’s life often depends on steady, surgical aim and precision, it is

Roy’s walking around looking messed up as fuck for a couple weeks but that’s beside the point because he’s got the hang of it now 

When it comes to putting on a sari, he'll put the pins in the hard to reach places if you ask, but for the most part he just loves watching you put it on. he thinks it's so cute the way you scrunch your face in focus as you make the folds and tuck in the fabric with such concentration (Jason Todd domesticity agenda)

One night you're getting dressed up for some party, but no matter what you do and how many times you take it off and try to re-drape it, it just won't come out good and you get so frustrated and teary-eyed that he has to intervene

He makes you take a break, brings you a snack, and kisses you until you feel better, and then he pulls up a youtube video to do it for you— but he can't do it either😭

So you both decide to give up and you wear a lehenga instead

It’s a fairly modest one, and even though he's seen you wearing more-revealing clothes (and none at all), he's going crazy over that one inch sliver of exposed skin on your midriff

He already loves seeing you dressed up in traditional wear but if you put jasmine flowers in your hair with it??? The fragrance coming from you makes him feral. It lingers in your hair for a couple days and he can’t stop following you around and sniffing you LMAO

The first time you get a kurta for him, it’s actually impossible to find one that fits because he’s so big and buff (drool) so you just end up buying the fabric and getting it custom stitched

There's only a few scraps of the fabric left and you get the wonderful idea of braiding the scraps into a bracelet so you have something to match with him and it makes him go crazy

Early on in your relationship, you’re a little afraid to have oil in your hair in front of him because you’re worried he’ll think the smell is too strong

Jason is probably familiar with the practice of hair oiling from his time with Talia (but you don’t know that yet)

He actually LOVES when you oil your hair around him. Just something about him being the only one who gets to see you when you’re comfy and unready is so intimate to him and makes him feel so special and trusted and loved🥹

Time for some of my physical touch x touch starved!Jason propaganda

After a particularly difficult night of patrolling, he comes to you stressed and anxious and unsure what to do with himself. So you make him sit on the floor in front of your bed, warm up some of the oil, and seat yourself on the edge of the mattress. He leans back against your legs and you massage the warm oil into his scalp. It feels heavenly. You’re using the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots, and it feels so good he wants to cry. Later, when you pull him into the shower to shampoo it out, he actually does cry, hoping the water falling from the shower head hides the tears (it doesn’t, and it breaks your heart)

(If you were raised Hindu) I think he'd be very interested in the belief in reincarnation, past & future lives, oneness with the universe, etc...it might help him make some sense of his coming back

You bring mediation into his life, and that also really helps him

You wear Kajal/kohl/surma on your eyes, and whenever he’s looking especially good, or before he goes out as red hood, you smudge some onto your finger and put a mark behind his ear, just to be safe (it’s believed to deflect jealousy/bad intentions from others) (yes I’m superstitious sue me)

Or you just tie a black thread around his ankle

When you first explain to him that you want him to wear a black thread around his ankle because of a superstition, he thinks you’re joking. He can’t believe you actually believe in that 

But he can’t say no to you and he secretly likes that you also have one so it feels like you’re matching 

He considers it a good luck charm, not because he believes the superstition but because it’s from you

[specific-dreamer]

“because you’re our little brother and we love you… did you hear what i just said? i said i love you”

whatever you do don’t think about how before everything ponyboy would have been ecstatic to hear that.

don’t think about how ponyboy tried to convince himself that since darry didn’t love him, he in turn didn’t care about him but he failed everytime.

don’t think about how ponyboy stayed up some nights asking soda how come darry changed and why he didn’t like pony no more. and soda doing his best to convince pony that darry does still love he’s just tired all the time and he’s still having trouble adjusting to their new dynamic too but pony just doesn’t get it.

don’t think about how if darry just said i love you a little more often they wouldn’t have been in this mess. if he said it a little more than maybe he and ponyboy wouldn’t have gotten in so many arguments and soda wouldn’t have to have been caught playing middle man

definitely don’t think about how upsetting it must’ve been for darry to finally bare his soul and tell pony he loves him only to be met with silence in return.

dont think about how he darry might’ve thought that a simple i love you is what would’ve brought them back to normal, because he didn’t realise just how bad their relationship got to the point of him needing that olive branch later.

except (and definitely don’t think about this part) ponyboy knows atp that his brothers love him. but he still thinks they love him but don’t really accept all of him. because up til this point his friends hated darry for nearly going soc, so to a kid his age the message he got was “we don’t want all of you; we just want the part of you that’s a greaser”. so when darry asks to read his story, when darry extends that branch, he asking to understand/get to know all of ponyboy. something nobody else did except for johnny (and maybe cherry for that one night).

sure soda asked to, but when pony said he wasn’t too sure about reading it too them, soda was seemed as if he was going to let the conversation drop. he was going to let pony keep hiding so to speak. but darry wasn’t. well he might’ve if only to keep the peace, but darry asking to read the story himself shows that he’s willing to think things through rather than instantly being worried/shouting at ponyboy in the future. it shoes that he’s trying to put himself in ponyboy’s shoes to he can figure out where his head is at (something that darry previously made fun of)

[seeingivy]

i hate it here

phd student eren x f!reader

**part of my canary mate fic

previous part linked here

--

eren’s doorbell rings an hour early. 

haunting, considering the fact that gabi could barely bring herself to be on time in the first place. he noted that it was a particularly plucky habit of hers – one that took him infinitely long to get used to – but one that he found a very creative solution for. 

he thought it was a little bit dramatic at first, asking her to come pick him up from his apartment at six in the morning. it felt a little less dramatic when she still showed up at seven fifteen, just in time to drive the two of them to the hospital. 

when he swings open the door, it makes complete sense. it’s not gabi at all, which he probably should have been able to guess.

hell would have to freeze over before she made it anywhere on time.

“falco.” eren states. 

“good morning, eren! i brought you a coffee.” 

falco should have no reason to know where he lives, and maybe more keenly, no reason to be at the place that he lives. he notes that despite the absence, gabi’s beaten down honda civic is still half parked in the driveway – and if her tints weren’t so dark – he figured he’d be able to see her half asleep in the front seat too. 

the odd thing about falco was that he always seemed to be unwaveringly nervous whenever eren interacted with him. though he imagined that falco must feel like that most of the time, since he seems to be so overly attached to his tethers that it must have felt debilitating to feel alone.

eren figured it was why he was more antsy than usual. falco was far too attached to the comfort that you and gabi seemed to always provide him.  

“i didn’t realize you knew where i lived.” eren states. 

“gabi told me. she drove me here, she’s just in the car.” 

eren narrows his eyes. 

“let me rephrase. i didn’t realize you would invite yourself to where i live. at six in the morning.”

falco gives him an awkward laugh, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck, as eren sighs and gestures for him to walk inside. falco seems relieved in the slightest – his mannerisms irritatingly all too familiar – as he tries to wave at gabi from the car. 

“is she coming?” eren asks. 

“uh…yeah. she’ll… just..just give her a second.”  

eren pauses. 

“she’s just going to sit out there. alone?” 

“yes. she’s…having a weird day. and she’s on the phone.” 

eren shrugs. when is she not having a weird day? 

falco follows behind him, almost dragging his feet across the hardwood floors, before settling into one of the spare chairs at his kitchen table. 

“i wanted to talk to you about something.” falco states. 

“well, i gathered you weren’t coming here for breakfast.” eren jests. 

falco gives him an awkward smile, rubbing the palms of his hands against the length of his thighs, before he – what eren assumes – musters the courage to talk again. 

“i apologize for coming without any notice. i actually hadn’t planned on coming at all, but gabi kind of masterminded this whole plan so i could talk to you. you know how she is.” 

eren fights the urge to smile. 

“all too well. what is it?” 

“i wanted to talk to you again. about my brother.” 

eren sighs. he hated shooting people down like this.

“i already said what i did before. i would love to help you but…” 

“i brought his updated scans. and i cross checked all the materials that y/n gave me, he…he does qualify to participate.” 

eren notes that you had to be in on this plan to corner him. that it probably gave him zero points with you that he hadn't agreed on the first ask.

“i know that he does. my concern is a conflict of interest. i don’t want you to get your hopes up that your brother is going to walk again or not be as tired if he participates in my study, or something.” 

falco pinches his lips in a line. 

“he can walk. and he…he doesn’t get tired, he just doesn’t remember who i am.” 

eren pauses. 

“what?” 

“he got into a car accident almost a month ago. he was fine but they did some surgery since he hit his head. i don’t know if it happened before or after but he doesn’t remember anything from before. he can make new memories, he just…can’t remember the old ones. there’s nothing that they can really do for him.” 

falco places a manilla folder on the table, filled with sets of translucent scans, that eren’s keen to look at – for curiosity sake. 

there was no way that he could accept falco’s brother as a participant. not when falco was so deeply involved, which meant that gabi was too. by proxy, he was sure that some protective instinct would kick into your hard drive as well if you were as involved as he thought – which meant that any mistake that he made would be credited to him and him alone. 

and he would get caught in the crossfire from three directions. 

“it’s the one region that you have missing. and he’s one of the younger ones in the participant pool so it could give you more data regarding age and effects of the treatment.” 

eren squints his eyes. 

“how many times did gabi make you rehearse that one? 

“twice. i also wrote it down on my hand in case i forgot.” falco responds, lifting his hand to reveal the black ink on his palm. 

eren smiles, flipping in between the scans to the detailed report at the end. 

“i’m sure she’s waiting in the car to give me a lecture.” eren states. 

“as backup. she has one more card up her sleeve.” falco states. 

“i’m sure this is a great use of her time. spending her paid work hours to find ways to coerce me.” eren states. 

falco smiles. 

“she’s just very passionate about the subject. she really wants to see a patient in the younger age pool.” 

eren laughs. 

“i’m sure that she is.” eren states. 

eren places the scans back down on the table, utterly intrigued and somewhat hopeful, but able to cross the mark. 

he couldn’t give false hope to someone that he knew or irreparably break an interest in research that eren personally had no affinity for. 

“falco, i would love to but…” 

“can i ask you a question?”

eren leans back, crossing his arms across his chest, before giving him a nod. 

“do you really believe in your hypothesis?” falco asks. 

“what?” 

“do you really think that stimulating the neurons enough can get them to kind of kickstart and start functioning again?” 

“in theory. there’s promising research behind it. i certainly didn’t come up with it out of nowhere.” eren responds. 

falco nods. 

“i know it seems like i’m talking this very lightly. just suggesting my brother participate because i know that he qualifies for the experiment and he just got injured but…but trust me.” 

falco pauses. 

“erwin has a lot of faith in you. gabi knows how much work you’ve put into this, how you…you love to work with patients and people. even y/n vouched for you. the only reason i want him to participate is because it’s your study. and i trust you too.” 

eren restrains himself for asking more about the gleaming recommendations that everyone seemed to give him. though, he was curious about some more than others. 

“i appreciate that. and that you think the study will work, it’s...” eren starts

“i’m just asking you to give him a chance. i would never think to blame you when you’re the one doing us a favor by letting him participate. and even if it doesn’t work, i would only be grateful to you. i know you can’t might not understand what it’s like to have someone not remember you but…” 

all eren can think about is sweet golden eyes going cold. that the main thing that made eye contact or looking into the eyes of someone he loved warm was that they were softening to him in recognition.

unbeknownst to falco, of course, eren knew the feeling all too well. it’s the only reason that, on impulse, he was inclined to say yes. the despeate look in falco's eyes.

eren imagined that he looked the same when he feels so helpless too. 

“okay. i’ll bring him in for all the screening questionnaires and preliminarily accept him for now. if i see any glaring red flags that bar him from participation, i will remove him for his own safety.” 

falco’s eyes light up. 

“really?” 

“you made a striking case. gabi’s played her cards well.” 

“oh thank god. and she didn’t even have to use her last one. i’m going to go get her.” 

eren sits puzzled as falco basically jumps out of his chair, screaming out the window of the kitchen into the quiet calm of the neighborhood. his hollering is reciprocated with three honks.

and it makes complete sense to him what gabi had intended to do when she wounds up at the door. with falco’s brother on the doorstep. 

eren takes the quiet second that falco’s ushering him in to berate her. 

“you were going to guilt trip me by watching his brother not remember him in front of my face?” eren whispers. 

“you’re a softie. i knew i wouldn’t have to do all that.” gabi responds. 

“then why did you bring him?” eren asks. 

gabi gives him a peachy, almost innocent smile. 

“insurance! which speaking of…i have another proposition to discuss with you.” gabi responds. 

--

right on the dot at eight am, there’s three consecutive knocks on your cubicle. 

you look up from your laptop to find eren, accompanied with a set of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his red-rimmed eyes staring at you. 

the glasses were an abnormal sight; from the amount of time you’ve spent glaring at him, you’ve noted that he almost always gives preference to his contacts. the frames never become less unsettling, but it’s only because they’re almost always accompanied with the red eyes. 

like a vampire. 

your split second pause at his appearance causes him to knock again, but this time he opts to push his head closer to you as he looks over at your laptop screen in efforts to see what’s causing the delay. you can feel the slight edge of panic – of the canary mate website tab open all the way on the right – as you slam your computer shut and glare at him. 

“can i help you, eren?” you ask. 

“i highly doubt that you would have any special skills that i would need to request.” eren states. 

you pinch your lips into a line. so sharp, even in the morning. 

“then why am i being graced with your presence so early in the morning?” you ask. 

eren rolls his eyes, scrunching his nose up in the slightest, as he pulls out his phone. 

eren doesn’t have the same problem that you do – as he took his due diligence of keeping his online pen pal a secret very seriously – which in his case, included muted notifications every time he set foot into the research lab. 

connie was nosy, jean was irritating, and you were always around. his efforts were merely precautionary measures to protect himself and his sweet secret exactly as it was – a secret. 

“it seems that my horrendous car luck has passed on to gabi.” he states, as slides onto the screenshot in his images. 

you snort. 

“you’re like a virus.” you state. 

eren glares. 

“if only it had passed on to you instead of her.” he responds. 

you roll your eyes, before swiveling over to face him properly. 

“can you get to the point? you have a really roundabout way of talking. it feels like you can never get to your point, eren.” 

it was a low blow. the exact criticism that eren had received from erwin earlier this morning at the lab meeting. 

“something that must have rubbed off on me from you, i’m sure. next thing i know, i’m going to start leaving spelling errors in my grant applications.” eren seethes. 

you seethe. eren always knew how to dish it back. you were convinced that he only listened during lab meeting to hear the criticism you received – just so he could throw it back in your face later. 

and find a way he did. 

“can you just get to the point, eren?” you ask. 

eren hands his phone over to you, the screenshot of four pinned locations on the map. 

“i have been made aware that you have a preference for carpooling in the morning with either falco or sasha.” 

“that’s correct.” 

“between our research team, only two of us possess vehicles now. we marked out all the locations and it seems that it is more time and cost effective if falco arranges his ride with gabi and i arrange my ride with you. i live two streets down from your apartment.” 

you give him a sly smile. 

“i thought you highly doubted that there were any special skills that i could provide to you.” 

“driving is hardly a special skill.” eren retorts. 

“it is when you don’t have a car. and need to rely on someone else to give you one.” you goad. 

eren sighs. you swivel back towards your computer, slowly opening up the computer and quickly shutting the tab all the way on the right and pulling up the maps. 

“i suppose i have to oblige. and while it is time and cost effective, there is a third, and more superior motive, for falco and gabi.” you respond. 

eren raises his eyebrows. 

“there is?” 

you scoff. 

“are you blind? they like each other. riding together means they get more alone time.” 

eren rolls his eyes, as leans properly into your cubicle this time, hunching over the back of your chair to be level with your line of sight. you note that his cheek is inches away from brushing yours – that the smell of his cologne is very strong – as he offers the address to his apartment. 

“that’s hardly a superior motive. cost and time are more important than something as frivolous as that.” 

“it’s not frivolous to them. though, i understand it can be hard to relate to when you don’t understand the feeling.” 

eren scoffs. 

“and you do?” 

no you don’t. at least not right now. at least not in a way that people understood anyways. 

“i might.” 

“no you don’t. connie talks, far too often. if you had a partner, we’d all be aware of it. and knowing you, he’d be just as irritating as the blonde that sasha brings around.” 

you quickly type in the address that eren provided, as you note the route from your street to his. 

“niccolo isn’t irritating.” 

sometimes he was. 

“is he not the reason you spilled coffee all over yourself two weeks ago?” eren asks. 

“no. he wasn’t.” you state. 

according to sasha and niccolo, he was. 

“irritating is the wrong word for it. he’s an…acquired taste. i don’t wish ill towards him at all, it’s just that his demeanor can be a little much as time. as is sasha’s.” eren starts. 

you seethe. did he really think you wouldn’t report back to them with every word that he said? 

“they’re just –” 

“i doubt the sincerity of their enthusiasm all the time. can someone really be so lively at all times? though in my case, that most definitely reflects more on me as a person than it does on them.” 

you pause. you pause because you’d had that same exact thoughts – not once or twice, but almost on a daily basis. it’s just that it was coming out of eren’s mouth now.  

you pause because eren does, almost frozen at your side, inching towards brushing his cheek against yours, as he shoots up, standing straight behind you. eren clears his throat, entirely dismissing the comment that he just shared, as he sticks his hands in his pockets. 

“i can walk to your house so you can avoid the drive. i usually pick up coffee from play in the mornings so i can either compensate you for the gas through a latte or just cash.” 

you can’t help but snort. 

“are you offering to buy me coffee?” 

you squint your eyes at him. 

“were you dropped as a kid? you can’t just accept the offer as it is?” eren asks. 

there it was. he was back to normal. 

“i’ll take the latte. but i’ll drive you there. it’s supposed to rain. wouldn’t want you to look unprofessional.” 

eren glares. 

“that’s more time required together than necessary.” 

you roll your eyes. did he need to be so persistent in his hatred of you? 

“that’s more of a hazard for me than it is for you. because of your car virus. and your godawful personality, of course.” 

eren gives you a pinched smile. 

“i appreciate it, y/n. i’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

there’s barely even a hint of earnestness in his voice. 

the message pops up almost the second he leaves. 

[busstopbilly]: I hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: so you’ll go to secret gardens in my mind? 

[busstopbilly]: That was a statement. Not a quote from The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: did your sister like the album :D 

[busstopbilly]: She prefers the standard edition. I like the Anthology. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: because you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy? 

[busstopbilly]: You could say that. 

[busstopbilly]: Except, I hate finance. 

[busstopbilly]: Not too keen on poetry. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: hilarious

[lizontopoftheworld]: but really. what is it? 

[busstopbilly]: My sister is visiting. It seems that I poured her micellar water (whatever that is) into my contacts case instead of the solution last night. It seems whatever it is, it has gone to my brain and caused me to overshare – particularly too much – with one of my peers. That and the fact that two of my peers showed up to my house at six in the morning with a proposition that I’ve hesitantly agreed upon, though I’m not sure if I did the right thing. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s definitely not water, by the way. It burned. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: OH EW 

[lizontopoftheworld]: GROSS

[lizontopoftheworld]: micellar water is like makeup remover. so it definitely had chemicals and stuff in it…

[lizontopoftheworld]: are you blind :O 

[busstopbilly]: Quite the contrary. I just wore my glasses instead, though my eyes are slightly pink still. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: glasses :O 

[busstopbilly]: ? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: I am slowly collecting an image of you in my mind based off of things that you have told me. green eyes and glasses (sometimes). that’s all i’m going on. 

[busstopbilly]: So close. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: and we all overshare. who gaf they probably won’t even remember. and i’m sure you made the right decision. 

[busstopbilly]: Oh trust me. She’ll remember what I said. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: wallflower…? 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :D 

[busstopbilly]: Shut up. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: remember when u had a crush on wallflower and stalked her entire life before she came to ur program 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lol 

[lizontopoftheworld]: heheheheheheheh

[lizontopoftheworld]: BRO RESPOND I SWEAR TO GOD 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t have a crush on her anymore. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yes yes i recall im just saying its FUNNY 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t see the humor. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i’m an acquired taste. 

[busstopbilly]: I’m well aware. 

[busstopbilly]: Just my type actually. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lame. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i basically set that one up 

[busstopbilly]: And you still liked it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: true 

[busstopbilly]: :)  

--

focus group is the best day of the week. 

the focus group is simple; you, eren, falco, and gabi interview all the participants every week and monitor their baseline levels and compare them as you continue through the treatment.  

it starts out that way, but mostly ventures into all four of you staying late to converse with the patients. it’s outside of the parameters, but something that almost everyone – the group of you included – turn your nose away from because it gives the patients something other to do than just sitting around alone when you leave. 

“do you have a boyfriend, gabi?” 

nanaba loved to get up close and personal. 

it was something that you noted the first day you met her, when she lingered around after the focus group to ask you why you seemed to look at eren with such disdain. a rather polite way of asking why the two of you were glaring daggers at each other, but more keenly, something she was clearly nosy about but ready to soothe away with the age old wisdom she seemed and wanted to impart in every sentence. 

“the real question is do you want a boyfriend? i’m sure that we could find one for you tomorrow.” 

shadis loved to get up close and personal too. a nicer way to describe meddling, but you knew that he was always well-meaning at heart. 

and at least he was more in touch with your suspicions about falco and gabi then eren was. 

“are you going to go get me one from the store?” gabi asks, earning her a smile from eren, who was glued to the wall and finishing checking off all the signatures from the paperwork. 

“why would i need to go to the store? i have a perfectly normal one for you right here.” shadis responds, pointing to falco who goes immediately pink in the face. 

“oh, now you’re just embarrassing him.” marco states. 

marco bodt was the youngest of the group and the final edition to this pool after falco’s brother. 

he was barely twenty-one and with irreparable damage to the right side of his body that impaired most of his motor functions. a similar mechanism to colt, marco was crushed under the metal of his car on the way to the grocery store – he may have survived but he was never the same after. 

and seemingly because of it, filled with an over-exerting amount of kindness. but you have a hunch that he was just always like that. the pacifist. 

you walk over to the end of the table to where colt is sitting, rather stifly against the back of his chair, with his hands folded directly on the table. the first three focus group he had been to were admittedly overwhelming, but it felt like he was having a hard time adjusting to the dynamics there. 

especially after he failed almost all the diagnostic tests that were done after the treatment. he was always more receptive at the start, but a quiet shell by the time you were all done. 

falco didn’t take it very well. 

“hi colt.” 

he gives you a halfhearted smile, his eyes still trained on falco and gabi arguing a few feet away from the two of you, the fight being mediated by eren and his plastic clipboard. 

“hi y/n.” he responds. 

“how was the session today?” 

colt sighs. 

“standard.” 

“you know, if you would prefer to do this one on one, i can always arrange for you and me to discuss what’s been going on at another time.” 

colt shakes his head. 

“that would worry falco. if i wanted to hide something from him.” 

despite not being able to remember him, it seemed to be the only thing that colt cared about. and one of the only reasons that you were convinced that he was still in there – that you could get him back if you tried hard enough.  

“well, we’re not worrying about falco. my main concern is you and what makes you comfortable, so if you prefer to answer questions about everything that’s been going on without him present, i can work something out.” 

you pause. 

“without him knowing.”  you add. 

colt gives you a halfhearted shrug, but you can tell that the idea is simmering behind his almost hazel eyes. 

“i can tell he gets upset when i don’t get the questions right. i try harder than i should to remember but i’m unsure if that messes up things on your ends if i…i feel this pressure when i’m doing all your tests.” 

you look across the room, locking eyes with eren who seems to already be watching, as you gesture for him to join you. and he obliges, quick and quiet as falco and gabi are still being harassed by the lot of them, and crouches down. 

“i want to remember my brother. probably even more than him because every interaction i have makes me feel like everyone has something over me, but i just…i just can’t.” 

eren gives you a questioning look. 

“everything okay?” eren asks. 

“i was just discussing with colt here that maybe we could ask his screening questions in private. sans falco and gabi maybe.” you murmur. 

“i see. anything that makes you comfortable, colt.” eren offers. 

eren’s swift with it, leaning against the chair between the two of you, and with a surprisingly soft smile. 

“i want you to do this to the best of your ability. eren and i just want to do this in a way that makes you feel comfortable.” you offer. 

eren seems to give you a nudging look, green eyes beaming into yours, as he catches the hint. 

“every time it doesn’t work, it gives me a better idea of where to try next. i’ll get the right spot eventually and while it feels like the work is exhaustive right now, it’s narrowing down what’s going to work for you. please know that everything that you do, even the mistakes, tell me and y/n a lot about where we can move forward with this.” 

colt sighs, almost like he’s taking a thoughtful second to consider it over.

“i just hate disappointing him. he wouldn’t know…if i wanted to do it with just the two of you?” colt asks. 

“not a word.” you affirm. 

“don’t tell gabi either. they’re basically attached at the hip – i doubt she would be able to keep it in with the big crush she has on him.” colt jokes. 

you smile, reaching to elbow eren in the side. he rolls his eyes, giving you a steely glare, as you turn back to colt. 

“eren doesn’t see it. i have now proven him wrong by the majority.” 

“about falco and gabi? oh, it’s obvious. he’s like bright pink every time they talk to each other.” colt jokes. 

you turn to eren and smile. 

“eren’s just painfully oblivious.” you state. 

eren gives you a snide smile before glaring at you in full. you swear that he’s fighting the urge to smile when you laugh at him. 

“something the two of you have in common.” colt responds. 

you give colt a confused look, which finally breaks eren’s silence and makes him laugh, as he gestures for the two of you to join him back at the main group. eren can tell that gabi and falco are being teased enough, the two of them bright pink in the cheeks like colt mentioned, as he leans against gabi. 

“alright. we’re all done for the day.” eren states. 

“as if. we just started talking about this in seriousness. don’t be ridiculous, eren.” nanaba states. 

“don’t be a hard ass. you can stay for thirty more minutes.” shadis adds. 

eren gives them a smile. 

“while i would love to, i do fear the resident doctor will, for a better lack of terms, be a hard ass and make us leave.” 

they all groan. 

“not forester.” nanaba groans. 

floch forester was the resident physician on wednesdays. the only downside to focus group was making his acquaintance every week, checking through the charts under his jurisdiction and checking out with him at the end. 

it was hard to pick one thing about him that was irritating. he was exceedingly arrogant when he explained things to you and eren – always giving the impression that he believed the two of you were incompetent idiots who knew nothing about the topic at all. or just an irritating and agitating prick otherwise. 

“i heard him call y/n sweetheart last week.” colt mentions. 

there’s a resounding group of gasps as they all turn their heads to you, marco and nanaba’s eyes nearly boggling out of their heads as they basically gesture for you to confirm. 

“he was explaining the behavioral scales to me that we use in the grading. i told him there was no need and he responded by saying it’s not a problem sweetheart.” you offer. 

you shoot colt a glare, which he only responds to with a smile, as they all break out into their rather melodramatic responses. 

“we should have him fired, the prick why is he talking down to her like she didn’t have a job similar to this before?” shadis asked. 

“that’s inappropriate. you wouldn’t see him calling eren sweetheart. this is ridiculous.” nanaba adds. 

“if it makes you uncomfortable, i’m sure you could report it to someone, y/n.” marco offers. 

you laugh, waving your hands at them. 

“that would be unnecessary. i didn’t think much of it and i really don’t see him that often anyways.” 

eren turns to you and glares. 

“you see him every week. if he’s going to make weird comments, you don’t have to put up with it.” 

“i’d rather avoid the hassle.” you state. 

eren rolls his eyes, firmly crossing his arms over his chest. 

“it’s not a hassle. it’s borderline harassment. and with a guy like that, you have to nip things in the bud.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“it’s not that deep. every time i interact with him, someone is there with me. i’m a big girl and i can ignore it.” 

eren sighs. 

“you might be a big girl but you have to know you’re not the only girl he does that to. and if he’s not doing it to anyone else now, he definitely will later. you could just check him and put him in his place now. or better yet let me do it.” 

you shake your head. if there was one thing floch hated, it was eren telling him what to do. it would be better taste to nip that argument in the bud before it happened. 

“it’s fine, eren. if it escalates into something weird, i’ll tell you myself.” 

eren gives you a questioning look, almost like he doesn’t believe you, before eren turns back to the group of them. 

“i have a sneaking suspicion you won’t.” 

you give him a glare, before shaking him off and turning back to the group of them. eren seems to take the hint and follows your suit. 

“as always, y/n is a boring topic of conversation. i would love to go back to what we were discussing earlier. i was unaware of these predilections gabi and falco shared.” 

eren smiles, turning to where gabi is now giving him an irritated look while falco looks at you with pleading eyes. you shake your heads as shadis and nanaba return to talking about the beauties of love and relationships. eren waits for the conversation to get rowdy enough to the point where they’re arguing, which gives the two of you the time to slip away and turn in the documents to the front desk. 

“i can bring your stuff down if you want to bring the car around. i can also go get the car for you if you’re scared to walk in the dark.” eren offers. 

the kindness is strange. but you can tell it’s only transactional so he would have an excuse to fight with floch. 

“it’s barely sunset.” you state. 

eren shrugs. 

“there could be perverts in the parking lot.” 

the two of you note an unmistakable head of red hair walking down the hallway and internally groan. 

“i’d argue that they’re actually inside.” you murmur. 

you note that eren smiles as floch walks up to the two of you, his fists deep in his white coat as he gives you an almost synthetic smile. 

“jaeger. y/n. always a pleasure to see you. how are my patients?” floch asks. 

“requesting a new doctor. desperately.” eren states. 

you note that floch’s eye twitches, but still offers a fake peachy smile. 

“you have an interesting sense of humor, eren.” 

“i wasn’t joking.” eren deadpans. 

you can’t help but smile, as floch turns over to you. 

“and how are you, sweetheart?” 

“i’m fine.” 

eren signs, almost exasperatedly at your side, before talking. eren had an issue with keeping his thoughts to himself. but this was the first time that it worked in your favor. 

“it seems that we’ll be requesting a new doctor to work with too.” eren states. 

“and why is that?” 

“you’re borderline harassing my co-worker.” 

“harassing?” 

“she has a name. it’s y/n. it would be best practice for you to use it.” eren states. 

floch rolls his eyes, as he signs off on the paperwork at the top of the deck, that eren snatches from him just as fast. 

“she’s never corrected me.” floch states. 

“because i doubt you let her get a word in. she introduced herself to you as y/n. you should refer to her as such.” 

floch puts his hands up, almost jokingly like he’s guilty, and you can’t help but sneer at him. 

“sue me. i’m sorry, y/n. i will refrain. unless things ever change between us, of course.” 

you turn to eren, giving him a disgusted look, as he gestures for you to leave. you take the hint as such, hopping down the stairs and leaving the two of them to it as you rush towards the car. and two flights down, you feel the familiar buzz in your pocket. 

[busstopbilly]: I still hate it here. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: boo 

[lizontopoftheworld]: same lowk. everyday i become a bigger misandrist 

[busstopbilly]: Tell me about it. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: random tangent

[lizontopoftheworld]: how is your mom 

[busstopbilly]: The other day she was having a difficult time. Called me by my dad’s name.

[lizontopoftheworld]: ….

[lizontopoftheworld]: ouch

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. It is what it is. There’s some good days where she tries to tell me storeis she’s never told me before. It’s weird to think that they won’t be there at some point. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah i’ve been thinking about that a lot. if it’s better if it goes all at once or if you…have to watch them go away

[lizontopoftheworld]: what do you think? 

[busstopbilly]: Biased, but watch them go away. It’s hard to have a good day sometimes and a bad day the next. My sister actually came to stay with me since she was having a rough time kind of dealing with the up and down. Emotionally. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: :( 

[lizontopoftheworld]: it’s hard when you’re a teenager

[lizontopoftheworld]: is your moms condition genetic? 

[busstopbilly]: Yeah. 

[busstopbilly]: It’s scary to think about sometimes. 

[busstopbilly]: I don’t want to forget you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: lucky for us, every interaction we’ve ever had has been perfectly preserved. i’d read them all to you until you remembered. 

[busstopbilly]: You stole that from the Notebook. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: the thought still counts >:( 

[busstopbilly]: I can make an exception. Everything counts with you. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: i really hope you don’t forget me either. 

[busstopbilly]: Well, I imagine that it would be insanely hard to do that. You’re basically scored on my heart, you know? 

[lizonotopoftheworld]: you stole that from me before you 

[busstopbilly]: The thought still counts. 

[lizontopoftheworld]: yeah yeah i'll make an exception or whatever

[lizontopoftheworld]: i will note that your impeccable memory of all the cheesy movies i have made you watch is a great sign :) 

[busstopbilly]: Very hopeful but I’ll have to agree on this one.

you look up from your phone when you hear the crunching of gravel, accompanied by eren walking up to the car and greeting you with a wave. you shove your phone in the pocket and abandon the conversation. 

“any pervert encounters?” 

“just you.” you state. 

“I could say the same.” eren responds, as he walks around to the side door and crawls into your front seat.

--

next part linked here

an: this is setup. I also haven't written in forever so its bad. sorry.

taglist: @invisible-mori @multiplefandomthings @chericos @wheredidmycrowngo @chaoticpxnda @aizzon @stuffeddeer @butterfly-skinnylegend @najaemism @hellokitty-doll @constanciandrea @iblamesusy @jaegersdiary @f4irygard3n @misadear @fell-4-u @coyloves @sobbangchan @you-always-made-me-blush @th0tformikasa @yell0wdreams @itzmeme @elliesbabygirl @miniaturemartian @differentrunawayperson

[74thcookie]

Brainrot part two

Bear with me guys my brain is not silencing for some reason and I can’t draw this due to school. So I’m just going to write it so I can share it.

This one is related to the SMilk Brothers particularly the Sage. When I said in the last post he’s part maybe similar to the CondensedMilkAU..yes probably.

-start-

In the beginning Sage and Fount work in the same school. Fount was loved and admired by all, Sage cannot deny that nor he is against the idea because he too admire his brother’s wits and intelligence but also his grace.

For years they raise the university they work in into what it is today which is a very well respected university with the goal of knowledge and finding one’s true self in life.

As the demands of the schools need increase so does the workload of the brothers. Fount was excellent as expected, all jobs were finished in one swop till one day an unexpected event happened. That event left Fount brutally wounded while saving a student.

The families of the students were outrage such an event happened and the school with all its title and glory failed to prevent such matters.

The fount manage to fix the issues with both the parents and the school staff which amazes the people and gain their respects once again but due to his wounds he cannot continue his role as the principle hence he needs to resign. People especially students were sadden by his resignation and no ceremony was able to be held since the moment it was announced he retired. Rumors says the principle vanish without a trace, no one knows where he went not if he is still in the country.

Sage was left and questions are given to him about the Founts whereabouts but all the Sage could answer is silence. Making the people think the fount had died from his wounds and mourns for him.

The Sage then continue to take care of the school but a bit more stricter due to the event. Though the goal of knowledge is still there and the value of truth is still recognized, the Sage put those two missions of the school to the absolute extreme without him realizing his adjustments for safety is such a restraint in the students freedom and their mental state.

Nurse Recluse and the Counselor Vanilla were the ones who made the school breathable for the students to study in. Word of mouth spread, opinions are shifted and the environment changed a lot as the years passed since Founts resignation.

Rumors says that the Sage has gone insane due to the loss of his brother hence his strictness. Doesn’t help he has a demon of a little brother but it’s not an excuse for him to be a terror teacher. The Nurses disapproval and distaste for the Sage gave the campus a signal of validation of that rumor being real.

The Sage caught wind of the rumors but don’t mind it because it’s not true. The Fount is still alive but his wishes of living in peace is now being respected. Nurse Recluses distaste/distain for him isn’t without it’s reason since he is the brother of the one who bullied him back then, bias are bound to happened even if they never interacted but the opinions of his teachings was the one to hurt him. He didn’t mean to make the student feel so pressured and yet it’s not easy to change the curriculum or its plans that fast. Time isn’t with them to redo the whole thing.

As the school year ends. The faculty had a meeting in where they reprimanded the Sage for being a stain on the school reputation and his brother’s legacy. The Sage can only do is agree to all, he knows all their words are facts. He loves his students and teaching, he will do anything for them but his only one guy, and is already burnt out. The counselor in the meeting advise the Sage to have a break since he knows his been working one stop for years. The Sage was appose to this idea since he doesn’t have hobbies outside of teaching. The counselor remembers when they were kids he would show them the arts and how it heals their souls, maybe finding a hobby related to the arts can be a start.

The Sage happy to see the counselor still remembers his teachings which he ironically forgot. He accepts the break and off he goes.

During his break everything slowly dawn on him on how tired he became, he cried to his brothers on what he became and other irrational words come out in which his brothers told him it’s alright. They know his out of his senses and his brain finally got time to breathe. The youngest of the brothers drags his brother to binge watch videos with his since he knows if they watch a movie he’d go straight to critiquing the whole script. Videos like reactions and vlogging is something Sage can’t critique since it’s a live reaction and cannot be controlled or scripted, though when the youngest introduce the world of Vtubing, all hell breaks lose. The Sage never seen such tech before, motion tracking?, live-streaming using such features, model illustrations and so much. He has to study it. The youngest feeds on to the Sages hyperfixation and tells him that most people do this for escapism from IRL things and get to social with people under a new identity.

A new identity he says?, the idea of it intrigues the Sage. It’s like playing as an actor from a stage, a secret identity where he can act as someone else outside of the people’s gaze. His already well-known and now he wonders if his natural charisma can gather the same audience but somehow he wants to use this new persona as a form of comfort for those students who suffered in the hands of teachers like him. He knows if he apologizes to the students with his current reputation right now, it will feel dishonest.

Hence he made the persona of Mama Berry.

He made sure the model to craft the perfect woman. One who sounds and looks pleasant but also something he knows he can cosplay as if he accidentally got his camera on showing his actual face. The perfect disguised.

Though he hates lying, using his disguise made him feel free.

Time flies so fast. He return to work and his demeanor still as strict but fun as ever. Students and staff do miss him and welcome him back, though there is still some people who ain’t but he doesn’t mind because those same people are enjoying his little persona he created.

-end-

Welp that’s all my brainrot.

[princesskaulitz]

Hi, so here's my prompt for 2010 tom x reader, Tom and reader are both in rival bands, maybe the reader is in a band like maneskin, and they both talk shit about each other in interviews but, in reality they are secrectly dating, so onetime they aren't careful and Bill catches them. I know it's a little long, I'm sorry <3

Stage Fights & Late Night Bites

✮ tom kaulitz fic

✮ 2010 era, fem! reader, use of strong language, sexual content (no real smut, just allusions to sex if that’s what you’d call it idek 😭) i also tried to make this sorta humorous. this also isn’t proofread.

✮ A/N omg @hunnybunny05 you literally sent me this request back in november and it’s taken me this long to get it up and i’m SO sorry 😭 when i tell yall that my family life has been so wild and stressful and there was a point i couldn’t sleep till 6am bc of this particular family member who isn’t well mentally and needs to be monitored- it’s been rough and things have been chill for a moment bc they’ve been away getting help and ive been trying to relax but i have a feeling things could get stressful again since they’re coming back so i wanted to get this up while i can 🖤

“I mean, if y/n spent half as much time practicing as she does running her mouth, maybe she’d actually be a decent guitarist.”

Tom said as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking at the interviewer like he hadn’t just started another wildfire. The camera light blinked red, recording every second, every word that would inevitably be dissected, clipped, and plastered across music blogs within the hour. Somewhere, he knew you were watching—rolling your eyes, scoffing, maybe even flipping him off through the screen.

And later, when the cameras were off and the world wasn’t watching, you’d have your own way of getting revenge.

But for now, the game continued.

Somewhere across the city, in a dimly lit dressing room littered with guitar picks and half-empty energy drink cans, you scoffed at the screen. Truth be told, you were always iconic and unbothered.

“Oh, he wants to talk shit? Cute.” You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, watching Tom’s smirk like it was a challenge. The interviewer laughed, egging him on, and you could already hear the fans blowing up the comments. Beef’s still going strong. They HATE each other omg. God, just kiss already.

If only they knew.

Your bandmate snorted from the couch. “That dude’s got a ridiculous ego.”

You smirked, hiding the way your fingers itched to grab your phone. You and Tom had a routine—trash talk in interviews, throw a few not-so-subtle digs in social media captions, maybe even stare each other down at award shows. The rivalry was the perfect cover. No one suspected the stolen glances, the rushed hotel meetups, the nights where words were replaced with hands tangled in hair and whispered promises.

And yet, you were getting reckless.

Your phone vibrated in your lap. A message.

Tom: You’re cute when you’re mad.

Your stomach flipped. You should ignore it. Instead, your fingers moved on their own.

You: I’m going to make you look so ridiculous at my next interview tonight.

And that was the problem with this game. Sooner or later, someone was bound to catch on.

“You guys arguing have us trending like everywhere.” Bill says, scrolling through his phone as the guys are in the car back to their hotel. Bill loved that the beef fueled engagement, interviews, and fan speculation, making both groups more relevant. If people found out it was fake, it could kill the hype and make them look like frauds.

But it’s deeper than just PR. Bill himself would often take shots at your band on Tom’s behalf. To him, you were just being a pure bitch to his beloved, older twin brother and he despised you for it. Tom told him everything—or so he thought. If he found out that his his twin was sneaking around with the “enemy” while letting him play into a rivalry that wasn’t even real, he’d be pissed and even feel betrayed.

Tom doesn’t respond, Bill notices he’s engrossed in texting someone- you. You two were talking about how you’ll both be in the same location tomorrow for your tours, even staying at the same hotel, planning on meeting up in secret like you always did when you two wound up in the same location for a few days.

“Who’s that?” Bill asks, always having to know Tom’s business.

“Just staff.” Tom lies, turning his phone off and stuffing it back into his pocket.

At first, it was fun. The secrecy, the sneaking around—it added to the thrill.

Then, it became a mess he didn’t know how to undo. If you suddenly stopped trashing each other, people would notice. He ESPECIALLY didn’t want his bandmates to find out—they might see it as a betrayal, especially if your bandmates would too.

And deep down, maybe he’s afraid it won’t last. If things end badly, it’s easier to go back to being “rivals” than to admit he risked everything for nothing.

That night, the band mates were will chilling, smoking, having some drinks in Georg’s hotel room. After many laughs, bringing up of embarrassing memories, and play fighting one another, they got engrossed in their own things, tom is scrolling through his phone, bill is half asleep, listening to music, Gustav is fully asleep, snoring his ass off.

Georg is scrolling on social media on his laptop, he comes across a clip of you at your interview from a couple hours ago that was live-streamed, you and your band surrounded by fans and a main interviewer.

“Oh shit.” Georg chuckles as he watches the video.

“What?” Tom asks. Bill opens his eyes and looks over as well.

Georg just unplugs his headphones and turns his laptop to Tom, playing the video for him.

“So what do you really think of tom kaulitz?” A fan asks you, the main interviewer holding the mic for them.

“Well truth be told, I try not to but he can’t do a single damn interview without mentioning me… but hey if you need to piggyback off my name to get some recognition, I’ll be supportive and help a band who needs a little help back up.”

The moment the words left your mouth, the entire room erupted. A loud, collective “OHHHHHH!” rippled through the crowd, followed by bursts of laughter and dramatic gasps.

Bill scoffs, reaching over and shutting the laptop “nervige Schlampe.” (Means “annoying bitch”) He murmurs under his breath before leaning back and closing his eyes again.

Meanwhile Tom suppresses a smirk. “She’s so fucking annoying. I wish someone would slap her.” Tom lies through his teeth, sitting back.

“She’s witty, I’ll give her that.” Georg chuckles again, gathering his laptop and things. “I’m going to head to bed and you all should too. We have a huge show to rehearse tomorrow.” He advises.

Gustav snores loudly, not waking up. Tom throws a pillow at him, startling him awake. “Bed time.” Tom says. With that, Gustav also gathers his things and they all go to their hotel rooms.

Tom laid in bed, not without texting you first of course, enjoying the typical banter between you both…

Tom: You’re annoying. Do you know that?

Y/N: it wasn’t that bad. I was just being supportive.

Tom: Supportive? You just made me look like an idiot on live.

Y/N: I was just stating the facts. I mean, you can’t do an interview without bringing me up. It’s cute tbh.

Tom: it’s cute? You called me a publicity stunt.

Y/N: Nah, I said I’d help a band that needs a little boost. That’s called being supportive. You’re welcome.

Tom: Supportive? More like sabotage.

You do realize half my fanbase is probably thinking I can’t even speak for myself now, right?

Y/N: That’s your problem, not mine. 😘

He couldn’t help but smirk at how unbothered you are.

Y/N: we both know you love it when I tease you. Admit it.

Tom: I swear I’m going to strangle you one of these days.

Y/N: Oooh, is that a promise?

Tom: yes

Y/N: Nah, you love me too much.

Tom: I hate you

…but you’re still mine, so I guess I’ll let you live this time.

Y/N: I knew it.

The next day, all Tom could think about during rehearsal was you, when he’d get to see you again, the time literally couldn’t go by any slower and it was slowly killing him. He reminisced on the other times you two have met up, venting to one another, sharing your thoughts on just walking away from music all together when things get stressful and reassuring each other that it’s okay to feel that way sometimes. Surprisingly you understood him in a way that no one else did, he was able to talk to you about his feelings and struggles while actually feeling safe to be vulnerable, you made him feel validated and comfortable.

That night, the guys wanted to hang out, maybe go out on the town, get something to eat, shop— but he declined, knowing he had plans with you. He said something about how he was feeling low on his social battery which wasn’t out of the ordinary for Tom at times.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. You glanced down at the hotel key card in your hand, already feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and excitement.

You had a plan. You knew what you were walking into—no distractions, no outside chaos. Just you, Tom, and the privacy of his hotel room.

The hallway was quiet as you approached his door. You knocked softly, already smirking at the thought of what might happen behind closed doors. A few seconds passed, and the door swung open.

Tom stood in front of you, his eyes lighting up the second he saw you. That signature smirk, and that damned look he always had when he was trying not to be too obvious about wanting you—oh, yeah. He was ready for this.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” he said, voice low, teasing, but there was a spark in his gaze that wasn’t entirely playful.

You smiled, stepping into the room. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

He closed the door behind you, too distracted to lock it. “Yeah, you did. But I wasn’t sure if you’d actually go through with it considering the other times we’ve almost been seen sneaking around.”

You turned to face him, just inches away. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, eyes scanning your face as if he couldn’t quite believe you were there.

The tension between you both had been building for weeks. Every look, every word spoken in private felt like an invitation for something more—something you both were trying so hard to resist. But not tonight. Tonight was different.

He leaned in, his lips brushing yours lightly at first, testing the waters. You didn’t hesitate. Your hands found the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss.

Tom groaned softly into your mouth, the sound sending a wave of warmth through you. His lips were urgent now, pressing against yours with a mix of desperation and desire, as though he couldn’t hold back any longer.

When you pulled away, both of you breathless, his forehead rested against yours.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. “I think we both are.”

A smirk tugged at his mouth. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Too bad.” You kissed him again, this time with more intent, pulling him closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. Your fingers grazed down his chest, teasing the fabric of his shirt.

Tom’s hands roamed to your back, pressing you flush against him as he guided you backward toward the bed. You could feel the tension in his body, the desire barely contained.

“You sure about this?” he asked again, his breath hot against your lips, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“Definitely.” You kissed him once more, this time with purpose, letting the moment take over.

He didn’t need any more words. His hands slid to the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You pulled him back up to kiss him again, this time with more need than before.

It was clear now—this wasn’t just a casual meeting, this wasn’t just going to be late night deep talks like usual.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper against his lips. “Let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

Tom grinned, his hands already moving with intention. “Oh, it will be.”

And damn was he about to be proven right…

The other guys were back a little early, they hadn’t even left the parking lot yet as Bill realized he had left his wallet and couldn’t find it. He tore apart his own hotel room, and Georg’s since that’s where they’d been hanging out mostly.

Tom never locked his damn door.

You realized this way too late, tangled in his sheets, stripped down, his lips hot against your neck, his hips thrusting against yours with the kind of urgency that made you forget everything—your band, the rivalry, the fact that literally anyone could walk in.

And someone did.

“Tom, have you seen my—OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Bill’s voice snapped through the air like a whip.

Tom’s body practically levitated off of you, quickly covering himself. “BILL, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

You barely had time to grab the nearest thing to cover yourself—Tom’s stupidly oversized hoodie—before locking eyes with his wide-eyed, horrified twin. Bill stood frozen in the doorway, holding a half-full water bottle like it was his only lifeline.

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Bill demanded, gesturing wildly at the two of you. “ARE YOU—OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD.”

“Bill, get the fuck out!” Tom shouted, flinging a pillow at him.

Bill smacked it away, looking personally offended. “You—you two HATE each other!” His face scrunched like his entire worldview had just shattered. “Do you have ANY idea what this means?!”

“That you need to knock?!” you shot back, trying to adjust Tom’s hoodie while staying somewhat decent.

“That you two are FAKES!” Bill pointed at you both accusingly. “Oh my god, the interviews, the beef—My own brother has been lying to me?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY INTERVIEWS I’VE DONE TALKING SHIT ABOUT HER? DEFENDING YOU? I CALLED HER A MEDIOCRE CUNT LAST WEEK, TOM. ON. LIVE. TELEVISION!”

Tom, now gripping the blanket like his life depended on it, tried to salvage the situation. “Look, I was gonna tell you—”

“WHEN?! AFTER THE WEDDING?!” Bill shot back.

“What the—there’s no wedding!” Tom says, starting to get annoyed.

“WELL, CLEARLY, I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, SO WHO KNOWS?!” Bill says.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from wheezing.

Bill exhaled dramatically, putting a hand on his chest like he needed to steady himself. “I just—wow. Wow. So this whole rivalry was just some sick foreplay to you?”

Tom actually choked. “GET. OUT.”

With that, bill spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving behind only a shattered sense of trust and the distant sound of him muttering, “Unbelievable. Unreal. I need a fucking drink.”

Tom flopped onto the bed with a miserable groan.

You grinned, still wearing his hoodie. “I dunno. ‘Sick foreplay’ was a pretty good line.”

Tom grabbed a pillow and smothered his own face “Fucking hell.” He groans. “I think I just lost five years of my life.”

You snicker. “Well… at least he didn’t tell the entire hotel staff.”

Tom shoots you a look. “Give him time.”

You grin, shifting closer, fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Y’know…” You pause, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, feeling the way his breath hitches. “Now that the dramatics are over…”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “No.”

You blink innocently. “No, what?”

“I know that tone. That’s your ‘let’s do something reckless’ tone.” He says.

You hum, leaning in to press a slow, teasing kiss just below his jaw. “I was just thinking…” Another kiss, trailing lower. “It’d be a shame to let the night go to waste.”

Tom exhales sharply, his hands already sliding to your hips, but he still gives you a look. “After what just happened? You’re insane.”

You shrug, smirking. “Or maybe I just really, really want you.”

Tom groans, tilting his head back against the pillow. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“Is that a complaint?” You ask.

He flips you onto your back so fast you gasp. His smirk is dangerous now, fingers tightening on your waist. “Not at all.”

And just like that, the night is definitely not going to waste.

Later… Tom found Bill on the hotel balcony, staring out at the city with a half-empty beer in his hand. The neon lights reflected off the glass railing, painting him in blues and purples, but the dramatic sulking pose was all Bill.

Tom sighed, stepping out into the cool night air. “You gonna give me the silent treatment forever, or…?”

Bill took a slow sip, not looking at him. “Dunno. Maybe.”

Tom rolled his eyes, leaning against the railing next to him. “Come on.”

Silence.

Bill exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “I just don’t get it, Tom.” He finally turned to look at Tom, brows furrowed. “You told me everything. Every stupid crush, every hookup, every time you almost texted an ex at 2 a.m.—”

“Okay, first of all, that was like… twice.” Tom says

“—And then you go and have a whole-ass secret relationship behind my back?” Bill ignored him, gesturing vaguely. “With her? The one person we were supposed to hate?”

Tom sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Bill gave him a flat look. “Yeah, no shit.”

Tom huffed a laugh, but it faded quickly. “I didn’t plan on keeping it from you. It just… got out of hand.” He shrugged. “At first, it was just fun. Then it was more than that and we started talking about deep stuff, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Bill stayed quiet, fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle.

Tom nudged him lightly. “I never wanted to lie to you. But I knew you’d freak out.”

“I wouldn’t have freaked out.” Bill says.

Tom shot him a look. “You dramatically monologued when you walked in on us.”

Bill scoffed. “That was a reasonable reaction.”

“You asked if we were getting married.” Tom says.

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?! Clearly, I’m not included in these life decisions anymore!” Bill exclaims.

Tom groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Bill.”

Bill sighed, finally letting go of the grudge just a little. He glanced at Tom, a small smirk forming. “So… is it serious?”

Tom hesitated. The automatic answer was nah, it’s just a thing, but that wasn’t the truth anymore. He rubbed his jaw, looking out at the city. “…Yeah. I think it is.”

Bill was quiet for a beat, then groaned, tipping his head back. “Goddamn it. Now I have to pretend I like her.”

Tom laughed, nudging him again. “You’ll survive.”

Bill made a face but finally, finally, let his shoulders relax. He pointed at Tom. “Just so you know, I’m still holding this over your head.”

“Of course you are.” Tom responds.

“And I’m still mad I found out the way I did.” Bill continues.

“Noted.” Tom says.

Bill took another sip of his beer, then exhaled. “…But if she breaks your heart, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”

Tom smirked. “Deal.”

They clinked their beer bottles together, a silent truce, before Bill added, “Also, if you ever traumatize me like that again, I will be charging you for my therapy.”

Tom just laughed. “Fair.”

Tom joined you again later in the hotel room, you decided to just stay the night with him. You dressed in a nice, lacy, silk nightdress.

You exhaled, propping yourself up on your elbow. “So… what happens now?”

Tom blinked, turning his head to look at you. “You mean, after my twin recovers from emotional trauma?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up. “I mean us, idiot.”

His smirk faltered for just a second. “Oh.” You watched as he rubbed his jaw, a telltale sign that something was on his mind.

“You think this is a mistake?” you asked quietly.

Tom sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “No. I think you might be the only real thing I’ve got right now.”

That caught you off guard. You stayed silent, waiting for him to go on.

“But, I mean… look at us.” He gestured vaguely. “You’re touring. I’m touring. We’re never in the same place for more than a few days. We’ve spent months making people believe we can’t stand each other.” His voice softened. “How the hell do we make this work?”

You let that sit for a moment before shrugging. “We’ll figure it out.”

Tom let out a dry laugh. “That simple, huh?”

“Yeah.” You stood up and moved closer, resting your chin on his chest. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. But if this—” you gestured between the two of you “—means anything, we try.”

Tom glanced down at you, eyes searching. “And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we deal with it. But I’d rather crash and burn than pretend this doesn’t matter.”

His throat bobbed, his fingers brushing over your arm. “You really mean that?”

You nodded. “Do you?”

Tom sighed, then finally, finally, let the hesitation melt away. He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I do.”

A slow smile spread across your lips. “Then it’s settled.”

Tom smirked. “So what, we start a long-distance, secret relationship while still fake-hating each other in public?”

You laughed, pressing a teasing kiss to his lips. “Sounds like a challenge.”

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

And just like that, you both stopped worrying about the ‘what-ifs’ and just let it be.