#Probably some lucky civilians

[tornrose24]

I had an idea for cu secret superhero au. Sooth-Slipper could be the leader of the few survivors of the destroyed underpantyworld.

It’s possible there could be survivors, but they definitely didn’t land on Earth or else things would play out quite differently in Piqua. Plus they’d be able to recognize one of their own really quick.

That and I don’t think they would have adapted to Earth customs as easily, as they wouldn’t even bother trying to wear regular clothes as a disguise. Unless they decide to model for Victoria’s Secret and any other known underwear brands.

Plus I think it’s be regular citizens who would escape, instead of the rich like in most apocalypse fiction. (Especially because most of the wealthy in Underpantyworld are amongst the dumbest of the population in this AU).

As for the Sooth-Slipper…. whose to say she’s still alive?

[antiwhores]

You accidentally had sex with Bakugou.

You two had fallen asleep in his room after a hang out. You were bestfriends but you had some underlining feelings for him. So when you woke up in the middle of the night to him cuddling you, you almost choked.

You needed to pee really bad so sadly you had to pry yourself out of his arms. When you came back his eyes were cracked open just barely. He mumbled something before opening his arms for you to join him again.

It was out of character, maybe tired Bakugou was just a touchy guy. It couldn’t be more than that.

So you joined him on the bed. You buried your face into his neck. You had to savor this cause most likely this’ll be the last time this happens. Also, you were too tired to freak out. You just wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

You can barely explain what happened after that. He hiked your leg onto him, still with his half open eyes, and thrusted right against your clothed pussy.

The next thing you know, he’s dry humping you. And then he’s fingering you. And finally he’s fucking you.

It felt good, too good.

But the morning after? You felt embarrassed. No way you just fucked him without even a first date. He’s gonna think you’re easy. He might even tell everyone that you are.

Of course, that would never happen but you were panicked. You couldn’t possibly comprehend that the great Dynamight chose you. You weren’t famous. Not a vogue model, a hero, or even wealthy. You had nothing to give him.

He had to be messing with you.

So you slipped out of his hold at 5am sharp and went home.

You fell back to sleep in tears and woke up to several texts and calls. Good thing you had your ringer off.

Bakugou - 6:34am

Where’d you go?

I was gonna make you breakfast dumbass

Bakugou - 6:52

Y/n?

Missed call - 7:00am

Bakugou - 7:30

Is this about last night?

I’ll wait for that call back so we can talk about it.

Missed call - 10:03am

Bakugou - 10:05

Call me and we can talk about it. This ignoring me isn’t gonna make it go away.

Missed call - 11:12

Missed call - 11:26

Missed call - 11-31

Bakugou - 11:40

Fucking call me back, this shit isn’t funny.

You’re so lucky I don’t know where you live yet. I’d be there in 15 minutes if I knew.

You debated calling him back. But your embarrassment and anger stopped you from letting him explain himself. How could he use your feelings against you like that! He probably knew that you liked him and wanted a quick fuck.

You started to cry all over again.

A week passed by with no contact. He sent you the occasional text telling you to talk to him but after the 6th day he seemed to give up. At least you thought that until he showed up at your door.

You opened the door wide without checking who it was since you were expecting a package. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blonde leaning against the doorframe, still in his hero costume. He must’ve just gotten off work, saving civilians and climbing the charts. It was another reminder of how he could never want you.

“You gonna let me in or am I-“

You tried to slam the door in his face but he shoved it back open easily. He let himself in, scanning the place.

“Nice place, ‘don’t see why you hadn’t invited me over.”

Maybe it’s because your small, cosy apartment didn’t compare to his high rise penthouse at the top floor.

You grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out. But he wasn’t having it and didn’t let you move him an inch.

“You need to leave, Bakugou.”

“Wow. Last name basis and I was inside you a week ago.”

“Yeah well that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Okay but it did so let’s fuckin’ talk about it.”

You just wanted him to leave before you bursted out in tears. You shook your head, trying to pull him harder but to no avail. Your lip quivered in frustration as tears welled up in your eyes.

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and set you on the couch.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

You broke down in tears.

You told him everything, every assumption you made and every insecurity. You told him how you liked him but you knew he didn’t like you back. He sat there patiently, not speaking a word until you were done.

He got up with a blank face. You thought he was gonna leave at first but he kneeled down to be eye to eye with you.

“Wanna go on a date?”

It surprised you. It was the last thing he expected you to say.

“I’ll take you on a date and prove to you how much I want you. And for the record, I’ve probably liked you longer than you have me. When we met in that coffee shop I immediately knew you were the one I wanted. ‘S rude of you of you to make assumptions but I’ll let it pass if you go on a date with me.”

You agreed as he wiped off your tears. Who were you to say no?

[yanderismo]

Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)

BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 

— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 

— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).

— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.

 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.

— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.

 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 

— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 

— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.

 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.

 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 

— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)

— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.

 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 

— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 

— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.

— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 

— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 

— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 

— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 

— Batman can definitely help you solve this.

(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)

Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)

(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)

[katsukistofu]

my caffeine mix-up! pt. ii

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ hawks x fem reader. fluff. slightly suggestive. you accidentally pick up the number two hero’s coffee so picks you up instead. | part i

note: fukuoka is the canon location of hawks hero agency

You stare at the text for what embarrassingly feels like at least the tenth time this hour.

pick you up at 8 ;)

Was sent mere moments ago from the contact Hawks, that had several hearts next to his name that you don’t remember him putting, saved in your phone after he dropped you off at work this morning.

Nearly giving your coworkers who just so happened to be looking out the windows at the time synchronized heart attacks in their cubicles, which would’ve been very hard to explain to your boss.

Who, thank All Might, was not here today.

But the millisecond you walked out of the elevator onto your floor, their nosy natures quickly won over their states of disbelief.

Desperate for the juicy details, nothing could stop them from swarming you like a group of hungry piranhas, and you’re flooded with a sea of questions you’re simply at a loss for how to answer.

“How did you meet him?” “So when’s the wedding?” “Were you rescued in a villain attack that wasn’t on the news yet?” “Oh my god, did you two—?”

“Guys!” You cut them off with a frantic wave of your hands, you did not need to hear the end of that sentence. “We just happened to meet. I, uh.”

Your coworkers look at you with expectant eyes, eagerly waiting to hear your no doubt heart-racing meet-cute story with the hero so popular, that when the paparazzi got a picture of him sipping kombucha tea, the drink went out of stock in stores nationwide faster than you could even say its name.

“I accidentally took his coffee order.”

You cringe a bit as you finish, and you’re met with the most comically shocked faces you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“You WHAT!?”

“Damn I literally just tweeted ‘my coworker stole Hawks’s coffee’ and it already has a hundred reposts.”

“Oh honey, you’re lucky our boss is out sick today. He’d fire you for that.”

“Yeah, Hawks is his all-time favorite on the charts since All Might.”

You groan. “I know! He was so nice about it too, I still feel bad.”

“You should be.”

All your coworkers simultaneously glare at your company’s front desk receptionist that somehow snuck up to your floor, who for some reason takes that as a signal to continue.

“I could never be illiterate enough to take his order if I was in that coffee shop.”

“No one cares, Janet,” everyone says in deadpanned unison.

Janet huffs and turns to leave, but not before pointedly throwing another withering look at you.

She never did like you ever since you politely corrected her grammar in that passive aggressive email she sent when you were a new hire.

Not illiterate your ass.

Throughout the day, you answer more emails, calls, and print papers in a daze.

When you go to forward an email, all you can think about is how his strong arms felt on your waist. When you go retrieve ink to refill the printer, all you can think about is his gentle yet firm grip that he had on your thighs.

This could not be healthy.

But what if it was? You’ve never been touched so intimately, so softly before, like you were something precious, even in your fleeting experiences with relationships.

No one’s made you feel this safe like he does from just being in their presence.

But you blame that on him being a hero. He was probably trained on how to calm civilians down, especially during rescues.

You don’t really think that applied to people who stole his coffee, but maybe that was just you trying to feel special.

With a shake of your head, you straighten yourself in your chair. You had to get it together.

No more thoughts of Hawks on company time until it’s time to clock out!

But it seems like the winged flirt had other plans.

hawks ♡♡♡ [12:00]

hey

[sent an image]

hawks ♡♡♡ [12:01]

saw a pretty flower on

someone’s roof and it

reminded me of you :)

You freeze when you see the notification pop up, mid-bite through the food that you picked up from your favorite aesthetically pleasing cafe for lunch.

With a mouthful of sandwich, you click on the message to text back, when suddenly the realization hits you.

You had no idea what to wear for the date.

Oh my god, what were you even supposed to wear? Was there some kind of etiquette for this?

I mean, it’s not like he’s taking you to the Hero Gala. It’s just a higher end homey sushi and ramen place, but still.

Pinterest probably didn’t have “cute date outfit ideas for going out with the freaking number two hero” in their search results.

In your mind, you nervously run through different casual but still elegant clothes to wear. Maybe that nice blouse you had been saving, the one with the ruffles on the sleeves? You bite the inside of your cheek. No, maybe your classy sleeveless turtleneck midi dress instead?

Ugh, but you’ve already worn it out too many times last month. Not to mention the current ninety degree weather would cook you alive in that.

You pray that the paparazzi wouldn’t dare to stalk you on your date, but imagine if they did and took a picture of you two?

Caption: Hawks takes girl that never wears anything else out on date.

Even worse, caption: Hawks seen taking girl that can’t dress if her life depended on it out on date.

Nope, not on your watch.

The further you brainstormed, the more each piece of your wardrobe seemed less and less fitting to wear for such an occasion.

An idea pops into your head.

What was Hawks’s favorite color? You could base an outfit off of that instead.

Thinking about it, it was probably red. Hell, if you had pretty crimson wings like him you’d forget every other color in the rainbow.

Should you text him and ask?

After a little mental wrestling yourself, you muster up all the courage you could possibly have on a Monday afternoon.

[12:20]

you

that’s so cute :((((

thank you <3

you

also random but what’s

your favorite color?

hawks ♡♡♡

ooh we playing twenty questions? ;)

you

lol i guess we are ;)

hawks ♡♡♡

hmmm ok then

hawks ♡♡♡

my favorite colors

probablyyy red

you

i knew it

hawks ♡♡♡

oh?

hawks ♡♡♡

been thinking about me

have you, pretty girl?

you

……..maybe

hawks ♡♡♡

you’re so cute when

you get all shy

Your cheeks warm at that, and you physically have to put down your phone for a moment to cool off.

[12:34]

hawks ♡♡♡

my turn

hawks ♡♡♡

whatcha having for lunch?

you

[sent an image]

sandwich :)

hawks ♡♡♡

ooh that looks yummy

you

it is!!!!

you

it’s from the cafe across

the one where i nabbed

your coffee lol

hawks ♡♡♡

ah when fate brought

us together by my overly

sweet latte

hawks ♡♡♡

i’ll make sure to stop by

it after patrol tomorrow :)

you

yay!!! lmk what you think

i want a full review

hawks ♡♡♡

yes ma’am (︶▽︶)7

you

what are you having for lunch?

hawks ♡♡♡

[sent an image]

just chicken lol

Of course he was. It did look good. The fried edges were perfectly crispy, and it was a nice golden brown color and—

hawks ♡♡♡

but i wish it was you instead ;)

you

!!!!!?1!?)$1&1$@-

hawks ♡♡♡

aw, you embarassed right now?

you

YESOHMYHOF???

you

YOU CANR JUST

SAY THAT

hawks ♡♡♡

whyyy nottt

hawks ♡♡♡

it’s true though! :(

you

oh my god i’m going to die

you

and this sandwich is

going to be my last meal

hawks ♡♡♡

noo don’t die

you

i will

hawks ♡♡♡

id miss you :(

you

then know that it

was all YOUR fault.

hawks ♡♡♡

pffft you're so cute

hawks ♡♡♡

wish i could see your

flustered face right now

you

STOP

you

i think i'm going to

have to block you

you

this isn’t good for my heart

hawks ♡♡♡

D:

hawks ♡♡♡

noooooooo!!!!!!

come backkkk!!

You had to bite back a fond giggle, feeling warm all over. How was it fair for him to be this cute over text and in person?

hawks ♡♡♡

okok but before you block me

which i don’t think you will

hawks ♡♡♡

send me your address so

i know where to pick up the

most beautiful girl alive <3

you

oh u smooth ass mf

hawks ♡♡♡

for you? always

you

UGHHH

fine here it is

you

123-4567 fukuoka, tenjin,

chuo ward, 8-91

hawks ♡♡♡

perfect

see you soon birdie ;)

After an eventful day at work, you’re turned around, glancing at your back in the mirror.

Even though the scarlet dress that falls just below your knees hugs your figure in all the right places, you still feel a little self-conscious in it.

You honestly haven’t touched it since you bought it at the mall with a friend, who insisted that red was your color even when you had wrinkled your nose.

But as you admire the smooth, soft fabric of it now, you can’t help but be reminded of a certain someone’s beautiful wings.

You think you were really starting to warm up to the color.

A spritz of your favorite perfume and slight touch up of your makeup later, you hear a knock on the door to your balcony.

That must be him!

You excitedly unlock the sliding glass, and you’re finally greeted with the sight of Hawks’s signature grin that you missed all day.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hi,” you say back, a bit breathlessly.

As if you were the one who flew all across the city just to see him.

He takes the moment to look you up and down, not in a hungry, lustful way like you’re used to when you’re around other men, even when you’re not exposing much skin.

Hawks admires you.

Like you’re a statue of a goddess, made of the most pristine marble. Like you’re a beautiful cherry blossom tree at peak bloom, with the wind serenading your soft pink petals.

Like you’re something so divinely beautiful and enchanting, you deserve to be revered.

“Wow.” Hawks opens his mouth, but no other sound comes out. The bouquet he’s hiding behind his back for you goes limp in his hand.

For a man who never runs out of words to say, he’s been rendered speechless.

There’s a tingle of anxiety at your neck and you’re suddenly a little nervous. “How—How do I look?”

Hawks takes a deep breath, and finally speaks.

“You look absolutely, astoundingly gorgeous.”

Hawks’s lips curve upwards softly when you visibly melt, his touch sweeter than the caramel of his eyes as a hand tips your chin up to meet his warm gaze that the summer heat had nothing on. 

“And that’s the least interesting about you.”

─────────

“This is really good.”

Is what you ultimately decide when you’re on the fourth piece of the unagi roll you ordered.

Hawks grins, you looked cute with your cheeks puffed up like that. “Isn’t it? I knew you’d like it.”

You nod while covering your mouth, chewing slowly to savor the delectable taste of the sushi. “I’m literally going to gatekeep this place so hard.”

“Good.” He reaches across the table for your hand with an amused laugh. “It can just be our little spot, then.”

You softly smile back at him.

“Our little spot.”

At that moment, the waiter comes over with Hawks’s shoyu ramen. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks!” Hawks beams at him, then turns his attention to the bowl in front of him.

Then a slight frown appears on his face.

You tilt your head. “What’s wrong?”

His worried eyes meet yours.

“You sure just sushi is enough? You can always order something else, it’s on me.”

“Oh no it’s okay!” You wave a hand. “I’m not really that hungry—“

“I don’t believe you.” A hint of a teasing smile plays on his lips. “Could hear your tummy growling a bit earlier.”

“You heard that?” You whine. How embarrassing.

“All the more reason to share my ramen with me.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to?”

“I do.” Hawks stubbornly says, picking up his chopsticks to grab noodles with them. He holds them up to your lips, a growing smirk on his handsome face.

“Say ahhh.”

Throwing a quick glance around the restaurant, your cheeks flame. “Hawks!”

“What?” He’s still wearing that casual, shit-eating grin. “It’s just us and a few other people here, c’mon.”

You huff. “I can feed myself!”

“I know you can, birdie.” Hawks holds your gaze with piercing but warm eyes. “But I want to do it.”

You fiddle with your own chopsticks, looking at anything but his eyes.

“Please? Let me take care of you.”

Finally, you cave at his pleading expression.

“Okay.”

He feeds you, and you’re not still not sure why he’s so happy to do so, but you let him.

The owner of the sushi and ramen place laughs as he looks over at the booth you two had occupied a few hours before closing.

As always, there’s a generously heavy tip left on the table and this time a new, small note.

thank you, boss :> we’ll be back!! - h

─────────

It’s summer, again.

Keigo flies you back home in his arms after his patrol and your nine to five, and as you touch down on your balcony, the sky is starting to turn a brilliant gradient of orange, pink and purple as the sun begins to dip below the horizon.

His eyes are lidded as he pulls you closer to him by the waist on the couch.

“You like when I’m this close to you?”

In the privacy of your apartment with the only sound being the breeze from your air conditioning and the faint chirping of crickets outside, it’s like the both of you are in your own little world.

“Yeah.” You sound muffled while hiding your burning face in his chest. “You still make me nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” His low voice is lilting as he tilts his head, and pulls you even closer to him with a firm hand now on the small of your back.

Keigo smirks, drinking up the sound of your little gasp. “I’m gonna take that as a yes, little dove.”

You blink dreamily, disorientated by his warmth seeping through his sleeveless turtleneck and the feeling of his firm chest against yours. He was so cozy. “Dove?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause they symbolize peace, and you’re my safe place.” Keigo’s eyes soften at the way you snuggle into him in response. He was yours too, your comfort person. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

“Mmm.” You’re resting your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “Tell me again.”

“As many times as you want.” He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“You’re perfect.”

You let out a laugh, his breath was tickling your ear. “Kei, why’s your heart beating so fast when you say that?”

“Mm.” He offers you a sly smile, hand tracing circles on the small of your back as you lay on top of him.

“Guess you just do something to me when we’re together, birdie.”

Your eyes start to feel heavy, and you hug him even tighter at that.

“I’m so glad I stole your shitty excuse of a coffee that day.”

And it’s when he laughs from deep within his chest that you know he is too.

— Courtship feeding is believed to function as ceremonial pair bonding. The male bird usually feeds their female mate, and the resulting nutritional boost contributes to more and healthier offspring.

[zombieplaygrounds]

cw: noncon hinted, hinted somno, creampies, sexual fantasies, masturbation, fem! afab reader, forced impregnation, stalker behavior, dead dove do not eat

MDNI.

It rained today; it had rained the day before as well. But today was different - at least, for Simon it was. The usual scent of cigarette the reeked around the neighborhood was washed away by the sweet, fresh fragrance of rain. He couldn't fucking sleep for the life of him, too accustomed to his shitty, inflexible work schedule. Sleep for three hours, wake up, report in, missions, come back, standing duty, work out. It was a filthy, scrambled jumble of a schedule that made his brain hurt.

His only luxury was the reservation of his civilian life.

Didn't socialize. Hell, he barely even glanced at someone's face for longer than a few seconds - didn't need to. He had already memorized their features for as long as he deemed important. Which is how he got to finding you.

You, his pretty little neighbor. You were all too fucking sweet for a bastard like him to have such possessive fantasies about. Spend the day time outside, tending to a garden, barbequing, reading a book while bathing in the sun. Your reading glasses were a cute look for you, as was everything else.

And in the evening, when you got to cooking, you'd prop open your kitchen window and let the food cool down. The sound of your dishes being scrubbed could be heard from his own yard - it's not eavesdropping if you're so got damn loud, darling. You yammer to your friend about life, work, the bullshit you experience and the guy who tried to get in your pants last week.

Oh, a pretty thing like you doesn't deserve to tell such vulgar stories. And Simon knows it's wrong to listen. He really does have morals, and respect, and chivalry. Sure, it's hard to prove that when he's fisting his hung cock. Muffling his grunts with sucks of air and shaky exhales.

Your laugh makes his cock twitch, and your sweet little "Mhmm"s make his tip leak with bitter tasting pre. He's sure he'd taste awful, splattered in your mouth. He was sure that you were spoilt on the delicacy meals you'd make in your kitchen. Simon wouldn't force you to endure something so cruel. He'd let his cream fill your cunt, holding your hand while you cry through your orgasm, because he is a gentleman.

Realistically, Simon probably couldn't last long. Especially given the way he busted in his pants the one time you came over to the fence, leaning over it with a hop on your ladder. Gave him a great view of your tits, something you had to be aware of as you begged him to give you some of the oranges from his tree.

'Course, he complied, who was he to reject his sweet little thing?

But love, when you initiate something like that, don't be surprised when the creep at your work randomly disappears. And when you wake up to the window you left open last night closed shut, and your panties full of a sticky white liquid. If they were even still on, you'd be lucky to have some dirty panties left.

You figured, you were a sleep walker. So innocent you are. Go to the doctor about all the "discharge" leaking out of you, not even questioning the throb against your cervix and imagining they were just some cramps from an upcoming period. One that never would come. And only when he hears you sobbing while waiting for one of your pies to cool down will he approach, very sweetly asking what's wrong. Leaning by your window well you break the news to him. You're gonna be a mother, and you don't even know the father. You've been abstinent for months!

Much to your surprise, your neighbor, generously offers to help. Because baby, he gets those combat paychecks; money isn't an issue for him. Simon would generously help you, from the bottom of his heart, with no ill intent, of course.

The military offered great family benefits, after all.

ahh </3 I haven't written in so long :T

anyways i wanted to try writing somno stuff because why not.

[1000sunnygo]

The Rocky Port incident...

...turned out to be another instance of Law meticulously crafting a plan only to shoot himself in the foot, then forming an emergency alliance and somehow turning the tide in his favor. That's incredibly consistent 😭

But now everything makes more sense. It seems Law's intended bargaining chip for becoming a Shichibukai was to hand over a Poneglyph/rubbings to the World Government, and he was accepted not because he submitted 100 hearts of random pirates, but primarily because he played a key role in taking down Ochoku and saving some VIP royalties (also for securing the Poneglyph, I suppose).

According to the translation we have in hand rn, the name of the vessel Law hijacked was "Rocky Port". We know there's a port in Hachinosu with the same name. Maybe it was named after the ship after this incident? (edit: it seems it'd always been a ship and not a port, so, nevermind lol)

But what "important" Poneglyph was there, anyway?

I don't think it's the missing Road Poneglyph. Probably a Rio Poneglyph protected by the resident pirates. I wonder if Law was originally looking for the Road Poneglyph possessed by the man marked by flame, but then changed his target. Curious that he didn't know two of the Road Poneglyphs are possessed by pirates, let alone Kaidou and Linlin..

The chaos that broke out was not part of Law's plan, he was lucky that Blackbeard arrived to join the fun, and they could come to an agreement. Koby, on the other hand, was probably the only marine who agreed to work with the pirates, and thus was able to save the most number of innocent 'Rocky Port' passengers.

I'm pretty sure it was Law who proposed the alliance. Scoring cookie points aside, his conscience surely kicked in. It wasn't his style to drag a ship of innocent civilians to a devil's nest, so he offered to form a pact with the marines to reduce casualty. Without his presence that buffered both sides, a three way alliance wouldn't have been possible.

I had a hunch that Blackbeard and Law might have worked together for some time. But why did Blackbeard need to work with Law? Was Ochoku that strong?

It seems Law didn't know Blackbeard could use two fruits at once (during their flight at Winner island), so Blackbeard likely didn't go all out. Possibly it was of Blackbeard's best interest to secure his victory without greatly damaging the island that he was soon going to rule, so he decided to follow Law's plan. He likely invited Law to his crew too, similar to Kuzan.

In retrospect, it makes sense as to why the alliance with the Straw hats puzzled Law so much, it wasn't because he didn't expect the chaos but because it was entirely different from his previous experience.

I didn't expect the main story the dive deep into Rocky Port incident, it was only a matter of time until we got a short summary. There's enough meat to it to extend it into a short comic, and there's plenty of time in future.

For now, I'm looking forward to the Japanese fanworks flood on Monday 🍿

[yuesya]

“The Zenins finally named an heir?”

“Yup, seems like they finally got around to it,” Satoru laughs. “Or maybe their clan head just did it on a whim?”

It’s an amusing thought. The current head of the Zenin Clan is an extraordinarily difficult person to pressure into doing anything –as this sort of thing tends to be, when the person in question is apparently of the opinion that ‘murder’ is an excellent solution to most of her problems. For all that the Gojo elders are constantly grumbling over how the Zenins’ clan head should technically belong to them and not the Zenins, Satoru doesn’t doubt that there are a number of them who are also quietly relieved by not having to deal with someone who has no qualms about killing and isn’t afraid to make her stance obvious. Or act on it, for that matter.

Suguru tilts his head. “The Zenin clan head… oh, I think I remember her. She came around the Tokyo campus once before, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Satoru grins at the other boy. “You asked me if she was one of my clansmen, remember?”

Suguru flushes slightly in embarrassment as he snaps, “Well how was I supposed to know? The two of you really do look alike, I can’t be the only one who thinks that!”

“Mhm. You’re definitely not the only one.” Zenin Shiki has what’s considered the ‘classic’ Gojo look, all silvery-white hair and light coloration, instead of the Zenin appearance. Ebony hair and eyes, as dark as the shadows that the Zenins pride themselves in.

That still doesn’t change the fact that she’s a Zenin and not a Gojo, though.

“Sorcery clans tend to intermarry with each other,” is all he offers in explanation to his civilian-born friend. Usually, when there are such unions between well-established bloodlines of equal standing and prestige, there are certain vows in place –such as children being returned to the mother’s clan should they turn out to have inherited signature techniques from the mother’s side of the family.

In the case of Zenin Shiki, however, the Gojo Clan discovered that there was a loophole. She possessed cursed eyes, yes, but they were unprecedented in the long history of the Gojo Clan. Therefore, as the Gojo Clan had not demanded that all children possessing cursed eyes be relinquished to them as part of the vow, it stood to reason that new abilities born of the union would be considered as belonging to the Zenin Clan.

To be fair, cursed eyes were rare, and the only real case that still existed among sorcerers in this day and age was the Six Eyes. Which were rare enough already, and usually only found in the Gojo Clan’s main family.

No one had thought that there would be a Zenin granddaughter of a Gojo-Zenin union resulting in a pair of new cursed eyes.

The Zenin elders had probably been unbearably smug about the whole thing, up until they’d been slaughtered by the girl when she ascended her position over her former clan head’s cooling corpse. After which it had probably been the Gojo elders’ turn to wipe their brows and be thanking their lucky stars over having narrowly dodged a bullet there.

Or not, as the case may be; there were still some old fogeys laboring under the impression that the Zenin Clan had simply ‘raised the child wrong’ and that she would’ve turned out to be so much better had the Zenins admitted their own inadequacies and surrendered custody of the girl to them.

Pfft.

Well, it wasn’t as if any of them could turn back time. What’s done was done, and now they had to live with the consequences of their decisions.

Interesting choice for Zenin Shiki to name Zenin Naoya as her heir, though.

Ordinarily, a new clan head who’d supplanted their predecessor through force would want to establish their own bloodline as the new ruling family, but clearly Zenin Shiki had foregone picking one of her close cousins to be her heir. None of them had been specifically elevated to positions of power, either. She herself also had not chosen to marry into one of the more influential Zenin bloodlines as part of an alliance through marriage.

The only strength I need is my own, was the message that Satoru was seeing here.

… Or perhaps not? After all, the unexpected choice of Naoya as heir was definitely going to give people thoughts. Especially those who’d been very unhappy when Zenin Naobito, the previous head of the Zenin Clan, had been killed by a small slip of a girl. A girl who was distinctly Gojo-looking in appearance, despite her Zenin blood –the Zenins likely still had hang-ups about their clan head being killed by a Gojo, given the… historical precedent behind such a thing.

Hmm.

… Well, whatever game Zenin Shiki was playing here, it didn’t have anything to do with Satoru. And hey, maybe she wasn’t playing any games at all –maybe Zenin Naoya was just the strongest Zenin in the younger generation, and she’d made her decision based on that?

Who knows?

[too-much-tma-stuff]

We Agree to Your Terms (part 23)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

TW: descriptions of violence

They talked about Danny's conditions for helping, he had an idea what they were going to be already. But he wanted and needed Jason behind him every step of the way here so Danny talked out as much of his thought process as he could.

As they talked they watched videos as they came out, livestreams and news clips talking about the destruction being caused by the new, unidentified threat. The videos were grainy and corrupted, as most videos of ghosts were, but most of them were clear enough to see what was happening, especially the ones that were taken from a bit of a distance. Those ones were less likely to come to an abrupt bloody end.  

They watched as heroes arrived on scene, and along with them the drone that Danny had infused with ecto so they hacked into its stream instead. Danny was amused to see that it was occasionally ignoring directions, apparently it had developed a little bit of a mind of its own but it was still doing its job.  

The heroes quickly realize most of their attacks had no effect at all on Pariah Dark. The only ones who seemed like they could touch him were Raven, John Constantine, and of course, Phantasm. But all they could do was slow him down and try to buy a little more time for the other heroes to evacuate as many civilians as they could. Danny tensed every time Ellie had a close call, but he couldn’t rush off to save her. Not yet.

The destruction was hard for him to watch, people were dying, and not just a few. The skeleton army and Pariah himself were ruthless and entirely without remorse. Danny saw more than one truly impressive spray of blood, limp bodies falling to the ground and after the first couple he watched with dissociative disinterest. More lives were ruined then just those who were ended, homes were being destroyed, one town was already all but levelled and those who had been evacuated in time would have little to nothing to go back to, it was a major humanitarian disaster in progress. 

They watched an interview as one of the GIW agents arrived on scene, at first they were barely able to disguise their glee as they explained that this was a ghost. Ghosts were dangerous and unfeeling blah blah blah, all their usual talking points. But not to worry! The GIW had the weapons and knowhow to deal with this threat! 

This was what they had wanted the entire time after all, a ghostly rampage to prove their worth to the world. Or at least this was what they thought they wanted, if only it weren’t a matter of minutes before it was completely obvious they were outgunned and untested. All they were good for was meat shields to get the civilians out, and at least Danny could find some joy in that. Watching those all too familiar white suits get ripped up and stained red with blood soothed deep, angry aches imprinted on Danny’s core. He couldn’t help but laugh at their futile fight, some got a few lucky shots off, but at best they took out a handful of skeletons, and Pariah could always summon more of those.

 Then the GIW weren’t even good as meat shields. They had barely bought a few minutes of time for the evacuation efforts before half of them broke and ran! Booking it as soon as it was obvious this was a real threat, and not something they could deal with with their stolen and half baked weapons. The selfish cowardly little cringelings! 

Danny snarled and curled his fingers into claws, barely resisting digging them into Jason’s arms as he held Danny close and made soothing noises. He had never felt so much disdain for another creature as these wannabe heroes who weren’t actually interested in anything besides their own glorification. 

“It won’t be much longer,” Jason soothed Danny, “They’re running out of ideas I’m sure, they’ll call soon. I’ve already declined three calls from Batman.” They had decided not to answer Bruce, he’d probably want them to do the ‘right thing’ with no guarantee of any change and that wasn’t something they were interested in. Danny was waiting to hear from Diana, or maybe one of the leaders themselves.

It was Diana who called, which made sense since Deadman probably didn't have a phone. Jason picked up her call after the first ring which was sure would annoy the hell out of Bruce knowing that his calls were being purposefully screened. 

“Hello, thank you for answering, Red Hood. I wouldn’t have blamed you and your Lover for leaving this world to its fate,” She said with bitter rage. “But I believe these ninnyhammers are ready to see sense. Will you come back and give them a second chance?” She asked patiently. Danny wondered if Themyscira would be alright even if the rest of the world fell, most Gods had to be some sort of neverborn and they protected the island of the Amazons right? Maybe Wonder Woman’s people would be okay.

“We’ll come, but we’re no longer willing to compromise,” Jason growled into the fun.

“Understood,” Diana said in a clipped tone and Jason hung up.

“Are you ready Danny,” Jason asked softly as he pocketed his phone again. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Danny sighed. “Let's just get this over with before anyone else gets hurt.” He straightened and dipped down to re-enter the meeting hall, through the ceiling this time. Danny’s makeshift throne was still there so Danny went straight back to it and sunk down into it, Jason standing at his shoulder again. He couldn’t really help with this other than supporting Danny, and being proud of him for taking charge like this. It was a far cry from how subservient he had been early on. 

Danny had grown so much, and so had Jason. When he was newly back in Gotham so full of rage and so much to prove he wouldn’t have been able to stand behind anyone in silent support. Hell he probably would have shot this place up for talking to Danny the way they had before he’d been in therapy. This was a bitter thing, having to stand in front of this meeting, but it felt like a culmination of their growth. 

“So, you called me back,” Danny said as he leaned back in his icey throne, making it look far more comfortable than it truly must be. 

“You have to do something about this,” Someone demanded, Danny didn’t bother to seek out who it was since he didn’t recognize the voice. 

“Do I?” Danny laughed. “Because I thought you just finished saying it was your job to protect your people.”

“But this is a ghost, this is one of yours!”

“Technically, No he’s not,” Danny grimaced. “That’s the previous king so he currently outranks me. Besides I could defeat him, but he’s not a threat to my people right now. So no, I will not help. I will, however, accept your surrender.” 

“What?” Agent W yelped, why she was still present Danny had no idea. 

“You heard me. He will keep going, he's obsessed with expanding the ranks of the dead he rules. He's attacked the earth before, and I'm sure you remember who it was who defeated him then,” Danny said, turning his gaze to agent W.

“Well it was a couple of our correspondents, the Dr's. Fenton. They-” She blustered.

Danny made an incorrect buzzer noise. “Wrong, some of their tech was used but who was wielding that tech?” He demanded, staring her down. “You're under oath, don't even think about lying.” 

She didn’t answer, but the lemon bitten expression on her face was answer enough really.

“That's right! Last time he broke through I saved the world from him, and my thanks was being captured and tortured. I don't plan to make that mistake again. This time if you want my help you will agree to my terms before I take care of the problem.” 

“And what are your terms?” Diana asked, despite everything she sounded patient and calm, bless her. 

Danny nodded to her gratefully and braced himself before he started talking. He needed to sound confident and reasonable, he didn’t want to sound angry but he also couldn’t leave any doubt he was serious. He did not want to waste any time debating. 

“One; I want the anti-ecto acts repealed and ghosts added to the meta protection acts. Two; I want any active portals to be handed over to the combined control of the Justice League, myself, and my court. Three; I want to be the one called if there are any future issues with ghosts so they can be dealt with through our justice system. Four; I want diplomatic immunity for me and my betrothed. Finally; I want all high ranking members of the GIW handed over to my court so I can be sure they see appropriate consequences for their actions.” 

“You can’t expect us to hand over our-” The American representative started.

“I don’t care what you’re about to say,” Danny interrupted, holding up his hand to stop them. “And I’m not interested in negotiating. If you’re not ready to agree to my terms I’ll wait. But you better not make me wait too long, because casualties are stacking up and before I agree to help I’ll need a signed surrender, and agreement to my terms.”

“Esteemed leaders, there is one more thing that we can try,” Agent W spoke up, drawing everyone’s attention to her. At least she had the good sense to look nervous, but it seemed like the GIW wasn’t ready to give up, annoyingly enough.

“What is it?” Batman was the one to ask, this time he wasn’t even trying to hide his suspicion. 

“We have another weapon, developed by Fentons and further refined by us. We didn’t want it to come to that because it’s a more destructive weapon, hard to wield, and expensive to produce. But we have developed an ecto-missile that-”

“No!” Danny interrupted glaring at her. “You built that missile to try and destroy the ghost zone itself. It’s not safe to-”

“It’s an ectoplasmic weapon it’s not dangerous to-”

“Ectoplasm is clearly still dangerous to humans! Otherwise ghosts wouldn’t be the threat you clearly think they are. Besides to increase the destructive energy and fallout I Know you tried to add nuclear energy. If you fire that thing you will cause more harm to civilians then to the enemy you’re trying to destroy! I don’t know how big you made that thing, but given that you wanted it to destroy an entire dimension, how much of North America are you willing to sacrifice in the hopes it might take out Pariah Dark?”

“What other options are you giving them!?” She snapped at Danny, but he could see the desperation on her face. She knew if they did agree she would be handed over to his justice so he could hardly blame her for grasping at straws.

“To agree to my terms. As soon as the documents are signed I will go fight him. I have a good track record of keeping civilian casualties to an absolute minimum once I’m involved. How many people from the GIW will you have to hand over? A couple dozen? To save thousands of civilian lives, rather than sacrificing hundreds of civilian lives to maybe stop the threat. I think I’m offering a very good deal,” Danny said. He was trying not to sound desperate, but he didn’t want to see any more people hurt then necessary and he was scared they were about to make a terrible mistake.

“You expect us to surrender-”

“He’s not even asking for the reparations he would almost certainly be due!” Wonder Woman snapped, her tone generally startling Danny with how furious she sounded. “His terms are downright kind. You should agree to them.” 

“I have sent the requirements to a friend of mine who is drawing up the contact,” Batman growled. “When you come to your senses the surrender will be ready to print and sign.” 

Danny felt a little tension bleed out of his shoulders at the tacet agreement from Batman. He had been worried that he wouldn’t, and he had been worried that if the leaders or their lawyers wrote the document they would put in some sort of trick or trap that he wouldn’t be educated enough to catch. He didn’t think that Batman would pull something like that. He might have been smart enough to do something like that, but he was fair and he didn’t like those sort of sneaky tricks. Not with them, not if he wanted any of his kids to keep talking to him anyway.

“Good, should we leave again so all of you can consider?” Red hood asked, standing straight with his hands loose at his sides. “I don’t want to see you have to watch you weigh these people’s lives against your pride,” He spat contemptuously.

Danny nodded and pressed his palms against the arms of his throne, ready to push himself up. He didn’t want to see that either, he could feel the mounting death toll churning in his gut with every passing minute spent here deliberating. He hoped he would be a better leader than these people at least, more decisive and willing to make the hard choices even when it scared him.

“There’s no need for that,” Someone spoke up and when Danny looked up their mouth was set into a firm line. “The decision is obvious isn’t it? We would have to be mad to prefer wanton destruction over a reasonable compromise to gain a new ally. That is what it means that we’d call you for future ghost problems, correct?” 

“Yes that is what I meant,” Danny said, settling back in his seat. “I don’t think there will be many issues, especially once we have joint control of existing portals, but if there are, call me as soon as you can. I will make sure they are dealt with quickly and with minimal damage," he assured.

Not everyone looked happy about the solution, but Danny didn’t care. If they dragged their feet signing the paper damages would be on their heads, not Danny’s. A staff member came running in with a piece of paper and Batman got up to meet them, it was two pages but it looked like the second was basically just lines for signatures. 

“Do you want to have a look at it first?” He asked Danny, in a surprisingly gentle voice walking over and offering him the paper. 

Jason was the one who leaned forward and took it before Danny could. Batman seemed a bit surprised but relinquished it to Jason with a barely perceptible nod and stood by, waiting to take it back when they were done. Red Hood glanced over it and then handed it to Danny, who gave him a small smile and a nod before taking his time to read the document. Yes they were in a rush but it was only one page and he wanted to make doubly sure it covered everything he needed it to cover. And it did, it had Danny’s list of terms of surrender reworded into formal language and asserted that by signing the document they were agreeing to the Ghost King’s terms.

He handed it back to Batman with a nod of approval. Batman nodded back and went back to his seat, handing it to Diana who read the terms of surrender aloud to the room. She signed it without hesitation once she finished reading it, and passed it to the leader next to her. It was at that point that Agent W started to have a meltdown, a sight that really amused Danny as she started screaming they couldn’t do this, they couldn’t hand her over to those monsters. She was quickly escorted out of the room and he just hoped that she was going to be held in custody or she might make a break for it. It was going to take a bit to round up all the members of the GIW he wanted he was sure, oh well, he could be patient. 

Around the room it went, some hesitated to sign more than others, but no one completely refused to sign it. As time went on and new death tolls came in and got higher and higher those who hesitated too long were booed down quickly. The urgency was starting to set in as it finally processed that this was really happening. This wasn’t exactly the begging Danny had hoped for, but given how stupidly proud a lot of human’s were, this was good enough.

Finally all of the leaders had agreed to the terms. An attendant was sent out of the room at a run to copy the document so that Danny could have a copy and so could the Justice League. Danny couldn’t help starting to fidget at that point, he was itching to Go! Both to end the suffering of the people in the path of destruction and to finally end this once and for all. The threat of Pariah Dark and his eventual crowning had been hanging over his head for years, it was time to face his demons and beat the shit out of them. 

As soon as he got the paper and had glanced it over he stood and handed the signed surrender off to Jason. “Great! I’ll be going to deal with Pariah now, the rest of you can make yourself useful and start rounding up the GIW.”

“We will,” Diana assured, looking determined and angry. 

“Great,” Danny said and grabbed Jason before flying out of the building through the ceiling again and back towards the US as quickly as he could without damaging Jason. 

“You had better not be planning to drop me off somewhere away from the fight,” Jason shouted over the sound of the wind. “I’m coming with you, both my brother and your little sister are there! I want to try and make sure Robin and Nightwing don’t get hurt.” 

Well, at least he wasn’t talking about trying to protect Danny. “I won’t,” Danny agreed with a resigned sigh. “I have a feeling that trying to leave you somewhere would just piss you off and you’d find a way to get in trouble anyway.”

“You’re damn right I would,” Jason promised, and Danny both hated him and loved him for how damn smug he sounded.

Once they were close enough for a running drop off far enough away that Pariah wouldn’t spot them and try to shoot them out of the sky. An experience which could barely inconvenience Danny and completely destroy Jason. Once Jason was safely on the ground Danny was face to face with Pariah Dark in seconds. 

“Aha! The little king finally shows himself,” Pariah sneered mockingly. “I assume this means you’re ready to be destroyed.”

Danny expected to be scared, to feel impending doom and anger. But he looked at this specter of his childhood and he felt… nothing. After everything that he had been through, Pariah didn’t scare him anymore, and he certainly didn’t hate him like Danny did the GIW. He was just an irritation, a barrier to the life that he wanted. 

“Shut up and let’s get this over with,” Danny snarled and sent a blast of energy toward Pariah that he barely managed to dodge by flying up to meet Danny in mid air. 

Danny was ready for him.

[luveline]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You learn how to be someone’s girlfriend. Or, 5 times Hotch raises your expectations (+1 time you raise his).

7k words, new established relationship to established relationship, lots of fluff and some small angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, calls him aaron, basically hotch treating you well

༺༻

1. Soup. 

"Are you hungry?" Aaron asks, hands at the neck of his shirt as he loosens his tie. 

You've never seen him do that. It's a lot to take in.

"A little, are you?"  He's lucky that you remember to answer.

His smile lights you up inside and out, a warm, casual quirk. "Famished." 

"Should we make something?" 

He turns from the doorway and moves into the kitchen. You have to twist on his couch to see his movements. 

"No need. I should've asked if you like it, but I made vegetable soup. The kind with mini dumplings." 

You look down at your legs and squeeze your thighs together until your knees tap. You're too shy to go and meet him where he's standing, but perhaps sitting and having him wait on you is arrogant. And awkward. 

The couch is plush under your hands as you stand. You'd slipped off your shoes at the door, and your socked-feet slide over the tiled floor of the kitchen as you make your way to his side. Aaron lights the stove, atop which stands a tall cooking pot. 

"When did you have time to make that?" you ask, soft with awe. 

"I knew you'd be coming over. I started it this morning." 

"And if I didn't like it?" 

He turns his gaze to yours, pot lid held aloft. "Then I would've ordered in for us. You're sure this is okay?"  

You've never had somebody cook for you before. Homemade, fresh ingredients, and the intricacy of the dumplings too, it all impresses and amazes you. You feel very special. Like you're worth all the effort. 

"I'm sure. More sure if you let me try it." 

His laugh startles you for its rarity. "Okay. It's not done," he warns. 

"Just to taste it." 

He stirs the warming soup with a big spoon for half a minute, the heat on high, before scooping up some broth and holding it above a cupped palm. "It's probably not very hot," he says. 

Oh, you think, excited and sick with nerves at once. He's going to feed the soup to me. 

Something out of a movie, something you didn't know people actually did for their significant others, Aaron waits for you to open your mouth and offers the spoon. You slurp and feel heat rise to your cheeks at the clumsy sound. 

"Aaron," you say, soft and obsessed after you've swallowed, "it's really nice. You made that yourself?"  

"I can cook," he says defensively. 

You lick your lips, giggling. "I can tell. That was really good. Though it was definitely too cold." 

"Mm. It has to cook through some more. Reduce. Do you want to shower?" He puts down his wooden spoon, head tilting to one side gently. He assesses your expression, and brings a curved hand to settle over your cheek. The tip of his index finger kisses the delicate skin under your eye. "No, maybe not. You look tired." 

You probably shouldn't say something like that to your brand new girlfriend (you scream internally at the word, every single time since he asked you a week ago) but Aaron speaks factually. You don't think for a second that there's any malice there, any hidden critique. His words shine with concern. 

"It's Friday. I'm always tired at the end of the week." 

His hand falls to your shoulder. "I can imagine." 

"You can go shower, if you like. I'll watch the soup." 

"I need one, huh?" 

He must know how well-kept he looks even now. You're not sure you've ever seen him dishevelled. 

"Definitely need one," you try to tease. It comes out murmur-quiet, and Aaron takes pity and kisses your cheek. 

He leaves to shower and you 'watch' the soup — you stand at the stovetop and soak in it's emanating warmth, stirring it every now and then to prevent the bottom from burning. The shower runs muffled from the bathroom, and your mind wanders as it tends to do. It's an undeniable fact that Aaron is naked right now, the thought opening an avenue of images you've been trying not to think about all day. It's your very first time spending the night after a couple of weeks of dating, and now you're together, if Aaron wants to have sex tonight you'll say yes. He's handsome, and his build suggests a certain… tenacity. 

His hands would convince you alone. Big hands. 

You look down into the simmering pot of soup and smile harder than you have any right to smile. He's done everything right, all the romance; he'd asked you out clearly with no doubt of his intentions, which had shocked you; he'd brought you a bouquet of flowers on your first date, which had delighted you; and he hadn't tried to take you home, which had surprised you. 

Modern romance often doesn't feel very romantic. Things with Aaron are different. 

Hell, he's so sweet he probably won't make a move unless you make one yourself. 

You'd prefer to be squeaky clean tonight, you've decided, just in case. When he gets out of the shower, you'll tell him you've changed your mind.

The shower shuts off. He appears a little bit after that, in new clothes, towel around his neck and feet either side of your own as he sidles in for a damp and quick cheek kiss. 

"Sorry I took so long. Are you ready to eat?" he asks, taking the spoon from your hand to give the soup a big, gran stir. 

"Actually, could I shower?" 

If he's surprised at your changed mind he says nothing, only turns down the heat of the stove. "Of course you can. Come on, I'll show you how it all works." 

His 'come on' is accompanied with a guiding hand at the small of your back. You let yourself be guided. The heat of his touch fills your stomach and doesn't abate, no matter how cold you run the spray. 

2. Phone calls. 

It's the week after that when you're supposed to be spending the night again. You're excited for two reasons, the first and smallest being that he had been what you thought and more in bed, that itself an expectation raised, and it had felt like connection at its brightest — he'd been sweet, and he'd been rough but never, not ever once cruel. A perfect night. The second, and biggest, is that he's honestly just the nicest person you've ever met. He's your boyfriend, a phrase you don't say in front of him because he's admittedly older than you, and you can't imagine he calls you his girlfriend. Partner might be more apt. He's your boyfriend and he's openly fond of you. Openly more than that. It's new to be doted on as ardently as he dotes on you. 

He touches you like he can't believe he's touching you. He talks to you like you're gold dust, all smiles and laughs heavy with admiration, and he listens. You've never felt listened to in the way you do when you're with him. 

So many conversations are just one party waiting for the other to stop talking until it's their turn. You think, maybe, Aaron would let you talk for hours. He would listen the whole time. 

In summary, you're basically thrumming with excitement to see him again. You've missed him some, but mostly you've spent the week bouncing off of walls waiting for the next time you get to talk to him. 

His text is disheartening, to say the least. 

Hey, honey. I have to cancel our plans tonight. I'm sorry, and I'll explain as soon as I get the chance. Please take care of yourself for me until I can.

It doesn't make you mad. While it is extremely short notice, and your heart hurts to the point of frustrated tears, you know it isn't his fault. He's been clear about his job at the FBI and what that means for you both. How it will without a doubt pull him away from you during dates, the middle of the night, special occasions, the works — this had been after a small disclosure about his commitment to his son, Jack, and how he's a father first — and how it will definitely cause some strain. 

"But," he'd said, "I want you, and I want this to work. So if you can be patient with me, I'll try to make it worth it." 

He's been successful every time. After he'd cancelled your third date, he'd quickly rearranged it and apologised with a modest but beautiful bouquet of flowers. 

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth date, you hadn't seen him for two whole weeks, and every worry you'd had about his intentions had been abated by a steady stream of encouraging text messages and the occasional photograph. Nothing crazy, but sweet things, like the cookies he and Jack had made that night, captioned, I'd save one for you if I thought Jack would let me, or a sunrise in a different state, captioned, This looks like the dress you wore to Lemaira. 

Later that night, you're unhappy and frowning still, a small carton of ice cream freezing your fingers to the cardboard and a spoon in your mouth when your phone starts to ring. 

You aren't expecting it to be Aaron. You aren't in the habit of calling one another, even though you'd secretly wished he would while he's away beforehand. 

It's nearing eight o'clock. 

"What time do you call this?" you joke, smiling despite yourself. Again, the excitement that comes with talking to him wells at the surface. 

"I know, I'm sorry," he says, sounding very tired. 

You slouch down into your couch cushions, ice cream on the armrest, remote for the TV on your chest. You click the volume button down, down, down until the TV's near silent. 

"I'm kidding, mostly. Are you okay? I've been a little worried." 

Understatement of the century. You know sudden cases of violence often draw him away from Virginia, but this had been sudden sudden. The lack of information had made you think the worst, worse than serial killer and bombers and hostage situations. You'd thought Aaron was in danger himself, and then you'd tried to suffocate that thought. He'd never worry you like that even if he were. 

"I'm fine. Sorry to miss you tonight." 

"I'm sorry to miss you too," you say, voice disjointed, too earnest. You scramble to hide the depth of your feelings. "Where are you?" 

"I'm in St. Louis. Where are you?" 

You laugh, curling onto your side with the phone pressed up against your ear. "Where am I? I'm at home." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I was watching TV." 

"Yeah? Did you eat anything yet?" 

You think to the takeout you'd bought and shoved in the microwave, not hungry at the time but knowing knowing would be. "Not yet. Why are you asking?" 

"I want to know." 

"I told you in my text I would take care, Aaron." 

"Honey," he says, pet name like a warm palm over your heart, "my definition of taking care and your definition are very different. Promise me you'll eat something."

"Of course I will. Easy promise." You scratch the couch fabric absent-mindedly. "Have you eaten?" 

"Yes," he says, the sound of a closing window in the background. "It's awful how much take out I eat. All these cases, there's never any time to cook real food." 

"Why, what did you have? And surely there's some uber healthy options out there, like, a chickpea salad-" 

"That costs thirty dollars? I'm not struggling, honey, but we both know that's obscene." 

You're laughter takes on a giddy quality as you cross your leg over the other, picturing his smile as his laughter echoes breathily down the line. You really, really wish he were here right now and that you were having this conversation face to face. You know he'd smile and try to hide how smug he feels at making you laugh. His hand would reach over any gap to touch some silly part of you, forearm or collar or the skin under your ribcage. 

"Are you okay?" You say his name to drive the point home. Your voice is quiet — you're hesitant to offer, worried you're crossing a boundary. "Aaron, I know you don't like bringing it home, but you aren't home, so… I'm here." 

"I know. It's nothing I want you to worry about, there's an ongoing situation here, bomb threats coming in quicker than the local P.D can handle. They need us to vet them and figure out if any of them are real." 

You think about it for a few seconds, the silence small but not uncomfortable. If you were under that kind of pressure, you'd be hurting. Chest pains, anxiety shakes, a migraine. 

"You'll be safe?" you ask. 

"Always. I'm not in any danger. And I need to get home, I owe you a Friday." 

"You do," you mumble. 

There's the creak of a box spring mattress, and the sound of a lamp being clicked. On or off, you don't know. When Aaron speaks, his tone is dulcet and hushed but distinct. You feel it in your chest. 

"Tell me about your day," he murmurs. 

You lay it all out for him in detail. He can barely reply when you hang up, sleep thickening his affectionate, "Goodnight, honey." 

3. His bleeding heart.

"What kind of kid were you?" he asks.

You look up from your notebook, surprised. Aaron has been silent for what feels like an hour now, laid out on the picnic blanket with your sweater bundled up under his head while the sun warms your skin. 

"I was…" You let your pen roll into the centre of your notebook and close it. He's laid his paperback flat across his chest. You think he might be very interested in the answer. "It was a long time ago, but I think I was lonely." 

He nods like this is what he'd been expecting. "Me too." 

It's a gorgeous day out. The sky is a light, bright blue with few clouds. They block the sun occasionally, providing a short and bittersweet shield from the heat. The grass surrounding is shockingly green, rippling in the breeze. 

"You were?" you ask. "What were you like?" 

"I was quiet." 

"That's not surprising," you say mildly. 

"No, I guess not." 

You abandon your notebook and lay down beside him. Worrying what you look like from this angle, you cover your jaw with your hand and turn toward him ever so slightly to show you're listening. 

"I liked affection. I remember my mom used to say I was a siphon for it. I'd be all over her, and she'd have nothing left to give anyone else." 

"That's not true," you deny. Every ounce of affection that you given him, he has returned tenfold, and that's inspired a lot of kindness in you, for him and for the world. "You're like an amplifier, if anything." 

He smiles to himself and turns his gaze skyward. "I wish we'd met before." 

"Me too," you say, leaving little room for debate.

"You're so kind," — he adorns you with each word like a gift, a tiny star of praise — "I think you're the kindest person I've ever met." 

He laughs. It's a catching sound, contagious as anything. You giggle with him and shift closer. Your arms touch, your hips. 

"Baby," you murmur, almost lamenting, "d'you ever think your ability to see the good in people is- It's indicative of the good in you... You've given more of your life than most to keep other people safe. That's the kindest thing a person can do." 

He tangles your hand with his where it had been resting on your stomach. You're pretty sure you can feel every line of every fingerprint as he works your fingers together, a snug fit like one of those wooden brain teaser puzzles: How do you pull these two pieces apart? From the outside, it looks impossible!

"I think I'd be different, if I'd met you before. I'd be kinder," he says. 

You can't agree with him. It's obvious who he is. You know more about him now than you ever have before. His late wife, how she'd been the best mother they ever made. His son, and how he moulds Aaron everyday into a better man. His friends, who trust him, who adore him. All these people have a hand in who Aaron is now, and while you wish you'd been around from the start, now will have to do.

"You're plenty kind," you say. Understatement of the century. 

"Sorry," he says with a laugh, "With you-" He cuts himself off, head-shaking from side to side as he pulls your joined hands up slowly. 

Your arm bends and then turns as he pulls it toward his face. He unlinks your fingers to steer your forearm, aligning it flat over his lips. The first kiss is a surprise, light like the feathered edge of a flower petal, and the second isn't dissimilar. 

The third melts you, veritably, the parting of his lips emphasised by the dull scratch of teeth against your pulse, the wet heat of his tongue. Three becomes four, and a final fifth, crescent moons pressed into your skin like he's trying to tell you something. 

You've no clue what. You likely couldn't say which way the world turns, not when he's kissing you. Not like this. 

Aaron has an acute ability to talk without talking. Hello's and thank you's and I care about you's woven into quick kisses, the swift squeeze of his hand over the slope of your shoulder.

These ones say something you don't want to speak aloud, lest you jinx it. 

The sunlight fades. A big grey cloud covers the sun.

"I think it's gonna rain," you say. 

A raindrop splashes in Aaron's eye. 

"Fuck," he says, which is hilarious, because he never swears in front of you. You hadn't known he cussed at all. 

The downpour is slow and then sudden, spitting rain dotting over you both like a fine mist as you stand, a thicker, faster outpouring chasing your heels as you hurry to the car. You realise you can't outrun it even if you sprint, and so you stop, Aaron's hand in yours tugged like a rubber band. He bounces back into your chest with the picnic blanket under his arm, your books tucked somewhere inside. 

He doesn't ask what you're doing. He's made the same deduction as you, or maybe he trusts you, or maybe he's indulging you. 

"Your hair," he laments. 

"Doesn't matter," you say. 

You lift your chin up for a kiss. Aaron ducks down to give you one. A raindrop runs down the bridge of his nose to the tip of yours. 

4. In sickness. 

You insist that it wasn't the rain that made you sick, but honestly there's no way to tell. You'd kissed for slightly too long, and the rain had been surprisingly cold. Now you aren't very well, and you have to cancel Aaron's sleepover. 

You hold out as long as you can, but come Friday afternoon it's clear you aren't getting better. You wake to a text from Aaron, two texts, and it makes you smile through shivery coughs. 

I can't wait to see you tonight. Do you need anything before I get there? Miss you. Sent 6.26AM.

Is everything okay? Sent 9.17AM. 

Usually you'd have answer his morning text within the hour. 

Hi, I miss you too, so much, but I don't think we'll be able to see each other tonight. I've got the flu :( I'm sorry. And sorry I couldn't answer your message until now, I was sleeping. 

It's another hour before he answers. You rouse from your gross snotty stupor to squint at the phone. It's surprisingly long. 

I'm sorry it's taking me so long to get back to you, things are tense here right now. You don't have to be sorry for either, I'm glad to hear you're resting. You could have told me you were sick. Is it okay if I come and see you tonight anyways? I would love to check on you. Don't rush to answer, and call me if you can. 

You call him with reservations. 

"Is this a good time?" you ask weakly, forgoing a hello. 

It takes him a little while to speak. You assume he's leaving a room, closing a door. "Now's fine. How are you?" 

"My throat hurts and it's a little hard to breathe, but I'm sure I'll live." 

"You've been to see a doctor?" 

"It's not that bad." 

He sighs. "You sound tired. And sore. Why didn't you tell me you were sick?" 

"You don't have to baby me, I'm really okay." 

"Have you considered that I'd like to baby you?" 

Not really. You can't imagine anyone would want to deal with you. You're a mess, you look awful, you don't smell great, and you're not good company. You can't think of a single reason Aaron would want to be anywhere near you right now. 

"No," you say, "I hadn't." 

"I'd love to look after you." 

"You could be doing something fun with your Friday. You could see Jack." 

"Jack's going to Kings Dominion. And Fridays are our day, you being sick doesn't make me want to see you less."

You hadn't said that, but he'd inferred it. Of course he had. 

You and Aaron decide that your sleepover will go ahead after all. Or, he persuades you very gently. You spend three hours doing tasks that should only take one. You shower, you clean your room, and you do the dishes. By the end of it you're sweating enough to need another shower but you aren't a quitter, so you open the freezer and stick your head in, hands braced against the refrigerator door. 

You're excited to see him. You always are. Too bad you look so wiped out. 

It's almost 6.30 when you hear his knock on the door. You'd been waiting for him and started dozing at the kitchen table, your neck a mess of twisted nerves, your hand numb from supporting your head. You shake it out and open the door, sheepish. 

"Hi," you croak out. 

He has a lot of stuff with him. His familiar overnight bag, a briefcase, two grocery bags, and a bouquet. 

"Aaron, why," you moan, covering your face with one hand as you move back down the hall to let him in. 

"Not the greeting I'd hoped for." 

"I can't greet you, I'll make you sick." 

You get all the way to the kitchen and think, triumphantly, that you've escaped his 'greeting'. He puts the flowers down carefully on the kitchen counter as you try to come up with a thank you that doesn't make your eyes burn. The grocery bags are placed without ceremony on the floor, and his overnight bag falls onto the kitchen chair. You watch him unbutton his rain spattered coat, and your triumph fades when he peels out of it and instantly reaches for you. 

"Aaron," you mumble, stepping into his arms. He knows you can't say no to a hug, not after a week of not seeing him. 

"I missed you," he says, arms around your back, lips at your temple. "You're running a temperature." 

"It's not that bad. 101." 

"Honey, 101 is bad." 

"Not as bad as 102." 

"Not as bad as 102," he concedes. You can hear his voice rumbling in his throat, and feel it in his chest and yours.

He takes as much of your weight as he can, leaning back so you're forced to arc forward. Your face slips into his neck, and you're thinking, this is what it's like? To be held, sick, with nothing to give? It feels good.

"Please tell me the next time you're sick," he murmurs. 

You definitely will. If this is what it's like, roaming, cautious hands over your shoulder blades, a strong nose stroking lines against your warm forehead. 

"Thank you for the flowers." 

It's squished against his skin but he hears it. "You're welcome. Do you want me to put them in a vase?" 

"I can do it." 

"I think that might defeat the purpose. They're a gift, not an extra chore." 

"Nobody ever got me flowers before you, so it doesn't feel like a chore at all." 

He encourages your face back enough to look at you. You have to mouth breath on him because your nose is all stuffed up, and it is not something you're happy to do. You look down so he can't feel it. 

"I'm gonna do something really cheesy, and you can tease me about it later, okay?" 

You look at him from under your lashes. "'Kay." 

"Close your eyes," he whispers. 

You let your eyes shut. Aaron cradles your face in both hands and pulls your face toward his chin, in your rough approximation. 

Heat fans against your eyes. He kisses your eyelids, the left and then the right, the most gentle press of his lips you've ever felt. 

"It's killing me to see you like this," he says, and you're grateful for the pinch of humour behind it. "Couch or bed?" 

"Couch. I wanna watch a movie with you." 

"Good. I wanna watch a movie with you, too." 

Aaron does everything. You're too tired to notice, but when you're better, you'll add it all up. He makes you dinner and breakfast and lunch and enough for the day after that, too. He trims down all your flowers and places them in a vase on your window sill. He recleans your room, cleans your bathroom, and plays nursemaid diligently. He makes you take your temperature in front of him, and then he fawns and makes you hug an ice pack, stays the night again when he's supposed to go home. 

It sucks, but your temperature falls, and when your insides stop cooking themselves you start to feel better. On Sunday morning, when he has to leave, you feel the strange pang of being cared for unconditionally like the wind being knocked out of you. He'd done all of that because he cares about you. He'd wanted to see you fed and well and happy, and he hadn't gotten anything out of it in return. 

5. The test-drive.

"Hi, Jack," you mumble, rubbing wetness out of your sleep-heavy eyes. "Good morning." 

"Good morning," he says cheerfully, of his father's disposition. 

"Did you," — you yawn wide and turn your face so neither of them can see — "sleep well?" 

"Yeah, thank you. Why are you so tired?" 

Aaron's standing at the stovetop making oatmeal. You stand at the counter beside it, hips touching but facing opposite ways. "I'm still getting used to your dad's bed." 

It's true. There's something about someone else's mattress that makes you ache. 

"What is it about my mattress you can't get along with?" Aaron asks in good humour, adding a generous pinch of salt to the saucepan. 

"It's more comfortable than mine," you say with a self-satisfied laugh. 

Aaron pecks your damp cheek and skirts around you to fill three identical bowls of oatmeal next to three identical glasses of orange juice. Jack cheers when his portions are placed in front of him, and he digs in even though it's ridiculously hot. 

Aaron had explained once that he's basically trained Jack to eat it scorchingly hot by accident. Years of oatmeal straight off of the hob versus a growing boy with no patience. You watch in awe as Jack scarfs it down. 

You and Aaron are doing this thing. You've called it the test-drive in your head. He wants to see how well you and Jack get along, likely, and how well you handle living together, too. (Though you absolutely don't think you'll be moving in together quite this soon.) That's your working theory. He'd asked you if you'd be interested in staying for the week a month ago, and you had, and it had been a dream. This is week two, and it seems to be going just as well as the first. 

It's definitely revealing. To see each other's routines. And an adjustment. You have to see all the gross stuff, no avoiding it. 

Though stuff you might consider gross he enjoys. Like watching you put on body lotion, he'd loved that more than words could express. And watching him shave, you'd loved that more than you'd thought you would. You'd sat on the lip of the tub and he'd listened to your morning murmurings, half asleep and excited as always to talk to him about everything. 

Getting to know Jack more has been a joy, too. You've met him nowhere near as many times as you would've liked and done family things: bowling, pizza places, the movies, a baseball game. 

Eating breakfast together is way more fun. Especially because Jack likes you. 

As soon as you sit down he starts to tell you about school. You listen, sipping your orange juice while you wait for the oatmeal to cool from lava. 

After breakfast, the three of you head back to your respective bedrooms to get dressed. 

That's something else you adore, you and Aaron undressing and redressing together in the space in front of his closet, the intimacy of casual nudity, and the way his hand closes around your hip to move you out of the way of his shirts. 

You're pretty much inseperable until you get to the car park. A firm believer in kids receiving as much love as they can from everybody, you offer Jack a hug before you part ways everytime. Sometimes he says yes, though most times he says, "Thank you, Miss Y/N, but my hug quota is full." 

Today, he squeezes your waist really hard and says, "Have a good day bye," like it's one word.

"Have a good day, baby," you tell him, laughing as he jettisons into the passenger seat of Aaron's car. 

Aaron usually gives you a swift kiss and goodbye like his son. Today, he brings his hand to your neck. You stare him straight in his dark eyes as he does, marvelling the shock of straight lashes outlining each one, and the permanent wrinkle between his brow from frowning. 

Placing two hands on either shoulder, you use his frame to rise on tiptoes and kiss it. 

"Don't frown too much today, okay, handsome? Have a good day." 

He cups your face in both hands as your heels touch the ground. His hands are warm, kind as he pushes both palms over your cheeks and your ears. He covers them, and your heartbeat amplifies, a thumping sound fighting his skin. Then he slips his fingers behind your ears and the roaring fades. 

"I love you," he says. 

You beam at him. "Really?"

"Really. I love you, honey. Have a good day."

As if. If he thinks he can walk away after dropping that on you he's got another thing coming. 

You throw your arms around his neck and all your weight into his front, almost barrelling him over. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your thighs around him, 'cause then he really might fall over. 

You dig your face into his neck, searching for something, for the perfect place to rest your cheek. "I love you, Aaron." 

There isn't a chance in hell he didn't already know it. 

"I got you something," he says. 

You laugh in surprise and tighten your hold on him. "Why? This is gift enough." He loves you. It bounces around in your chest. 

"Because I'm not stupid enough to miss what I have right in front of me." 

You lean back so you can kiss him, ignoring his hand as it reaches into his pocket. 

"Baby," you say, a hair's width from his lips. You kiss him again for a second, thrilled, but curiosity pulls you back. "You have it now?" 

He takes a step away from you and reveals the box in his pocket, long and thin. It clicks open on a silver hinge, and inside velveteen lies a simple chain.

"Is that a diamond?" you ask, breathless. The stone at the end of the chain shines like nothing you've ever seen before. 

You don't know a thing about them other than that they're expensive. You can't see Aaron Hotchner of all people buying a fake. 

"A small one," he says modestly. 

Your eyes burn. You're happy to the point of tears but you refuse to cry. 

"And it's for me?" you ask. 

He laughs and you laugh too, the sound slightly sniffly. 

"Of course. Do you want to wear it?" 

"Now? Yes, more than anything," you say, smiling hard, cheeks appled and aching. "Are you serious?"

"More than anything." 

Corny, you think desperately. Do not cry, that's so cheesy. 

"Are you sure you don't want to wait until my birthday?" 

He gestures for you to turn around, the chain hanging from his finger. You turn, feel his hands brushing against your neck as he lays it across your chest and pulls it together behind your nape. 

"Your birthday gift is better than this." 

Better? You could burst. 

The clasp closes and he rubs his hands down the backs of your shoulders. 

You turn back around, face dipped to your chest in efforts to see the necklace. It's short but long enough to spot the diamond hanging under your collar. 

"I've never had a diamond, before," you mumble, hands pressed to your chest. Your heart bumps under your hand. 

"Thank you," you say, looking up, "baby, you didn't have to. You don't have to get me stuff like this, it's a lot." 

"I don't think it's too much. You give gifts when you're grateful. I'm grateful to love you." 

He's expecting you this time, unwavering when your arms slide over his shoulders. You breathe in the smell of his skin and he does the same, his face pressed to the top of your head.

Jack is late for school that day. You apologise to Aaron more times than you can count, and every time he only smiles and says, "It's okay. I love you." 

+1 

Aaron misses your first anniversary. 

It's a very important date to miss, and you have a right to be upset. 

But. 

You always knew from the very first date that this was something that could, unfortunately, happen. You'd been lucky to get him for your birthday, luckier still to see him on his own and treat him with the delights he deserved. You'd figured eventually something would happen to throw a spanner in the works. 

What you aren't expecting is the lack of anger. 

You aren't mad at him, not one bit. It would be okay if you were, even though it's not his fault, because this is so big. You're celebrating the best year of your life alone, and that's no fun. You and Aaron had planned to go away, two days in a fancy hotel, Jack with Jessica and no worries. 

He can't ignore a bomb threat in the capital, and he wouldn't want to. 

You know a missed anniversary is a lesser weight than innocent people dead. You know Aaron wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't go. You know he regrets leaving you on such an important day. 

Maybe one day, you'll be angry with him. Today, you only miss him. 

I love you. I'm sorry. I'll be back very soon. Happy anniversary. 

He sends that after a grovelling, short phone call, in which you assure him that it's fine. Your voice is tight with tears, you miss him like crazy, and he hears it though you try to hide it. 

I will make it up to you. 

You don't have any doubts. 

You feel a little sorry for yourself, and then you send him a text of your own. 

I love you, so don't be sorry. Get back safe and sound and consider yourself forgiven. Happy anniversary, my love. 

Followed with what's likely too many hearts for good measure. 

Still, still, he doesn't believe it's okay. You know he's human, and he loves you, and that makes it easy to predict how he's feeling — worried that you're angry, worried that you'll leave him, worried this won't work for you. 

And you're only human yourself. You can't say how you'll feel in another year, or two, or five. You can't imagine how depressing it might be to miss the holidays and birthdays and anniversaries with him year after year, but you want to be patient. You want to forgive him for the things he has no hand in, and you do. 

You get a visitors pass for his office once you're cleared and take the elevator up, checking your text messages for the fifth time, just to make sure. 

I'll be home in a couple of hours, the plane touches down in two. Love you. Sent 4.53PM. 

It's the day after your anniversary, a Monday, and it's nearly 7PM. You smile at people you've seen in passing the few times you've visited his office before and don't bother trying to sit in Aaron's office, knowing it's locked while he's away. You travel the spare steps and sit at the top of the landing, hands clutching the neck of the bunch of flowers you're holding nervously. The cellophane crinkles. 

You hadn't answered him. It was cruel to leave him hanging, but you didn't expect him to come home so soon. He's too damn good at his job. 

The elevator doors open in the quiet. Barely anybody lingers now in the late hour, and the voices of the BAU echo. 

Spencer sees you first. Morgan second. They stop at the beginning of the office. 

Aaron sees you third.

You spring to stand up on your feet, and then you feel very tall and very seen and descend the steps rather than draw more attention. 

"You said seven," you say, not sure what else to say, not with people watching you. "This is definitely closer to eight." 

Aaron thankfully isn't too proud to speed walk to you. Your heart skips as you meet him, flowers crushed half to death as he gets his arm behind your neck, hooking your head in the crook of his elbow. 

He kisses you roughly. Heat floods every inch of skin, your breath rushes out of your nose with a sigh. 

He pulls back. 

"Happy anniversary," you say quietly, smiling at the sheer relief in his eyes. 

"It was yesterday," he says, quiet too. 

"Happy one year and one day, then." You push him away from you gently. "Don't suffocate your roses." 

"You got me flowers." 

"You get people gifts when you're grateful," you parrot. 

He takes a step back and accepts the flowers. On the message card, you've written, bashful and clumsy and adoring, I'm grateful to love you. One year and more. 

He moves the bouquet into one hand and wraps you up in another huh, firm-armed, chin over the top of your head, though he intersperses his embrace with dainty kisses pecked from one temple to another. 

"You aren't mad?" he asks, worried about the answer. 

"No," you say honestly. "Not mad. Missed you like crazy yesterday, but I get you today. I can make it work." 

When you break apart a second time, you both buckle under the weight of his colleagues watching.

"Thank you," Rossi speaks up, grand and wry, "we thought we'd have to endure his moping for at least a week. Your understanding spares us all." 

"Nice, Dave," Aaron says. 

"I've got your paperwork, Hotch," Morgan offers. 

Aaron has the good sense to accept it before Morgan can change his mind. His friends say goodbye, and Aaron pulls you by the hand back to the elevator bank. You couldn't wipe the smile off of his face if you tried. 

The elevator doors have barely closed when he's leaning down to kiss you again. 

"Thank you," he says. 

"You really don't have to say thank you," you murmur, bumping your shoulder with his. "You got home safe. That's all that matters." 

His next kiss is bruising. The sound of cellophane crushed between you makes you laugh. He kisses you through it, his smile pressed feverishly to yours, over and over and over.

༺༻

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed please consider reblogging, i promise it makes a difference to me <3

[green-alm0nd]

[The Bad Batch x gn!reader (headcanons)]: Wearing their t-shirt

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Summary:

Each of the Bad Batch members react to your wearing their t-shirt.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: None, pure fluff. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

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HUNTER:

He is completely smitten at the sight of you wearing his black t-shirt, one that he usually matched with his civilian clothes.

He came into your shared bunk to check some stuff about medical supplies and he found you trying out his black t-shirt. It wasn't oversized, but it wasn't super tight on your body, either.

He leaned on the side of the bedframe, smiling to himself.

"It fits you. You should keep it."

You're startled by how stealthy and quiet he was.

"You think so?"

He nods, hugging you from behind, pressing his chest against your back.

"Of course. Keep it."

He feels very protective over you, especially when you're wearing his clothes.

He acts like he doesn't mind, but in reality, he wouldn't mind you trying out his clothes more often.

ECHO:

He came back from a mission to your shared apartment just to see you with his pyjama shirt on and he instantly turned red.

You were watching a holomovie, hugging a cushion against your chest with his shirt on and he felt his heart speed up to a hundred miles per hour.

He slowly approached you, trying to look like he was cool with it, and ruffled your hair.

"Evening. I see you're wearing something of mine." He chimed.

You smiled, and stared at him. Truth be told, you missed him dearly when he went on long missions, so you looked for a piece of clothing that was his to remind you of him.

When you explained that to him he directly melted.

He thought he was so lucky to have a partner like you, a thoughtful mind and a loving person.

He joined you shortly afterwards, staring at you with a silly smile any time

WRECKER:

Excited. Like a kid on Christmas.

"Awe! Look at you! You're so adorable!"

He had bought some Mantell Mix for him and Omega when he decided to go back to the ship to rest and that's when he saw you.

To be fair, the t-shirt he used to dress up as a civilian looked like a huge, oversized dress on you. But that's what made it endearing.

"You look so cute!"

He hugs you tightly and kisses you to demonstrate how much he loves you.

If you wear his t-shirt, he will steal a wristband and put it on his wrist to show that he's also willing to wear your stuff.

May turn into a competition at some point, but that's not what we're here for-

Bonus: he feels extremely protective over you when you're wearing his clothes.

TECH:

Unfazed. Not bothered.

Or, at least, that what he likes to act like.

In reality, he got very flustered and awkward the first time he saw you wearing his t-shirt.

He stumbled with words and stuttered uncontrollably. He was probably the most flustered out of the entire batch.

He was done fixing the Marauder's hyperdrive and decided to check on you when he saw you with a t-shirt he used to sleep. And his heart rate skyrocketed.

Like I said, he acts unfaced and excuses his stuttering by saying he had been talking for too long. Not a very good excuse coming from his smart brain.

Then again, it's not like his brain worked after seeing you on his t-shirt.

He thought of places he could place the t-shirt so you'd be able to wear it more often.

This man is really head over heels for you.

CROSSHAIR:

"The heck you're doing with my t-shirt on?"

"Don't act mad, Cross."

"I'm not. I'm just asking."

He did acted mad. He was actually about to melt then and there.

Him and Hunter had gone on a mission to gather some intel and he had come back to the small cottage you and him shared on Pabu just to see you with his white t-shirt on.

Deep down, he loved it. He loved that you were wearing something that was his, he loved that you were his significant other.

He was just too proud to admit it.

The first time he saw you wearing his clothes, he snuck his hands under it to gently grip your waist. He adored the feeling of being able to hold you.

And yet again, he was too proud to admit it.

----

There's not much I have to say except I finally got my helix piercing done and I really do love it :p

And I might edit Crosshair's part because it doesn't really match his personality anymore.

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated!

My requests are still open!

[jaythes1mp]

Are you considering any other alternative animals? Because I think that Gotham would be more suitable, for example, an opossum hybrid Reader, if it means a pure law-abiding civilian or a raccoon/fox, for a more morally gray, but peaceful one (just ife is hard), or a badger and it would be a villain or antihero. Can you imagine the degree of comicality if someone catches Bats or Wayne with a real live badger, which they squeeze like a puppy, and meanwhile he behaves completely wildly and tries to bite off their hand? (except for Damien/Robin, he obviously and notoriously loves all non-human animals with unconditional love). Or a situation where the raccoon Reader helps Alfred wash the dishes? Or how the possum in a human body leaves some of its instincts and pretends to be dead when attacked by some villain (ideally, probably the Joker), that is, it really convincingly pretends like a real animal and deceives others, at least until it considers the situation safe, and the rest of the hostages are not so lucky (because it's a Joker)? (I think this would be the first meeting) If you need birds/flying/non-mammalian animals, I think of a pigeon, a crow and… I do not know what large birds of prey should be found in the geography of Gotham (and I did not name hybrid bats, because it is too obvious and it has already been mentioned in a couple of posts on this topic). And I would be a rat, whoever kept them as pets knows that they are just mini dogs. Of course, wild rats or passerines can be more aggressive than decorative ones, but this is rather due to their forced female survival. I use a translator because I don't know English so well and I don't have much free time for thoughtful translation. And I also had an anonymous smiley face, but I forgot it —.^,—

Thank you for the ask, anon!

I definitely have thought through some other animals, and will for sure write some one-shots and hc in the future if anyone asks for them. 

I’m open to making any and all kinds of hybrid readers.

So far I have a robin reader, a cat reader, and a puppy reader. 

I've been staying on the more common pet side of things, but the thought of a possum, opossum, badger, or raccoon reader is definitely an interesting concept. This is due to their wild and untamable nature in contrast to domesticated pets.

However I know jack shit about those animals so it wouldn’t be as detailed. Though I’d for sure attempt it. 

Because the idea of The Bruce Wayne, the wealthy philanthropist and Gotham City's golden boy, standing up at some random podium, trying to give a speech, with a rabid, hissing and scratching badger in his hands would definitely cause a large, hilarious commotion. 

Or even if the family attended one of those many fancy galas that they fund with this enormous, ferocious looking, sharp-taloned eagle perched on one of their shoulders. 

Or perhaps the family are attending a high-brow dinner, with a rat seated in the centre, one of those miniature harnesses wrapped around its form. The entire restaurant's attention drawn to the billionaire family and the rodent they’ve brought with them in a way that borders on being alienated. Because rats are usually chased out of a restaurant, not brought in and treated like royalty. But who's to go against the Wayne family?

Maybe the reader is a villain or anti-hero that the Gotham vigilantes are tasked to capture, in which they end up becoming unhealthily attached to, to the point where they can't have the reader in their human form without the chance of being recognised. So instead the Waynes/vigilantes are always seen with a snake wrapped snugly around their necks, torsos, thighs, or arms. Or a ferret tied safely to their utility belts, folded comfortably in their pockets, or peeking out from inside their shirts. Perhaps the reader can shift into a some form of sea water creature, like a seahorse, jellyfish, or octopus. Where in that case they never even get the chance to ever leave the estate, unlike how they would as a reptile or mammal. Trapped in a large enclosure, in the middle of the manor, designed to accommodate your species perfectly, for life.

[persevereforahappyending]

No Man's Land |11|

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Reader

Summary: Sam can’t help but be drawn to the cute stranger from her gym, even if everything about them makes them the perfect suspect, just when Ghostface has returned.

Warnings: Talks of injuries, talks of killing, talks of attack

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You sat on a bed in the ambulance as you got stitched up, again. For the second time, in one day, you had to have your wound from the previous day restitched, then on top of that you needed the wound on your leg stitched. For once you got lucky and the cut on your arm didn’t go deep enough for stitches, the medic just cleaned it and wrapped it.

Much to Sam’s displeasure you refused to go to the hospital, again. You were fine though, you had a slight limp at the moment but once you got used to the pain, you’d be fine, you just needed to walk it off. Besides, you couldn’t waste time going to the hospital, it would take too long and two attacks in a day meant Ghostface could do it again. You weren’t about to leave Sam and her friends alone just to get properly patched up.

You hopped out of the ambulance with a groan, clenching your jaw as you tried not to focus on the pain that radiated throughout your leg. You walked off, trying not to flinch with each step. You looked down, pulling at your shirt as you took in the new blood stain from your torn stitches, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the blood on your pants from that stab wound. If people didn’t know you had literally just been attacked, they’d probably assumed you committed a murder.

“Survived to tell the tale again,” Kirby said, approaching you just like last time. “Seems Ghostface got some hits in,” she tilted her head, gesturing at the bandage on your arm.

You held up your arm, giving the bandage a look, then scoffed. “Cheap shots,” you said with an eye roll.

Kirby gave a knowing hum. “That’s how he does things.”

“I’m learning that,” you mumbled.

You would be prepared next time. The first time, you didn’t have anything, but you caught him off guard, until the second one appeared. The second time you were caught off guard, forced to run into a territory filled with civilians, you won that one, but you didn’t finish the job. And now the third time, you were once again caught off guard, without weapons, your only priority had been to make sure the others got away, taking Ghostface out was your second priority. The fourth time would be different, you would make sure of it. The next time you went up against Ghostface would be the last, for every single one of them.

“You got everyone out,” Kirby said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Not everyone,” you whispered. You looked across the way where you saw the coroner wheeling Quinn’s body out on the stretcher. A sheet was covering her face, but you knew she was under there. Bailey looked distraught as they stopped next to him, allowing him to say goodbye one last time.

You narrowed your eyes, Bailey was crying over his dead daughter, there was nothing out of the ordinary, it was the reaction anyone would expect from a father. Bailey had been the first on the scene this time, by several minutes before anyone else, as if he was already on his way there. There was a chance that was the case, he could have been coming by to see his daughter or update everyone on the case. There was something tugging at the back of your mind though, telling you not to take it at face value, Bailey was the last to arrive after the bodega attack, but the first on the scene to the apartment, which happened to be when his daughter was murdered.

You furrowed your brow; you and the girls had gone back to the apartment right after the attack. The only person who had left the apartment was Ethan, you knew the twins wouldn’t let some random stranger into the apartment, besides Quinn’s hookup, who was found dead in the bathtub. That meant Ghostface had to either have been in the apartment the whole time, which was improbable, there was no way he could have stayed hidden for so long. The other option was that he got in another way, possibly through one of the windows, which meant he had to climb up the fire escape. Your eyes tracked the fire escape from the ground up to where you knew Sam’s apartment was. The ladder wasn’t pushed down but the dumpster was close enough that if Ghostface jumped up on it he could have pulled himself up onto the ladder. It still should have made enough noise for someone to notice, but no one did, not until the phone call came in.

“I should get to work,” Kirby said. You nodded and watched her walk off towards the crime scene.

You looked around the area, seeing Chad with Mindy as she got patched up in the back of another ambulance. A medic checked out Anika right outside the ambulance, but you knew the worst Anika probably had was a concussion from being slammed into the wall. Sam and Tara weren’t too far from the ambulance as they talked to an officer. You noticed Danny standing off to the side by the gate and decided to walk over to him.

“Hey,” you said, giving him a nod.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, nodding at your arm.

“It’s nothing,” you waved it off.

“Almost bleeding out it my apartment doesn’t seem like nothing.”

You chuckled, you couldn’t help but nod. The cut on your arm and the tearing of your stitches really was nothing. The real issue was the stab wound on your leg, the knife had gone deep and was bleeding quite a bit before the medics got to you. Honestly, if you didn’t get help when you did you would have most definitely bled out, not that you were going to mention that to Sam or anyone else, but it was definitely something you should have gone to the hospital for.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you said. “That ladder stunt was crazy,” you smiled, shaking your head. “But it was fucking brilliant man.”

Danny chuckled and scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “Me? What about you?” he gestured at you. “Jumping from the middle of the ladder? Now, that,” he pointed at you. “That is fucking insane.”

You couldn’t argue with him there. That was one of the craziest stunts you had ever done, and you had jumped out of planes and helicopters before, though you always had a parachute. You were bleeding out, the ladder was unstable, if you had missed, if you didn’t fall to your death, you probably would have broken most of the bones in your body.

“Do you need a change of clothes?” Danny’s question caught you off guard. “I got some you could borrow since you look…” he gestured at all of you. You looked down at your bloody self, you wouldn’t be able to go back to your house and change again.

“Thanks,” you said. “But I got some in my car,” you pointed to your vehicle down the street. “But can I change in your apartment?” Danny nodded.

You made your way over to your car, fighting through the pain that shot through your leg at every step. You opened the back door and unzipped the duffle bag you kept back there; you made sure to always have a change of clothes and anything else you would need in your car. You grabbed your spare plain black t-shirt and black cargo pants. You were sure you’d look rather intimidating walking around in all black, but you needed to be ready for a fight.

You followed Danny up to his apartment, grimacing at the pool of blood on his hard wood floor. You would have to make sure to pay to get that cleaned up, you knew how hard blood was to get out of things. The cops had walked the apartment when they first arrived but because the attack didn’t happen there, they finished up after a few minutes and made their way over to the actual crime scene.

You made your way into Danny’s bathroom to quickly changed. You pulled off your bloodied shirt and had to do a double take when you caught site of yourself in the mirror. You were in great shape, spending most of your time training, when you weren’t deployed, but your body had been through a lot. The stab wound on your side and the cut down your arm was nothing compared to the rest of you. Even the wound on your leg didn’t seem like much. Your body was litter with scars from knife and gun shot wounds, all the times you almost died. You subconsciously brought a hand to the tattoo over your heart, it was the insignia of army special forces, with the initials of your teammates throughout. As your finger brushed over the tattoo you could feel the scar underneath, the bullet that should have killed you.

You shook your head, pushing the memories down as far as they would go. You couldn’t be thinking about that, Sam needed you at your best, you couldn’t let your own trauma get in the way of that. You gripped the sink until your knuckles turned white and kept your eyes pinched shut until you had completely pushed everything away. When you looked up again, you recognized the soldier in the mirror, the one that would do whatever it took to make sure the mission succeeded and right now the mission was saving Sam and her friends. You quickly threw on the clean clothes and made your way back down to the others.

“You fuck with my family, you die,” Bailey said just as you walked out of the apartment.

You furrowed your brow as he talked to Sam. You knew he was upset; it was natural for a father to want revenge on his daughter. However, it hadn’t even been an hour since Quinn was killed, it didn’t make sense for him to be so cold and logically already.

You made your way over to Sam and Tara’s side just as Gale Weathers walked up. “I’m glad you’re okay,” Gale said.

“Don’t even start,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not here for that.” Her gaze flicked to you; you could tell she still wanted to ask you questions but she didn’t.

“Bullshit.”

“Truly,” Gale tried again. “Off the record,” she rolled her eyes. “I found something you’ll all want to see.”

Gale didn’t say what she wanted to show everyone, she just said it was connected to Ghostface. Sam and Tara began gathering the others, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow when Ethan appeared. Chad kept flicking a glare at him, you weren’t sure what happened while you were changing but if Chad was suspicious of Ethan, then whatever happened certainly couldn’t have been bad. Once everyone was gathered you all made your way to the location Gale sent.

You stood close to Sam as everyone gathered at the front of an alleyway, as Gale explained the two kids from Tara’s class who were killed rented the building. It was broad daylight, making an attack unlikely but not impossible. Attacking someone during the day was a risk, higher probability of being seen, but it was unexpected, it was a way to catch the target off guard.

Gale and Kirby argued over how Gale found the place. You knew Gale was a good reporter and reporters had the habit of finding things they shouldn’t, but the fact that Kirby didn’t know the place existed was concerning, considering she was in the FBI and specialized in Ghostface cases. You glanced over everyone else, Chad stood next to Ethan, who had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking uncomfortable and out of place as usual. Mindy had her arm wrapped around Anika, whispering something in her ear. Anika hadn’t said a word since the attack, she just had a distant look in her eyes as her entire body shook. You had seen that look plenty of times, in soldiers after their first fight, in survivors after an attack, it wasn’t easy to get past, but everyone did eventually, with time.

You followed the group down the alley, with Gale leading the way. Gale swiped a card, unlocking a large metal door at the end of the alley. The door led down a dimly lit hallway, the dated red wallpaper was peeling, revealing the stained drywall underneath. You looked down, there was a thin dark red carpet to match the wall, though you could feel how sticky it was every time you lifted your foot. You came to a stop, furrowing your brow as Gale swung open a door and stepped into a metal cage of some sort, before swiping the card again and opening another metal door.

“What is this place?” Mindy asked.

“Just wait,” Gale said, before disappearing. She walked off to the side, a second later there was a loud click that echoed throughout the room, and then all the lights came on.

You couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open, it was some sort of old movie theater. “It’s a shrine,” Gale said as she rejoined the group. You looked around, seeing she had flipped the breaker.

“Holy shit,” Mindy whispered.

The theater was filled with display cases, all of them full of stuff you assumed was from previous Ghostface attacks. It even seemed that whoever created the shrine dressed up mannequins in the actual clothes from the killers and victims, at least that’s what you gathered from the bloodstains on the clothes in question. All the displays led straight to the stage, and in center stage was a set of nine Ghostface costumes, each of them in their own special display case.

You walked through the displays, your eyes scanning over all the information. You had heard bits and pieces from the news over the years, but you never knew it was anything like this. Whoever these new people were, they clearly had done their research, they seemed to have planned everything quite thoroughly. Everything from all previous Ghostface attacks was in one room, that definitely wasn’t a coincidence, you knew something bigger was at play, everything was too easy.

Kirby said she had been investigating the two college kids, they were stupid enough to get on Kirby’s radar before they ever even killed someone. Yet, this place was apparently theirs and hidden so well even Kirby couldn’t find it. On top of that, even if they were rich kids, there seemed to be too much evidence, there was no way they got everything by simply bribing cops.

You stopped at one of the displays, there were sketches of Sam and Tara. You figured it must have been from the attack last year. In the display was also crime scene photos, and photos of Tara. You flicked your eyes to Tara as she made her way up the stage towards her sister, just based on the photos she had endured one hell of an attack. Your eyes then fell on a picture of some guy, smiling at the camera, the nameplate at the bottom read ‘Richie Kirsch’ Sam’s ex-boyfriend. You wrinkled your nose at the picture, you didn’t know the full story, didn’t know anything about the guy, but you didn’t like him from a simple photo.

“So, what,” Chad said. “Someone killed these guys and took over?” you made your way up to the center of the stage where everyone else had already gathered.

“If this were a normal Stab movie,” Mindy said. “This would be the killers lair.”

“But this isn’t a normal Stab movie,” Kirby said.

This wasn’t a movie at all. You might not have been used to this whole thing, but you didn’t get all the movie references. This wasn’t a movie, even if some psycho was inspired by a movie, this was real life, real people died, and Ghostface was just a normal guy behind a mask. You wouldn’t deny that the place certainly looked like a lair, they were definitely right about that part. The idea that two kids created the whole space, only to end up dead and have someone else take up the Ghostface mantle and know about this room just didn’t seem plausible. All your senses were telling you to take nothing at face value, that there was something deeper going on.

Taglist: @thatshyboy1998 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @acutenobody @godamnityess

@luvwanda @rqizzu @riyaexee @bella423 @rayisaknight

@assgradiangod @canyonyodeler

[sim0nril3y]

12 Days of Kinkmas | Day One: Toys

Note: It is the begining of the 12 Days of Kinkmas and we are starting off with toys! Enjoy! Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, use of toys (m receiving), oral (m receiving), handjob (m receiving), canon-typical swearing.

After an evening out with your girlfriends having a little Christmas celebration with some festive cocktails, pulling of Christmas crackers and even a joyful present exchange. You had purchased a nice stationery set for your chosen friend and the one that had received your name had gotten you a very interesting present. It sent you into a fit of laughter but then your mind had spiralled with dozen different ideas.

As you had returned home to Simon, he was watched football highlights on the TV, finishing his second beer of the night, eyes flitting from the screen and then back to where you were happily telling him about your evening. “… Oh, and I got a present…” You held out the festive themed bag, tag hanging off with the writing ‘Hope you have a very Merry Christmas xo’

“Lucky you…” Simon mentioned, slipping the silk handles from your fingers and peaking inside, seeing a box tucked away inside. “You already opened this?” Quirking a brow and gazing in your direction as you nodded in response at him. “You know only naught girls open their presents early…” He muttered with a teasing edge to his tone. “Well, I think you’re going to want to open this one too, Simon~”

A moment later he tugged open the bag and pulled out a box. A frown plastered his lips as he turned it around to view the proud display of a small wand vibrator across the front, descriptive words announcing just how powerful the device was and the amount of settings that it had. “Bloody hell.” Simon muttered, glancing at you then with a little smirk. “What’ve you been telling your friends about me? They think I can’t make you cum or something?”

The most delightful giggle fell from your lips. “No, I think I know who this is from and they are just very sex positive.” Then shrugging a little as you pinched it from his hands and observed the box. “They probably gifted it for us to use together~” You teased with a wiggle of your brows.

For a moment Simon looked frazzled, then laughed. “Seems like more of a gift for you, love.” Then patting your knee. “I’m not opposed to you having fun with it though.” He squeezed then gently with a tender smile. “Go on. Up to bed. I’ll be up in a bit.”

The toy remained in the box until well over a week later, Simon was laying back on your bed, legs spread with you knelt between them, carefully removing your mouth from Simon’s rigid cock and glancing up into his eyes with a mischiefs smile on your face. “Why don’t we give our new toy a try?” Your hand wrapped around and massaging his cock up and down slowly.

“Babe…” Simon huffed, head tilted back into the pillow and choking out a soft moan. “It’s not gonna… gonna feel good for me. You use it and I’ll watch.” He encouraged softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek soothingly. “How do you know it won’t feel good if you don’t try?” Tilting your head into his touch gently and nuzzling into him. “We can take it slow. We can take it at your pace, baby.” You coaxed.

For a moment or two Simon remained quiet and then you said. “I don’t want to pressure you. I won’t-” “We can try.” Cutting you off and gazing at you warmly. Simon can feel the excitement rushing through you, the way your hand squeezes his length and then excitedly reach into the bedside draw to yank it open and tug out the box. It was clear this wasn’t the first time that you were opening it, the box opened with ease and the toy rolled out into your open palm. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop.” You promised in a sweet tone, beginning to speed up your hand on his cock, tapping the button on the vibrator and smiling as it buzzed to life.

“Babe-” Each of times thoughts and worries seemed to wash away the moment that the head of the vibrator nestled against the underside of the head of his cock. “Fuckin’ hell.” He grit out through his teeth, chin tilted up and panting gently before glancing back down at your overly pleased face. “That feel good?”

Reaching out Simon’s hand gripped onto your wrist, holding it between his fingers so tight you were sure that it was going to leave marks. “Do you want more or less?” You questioned, glancing up at him to try and gauge his reaction.

“K-keep going.” Simon ground out in particularly a snarl, tilting his head back again as his hips arched up. “Okay~” You purred playfully, carefully rolling the vibrator around the head of his cock trying to find the most sensitive place to play with.

There was no denying that Simon looked so damn handsome like this. His strong form was pulled taut, flexing and rippling each time you tried a new place. His cock was leaking down over your hand down, fighting back an intense orgasm that was going to burst from him. “D-don’t st-stop…” He requested in little more than a grunt, his hips flexing upwards to attempt to fuck into your hand. “Hey… Hey…” You coaxed him softly. “Let me… let me do this for you.”

Carefully moving the vibrator his shaft and nestling it under his balls that were drawn up tight, leaning forward you wrapped your lips around the engorged head of his cock, listening to him groan lowly. It was a mere few minutes of suckling before Simon emptied into your mouth with a low grunt, eyes rolling, toes curling, muscles contacting.

Turning off the vibrator and placing it aside Simon huffed and whined, body convulsing a few more times before practically melting into the sheets. “You okay?” You questioned, rubbing your hand over his lower stomach soothingly. “Yeah…” Simon huffed. “Yeah, m’good.” Glancing down at you with tired dark eyes, soft smile playing on his lips. “Good.” You giggled gently. “Does this mean that you’re gonna trust me next time that I say something is gonna feel good?” Your free hand rubbed his inner thigh and Simon smirked before snatching it away and growling out. “Don’t push it.”

12 Days of Kinkmas | Regular Masterlist | Ask | 14-12-2023

[rynnthefangirl]

“I don’t get why people are so mad about the Mad Queen, Dany’s character has been building to this and it makes perfect sense for her!”

Okay, so even if we pretend for a second that Dany burning KL at the time and in the way she did made sense (it didn’t), there’s a whole other element as to why the Mad Queen arc was SO infuriating. And that is because for two seasons the entire logic of the show bends backwards until it breaks in order to get Dany to the point where they could try to justify that act.

Let’s look at some examples:

Tyrion instructs Dany to invade Casterly Rock, leaving Highgarden unprotected. It makes zero sense for a character renowned for their intelligence to propose this. CR is a defensive stronghold that offers no tactical advantage to a Conquerer, while Highgarden is one of Dany’s strongest allies with the funds to support her conquest. Dany loses House Tyrell and the Reach because of this.

Tyrion also advises Dany to send some of her most valuable men Beyond the Wall to capture a wight to convince Cersei of their existence. Again, this makes no sense for Tyrion to propose. He of all people should know that Cersei is a deranged narcissist who could never be trusted. I guess Tyrion kind of forgot his sisters central character traits. Dany loses a dragon because of this.

Dany also would not have lost Viserion if she had not arrived in time to rescue Jon and the others. But lucky for them (and unlucky for Viserion), ravens can now fly from the wall to Dragonstone in a single night.

“Dany kind of forgot about the iron fleet.” Apparently this Conquerer queen heading south for war just didn’t send out any sort of scouts, and entirely forgot about one of the like two forces that she needs to watch out for. None of her war advisors remember this either. She loses Rhaegal and Missandei because of this.

Cersei decides to behead Missandei as opposed to keeping her prisoner in the Red Keep in order to discourage Dany from just burning it down.

The Iron Fleet— which would later fail to strike down Drogon despite firing dozens of scorpions— is able to take Rhaegal down with two back to back perfect shots. Also apparently they can see Rhaegal well enough to do that, but neither Rhaegal nor Drogon nor Dany were able to see them.

Upon coming to Westeros, Dany has three dragons, a huge army of Unsullied, a huge army of Dothraki, a portion of the Iron Fleet, the full support of Highgarden with all their wealth and armies and probably much of their Bannermen, and the backing of Dorne. Dany is told that this is not enough, and she will not be able to take KL without tons of innocent bloodshed. Dany then proceeds to lose 2/3 dragons, Highgarden, Dorne, the Iron Fleet, and a huge portion of her Unsullied and Dothraki armies. In exchange, she gets an army of tired unmotivated northerners. Meanwhile Cersei obtains all of Highgardens wealth, the Golden Company, the Iron Fleet, and a massive force of scorpions. Dany proceeds to take Kings Landing and force a surrender with virtually zero civilian bloodshed.

Dany is portrayed as unreasonable and irrational for wanting to immediately attack Kings Landing with her full force. This perceived irrationality is the basis for her advisors questioning and betraying her. Dany is later proved correct in all of her courses of action when— again— she forces KL surrender quickly and cleanly and with virtually no civilian bloodshed.

Varys, a character renowned for his patience and ability to play the game and wait to strike until the opportune moment, a man who sat through Joffrey’s reign and did nothing, suddenly feels that Daenerys (who has not done anything worse than what Varys already knew her capable of when he decided to support her) is such a risk that he tries to poison her before she has even defeated Cersei for him. Again, the supposed reckless plan that Varys betrays Dany for is later proven to have been the correct plan.

Cersei faces no backlash from any of her actions. Nobody cares that she blew up the Westerosi Vatican. Nobody cares that she murdered the Queen of Westeros. Nobody cares that she helped orchestrate the fall death of Ned Stark and bears responsibility for the subsequent war and massacre of many of the remaining starks. Nobody cares that she is very very unlikely to accept Northern Independence, and very likely to hold a grudge against the north and house stark and seek to wipe them out. Cersei faces zero criticism or opposition from anyone besides Daenerys, and dethroning her is treated as an unnecessary inconvenience that nobody really cares that much about, and are only doing because Dany wants to.

These are just the examples I can think of off the top of my head. There are surely many many more.

Dany was too OP coming into season 7. As such, in order to make the plot work and reach their predetermined Mad Queen ending, the very fabric of the universe twisted and warped for the explicit purpose of taking away everything she had and loved. Dumbass plans from characters known for the intelligence, fast travel, discarding of the “action and consequence” internal logic of the show for Dany’s opposition, forgetting of basic war time strategy. Cersei’s forces are a formidable threat when Dany needs to look reckless and bad for wanting to attack Kings Landing. Cersei’s forces then proceed to not be a threat at all and collapse like a tower of cards when Dany needs to look awful and evil for burning down a city that surrendered so easily.

So yeah, even if in that moment you believe Dany would burn down Kings Landing, the fact that Dany fans had to sit there and watch as every single aspect of the show was manipulated in the most illogical way for the sole purpose of making her the villain…? Is it really in character if the fundamental logic of the universe has to change in order for it to happen?

[workingbynyx]

heey, saw that you were open for requests so I would like to ask for a romcom jason todd x reader where the reader is flirty and has a crush on Red Hood, but has no idea that he is Jason Todd (their regular at the cafe they own) so he gets kinda flustered everytime he sees the reader when he is going to get coffee

(hope you can understand this, english is not my first language)

Beautiful Stranger — Jason Todd x GN!Reader

↷ summary — after a faithful encounter with red hood one night ago, you quickly developed a crush on the masked vigilante. but, would you believe if the cute regular at your coffee shop was him? ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x gn!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — romance, comedy, a bunch of fluff ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — none! other than a few curse words, use of y/n and possible grammar errors ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hi anon! dw i LOVEEEE that request sm, i hope you have fun reading this as much as i had writing it ^^ i might've switched it up a bit in the process so i'm so sorry for that 😭 i also figured i'd use the wayne family adventures version of jason for this one since it kinda fits the whole theme of this fic hihi and he turned into such a simp in this so it might be ooc at some point help, enjoy reading! ˎˊ˗

"what the hell are you doing here walkin' around late at night?" the masked man said in between short breaths after taking down a robber that's been following you since you closed down the café for tonight. you were lucky enough to have 'the' red hood on patrol and save you from a potential robbery. the thought of him guiding, if not stalking, you and jumping on the thug as soon as he's about to make a move somehow made your heart skip at the act of service...if its even counted with them now laying on the ground unconscious.

what you didn't know is this man was jason, the regular you'd have come in around 9 to 10 am to have his morning coffee and sit around the shop until lunch. you always observed the guy to be somewhat mysterious but endearing at the same time, he'd always ask for the same coffee and pastry combo over and over again, not bothering to change his order. he became quite an easy customer to remember at some point, other than the fact that he had white streaked hair which made him attractive and memorable to you. in fact, everytime he came in all you had to do was ask "the usual?" and jason'll nod along then go back to his corner, mouthing a silent 'thank you' when you deliver his treat and maybe even strike up a conversation if he's in the mood.

but right now, jason is simply the infamous masked red vigilante who just kicked some ass for your own sake.

"my apartment is this way, how was i supposed to know robbers lurked around here" you replied in return, tucking in one of your hands inside the pocket of your coat as you froze in front of him. jason began approaching you and stopped when you came face to face, the height difference between the two of you forced you to tilt your head upwards— the all-white lens of his helmet staring down at you. "watch the news, its not safe out here. take the route to your right next time, and bring at least a pepper spray with you" if only his mask didn't have a built in voice changer you would've known seconds ago it's him.

you were stunned for a moment as he listed down things that'd probably go straight out your other ear. "y'know, for someone i just met you're oddly protective over me" you finally spoke, a hint of mischief underlying your tone. that's when you begun wondering who is it under that costume. is he cute? is he what you're imagining him to be like?

jason, on the other hand, blinked a couple times out of confusion if it weren't for his get up covering his entire features. "what?" he said. "nothing, it's just...i didn't think a vigilante would care so much for a civilian like me" you answered, an innocent smile creeping up your lips like an idiot in love. "its my job. obviously i should look out for the people of Gotham, shouldn't i?" he crossed his arms across his chest, covering the red insignia of his bulletproof suit.

"obviously, i guess i didn't have the special treatment like i thought" you practically said with a slight pout forming when you look up to him, going silent for a moment. "do you really tell all the people you save to bring pepper spray or just me? i wanna know if i got the special advisory from you at least" you added as a tease, earning a slight frustrated groan from jason afterwards. "i don't have time for this—" "well I do" you bravely chimed in without missing a beat. "i got all night even"

the sigh jason had let out was almost comical, he took a step backward when it's really just him starting to get flustered by his barista seemingly flirting with his other identity, who would've thought you'd find him attractive? not jason that's for sure. "get home safe, take the route i told you if you wanna keep your wallet stocked" then he noticed the small cut on your cheekbone, it must've been from the pocket knife the thug had.

he briefly pointed at it, "you got something" you lifted your fingers to search for it only to be met with a slight sting when you did, a small amount of blood staining your index finger. you hissed at the feeling, squinting your eye when it lingered for a bit. "calm down, its not that serious" jason said. "some alcohol and bandaid should do the trick" and you took his advice, you certainly wouldn't allow yourself to show up at work with a random cut to your face.

"y'know why don't you help and patch me up at this point? i could use some assistance" and you still had the nerve to decide and toy around with him for a bit...to see how far the both of you are willing to go. to be fair, you just wanted to know who was it under that mask— this could potentially lead to it if you're lucky. "what are you, 8?" jason replied. "no but i'm surely a 10" you winked playfully, the corner of your lip turning into a smirk as you watched his body language intently.

"jesus christ.." jason muttered under his breath, starting to walk away from this situation he's stuck in. "aw c'mon! that was a smooth line admit it! oh okay— well, thank you red..man! i'll see you soon...i think" you yelled from the same position you're in, seeing his tall frame go farther in the distance. jason didn't say nothing in return, but he kept a secret smile under his mask as he disappeared from sight.

its been a couple weeks since your last encounter with red hood, you took most of his suggestions that night and started going the safer route when you had to be on the closing shift. since then, you've been at the lower risk of getting robbed again thanks to him and his unforgettable presence. but it's not only you who hasn't stopped thinking about that night, jason was still trying to relive the moment of his barista basically flirting with him. he figured you would've known it's him within seconds...guess not.

it didn't bother him, it's the thought of your reaction to him being behind the helmet is what. jason wouldn't blame you though, imagine how shocking it would be to find out your regular is a vigilante at night. it's like betrayal but in a different form. he usually doesn't care about revealing his identity to the people he knows, but when it came to you it's different. he's conscious for the first time, he was overthinking things and coming up with plans how to avoid it from happening in many ways possible so he stopped visiting the shop for a while. it's becoming weird, you two weren't even close to begin with— so why was he stressing so much about it?

while jason spent most of his nights in Gotham thinking about you, you started noticing his frequent visits slowly turned little to nothing at all. you found yourself always anticipating the sound of the bell when the doors open to each customer only to be met with disappointment when he didn't come through. and today seems to be the same, you kept glancing over the glass doors hoping you'd see a tall, slightly scary and muscular man enter...until he finally did.

you feel your heart skip a beat seeing him after a while, the same feeling you got a couple nights ago but you didn't mind. you quickly went over the cashier, mentally ready to take his order with a smile. "hey! welcome back, i didn't see you in here for a while" you greeted when he stopped right at the counter. jason wore a red hoodie and a brown leather jacket layering over it, he must've liked wearing that a lot. "oh...uh yeah," he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with something. "i got caught up in work. i didn't have the time to stop buy for coffee" that's a lie. "but i'm here now" is he really?

"oh, you must've been really busy then?" you added, listening to his reason. "definitely yeah," lies once again. jason sucked in a breath, looking away to get a glimpse of the menu like he really is getting anything else other than an americano and cookies. "got anything new f'me?" he asked which took you by surprise. "you're not getting the usual anymore?" you said. "eh well, it gets old after a while" he says.

"that's fair, well we got new cake flavors if you wanna try them out. what would you like?" you then tap a few things into the register to input his order to which he asks for a latte and dark chocolate cake. you tell him his total and he pays for it, giving him his change and receipt. jason mouths a thank you and quickly goes to sit on one of the chairs by the window where you can still see him right in the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at your direction while you made his coffee which is strange since he never did that.

jason on the other hand seems to be more fidgety, he figured he'd tell you the truth today after you get off of work but it's easier said than done as he's starting to think it was a bad idea. his frequent visits gave him the advantage to eventually learn about your schedule and today happens to be an early leave. he mentally hyped himself up, hunched over the chair with his elbows resting on both his thighs while he waited.

a few minutes passed by and you eventually finished making everything, putting the small plate and fork on a plate along with his drink as you brought it over to his table. you slightly crouched down to carefully place the plate in front of him followed by the drink and fork, jason waited til you were done and looked up to you. he notices the cut still there on the side of your cheek, seemingly in the healing process now. he cleared his throat and nudged his head toward you. "you alright? you got a slit right there" he started.

"hm? oh this. it's uh, it's nothing. i almost got mugged a few nights ago and had to hold up a pretty decent fight" you explained, clutching the tray near to your chest. "oh? well, did you win at least?" jason laid back into the chair, still looking up towards you to see if you'll mention about the 'hero' that saved you. "i guess in some way yeah, someone showed up and kicked some ass within seconds" you said, a smile slowly forming at the thought of red hood creeping your mind once again. "it's a shame i didn't get his name though, he seems like a nice guy"

"...who did you think it was?" jason started, a lump in his throat started forming the more the conversation went on. he waited for an answer, desperate to know what you think and what could be the reason why you did all that during that night. "i have no clue, but he had a red helmet and a pretty sick suit! i'm not a fan of vigilante but that dude's doing it for me. i wanted to ask him out but he looks out of it, he might've been tired so i don't blame him" a slight blush creeped into jason's cheek when he felt it heat up at what you said, he found it amusing that you were practically talking about him while having no idea at the same time.

"that's..that's great" he nodded along, clearing his throat once more as he focused on the food in front of him then back to you. "i uh, i also wanted to ask" your ears perked up at this, pursing your lips into a thin smile. "what time are you...getting off?" he finally says even if he already knew the answer. you were taken back by this, your brows raising at the sudden question. "oh uhm, probably in an hour or so. i have an early leave today so it might be even less than that" you started. "why'd you ask?"

"i..." his voice trailed off, he doesn't seem to get the words out without it sounding like he's asking you out— well, technically he is. "nothing, just curious that's all" he gave a stiff smile as he reached for his fork. "oh okay well, i'll be at the counter if you need me" you said with a smile as you walked away before one of your managers yell at you again for making unneccessary small talk.

jason waited until you went back before releasing a disappointed sigh at himself, he sets down the fork and covered his face with both of his hands— feeling embarrassed at how stupid he sounds asking the question and completely fumbling it over. 'you just had to fuck it up, did you?' he thought to himself. he's never gonna get this over with.

a few minutes passed by and you see jason finishing up his snack, the small plate of cake now left with smudges of frosting and small bits of crumbs and the cup of coffee almost emptied out. you were relieved that he liked the new menu item after months of eating the same thing, it might be the start of something new for him you think. although his question from earlier never left your mind, you tried searching for answers and it all came down to him possibly asking you out.

but why would he? he's way out of your league and he probably knows it, why would he lower his standards to a café worker when he could have anyone out there to go on dates with. was he messing with you or is he trying to give signals? it could explain why he always visited your café and not the famous ones in the city but still, you didn't wanna assume. maybe he's just trying to be friends.

you didn't even realize that jason was already standing on the other side of the counter while you were lost in your thoughts doing the dishes, you heard him call out to you which snapped you out of it. you turn to look behind and see him there with a sheepish smile. you quickly closed the faucet and wiped your hands off as you went up to him, "hey! what's up?"

"nothing, i just wanted to say i'm gonna get going. i still have a few things to catch up on back home" "oh that's fine! goodluck with whatever you're up to then" you cheered him on aa he slightly chuckled, the sound of hearing his laughter for the first time did something to you and you didn't know what it was that made it so attractive. "thanks, i'll see you around" jason finally says with a thin smile.

you waved goodbye and went back to what you're doing as you're trying to shake off the lingering feeling that you just felt, "and y/n" you heard him call out to you again. "make good use of the spray, that's a special advisory" jason said proudly, making his way out of the shop before you could even process what he said

"thank you! I'll ma— wait..." then it finally registered. "WHAT?!"

[doveywovy]

Schrodinger's incest au where tobirama is revealed to have the sharingan mid-battle with the uchiha, so there's no hiding it, and immediately sparks a massive issue along with an uneasy truce- the issue being how did an uchiha end up part of the senju main family?

did his mom deliberately seduce an uchiha to commit bloodline theft, which is what the uchiha elders believe? or, as the senju elders argue, did an uchiha rape his mother? and, this is pretty major, which Uchiha is his fucking dad?

regardless, hashirama and madara both come down on the gentler side of both those arguments, which is that regardless of how it happened tobirama is a senju-uchiha kid and he can't be held responsible for either of his presumed parents actions. So there's a very uneasy peace but it is happening, and Tobirama is spending a lot of time with the Uchiha while they try to figure everything out (under constant surveillance of course). and two things happen

Madara is slowly convinced that Tobirama is actually his half-brother. Some of his behaviors remind him immensely of his now-dead siblings and parts of his appearance remind him of Tajima, and, ultimately, he wants it to be true. He wants another little brother. His memories of his dad are already kind of fucked from Tajima prolonging the war and forcing the end of his friendship and refusing peace treaties when Hashirama took over the Senju, so he's okay besmirching his memory more if it means he gets to have a new little brother out of it. He wants the peace to hold and Tobirama as a connection between him and Hashirama and- this war stole his other siblings from him. It's kind of like the universe giving him something to make up for it?

2. Izuna is convinced tobirama is the product of one of the low rank civilian merchants who barely counts as an uchiha. and tobirama's mom probably did this on purpose in the hopes of bloodline theft, and she just got very lucky that it actually worked out. He still hero-worships his dad and would be deeply devastated if it turned out his dad had cheated, so he absolutely REFUSES to believe it.

and then. it also becomes a matter of necessity to him because he's falling in love with tobirama now that they're spending a bunch of time together outside of battle, outside the concept of enemies. and thrice-removed cousins getting married is the norm to the uchiha but half brothers would be super gross even to them. So he can't be tajima's son too.

so at a certain point it turns into like

madara, kind of crazy from grief: he's totally our brother because sometimes he sneezes exactly like my dead little brother did and if anyone says hes not im going to explode

izuna, very horny: he's NOT our brother he's nothing like ANY of our brothers, and he clearly mostly takes after his senju mom and NOBODY MAKE THIS WEIRD FOR ME

tobirama, meanwhile, is struggling alone and mostly internally with the massive changes to his self-identity. could someone please pause in fighting over who his dad is and help him out?