#I don't get it? it doesn't help. it just makes you feel even worse if you don't manage to do everything

[mariasont]

A Simple Rinse Would've Sufficed - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is completely convinced hotch's first aid response is overboard

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf aaron hotchner, teeny tiny cut on readers hand, pre-relationship, reader being lil obsessed with hotch

wc: 0.9k

"This really isn't necessary," you murmur, but the words lack conviction, trailing off before they can land.

Hotch doesn't look up. Doesn't hesitate. Just finishes unscrewing the cap on the antiseptic like he didn't hear you—or more likely, he did, and didn't care for the argument.

It was just a scratch. Practically invisible. Nothing to fuss over. But apparently, Hotch is operating under some kind of every minor injury is a security threat policy.

Which felt especially ridiculous considering you'd just walked away from an arrest unscathed. You'd spent the last twenty-four hours proving yourself—running down leads, securing evidence, even keeping up with the rest of the team during the suspect pursuit. You were proud of that. 

And then you got back to the precinct, went to grab a file from one of those awful old metal drawers, and bam. A tiny, inconsequential scrape across your palm. You had survived actual violence, only to be bested by office furniture.

So now you were getting a full medical exam over something that wasn't even visible unless you really squinted.

You shift on the edge of the table, legs swinging, mostly because sitting still feels impossible under his touch. His hands are big—bigger than you realized until now. Strong, but you'd say also careful, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly against your skin as he holds you in place. The sensation sends an unsteady type of warmth curling up your spine, landing somewhere behind your ribs.

"It's barely even a cut," you say, attempting to sound exasperated instead of—whatever this was. "Like, I'm pretty sure I've had worse from opening candy wrappers."

That earns you a look, and you instantly shrink under it.

Not a harsh look, not even an annoyed one—just Hotch's look. That's explanation enough. The kind that makes you feel like you should probably quit while you're ahead, but also makes you realize you're probably not capable of quitting while you're ahead.

So, naturally, you keep talking.

"I mean, I really don't think this requires a whole medical response, sir," you add, the nervous energy bubbling under your skin making it impossible to shut up. You clamp down on the urge to chew your lip, shifting slightly under his attention.

The antiseptic meets your skin with a sharp little sting, and you suck in a breath, fingers twitching like you might actually yank your hand away from your boss.

Hotch doesn't even blink. Just presses a little firmer, holding your wrist steady like he already expected you to flinch. "Hold still."

And gods help you, but something about it turns your thoughts into white noise.

It's nothing. Objectively, logically—nothing. Just Hotch being careful, thorough, like he is with everything.

Except his hands are warm. Rough in a way that makes your breath feel a little short, moving over your skin with a level of care that shouldn't make you feel nearly as dizzy as it does.

You blink, zeroing in on the plain, standard-issue bandage he's peeling open—completely unremarkable, completely ordinary. Like forcing your brain to register on the most boring detail in the room will make you stop spiraling. 

"It's just funny," you blurt, because the silence is suffocating, and you're panicking a little.

Hotch gives you a look, not quite questioning but not dismissing either.

You clear your throat. "I mean, you do realize you've done more for this than most people would do for, like, a full-on stab wound, right?"

A pause. Just long enough for you to start regretting speaking at all.

And then—to your absolute horror—something shifts. A flicker of amusement. So quick, so barely there, you might've imagined it.

Oh no.

You'd almost prefer it if he just ignored you. If he shut you down with that infamous serious look he always wore. This, the possibility that you might've entertained him for even half of a second, was infinitely worse.

His thumb smooths over the bandaid, pressing it into place, and your body locks up.

Because he doesn’t move away.

For a second—maybe less, maybe nothing at all—his touch lingers, barely there but there, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin adhesive. He’s still holding your hand. His thumb still resting against you, light, thoughtless. Like he doesn’t even realize it.

You should move.

You should say something.

You should not be sitting here, waiting to see if he notices.

Then, as quickly as it happened, it’s over. Hotch lets go, caps the antiseptic, and steps back like it never happened.

"There," he says, so even, so unaffected, like none of this was anything. For him it probably wasn't. "You'll live."

You exhale a laugh—too thin, too breathless—like your brain is trying to reset itself, like you weren’t this close to total system failure. “Well, thank God. I was getting worried.”

He doesn’t react, doesn’t even glance up at you as he secures the first-aid kit back in place. “Check in with Prentiss before you go.”

You nod—too fast, too much—and push yourself off the table, legs feeling weirdly unsteady, like you’ve been sitting too long. That’s all this is. You just need to walk it off.

And then he's gone. You stare at your hand, fingers flexing experimentally. 

“You do realize that was entirely unnecessary.”

You jolt, turning so fast you almost trip over yourself. Reid is standing there, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he’s studying something under a microscope.

You blink. "I—what?"

Reid gestures toward your hand. “That wound wasn’t significant enough to require antiseptic or dressing. A simple rinse would have sufficed.”

You stare. Your brain is still buffering—half stuck-on Hotch, half trying to figure out how Reid manages to be the weirdest and most correct person in any given room.

"I—uh." You clear your throat. "Good to know."

Reid nods. "Just thought you might find that interesting."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

[book-lore]

Okay so I wasn't going to reply to this but I am still getting over being sick and this stuck to me. And for the record, it's okay that the OP feels this way and what I'm about to say doesn't mean they are wrong or bad or anything. Let's leave that person in peace. But as to why people don't like Valentine's day and some people even hate it, a gentle reminder:

There are a wide variety of reasons people can find certain holidays objectionable and one that tackles love specifically can be especially difficult for people who are struggling. A recent divorcee might wish to sit this day out because it can bring up how difficult being newly out of a relationship can be. This can be made even worse if the relationship was decades long and they aren't sure how to navigate the world of being single that looks nothing like when they were dating before. People who struggle socially who want relationships can find this to be a day that makes them feel a little more lonely. People who have lost a partner might feel their absence more acutely, even if that loss was years ago. People who have escaped abusive situations might have extremely mixed or hostile feelings about Valentines day (especially given how violent partners tend to become worse around holidays and this is extra true where the abused party is expected to behave a certain way). People who are in the closet might be feeling particularly confused or wounded right now as they feel worlds away from being able to accept or even find love.

The point of this isn't to drag the original poster, but it can be good to understand why sometimes hearts can be delightful for some and heavy for others. I know that some people can be well intentioned and say things like "think of the chocolate and candy" or "it's made up anyway" or "celebrate it with your friends instead", but those aren't really helpful. Love and its reminders can mean a lot of things to people and sometimes they bring up the bad emotions. Sometimes what people need isn't candy or hearts or even a pretend reason to see a friend. Sometimes they need to cry and a day that reminds them of loss or something they lack is what does it for them. Sometimes what they need is to know that they aren't the only one who feels like that when stores and displays and everything around them seems to point out what's making them feel sore.

It's okay to enjoy Valentine's Day. There are plenty of ways to do so if that's what you like. It's also okay to sit it out if you're sore or you're feeling a lot. It's alright if it's just another day in February.

dont understand people who "don't like" valentines day... I personally dgaf that its "made up" and "commercialist"... i love heart shaped things and i love everyone in my life. Its really simple

[captain-huggy-bear]

Just thinking about how clingy Jack is after a roadie. That man won’t let you do anything

Yeah, lets be real, Jack is a clingy baby. Olympic levels of clingy when he's finally back home. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Jack's always been clingy. This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that he cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy.

It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Jack’s eyes follow you wherever you go. But, it never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he’ll start physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't yapping away at you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Jack being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck.

It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg.

"Jack, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. Jack's so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.

"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws an encouraged smirk from him, one that you can feel widening against your skin.

"Jack..."

"Angelllll...."

"Jackkkkkk," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he'll waddle around the kitchen with you, waddle to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.

Even when you try to shower, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Luke will more than happily confirm that Jack has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.

“Jack, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at Jack's shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be move then he's not moving.

“Can’t I just shower with you?”

“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Jack only squeezes your waist tight. He's pouting up at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.

"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."

"No."

"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.

"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"

"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend who he loves dearly and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it.

"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts.

"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."

And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Jack and he's missed you.

[ckret2]

Chapter 84 of human Bill Cipher getting a day pass out of being the Mystery Shack's prisoner: so it turns out Bill and Pacifica have a lot in common! And it's not weird at all! It's—it's very normal. Their childhoods were so normal.

(Since this entire chapter is from the point of view of a character who doesn't know the person she's talking to is Bill, a PSA for those of y'all who missed it. Thanks.)

####

"Okay, that's as much as I can do to help your hair without deep conditioning it," Pacifica said. "Now let's talk about styling it."

They were back in Pacifica's office, with Goldie seated in his folding chair and Mabel sitting in Pacifica's desk chair (slowly spinning it back and forth) as Pacifica lectured them. Pacifica had given Goldie a spare t-shirt to dry his hair with (you could never have too much spare clothing on hand when you were dealing with farm animals), but he'd just loosely wrapped it around his hair and promptly ignored it.

Pacifica said, "You've got this issue where the weight of your curls pulls the top of your hair down and makes it flatten out near your scalp—but your hair's all the same length, so it really flares out near your shoulders. It's called triangle hair and it is not a cute look."

Goldie and Mabel bit their lips and exchanged a look, and Pacifica got the distinct impression that she'd accidentally reminded them about some inside joke she wasn't part of.

Trying to ignore the feeling that she was being left out of something, Pacifica cleared her throat and went on. "So, uh—you can fix it with like, layering your haircut and stuff? But. I don't actually... know how to do that." All her knowledge of curly hair and its care—much less fashionable haircuts—came from fashion and beauty magazines, which covered things like shampoo and flattering styles but assumed you'd leave the actual hair-cutting to the professionals. "So. I can get your curls presentable, and I guess we can figure out a way to pin it that looks nice? But that's the best I can do without an emergency salon trip."

"You sure we can't leave the triangle hair?" Goldie asked innocently. "I think it's cute. It really feels like me." Mabel clapped a hand over her mouth and snorted.

Pacifica raised her brows. "Do you want to feel like you, or do you want to get the guy?"

"Right, of course," Goldie said. "I almost forgot what's really important!"

Pacifica passed Goldie her phone. "Here—I wasn't sure what kind of look you were going for so I saved a few pictures of curly hair styles, let me know if you like any of these." She searched through the collection of makeup on her desk for the bobby pins and hair ties she'd picked up earlier. "The trend this year is for slicked-back styles, braids, and buns—but your curls are so pretty, I'd hate to hide them." 

Mabel leaned halfway across the desk to try to see the pictures too; Goldie's held out the phone to meet her halfway as as he scrolled—and scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. He said, "Good job narrowing down the list to a modest two hundred pictures."

Pacifica said, "Excuse me for wanting you to have options."

Mabel pointed. "Awww, look at that one with all the little butterfly hair clips!"

"It's like butterflies are eating her brain."

"And they look adorable doing it."

"Too juvenile for me. It looks like something Prisma the fairy would wear," Goldie said. "You should wear it."

Mabel's eyes lit up. "You've got to help me make fifty butterfly hair clips."

"You got it." He closed out of Pacifica's pictures, opened up the browser, and awkwardly typed in a search. "Hey, Alpaca, look at this one."

That was the second time he'd called her that. "Do you actually know my name?"

"Rapunzel." He held up a picture of some seventies movie star with thick, feathery hair that fluffed out around her face like the wings of a panicked swan trying to take off. "Think you can pull this one off?"

Pacifica grimaced. "You'd look like my mom." Except even worse and more old fashioned. (She kept that part to herself.)

Flatly, he said, "Oh no, how will I ever convince a male that I'm a prize worth winning if I literally look like a trophy wife."

That would be just about the only part of Goldie that looked like a trophy wife. (She kept that part to herself too.) "And we'd have to give you bangs."

As she suspected, Goldie grimaced and flipped to another image. At least he knew bang weren't for him. "How 'bout this one?"

It looked like a solid helmet of hair, with the ends uniformly curled outward like the embarrassing forced-whimsical hairstyle of the minions of an insane chocolatier. "Ew. That's about the only thing that could make you look even worse than you already do."

"Pacifica," Mabel said sharply. "Be nice!"

"Sorry!" She'd kept so many parts to herself that she didn't have any spare room to keep that part. "I can't do it, anyway. It would need a flat iron and a curling iron, and I don't have either."

"Can't we get some?" Goldie asked. "Any drug store should have 'em, it's a fifteen minute walk to—"

"I don't use them," Pacifica said sharply.

Goldie's stare was like a heat lamp—or maybe that was just self-consciousness heating up Pacifica's face as he scrutinized her. But after several long seconds, Goldie's gaze turned off her face. She quietly sighed in relief.

"Okay," he said. "Then this one." He showed her another picture. It had curly shoulder-length bangs, which wasn't really in style but fine, but behind them was a bouffant shaped like a deflating basketball with a wilting palm tree sprouting out of it.

Pacifica cringed. It was, unfortunately, doable. A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, "Are you really into this look? Really?"

("I think it's pretty," Mabel muttered.)

"Oh, no way!" Goldie said. "Look at that mess! That's way too much effort for a 'do that looks like she did it drunk in the dark in under two minutes."

(Mabel looked at Goldie like he'd personally betrayed her.)

"But," he went on, "it's what our guy is into, and that's what matters here. Right?"

Pacifica studied the picture dubiously. "You're sure?"

"He went through puberty in the 70s! When his libido opened its eyes for the first time, this is what it imprinted on."

Pacifica bit her lip. Well. At least Goldie didn't think it looked good, but. "Can I at least improve it a little?"

"Oh, please!"

She picked up the comb again and grabbed a couple of bobby pins. "No promises, but I'll do what I can."

Pacifica talked a big game, but in truth, she knew a lot more about the theory of hairstyles than she did about actually styling hair. You don't have to film a blockbuster to be a film critic. So at that point, all she could do was experiment with Goldie's hair as she attempted to approximate the picture he'd shown her. She circled around him as she worked—putting in pins, taking them out, occasionally asking him his opinion.

But although Goldie had previously been a non-stop chatterer, the moment she'd started working on his hair, he'd fallen silent.

He only glanced in the hand mirror she'd given him when she prompted him, and then only to give one-word answers—usually "fine." His shoulders were as tense and his mouth as tight as Pacifica's had been the first time she had to wash alpaca poop off the bottom of a boot. And Pacifica had nearly vommed, so, that was pretty serious.

Why? It couldn't be pain. Pacifica had gotten all the knots out of his hair earlier—and even when she wasn't using the comb, it was like she couldn't even move a lock of his hair without him wincing. She kept wanting to apologize even though she was just doing what he wanted her to.

There was something going on here. It wasn't just how uncomfortable he was with being touched. There was also the way he did an awful job of washing his hair even though he knew how to perfectly well. And how he'd rather let Mabel brush his hair into a frizzy mess than comb it out himself. And beyond all that, the first thing Pacifica had ever learned about him was that he'd gotten his hair melted off and needed emergency help to grow it back. "You... really don't like your hair, do you?"

"I like it fine. It's gorgeous." He was speaking through gritted teeth, and he had his legs crossed with his feet under his thighs, palms up in lap, eyes fixed on the blanket Mabel had made, as though having a staring contest with the triangle creep would help him endure the torture without flinching. "I just—don't like messing with it."

"Which is fine," Mabel cut in. "Because I like brushing it!" She quickly amended herself: "Combing it. We've got like a symbiotic relationship going on."

"Yeah! Star girl's my personal stylist! She does my hair and makeup. I wouldn't deprive her of that honor!"

Pacifica nodded slowly. Right—all that, and he was defensive about not taking care of it.

Not embarrassed because he didn't take care of it, it dawned on her; embarrassed because he couldn't take care of it. She had a sense for those sorts of things—a middle school queen bee had to develop that sense—because that was what you targeted if you really wanted to humiliate someone: something that they couldn't help. That was it, wasn't it? He'd said he was apathetic about his body; he didn't care that his hair was messy. Because if he did care that it was messy, he would have done something about it. Unless he couldn't. Like, a mental block.

As she tried for the eighth time to gather the bulk of his hair into an updo that looked sorta fun and casual without looking stupid, she turned over everything she knew about him—about his hair, his apathy, his shame... the things he'd said to her the moment they met, before they even got started.

It wasn't a logical deduction so much as it was an instinct, and just looking at Goldie it seemed impossible; but still she said, hesitantly, "Your mom made you do pageants as a kid, didn't she?"

Mabel sat up a little straighter, confused; but Goldie turned around to stare at her, dumbfounded. "How— What—makes you think that?"

Oh please. He wasn't fooling anyone, it was all over his face. "You're so weird about your hair. It's obviously trauma from your mom."

Beneath his sunburn, Goldie's burned cheeks somehow managed to flush even darker. He gaped at her, wide-eyed and terrified, like she was a psychic who had just told him how his own parents had died. He croaked, "What?"

Pacifica burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh, you should see your face! Listen, you're clearly familiar with pageant life. And I saw so many curly girls getting their hair mauled by their moms half an hour before going on stage. I don't blame you for being weird about touching it! I had it easy—" she flipped her naturally straight hair, "—but even at that, I can't stand using a flat iron to this day."

Goldie relaxed, apparently reassured that Pacifica hadn't read his mind. He settled back in his seat. "Oh, I dunno, I find the smell of burning hair comforting! It reminds me of home!"

"Ha! Okay, yeah, you do get used to it after a while." She started attempt number nine to gather up his curls. "I wouldn't have guessed when you came in. You don't look like a... I mean... you know. No offense."

"Well, duh, you can't tell now." He gestured at himself, "I lost my good looks. What I wouldn't give to have my old body back..." He sighed wistfully.

Pacifica held back a snort. Oh yeah. More than anything else he'd said so far, that convinced her he really was a former pageant kid. In her experience, every single pageant mom trying to relive her own beauty queen glory days through her daughter said things exactly like that.

Mabel said, "Aww..." She stretched a hand out toward Goldie, couldn't reach him across Pacifica's enormous desk, and with a grunt heaved herself up to lay across the top—knocking over a couple of the cosmetic supplies Pacifica had set up in the process—so she could pat his shoulder. "There, there."

"Thanks."

She slid back into her seat. "Did you really do pageants? You didn't tell me that." A note of betrayal crept into her voice.

"I didn't tell her either—" he jabbed a thumb at Pacifica, "—but here we are!" (Pacifica shrugged unapologetically.) "I've got a lotta backstory you're still catching up on."

"Well, yeah, but—you said you just did..." She grasped for the right words, and settled on, "build-y stuff with pageants."

"I didn't say that," he said breezily. Mabel scowled at him; but shot a look at Pacifica, and just sat back without saying anything, arms crossed, her feet audibly kicking at the inside of the desk. 

He didn't seem as stressed about his hair while he was talking, Pacifica noticed. (Maybe that was why hairdressers were so chatty? Or maybe just because it was kind of weird to stick your hands in someone's hair for an hour in total silence.) She asked, "Which pageant systems did you compete in?"

"None you'd have heard about," Goldie said. "They weren't on this continent and it was like a trillion years ago." Before Pacifica could pry about which continent, he added, "Hey, fun fact! Didja know that the first beauty contest in Oregon was established here in Gravity Falls?"

"Pff, duh, of course I know that," Pacifica said. "It was established by the town founder, my great-great grandpa."

"Close, but no," he said gleefully. "It was established by the real town founder."

Pacifica grimaced. "Him? The crazy undead guy without pants? Ugh, no wonder we're the only pageant with a mandatory bird calls category."

"The first three competitions were actually won by birds! They only added a fashion category to balance out the birds' unfair advantage at birdsong. Quentin resigned from the judges' panel in protest."

"He should've taken the dumb birdsong requirement with him," Pacifica muttered. "They make the kids pageant do it too. I had to get a private tutor to learn how to whistle."

"That sounds fun, though," Mabel said. "I can do bird song! Grunkle Ford taught me some. Listen to this!" She let out an admittedly impressive moo.

"Not a bad cowl call," Goldie said. "You woulda killed it at the accompanying bird costume requirement."

Mabel gasped. "I can make feather wings. Hey, do you think I could compete?"

"Not unless you move to Oregon."

"Aww."

"We can still make wings, though," Goldie said.

Pacifica had never had to deal with the dumb bird costume requirement, thank goodness. That only started in the teen brackets. Which made her wonder—"How old were you when you quit? Pretty young, right? Like, no offense, but if you need teenagers to do your makeup..." If Goldie was living as a guy now, it'd make sense if he didn't wear makeup day-to-day; but if he'd stuck with pageants past like age ten, he would have at least learned how to do his own makeup.

"Ha! You're right. I started when I was young enough that my mom could dust glitter on my butt without getting weird looks! I quit around... equivalent to third or fourth grade in the States? She wanted me to keep going—so I said, 'You want me to perform? Fine then—I'll put on the best performance you've ever seen.' And that's exactly what I did!" Thoughtfully, he added, "But for some reason I didn't win the talent portion. I guess the judges weren't impressed that I could play the piano and set it on fire at the same time."

Pacifica cracked up. "Okay wow—I retired during the talent portion too, but how you did it is way more exciting. The year I was aging out of the 9-11 bracket, I kinda had a meltdown on stage over losing to some girl with a hula hoop? Yeah, I did not win supreme that year."

"You shoulda won talent just for that scream! You hit some impressively high notes." At Pacifica's odd look, Goldie said, "Saw it online."

Figured. That was probably coming back to haunt her in ten years. "It's weird. There's like... two ways pageant girls go—er, girls or guys or... whatever."

"Whatever," Goldie agreed.

"Yeah. Either they make it part of their identity? And keep up the makeup and fashion and everything, sometimes stick with pageants as teens or start modeling professionally? Which is what I did. Or they totally burn out, don't want anythingto do with the beauty industry, and just, like, wear sweats forever."

With a faint air of wounded pride, Goldie said, "It's the bedsheet sarong, isn't it."

"No offense! I'm just saying."

"I'll have you know it's laundry day and Jesús stole my clean clothes instead of my dirty laundry." (Pacifica decided to forgive him for the weird fish smell.) "You're looking at me at a low point, kid. I was actually a pretty snappy dresser up until... lllast summer."

Hearing Goldie call her kid gave Pacifica a little jolt of surprise. For a moment, she'd forgotten she was talking to somebody with an age; she'd started to feel like she was being visited by the immortal Spirit of Washed-Up Former Pageant Children. As if he'd died and stopped aging the same time he retired. "What happened last summer?"

Goldie looked at Mabel. "Yeah, what did happen last summer?"

"Um." Mabel froze. "He... lost it all in a... um... overseas parrot circus venture! Yeah—all the trained parrots escaped before the opening night of the circus and he lost all his money."

Goldie let out a shrill cackle. "I like that, I'm keeping that."

Okay, got it, it wasn't any of Pacifica's business. "I think... this is the best I can do with your hair." She stepped back. "Unless you want to pick a style that doesn't suck."

He gave himself a cursory glance in the hand mirror, immediately lowered it, and said, "Sucky style's fine!"

"Don't say that, you look so beautiful," Mabel said. "You look like a babysitter!"

"Well, it doesn't get much better than that." He dropped the mirror on the desk. "What's next?"

####

Next—finally—was the part they'd actually come here for: the makeup.

"Okay, I tried to get around the eyepatch while I was doing your hair, but you've got to take it off for this part," Pacifica said.

He groaned, but muttered, "Fine, I've put up with this tyranny so far," removed it, and looked at her with his previously-covered eye squinted against the light—which was the point at which Pacifica realized that he had eyepatch tan lines... around his other eye. How???

There was no fixing that before tomorrow. She bit her lips, shut her eyes, pressed her hands together, and took in a deep breath. Okay. She could handle this.

"Why do you even wear this?" She tossed the eyepatch to Mabel—it was one of those cheap costume pirate-y looking patches. "Is this one of the Mystery Shack's gimmicky touristy things? Both your eyes work! And wearing an eyepatch when you obviously don't need it is just tacky."

"I've got a neurological condition! Seeing through two eyes messes up my depth perception," Goldie said. "I get migraines if I don't keep one covered! Which is admittedly the most fun thing you can do to your brain without involving narcotics, but it makes it hard to keep down lunch!"

"Oh," Pacifica mumbled. Maybe she should just get to work before she shoved her foot any deeper in her mouth.

She started by slapping aloe vera on as much sunburned skin as she could reach, handed over the jar with strict instructions to apply more in the morning, and gave him an emphatic lecture on sunburns and sunscreen and skin damage that petered out when he cheerfully started telling her about skin cancer statistics. She changed the topic when he started listing his favorite kinds of skin cancer.

She stripped off the nail polish that Goldie had apparently gotten during one of Mabel's sleepovers, and repainted it with, at Pacifica's insistence, something more "mature." (She vetoed Mabel's suggestion to paint little hearts. She vetoed Goldie's request for gold. She gave him the choice between white French tips, pale pink, or solid red. He chose red.)

She hadn't anticipated that her customer would be in such dire straits that she'd need to shave him, so she didn't have any supplies for that; but she also ordered him to get his legs as smooth as the surface of a balloon as soon as he got home—"And do you think there's any chance this guy you're after will see your pits?" "He already has!" "Hm. Okay. Yeah, uh, get those anyway."—and informed him that she would report him to the police for vandalism if he "shaved" using whatever depilatory cream he'd previously used on his hair.

As she finished plucking his brows, she said, "Okay, I think you're finally in decent enough condition for actual makeup." She stepped back, took in his face, and said, "Barely." She grimaced. "I wish I'd bought a concealer with better coverage. I didn't know the situation was so bad."

To his credit, Goldie had taken her criticism (and occasional looks of horror) like a champ. He simply drawled, amused, "The body rituals of the Nacirema are as elaborate as they are bizarre."

She picked up a couple of the foundations she'd bought and held them up next to the eye that had been protected by the eyepatch tan line, trying to determine which one was a closer match for whatever his skin tone was when he wasn't burned. "Who're the Nacirema? One of the tribes that used to live around here?"

"They're still in the area. Look 'em up."

Pacifica thought the darker foundation was closer; she tested it on his inner arm to be sure. "So, how much makeup do you already know how to apply? Any?"

"I can do mascara, eyeliner, and mascara."

"Riiight. Okay, both of you pay attention to what I'm doing." She evicted Mabel from her desk chair and dragged it around in front of Goldie's folding chair. "Because I will not be coming over to do this tomorrow, so the two of you will have to repeat this yourself. Here." She handed Goldie a mirror so he could watch her work.

Mabel hopped up to sit on the desk next to Goldie. "You have one hundred percent of my attention!" She immediately looked away from Pacifica at the makeup brushes laid out on the desk, picked up a fan brush curiously, and started dragging it up and down her arm. "Ooh. Tickly." 

"Emphasize my eyes," Goldie said. "They're my best feature. You can forget about everything else, but my eyes have to look good."

Pacifica looked at his eyes. Pacifica really looked at his eyes.

There was something wrong with his eyes.

She decided to stop looking at his eyes. "Okaaay, great great great, you've got suuuper long lashes, that's fantastic. We can totally draw attention there. You don't even need fake lashes. And you've got nice big prominent eyes. Kinda bulgy, but that should be easy to hide with eyeshadow. I'm thinking maybe a smokey eye?"

"What about metallics? Like gold?" Goldie asked innocently. "Kind of a retro 'secret agent villainess' look, don't you think! It'd bring out the yellow in my eyes!"

Pacifica said, "You do not want to bring out your jaundice."

"Don't tell me what I want."

"No gold eyeshadow," Pacifica said. "Period. If you want to experiment with color, we can try a smoky eye in burgundy. Burgundy is hot this year."

Goldie muttered something about welcoming a bottle of burgundy right now, then said, "Fine! Burgundy."

(As Pacifica looked through her makeup palettes for the burgundy, Bill leaned over to Mabel and whispered, "Do we have any leftover gold eyeshadow?" Mabel nodded and winked. Bill winked back.)

"What about the rest of your face?"

"Skip it."

"I'm not letting you go bare-faced aside from your eyes," Pacifica said. "But we can do a natural makeup look."

"That's so boring," Mabel said. She was dragging the fan brush over her lips now. "If it looks natural why's he wearing any makeup at all?"

Goldie said, "Because humans are insane about the most uninteresting things."

As Pacifica worked her way through the foundation, concealer—she decided his sunburned skin had enough of a sun-kissed glow that she could skip bronzer—and contouring, she said, "You are... really good at holding still when you try." He'd gone completely still, like a statue. A statue that was making direct eye contact with her soul. She felt a bead of sweat slide down her neck. She wasn't sure he was breathing.

"He's super good," Mabel agreed. "It's kinda creepy."

"Thanks!" And just like that, he was smiling and alive again. "I do a lot of meditating! Gimme a focal point to watch and I can go like two billion years!"

"You didn't learn from...?"

"Pageants? Ha! No way, I was the wiggliest little demon you've ever seen. It drove my mom nuts when she was trying to do my lashes. She used to say 'If you love me, hold still' to keep me in place—but you know how contrary kids are when they're mad! Eventually I got fed up and said, 'Well then, maybe I don't love you!' And she didn't speak to me for three days." Goldie laughed. "Ahh, I had the most dramatic mom."

"Wow, my mom would kill me if I ever tried something like that—especially if it was in public where people could see us," Pacifica said. "She hired makeup artists so I'd struggle against them instead of her. Your mom did your makeup? Did she ever hire anyone?"

"Nooo way. We ran our operation on a razor-thin budget to maximize the profits from my winnings. The name of the game was efficiency!"

"My mom's sure wasn't," Pacifica said. "(Shut your right eye, I've got to get your eyeshadow.) We went through like, fifty makeup artists or something. Sometimes more than one while prepping for the same pageant." She lowered her voice a tad, "A couple times when the makeup artist was a creep, I messed up my own makeup just so Mom would fire them."

"Ha! Suckers. Yeah, that's probably how it woulda gone if my mom had handed me off to a makeup artist. I was not afraid to sic her on adults! We didn't have any hired help when I was that age, but the principal was terrified of her. And if another kid at a competition was getting on my nerves, I'd go crying to her that they pushed me and oh, man, she'd come down on their parents like the asteroid on Chicxulub."

"Me too! There was this girl in third grade who was so... I don't know, just—" she pulled a face, "eugh, you know? I complained to mom about her and got her family blacklisted by the whole town. They had to move out of the state just to get a job."

Goldie laughed loudly. "Now that is impressive!"

Pacifica's gut shifted uncomfortably. Was it? "Other eye now." She didn't speak for a moment as she tried to get both eyes matching. "Actually... it was... kinda scary?"

She'd asked her mom if she could puh-lease get this girl out of Pacifica's class. She'd just expected the girl to be switched to another teacher.

Instead, over the next few weeks, she heard about the girl's mother losing her job, then her father. Her older brother got kicked out of the local Future Lumberjacks of America chapter. One day the girl came to school in tears after being cut from the softball team. A couple months later, the girl's friends—the two that hadn't drifted away from her as her family became pariahs—threw her a tearful goodbye party during lunch with a mall-bought cookie cake; and the next day, she was gone forever.

After that first time Pacifica had complained about her classmate, her mom had never once mentioned the girl or her family. She never asked if Pacifica had any more trouble with her. Not even when they left town. It was as though, after her mom ground them under her heel, they were beneath her notice. Just four crushed ants.

But Goldie was staring at her, frowning in confusion, like she didn't make any sense. "What—scary for the other kid?" he asked. "Sure. It's supposed to be, isn't it?"

Pacifica didn't reply for a second. I'm afraid of how good she was at doing exactly what I asked her to do without realizing I was asking for it—that sounded stupid. Finally, she said, "Don't wrinkle your face like that, I haven't set your foundation yet. It'll make it cake up."

"Your moms sound insane," Mabel said. While they'd been swapping stories about their childhoods, she'd been staring at them, chin in one hand, chewing on the fan brush's bristles. "Were you guys tortured growing up?"

"Pfff, what? No, of course not!" Pacifica said. "My parents would never. You've only seen my mom's worst side, she's not really that bad. I mean—not to me. She's horrible to poor people, but that's different."

Goldie said, "Yeah, my mom was my biggest defender! If anyone tried to hold me back, she'd rip them a new one."

"But—forcing you to do pageants until you have a breakdown?" Mabel said, glancing between Goldie and Pacifica, mouth twisting up like the words tasted sour. "Guilting you into wearing makeup and attacking other parents and stuff? That's nuts."

"It's not like that," Pacifica said automatically, then tried to figure out what it was like.

"Now we're calling a kid's temper tantrum a breakdown? You've got a future career in propaganda, star girl," Goldie said wryly. "It's a mom's job to bring out a kid's potential, right? Sure, it drove me nuts at the time—but kids don't want their potential brought out, kids are lazy!" He shrugged, "Yeah, my parents weren't perfect—they didn't really 'get' me, they held me back from reaching my full potential because they couldn't see what it was—but I'd never have gotten on the road to unlocking my potential myself if they hadn't put me on the right path as a kid."

Pacifica nodded. "Totally! That's just normal mom stuff! My parents are exactly the same—they don't get my alpaca business at all—but there's no way I'd be running a business at thirteen if my mom hadn't pushed me to be the best I can be. Or supporting my alpacas through modeling if I hadn't learned how to present myself in the pageant system. Even mini-golf was just a hobby until my parents got me a coach and started taking me to competitions."

"And I wouldn't be the huge success I am today without those early lessons in public speaking!"

Mabel shot Goldie a meaningful look. He pointed at her. "Don't say a word. I've had a bad year, you can't judge me by that. Anyone could've lost their parrots in a freak accident."

"And some kids had it way worse," Pacifica said. "Some parents would hit their kids or scream at them for messing up their routines or getting distracted? Those girls never lasted long, you can tell if a contestant's just going through the motions because she's scared. I was never treated like that. My pageant coach taught my parents to use a 'warning bell,' when they rang it that was my warning to stop goofing off and focus on practicing or listen to them or whatever. They'd pay me in chocolate if I got back in line."

"Ha!" Goldie smacked the desk, "Oh wow, that's hilarious! Pageant coach Pavlov. My parents would have loved that when I was in the toddler competitions."

"Right?!" Pacifica laughed. "Now I'm like, wow, I used to be bribable with a piece of chocolate? Kids are sooo easy to manipulate."

"But hey, it's a good life lesson: the occasional reward and the fear of punishment is a lot more effective at keeping people in line than actual punishments."

Pacifica nodded thoughtfully. "Wow. That's so insightful."

"See?" Goldie beamed at Mabel. "Pageants teach kids all kinds of useful things! Ambition, poise, charisma, self-confidence, social skills..."

She grimaced. "Yeah, but... all the restrictions and pressure and trauma and stuff? That really sounds bad."

"I think you're just bitter that you can't enter the birdsong contest."

She kicked his arm. "I'm serious!"

He pushed back her shoe and waved her off dismissively. "It only sounds bad to you because you were never in the pageant world! It's got its own rituals and expectations, of course it looks weird to outsiders."

"And everyone judges pageants so much more harshly than other competitive sports—which is what pageants basically are," Pacifica said. "Like, pageants and competitive mini-golf took just as much practice, just as much coaching, just as much time and money—but in real life, knowing how to make myself look presentable and talk to adults has helped me way more often than knowing how to knock a ball into a hole. Mini-golf only saved my life once."

"Charisma will get you everywhere," Goldie agreed. "It's the most effective form of mind-control you can do without psychically rewiring someone's neurons."

"Basically! But getting a medal at the Sportlympics has everyone talk about how skilled and hard-working and dedicated you are, and getting a tiara in a national pageant gets people who have never even watched a pageant calling you a bimbo. Like, what?"

"Blatant double standards!" To Mabel, Goldie said, "Both your parents work in Silicon Valley. Their priority is intelligence and grades instead of looks and charisma, so that's why you and your brother get pushed in school—but it's all the same! Parents push their kids to be successful whatever way they know how."

Mabel stared into space. "Huh." She fell silent, gnawing on the fan brush's handle—pondering whether her parents worrying about her so-so grades was comparable to the pageant moms desperate for their daughters' straight hair to be straighter and curly hair to be curlier.

Smugly, Goldie went on, "If anything, the pageant circuit was more useful than school. I—"

"(Stop moving around, I've got to do your other eye.)"

Goldie obediently leaned forward and shut his other eye. "I went from pageants straight into public speaking. I had an entire career before I was out of school. Everyone loved me! I was a natural in the spotlight!"

"Really?" Pacifica said dubiously. She could buy that he might have been a competitor as a kid, but honestly, he seemed pretty creepy to her. Enough confidence could carry you pretty far, but...

He rolled his open eye. "Don't take that tone with me. It was before you were born! And like I said—I've lost my looks. I used to be..."

He trailed off, staring down at his nail polished hands like he didn't recognize them.

He muttered, "I used to be so much better than this."

Mabel reached out and rubbed his upper arm comfortingly.

Sometimes Pacifica caught her mom staring in a mirror, studying her face with an expression somewhere between nervous and depressed, gently touching her fingertips to the thin lines beginning to appear around her eyes and mouth as though she were examining gruesome wounds. Her mother had always said that looks are everything; and even though she didn't talk about her feelings directly, from the way she sometimes snapped at Pacifica to keep up her skincare—moisturizer, sunscreen, hydration, don't frown too hard—Pacifica thought maybe she wasn't worried about Pacifica's face so much as her own.

Goldie only had the faintest traces of the start of wrinkles, unnoticeable if Pacifica hadn't just spent the past few minutes plastering foundation on his face. She wondered how old he was. She wondered whether he had the same fear her mother did: that his body was letting him down, slowly dying all around him.

You don't go through the child pageant world without learning two things: everyone wants you to look and act older than you are; and the older you get, the less anyone wants you.

"I've got to do your lips," Pacifica said, picking out a couple of options: a red so bright it was nearly orange (totally in this year), a nice glossy nude that ought to be a close match to Goldie's natural lip color. "Did you want to stick with the natural look, or...?"

He glanced up from his hands at the offered lipsticks. "What the heck," he sighed. "Let's make it red."

Pacifica nodded. "Pooch your lips out for me, like this." And that was the last they spoke for a while.

####

(Here's your regular TBOB report: no actual plot was changed due to TBOB. I added in a few lines referencing it: the imagery of Priscilla grinding normal people beneath her heel is meant to be reminiscent of Pacifica's giant nightmare on TINAWDC; the "meditating" for specifically two billion years is a direct reference to the barber pole, although I'd already headcanoned that Bill can meditate/dissociate for absolutely vast quantities of time; I already had dialogue where he goes on the importance of charisma and how much everyone adored him as a kid, but I tossed in another sentence or two about charisma just because of how strongly he emphasizes it in TBOB; and originally I had dialogue where Bill went on about what big supporters his parents were, even though he privately feels like they didn't get him—all I changed was deciding to make him admit to some of those feelings out loud, since it's something he says outright in TBOB. I've imagined that he tends to swing between "they were the best/they were the worst" based on how he's feeling at the time with no neutral ground in between—whiiich lines up pretty well with what TBOB gave us.

And unrelated but I spent way too long researching makeup & hair trends in the 70s and in 2013. I had no idea orange lipstick was hot for a while. My idea of doing makeup is painting my nails once every six years.

Hope y'all enjoyed, and I'm looking forward to hearing y'all's thoughts! I've been eager to dive into this aspect of Bill's backstory and Pacifica's POV for a while.)

[haechanhues]

Felt Cute, Might Realise I Fucked Up Later

pairing : husband!wonwoo x gender-neutral!reader

genre : established relationship. very lighthearted angst. crack. wonwoo is clumsy (protecc)

warnings : wonwoo is a loser but we love the kind he is. a bit suggestive at one part but otherwise quite clean. not proofread nor edited. gender neutral but i apologise if there's anything referring gender or such.

summary : working man comes home to work on his relationship.

1:00pm / 13:00

On an early finish kind of work day Wonwoo is ecstatic

He comes home and he feels the sun beaming on him in a way he feels like he's heaven's favourite

He's all smiles

He checks all the rooms, calling your name excitedly, already making plans for what the two of you can do now that you're both free

Only

You're not there

There's no note - but why would there be?

But that's not what drags his smile into down to his chin

It's the plant

It's alive

Meaning : not dead

Meaning : too alive

That's when he knows he fucked up

5:00pm / 17:00

When he finishes work, he takes a deep breath

He stops by the flower shop

Picking out all the flowers that look pretty

Wonwoo cursing himself because he doesn't remember your favourite flowers

Wants to kick himself to the curb

(Even though you don't think you even have a favourite)

(Flowers are just pretty, that's all)

He asks for the meanings of the flowers because he's come to discover from a quick search on Google that even flowers have meanings

But it seems the pollen is making his allergies act up

He wasn't even aware there was allergies to be careful of

Has he seriously not gotten you flowers ever?

The florist withholds the comments she wants to make in order to tease him

But she appreciates that a man is making an effort in his relationship

He pays for them with his eyes a little bloodshot and discharge begging to come out

He takes a sniff

Hoping that the bouquet he got for you is the exception to the rule

But

At yet another sneeze he holds the flower bouquet away from his face

Shit

He's practically crying as he opens the door to your shared apartment, getting ahold of himself enough to surprise you with them with a massive smile on his face

The grin he receives is worth it

You take the bouquet, brushing your hand with his and he feels a little in love with you all over again

Twiddling fingers kind of love

Then he ruins it by sneezing

And sneezing

And sneezing until he needs a whole pile of tissues in every room and the poor bouquet in the balcony nobody uses instead of the kitchen where he intended

And when you make the decision to just throw them out, finding that it isn't worth it

You kiss him

But it feels like a mother kissing a sulking child when you do it

7:00pm / 19:00

At dinner he tries not to let the awkwardness get to him

He's really enjoying this meal you made

He also feels like he's falling for you all over again

A roast dinner is like a new haven for him

It's so fucking good

The only thing is he tried to help you

And he's really not good at it

He almost seasoned the vegetables with sugar instead of salt

He almost dropped the lamb when it came out of the oven

He made messy cuts all throughout the meat so badly it's not instagram worthy in the slightest

No angles

Absolutely none

He's unsure why you're keeping quiet

He saw the look of complete distaste and embarrassment on your face as he did all these things within the comforts of your own home

God forbid he do that in public

What if you never say yes to a date outside ever again?

That scratches out every plan he ever made in order for your forgiveness

He's not even sure what he did either

It's just

The plant is still alive

Too alive

11:00pm / 23:00

He's confident

He knows he can make you happy with a couple of his body parts

But ever since the plant

He's starting to doubt himself

Is his dick big?

Is it too small?

Just 'average' size

Have you compared it to your exes before?

Or worse HIS FRIENDS?

What if you're put off but you refuse to say something

"Wonwoo, are you finished in the bathroom?"

Please don't be angry

He comes out of the bathroom with his glasses all fogged up and he's surprised you're not put off

You smile and take off his glasses

And by the end of the night and the early morning

You're not the only one that was focused on

In fact

Your body parts and your words made him very happy too

All he can do is hope you had a good time also

2:00am / 2:00

Wonwoo winces as he comes home

Really

It had been a long day at work and he couldn't escape it

But he really fucked up

Because he sees the cake

Already cut

Unevenly

As if to spite him

'Oh i am so dead'

He thinks

All the presents that most likely surrounded you when so many people were over all out of the wrapping

You on the bed turned over

Oh he's so fucked

'Congratulations!'

After he promised you he'd be home as well

5:00am / 5:00

He really can't sleep

He really can't

He's got half a mind to come to your bedside with his tail tucked in between his legs

Pouting because he keeps fucking up no matter what he does

But he swears an oath not to get grumpy at you tomorrow

You didn't do anything wrong

(Not like HE did)

He just gets grumpy in the mornings when he hasn't slept

And that's exactly what he's afraid of when he sees the time

And sees that he's got exactly 1 hour and 14 minutes worth of good sleep before he has to get ready for work

Fuck

But he's got ideas now and no matter how he looks at it

They all look plausible

7:00am / 7:00

You're awoken to the feeling of Wonwoo pawing at your shoulder

Like a child

You wake up

A total dream

Crust in your eyes

Morning breath

Croaky ass voice

"What?"

Ooh that didn't sound nice either

+ Cranky attitude

"Oh shit, sorry sorry."

Wonwoo has his phone in his hand and cursing to the moon and back

Shit

How could he forget you're not a morning person?

"Go to sleep, I'm sorry, love you."

And you forgive him quickly and quietly

Flopping back onto the bed sheets

10:00am / 10:00

Now that it's a suitable hour

You're awake (he made sure)

You weren't tired (he made sure)

You were in a good mood (he hoped so)

He's at home again

With flowers

In his business attire

He went to work 2 hours ago and told his boss that he needs to make up for being a shit husband

His boss luckily understood

Well

Most of it

Wonwoo was stuttering the whole time

But he trusts Wonwoo - he's a very good employee, good at his job.

Amazing at it in fact.

You just hate how you never see him

"I've realised I fucked up. I'm at work all the time. I'm sorry. If I made you feel like you mattered second to me. You don't. I'm just sorry."

"How have you realised that?"

"The plant."

"The plant?"

"It's alive."

You start giggling

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Honey, I'm bored but not that bored. My friend comes around to water it for me, she's appalled by the state of the plants in here."

....

"Oh."

"But I'm glad you're realising something."

author's note : loser wonwoo my fave genre.

[ivoraic]

a/n: gender neutral, just a cute moment between you, the first years, and gojo

It's one of those rare, blissful mornings where there are no missions, no training, and no immediate disasters waiting to unfold. A morning where, for once, you can just exist without having to dodge curses, deal with absurdly powerful enemies, or get thrown into another one of Gojo's ridiculous antics.

So, naturally, it doesn't last.

You're sitting in the lounge, curled up comfortably with a warm cup of tea, savoring the quiet. The light streaming in through the windows casts a soft glow across the room, and for a moment, it almost feels peaceful.

Then, the door creaks open, and in steps Megumi.

He's always up early, his hair still slightly messy from sleep but his expression as composed as ever. His sharp eyes sweep the room before landing on you, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"Morning," he says, voice even, though there's a slight stiffness in his posture.

You smile. "Morning, Megumi."

At that, his ears tint red. Just a little.

There's a pause, the kind of hesitation that comes with careful consideration. He shifts his weight slightly, hands buried in his pockets, before finally clearing his throat.

"I was wondering..." He glances away, the slightest furrow in his brows. "If you'd like to train with me today?"

He's so shy, so adorable, that you can't help but grin. You're already about to reply with an enthusiastic sure when-

BANG!

The door flies open, nearly coming off its hinges.

"There you are!"

Yuji bursts into the room, practically vibrating with excitement, completely oblivious to the moment he just destroyed.

"There's this huge event at the arcade today!" he announces, grinning wide. "If you beat the high score on this game, you get a limited edition prize! But it's a two player game, and I need a partner! So-”

He finally registers Megumi standing beside you, his face still slightly pink, and blinks. "Oh."

You open and close your mouth, blinking a few times yourself. "Well, I-"

But, of course, you don't even get the chance to explain before a third person walks in.

Nobara saunters into the room, flipping her hair over one shoulder as she drops herself onto the couch beside you, crossing her legs with effortless grace. She slings an arm over your shoulders like she owns the place, because honestly, she kind of does.

She yawns, stretching. "God, let's ditch these losers and go shopping." She smirks, nudging you. "I found this really good place downtown. Plus they have the best food court."

"Hey!" Yuji protests immediately, turning to her with an indignant pout. "I was talking to them first!"

Megumi, who has now gone completely ignored, just sighs, shaking his head in his hands.

And then, just when you think the situation can't get any worse-

He walks in.

Gojo Satoru.

He strides into the room, exuding his usual chaotic energy, hands in his pockets and that damn blindfold hiding whatever mischief is undoubtedly gleaming in his eyes. He takes one look at Nobara, seated far too comfortably beside you, and immediately shoos her aside.

"Move, move," he says, making an impatient gesture with his hand.

She scoffs, scooting away with an eye roll. "Ugh, seriously?"

Without hesitation, Gojo plops down in her spot, pulling you in close to his side, his long arm draped around your shoulders like second nature.

You let out a slow, suffering exhale.

"I should've just stayed in bed," you mutter under your breath.

Megumi, despite himself, chuckles softly.

But Gojo (because of course he hears it), gasps dramatically, hand over his heart. "What was that?!" he demands, fake offended. "You love spending time with me, don't lie!"

You sigh again, pinching the bridge of your nose, while Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi all exchange long-suffering glances.

So much for a peaceful day.

[yuyusshinelight]

Dad thoughts feat ATEEZ: I want a brother/sister

♪ This post is about how I think they would be as parents; just that, some thoughts. This does NOT represent any of Ateez's members in any way.

♪ English is not my first language so sorry if there's any mistake.

Vocabulary just in case someone doesn't know:

y/s/n — your son's name

y/d/n — your daughter's name

Byeol — star

Jagi — sweetheart, darling, etc...

Note: Hi my shining stars! Here I come with a new scenario for our boys being dads because I know how much you like those parenting headcanons. I hope you like it and enjoy your reading. Love you all!!!

SEONGHWA

Seonghwa and your daughter were peacefully building their Lego sets together when the older Park decided to have a conversation about that not too little issue you had commented to him when he had arrived at home "I have heard that you want a little sibling, byeol" and the little girl only nodded, not stopping her really important task of mistakenly making the base of the moon on which his half-finished Sanrio doll should lie "And can daddy know why you want a little brother or sister?".

Seonghwa was clearly trying to get your daughter to tell him the same thing you had told him that afternoon without asking her directly. The way you looked at the ground with a soft pout when you told him that your little star had been sad lately for being only child had him worried about the issue being more serious than he though at first.

"I don't like to be alone" At that confession Seonghwa's heart stopped. Perhaps you two had made her feel lonely without realizing it? "But you have mommy and daddy, my love".

"It's not the same... We can't stay together all the time" The sadness with which his beloved daughter said that felt like the most hurtful stab directly into his heart, it even made Seonghwa hate his work for a moment "Daddy and mommy would like to be with you all the time, baby, but—".

"But you can't, I know..." For how his baby had finished his sentence, Seonghwa couldn't help but feel worse, her small but heartbreaking pout could be perfectly appreciated in her sweet voice.

Something in his head snapped.

In the gentlest way he could, the man took his daughter from her seat to put her on his lap and give her that so needed hug he was craving for "Don't you worry, byeol, mommy and daddy will bring you a little brother or sister, okay?" The speed at which her head turned to look him directly in the eyes even scared the poor man with the possibility of a sudden dizziness or some blow to his little girl from such an action but all his worries erased as fast as your daughter moved her head seconds before thanks to the way in which her eyes shone brighter than ever, holding the galaxy itself in those small orbs exactly like his own "Really? It's a promise?".

The excitement on the little girl's face brought out the most tender and sincere smile from Seonghwa who didn't last long to rub his nose against hers, showering her soft cheeks with many kisses "It's a promise, my byeol".

And maybe he should have talked about the sibling thing with you before promising it to your daughter but, let's not lie, Seonghwa knew you better than yourself; the moment he said yes to his daughter he was already counting on you to be more than okay with having a second child. In fact, you were the one who laid Seonghwa on your shared bed after making sure that your child was peacefully asleep on her own to ride him like never before until he decided to change positions to bury himself even deeper inside you. It wasn't in his plans to break the promise he made to his little star so he fucked you until he left your belly nicely swollen with his seed.

Neither of you could deny anything to your little four-year-old walking smile.

HONGJOONG

"I want a little sister" said your three-year-old son as he perched himself in his father's work chair, a phrase that made Hongjoong drop whatever he was with that same moment and look at the kid "What? Why all of a sudden?".

"My best friend just had one and she's very cute" The way in which his baby waddled slowly without letting go of the chair, with that rascally face inherited from him himself, looking at him expectantly for an affirmative answer, brought out of Hongjoong his most genuine smile "Well, yes. Babies are really cute" he said, ruffling his hair before picking him up and sitting the child on his lap "but that's not a reason to have one, love".

For how the minor gasped dramatically while frowning, there was no doubt that that response had even offended him. This little boy's reactions were so comically unique that Hongjoong's stomach even hurt from laughing on many occasions.

"But I want one!" The child said as if it was the most prevalent reason to have a baby, and Hongjoong was about to talk but the appearance of his favorite girl stopped him "I think I have something to say in all this no?" You said, entering the room until you were standing next to your husband, something that didn't last long because said husband didn't like the idea of not having you closer so he sat you on his free leg; and it's not like you were going to complain, in fact, you hugged him "It's my belly the one that's going to hold that little sister for nine months".

"How?" As soon as he asked, both parents' eyes widened. You should have assumed he would ask, but hey, it's not like you mind talking about it, not like Hongjoong apparently "How what, baby?" He acted dumb, clearly not wanting to have that conversation now, too young his son to talk about anything of that "How will the baby get into mommy's tummy?" But this little curious boy wasn't about to leave the topic for Hongjoong's misfortune, who even let out an accidental "Oh shit".

It had to be said that Hongjoong didn't expect that he should have to answer this question at this point of his short life as a father, nor did he expect that too adorable "Oh shit" from the kid either. Word that clearly set off your alarms as a mother "No, baby. Don't say that" You corrected him, booping his nose and waiting for the child to ask why he couldn't say it if his dad could but you were surprised with that too cute "Okay mommy".

Both you and Hongjoong were about to die of love.

"That's my good boy" Hongjoong said, ruffling his hair one more time and giving him a kiss on the head "So are you going to bring me a little sister yes or not?" You both looked at each other, not knowing exactly what to say, until Hongjoong decided to leave the answer hanging in the air "We'll see" to which your son answered with an unfortunate unexpected "Fuck".

"HONGJOONG" Was the first thing that crossed your mind, yelling at the surprised man that was now looking at you "I DIDN'T EVEN SAY THAT" But then he stopped, thinking for a moment "Well maybe he has learned it from me, yes..." And your son nodding only made you look even worse at your husband "Don't say that either, okay baby?" And with that your baby boy covered his mouth with his two little hands and nod one more time, making you both laugh.

YUNHO

It was a peaceful night at Jeong's residence until your eldest son ended with said peace after all those failed attempts to play with his little sister who was only dedicated to watch him move while eating her tiny fist so calmly in her baby-hammock.

"I want another brother or sister!" Your son screamed, running towards his father's open legs to hide his head in his crotch and hold on to his legs. Sudden blow to his private parts that made Yunho complain and you chuckled softly under your breath so as not to be discovered by your husband who was already looking at you with half-closed eyes and shaking his head despite being laughing too.

"Why do you say that, baby?" You asked after you managed to calm your laughter "Because Y/D/N never plays with me!" Your son screamed again, readjusting his posture while firming his grip without separating an inch from his father "It's that?" Yunho asked between laughs, stroking his little head after hearing his son complain in a sort of shouted sob "I mean, if you want another sibling daddy will give you one".

"Tch, Yunho" His first name, not jagi. Bad moment to put on display his pleaser nature, man "But you have to ask mommy too" And you nodded, he was safe "So... you want another sibling to play with because your sister can't, baby?" And your son nodded without taking his head off his father's body "But you have to know that if we give you a new brother or sister, they couldn't play with you either" And that's the moment your son lifted his head, looking at you directly with a mix of horror and surprise, as if what you had said was the strangest thing ever "Why?".

"Because they would be even smaller than Y/D/N".

"More?!" He was silent for a moment after both Yunho and you nodded, seeming to be reconsidering what you had just revealed to him, when he suddenly separated from Yunho completely, crossing his arms and giving you both his back angrily "I don't want another sibling then".

"Oh no, my third baby" Jeong senior said dramatically, he even put his hands on his chest where his heart was pretending to be hurt "Yunho" you said in a warning tone, taking your son in your arms to hug him, accommodating you two in the couch under the warmth of your favorite blanket "Oh, come on. Three kids sounds nice, don't you think?".

"Y/D/N is only seven months old, let me enjoy life without kicks that burst my ribs a little longer" You couldn't see it because you were too busy kissing your son but you already knew that Yunho was smiling for how happy he sounded saying "A little longer? Is that a yes to a third baby?" Which only confirmed to you that Yunho was indeed looking forward to having a third. And one thing you were never good at since you started dating him was saying no to him when he looked so adorably excited about something "It's a 'maybe when my ribs return to their natural position because your daughter opened them for kicking them so many times' ".

"We're having a third" Yunho said victoriously with that goofy smile that you fell in love with at first sight and that, to this day, was still one of your many weak points.

YEOSANG

"Daddy" your daughter said in the softest voice you could have ever heard in your life. You couldn't see her because you were at the laundry room while your husband and daughter were doing an afternoon snack but you could even swear that she was playing with her little fingers nervously for the tone she used. That was one of her gestures when she was about to ask for something "Tell me, darling" Yeosang sounded as cute as your daughter which made you smile foolishly, nothing could please you more than the fact that the two loves of your life were so much alike "Can I have a sibling, please?".

That question surely made you slow down the speed at which you were doing the laundry, as if that would help you to hear better. It was a topic Yeosang and you talked about a few months ago, both thinking that it would be nice to have a second child not only because you two think that having siblings is so beneficial for a kid, but because you both were attracted by the idea of expanding your family. Another living proof of your love for each other.

But those were your reasons to want another baby, what would your daughter's reasons be? You were curious about them. Just like Yeosang.

"Of course, darling. But can daddy know why you ask?" The tenderness with which your husband was handling this conversation, like every conversation he had with your daughter, was so heartwarming. You could die of a sweet high "I want a sibling to be my best friend forever" and your daughter was about to finish what her father had started.

Not being able to be a mere listener anymore, you put the small skirt you had in your hands back in the laundry basket to go out to the kitchen, finding the lovely picture of your daughter sitting at the counter next to your husband, helping him prepare a bowl of fruit for the three of you to enjoy together.

"Have you heard it, Y/N-ah?" Yeosang said, looking at you with a cute smile that made his dimples stand out. He looked so innocent that made your heart beat in happiness "That's why I'm here, jagi" you approached them, taking your daughter's cheeks between your hands "To tell our baby that mommy and daddy will try to give her a sibling as soon as possible" and then you showered your little girl with lots of kisses to which she replied more than delighted just to join forces you both a few seconds later to shower Yeosang with kisses as well. Something the male was more than happy to accept.

SAN

When your older daughter asked in the middle of the dinner for another sibling you choked with your water to which San quickly reacted by patting you gently on the back, a situation that seemed very funny to the youngest of the three children who couldn't stop laughing at mommy's coughing fit. Whoever was not amused at all was your middle child, and it was not surprising after how much she cried and threw a tantrum when San and you told her that she was going to be big sister.

"Another one?!" She looked at her parents with a mixture of fear, surprise and rejection in her eyes that threatened to burst into tears if you gave her an affirmative answer. She looked so affected that she even worried you both. San couldn't see his kid like that "No, baby" he answered with so much tenderness, hugging the kid and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead before looking at you and asking "No?".

Who knows, maybe you were expecting a fourth child and he didn't know it.

But you shook your head what made your older daughter cross her arms and openly complain about not having a fourth sibling to which your second daughter yelled a not too nice "Three are fine!" Frowning and getting up from her seat to climb onto her father's lap so he could hold her as she wanted, searching for his comfort "But I want another brother!" The eldest answered in the same way her sister had spoken. The girls' tone only hinted at an impending fight between them, something that neither San nor you wanted obviously so San immediately cut them off with a serious "Enough girls".

San hated to use a severe tone with his children but he hated even more the idea of having a fight between his daughters when it was supposed to be a nice and lovely dinner in family. Much worse if the fight was going to be about whether or not to have another member in your family.

"What have we said about raising our voices in a bad way?" He said with seriousness, which made both kids look down with a pout "Sorry..." Both girls said at unison, now looking up at their father before looking at the other, your middle child climbing off San's lap to hug her older sister as an apology. Both had been taught to apologise to each other with a hug to make amends.

And after seeing that your daughters were fine again you decided to settle the dispute "About the sibling thing" both girls had their attention on you now "Daddy and mommy think that three kids are enough, by the moment" which made your second daughter smile unconsciously while your eldest pouted "But that doesn't mean that we won't bring you another sibling in the future" this time your second daughter was the one not looking so pleased while the eldest was smiling.

From the way they both nodded you knew they were content but not satisfied with that. You had given birth to them and raised them, you knew absolutely every single one of their gestures and what they meant. But hey, the discussion was over and you could go back to dinner in peace.

MINGI

"I like this one" Your son said, pointing to a photo in which both children were curled up in their father's arms, the three of them sleeping on the couch comfortably, Mingi hadn't even changed his clothes; one of your favorite pictures in fact, just looking at it almost brought tears to your eyes "In this one dad had just arrived from a tour. You refused to leave his arms even for a single second".

"How old were we?" This one was your daughter "Seven months" Mingi answered, smiling at the memory of how his babies received him that day with their little arms raised, calling him between really cute babblings while they moved nervously in their mother's arms "Such cute babies we were and I don't remember that" Your daughter said dramatically "We need a baby in this house".

"Wait, what?" You looked between your kids and Mingi, who was as surprised as you from hearing that, getting even more surprised when your son agreed with his sister "Right! If we have a little brother or sister they will look as cute as us!".

"Woo, woo, woo. Slow down you two" Mingi tried to calm his already excited twins but it didn't work at all "And why a little brother or a little sister when we can have both?" Your daughter ignored him to continue her talk with her brother, you could almost swear that her eyes were shining. But here dad came to try to calm the situation a second time after seeing the way in which your eyes widened "I told you to slow down, neither your mom nor I have said that we are going to bring you a sibling".

"But daddy! We lost each other as a baby!" Your son exclaimed dramatically as if it was the worst thing ever, with his hands on his father's cheeks and his head tilted back to add more drama "We want to have a baby at home" your daughter pouted sadly with a frown and, before Mingi had the opportunity to reply to that you suddenly said "Well, they really seem very excited about the idea of being big bother and sister, daddy" looking at him with a knowing smile. Apparently he had misinterpreted that expression of yours from a few seconds ago.

The fact is that Mingi had caught your message but, with both children staring at him expectantly, he couldn't do anything but respond to you with one look that only you could interpret: tomorrow you weren't going to be able to get out of bed. But that was only for you, obviously, the answer for your twins was "Then it seems to me that the family is going to grow, mommy " For which your living room ended up filled with euphoric shouts from your kids.

WOOYOUNG

"Babe, come here!" Wooyoung screamed from the kitchen and a lot of horrible things crossed your mind, since your son had been burned until he had cut one of his fingers "What happens?! I swear to god that if my baby is missing just one finger I'll—".

"None of that, I have everything under control here. Just listen to what our baby has to tell you" and with that all your attention went to your three year old boy who was jumping in the stool he was standing on to help his dad with dinner "I want a little sister!" And at such a revelation you could only blink several times, looking between father and son in silence until, after blinking a few more times, you said a simple "A sister".

"Yes!" Your eldest son said really excited, jumping even higher in his spot to which Wooyoung already had his arm around him but without touching him, just as a precautionary measure to prevent his son from falling "I already have a brother, I want a sister now".

Without a doubt, you thought it was quite cute the way he had said it, swaying his little body from side to side with those bright little eyes, but you couldn't help but to look up at the smiling father, looking for an answer "Do you have anything to do with this, love?" And Wooyoung shoke his head, not stopping smiling even for a second "It's all Y/S/N idea. But I also think that it's time to have a girl, babe".

And, to say the truth, the idea of having a girl was quite tempting, even more so when you had been thinking the same thing for a while. Having two children was fantastic as well as exhausting, you were more than sure that having one more could only double the happiness but also the exhaustion. And that was a sacrifice you were willing to do for sure.

"And you? Do you want a sister too?" You asked your second son who you were carrying in your arm, the baby smiling at you the very next moment his big shining eyes met yours which made you smile too "Okay then. Let's see if we can bring you a little sister" You finally said, both your eldest son and your husband screamed with excitement "But you have to know that it may not be a girl but another boy".

"We can always try again, love, don't worry about that" Wooyoung said nonchalantly, winking at you with a big smile to which your son exclaimed an excited "Yes!" Happy with the thought that one way or another he was going to have a little sister "Why did I already expect it..." You shook your head but not in a bad mood, you were also laughing at how predictable Wooyoung and your son were to you.

JONGHO

"Go, go. Ask daddy, my love" Jongho heard you say to your son distantly, you were at the bathroom giving your kid a shower while he was resting on the sofa after having set the table for dinner. Then, the sound of tiny quick steps made him turn off his phone, waiting for his son to appear in front of him just to be surprised by the kid poking his little head out on the side "Hi, baby" Said Jongho, waiting patiently for his son to tell him whatever he had to tell him "I want a brother!".

One, two, three blinks from the surprised father. Not even a hi. His son went straight to the point. The child was certainly clear about his priorities.

Well, such a question demanded seriousness so Jongho leaned closer to the armrest to close distance with his son, resting one arm and intertwining his hands "Daddy and mommy have to talk about it first but tell me, why you want a sibling?".

He had heard multiple reasons why a child might want a sibling. Some quite cute, some quite funny, and with the witty answers your son had for everything, Jongho was especially curious about this one. What a surprise he got when he heard your little boy say "All my friends are from the school or the park, if I have a sibling I will have a friend at home too!".

It was certainly something totally unexpected for Jongho. Although the thought of his son indirectly telling him that he felt lonely at home worried him for a moment, the sight of the smiling kid quickly dispelled all those worries. His little boy just wanted a playmate at home like he had at school and in the park.

"Fine. We'll see if we give you a sibling, okay?" Your son nodded enthusiastically at his father before going to the dining table, leaving both Jongho and you alone in the living room "That was a maybe for a second baby?" You asked him with something like hope shining in your eyes and that was when Jongho remembered hearing you say how much you wanted a second child when you were on the phone, talking to a friend.

If both his son and wife wanted to expand the family, he only could please them so, standing up from his seat, Jongho approached you, stopping in front of you with both hands in the pockets of his trousers "We'll see. We can try as many times as you want but I don't control biology, jagi" and he left you there with a blush on your cheeks, clearly having taken the hint in his words, going to the dining table too with a big smile on his lips.

[thoughtfultyrantlove]

jealousy, jealousy, jealousy. [part of this fic]

ever since the two of you returned from the gion matsuri—with a new love bloomed in an indian summer—gojo satoru has become the talk of your town.

who's that handsome man patrolling around the corner?

i swear, my lady, i just want to meet with him for—uh—some fighting sessions... yes! that's it.

(...)

sister, any chance you can set me up with him?

(you almost yelled at the poor girl before nana dragged you back into the home.)

yes, you get it; handsome face drinking in every ounce of sunlight, the rippled body hiding underneath his haori that leaves nothing to imagination. combined with the softest of smiles—a dazzling diamond; most expensive of them all in the whole of the bazaar—yes, you know.

it's satoru, what did you expect?

and it makes you feel all the more worse.

beacuse there's not a single day gone by where satoru doesn't remind you of how you meant to him, that all of which that constitutes him—everything that is gojo satoru— already had your name engraved on them, signed yours the moment he caught you peeking from behind those excuse of a blinds.

(he would write it himself if you ever asked him to.)

everything, absolutely everything: his belongings? all yours, sweetness. miss him? a whisper of your longing and be ready to be carried back to your quaters as he pays no mind to the ever growing stack of his tasks.

but most importantly, his love? only for you, darling, only for you.

(a heavy breath whispered between flashes of pleasure during moonless nights as he craddles you close to his heart.)

then why?

the question lingers; a new friend you don't know how to greet.

why does your chest feel so tight all of a sudden? it asks, but you don't have any answer.

hidden away from the fronts of your minka ignoring an agitated feeling pricking at your nerves, you stand in your courtyard—the usual whirlwind of sakura petals and brine water swirling around you; silently watching the scene unfolding—with your kitty in your hands. and satoru... well, he certainly looks like he's over the moon.

smushed in a horde of females—teens just returning from the school with a bunch of middle aged aunties who can't help but froth at the sight of a much younger man; you don't mind them, that much. but the much prettier and much younger faces in the crowd stand apart, almost glowing.

sakura paints their cheeks while long eyelashes flutter ever so slightly as satoru laughs—and you almost do too. it's overbearing: the obnoxiously high giggles and whatnot. can't they just stop? it's so painfully obvious at this point.

though your eye almost bulges out, the moment one of their hands run across his biceps, feeling and squeezing, and—

shriek!

your cat yells loudly, immediately fleeing from your not so safe embrace. (sorry, yumi!) its loud noises reach the group just outside your courtyard—your eyes meets satoru's.

you look away, and he smiles, cerulean eyes hypotized by you and only you.

satoru immediately excuses himself—loud exasperated sighs following his leave.

good riddance.

“how are you, my love?”

ridiculously broad frame settles in front of you, wood creaks, and birds fly. satoru smiles at you, pearly whites gimmering ever so gently—the sincere one reserved just for you.

even though nectar fills in your mouth, your lips remain shut, moulded into a thin line—not giving him the pleasure of hearing you speak.

(but it's not his fault.)

satoru blinks—confusion seeping into his handome features—as he leans forward, head supported by his palms. he repeats: “how are you?”

he's only met with a loud huff, and a whine almost escapes his throat. your eyes move from the leaves decorating the bushes, to the koi dancing in the pond all the way to the honey dipped sky; anywhere except his awaiting ones—depraving him of yet another thing he loved about you.

“what's the matter, darling?” a soothing reassurance guided by his gentle caress on your knuckles as he takes your delicate hands in his scarred ones; you almost give in.

almost.

“oh?” lacking breath as something growls inside you, it's the only thing you can manage amidst the spiraling of your rationale—a thirst in your throat that can't be quenched even with the ambrosia itself, “why don't you ask yourself that?”

you exclaim, dazed eyes flickering between the front gates before fleeing back to the falling pink petals.

so that's what it's about.

satoru smirks—a little curve arcing his lips—enough to crack through your stubborn walls. you watch from your peripheral as he glances back at the minka's gate—yes, some of the ladies are still here, squealing in joy as satoru waves at them.

this bastard—

and on cue, an unknown force pulls on you, and you crash against him—softness trampling under his sturdy frame. shock paints your face as you turn to look at him. he's still smirking—a teasing glint shining in his eyes.

“satoru!” you gasp out as large hands travel under your robe, hot skin picking up underneath his naturally icy palms. “w—what are you doing—”

silenced.

effectively so by the push of his soft lips on yours. satoru urges you to kiss him back, a gentle pinch on your back finalized with the tugging on your bottom lips, and you do. your mouth agape as he explores your caravans—desperately licking all over your palate—painting something of an apology you understand immediately.

oh satoru...

you whisper his name, spit-slicked lips curling against his, and he whispers yours back before his claim yours again—sucking with such reverence that even the sakura petals shy away from the two of you.

long forgetten are the ladies from before—you don't know when they ran away, and you don't care at all because the little itch in the back of your head is soothed at last.

curses satoru, curses.

a/n→ i need him so bad...

[munsonsmixtapes]

Just You and Me: Part One

Hello, everyone! I was reading this series by @the-witty-pen-name and was inspired to make a fic where y’all chose who reader ends up with! On every part of this series this one, there will be a poll where you can vote whether you want reader to end up with Steve or Eddie! This has been so much fun to write and I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary: You convince Steve to fake date you in order to get Eddie's attention, unbeknownst to you that Steve is actually very much in love with you.

Part One: The Agreement

The diner is packed as you sit at a booth, your best friend across from you, eating his stack of pancakes while you've barely even touched yours. You're too nervous to eat, and honestly, watching Steve chow down is making you feel sick. there's just a lot of riding on the whole thing and you know you're going to sound crazy for asking him in the first place, but you still want to at least try.

Steve would do anything for you, you know that, but you're wondering if maybe this is crossing a line. You push your plate to the center of the table and sip on your soda, still trying to get the courage to tell him why you really wanted to meet him there. It definitely wasn't just for pancakes.

Steve isn't stupid. He knows something's going on that you're not telling him. You look sick, nervous and he hates seeing you like that. He just wants you to say what you need to say so you'll feel better again. He knows you're only chugging down your soda so you don't have to speak and he hates that for you, trying his best to not seem concerned because for whatever reason, that always somehow makes it all worse.

You finally get the courage to look up at him and hate that he's put on that dopey smile that always seems to be reserved for you. He's finished his pancakes so now he's just staring at you, waiting for you to just get on with it, politely, though, because he's Steve.

"What I'm about to ask of you is crazy and I know that. You are more than welcome to say no and I won't be offended if you do," you finally say before taking a deep breath.

"Are you asking me to bury a dead body? Did you kill them? No, I actually don't want to know. Wait, yeah I do. I should know if my best friend has committed murder." He's speaking so quickly that you can barely even understand what he's saying.

"I don't need help burying a body and I didn't murder anyone. I'm not asking you to do anything illegal, Steve. I would never ask you to do that. That's why we have Eddie, right?" Steve knows that Eddie would be the one to help you out with that kind of thing and that pisses him off. Fucking Eddie. It's just been the two of you your whole lives and then this fucker comes in and ruins Steve's whole plan. Well, he would have if Steve would have just stopped being a pussy and asked you out already.

Truth be told, the man has been in love with you since the moment he laid eyes on you. All you've ever been is friends, but he wants to be more. And he wants it so badly that the whole thing makes his chest ache. The only reason why he hasn't made a move in the almost fifteen years you've been friends is because as much as he loves you romantically, he doesn't want your relationship to change. He's afraid that if the two of you got together, you'd eventually break up and then he'd lose you for good.

"Right, so what's this about?" He asks before taking a sip from his own glass. For once, he's unable to read the situation. He almost always knows what's going on with you, but right now, he's got nothing.

"Well, speaking of Eddie, well, I sort of have a huge crush on him." Steve doesn't know why you're telling him this. He's known for a while. You're so obvious about it that it sometimes makes him cringe. He wishes he could give you some of his subtlety so you’d look a little more cool around Eddie.

"Duh." He's laughing now and for once, it's a joke you don't get, like it's something just for Steve and Steve alone.

"You know?"

"Y/n, all of Hawkins knows. You're not exactly subtle. But what does this have to do with me?"

"I was wondering if you maybe...would be willing to fake date me in order to get his attention." His eyes widen at your request. Whatever he thought you were going to say, it defintely wasn't that.

"Yeah, nice try. Not happening." He can't do it. He won't. He would do just about anything for you, but not this. This is where he’s drawing the line.

"You're not even going to consider it?" You're pouting now and if things were different, he'd kiss it away, or maybe he'd just give in because he almost always does when it comes to your silly ideas. This one, though, has got to be the silliest of them all.

"You said I could say no so this is me saying no." He crosses his arms over his chest in a sort of "that's final" manner and you know you should just forget the whole thing. It was all just a pipe dream anyway.

It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to help, it’s that he can’t. He would actually love to pretend to be your boyfriend and act all mushy with you like he’s wanted for years, but none of it will be real. It’s just going to be a fake relationship with fake feelings and fake kisses and he just can’t take that. It will all just hurt too much when he watches you running into Eddie’s arms when the thing is all over.

He already feels like a dick and seeing the dejected look on your face as you stir your soda with your straw is starting to feel like you stabbed him in the chest. And you might as well have. It would hurt much less.

Guilt is beginning to eat at him as he looks at you. That sad look on your face is making him reconsider. You do so much for him so he doesn’t know why he can’t do this little thing for you. It’ll be maybe a couple weeks tops, right? That wouldn’t be too bad. And not to toot his own horn or anything, but he’s a great actor. Well, he only thinks so because The Hawkins Post article that covered his fourth grade class’s performance of The Wizard of Oz applauded his role as Toto.

Maybe he can fake date you. Maybe it could be fun and he’s just overthinking it. He just wants you to be happy, and the thought of you possibly asking someone else is starting to make him feel sick.

“I guess I could just ask Robin,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, but he can still very much hear you. He can’t believe how quick you’re switching up on him, how quickly you’re able to find an alternate now that he’s said no. He’s usually your first and only option for things so now that you’re even considering asking anyone else-well, the knife has been twisted.

“I see how quick you are to replace me,” he grumbles. “And with Robin?”

“Well, who else am I going to ask? My first choice said no.”

“Or maybe you could cut the shit and just tell him how you feel. Eddie likes it when people are straight up with him.”

You know he’s right, but actually putting your feelings out there is terrifying, especially to one of your friends. You feel sick even thinking about it, the worst possible outcome playing in your head. You can vividly see Eddie laughing at you, the sounds echoing, sounding distorted, making you feel small and scared.

Yeah, there’s no chance that you’re letting that happen even though Eddie would never laugh at you because of something like that. If he were going to reject you, he’d let you down easy and be nothing but a gentleman about it.

“Alright, fine, fine,” Steve pulls you out of your thoughts. “Jesus, you’re lucky I love you.”

“Aww, I love you too, Stevie.” You’ve got on a smug smirk and he’s prepared to shut that shit down. As much as he loves you, he’s not doing this without something in return.

“Not so fast.”

“What?” You’re genuinely confused, convinced that it was a done deal and now you’re unsure if he’s actually going to go through with it or not.

“I mean, what do I get out of this? What’s in it for Steve?” He leans back against the booth, crossing his arms over his chest.

“The satisfaction of a job well done?” You ask with a shrug and he just shakes his head, unimpressed.

“If it works,” he scoffs. “What else?”

“My love and affection?” That should be a given.

“Boring,” he yawns. “You have to cover any family video shift I ask of you and you have to do my laundry for a month.”

“You’re kidding.” Your shoulders slump as you realize that you’re actually going to have to agree to his terms if you ever want to have a chance with Eddie.

“Afraid not. You didn’t seriously think I’d do it for free, did you?” You sort of did because he always does, but you suppose that this is much bigger than his other favors.

“I don’t know, maybe. But you’ve got a deal.” You reach across the table and put your hand out for him to shake.

“Really? That easily. Shit, you must be desperate.” He shakes your hand and that’s that. Steve is now officially your fake boyfriend.

“I am.”

“This better be worth it.” God, this is going to kill him, but anything for his best friend, right?

“Oh, it will be,” you tell him as you down the rest of your soda as you grab your purse that’s sitting next to you before you and Steve stand from your table and you walk side by side to the front where you pay for the meal. It’s the least you can do for Steve helping you out like this, right?

-

“You are such a dingus,” Robin tells Steve. He’s over at her apartment, the two of them talking over mugs of coffee at her kitchen table. He raced right over after breakfast with you to discuss the colossal mistake he just made, desperately wanting his other best friend’s advice.

“What the hell else was I supposed to do, Rob? She was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes.” He’s saying it like that was the only option he had when he could have easily said no and you would have dropped it.

“Jesus Christ, Harrington. Why can’t you just tell her that you love her?”

“And risk ruining one of the best friendship I’ve ever had? No thanks.”

“I can’t but also can believe you’ve gotten yourself into this. It’s just like you to help the woman you love get another man. Just so you know, I don’t support this.”

Robin loves you, you’re one of her best friends, and while she doesn’t think you ever ask too much of Steve, she does think that he tends to overlook his feelings to spare yours a lot of the time. He’d much rather risk his own happiness if it means he’s helping you in some sort of way.

While she loves that he’s willing to go above and beyond for you, she still thinks that’s it’s important that he takes care of himself. She just wants what’s best for him and hates that he’ll spread himself way too thin just to see a smile on your face.

“No one was asking you to,” he glares and she just mimics his facial expression. “I wasn’t asking for advice, I was just telling you what’s going on so you wouldn’t think it was real and blow my secret.”

“You’re pathetic,” she shakes her head. She honestly doesn’t know Steve still hasn’t told you the truth. The two of you could be married or at least engaged by now, but he’s too much of a chicken to just admit his feelings for you.

He’ll claim it’s because he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship, but Robin knows the truth. She knows that he’s just afraid of putting himself out there. She’s seen the women zipping in and out of his life and not one of them has stuck. As much as he claims he wants to love and be loved, he’s scared. Terrified, even. He’s convinced it will all just crash and burn and he’ll be all alone. Again.

“I know,” he whines, resting his head onto the table before quickly leaning back up and running a hand through his hair. “But hey, if said no, she was going to ask you.”

“Me?” She asks, her eyebrows shooting up as her big eyes widen. “I could have been her fake significant other? Shit, I would have done it for free.” Robin has always thought you were pretty and shit, having everyone think that you were her girlfriend would have been a goddamn honor.

“You’re not her type.” She knows exactly what he means by that, but she just feels like messing with him.

“Oh, and you are?” That’s salt in the wound and she knows it. But that doesn’t mean she’s going to take it back.

“You know what I mean,” he waves his hand in a dismissive manner. “And besides, you’re a terrible liar so it wouldn’t have worked out anyway.

“Well, I would have sold it much better than you,” she scoffs. “But maybe not since you always look at her with the longing stares. How she doesn’t know is beyond me. Anyway, I have to get to work. I’ll see you later, lover boy.”

As Robin leaves, Steve’s not so quick to get up. He just stares down into his coffee mug, gathering his thought about the whole thing. One the one hand, he wants to help you, but one the other, he’s already starting to feel hurt about deceiving his friend. Eddie’s someone he’s gotten really close to over the years and he’d hate to lose someone so special to him just because of something like that.

And what happens if you actually do end up with Eddie? Will Steve resent him for it? It wouldn’t exactly be fair since Eddie has no idea that Steve is in love with you, but he just doesn’t think he’d be able to stand by and watch the two of you behave like a couple when that’s all he’s wanted pretty much his whole life.

But there’s no turning back now. He’s going to stick it out because he doesn’t want to let you down. He’s going to have to see this through, watching you use him to get another man while having no idea that’s he’s fallen madly and deeply in love with you.

He drains the last few sips of his coffee then puts the mug in the dishwasher before heading out, making sure to lock Robin’s door behind him. He gets into his car and sits for a second, thinking to himself that he’s about to be in for one hell of a ride.

[beneathsilverstars]

people are wondering about loop in the au where the party stops siffrin from using the dagger in dormont and the ensuing conversation breaks the loops so let's see...

Siffrin would still want to go see Loop first thing afterwards, but everyone else would be verrry worried about him going off alone. He tries to inconspicuously wander off but Isabeau is immediately like, "Heyy buddy where are you off to? Mind if I come with?" Siffrin feels guilty for selfishly making everyone feel obligated to not leave him alone, and getting them all worried about an issue that isn't even what it looked like. So he's kinda hoping they won't be so worried about him now that they've beat the king and decided to stay together... but he's also afraid that if they stop worrying, they'll decide, okay, no need to stay together after all.

But luckily Siffrin doesn't have to sort all of that out right now, because they know Loop has complicated feelings about the party and doesn't want to see them, so they know they have to go by themself if they want a chance of talking to them.

They try to play it casual, "I'm just going to the favor tree, you don't have to come with me." But two can play at surface-level manners so Isabeau says "I want to, though, it's no trouble!" Siffrin doesn't want to refuse him point-blank, but they really want to talk to Loop... so they go back and forth another time or two before Isabeau's like "Look. You understand why I'm worried about you suddenly going off for no apparent reason, right? On your own, when you've been glued to my side for the last half hour? I... I don't want to stop you,'' (Does that mean that he wouldn't? Or that he would, but he'd be sorry about it?) "but I would feel a lot better about it if you brought someone with you? Doesn't have to be me. Or at least explained why you're going...? Sorry, I know it must be so annoying to have to explain your every move, but... it's been less than a day, since. y'know. And I'd be... I just want you to stay safe."

And oh, Siffrin hates that he's made Isabeau so upset, that he messed up so bad yesterday and that he's making it worse right now, that he's made him so concerned over nothing. So he hesitantly, carefully explains, "There's someone I want to talk to. at the favor tree. I... talked to them there yesterday? And. they might be there again today, but. they definitely won't talk to me if any of you are with me." And, okay, it's reassuring that Siffrin has a reason, and it doesn't even seem he's lying, but. Isabeau can't help but be worried anyway. Especially because this is apparently someone Siffrin talked to at right about the same time that he started acting weird, yesterday? What if this person made Siffrin feel worse, what if they did something that pushed Siffrin over the edge??

But he knows that's edging past reasonable concern into paranoia, so he just asks, "Would it be alright if I walked you to the edge of town at least? Since you're still kinda woozy, and, that way I'll be in earshot if you need me...?" And Siffrin agrees, very relieved to have found a compromise and actually glad for the continued company. And it occurs to them that Isabeau might be less worried about them if they didn't have their dagger on them, and, the day has already been saved... So he gives Isabeau his dagger, along with a promise that he's not gonna do that, and Isabeau does seem happier!

So off they go through Dormont. Isabeau stops farther back on the path just a bit before the bend, where he won't be able to see Siffrin or overhear casual conversation, but could definitely hear a shout and coming running. And Siffrin goes to the tree, and sees the coin, and... twohats ensues! The dialogue is somewhat different, though, because they never did entirely figure it out in the end, did they? They had started learning about wish craft, but Loop hadn't quite connected it yet and of course Siffrin refused to look at their own wish. And then, what a dramatic final loop!

So. More along the lines of, "That was it? Really? You just had to kill yourself in front of them to get everything you ever wanted? To break the loops? To never be alone again? To guilt them into staying forever, because they think you're going to slit your own blinding throat if they let you out of their sight? Sure! Whatever it takes! Never let anyone tell you suicide threats don't work~" and "Do you know how many times I killed myself? How many more times I died?? Did I just not do it right? Wrong time, wrong place? Did I not suffer enough? Was I not selfish enough? What did I do wrong!! Why do you get to escape and not me! I deserve this happy ending, not you!! Why do you get to stay with them and not me!!!"

But, hm. Loop was kinda really raising their voice there at the end, weren't they?

Loop's voice still sounds a bit odd — part inhuman form, part new habit, part intense emotion — but, they're not putting active effort into keeping up the mask right now. Not when they're this upset. Not when Siffrin already knows. And Isabeau hasn't seen Loop yet; he just heard their voice. And a couple of the things that voice said.

So Isabeau makes it around that corner while Loop is speaking more quietly. And then Loop says "STARS, killing you will make me SO HAPPY," and Siffrin reaches for their dagger and freezes as he realizes and remembers it's gone, and Isabeau speeds up, and Loop looks up and see him and freezes too.

And Isabeau says, "Sif?? I thought you promised you weren't going to kill yourself over here???"

Long story short, Loop panics and runs, Siffrin follows while shouting things trying to convince them to come back, so of course Isabeau follows too, and Siffrin almost collapses because they're still craft exhausted. Loop gives up and lets them catch up, and I do mean gives up, they just wanna lay down and die, if you can't go out with a bang there's nothing wrong with a whimper. But Siffrin and Isabeau refuse to leave them there, so they wait around and talk at them, and then run out of things to say and wait some more. Eventually Mirabelle finds them and she's very upset and glad they're okay, and at that point Loop gives up on giving up and quietly follows them back to Dormont, so Siffrin won't get himself more sick and all his friends more worried, staying out in the forest all night.

And so! The party knows who Loop is from the very start, but not anything about the time loops! Just that something very strange must have happened, to end up with two Siffrins and one of them a star.

[daily-memory-of-touch]

Sorry i never played this game and don't intend on to but. Could you explain what's the meaning of this scene in fortnite terms (no more seriously actually wondering about the context or whatever. If you don't mind spoiling this random anon. Ty)

Okay so leading up to this scene is Siffrin (hat + cloak fella, uses he/they) reliving the same Fortnite game over and over because he's in a time loop. He and his squad mates (Mirabelle, she/her; Isabeau, he/him; Odile, she/her; Bonnie, they/them) are the last ones alive aside from a few other players. There's a griefer on the server named the King (he/him) that they gotta defeat and the party has rallied the entire server against him. Not everyone has the best gear for the job so that's why it's up to the party to defeat him. The King is making the storm disconnect you from the server if you in it for too long

So Siffrin has been in this loop of playing Fortnite for a while now. The King has placed himself in a big structure and set up traps to try and catch the party off-guard, and every time the party (or just Siffrin) dies and can't be revived time loops back. With the help of Loop (they/them), a knowledgeable gamer who's aware of the loops, the two of them have been in a separate VC figuring out how to handle all of this (Loop gives advice and Siffrin does their best)

At this point Siffrin is pretty sick of the time loop. They actually have beaten the King a few times, but even if the party gets their 1# Victory Royale time still loops back. Every morning the party actually meets in-person to grab lunch before heading back to game. Siffrin and Isabeau have been pining over each other for a while now and the time loop makes Siffrin's yearning worse and worse, especially since Isabeau (and the rest of the party as well) think that Siffrin is touch-adverse when in reality he just gets surprised by sudden touch and is just touch-starved

So before everyone else gets to the shop they all eat together at it's just Isabeau and Siffrin. The two of them are having a convo they have every loop, which in the middle of it includes Isabeau going to put a hand on Siffrin's shoulder but then pulling back when he remembers that he should respect their space. This has been bothering Siffrin the entire time loop, and on this loop he has certified had it and doesn't want to feel stuck anymore. So, without wanting he grabs Isabeau by the collar and kisses him. Isabeau immediately pushes Siffrin away, but his actual reaction is unclear because Siffrin then loops back to right before he made that impulsive choice and the convo goes on like normal. It's unknown if Isabeau reacted like that out of surprise or disgust or any other emotion. Siffrin and Loop later talk about this during this loop and Loop isn't happy with them

Not relevant to the rest of the post but Siffrin and Loop tend to meet up for breakfast separately from the rest of the party, but if they don't meet up Siffrin just makes something at home to eat. Sometimes they'll grab a quick coffee together if they talk mid-day before the Fortnite gaming session. It's not important but the detail matters to me as to how those two have irl talks

[savvyreyes4587]

Feed My Hunger. Feed My Soul.

PM!Dazai x Fem!Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Fem!Reader

Summary: The conflict with the serpents' den was nearing its end but so were you, the only issue was no one knew what was wrong or how they could fix it but what if you knew what was wrong and you didn't know if you wanted to fix it.

Author's note: Look at me updating after four months or so, lol. So anyways, here is chapter six, I hope u enjoy it also if you notice small things in the storyline changing please ignore it, I'm just learning more about BSD so yeah, don't hesitate to comment lol.

Taglist: @v15aexe @hotwomanlythings @zaushimo @mintyymao @destinyisastar @lilyosamu @vette-01 @mimiimmii

Chuuya was sitting on the couch in your living room, legs crossed while one of his hands rubbed his forehead, his headaches were becoming more frequent and with your state, they would become an everyday occurrence.

Kouyou and Hirotsu were also with him, the demure woman sat on the couch opposite Chuuya while Hirotsu was standing in front of the apartment windows, seeming to be deep in thought.

"So she's lost it?" Kouyou asked, her voice calm and smooth like honey, meant to give comfort but only those close knew she had an ability strong enough to make one crawl in fear.

Chuuya turned his gaze to her, somewhat offended on your behalf as he answered. "She didn't lose it."

The red haired woman rasied an eyebrow at his quick defense of you and he huffed before he spoke again.

"Something is going on with her, even since those serpents appeared she was fighting all that she could and I saw that she was growing weaker but she couldn't stand at first…"

"Then?"

"Then… she started becoming delirious, saying things that didn't make a scratch of sense, as if she was talking to someone only she was seeing, after that she collapsed and Dazai seemed to understand something and have been by her side ever since."

Before either of the older members could speak their minds, the door to your bedroom opened, revealing their boss, Mori Ogai, his face devoid of emotions but Chuuya only focused on the fact that Dazai wasn't with him.

"Boss?" Chuuya spoke as he moved towards him and he had to double take the sight he saw, his blue eyes wide open.

There you were on the bed, black veins covering your body, face pale and entire being looking fragile enough to break in a mere touch, beside you was Dazai Osmau, his hand grabbing yours tightly and at first glance it didn't make sense but when one looked closer…

Is he nullifying her ability? Chuuya wondered.

"Unfortunately Chuuya-kun, it doesn't look like I could be of help at all… whatever is happening to our precious Weaver isn't something a doctor can cure." Mori explained while eyeing you the same way Chuuya was doing.

Chuuya didn't even realise that Kouyou and Hirotsu were standing there as well as he looked at Dazai for an explanation, something inside him nagging at his emotions… he didn't like seeing you like this.

Dazai's eyes were glued to your sleeping form, as if trying to decipher you. "Whatever is happening to her is something only she can fix, she doesn't get worse when I'm nullifying her ability, in other words-"

"Her ability is killing her." Kouyou continued and the silence between them now was deafening, what could they do when the only person who knew how to stop it wasn't waking up.

Chuuya pursed his lips, hands tightened to fists by his sides, feeling utterly helpless and something inside him was snapping, flashbacks of his own self going through his mind and then it all clicked in place.

The last fight that led you to this, was your fight with that girl, the enforcer of the serpents' den, she did that to you somehow and she was going to undo it.

Dazai's voice filled the void around them. "Chuuya, make her talk, no matter the cost."

"You're not coming?"

At that, Dazai smiled bitterly. "Me leaving her side is me killing her."

Chuuya could only nod, his throat tight at the thought that your fate was now lying in his hands and he would be damned if he let you die on his watch.

Confident footsteps could be heard in the dem space, clicking on the ground with force and making everyone's mind high on alert, some because they knew who was there and for her, because she didn't know what to expect.

The subordinates who were guarding her moved away as soon as the shadow of a certain figure appeared, and she had to try and make it look as if she wasn't at least a bit scared to see him.

Nakahara Chuuya, the gravity manipulator, the previous king of the sheep and the sharp color of his eyes was blazing like a wolf as he took step after step until he was looking down at her and she tried her best to hold his glare.

"Who are you?" Chuuya's voice was laced with a sharp edge that could split people open and she tried her best not to flinch, her wrists burning from the ropes around them and her body numb from all the sitting.

But even through her fear, she knew better, not answering him would only cause more trouble for her circle, she couldn't have that… and there was no one better than her to lead the port mafia on.

"Rinako Sable." Her voice didn't waver, not even for a second, showcasing a false strength inside of her but she also knew that she still saw nothing from the port mafia.

Thus far, they just had her with them, just a prisoner whose fate was yet to be determined but the gears in her were starting to turn faster.

The gravity manipulator gazed at one of the guards who hastily brought him a chair from the dark corners of the basement they were in, Chuuya, hands still stuffed in his pockets, took a seat in front of Rinako.

"Sable…" It almost sounded like he was testing out the name, or perhaps the time weaver had already spoken of what she knew to them and they already knew about the one and only.

"What are you after, Rinako?" He was eerily calm that it made her skin crawl with discomfort, why was he that calm while speaking to an executive in an opposite crime organisation?

Rinako chose silence this time, measuring her words as if she was trading on hefty thin ice and she was, in a way. Any words she said felt like it could set off the strongest ability user and she couldn't afford to die, not yet.

She leaned back in her prison chair, a small smirk on her lips. "A rival criminal organisation, what could we possibly want other than the port mafia's downfall."

Chuuya smiled, but it was a mocking one. "You're like… eight months late. The dragon's head conflict would have been a good time."

"We prefer to be the only stars of the show, sharing the spotlight isn't our thing." Rinako argued, withholding his striking blue eyes and if they weren't on opposite sides she would have given going out with him a thought.

And for the first time since he barged into the basement she actually noticed the small tension in his body, hsi muscles looked stiff and his hands, even inside his pockets were straining against his pants, his jaw clenched as he eyed her warily and it all clicked in her mind.

"She's dying… isn't she? That's why you're here." His gaze turned rough for a moment and she knew she hit the jackpot and she made note of the fact that Nakahara Chuuya cared enough about the Weaver to show off his concern, even slightly.

"You did something when you fought her a week ago-"

"Oh, you mean plucking out her ropes… that was usually child's play." Rinako's eyes widened at her slip up, how could she be so stupid? and she knew that Chuuya noticed it with the way he turned his full attention to her.

"Usually?"

"What do you want from me?" She asked, hoping he would drop it and his attention would go back to his little weaver.

"Undo what you did, Sable." Chuuya ordered, his patience reaching its last thread and he was seconds away from losing his mind.

Rinako shook her head. "I can't-"

"Don't Bullshit me-"

"I can't but she can, she already knows how to cure herself." Rinako yelled out, thrashing in the chair, trying to defend herself.

Chuuya looked as confused as ever and so Rinako explained. "You see those ropes all over her body?"

He nodded.

"Those aren't just ropes… those are souls and they are her lifeline."

"What?"

"The time Weaver wasn't born, she was made. Her ability being no gift and so on comes at a cost, to live and keep using her ability she must take a payment… souls, that she turns into whatever she desires within her powers, such as the ropes of time as she used to call them."

Chuuya felt a lump in his throat and he found it hard to breathe. "She was experimented on?"

With a sigh, Rinako nodded. "Think of it as a trade, a life for a life. There is a hunger inside her that needs to be fed and there is no way around it, the more power she uses, the hungrier she gets."

"H-how does it happen? The process of taking souls."

"She does all the work, just give her someone and she will suck the life out of them until she inhales the souls orb that leaves their dead bodies."

"Then why didn't she do it? You said she knows how to so why-"

"She's not the only thing living inside herself… the hunger inside, it's from whatever it is that gave her the power she has… it needs to be sedated and those souls are its salvations… but the more she feeds the more… that thing takes hold of her."

Before Chuuya could talk she continued. "Plus, she never believed in taking an innocent soul so that she could live, her conscience still alive unlike me."

Chuuya could only shake his head in disbelief… "How do you know all of this?"

"Does it matter?"

"Hell yes, it does."

Rinako looked to the side, blinking away the tears threatening to fall. "Because…"

Something was utterly wrong, you could feel that something was wrong but you couldn't place what or why you felt that.

You looked around and it seemed like you were standing in a very empty and foggy space, it was rather scary and your own voice echoed through the empty space when you talked.

"Is anyone here?" The same sentence repeated over and over again into the nothingness you were in and against your better judgement, you started moving forward, hoping to understand a little of what was happening.

The last few days had been hell for you, your body dying and your mind blurring, things that might be and things that shall never be mixed together, fragments of memories coming and going without a single way to help you understand what was happening.

The Serpents' den were such an exhausting rival, relentless to get to you without any success due to the circle of protection Dazai put you in yet she still found an opening and got you… Rinako.

You didn't remember her at first, your memories were always bits and pieces yet you placed it all together and remembered her but it didn't matter after she tore down your ropes, taking away your ability to simply live.

Keisuke always warned you to be careful of those who knew how you were made but you never believed she would hurt you that much one day and hurt you she did… who could you trust? You didn't know.

'I don't want to.' A small, broken voice said and it had you turning to look behind you faster than light, knowing damn well what was happening now.

Everytime it happened, the same nightmare.

'My little weaver, you have to.' Red, manipulative eyes were looking at the little girl with so much adoration it almost had you fooled from where you stood, watching the memory unfold but you knew better… because you were that young girl one day.

'I'll hurt him.' Little you spoke again, her eyes tearing up at the thought of doing such thing to someone yet Evelyn only tsked at that and knelt down to be on younger you's level.

Evelyn shook her head. 'No, on the contrary, you'll relieve him from his pain, he'll be thankful to you.'

'A-are you sure?' Your heart broke for your younger self, so naive, so….broken as you wondered back then if you believed Evelyn’s words because you thought she was telling the truth or simply to avoid her wrath.

Still Evelyn nodded and so did little, the all familiar ropes stretching from under your veins and into the wounded man in front of you, wrapping all over his body like a soothing touch before it started happening.

A once young face turning all wrinkly and old, thinning and decaying in the matter of second, body turning into bones and those loud whimpers turned quiet then he stopped moving all together as a circular shaped thing appeared in the air and you took in your hand.

Bringing it closer to your mouth as your lips fell open and you took a long, large inhale, the orb disappearing little by little before it was completely gone and another rope shot out of your body… a new soul and tears ran down your face at the memory.

'See… you saved him from his pain.' Evelyn’s eyes shined with renowned interest, you were going to be her legacy… her greatest creation.

Suddenly multiple voices were heard around in the void you were standing in, they were panicked voices, your name being called over and over again that had you covering your ears with your hands and clenching your eyes shut.

"WAKE UP!" And your eyes opened with that command, body shooting up into a sitting position, to find yourself back in your room, your right hand held in by someone as the terrified eyes of Chuuya caught yours as he stepped closer.

The hand holding yours tightened its hold and you turned to find Dazai, his eyes filled with emptiness you had never seen before and you started panicking inside… What happened when you were asleep?… How long were you asleep?

Your name was called by that familiar voice and your eyes widened as you turned to look at her… Rinako.

"W-what are you doing here? What's happening-" Your protests were cut off when your vision darkened for a second and you laid back down on the bed as you tried to regain your strength.

Yet Rinako still answered you, her voice breaking. "Your heart stopped beating… you almost died."

"You should have let it happen, I won't-"

"Yes, you will." Dazai's voice was cold, distant and terrifying as he gazed into your unhinged eyes.

How did he know… Rinako… she told them… she told them everything…

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[itsnesss]

Heyy, can you do a miguel diaz x drunk reader? He is holding her hair back, making sure she doesn't text people, and cuddling. love you bye!!!

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 | miguel diaz × fem!reader

summary | at the party, you get drunk and feel unwell. miguel, without judging you, stays by your side, taking care of you as you go through the discomfort and embarrassment of the situation

warnings | alcohol consumption and intoxication, vomiting, embarrassment, mild body discomfort, mild language

word count | 1.7 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You're at a party at Miguel's house. A party that started like any other, with laughter, loud music, and the smell of pizza in the air. But now, the atmosphere has changed. People have scattered, some are dancing, others are talking in small groups. You… well, you don’t even know when you drank so much.

One drink after another, and here you are, a little dizzy, your head spinning like it's floating in the air. You feel light, but not in a good way. Suddenly, someone’s laughter brings you back to the present, and you realize you’ve wandered off from the group without noticing. Miguel is nearby, looking at something on his phone, as if waiting for you to do something.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone soft and concerned, yet with that usual playful touch.

You try to smile, but what comes out is more of a clumsy grimace.

“Of course, everything’s perfect,” you say, but your voice sounds more like a dragged whisper.

He looks at you, clearly unconvinced, and gestures for you to come closer.

“Come on, let’s sit for a bit.”

You agree, because what you want most right now is not to be standing, and you follow him to the couch where you slump down like a sack of potatoes. Miguel sits next to you but doesn’t say anything, just watches as you take your face in your hands, trying to clear the fog in your mind. You laugh, because apparently, alcohol has this ability to make you feel incredibly clumsy and at the same time hilarious.

“You know? I never thought you’d see me like this,” you murmur, watching how the lights in the room shine strangely, like they’re part of a dream.

Miguel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he places a hand on your back, a gesture that feels more protective than anything else. You feel safe, despite being completely out of control.

“Why did you drink so much?” he asks, his voice mixed with a slight laugh, but with some concern.

You shrug, too drunk to really give a coherent answer.

“I don’t know, I just felt… I felt good, you know…” you stammer, but soon you feel the dizziness intensifying. Something inside you tells you this isn’t going to end well.

Before you can do anything, the sensation becomes more urgent, and a wave of nausea invades your stomach. In a blink, you cover your mouth with your hand, but it’s too late. The impulse is too strong, and your stomach churns. Unable to stop it, you lean to the side, vomiting on the floor nearby.

Miguel reacts immediately. He doesn’t step away, doesn’t criticize you. Instead, he gently places his hand on your back, rubbing it in circles, while you hold your head with the other hand, trying to keep things from getting worse.

“Calm down, everything will be fine,” he murmurs, and his tone has that warm, comforting quality, as if it’s no trouble for him to take care of you right now.

Your breathing is uneven, and the nausea doesn’t subside. You feel a mix of embarrassment and discomfort, but somehow, Miguel makes you feel less vulnerable. Someone else might be laughing or criticizing, but not him. He stays there, patiently.

When the vomiting finally stops, you sigh in relief and lean against him, too weak to move. Miguel quickly gets up, grabs a towel from the table, and wets it before placing it on your forehead, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I’ve got you, okay?” he says softly, rubbing your back as you settle back into the couch.

The lights keep flashing, but now, instead of seeming chaotic, they feel softer, as if the world has shrunk to just you and Miguel. You lie down a bit, seeking some relief, and the guy sits beside you, never moving an inch.

Sometimes, people get uncomfortable with drunk people. Some judge you, others walk away, but he… he’s just there, being Miguel.

“Do you have your phone?” he asks calmly after a moment of silence.

You force yourself to search for it, though your fingers aren’t managing to find the right way.

“I can’t…” you try to say, but your hands aren’t cooperating.

Miguel takes the phone from your hands, with the agility and care that only he knows how to use.

“Are you sending messages to someone you shouldn’t?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You frown. You don’t know why, but you feel the need to explain yourself.

“No… I don’t know, I think not…” you stammer, and although your words don’t make much sense, Miguel seems to understand perfectly what’s going on.

He checks your phone and smiles, as if he’s realized something you don’t understand yet.

“Don’t do it,” he says, showing you the message you just sent.

It’s a silly, nonsensical message, the kind you only send when you’re completely out of it. But you don’t feel too embarrassed, because Miguel is looking at you with a smile that’s warmer than mocking.

He takes the phone from your hands and puts it away, making sure you can’t do anything more with it. Then he turns back to you, and all you can see on his face is that affection with which he’s looking at you.

“I’m staying with you,” he says, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don’t want you to do anything else foolish, okay?”

You slowly nod, and without saying more, Miguel helps you stand up, guiding you carefully to the bathroom. The air in the hallway is cooler, which gives you some relief. You don’t need to say anything; he understands what’s happening. Before you can process what’s going on, you’re already standing in front of the toilet, and a new impulse makes you lean over, your body rebelling once again.

Miguel doesn’t hesitate to follow you. As soon as you lean over the toilet, he’s there, behind you. With a swift movement, he holds your hair gently, moving it away from your face with the same tenderness he would use if he were caring for you under any other circumstances.

“Calm down, just keep breathing,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle, as if he were the only person who could calm you down right now.

The pain in your stomach is unbearable, but the warmth of his hand on your back gives you some comfort. You feel his touch like an anchor in the midst of chaos, a gesture that makes you feel safe, even when your body is struggling to maintain control.

Every time a new tremor shakes your body, he’s there, holding you, making sure you don’t fall into either embarrassment or discomfort. Meanwhile, his fingers keep rubbing your back in small circles, a soothing touch that helps you endure the pain and discomfort.

Time seems to stand still. Between the sounds of vomiting and the distant echo of the party music, the only thing you can hear is his calm voice, which somehow gives you the courage to keep going.

When the discomfort finally passes, you lean on the sink, breathing heavily but feeling relieved. Miguel stays by your side, with that understanding expression that never leaves his face. No matter how bad or embarrassed you feel, he’s there, never leaving.

“I feel so bad…” you murmur, exhaustion beginning to take over.

He looks at you and smiles, with a soft laugh that calms you down.

“Don’t worry, it happens to everyone at some point,” he responds, as if there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about. And in that moment, you realize he’s right.

He helps you get back up, guiding you to the couch, where you finally lie down, exhausted but more relieved than before. Miguel sits beside you, always close, always there.

“Don’t worry about anything,” he says, gently stroking your hair.

[atefingersdagger]

Gloss would likely be looking at Cashmere and thinking, "How could I let my sister go into the Games after what it did to me? Was it because it was only a year difference? Would giving the Capitol karma for hurting her help to heal me?"

Maybe he'd feel like retribution would help "fix" him, ease the guilt in some twisted way because once the Capitol knows how it feels, they'll truly apologize for everything. Right?

Perhaps:

"I'm going to vote a 'yes'." Gloss moves his jaw that's been set for a while.

Cashmere shoots him a look, blonde brows knitting together like the fabric she's named after. "What? You can't be serious."

"I'm very serious."

"Why?"

"Because of what the Capitol has done to us. Put us through. What they've forced us into. They took our youth, maybe it's time to take theirs."

"This," Cashmere shakes her head. "This isn't you, brother. We know better. It's a perpetual cycle, and it can't continue."

"You're voting no, then?"

"Of course I'm voting no." His sister says, voice raising into the girlish octave she's known for when upset. "I'm tired of the bloodshed."

"I want the Capitol to take true responsibility!"

The disagreement is far more than a family squabble. Not just the usual sibling issues of who gets the television longest or who is the favorite child in the eyes or the parents. No, this is worse than any argument they've had prior, and it hurts far more than any nasty comment over the years. Let alone that it's in a room full of others.

"And I just want my brother back!"

Cashmere doesn't slam her hands on the table to prove her point. What makes her clear is her crying, the tears that have gathered, causing her brother to lower his shoulders and to rethink everything entirely, even if briefly. If there's anything Gloss hates the most, it's seeing his sister this way.

They had already taken him away many times, and in many ways before, perhaps it's time he truly began the journey home.

-

I don't write these two much, so I'm unsure of the characterization, and the argument would likely last longer/be more disasterous, but I think it's fun to think of how this argument might go down.

Does anyone have au ideas for where cashmere and gloss don't die and make it to the when katniss destroy the arena and cashmere is rescued by 13 but gloss is captured by the capitol along with peeta and Johanna?

I just think katniss could have bonded with cashmere seeing as they both wouldn't have had an idea about the rebels plot and both would lose a loved one to the capitol

And what would the siblings vote be on a last hunger games with the capitol's children

Sorry it's just cashmere and gloss are one of my favourite backgrounds characters and I feel like they had massive amounts of plotinal and I just wish they were used more

[miscgallery]

relationship web of the 7 sillies that are occupying my brain's storage space

[archerstreet]

i think growing up is just life repeatedly sucker punching you and saying bitch you thought things were gonna better lmao no you're so naive and stupid for having hope in 20 years the world will be flaming bag of garbage and no matter how hard you work you'll get eliminated at some point