#Why can't you treat them like you treat your peers?

[nosferatufaggot]

Children and the elderly are very similar in the fact that a lot of you don't TRULY see them as actual people. We've had talks about treating children more as people because we were once children and know that we were people as children, but most of us haven't been the elderly. And it's gonna be a terrifying switch from being seen as a person to being seen as something people need to take care of for a few hours as community service and then go home.

We can empathize with children because we were children. How long until the elderly are seen as people?

[skrunksthatwunk]

hey real quick bc i haven't seen anyone really talk about it; fuck Hoarders. what a disgusting fucking show. like i know a lotta content boils down to "let's gawk at mentally ill or poor or whatever ppl" but this one specifically really peels my paint. it's sickening. let's spend an hour walking around someone's house and going "wow!! look how fucked this is!!! i can't believe you live like this (despite having done like 13 seasons of this)!!!! you really need to get your act together, buster!" and then interviewing the family to get sound bites demonstrating how much of an Unreasonable Burden the subject is and (without actually helping any of the mental health issues that may lead someone to hoard) roll their eyes at them when they are upset at someone taking and trashing/destroying their precious belongings (or are made to do it themselves). and then half the time in the where are they now segment it's like "yeah they relapsed lol idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯" like??? no shit dumbass.

i don't care how strange their homes or habits are. these people are deserving of compassion and real, honest help. they don't need people to marvel at how Kooky Wacky Bonkers™ they are, and they don't need people to hurt them just because they don't understand what they see in their possessions or are embarrassed by knowing them or whatever.

we don't need another voyeuristic savior-complex charade where the condition for The Most Half-Assed Help You've Ever Seen is being publicly humiliated and having to destroy things that mean a lot to you. what the fuck.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Antiblackness Isn't Sexy!

As #Kinktober is upon us, I want to take this time to remind everyone that certain things may not carry the same "sexy" connotation for everyone! This isn't just a "your yuck is my yum" situation, this is a "hey, you're being racist" situation. Now if that's what you enjoy, I can't tell you otherwise. But if you'd like to be considerate towards your Black readers and peers, here are *some* (not all!) things to keep in mind:

1) Objectification is not respect. You can think Black people are sexy- I certainly do! That does not mean treating us like sex toys. An example: if your first thought when you look at a Black male character, is "This'll be good smut, I bet his dick is gigantic"- if your first thought is about their genitals and that they're a good fuck... That is weird. Abeg. Nothing else stood out to you? Just ye olde "Black men have big dicks?"

There's a racist and dehumanizing history behind the oversexualization of Black men, Black bodies in general. Sure, big penises are not insulting or bad, but just as you don't want to be brought down to your bits... Don't do it to us. We can be sexy without being objectified. You can think we're sexy without objectifying us!

2) Making your Black character more sexually aggressive (if fic: -than their canon counterpart). Your Black character having a high libido is fine, but if you've essentially written a sex pest, especially in comparison to a nonblack counterpart... Why? Why do you think that they're automatically the one that would be like that? One example of that is the whole "step on me mommy" thing with confidently sexy Black women. What makes you deem she's the "aggressive" one? She could be a gentle pillow princess.

3) Making your Black character more physically hulking (if fic: -than their canon counterpart). They don't look like that, you know they don't look like that, and you need to consider why you felt the need. Especially in comparison to their nonblack counterparts.

4) Chains and whips, Specifically the large, hulking Black or Brown character in chains held by a skinny white character. Especially if they're like a werewolf. You know why these visuals can be questionable! I know the intended symbolism is supposed to be steamy and animalistic, a bodice ripper deal. But think about it- how often have you seen the opposite- with a skinny Black person holding a hulking, animalistic white person in chains? What imagery are we evoking when we draw this, constantly? We are not animals, we are not raging, uncontrollable sex beasts.

Consensual sex and kink are supposed to involve respect between all parties. Respect, communication, vulnerability, and trust. You can have an interesting, sexually active, high libido, kinky Black character without morphing them a stereotype to be used for the sexual satisfaction of white viewers. Just as white people that do kink are humans with inner lives, so are we. Do better by your Black characters, and your Black readers, by showing us that respect. 👍🏾

[kalims]

⋆ too drunk to recognize your boyfriend

feat. third years of diasomnia

malleus

"I.. have a boyfriend,"

to an extent. the guarded, suspicious look on your face would have concerned malleus to no belief, to others. he wouldn't have bat an eye whatsoever, but it's you so the feeling crawls up his spine and clouds his heat. he can't help the slight nudge of offense clouding his face cause you definitely shouldn't have any reason to make such a face to his.

the more his arm reaches out towards you—to ground your swaying form perhaps, the more you seem to be inching away from him. which shouldn't make sense at all! "child of man?" he murmurs. dropping the attempt to console you, to which you squint at him. back pressed against the front door to his dorm.

"who are you?!" you point at him, and he blinks. mortification spreads in his head. you've.. accumulated amnesia?!

malleus' fingers clench around the fabric on his chest, just after he had retracted the outstretched limb in fear of frightening you even more. there's a certain stiffness to his hand that illicit a drop of sweat from his forehead. him? he's your mal?

if he had the nerve to cry, he would.

but of course, you remain a priority. you exhibit unnatural behavior. no one just forgets important details in a day! you especially, won't forget about him! and he won't let you, ever.

you sway. your eyes darting around, and squinting like you're struggling to focus on one subject of your attention, a factor that might affect it is the fact you keep looking around instead on settling on something, preferably him. and, malleus is torn between steadying you, or him.

he chooses you.

despite your half hearted protest that audibly makes him sulk more, he twists the door to the dorm open and ushers you inside. not too much of a struggle, if anything, you seem lighter, and he almost actually hauled you around with minimal effort.

"must be a good night," a voice purrs, malleus doesn't have to glance at the source to know that it's lilia. years spent with the man does wonder with familiarity. it took him a couple of decades to get used to him. strangely enough he feels like he's known you longer, despite not.

the statement makes the taller male frown. lilia though, keeps the tiny smile, now tickled with a hint of amusement as the rubies shift from your blubbering form to malleus' face. oh? he's upset now. lilia muses. it's easy to ascertain his boy's move, like a sixth sense.

so lilia decides to probe further. "no? your face tells me otherwise."

malleus huffs a little. one of the habits he never seemed to grow out of ever since he learned to keep his... more draconic traits at bay. "you are less than accurate with your assumption," his eye twitches, either torn between distressed or irritation. despite the conflicting behavior, he still manages to treat you with a gentle hand while leading you towards the couch.

"it is a very terrible day." malleus continues. sad enough to complain, but fond of you enough to take the hint from your apparent cautious behavior towards him. lilia almost laughs when he spies him gloomy, sitting on the far end, away from you.

the lightning strikes just as the clouds roll in. lilia peers behind the curtains, chuckling a little at the weather.

well! he just hadn't seen malleus moping around this much since, what? when that gold trinket wouldn't fit in his tower anymore? "why so, my dear?" lilia coos, positively charmed by the 'adorable' disposition.

of course, he already knows. he'd heard your exchange moments ago.

lilia retains the easy look. "the child of man has forgotten about me," malleus explains. looking more stressed by the second. "whoever has done this, will pay." from a sad, faraway look to rage suddenly. "I beg of you, please return them." then switches back...?

he has half the mind to pretend like you're never gonna return normal but decides against it.

"of course!" lilia chirps. "they'll be well by tomorrow."

and, malleus looks like he had been holding the world by his shoulders seconds ago, a sigh of relief.

the next day, you're not sure why malleus is introducing himself in concerning detail. do you really need to know what color his assigned blanket was when he was given birth to...?

lilia

if anything, he's really the one who enabled your behavior.

"just one more." , "oh my, need another?" , "you look like you need it, come on now, don't be shy, you only live once~"

concerned, silver steadied you as you wobble on your feet. babbling about some nonsense under your breath which only illicits the boy to cast a disapproving glance at lilia (who only wears an amused smile).

"seems like they had quite the night." a cheery comment from the latter, and silver makes no move to resist when he moved closer with silent steps, then pries you to his side inside with a gentleness that would prove that he isn't.. actually the reason for your state, but not really.

lilia cooed, like he'd coddled them before. silver thinks but it is so distinct from the way he used to coax them into bed. "time for bed."

you peel your eyes open, squinting with a crease between your brows. you tug at your arm, of which doesn't really budge but lilia decides to humor the struggle so he lets go and raises his brows. "I'm not a kid!" you say, then turn your head to the side—like a kid.

oh, so adorable. lilia croons, swooning inside his head for a bit. how he'd like to simply hold you for hours end...

the romantic monolog of his daydreams though, is interrupted by you once more. ironic since you were the one he was just day dreaming about.

"oh, my. is that so? how lucky of me." he chooses to say instead.

silver sweatdrops. glancing between your hazy... anger maybe? it's not really anger in all honesty, just bordering. then to the lax demeanor his father exhibited. a glance would find normality in it, but he hasn't seen him pick on someone so...

he doesn't know the word for it, perhaps insisting on bothering a singular person as much as he can?

you gasp, snapping your head to silver. cause apparently you recognize him, but seemed scandalized by lilia's presence. "silver! protect me!"

amused, lilia watches you scurry back behind the boy.

"there's nothing to protect you from..."

"there's a man!"

"I'm a man too..."

"there's a bad man!"

your head peeks out from silver's confused frame, lilia's head follows the action. tilting to the side as you eye him hilariously warily. hmmm.. so very cute. "I'm an innocent, only wishing to steal my beloved." he replies, with a usual lightness. though the usual relaxation you had around him is replaced with irritation.

"you can't steal me away, my boyfriend and his children will strangle you."

lilia shares a look with silver. where did they get the idea of... such violence?

silver shrugs. not a clue, he seems to reply back, committed to just remaining a bystander even if he's technically in the middle.

"is that so?"

you nod vehemently, a more open vulnerability clear on your face than before. you point to lilia (well, technically you don't actually know its him! or maybe you're just playing with him?) squinting, accusing at all with him at the end of your pointer finger. the male only raises his brow, and flashes you a cheeky smile.

lilia contemplates playing with you. as in, replying 'why don't you guess?' because knowing you, even in this state you'd probably tell him: "how would I know?" then proceed to guess anyway.

you would have a cute expression, perhaps. but he isn't so cruel to the point where he would waste time—time you could be using to rest instead, preferably get sober, remember him when you wake up, and return to your lovey dovey self.

alright. maybe not lovey dovey on some days but he would definitely prefer that than you using his son as a shield against him, like the boy could actually hold him back.

well, it is technically his fault... but lilia had all the intentions to care for you if you ever got too drunk, he'd hold you up if you were too unsteady, guide you away from possible fiends, and make sure you recovered well the following morning.

but, this definitely didn't enter his area of expectations.

"yup!" you cry. "he might be short, but he can kick butt." for someone who's heard many arrogant words, he's never seen one who says one thing—a threat in your case, then you proceeded to cower behind the nonchalant silver.

you nudge silver.

silver blinks. "um... that's correct."

you glance back at lilia. as if to say I told you!

"so... he will kick my... butt?" lilia hums, indulging in using the world. goodness, good thing sebek is not here. that boy definitely would've kicked you out for endorsing such foul language.

he feigns a look of horror, to his amusement you seem to brighten.

simply adorable...

long story short. you seem to believe you've truly scared him off when he disappears.

concerned even more, silver watches you welcome lilia back with a dreamy sigh. like... you actually recognize him as your lilia, and not the guy you were just... threatening to bite the curb.

this is absurd... I should just rest... silver sighs.

lilia only beams at the showering affection.

[benegesseritofficial]

The effects of face paint on Harrowhark's psyche

I've now cosplayed Gideon Nav 3 times, with my wife along as Harrow every time. Naturally, this has included full face paint for both of us each time and I have some thoughts.

Let me start by asserting that everything Muir writes in TLT about the face paint is accurate. Rubbing off your lips first, smearing into gray where the black and white meet, the way sweat makes it ooze but not run. I can't say if Muir (a known Homestuck) ever cosplayed as a troll, but I'm positive she tested out the practicality of the skull face paint or otherwise has first hand experience with extensive use of grease paint. Also, the way she describes normal people flinching when they see you is spot on.

I've noticed while putting on the make up that once most of my skin is covered, any flesh tones sticking out start to become unsettling. Specifically, the red/pink of the inner mouth and around the eyes jump out upsettingly. Every time I've done skull paint I find myself meticulously trying to patch over these edges of skin, despite knowing that it's inside skin that Shouldn't Have Make Up On It. Once my face is monochrome, I don't want to be able to see a scrap of real human under there. Smiling, or otherwise opening your mouth wide enough to see the pink, looks UNSETTLING. My own skin causes the uncanny valley effect. You see where this is going. In NtN we learn Harrowhark disassociates often enough that Crux isn't surprised or concerned to see "Harrow" insisting she's someone else. Obviously this is due to her schizophrenia, and perhaps trauma besides. But it doesn't account for every aspect of why Harrow's "like that." On her most lucid days Harrow ignores her body to the point of sweating blood and passing out. She goes entire days without eating. She thinks of herself as a skeleton unfortunately covered in flesh. She sleeps in her paint.

All of which is heinous, but that last one has stuck with me. From age 13-18 I barely glanced down while I showered and whatever I saw I basically blocked out. I wore underwear and a bra under my pajamas to sleep every night. I was going through the wrong puberty, "my body was in open rebellion" as I liked to say at the time, and the only way to cope was to bind it down and pretend it wasn't happening. By Gideon's narration in HtN one gets the impression most nuns of the Ninth are putting their paint on after breakfast and taking it off when they get home. It's not even expected the average person wears it every time they leave the house. But Harrow regularly only takes her paint off in order to redo it. I suspect a combination of being the most brainwashed person in her own cult, knowing how she was conceived, and the regular disassociation make it very difficult for Harrow to conceptualize that she actually lives in a body. If she faced that fact head on she'd have to ask why it so often feels someone else is using her body. She'd have to cope with owning this body, being a part of this body, that was bought with the blood of 200 children who should have been her peers and friends. Instead she pretends it's an object on loan from them. And she does it with 10 layers of black petticoats and so much paint she never has to see her own skin.

Which brings me to the final thing I've noticed wearing full face paint. It dehumanizes you to yourself and everyone around you. I couldn't read my own expressions in a mirror. Even people who understood and were delighted with my cosplay were visibly nervous talking to me. You don't look like a person. Studies have shown that faces wearing heavy make up are ranked as harder to read and perceived as less empathetic. It's a particularly insidious trap of patriarchy that many women find self esteem in wearing make up, while that very act makes everyone around them treat them more callously. And, worst of all, if you stop wearing it once you're used to it, your naked face is shocking. You look sick due to your colors being less bold and the normal small flaws of your face appear unbearably ugly. With all this in mind, Harrow has trapped herself in a feedback loop of not being able to witness her own face and becoming more and more disgusted with the flesh and person underneath whenever she has to glance at it.

[kisses4reid]

missed it pt.2 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - penelope brings a belated cake for you that leaves everyone guilty. what better way to say sorry then a belated party as well?

genre - spencer x bau!fem!reader, barely angst, fluff, forgotten birthdays and sorry’s

warnings - mentions of forgotten birthdays, being sad, crying, umm cake??? y’all not rocking w cake??? y/n uses she/her pronouns

w/c - 1.2k+

a/n - thank you for the request anon! the idea is perfect and so r u for requesting it, i rock w you

request - I was wondering if you were up for a part 2 of missed it???, maybe where someone on the team suddenly remembered that it was readers birthday, and tells the rest of the team about it ( maybe in the elevator, when they’re all heading home & reader left early or smth ). And Spencer’s like yea I went to see them yesterday & they were pretty messed up about it, and they all start to feel really bad, so they come up with a plan to set up reader a berlated surprise b-day party at rossi’s or smth, and reader cries because she’s never felt so loved and appreciated before!!

Penelope scurried into the office with a leather red bag on her elbow and a large container that covered the lower part of her face. She peered over the plastic and scanned for the one person she was looking for, but instead she was met with a muscular man trying to suss out the tuperware that smelt amazingly sweet. "Hey babygirl," Morgan greeted with a smile, "You baked me a treat?"

Garcia walked further into the bullpen with Derek close behind her, "It's not for you, chocolate thunder. It's for Y/n." She replied matter-of-factly.

She placed her bag and the cake container on your empty desk and furrowed her eyebrows in the search for your presense which seemed to be absent.

JJ and Emily walked by with their cups of coffee in hand, joining Derek's confusion. Emily spoke up, "Why would Y/n need a cake?"

Spencer glanced then. He felt an unfamiliar rush of anger push him out of his chair. He bit the inside of his lip.

Last night, you had poured your heart out to him on the reasons you didn't tell others about your birthday, about much even. Would it be betrayal to expose you? Would it be kind? Spencer pondered as Penelope's mouth went agape in disgust.

She smacked each of the detectives on the arm, recieving groans and gasps from them all. "Are you kidding? It was Y/n's birthday yesterday. I was supposed to give her this yesterday but I was sick so..." Even a person like Penelope could read the subtle signs of regret on the profiler's faces. They screw their lips, glanced at each other - and Spencer - and didn't meet Garcia's eyes. Penelope sighed in anger and she started vocalising the very thoughts that were circling Spencer's mind.

"Are you guys serious? She worked 12 hours with each of you bozo's! And not one of you remembered? Not even a gift? Or a 'happy birthday Y/n'? You guys are unbelievable." She huffed and slapped her hand on the top of the cake container. "Where's Y/n?"

That's when the blonde turned to Spencer. "Uh- She went home early. She finished her paperwork pretty quickly." Emily, JJ, Morgan, and now Hotch - who had been wathcing from his office - all started packing up. Their cups of coffee were poured down the sink, and the sunshine was coming to a close. Spencer's hardened grip on his satchel was turning his knuckles white.

There they all were. Garcia's anger pouring out of her in determined and disciplining paragraphs about care and love and being a team, and Spencer's was pouring into his uneven breaths.

"I can't believe not one of you remembered. Not even Spencer! I mean-"

"I remembered."

The elevator went silent, the digital display counting down quickly. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his bag, avoiding eye contact with anyone at the memories of last night. Depressing, heart-breaking, beautiful. A lot of things happened last night. Some good, most bad.

"I went to her apartment last night with a cake. She was..." There was no lying to a team like this, "devastated."

JJ sighed, "We should do something."

Aaron nodded and brought out his phone, texting Rossi who also left early with you.

This week was full of tears and crying, snotty noses and new boxes of tissues. And today was no different. Though you promised yourself that yesterday was the last day you'd feel sorry for yourself, tears crept to your eyelashes even at the glass of the perfume Spencer had gifted you. It smelt amazing.

Your bed was a mess, your living room desolate and the kitchen long unused.

Today, you would get over it. You've gotten over it for years, why is this one any different? Is it because you thought you had found another family? Is it because Spencer proved people can care, but don't? Maybe it was because instead of wishing you happy birthday, you're father sent a photo of your sister's sports awards and asked why you didn't send her a congradulations text.

Today, you would get over it.

Today, I will get over it.

Your phone buzzed against your kitchen countertop as steam and the smell of onion and garlic filled your kitchen. You glanced, being met with a call from Derek, but being too slow to pick it up. And then suddenly there was a knock on your door.

You shut off the oven, wiped your hands on a cloth towel and tucked some loose hair behind your ears. Not only was this person interrupting a brand new recipe you had been reccomended, but also the reruns of your favourite sitcom. A sigh escaped you as you approached the door, preparing to explain that you were busy, but when you turned the doorknob you were met with deja vu.

Your team was beaming at you, all holding plates and bowls of various sweets and treats, as well as sandwiches and a large cake you assumed was decorated by Garcia.

"Happy Birthday Y/n!" They all screamed, not really in time but close enough to sound rehearsed. A smile slipped out from you as you laughed in shock. You felt your cheeks redden from the attention, feeling slightly uncomfortable and out of place, but you stepped aside to let them in anyways.

They hugged you, quietly and whole-heartedly apologised, and started setting up the surprise birthday lunch with Morgan's playlist filling the apartment. As Rossi passed he whispered, "Did you try that recipe I told you to try, the one I said at your belated dinner?"

Rossi was the only other person other than Penelope and Spencer to know your birthday. In fact, you two had the dinner planned for a week beforehand. You nodded with a smile and he joined the rest.

Spencer stood at the now closed door with a smile. He fiddled with the bottom of his sweater as he waited for you to turn to him, and when you did his hand latched onto yours discreetly. Your eye widdened slightly, gaze meeting his when he bent down slightly to whisper to you. "I wasn't sure if you would appreciate them showing up here but..." He smiled softly, "I think you deserve at least one good birthday."

Tears nearly brimmed your eyes before you heard your friends howl in laughter in the background, "Thank you, Spencer." A tear escaped you and he wrapped his arms around you. He was warm and his hold was tight with care, it made your heart stutter more than it already was. "Sorry," you giggled nervously and wiped your eyes. He gazed down at you and looked at you with confusion. "Why are you sorry?" "I'm crying at a party- A party for me." You said the last word like the scenario was a dream or seemingly impossible and it made Spencer's heart hurt. "That's okay, Y/n. As long as it's happy crying." He held your shoulders and rubbed his thumbs in comforting circles. "Yeah- Yes. I've just never felt this..."

You glanced at the crowd in your kitchen, full of people you loved and cared for. People you thought didn't care enough, but put an effort into a celebration that doubled as a massive and genuine apology for their mistakes. Nobody had ever said sorry to you for missing your birthday before.

"Loved?" Spencer's voice was soft as he finished your sentence. "Loved." You nod in agreeance, beaming at the tall boy so hard you felt like your heart was on display.

taglist (open!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[joonipertree]

Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.

Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????

But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."

Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.

If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"

You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.

God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.

Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.

IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA

I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.

Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.

If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.

You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.

I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?

If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.

Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."

People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.

Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.

You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'

But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.

You came close and kicked him on the shin.

I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.

The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.

If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.

With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.

The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.

It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.

Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.

Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.

And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.

"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.

"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"

Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."

The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.

"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."

The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.

"Only you can....treat me like that."

Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.

Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.

I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Someone requested some advice on whether to openly tell people you are mentally ill/neurodivergent/invisibly disabled or not.

There's some research that suggests that, for example, autistic people are more likely to identify as lgbt+ than their non-autistic peers - so this is absolutely a topic that belongs on a lgbt+ blog and I'm sure there are a lot of you who had to make that decision (and probably keep having to make it as coming-outs of any sort are rarely one-and-done!).

In fact, I had/have to make that decision myself! As an autistic person with depression and anxiety, I could tell you now why I personally decided to be open about all those diagnoses - but the right decision for me isn't necessarily the right decision for you as my life isn't yours.

So, what I'll do instead is to write down a general list with (potential) pros and cons, and I encourage you to nitpick it. Personalize it, take some time to decide how much, if at all, each point weighs in your own decision. There's no right or wrong answer here. It's all about your highly individual situation, about your safety and comfort.

Reasons not to be open about it:

It may put you at risk for various sorts of hate, discrimination, negative stigma and bad treatment

It may put a burden on you to educate others and discuss any misconceptions or myths they believe in, including potentially hurtful or disstressing ones (maybe even fruitlessly so which may cause frustrations or fights)

It may change the way people treat you, even in well-meant ways (babying you, pitying you, trying to "help" against your wishes etc.)

It may feel like a loss of privacy, make you feel "naked" or emotionally vulnerable, make you worry more about the way others perceive you etc.

Reasons to be open about it:

It may help others understand you or your behavior better, which may have positive effects on your relationships

It may allow you to ask for support and help more easily (either from friends and loved ones or in the workplace, school etc.)

It may make you feel empowered and help you accept/love yourself as a disabled person more

It may contribute to making your specific diagnosis more visible in society (which may also make you feel pride in breaking down stereotypes and supporting your community)

It may discourage people from assigning wrong or hurtful labels to you (either armchair-diagnosing you or labeling you as weird, crazy, lazy, gross etc.)

It's important to keep in mind that some people do not have the option to make this decision for themselves, for example because they have highly visible symptoms or they are in a position where their caretakers make the decision for them. This adds another layer to why we can't judge one decision as better or worse than the other - it's not always their own decision.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

[tibopansy]

i still can't stop thinking about non-it/its users responses to this post. how an awful lot of people think it's fine to refuse someone else's pronouns because of their own discomfort.

let me tell you a story.

i have been dehumanized almost my entire life. a combination of my race, disabilities, and the mental illnesses that i developed very early in my life meant i was treated like a monster. i started coming out as gay too early for my peers' comfort and that only added to that treatment. my dehumanization is enshrined in christianity. i took on the label of monster on purpose because i stopped relating to humanity. why should i want to be a part of a group who did nothing but hurt me and exclude me in the first place?

i don't need to be protected from my own goddamn pronouns. i don't need to hear about the historical dehumanization of queer people and people of color and disabled people because, like a massive majority of the people using it/its, i fucking know. i have for literal decades.

you know what hurts? telling me i don't know what's best for myself, that your discomfort with my life is more important than treating me like someone who can make its own fucking decisions, and misgendering me because you can't handle being reminded of the things that literally continue to happen to me. i'm not a poor unthinking baby that needs to be saved, and neither are the other it/its users.

if you have feelings about it/its, you can process them on your own time, like every other person uncomfortable with a pronoun set.

and for the love of everything unholy just call me by my fucking pronouns.

[luveline]

hiii jade! can you write something for spencer x badass!reader who despite being sick af, still shows up to work? ur writing always makes my day!! :)

hi, tysm for requesting my love ♡ fem

"What's up with you?" Morgan asks. 

You don't have the energy to tell him to mind his business. "Nothing, I'm fine. What's up with you?" 

"Sorry, are you asking me how I am?" 

Morgan seems to think that you don't like him. It makes sense, in a way, because you've never been outwardly affectionate to him or even friendly, and he's constantly teasing you. But the reason you didn't like him or anyone on the team when you first joined beyond civil professionalism was because of how they treated Spencer. 

You're older now, you've learned that they love him. But they don't appreciate him as much as they should, and so you resolve to appreciate them at a similar level. Spencer gets every ounce of love you have to give, and Morgan gets a smidge when he deserves it. 

"Earth to Y/N. You sick?" Morgan asks. 

You rub the space between your brows. "Sick of stupid questions, sure." 

"Feisty. Where's Reid? Need me to give him a talk about being a better boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend." 

"He's your something." Morgan's grin softens into a more serious expression, and for a few seconds, he takes you in. You hate being looked at with concern, standing as he asks, "Seriously, are you okay?" 

"I'm okay, Morgan, thank you." 

You speed walk away from the desk to the kitchenette on unsteady footing, where Spencer stands like the light at the end of a dark tunnel making a cup of tea. He bobs the tea bag up and down slowly, his eyebrows pinched together, as though this cup of tea is the most important thing in the world to get right. Your chest aches as you move, your breath noticeably shallow. Spencer must hear you, lifting his arm to gesture for you to come closer. 

"Hey," he says. He usually speaks to you softly but this is a new level of gentleness. It goes without saying that if he were anybody else, his tone would drive you up the wall with annoyance, but he's Spencer. It must be the sugary brown of his eyes and the puppy dog essence to his smile, eager to please, that makes his concern a welcome one. "You okay? Come here." 

You stand obediently at his side. 

"You okay?" he asks again. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why does everybody keep asking me that?" you mumble, eyeing his cup of tea longingly. Your throat is sandpaper. 

Spencer slides it toward you without comment. "Because you look sick. Not that you look bad, you don't, you always look nice, but your eyes are glassy, and you look a little clammy." He turns sideways. "You want your tea?" 

"It's for me?" 

"Yeah, it's for you. I put honey in it. I don't know if you like honey…" 

You take the mug and drink it. Honey or not, you're gonna drink every sip, and not just because your throat is deteriorating rapidly. Spencer could make you a cup of hot dish water and you'd pinch your nose to knock it back. 

"Thank you," you say in relief. 

"Sure. Wanna go sit down?" 

"I don't need to sit down." 

"I'm not saying you do. I just," —Spencer laughs, his hand on your shoulder— "I need you to peer assess my last witness account file. You do it quicker than Morgan does." 

"Oh, okay. Yeah, let's go do it." 

Spencer shepherds you to his desk. Morgan peers not so subtly over the partition as you sit in Spencer's chair and roll into the front of his desk, reaching for a pen from his pen pot. You drink blind sips of tea between lines, reading over his file slowly. Your eyes grow heavier as the tea warms your chest, and Spencer's hand falls to your shoulder again. 

"You should go home," he says quietly. He tricked you into sitting down, that's obvious now. 

"I'm okay." 

"You need to rest when you're sick or you'll only get worse," he says, his breath fanning against the short hairs by your ear. 

You close your eyes at the sensation. "I can't go home."

"Why not?" 

"Because I…" You list off. You're sure there was something to say, something important, but Spencer's presence stands behind you and your body must realise that if you want safety to pass out, this will be the place. 

"Y/N," he says sympathetically. 

"Can't drive," you mumble. 

"I'll get you home, don't worry. You just sit here for a second while I sort it out, okay? Don't get up." He rubs down your arm roughly. For once, you get a sense of total confidence from him. You trust that he's gonna get you home in one piece. "Morgan, can you watch her?" 

"'M not a kid," you say. 

"Course not. I'm still gonna look after you, though," Spencer says. 

He takes you home in a borrowed work SUV. You're not sick enough to need carrying, but the moment he sits you down on the couch you fall into a deep, sweaty sleep. When you wake a little later, it's to three extremely important things; the first, a bowl of chicken soup with fresh made croutons; the second, Spencer, his top button undone and smiling as he squeezes your lax hand; and third, your saviour, a jumbo box of Tylenol, sleep aid and decongestants included. You remind yourself to kiss Spencer's cheek when you aren't totally dying. 

[softonshanks]

Starlight and Sailor's Delight

Characters: Luffy x female reader

Total word count: 1129 words

Plot: Luffy and the reader spend a nice night during a festival and Luffy has to face his feelings for Y/N, realising that becoming king of the pirates isn't the only thing he cares about.

Author's note: I'm working on all the request you sent me and I am so so so thrilled because I am having such a fun time writing all this stuff. Unfortunatly today I had a very long work day, so I haven't been able to ultimate your prompts. Thus, I have decided to post a one shot about Luffy I had previously wrote, let me know if you like it (: English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes.

The sun was setting on a warm, tranquil afternoon when Luffy and his crew docked at a remote island known for its serenity and breathtaking views. The Straw Hats had stumbled upon this hidden gem purely by chance—its isolation was both a mystery and an invitation for adventure. The island's sole settlement was a quaint village with narrow streets and cozy cottages, known for its simple beauty and tight-knit community.

Luffy and Y/N walked through the village, taking in the scenery, while the rest of the crew preferred to rest on the ship and join them later. Y/N was enthralled by the vibrant flowers lining the streets and the gentle hum of the nearby brook. Luffy, with his boundless energy, bounced from one spot to another, his excitement contagious. He couldn’t help but notice how Y/N’s eyes sparkled with every new sight, though he wasn’t quite sure why it made him feel so… happy.

“This place is so cool!” Luffy exclaimed, his straw hat tilting as he leaned in close to a flower.

“I can't wait to see it at night,” Y/N said, her voice filled with excitement. “I have always read about this festival where the whole village lights up with lanterns, and the stars look like they’re dancing in the sky.”

“Whoa, that sounds awesome!” Luffy said, his eyes wide with anticipation. “We’ve gotta check it out!”

As they strolled, a local woman approached them, her face beaming with warmth. “Ah, visitors! We’ve been expecting you. Tonight, we’re having our annual stargazing festival. Would you like to join us?”

“Festival? That’s the one you were talking about Y/N!” Luffy shouted, his enthusiasm drawing the attention of nearby villagers. “We’re in!” The woman laughed and led them to the village square, where preparations for the festival were underway. Lanterns were being hung, and a large telescope stood prominently in the center, surrounded by tables of food and drink.

As dusk fell, the village came alive with festivities. Villagers and visitors alike gathered, chatting and laughing as the first stars began to appear. Luffy and Y/N mingled with the crowd, soaking in the lively atmosphere. Luffy’s heart felt lighter than usual, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Being around Y/N just seemed… nice. Y/N was drawn to the telescope, where a young man with glasses was eagerly explaining the constellations to a group of fascinated children. Luffy, however, was more interested in the food table, his eyes widening at the sight of the variety of local treats.

Y/N later joined him, holding a small plate of what looked like sweet pastries. “You’ve got to try these, Luffy. They’re amazing!”. Luffy grabbed a pastry with childlike glee and took a big bite. His eyes lit up. “This is awesome! We should take some back to the ship, so Sanji can taste it and cook it for us again once we leave,” said with his mouth full of food.

They spent the evening sampling food, enjoying the music, and laughing with the locals. As the sky darkened and the stars became more prominent, the atmosphere grew more magical. Villagers gathered around the telescope, and Luffy, never one to miss out on fun, decided to take a turn. Y/N watched with a soft smile as Luffy peered through the telescope, his face scrunched up in concentration. “See anything interesting, Captain?”

“Whoa, I think I see a giant meatball!” Luffy exclaimed, pulling back with a wide grin. “Oh, wait… nope, just a star. But it kinda looks like one!”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “Only you, Luffy.”

“Hey, I’ve got a pretty good imagination,” Luffy said, puffing out his chest with pride. “And a great appetite!”

Y/N giggled, her heart fluttering at his carefree attitude. There was something so endearing about Luffy—something that made her feel warm and safe, even amidst his wild antics.

As the night wore on, the focus shifted to dancing. The villagers formed a circle, and soon, Luffy and Y/N found themselves caught up in the rhythm. The music was lively, and the dance was infectious. Luffy’s movements were wild and uncoordinated, but filled with pure joy. At one point, Luffy noticed Y/N standing off to the side, watching the others with a thoughtful expression. He bounded over to her, grabbing her hand with his usual enthusiasm. “Come on, Y/N! You can’t just stand there. Let’s dance!”

“I’m having fun just watching,” Y/N replied with a soft smile. “But thanks, Luffy.”

Luffy tilted his head, his eyes full of curiosity. “You sure? You look like you’re thinking too much.”

Y/N’s smile widened, but there was a hint of something deeper in her eyes. “Just thinking about how much I’ve enjoyed today. And how glad I am that I met you”. Luffy’s grin softened into something more sincere, though he wasn’t entirely sure why her words made his heart skip a beat.

“I’m glad too, Y/N. It’s been awesome having you around”. Y/N’s heart warmed at his words, and for a moment, they stood there, the sounds of the festival fading into the background. The stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, casting a gentle glow over the village. She hesitated for a second, then leaned in and rested her head on Luffy’s shoulder. His face flushed slightly, a rare sight for the usually carefree pirate.

“That is nice!” he said, stopping for a moment and just enjoying the view of villager’s dancing, while he and Y/N were in peace. "This is really nice," repeated, as he rested his head on Y/N's one. While the dance continued, something shifted in the air between them. Luffy found himself drawn to Y/N in a way he didn’t quite understand. Her laugh, her smile, the way she seemed to glow under the lantern light—it all made him feel… different. A warm, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest, but he shrugged it off. He was Luffy, after all. The only thing he wanted was to be kings of the pirates, maybe some meat most of the time. He didn’t have time for complicated stuff like feelings… right?

“Luffy,” Y/N’s voice broke the crystallized moment they were in. “Thank you for tonight.”

Luffy’s eyes lit up at her words, though he wasn’t quite sure why they made him feel so warm inside. “I’m glad you’re having fun, Y/N. This is awesome!”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his simple sincerity. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling. But before she could speak, Luffy, with his usual impulsiveness, did something that caught even him by surprise. He leaned down, closing the distance between them, and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a gentle, tentative kiss, filled with all the innocence and curiosity that defined Luffy. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, everything else faded away—the music, the laughter, the festival—leaving only the two of them, connected in the quiet of the night.

[withonly-sweetheart]

thinkin abt di leon when you're not feeling too great about yourself. nsfw mentions ahead, a lil longer than expected but i had a lot of thoughts ok...

<><><><>

of course it was just on a whim when he recommended that you join the force. he hadn't expected you to take the offer to heart; the whole thing was just a thin ruse to see you in the uniform.

so when he sees the other car slotted into place right next to his, the one that had been parked safely in the garage when he'd left early to get some paperwork done, he's confused. at first he assumes you've come to visit him, get a scope of how things at the station work.

but it's never that simple with you, is it? he doesn't think too hard about it and turns back to his colleagues, listening to one of them outline their devious plan to screw up some poor rookie on their first day. they rub their hands and it's all leon can do not to roll his eyes.

he's all for treating people with respect, but that flies out of the window when he's not only chosen to be a training officer, something he'd not expected for the next few years. and the sergeant waits.

for what? he doesn't know under there's snickering coming from behind him, so without uncrossing his arms and molding his face into a stern expression, he tosses a cursory glance over his shoulder.

immediately, he has to double-take, eyes wide as he scans you, covered nearly head to toe in some greasy residue he doesn't recognize.

"and there," sergeant mutters, "is kennedy's new boot. dismissed."

your husband doesn't miss the longing in your eyes as you hand over the shiny badge pinned under your name while you explain what had happened.

"and who told you that the captain's room was in the parking lots?" he deadpans, thumbs tucked into the belt of his uniform as he leans against the wall, waiting for you to appear out of the bathroom.

"ugh, i don't even know! it was some guy, but i can't remember his face... blond hair... nice face."

"sounds like you're describing me, sweetheart," he teases when you finally leave the room, dressed in a new uniform. "now, we're running thirty minutes late. all the other officers have already left."

you stare up at him, as if you expect him to elaborate. he clicks his tongue, somewhere in his throat, and leans forward, just for you to hear his words.

"look, i'm not gonna play nice just because we're married. i take my job seriously, and i don't want to hear that you've gotten any pretty privileges, hm?"

your eyes never once waver. "yes sir."

he's patient enough, you think, somewhat like the man you've been waking up to for three straight years, and he teaches you how to set up shop quickly. you're cruising down the street in no time.

in the back of his mind, he's thinking about whether or not he'd be this harsh with any other boot. the last thing he needs is for his peers to think he's going soft, just because he knows his rookie.

but he's happy. he's doing the job he loves the most, with the person he loves more than anything in the entire world. but with that love comes unforeseen danger.

danger that makes itself apparent at your first shootout. you call in shots fired quickly, just like you've been taught, and he thinks you can hold your ground. you're a grown woman, you can handle this.

boy, was he wrong. the moment you get close enough to actually see the gunfight, you tense. freeze up, and even his touch isn't enough to get you to melt, to snap you out of it.

he has to drag you from the scene as soon as backup arrives, and only when he can truly assure you that the suspects have been apprehended do you relax. you're shivering, shaking all over, trauma flashing in your eyes.

he takes you back home, somewhere you know you're safe. and he wants answers. serious ones. because truthfully?

he doesn't know why you're acting like this. he remembers his academy days, where they trained with real guns, the real thing. so why had you stopped for that moment in time, suspended against your own will.

you finally tell him how your father died. how the community you lived in was never safe, especially for a little girl. how your father always kept you attached to his hip, how much you hated it.

the grief you felt when he died, blood staining your little fingers, how you had tried to keep him alive, but the bullet had pushed its way to his heart in his struggles to shield you from danger. even while dying, his thoughts were with you.

and you've come to appreciate it, of course you have. without your father, you wouldn't be here. but whenever you hear the sounds of those guns, the real deal, not in the sterile and controlled, predictable environment of the academy, it's inevitable.

you know that. and leon does too, now. so he asks you why you even bothered when you knew he just meant it as a joke, why you couldn't have just pursued a safer career in finance, with people to watch over you. with only him to watch over you.

"i'm sick of being treated like a child! you showed me that i can hold my own, that i can be my own person! that i don't need protection! so... s-so i thought that i could do this!"

not an ounce of belief in those eyes. not even a bit.

"but you're scared of guns," he says softly, and it only serves to irritate you even more. "the force... it's really not something you can be unsure about. you have to give it your all... even if you can't."

you recoil from his touch. "what's that supposed to mean?"

he heaves a sigh. "maybe... you should resign? while you're still in on your probational internship, or whatever the right word is. it's better to do it before you reach a year of work-"

"you... think i can't do it?" your eyes glaze with tears. "you think i can't handle myself? now you don't even trust me?"

"sweetie, no-" he reaches for you, but you jerk away.

"jesus, i did all this just to prove to you that i can handle myself! all this just to keep myself to your standards, to prove to myself i still fucking deserve you!"

he has to stagger back for a moment, watch you closely, processing what you've just slammed into his face.

"me? you joined the force for me?"

you look away, bashful. "uh... yes?"

"goddamn it." not the response you were expecting. "when have i ever told you that you haven't, since the moment we met, met my standards?"

"it's not that hard to see." you scoff.

"oh, sorry, am i missing something?" he raises an eyebrow. "because i can't recall a single time when i've ever told you anything less than what you are."

"but look at you!" you sputter. "you-you're you! you do all this good for the city, fucking looking like a model when you do it, and me? the useless wife! all she does is wait for her perfect husband to come home!"

leon's anxious now. in three years of being married, even longer since he's known you, there hasn't been a single moment when he's doubted your abilities, and where you've ever shouted at him for doing so. he's only looking out for you, he had hoped you'd see that through his words.

"look, i'm sorry, okay?" he runs a hand through his already tousled hair, and you watch his fingers tremble. "i-i messed up, alright? more times than i can count, but i can't stand here and watch you put yourself in danger just to impress me."

"because it'll never work."

"god, no." he snakes a hand around your arm, and this time, you let him. you don't pull away. "because you're never done anything but."

"me?" you scoff, again. the sound becomes something to play on repeat, scorning yourself. "impress you, yeah right."

"how can i show you?" he asks, suddenly. you blink up at him.

"what?"

"tell me how i can show you how much you mean to me," he repeats, this time, more insistent, peppering the side of your face with soft, cautious kisses. "show you that if anything, i'm the one that doesn't deserve you."

you hear yourself make a sound, half in protest, half in compliance, already melting under him. anything to get out of this conversation. but he doesn't relent so easily.

"i need you to use your words, baby. tell me what'll make you feel good. better about yourself," he mumbles into the crook of your neck.

"show me how much you love me," you whisper into the shell of his ear. you feel him grin broadly against your skin, nipping the area with his teeth, showing restraint.

but as soon as you press back into him, luckily enough, he doesn't wait. he's good at apologizing, you think hazily, when your clothes are scattered across the room and you've ended up tangled together on the couch, lounging on his shoulder.

it still doesn't sit right with you, even when he cups your face and fixes you with a look of genuine concern.

"still don't believe me?" he whispers, fingers trailing downwards for what feels like the fiftieth time that night.

"no," you muse, then lower your voice to a whisper. "i really thought you were lowering your standards."

leon presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, tugging you close. and he uses his words.

"baby, you are my standards."

series masterlist

[writingwisterias]

Blood in the Snow

DI!Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Blood, gunshots, gunshot wound, near death, storms, angst, Platonic or Romantic relationship

Summary: You should be bitter towards him, he was always bitter to you. but what happens when a mission goes wrong leaving you to care for Leon as a rookie of the DSO, (Set between Vendetta and Death Island but leans closer to Death Island)

Your footprints crunched in the snow as you made your way through the forest, the cold biting through the thermals that covered your skin. The forest was covered in a white mist, one that seemed to darken as the hours passed, evidence of an incoming storm. Your head is wrapped snugly in a grey beanie and a scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck protecting your cheeks from the frozen wind. A stupid item, Leon had grumbled about questioning if it was actually practical when you might have to run throughout the forest. Leon was a few feet ahead of you seemingly unbothered by the weather; you couldn't remember whenever he had put thermals on this morning before you both headed out into the cold. Your cold hands itched to take in some of his warmth whenever it was to slide them up under his jacket or hold his hands, instead, you resulted in blowing your hot breath over your frosted fingers. "Why can't evil scientists make their labs in normal locations for once?" You grumbled from beside him as you finally caught up with him. Leon scoffed his eyes glancing briefly in your direction - the fact that he even acknowledged your joke was a huge step in the development of your relationship.

The DSO had a bunch of new recruits, and their papers were ranked in order of their probability of success and skill. You had the luck of being paired with Leon Kennedy after having similar reports after the Boot camp. Normally anyone would have literally creamed over getting him to be your trainer but not you. His gaze was less than welcoming and his guidance normally resulted in bossy remarks and groans when you would accidentally mess something up. It always felt like 1 step forward and 2 steps back with him.

His anger and hatred against the world and his job made you grow curious, often wondering what had happened to him and why he was so admired but you knew better than to question where he had gained fame around the building. Leon wasn't blind he saw how the recruits had treated you since you were paired together. They snarl and whisper in jealousy as you both walk through the corridors. He pitted you, how out of all the other capable agents they paired you with him, the bitter and sour one. Maybe they thought your enthusiasm for the job would bring him back; make him happy to serve and protect again as if everything he went through didn't matter. He appreciated you never seemed to be bothered by his bitterness, often ignoring the side remarks with an eye roll or a grumble under your breath. He admired how quick and nimble you were, easily avoiding targets and completing the jobs quietly when needed and it was easy to see how you were top of the new recruits.

You cursed as you sank in the snow, your trousers now damp and cold, biting at what little warmth you had left in your body. "Don't you think it's suspicious how quiet it is?" you spoke as your eyes danced around the treeline, your device blinking your location as you approached closer to the target point. "It is," Leon responded bluntly, his eyes scanning the treelines as well. His hand outstretched in front of you holding you back from continuing before he slowly raised a finger to his lips signalling your silence. Your eyes peered into the icy darkness attempting to see what Leon had become concerned about, a storm was rapidly falling over the landscape now the mist was now nearly opaque.

The first gunshot made you jump, the sound bouncing around the treeline after it missed you; the both of you instantly went back to back creating a small circle in the snow as you spun around slowly. An eerie silence fell upon the woods. "I don't like this," Leon muttered as he came to a stop. His back was tense, the muscles tight you could feel it against your own. Your arms ached from holding the gun so tightly, and your eyes became sore from peering into the white snow. The second shot caused you both to run, and the action was made with great difficulty due to the deep snow, using the trenches you had created after wading through the deep snow. The mission was now abandoned, Leon shouting for backup behind you, his voice barely audible with the harsh winds that now whipped at you. The two of you knew that the back wouldn't be able to get to you tonight, the storm making it too difficult for the heli to land meaning you had to make it to the safe house cabin hoping the incoming storm provided you both with enough cover to get there.

The final shot was followed with a painful grunt as it finally hit the target, the snow next to you became spattered with red as Leon leant over, his hand gripping his side. "Leon?!" You whisper shouted moving yourself in front of him and pushing him behind you as you checked your backs for any incoming shadows. Your cold hands began prying at his jacket to take a look at the wound. His blood warmed your frozen fingertips, dripping onto the snow below you melting it.

"Get to the safe house" He grunted, his body shaking slightly. Your head snapped up at the sound of footsteps closing in. The two of you were like a doe in the meadow as the hunter's dogs slowly crept into the wounded animal - preparing for the kill. "I'm not leaving you" You replied, your bloodied hands now pulling away to take off the woven scarf and wrap it around his side. "Not so much of a useless item now is it" you joked as you secured it, tucking the loose ends in as you made sure the fabric was giving the wound enough pleasure to limit the blood flow. Leon grumbled under his breath as he felt the warm fabric heat his cold skin. "Remind me to get you a new one rookie" he joked, his eyes finally looking into yours.

He was shocked, he had expected to see your innocence in them, the excitement he always hated that laced throughout your body. But in this moment it was like he was looking into his younger self. You looked like if he were to die right here it would drastically change your outlook on life - just like Ada's disappearance did all those years ago, when her small hand slipped from his. He watched the determination creep into your features as you supported his weight, pulling him into your warmth as you trudged through the snow. In this moment he finally saw his life meant something to someone else, enough for them to put in this effort to get him to safety, so it would be enough for him to suck in a harsh breath and face the onslaught of cold wind that whipped at the two of you. His hands shook as they finally gripped at your waist allowing you to take more of his strength. He ignored the hand gripping at the wound where it was already becoming cracked and frozen from his blood.

The cabin door smacked against the walls as you pushed it open, Leon collapsing on the ground with a loud groan as he struggled to push himself up. "stop you idiot, that's how you hurt yourself more" you said as you fought against the wind to shut the door. You collapsed against it with a huff, taking a moment to regain your breath. "This doesn't feel great" Leon whimpered as he laid back on the floor, his skin was pale and clammy, his body now trying to fight away a growing fever and the blood loss. "you were shot Leon, that doesn't normally feel good" You replied bluntly as you knelt beside him, your cold fingers providing both relief and discomfort as you pried away the bloodied scarf. He tried to fight it for you, the growing exhaustion that began to take over him. But just like most things he thought he did, he failed as the injury succumbed him to sleep.

He awoke hours later to being warm, blankets thrown across him, the fire close enough to lick at his skin if he moved slightly. Leaning up against the brick of the fireplace his eyes landed on you. Your hair was ruffled and out of place, and your sleeve was splattered with blood as you stared into the dancing flames. Leon's eyes fell onto the medical supplies littered around the floor the sterile packaging pilling up in the corner. When he looked back at you again he was shocked to find you staring back. His heart beat faster as he watched a single tear leak from your eye. You looked so small like this, your hands wrapped around your knees holding everything in as if you were to move everything would come out. "You almost died asshole" You spoke, your voice cracking as the words came out. "You almost died and I-I didn't know what to do...fucking prick"

He deserved the words you spat at him, the insults and anger you had clearly built up over the past few months from being assigned to him. But he didn't deserve the care in them, the concern and tears that spilt from your eyes as you looked at him. "I-I'm sorry" he croaked out, his voice rough from the hours he had spent asleep on the hardwood floor. "The bullet didn't go clean through, I had to dig the fragments out. I had to sew you up and my hand wouldn't keep fucking still." You cried, burying your head in the crack of your knees.

Leon stared at you, all the words that formed in his head were lodged in his throat. His eyes filled with his own tears as he looked at your scared form, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire. His grunt caused your head to shoot up and your lips parted to protest his movements but were cut off when his arms wrapped around your frame. Leon's head fell on your shoulder as he pulled you close - holding you. "I'm sorry...for everything, you didn't deserve my burden on the world" He croaked out, his eyes watching your face intently as you took in his words. "You didn't deserve it either Leon"

His body flinched at your words, his arms tightening around you slightly as he took them in. He felt 21 again, desperate for touch and affection after running from a nightmare. Forced to serve an order he didn't believe in for the safety of a girl that ended up doing the thing he wanted to prevent her from doing. He protected everyone he loved constantly but who protected him? Who pushed him behind them instead? You did.

He felt you tighten your hold on him, the warmth of the fire crackling louder as if it were fueled by the moment. "Thank you" he whispered as he pulled away, grunting as he adjusted himself to sit next to you. You leaned into his shoulder, not willing to pull too far away from him just yet. "you owe me a new scarf"

Leon chuckled, his lips pressing against the crown of your head affectionately. His actions mimicked what he wanted someone to do after all the horrors he had faced. His shoulder provided a ground for you to finally rest, exhaustion creeping in. He admired you, more than he secretly already did. The way you didn't give up, helped him and healed him when it was easier to leave him to bleed out on the snow. He lifted his shirt to see the shaky attempt at stitching, the raised skin would leave a scar, but this is one he would look at with love. One that would remind him to keep going just a little bit longer, that there was more than all fighting. The final confirmation he needed to move forward.

[fuctacles]

<<4 | 5 | 6>>

Eddie held back and was nice enough to give him an ice pack after. 

"Thank you," Steve murmurs, placing the frozen peas on his chin. He's not taking his eyes off Eddie, who's wired up and walking back and forth in the tiny kitchen. Steve is low-key expecting another hit. If he had his tail, it would be tucked between his legs. 

"Why?" Eddie finally asks, the first thing he says since the punch. But before he can get an answer, he follows with: "Does everyone else know?"

"Yes," Steve admits guiltily. "I didn't want to drop it on you right after the Upside Down, but the longer it took, the weirder it got, and I just..." he trails off with half a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs, sending him a glare while his strides pick up speed. It would look ridiculous, since it takes only three of his steps to walk through the kitchen, if it wasn't so serious. 

"You made it weirder alright. Why did you follow me around instead of hanging out like a normal human being?!" He throws his arms wildly around, almost hitting the fridge. "Or did you just want to keep tabs on me? Like a weird little dog-stalker?!"

"No!" Steve protests indignantly, but then falters. "Well, I— Kind of? But just to, you know, protect you."

Eddie finally stops. Which is not a good sign as far as Steve is concerned, but Eddie just stares at him. 

He recounts the run-ins they had with the local righteous mob. He reimagines them with Steve by his side instead, the human one, and there's no universe in which it doesn't end up with an escalation. People don't normally pick up fights with dogs, apparently. But...

"Was sleeping on my couch and eating my hot dogs also to protect me?"

Steve folds in on himself and Eddie can almost imagine his sad dog ears flopping down. 

"No, I just—"

Eddie's suddenly in his line of vision, squatting in front of him to peer into his face mockingly.

"Was it just for fun? Little doggy wanted belly rubs and treats? Make everyone look at me weird because I'm scratching Steve Harrington between his ears?" he scoffs. "And dude, I would do all of it, if I knew it was you. You were worried it would be too much for me after Vecna? I'm a nerd! I eat that shit up. Do you know how much better I'd feel knowing werewolves are real?!"

Steve is not even surprised at his outburst. He just shuffles his legs and corrects softly:

"Lykans."

Eddie jumps up, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh, now you're gonna tell me?! You lost your naming privileges, man, you're a werewolf, period."

He leans against the cupboards behind him, foot tapping restlessly. But he was angry at so many things at once, that he didn't know what to grasp first.

"Why did you avoid me?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Eddie interrupts him. "I never saw you around, only the dog. And then you started avoiding everyone else too. Why?"

Steve sighs, slipping the half-thawed pack of peas away from his face. His body slumps like any traces of fight have just left him.

"I guess it was easier. I could just walk around, keep an eye on everyone, and not... explain myself."

"Can't lie without vocal chords, huh?"

Steve sends him a tired look, and Eddie feels the tiniest of bits bad. He raises his hands placatingly. 

"I'm not your therapist. But I thought I was your friend."

"You are! Just..."

"Just not good enough to share the truth with?" Eddie offers.

Steve groans, this time unfolding to fall against the chair's backrest. 

"See, this is why I prefer shifting. I don't have to explain my thoughts to others, nothing is weird and unspoken, and everyone fucking loves me. They pet me and tell me nice things. But when I'm a human, I'm getting laughed at, dumped, used for rides, and have to stay alone in a big empty house."

Eddie just blinks at him, his anger slowly shifting into concern. 

"That's uh, a lot to unpack there," he says gently, pursing his lips in thought. "You know we've been worried about you, right? That we don't see you anymore. I mean, I didn't know at the time, but the kids knew something was going on with you."

Steve scoffs.

"Yeah, they noticed when they had to go beg Nancy for rides."

"Dude." Eddie frowns at him, both irritated and concerned. "I am so tempted to get your other cheek right now. Didn't Dustin call you to clear the air between us?"

"Yes, because you called him first," Steve reminds him. 

"Still, he could have left it for us to deal with on our own. But he cares, so he reached out. " Eddie sighs. "He wants us to be friends, but most of all, he wants you to open up; not to me, but to the rest of the party. So why are you holing yourself up, man? What's wrong?"

Steve doesn't move from his semi-open position, but he crosses his arms, and he's looking away at Wayne's cap collection, visible through the open space to his right. 

Eddie just looks at him, the worry in his stomach growing like a parasite. He decides that maybe this is enough for today. Enough feelings, talking, and confessions. That it is time to clear the air.

And by 'clear' he means 'cloud it with smoke'.

"Let's put a pin on that," he says and finally, Steve looks back at him, both worried and curious. "I think we both need to chill out and I still have that weed stored away for you. And a really bad horror from Gareth. The blood looks like ketchup, you're gonna love it."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[just-null]

Kokichi, similar to Noritoshi in the sense that they're analytical and kinda tsun, but that's mostly it. This is another Megumi and Noritoshi situation where, on the surface, they appear to be very similar, but you squint and realize they're extremely different.

Whereas Noritoshi isn't as bold because he still holds remnants of pride, Kokichi is just shy about it since it's so new. He won't back down from it, just hesitate.

[Long ass rambles under the cut! + bonus doodles.]

When referring to shyness, Kokichi leans into the awkward and stiff type. There's always confusion and slight fear in his eyes when he's experiencing something new or romantic. He doesn't want to mess up, but if he does, he just hopes it works in his favor.

Being born in a body where he was under constant pain and stress, someone touching him was the last thing he wanted. He'd never known the loving touch of another because the heavens decided he wasn't allowed to.

After meeting you, that yearning to be next to you became too much. To hell with his restrictions. He'd to do whatever it takes to be able to be with you even if he had to sacrifice others to do it.

In retrospect, he feels like he should've done it sooner. Being touched or even grazed doesn't feel like his skin is falling off anymore.. Plus having both arms and working legs is always a good thing. It's new and odd, but not terrible. His mind never once wandered back and regretted those he's thrown under the bus because why would it?

Unfortunately, when his body was being healed, Mahito made him healthy.. and that's all. Knowing Mahito, he'd leave Kokichi to struggle with catching up to the rest of his peers by working for his own stamina, weight, and strength from square one. Though Kokichi isn't complaining much about it. He'd still take this rather than being stuck in that god forsaken tub for a second longer.

He used to hate being fussed over because of his illness. He prefers to do things on his own and now he can. Yet, Kokichi still gets pitiful looks on other's faces when he's too weak to carry something. It makes him want to spit at them, he can use Mechamaru to do his heavy lifting for now. He doesn't need a beefed up body to do it.

Unless you're the "beefed up" one fussing over him.. He doesn't mind it when it's you. In fact, Kokichi feels grateful when it's you, endeared even. He never feels belittled or pitiful when its you.. Only you.

Judging by how he treated panda for having the ability to interact with others in person despite being a cursed corpse, Kokichi has a number of insults and creative verbal abuse he's ready to spew out once someone tries getting a little too close to you. Scratch that, he's rude in general to those he isn't familiar with.

Kokichi has a lot of anger for those he deems ungrateful. What do you expect from someone who thought he was gonna rot in a bathtub for the rest of his life to do? Not harbor resentment? Luckily, he holds just as much, if not more, love for you who he's unbelievably grateful for!

Your affection is so odd to him, a new experience that he never knew he could grow to yearn for. It's not terrible, quite the opposite. It's so wonderful he can't get enough. Every time you're around, he wants to have at least one hand on you at all times. Doesn't matter where, just as long as he feels you're around. Safe to say, he's extremely touch starved.

Oh how Kokichi would drop everything for a walk with you. He'd use every Mechamaru he had just to make sure no one disturbs either of you. Murder is just a side effect if they get too persistent. He just wants to spend time with you!

Though he likes walks, he still gets out of breath easily. Walking is nice, but he still needs time to get used to it. Offering to help will only cause him to lean against you, it's not too difficult, he doesn't weigh much for better or worse. He loves when you lend him a hand, it's just another reason to get close to you.

When you part, it's only natural that Kokichi gifts you a little trinket he made. Rejecting it will only reward you with the most devastated frown, so just accept it. If you get rid of it when coming home, it somehow always finds its way back to you? Destroying it will lead to Kokichi giving you another one.

Yes, it follows and watches you, but it's just to keep you safe! Who knows what could happen. Whether or not the little trinkets are subtle, all depends on how you reacted to him asking if it was alright to know your location at all times when he's not around. Kokichi is understanding if you're not okay with it. He'll just make his gifts extra subtle so you wont know he's watching.

He just wants to be by your side constantly, even if he's not able to be there in person. Watching you through a screen gives him a sickly familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it's better than not knowing what you're doing. He can even pick up little things about you this way for when he sees you next time! This is nothing but a win-win in his mind even if others beg to differ.

Kokichi never felt blessed. Not once since the day he was born, not until he found you. You who he feels is truly a gift from the heavens. You who he would give up everything to have. In a way, Kokichi is delusional. He sees you as the reason he got a heavenly restriction. It was as if other worldly forces tried to keep him at bay from pursuing you, but you're also the reason he broke his restrictions. He now has the body he wished for thanks to you, his drive, his motivation, his purpose, his love.

[extra shit]

Kokichi’s so fucking low key about being a chuunibyou. you're telling me he named his mech after an anime he watched. half his attacks have ultimate or ultra in the name.. HE MADE A FUCKING MECH. Your ass can't tell me he didn't watch anime while growing up and got inspired to make it a reality. He probably watched Evangelion or something.. Woah, anime dates with him where he makes your favorite creature and uses it to his advantage.. woah.

[Bonus Kokichi verbal abuse]

[masonmtxo]

Feels like Summer

Words: 3k

Summary: what started out as a holiday fic turned into girlie getting broody

Notes: please leave feedback, it really means the world and is such a motivator 🩷

•••

You'd never felt more relaxed in your life, the sun beating down on your skin as you laid on the lounger beside the pool, the heat making you sleepy, despite the chaos taking place only a few feet away from you.

A stark contrast from your pure state of bliss, Mason could only describe the fun being had in the pool as absolute bedlam. There were excitable screams from children in all directions, a niece (though he wasn't sure which one) was clinging to his back as she squealed, before her grip loosened and a little pink swimming costume clad body dove onto the unicorn float beside him. Poppy's little face spun to meet him, a huge grin on her face as he playfully grabbed hold of the float she was now sat upon, dragging it through the water behind him as his heart soared at her gleeful screams.

Don't get him wrong, he loved playing football, but the extended period of time he got to spend with his family under the sun during his summer break was his definition of perfection. Nothing could beat the feeling of spending his days being the fun uncle, acting like a big kid with his nieces and nephew, competing with his brother to be their favourite. He was in his element, splashing around the pool and playing games until they were all exhausted, heading inside for a snack and a nap. And in Mason's case, a cuddle and some loving with you. Sometimes you'd get involved in the chaos, his nieces adored you and would beg and beg until you'd jump in with them, sometimes telling Mason it was "girls time" and he wasn't allowed to join in. But for the most part you stayed in the dry, letting Mason and Lewis act as kids entertainers and tire themselves out trying to compete with each other.

You watched from your place beside the pool, eyes covered by sunglasses, exchanging words with Debbie every now and then as she sat on the sun lounger beside you.

You're not sure why you chose to blurt it out so abruptly, but you couldn't help yourself, heart soaring as you watched him interacting with his niece, "he's going to be the best dad."

Debbie took a sharp intake of breath, whipping her head round to look at you and peering over the top of her sunglasses, "are you...?"

Her words drifted off as you quickly stopped her,

"oh no, no, no," you hurried out, not missing the disappointment that washed over her face, "I just can't help but get broody when I see him with kids."

You and Debbie had always been close, she had treated you like her own from the minute you had met and over the years you had formed a close bond. There was something about the way her kind eyes bored into you that always had you opening up to her, something that her son had inherited too.

"He's in his element when he's with them, isn't he?" She smiled softly, her heart clenching as she watched you watching him, overcome with gratitude that her baby had found someone who loved him as much as you did. "He's always been good with kids, even when he was young all the littlens seemed to be drawn to him."

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink before turning to face her, breaking your eyes away from Mason as he began tossing Summer up in the air, "He keeps dropping hints about having a baby. I caught him looking at baby United kits on his phone the other day so I know he's ready."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I dunno, I guess with the move up North and having to re-jig my whole life, I felt quite unsettled for a while and there was no way a baby in the equation would have been practical," you shrugged, unable to avert your gaze from him, not wanting to a miss a second of the sweet display.

Debbie hummed in agreement, sensing you still had more to say.

Sighing, you carried on, "part of me is selfishly happy he didn't play much this season, as bad as it sounds," you were embarrassed to admit it, feeling guilty about the way you felt, but it was the truth, "It meant I had him around a bit more when I was feeling down. Don't get me wrong I'd move anywhere with him if he needed me to, but I don't think I fully comprehended how big of a change it would be for me. I've only just started making friends that aren't other partners of the players, wnd even with them it took me an age before I didnt feel like the new girl."

"Oh sweetheart," she reached across the beds to take hold of your hand, squeezing it in hers, "you know you could have always called, I would have been there in a heartbeat to come and keep you company."

"Mase did keep saying in the beginning that you would be happy to come up and stay for a bit, but I just didn't want to be an inconvenience you know" you paused, taking comfort from her warm hand in yours as you finally opened up about a years worth of turmoil, "he was the one who was getting hammered publically, he was the one who had to start off again at a whole new club. I just wanted him to worry about himself for once, not me."

"He always worries about you, he called me a lot in the first few months as he had a feeling you weren't settled but you were refusing to admit it," Debbie's voice was soft, motherly in a way that made you feel comfortable enough to divulge all your inner thoughts and fears.

"Bless him," you smiled as you turned back to look at him, now teaching the girls how to do star floats on their backs, "I remember one time l'd had a really bad day, a group of the girls who l'd been getting friendly with had met up without me and I was so sensitive, cried about it when I saw them all together on instagram," you laughed, "and he was so sweet, kept asking if I wanted to move back home and he would see if he could commute from London because he could tell I was unhappy."

Debbie laughed, shaking her head with a smile as it was something he had also mentioned to her in one of his panics. She had shut him down instantly, telling him to not be so dramatic and it was just a big adjustment.

"I think he was worried I would break up with him," you spoke softly, admitting something that you hadn't actually vocalised before.

Remembering the way he was on egg shells with you for weeks, doing everything he could to try and make you feel like Manchester was home.

Debbie didn't respond, just gave your hand another squeeze in acknowledgment. She knew it was something he had agonised over, sometimes breaking down into tears as he poured his heart out to his mum over the phone, worried he was making you unhappy by forcing you to leave your life behind for him. Debbie had reassured him repeatedly it wouldn't happen, and she had been right. It was just a bump in the road, and with his recurring injuries and subsequent time off the tearful calls had become less frequent, the extra time you had been allowed to spend together helping you settle into a new normal.

By the time he had gone back to training full time, you'd found your rhythm, making friends through Anouska who had kindly taken you under her wing and introduced you to all the best coffee places and parks to walk Ace in, the puppy Mason had bought to make you feel safer and less lonely when he was away. It had taken time, but you finally saw Manchester as home, loving the city more than you thought you would.

You settled into a comfortable silence for a while before Debbie spoke up again, still holding your hand in hers, "You know when you two were house hunting after moving up there he asked Lewis to find options that were listed as family homes," she smirked, eyebrows raised suggestively as you turned to look at her.

"I knew you'd want to go back to the grandkids topic," you giggled, shaking your head at her lack of subtlety, another trait Mason had taken from her.

"Can you blame me? I'll never say no to more babies in the family," her smile was infectious, making you return her grin.

"We did discuss a bit when we were house hunting. I didn't want to buy something so big to be honest, purely because the amount of cleaning it would need," you groaned, being reminded that you worry had come to fruition, "but he made a good point and said it's going to be the house we have kids in, so may as well buy one that's ready for that step."

"And are you ready for that step?"

"Yeah," you nodded, feeling sure of yourself, "he's been ready for the past few years, it's been me that's always had my foot on the break. But for the last few months the feeling just hasn't gone away, I keep going over to Anouska's just to get my baby fix with Lumie," you laughed, "and every time Stacey hands Honey over for a cuddle I struggle to give her back."

"You better hurry up and tell Mason then," she teased.

"Tell me what?" You both turned to see the man of the hour pulling himself up out of the pool having caught onto the last few words of your conversation.

Releasing her grip on your hand, Debbie shuffled up from her seat, "I'll leave you two to talk."

Watching her go, you would help but roll your eyes affectionately at the little spring in her step as she rushed over to the other side of the pool where Tony was sitting with a beer, clearly excited to fill him in on the prospect that they may soon be getting another grandchild.

Mason was watching you, taking the opportunity to drink in your bikini clad body while you were focused elsewhere, admiring the curves of your body and the glow from the sun on your skin.

"Go on then," he broke the silence, "what have you got to tell me?" His head cocked in question.

"Come here?" You asked, opening your arms to invite him to lay with you, figuring there was no time like the present and if you didn't tell him he would spend the day pestering you until you inevitability broke down to pressure.

"I've just got out of the pool," he warned, glancing down to his wet torso when he noticed you were transfixed on his body, a slight pink dusting over your already flushed cheeks.

"Don't care, want a cuddle," you murmured, smiling as he carefully plopped on top of you, head resting on your chest as his left hand trailed up and down the side of your body. His wet body cooled you instantly from the layer of heat the sun had given you, goosebumps covering your skin from the combined sensations of the cold and his gentle touch.

You sat in silence for a while, gathering your thoughts while enjoying the feeling of having each other close, the last time you had an opportunity to spend time with him had been in bed that morning. You had awoken to day light flooding into the room having forgotten to close them the night before in your desperation to get each other into bed. Your neediness hadn't passed, knowing you had to make the most of your time together before spending the day surrounded by his family. He had fucked into you slowly from behind, whispering how much he loved you into your ear until you were both spent, followed by another quick fumble in the shower before getting ready to meet the others for breakfast.

The kids had stolen him after that, so you made sure to enjoy the moments you had with him during the day, even if they were few and far between sometimes.

“So, you gonna tell me what mum was talking about?” He broke the silence after a while, fingers tracing over your stomach and you couldn't help but smile at the irony.

"I want a baby.”

His head shot up from your chest instantly, wild eyes searching your expression, "Are you serious!?"

"Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “I've been thinking about it for a while, every time I see you with kids I feel like I’m going to explode. But that's only if you're ready too.”

He laughed, the grin on his face probably the biggest you'd ever seen, happiness radiating through his brown eyes, “You know I've always been ready to have kids with you.”

“I know,” you face was apologetic, reaching out to cup his cheek and trace a gentle path across his flushed cheek, “and i'm sorry for making you wait so long, I just felt like bringing a baby into the world when I was feeling a bit all over the place wasn't the best idea.”

“No I get that, it wasn't the right time last year,” he agreed solomley, though a smile was threatening to burst through, “I know we spoke about kids and how we wanted them soon when we moved into the house but I was always happy to wait until you were ready too.”

“I felt ready all along in terms of our relationship, like if it happened accidentally last year I never would've had doubts or felt rushed. I just didn't feel ready to start actively trying you know? Felt like we had a lot going on and the pressure would've got to me I think."

"We don't have to put any pressure on it, even if it takes time," he reassured, "the baby making is the fun bit anyway." His cheeky grin made you giggle, loving the way he always knew exactly what to say to relax you and make you laugh. "And if you have second thoughts and want to wait for a bit before we remove contraception that's fine. We can do everything at your pace.”

You shook your head softly, he was so unbelievably caring you felt your stomach clench with love, "no I don't need anymore time to think," eyes flitting away from him to admire a bird circling the sky above you,

"It's something i've been thinking about for months now. I thought I’d wait and see, to see if the feeling went away once summer started and you were home all the time and I wasn't so lonely. But if anything it has got worse, I've never been so broody in my life.”

"Yeah?" His voice was soft, his eyes a little bit watery as he struggled to contain the love he felt for you in that moment.

"Yeah," you confirmed, mirroring his expression.

He rested his head back on your chest, trying to steady his breathing as his heart hammered in his chest. You were finally saying everything he had been waiting to hear for the past year, excitement pulsing through his entire body at the prospect of getting to become a parent with you.

"I want two, maybe 3 kids I think,” you murmured.

"Oh at least 3 for sure, the more you let me have the better," he grinned teasingly, his chin resting on the valley between your chest so he could look up at you adoringly.

"You're gonna be the best daddy in the world," you hummed, stroking the back of his head through his wet locks.

"And you’ll be the best mum,” he whispered, pressing a series of kisses to your chest, trailing his lips up until he reached your neck, “wanna go practice making a baby?"

"Mason, I just spoke to your mum about wanting a child, I'm not disappearing off with you, she will know exactly what we're doing," you groaned, gently grasping his face and pushing him out from the crook of your neck in an attempt to stop him getting carried away.

Mason barked out a laugh, "Babe, mum knows if she wants another grandchild we're gonna have to be having lots of sex, probably even more than usual," he wiggled his eyebrows at you suggestively, trying to charm you into letting him have his way with you but you were holding firm.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean hiding away to have a shag while on a family holiday, when all your nieces and nephews are here as well."

"You let me fuck you last night," he grumbled, "and this morning."

"Yes, while everyone was in bed Mason," you chastised.

"Baby they aren't stupid, they know we don't go in our room at night and play scrabble til we fall asleep," his voice was teasing, letting you know he was only playing around with you.

"That's beside the point, Mase. If we disappear now you may as well stand up and make an announcement across the villa we're going for a quick fuck."

"I mean I wouldn't be opposed to doing that," he shrugged, playfully biting at the palm of your hand that was still cupped around his face, "at least we wouldn't be disturbed."

"You're an idiot," you couldn't help but laugh at him, flicking him on the shoulder in jest.

"But you love me and you wanna make loads of babies with me," his smirk was full of teasing, dipping his head to bite gently down on the swell of your breast knowing it would wind you up further.

"Mason, do you remember you said I could decide otherwise at any point?" You asked pointedly.

He nodded, his smile not dropping.

"Don't test me," you countered.

With another sharp laugh, he pulled you in for a kiss, cupping your face in his large hand, his lips sweet and soft against yours before pulling away, "fine, I'll wait until tonight then."

🩷✨☁️

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