#airplane would approve

[qourmet]

Genuinely tho I Am sorry that my First moshang piece is a PWP 4 page comic

[thebiballerina]

Wait… you're telling me there were supposed to be RULES? To where DATES could happen? I… just always assumed dates happened when you asked someone out, and then did an activity with them. I understand restaurants and such are a popular choice, but… aren't you supposed to do things which are enjoyable to the people on the date? Why does anything else matter?

Unless you are actively and intentionally committing crimes on your dates, in which case proper forensic caution does matter. Remember, kids: Sex before marriage is cool. Arrest before marriage is for fools.

i know the 'is mcdonalds a date' questions making its rounds but i feel kind of insane bc thats never even been a metric for me. a date is just when someone says its a date. i went on a date w someone to smoke in a building w a caved in cieling in the rain, shoplifted from a gas station paranoid as hell to get them a soft pretzel and then we chased a rat around. where is your sense of adventure people

[sunderwight]

Cumplane where Airplane, in a fit of either bravery or insanity or positive or negative self-esteem (he's not totally sure) decides to cosplay as Luo Binghe and post the pictures online.

Of course, he doesn't do it as "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky", he knows he has some questionable fans and doesn't really want to hand them a picture of his face. So he posts the images under one of the pseudonyms he uses for lurking around the comment section and social media tags. It's just a handful of images of him looking like the protagonist in his head, attempting to strike cool poses in a wig and some period clothes (he rented both).

The reception is... mixed. Airplane does not have abs, after all, nor a flawless complexion or much skill with makeup. He is fat, freckled, and awkward. The PIDW readership is not known for being particularly supportive either. In fact they're mostly a crab bucket of negativity and masculine posturing, so he gets a lot of mean-spirited commentary.

It's fine. Nothing he hadn't expected. Really solidifies for him that posting was a fit of madness, actually! What did he even expect? He's bracing himself for the worst when he sees that Peerless Cucumber, notorious hate-reader and defender of Luo Binghe's honor, has commented. Ah, shit. He's probably going to rip into Airplane for daring to sully his precious Binghe's reputation by dressing up like that, isn't he?

The comment is long, too. Fuck. Airplane's not sure if his self-esteem can take a comprehensive beating from the champion hater himself, but he's too curious not to look.

Shen Yuan, in the meanwhile, is just pleased that there has FINALLY been a Luo Binghe cosplayer who looks the part. Of course Luo Binghe wouldn't have exaggerated muscles, those are just a product of dehydration. Binghe spent most of his disciple years running around chopping wood and hauling laundry, and then later doing whatever he could to pack on the calories in order to make it through the Abyss. A hefty workman's build would only make sense for him, anything else would be nonsense. Airplane also described Luo Binghe as having a beautiful face, which Shen Yuan won't blame most cosplayers for not being able to just make happen, but a beautiful face doesn't mean "covered in so much makeup it looks like an anime character"! When would Luo Binghe have the time or inclination to put on makeup? A natural beauty with some inevitable blemishes would make more sense and be much more appealing, and this "Airplane Crashing to the Ground" (funny play on the author's name, Shen Yuan approves) has very pretty features! Everyone hating on this cosplay is just an idiot, the only actual problem is that his wig is poorly fitted.

So in true Peerless Cucumber fashion, he lays this all out.

This gets him embroiled in arguments with several other fans, who even accuse him of actually being the guy in the photos, claiming that there's no other reason why he would defend them. Shen Yuan doesn't care if people think that's him, because that's still the best Luo Binghe cosplay he's ever seen, but he doesn't want them doubting the sincerity of his arguments. So, he decides that the only reasonable thing to do is dress himself up in cosplay as well and then post the actual photos of himself.

While he'd like to dress up as one of Luo Binghe's allies like Mobei Jun, or maybe someone cool like Yue Qingyuan, he is too pedantic to think he could pull that off. Those guys are all strong warrior types, and Shen Yuan is a scrawny pale rich kid who looks like he'd probably lose a fight with a wet paper towel. The only characters he could plausibly pull off would be some of the more consumptive members of Binghe's harem and maybe, maybe, one of the weaker villains like Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan is NOT posting pictures of himself crossplaying to the central nexus of toxic masculinity itself, so... Shen Qingqiu it is!

Poor Airplane has to go sit and stare at a while for a while. Peerless Cucumber likes his cosplay. Peerless Cucumber, ardent defender of Shang Qinghua's sellout crappy main character mary-sue, thinks Airplane is good-looking enough to cosplay as him. And said so. Repeatedly. And then posted borderline thirst-trap villain cosplay of himself, inadvertently revealing in the process that he is hot.

What the. What. What?!

Anyway, Shen Yuan suggests that they attend the next convention both cosplaying together because Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is supposed to be doing a meet & greet at that one, and wouldn't it be fun to go as a pair? And Airplane agrees before his brain catches up and he realizes that might present a problem.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Can we have more of “Demon and Angel Brat”? I love those demon twins so much, also I’m wondering how the Phantom family is hadling this, are Sam and Tucker also in to this? Does Jazz approves this prank? (Wondering how Dani or Dan will fut in this too)

Danny gets a phone call.

Damian knew his brother's real life would eventually burst the bubble on their fun, but he was not expecting it to be broken this soon into their prank.

The Fentons, of course, knew of their little joke and had been fine with having to speak to Danny in secret. Since their cover story was that Danny was too sick to be anything but support for the Bats- and even then, he would sometimes head to bed early if he wasn't feeling well- it was easy to find a little corner of the Manor for Danny to call home. Though that was usually at three in the morning, the Fentons didn't seem to mind.

Mr. and Mrs. Fenton even gave ideas to have Danny act out in order to scare the Waynes. Mr. Fenton's favorite was making Drake panic by making Danny suggest they do "Dark Magic" then have it turn out to be harmless fun.

Like claiming to want to make love potions for Dowd and then just making some homemade juice for the teenager. Drake looked like he was having a heart attack when Danny busted out potion bottles and edible glitter.

Mrs Fenton, on the other hand, wanted to focus more on logical details. She asked Danny to make wild claims about what he was allowed to do in the Manor. Since Danny supposedly didn't go out much, she felt that he needed to create great memories around the Manor, and thus Danny convinced whoever happened to be walking by to play games with him.

Thomas had pushed Danny on an office chair for almost four hours while his brother pretended to be an airplane pilot. Damian had later seen Thomas, Brown, and Cain pretending to be a prince and two princess trapped at the top of the stairs as if they were locked away in a tower while Danny fought imaginary knights down below.

He thinks Cain only went along with it because she got to wear a big puffy pink dress. Father had ordered costumes for Danny to play with after his brother got back from the history museum with Todd.

Damian knows Todd and Father were also still attempting to pressure the history museum into installing fake historical events that Danny made up. It wasn't going well, but they were making a decent effort.

Still all this fun had only been over the course of two weeks and that seemed to be far too long for Danny's friends.

Thus, the phone call arrived in the middle of dinner with the entire family twisting towards the "sick" twin. Danny stared at this phone, looking as if he had forgotten it could ring before he clicked the call to connect.

""Excuse me I need to take this." He held it up to his ear while standing from table. "Hey Tuck. What's up?"

Damian watches his brother walk out of the room, tugging along his gas tank and heart pack like it was second nature. The large dining room door closes behind him with a soft click, and a few blissful of seconds follow, before everyone starts demanding answers.

"Who's Tuck?" Ricard accused as Damian dabbed his mouth with napkin "Why is this Tuck calling Danny?"

Now Damian could say the truth, could make it easier on his brother and the family, even he liked a laugh every once in a while. After all he was a twin to a mischievous prankster.

"Tuck, is Danny's ridiculous nickname for Tucker Foley. He's Danny's ex" Damian revealed with a hand wave. The family's faces darken (except for Cain and Alfred. One because she knows he's lying, and the other because he thinks it's healthy to date) "Danny broke up with him after their summer fling, and now Foley is dating their other friend, Samantha Manson. Between you and I, Foley and Manson are carrying a torch for Danny and are likely attempting to include them in a throuple."

"I want everything you can find on Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson," Father snaps at Drake, who already had his tablet out and typing a storm on his travel keyboard. Thankfully, Danny had gotten Gordon to fake a Gotham tech camp so his two friends could visit him in the city soon.

It was so Damian could get to know his friends and so that all three could have a break from ghost hunting, but this would be entertaining to watch.

Damian sips his tea, watching Brown and Todd hiss threats under their breaths while Thomas actively cracks his knuckles. He only did that when he was feeling particularly violent.

Drake lets out a noise that he has only ever heard him make when he's about to blow up a building. He twists his tablet around, banging his other hand on the tabletop aggressively. "Bruce, I think things with Foley were more serious than is appropriate for Danny. He's only fourteen!"

It took every ounce of his training not to burst out laughing. On Drake's tablet is a photo of Danny and Foley cuddling while asleep on the floor. It was posted by Manson with the caption "We made some interesting discoveries tonight!"

He knows she meant the purple back gorilla, but the poor girl just didn't have a way with words like she thought she did.

It's that moment that Danny wanders back in, wearing his normal bright and innocent smile. "Tucker and Sam are coming to Gotham. They want to hang out with me at Lover's Lane!"

Damian slams a hand over his mouth, just barely stopping himself from spewing his tea across the table as his family bristles. Lover's Lane was the best spot in all of Gotham to see the city's lights and had some of the best public gardens. A sight people from a small town like Amity Park would adore to see.

It also earned the nickname Lover's Lane for a very obvious reason, but Damian feels Danny has forgotten that part.

"You are not-"

"-Going to want to meet them wearing the same old clothes. Why don't I take you shopping after you finish eating Master Danny" Alfred cuts father off mid rant, sending everyone a stern glare when the family's all look ready to argue "After all, if your friends who clearly remember how much fun they have with you, it would be a pity to have them erase those good memories with a wardrobe malfunction."

Damian should tell his father to give that man a raise.

[ineffectualdemon]

I need to point out again that one of Shen Yuan's favourite things about OG Binghe in PIDW was his revenge plots

He calls it out as satisfying and a large part of what made Binghe cool

He also takes Binghe's belief system of paying pack all hurts 100 times over and taught it to all of Qing Jing Peak as Shen Qingqiu

He thinks Binghe is coming to kill him largely because he thinks that Binghe doing so would be right! He is trying to satisfy his need for revenge because it's what he would want!

He is disturbed by the dismemberment of the Old Palace Master because it reminds him of what could have happened to him but he doesn't think Binghe was at all wrong for doing so and when he finds out more about Binghe's parents he approves even more.

He's a little squeamish and he thinks Zhuzhi Lang take it it in a weird direction but he is for bloody retribution!

He just has a different category of hurts that are considered worth acting on then Shen Jiu or Zhuzhi Lang

(Mostly probably if they hurt Binghe. I think he cares more about hurts to him then himself)

It's Shang Qinghua/Airplane who thinks it's gross and depressing and would rather not kill people out of revenge

[satellite-evans]

Verano Argentino

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: Franco taking his girlfriend to Argentina for the first time :)

Word count: 6k

Warnings: nothing but fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The hum of the airplane engine softened as the wheels touched down in Buenos Aires. You glanced out the window, seeing the city stretch out under a pastel sunset. The sight was breathtaking, a blend of orange, pink, and lavender that painted the skyline. But the butterflies fluttering in your stomach made it hard to fully focus. This wasn’t just a vacation—it was a first in many ways. You were in Franco’s world now, stepping into a piece of his life that he’d always spoken of with such pride and warmth. The thought was equal parts exciting and nerve-wracking. Would his family like you? Would you fit into this place that clearly held so much of his heart?

As the plane taxied to the gate, Franco turned to you with a grin that lit up his face, his dark eyes shining with excitement. He gently squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in soothing circles. The small gesture grounded you.

“How does it feel to finally be in Argentina?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with a palpable eagerness.

“It feels surreal,” you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips. “I can’t believe I’m actually here. I haven't seen anything yet, but I know it will be magical.”

Franco’s smile widened. “It gets even better, trust me, mi amor. Get ready because the adventure is just getting started.”

The plane came to a halt, and as the seatbelt sign dinged off, the cabin filled with the sound of passengers stretching, opening overhead compartments, and chatting. Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “And remember, if you get overwhelmed by my family, just give me a look. I’ll swoop in and save you.”

You laughed softly. “Thanks for the backup.”

As you disembarked, Franco took charge of the luggage, grabbing both your suitcase and his with ease. “I’ve got this,” he said, waving off your protests. “You just enjoy the moment.”

You stepped into the arrivals area, where a small crowd bustled around, families reuniting with hugs and cheerful voices. Standing near the back, a man and a woman held a handmade sign that read, “Bienvenida,!” with both your and Franco's name written on it. Franco’s parents, Aníbal and Andrea, waved enthusiastically when they saw you. Beside them was a younger girl, practically bouncing on her heels excitedly. Martina, Franco’s sister.

“There they are,” Franco said, his voice warm as he guided you toward them. “Ready?”

You nodded, your pulse quickening.

Andrea was the first to reach you, her arms opening wide as she enveloped you in a hug. It was warm and comforting, and she smelled faintly of lavender. She began speaking quickly in Spanish, her words spilling out in a flurry of excitement.

Franco leaned in, his cheek brushing against yours as he whispered a translation. “She says she’s so happy to finally meet you and that I’ve been talking about you non-stop.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you offered a shy, “Muchas gracias,” which earned you an approving nod and a wide smile from Andrea. Her eyes sparkled with delight as she held your hands for a moment longer, as if to absorb the reality of your presence.

Aníbal’s handshake was firm but friendly, his grip warm and steady. He spoke in accented English, his voice rich and deep. “Welcome to Argentina. It is a pleasure to have you here.”

“Thank you so much for having me,” you replied, grateful for his calm and reassuring demeanor.

Martina, however, couldn’t contain her energy. She darted forward and threw her arms around you in a quick but enthusiastic hug. “I’m Martina,” she said in clear English, her bright eyes darting between you and Franco. “So, this is your girlfriend,” she added with a mischievous grin, her tone teasing as she turned to her brother. “You’ve got good taste, hermano.”

Franco laughed, puffing out his chest in an exaggerated gesture of pride. “Of course I do. Did you expect anything less?”

Martina rolled her eyes but was clearly amused. “We’ll see if she survives dinner with the family,” she quipped, winking at you.

Franco groaned dramatically. “Don’t scare her off already!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter. Despite your initial nerves, the warmth and energy of Franco’s family were already making you feel at ease. You exchanged a look with him, and he gave you a reassuring smile, as if to say, “See? I told you they’d love you.”

The ride to the Colapinto home was filled with laughter and chatter, the kind of easy, effortless conversation that only a close-knit family can share. Franco’s family, warm and welcoming, switched seamlessly between Spanish and English, ensuring you felt included in every exchange. His father, a jovial man with a booming voice, would joke in Spanish, while his mother, Andrea, would smile at you knowingly, making sure you understood the sentiment even if you didn't catch every word. Franco sat beside you in the backseat, his arm draped casually over your shoulder, the comfort of his touch a quiet reassurance.

Every so often, Franco would lean in, his lips close to your ear as he translated a joke or explained a comment made in Spanish, his breath warm against your skin. His voice, soft and intimate, made you feel as though you were the only one in the world.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing circles on your shoulder, the gentle pressure of his touch sending a warmth that spread through you. His thumb brushed your skin in a slow rhythm, sending little shivers down your spine as the car cruised down the sun-dappled streets.

You leaned into Franco, feeling his presence, his steady, comfortable energy. "It feels nice," you said softly, almost to yourself.

He gave a small, affectionate smile, squeezing your shoulder gently. “I knew you’d fit right in,” he said, his tone filled with quiet pride, and you couldn’t help but feel a deeper affection for him in that moment.

When the car pulled into the driveway, you were immediately struck by the home’s charm. It sat nestled in a quiet neighborhood, with the glow of the setting sun casting a light on the terracotta roof. Colorful tiles lined the pathway leading to the front door, and vibrant bougainvillea vines clung to the walls, their brilliant pink blossoms adding to the home’s already welcoming feel. You could already sense the warmth and love that filled this space, just from the beauty that surrounded it.

Andrea led the way, her steps light and purposeful as she ushered you inside. She spoke animatedly in Spanish, forgetting you couldn’t speak even tough Franco told her. And Franco, walking beside you, translated with ease, his voice calm and steady. He made sure to include you in every detail explaining that his mother would only speak in Spanish if she was too excited, as his mother proudly pointed out the little quirks of the house.

“This is where Martina and I used to play football,” he said, gesturing to the backyard where a weathered soccer ball lay forgotten on the grass. “We would run around for hours, trying to beat each other. We even had a goalpost set up here.”

The smile on Franco’s face grew softer, nostalgic, as he remembered those childhood days. His eyes met yours, and there was a tenderness in his gaze that made your heart skip a beat.

“And this is my mom’s pride and joy,” he continued, leading you toward the garden, “her garden.”

Andrea beamed with pride as you admired the rows of flowers and herbs. Her hands fluttered in the air, explaining the significance of each plant, from the rosemary that was said to bring good fortune to the lavender she used to make soaps. She spoke with a gentle warmth, the joy in her voice obvious as she shared stories of her garden’s growth.

Franco, leaning closer to you, chuckled quietly, his breath brushing against your cheek. “She’s telling you about the time I accidentally trampled her mint plants when I was a kid,” he whispered, his voice playful. “She still brings it up every chance she gets. ‘Franco, you ruined my mint,’ she says.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at Andrea, who nodded emphatically, her expression a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation. "You never learn," she added, her eyes twinkling with affection. You could feel the family bonds here, the playful teasing, and the genuine love.

“Oh, really?” you teased back, glancing at Andrea as you wiped a mock tear from your eye. “Such a tragic mint disaster.”

Franco laughed, his arm still comfortably around your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer. “It was a disaster,” he said with a wink, “but she’s forgiven me.”

The tour continued inside, where Franco led you to his childhood room. You took in the modest space, the way it still held pieces of his past—racing car posters on the walls, trophies and medals carefully displayed on a shelf. The room had been a place where dreams had been born and nurtured, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers over the polished metal of the trophies.

“Wow,” you said, genuinely impressed. “You were quite the athlete.”

Franco’s grin widened, and he stepped closer to you, the playful energy between you palpable. “Still am,” he replied, his voice dripping with confidence. He leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as he whispered, “But these days, my best moves are off the track.”

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, filled with a quiet affection that made your heart race. When he pulled away, his eyes danced with that mischievous glint, and your cheeks warmed.

“What?” he asked innocently, his hands resting gently on your waist. “You’re cute when you blush.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re impossible,” you said, but the affection in your voice was undeniable.

Franco laughed, his eyes never leaving yours. He pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—connected in this quiet, simple moment of joy. You could feel the depth of the bond you were beginning to share with him, the easy, unspoken affection that had already taken root in your heart.

"Come on, let me show you the rest of the house."

That evening, Franco’s family gathered around the dinner table, and the warmth of the atmosphere felt like a physical embrace. The house was alive with energy, voices mingling in a beautiful harmony, the air thick with the savory scents of grilled meats, fresh salads, and the unmistakable smell of empanadas. The table was an impressive spread, a feast that seemed to invite everyone to stay and share stories, laughter, and love.

Aníbal worked the grill with an ease that spoke of years of experience. His hands moved with confident precision, flipping steaks and sausages, while his deep laugh boomed across the backyard. Andrea and Martina flitted around the kitchen, preparing side dishes and making sure everything was perfect. You asked if you could help with anything, but they declined you immediately and said that they had everything under control. Their voices were like a symphony, creating a sense of inclusivity and warmth.

Franco, ever the attentive host, stayed close by your side and talked your ears off about F1 while he played with a strand of your hair. He would lean in every so often, his breath warm against your skin, and whisper a funny remark or a translation, filling in the gaps and ensuring you never felt left out. His hand would occasionally brush yours under the table, a subtle but constant reminder of his presence, and each small touch made your heart flutter.

Andrea turned her gaze toward you, her eyes soft and filled with curiosity. In the midst of the laughter and clinking glasses, she asked, “So, how did you guys meet? I keep asking Franco but he doesn't budge.” Her tone was kind, but there was a spark of genuine interest in her voice.

You felt your cheeks warm at the question, and before you could find your words, Franco leaned in, flashing you a playful grin and finally giving in. “I chased her down after a race,” he teased, his voice dripping with mock bravado. “I saw her standing with a bunch of her friends, but she was the only one that stood out, for me at least. Her hair, her smile. Her eyes were 100 percent more shiny than the moon that night. So I couldn't help myself and went after her. And she couldn’t resist my charm, of course.”

The family burst into laughter, but Martina raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with a mischievous smirk. “Oh really?” she said, her tone laced with humor. “Or was it the other way around?”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, the tension in your chest dissipating as you realized how at ease you were with Franco’s family. With a lighthearted shrug, you started recounting the real story of how you met. The way you’d first encountered each other at that event, the way Franco had been more focused on winning than on noticing anyone else, until he had finally caught your eye. His family listened intently, nodding and smiling as you shared your version of the story, and soon the conversation began to flow naturally, with everyone chiming in and taking turns asking questions.

Andrea asked you about your life back home, her eyes warm as she listened to you explain your culture and what you loved to do back home. By the time dessert came around, a homemade flan served with dollops of rich dulce de leche, you felt like you had known these people for years. You laughed at their stories, shared in their fondness for each other, and couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the warmth and genuine affection they exuded. They made you feel like one of their own, not just a guest in their home, and for the first time in a long while, you felt completely at ease, as if you truly belonged.

Later, after the table had been cleared and the evening’s conversations turned to soft murmurs, you and Franco headed up to his room. As you both prepared for bed, Franco pulled you into a gentle embrace, his arms encircling you with a tenderness that was comforting and intimate. His chin rested on the top of your head as he whispered, “They really like you.”

You leaned into him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. “You think so?” you asked, a little uncertain.

“I know so,” he replied with a quiet certainty, kissing the top of your head. “When you went to the bathroom, they told me. Martina thinks you’re ‘ too cool for me,’ by the way.”

You giggled at the thought of his little sister’s approval, feeling your nerves melt away. His words were like a balm to your heart, reassuring you that you were more than just an outsider in their world. As you climbed into bed together, you whispered about the day, recounting moments of laughter and things you wanted to see in Argentina. But before you could fully drift off to sleep, Franco rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to gaze at you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I don’t think I’ve told you just how beautiful you looked today.”

You turned your head to face him, a smile tugging at your lips. “You might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. “But I’m not complaining.”

Franco smirked, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. His hand moved along your waist, pulling you closer as his lips deepened the kiss. His touch was gentle yet insistent, the way his fingers traced the curve of your spine sending shivers through you. The moment felt electric, the quiet of the room amplifying the intensity of his kiss, the way his lips moved against yours with increasing intent.

When his hand slipped to the small of your back, you pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed. “Franco,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “We can’t. They can hear.”

He grinned, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously in the dim light. “So?” he teased, his lips grazing your ear. “Mama and Papa are heavy sleepers and my sister is probably busy watching tiktoks. They won't hear your moans.”

You gasped, a little flustered, “Franco!”

His laughter filled the space between you as he leaned in again. “Shh,” he said, kissing your lips lightly before nipping at your ear. “You’re going to wake them up if you keep talking.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but before you could get a word out, he silenced you with another kiss. His hand cupped your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted his teasing nature, and in that moment, his confidence was like a force, making you forget the world outside the room. His lips moved to your neck, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

And then, as if the universe decided to make things even more dramatic, the door creaked open.

“Franco! I—oh my God!” Martina’s voice cut through the intimate moment like a thunderclap.

You froze, your face instantly heating up, and you scrambled to pull the covers up to your chin. Franco, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he flopped back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands as he burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“I just needed my jacket!” Martina squeaked, her voice high-pitched with embarrassment. She quickly grabbed the jacket from the chair by the door, her face a shade of red that almost matched the blush on yours. Without another word, she fled, slamming the door behind her.

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “I can’t believe that just happened,” you mumbled, half laughing, half mortified.

Franco turned his head toward you, still chuckling softly. “Why not? It’s not the first time,” he said, his grin teasing but full of affection.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the awkward interruption easing as the two of you shared this moment.

"Seriously, Franco, that was so embarrassing."

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a tenderness that contrasted with his earlier teasing. "It’s only embarrassing if you let it be. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’ll be too mortified to bring it up again anytime soon."

You glanced toward the door, half-expecting Martina to burst in again with more awkwardness. But there was nothing—just the lingering tension from the interruption and the weight of his words. “I guess you’re right,” you admitted, your fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the blankets. The only thing you wanted to do was sleep and forget that it ever happened.

The following morning, the sun poured in through the window, casting a warm light over the room. You woke up feeling disoriented for a moment, the unfamiliar sounds of birds outside and the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze signaling that you were no longer at home. Beside you, Franco stirred, his arm draped over your waist. His chest rose and fell with steady, rhythmic breaths, his presence comforting in the quiet of the early morning.

You smiled softly to yourself, memories of the previous evening flooding back—the laughter, the teasing, the way you felt so welcomed by his family. Despite the brief and awkward interruption by Martina, last night had been a success. You felt like you were becoming a part of something bigger than just a visit to a new country. You were beginning to feel like family.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake Franco, and quietly slid out of bed. The coolness of the wooden floor greeted your bare feet as you stood up, and you stretched your arms above your head, yawning. You felt at peace, as though you could enjoy this moment forever—just you and Franco in this foreign city, with nothing but time and possibility ahead.

The aroma of fresh coffee reached you before you even stepped into the hallway. As you walked downstairs, you saw Andrea already bustling in the kitchen, humming softly as she prepared breakfast. She looked up when she saw you enter and greeted you with a bright smile.

"Good morning, querida," she said warmly, her hands moving gracefully as she flipped a few pancakes on the griddle. “I hope you slept well.”

“I did, thank you,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at her kindness. You stepped further into the kitchen, drawn to the comforting scents of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling eggs. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and churros,” Andrea said, her voice carrying a hint of pride. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I think I could eat everything you’ve made,” you said with a smile, your stomach already rumbling in anticipation.

Andrea chuckled. “Good. I’ll make sure there’s enough for everyone.” She poured a cup of coffee for you and handed it over. “I thought you might enjoy this before Franco wakes up.”

You took the coffee gratefully, savoring the rich aroma as you took your first sip. It was strong, just the way you liked it. For a moment, you stood there, simply soaking in the feeling of being surrounded by Franco’s family—this sense of belonging that was starting to settle in your chest.

Before you could settle into your thoughts, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, and Franco appeared in the doorway, his dark hair slightly messy from sleep. He looked half-awake but still incredibly handsome, his eyes sparkling with a lazy warmth. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small yawn.

“Morning,” he mumbled, a sleepy smile forming on his lips as he saw you standing by the counter.

“Good morning,” you replied, taking another sip of coffee. “Your mom’s made an incredible breakfast.”

Franco’s eyes immediately turned to the food, and his stomach gave an audible growl. “I didn’t know churros were on the menu,” he said, walking over to the griddle. “Mama, you’re spoiling me.”

“Don’t complain,” Andrea teased as she flipped another batch of pancakes. “You’ve been away for so long, you deserve a good breakfast.”

Franco grinned and turned to you. “I might just stay here forever if it means I get breakfast like this every day.”

You laughed, but there was a part of you that agreed with him. There was something so comforting about being here, surrounded by the warmth of family and the simple pleasures of a meal shared together.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of laughter, delicious food, and easy conversation. After breakfast, Franco’s family insisted on showing you around Buenos Aires. It was a beautiful, sprawling city, full of color and life. You wandered through the cobbled streets, the city’s architecture blending colonial influences with modern design. You felt like you were walking through an art gallery with every step.

Franco was in his element, eager to share his love for his hometown with you. As you walked hand-in-hand, he pointed out landmarks he cherished, the small café where he and his friends used to hang out, the bookshop where he’d spent hours on lazy afternoons, and the street art that lined the walls of the city. You soaked it all in, fascinated by the rhythm of the city and how easily Franco moved through it, as though it were part of his very being.

“Do you like it here?” Franco asked, his voice casual as he leaned in a little closer to you.

“I love it,” you said with genuine enthusiasm. “It’s so vibrant. There’s so much life here.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Franco said with a smile, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. “I’m proud of my city, and I wanted to show you why.”

By the time the sun began to dip low in the sky, you had already explored so many new places that you felt like you could call Buenos Aires home.

That evening, you and Franco sat on the balcony of his house, overlooking the garden below. The evening breeze was cool against your skin, and the sky had shifted to a deep, star-filled navy. The two of you were wrapped in a blanket, with soft laughter and comfortable silence filling the space between you.

“What’s your favorite thing about this city?” you asked, your voice low as you nestled further into the warmth of Franco’s side.

Franco didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to look out at the city below. The lights twinkled like a sea of fireflies, and the hum of the city life seemed so distant now, replaced by the peaceful quiet of the moment.

“I think it’s the energy,” he finally said, his voice thoughtful. “There’s a kind of pulse here, like the city is alive. It’s a place where anything can happen, where people chase their dreams and live for the moment.”

“I can feel that,” you said softly, your heart full as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

Franco’s hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours with an easy familiarity. You squeezed his hand in return, not knowing what the future held but knowing that, in this moment, everything felt perfect.

But just as the night seemed to settle into a peaceful lull, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. It was Martina again, her head poking out from behind the sliding glass door, a playful grin on her face.

“You two look cozy,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “I hope you’re not making out on the balcony again.”

Franco groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Martina, go away,” he muttered, but you could tell he wasn’t really bothered.

“I’ll leave when I’m ready,” Martina shot back, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You two should try to get out of the house tomorrow. Buenos Aires has more to offer than just each other.”

You both chuckled, the awkwardness of the situation evaporating instantly. Franco, as if to save you both from further teasing, stood up and stretched. “We’ll go on an adventure tomorrow,” he promised. “But tonight, it’s just us.”

Martina raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine. Have your moment, lovebirds,” she said with a wink before disappearing back inside.

You and Franco exchanged an amused glance before turning your attention back to the sky, the sound of the city below blending with the quiet rhythm of your shared breathing. The night was still, and for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

The next morning, you woke up feeling lighthearted and content. The warmth of Franco’s family had melted any lingering nerves, and today felt like the perfect opportunity for a little relaxation, just the two of you.

You had no idea what Franco had planned, but as he ushered you into the car that morning with an excited grin, you knew it was going to be something special. The drive was filled with playful chatter, the kind that had become second nature between the two of you. Franco kept glancing at you from time to time, giving you teasing smirks as he described the beach he was taking you to.

"I hope you like it. It's one of my favorite places to clear my head," he said, his voice warm with that familiar, easygoing confidence.

You raised an eyebrow. "Clear your head? I didn't take you for the beach type."

Franco shot you a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the playful challenge. “Oh, trust me. I’m more than just a race car driver with a need for speed. Sometimes, I like to slow down, enjoy the simple things.”

You smirked, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “So, you’re saying you're a beach philosopher now?”

He gave a dramatic sigh. “I’m just trying to bring a little culture to your life, cariño,” he teased, calling you by the affectionate nickname he had already grown fond of using.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

Soon enough, the city gave way to open roads, and before long, the landscape shifted to a view of the ocean—an endless stretch of golden sand meeting the calm waves. As you both pulled into the parking lot, the salty breeze hit you, and you couldn't help but breathe in deeply, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace settle over you.

Franco was already out of the car, grabbing towels and a beach bag, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Come on, let’s go! You’re going to love this place,” he said, already pulling you toward the shore with that infectious enthusiasm of his.

You followed him to the water’s edge, feeling the warm sand beneath your feet as the sound of the waves intensified. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Franco turned to you, a wicked grin forming on his face. “Bet you can’t beat me to the water.”

You looked at him skeptically, already plotting your move. “You know I don’t have the competitive edge like you, but I’m not letting you get away with that.”

Before he could react, you dashed ahead, running toward the waves, feeling the rush of the cool sea spray against your legs. Franco laughed behind you, quick on your heels. You both reached the water at the same time, with him managing to grab your wrist just before you got fully submerged.

"Cheater," you muttered playfully, but Franco only flashed a grin.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, cariño,” he teased, his hand never leaving your waist as you stood in the shallows, the waves rolling gently around your ankles. “You’re too cute when you get competitive.”

You shot him a mock glare, crossing your arms. “I’m competitive when I want to be.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “I’ve noticed.”

The warmth of the sun on your skin and the coolness of the water felt like the perfect combination, and soon the playful banter faded into a comfortable silence as you both soaked in the beauty of the moment. Franco’s fingers gently tugged at a lock of your hair, his voice soft.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh, please. You’re not getting all mushy on me now, are you?”

He grinned, pulling you closer, his gaze full of affection. “You’re not letting me get away with anything today, huh?”

“Well, you did challenge me to a race to the water,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I have to keep you in check.”

Franco laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Fair enough.” He paused for a moment, gazing at you with a tender expression. “But seriously, you’ve made everything better since you got here. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you smiled softly. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

The two of you spent the afternoon in the water and on the beach, laughing, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. Franco showed off his stone-skipping skills—though he did “accidentally” pretend to miss one just so you could give it a try.

“Not bad, huh?” Franco said with a wink after you got a few decent skips across the water. “I’ve got some moves.”

“You just wait, I’ll be skipping stones like a pro soon enough,” you said confidently, and Franco grinned.

You continued to trade playful jabs and laughs with each other. It felt like time had slowed down, and you didn’t want it to end. Franco was as playful as he was affectionate, constantly pulling you into small hugs, kissing the top of your head, or whispering jokes in your ear. Every little moment was filled with genuine warmth, making you feel more and more at home.

The heat of the Argentinian sun was burning your skin the same like you arrived hours ago, so Franco suggested another swim. You didn’t hesitate. Without a word, he took your hand and led you back into the ocean, both of you letting the waves carry you along.

The two of you floated in the water, the rhythm of the waves calming, and you both began to laugh over the little things, the world outside the water feeling like a distant memory. Franco’s fingers gently brushed against yours, the touch sending warmth through you even as the cool sea embraced you.

As you swam a little further out, you could see Franco's playful glint return. “Race again?” he teased.

“Not a chance,” you said with a grin, then swam toward him, only for him to pull you into the gentlest of holds, twirling you as you both spun in the sea.

“Maybe not now, but you’ll regret it later,” Franco whispered with a wink.

You laughed, feeling completely at ease as the sea surrounded you both.

Later, as you returned to the beach to rest in the shade, you dug into the bag beside you, pulling out sunscreen. “Time to help out the little boy,” you joked, grinning as you held the bottle in front of Franco.

He raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “You really want to help me out, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m a giver,” you said with a wink, before squirting sunscreen into your hands.

As you rubbed it onto his back, you couldn’t help but notice how natural this felt. His skin was warm under your touch, and his eyes closed as he relaxed into your hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever been pampered quite like this,” he muttered with a lazy smile.

“Good thing I’m here to change that,” you teased, smoothing the lotion down his arms, making sure every inch was covered.

“You know,” Franco said with a grin, “You should consider adding ‘sunscreen expert’ to your resume.”

You rolled your eyes, still laughing as you finished. “You’re lucky you’re cute, or I might not have done it.”

Franco leaned over, his lips brushing your cheek in a soft kiss. “Gracias cariño, I love it when you take care of me.”

Eventually, the two of you relaxed further into the beach towels. Franco sprawled out beside you while you read, the sun warming your skin as the breeze whispered through the palm trees. When your eyelids began to droop, Franco was quick to notice, and without a word, he shifted beside you, propping himself up on his side. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” he said softly. “Want to take a nap?”

You smiled, feeling so content you could easily drift away in his arms. “Just for a little while…”

Franco opened his arms, inviting you to rest your head on his chest. You gladly took the offer, snuggling in close as the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat and the soft ocean waves lulled you to sleep.

After a few hours, you woke to find the sun setting, and the sky was painted in brilliant hues of orange and purple. You both stood, stretching and shaking off the sleepiness as you packed up. Franco grinned, wrapping an arm around you as the two of you walked back to the car.

And as you both headed back, the evening sky above you and the warmth of his hand in yours, it felt like the world was in exactly the right place.

[youunravelme]

reunited

author's note: just a little drabble to make up for my absence. this takes place in the nothing happened in the way i wanted verse about six months after reader and matt get back together (aka stanley cup finals).

summary: you told matt you couldn't make it to the stanley cup finals...and yet here you are

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: cursing? pda?

you heard the disappointment in matt’s voice when you told him you couldn't make it to his playoff games. you'd managed to come to a game vs. the rangers, but when the panthers made it to the finals, it was clear that your schedule might not even allow you a week off. but when you looked at the calendar and saw you had an opening before you summer internship, you immediately booked a flight to miami.

everything was set.

until two days before game seven, the flight was canceled.

“matt, i’m so sorry—”

“baby, it’s fine. you can’t control it.”

“i’m trying to look for flights but they're all full.” you could hear the way he tried to stifle his sigh. but you knew him like the back of your hand, you knew how much this meant to him, how close he came last year. and you wanted to be there. you knew he wanted you to be there.

which is why you took your airplane refund (and a little out of savings) and starting looking at rental cars.

in hindsight, making an eighteen hour trip alone was not the smartest decision you ever made, and it surely wasn't a choice matt would approve of if he knew about it. but maybe he'd be so caught up in the post game that he wouldn't ask how you got there.

when you got into the city, taryn was the one who met you at their hotel. she smiled and gave you a tight hug.

“how was the drive? not too bad i hope?”

you gave her a sheepish smile. “i might need another five hour energy.”

she bumped her shoulder with yours. “i’m sure the game will be hyped enough to wake you up.”

“thank you for waiting for me.”

taryn’s laugh was immediately swallowed up by the sounds of traffic, but you felt it just the same. “matt would kill us if we left you to walk to the arena alone.”

“he doesn't know i’m here, does he?”

she shook her head. “we haven’t said a word. but please believe he's done nothing but mope about it.”

you rolled your eyes. “he doesn’t have time to mope, not when winning the cup is so close.”

and it was.

you couldn't remember a time where you'd screamed as loud as you had. your blood was pumping, heart pounding, you were torn between squeezing your eyes shut from anxiety and keeping them focused on the game. maybe after the game, you'd apologize to taryn for holding her arm so tightly, but she was squeezing yours back just as hard.

you watched as they kept the puck in the corner as the clock ran down. the nail polish you'd painted on your fingernails were in fragmented chips on the floor. your eyes kept darting from the jumbotron to the ice, back and forth back and forth.

but the buzzer went off and your boyfriend hopped onto the ice with his teammates. taryn was pulling you into a threeway hug with brady. before you knew it, you were being shuffled out of your seats, down the stairs, and onto the ice.

you were operating on autopilot, sticking close to taryn and brady. you were in the back, behind his parents and siblings, not really focusing on where you were going, only knowing that taryn’s grip was on your wrist.

people bumped into you, cameras were everywhere, yet your gaze was solely on taryn’s red leather jacket. maybe you should've dressed differently, worn something fancier instead of a jersey and jeans. it was game 7 and your boyfriend just won the stanley cup and you probably looked exhausted and there were going to be pictures that would probably live on the wall of matt’s childhood home for the rest of time.

taryn and brady stopped walking which could only mean that they'd found matt. if you could see over brady´s broad shoulders, you might have been able to see the embrace matt gave his mom, then the massive hug he gave his father. you couldn't hear what was being said, but you a glimpse of a red sleeve hug taryn before brady was next.

matt’s arms went around brady’s shoulders, his head peeking over, when the two of you made eye contact for the first time in weeks. his blue eyes widened in shock before he physically shoved brady off of him and out of the way.

“no way!” matt said over the noise before you were being yanked into his arms, lips pressed against his. it was clumsy and mostly teeth, but who could blame either of you? he’d just won the stanley cup.

you pulled away first with matt still chasing your lips until you placed a hand on his chest. “congrats, baby.”

“what're you doing here? i thought you said you couldn't make it! how’d you even get here?”

you smiled sheepishly. “i drove.”

matt’s smile dropped for a moment as he rolled his eyes. he placed a kiss on your forehead and brought you into your chest. “you're an idiot, but i love you.”

“i love you, stanley cup champion.”

he preened for a moment until he realized you'd successfully navigated the conversation back from yourself. ��don’t think we won't talk about that later, baby.”

as the celebrations continued, regardless of who came up to him, matt’s hands never left your body. maybe it was the high of winning or maybe it was because you hadn't seen him since game five against the rangers but he wouldn't let you out of his sight. you tried to sneak away to stand with his family while he was being interviewed, but he never let you get far enough. at one point, you were standing just far enough to be out of shot of the camera, but close enough to where he was somewhat paying attention to the reporter interviewing him. 

“you sure you don't wanna come with me?” he asked after the last interview.

“matt, i promise she does not wanna go into a locker room with you and your sweaty teammates,” taryn chirped. “i’m sure you can survive without seeing her for a little bit.”

he didn’t look convinced.

“whenever you're finished, i’ll be ready to do whatever you want. i’m here for a week.”

his eyes lit up right before he kissed you again. “fuck yes.”

you laughed and pushed him away. “go celebrate with your teammates, we’ll be ready when you are.”

he glanced over his shoulder at his teammates and then back at you. “i love you.” he started moving backwards but kept his eyes trained solely on you, not a care in the world as to who he was bumping into. “and don't think i’m not gonna say something about you driving eighteen and a half hours.”

he knew the time it took?

“how’d you know how long i drove?”

a familiar smirk graced his lips. “baby, i always know how far you are from me.”

“you’re both sickening,” taryn joked as matt disappeared down the tunnel.

“maybe, but i love him.”

[lilacgaby]

a day in the life with your baby and gojoo

satoru woke up to his daughter tugging on the edge of his shirt. he was laid next to you, you in his arms passed out from the headache that was a toddler, so he slowly crept out of bed to go with her.

they thought they were being sneaky, but the constant shush sounds she made and their loud giggles woke you up right away. you stayed put for a second, but jumped out suddenly, scaring them.

after laughing at their horrified faces and the fact that satoru got into a fighting pose, you all decided on chocolate pancakes for the morning. satoru fed her like an airplane and she would try and do the same back to him, but he was too tall. he bent down to an uncomfortable height just so she could do it back to him (he was sure his back would hurt later).

after eating, your daughter begged and begged to go to the park. you didn't want to, but satoru spoiled her rotten, so he started to beg you too. now you had two losers pulling on you to go out the door. you finally relented, throwing on some going out clothes and shoes, as you walked to the park.

they fought on who would hold your hand until you just grabbed both their hands at once, silencing them. they were calm.. until they made it to the park at least.

there, the two went rabid. you pretended like you didn't know either of them as satoru ran through the slides and top of the park, as he swung to crazy heights and jumped, falling onto his stomach making your daughter burst into giggles. they camped at the top of the playground, eating snacks that they had sneaked when you weren't watching. satoru even letting her have a bit of candy, which you wouldn't approve of before dinner.

you were having fun just watching, until the two walked up with mischievous looks in their eyes. you were about to question them, as satoru suddenly picked you up, with your daughter cheering him on. he put you on his lap as you slid down the slide, your daughter crashing into you from behind.

you glared at them jokingly, before it was time for you to head back home. as you cooked dinner, your daughter's eyes started to droop closed. satoru carried her to bed, it was already eight? he read her a book as she smiled, holding his hand as she drifted off to bed.

satoru and you ate in the living room, cuddled close as you pigged out, exhausted by the day you had.

you were ready to go to bed when you felt satoru lay his head on your shoulder. he was passed out too. you sighed and shut off the tv, falling asleep next to him.

when you woke up, your daughter was sandwiched between the two of you, fast asleep. you smiled as your heart felt warm from the love you had for your two idiots.

[sweetsuburbanlegends]

The Jet - Somewhere Over Tennessee

Summary: You and Hotch are the only ones still awake on the flight home.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: put the self in self-insert, descriptions of canon-typical violence, anxiety

A/N: Part of this universe, but each scene can stand on its own.

The wind hissed as the jet cut through the air. The cabin was quiet, save for a deep breath or the unconscious rustling of movement as someone got more comfortable, the leather seat creaking. 

Everyone was asleep, and though you’d tried earlier, leaning back, eyes closed, your nerves were still too highly strung for it. You’d become acutely tuned into the noise that accompanied moving so fast and so high up in the atmosphere so that you felt it shaking your eardrums. 

Instead, you push up the window cover and look out at the steady flashing light on the wing. It’s too dark outside to see anything. You’ll be arriving home close to dawn, might catch the early morning joggers just starting on their trail. 

You think back to the many plane trips you took when you were little, how hard it was for you to settle down enough to rest just a little, spending hours with your books and colouring sheets as your parents slept on each side of you, eye masks on to shield them from the overhead light you kept on. In those moments, you felt like the only person in the world. 

Sometimes, once you got older, you’d worry that it wouldn’t change, that nobody would wake up and this big thing in the sky would keep going until it dropped dead. 

Looking back on it now, it all felt ridiculous. If not anyone else, at least one pilot had to be awake. You wonder why the thought never occurred to you, and even if it had, if you would have found any comfort in it. 

Now, you rely often on sleeping pills, prescribed to you during your third year at Violent Crimes. The journeys you’ve made so far with the team haven’t been so late, and you try to avoid the raised eyebrows that would surely accompany the rattling of a prescription bottle. 

You lean your temple against the cool glass, the faint hum of the engines threading through your bones. The air is stale, thick with the scent of coffee and something faintly metallic, the way airplane air always is. Sleep tugs at the edges of your mind, but it never quite settles, fingers hovering right above your eyelids. The exhaustion is there, weighty and insistent, but stubbornly, your body pushes back against it. 

The curtain is pulled away, rippling. Aaron steps out, standing at the head of the jet as he surveys the cabin. Tucked away in the corner, sitting in the dark, you hope he doesn’t notice you and finds himself a spot to lay down, but his eyes land on you and you resign yourself to your fate. 

Walking over, he turns on the light above and sits across from you. 

“You should be asleep.” 

Biting the apology that leaps up, you only shrug and look out the window. The shining red light on the wing is considerably duller now, an impression of its original intensity. 

There’s a soft thud that draws your attention away. Aaron’s placed a small container on the table in between you. 

An Éclair Affair. 

“I-” you stammer, frown forming as the memories of the frozen foods aisle rush back to you. You’d only been guessing, body and mind too tired for anything more deliberate. “I didn’t think you-” 

The corner of his mouth curls up pleasantly, “There’s a reason I approved your transfer, Agent.” He rips open the casing around the lid and takes it off. Reaching over, he places a spoon in front of you, and picks up one for himself. 

You watch, intrigued as he curls his spoon around the top of the ice cream, and brings it to his mouth. The crippling self-doubt from your earlier weeks on the team had started to fade. Your footing was steadier now. 

Hesitating only for a breath, you take your own and have a taste. The flavour takes you by surprise, flaky pastry and a subtler vanilla than what you usually expected from Ben & Jerry’s. The ice cream is melting around the edges, and you have another spoonful. A bit of chocolate falls under your teeth, cooled from the freezer and crumbling in your mouth. 

“You did well today.” 

It hadn’t been a particularly difficult case, the sleeping team around you was testament to that. Instead, you’d grown a fond appreciation for what things looked like if they went well and correct, the sheer force of nature that was the BAU. Still, despite your slow slotting into their intricate dynamics, you say a little defensively, “That wasn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at my head, Hotch.” 

Aaron’s eyes flick to yours, dark but not unkind, “This was different.” 

Sighing, you hold your next spoonful on your tongue till it melts completely before you swallow. “I’ve seen worse working in Violent Crimes-” 

“Violent Crimes doesn’t prepare you for that.” 

Chaos. No rhyme or reason except for the one known to the unsub. It’s not hard to remember his arm around your shoulders, pressing your back to him as he pushed the muzzle of his gun on your temple. 

“I’ve handled unpredictability before.” 

“Not like that,” he repeats simply. 

Aggravatingly, you knew he was right. What you’d seen before on your old unit assignments had been brutal, but impersonal. The violence was never directed at you, you were only in the way of it. 

Profiling an unsub, over hours or days, led to a certain intimacy that both sides were aware of, an intimacy that could be leveraged against the team. It was never enough to stop the harm, it was most important to understand it. Most of the time, actually, the unsubs encountered weren’t that violent either. 

You knew he’d only grabbed you because you were closest. That anybody else would have been fair game. But there was a desperation in the brief glance you got at his eyes, a twisted hope of maybe being understood. 

Looking down at your hands, you sigh, wringing them together, “He caught me off guard.” 

A few weeks ago you wouldn’t have dreamed of revealing yourself like this to him. Willingly admit your vulnerability, your failure, only give reason in his hands to take you off the team. 

You know better now, that he would have realized it regardless, that you could play pretend at being fine all you wanted, but at the end of the day, you’d be the only one who would suffer from it. 

Following the curve of the spoon with your thumb, you press down insistently, wishing the blunt edge was sharper, wishing you had the strength to make it cut. “I…It’s not going away.” You press your fingers against your temples, there’s some leftover oil on your skin and you try to wipe it away, shivering. The memories plague you, every time you close your eyes, “I should have been faster.” 

It’s not fear, as much as it’s frustration. 

He tsks and you look up, frightened you’ve stepped out of line, “You did everything right.” Tilting his head to the side, he surveys you up and down. You’re about to speak, to protest, when he cuts you off, “You were just the first there.” 

Aaron had been the one to take the shot, a bullseye between the unsub’s eyebrows when, for a brief moment, his grip on you had loosened and you’d moved yourself out of the line of fire. His blood had splattered, hot, against your face. 

Aaron shifts, and he tilts his chin down, shadowing his eyes away from you, trying to gain a distance so he can get closer to you with his words without making you too uncomfortable. You wonder how soon everyone will realize that there was a certain flightiness inherent in your personality, that it wasn’t just nerves that made you this way. 

“You think I should be more shaken up,” you say finally. Failure knolls out in the pit of your chest, vibrating through your veins. 

“I think you are enough,” he set down his spoon. The words hang in front of you, lighter than the air. “There’s no right way to handle this.” 

The sweetness of the ice cream turns sour and you wish for a glass of water instead. 

The worry that’s been pressing against your ribs finally makes it out of your throat, “What if I don’t get over it?” 

Lifting his head, his eyes become clear again and they land on yours, never faltering, “No one does.” He gestures to the people around the jet, “You only move forward, use it to make yourself a better agent.” 

You mull the words around in your head. Their meaning is slippery, though on first glance they’re a walking cliche, like trying to keep water cupped in your hands. 

It’s hard to press forward, to take Aaron’s confidence as your own. Not like this. The words echo in your mind incessantly, plague you with more worries than you’d like to have. 

“I don’t want this to change me,” you say finally, feeling foolish. In the shelter of the early morning, the deep sighs around the jet, it’s easier to talk. 

To your ears, you sound like a petulant child, but you find none of that reflected in Aaron’s face, “It already has.” The harsh truth of it makes you flinch, a byproduct of the day’s events, and he exhales softly, “That doesn’t mean you won’t recognize yourself at the end of it though.” 

“How do you know for sure?” 

You watch him as the words settle, watch the rise and fall of his throat before he says in a gentler tone, “Because I’ve had to believe it myself.” 

The line of his mouth has turned firm, shoulders tensing up. Clearing your throat, you break your gaze and look around, trying to loosen the tight air around you to keep from drowning in it. 

“You know,” you say, studying the half-melted ice cream in front of you, bits and pieces of cake and chocolate floating up. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an éclair before.” 

A beat or two passes, there’s a lacing of gratitude in his voice when he speaks up, “The pastry or the ice cream?” His eyes fall to the container in front of you and he takes another spoonful. 

“Both. I just stuck to the classics, cookie dough, vanilla,” you shrug, watching the condensation drip onto the table. “I always felt Ben & Jerry’s was too sweet, just…trying too hard to be fun,” you gesture vaguely with your hand, gaze falling to the label on the container. 

Aaron lets out a soft breath, his mouth twitching up, “That’s one way to put it.” An odd sense of pride fills your chest at making him laugh, even if an untrained eye would disagree. He lets the silence settle, not in a rush to break it. 

There seems to be an almost imperceptible shift in his posture, a slow loosening as he melts into the chair. “Haley’s the one with the sweet tooth,” he says. When you look up at him, the softening in his tone is reflected in his face, particularly his eyes, gentle and dark. 

The shift from Agent to husband is so apparent it makes your heart hurt. “It only got worse when she was pregnant.” He seems to not be looking at you, but past you, at a third person he can only see, a person from times gone by. It stings being left out of it. “One time,” he chuckles quietly, gaze falling to his hands. “One time, I drove about an hour, each way, to a diner to get a slice of banoffee pie, only for her to barely eat half of it.” 

The image of Aaron, tie-loosened, bleary-eyed and tired, radio droning on in the background, not loud enough to be properly heard, lodges down in the back of your throat, tugs at the strings of your lungs. Your mountain of a Unit Chief, unflinching with a gun pointed at his head, going out of his way for a piece of pie. The things love makes us do and all that. 

It’s so human, so achingly normal, it scares you a bit. Making you wonder when this infallible mask will crack, and who will be leftover to pick up the pieces. Selfishly, you worry about yourself, about the team. What they will do when Aaron falls, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable Hotch, and one eventually has to give way. 

Your eyes soften at the story he’s polished off and handed to you, the dark, the sleep deprivation, the jet, making the both of you more open than you normally are. 

“Anyways,” he says with a deep sigh, something close to grief crawling behind his eyes. “Those days are over now.” 

Swallowing, you venture forward, foot hesitantly placed forward, ready to flee should this be a miscalculation, “How is Haley?” He tilts his head at that, and you’re about to apologize before you push it down, clarify for him, “Being postpartum is hard.” 

You don’t know if you would have had it in you, left alone with an infant, body still shuddering through recovery. Though you’ve only seen Haley once, in passing, with Jack in her arms, it wasn’t hard to know who was the stronger woman. 

His eyes stay trained on you, their presence on your skin unmistakable. It seems you truly have taken it a step too far, confusing what was actually supposed to be a fatherly gesture into something like friendship. 

Yet his voice, when he does speak, is affectionate, home-sick, not truly aimed at you, “She’s alright. Her mother is helping her out a lot.” There’s something weary in his face as he says it, something unsure, the shaky legs of a new-born fawn. He sighs again, breath washing over the table like the ocean, “Some days are better than others.” 

It feels like your inadequacy, your inexperience is singled out. You’re almost mad at yourself, for poking your nose where it both didn’t belong and had nothing of value to say, nothing to be able to help Aaron, his new family standing behind him like a shadow. 

The jet continues to hum, oblivious to your inner turmoil. Someone shifts again, releases a heavy breath. 

Aaron places the lid back on the half-melted ice cream, gathers the spoons, “You should try to sleep.” 

You expect it to be dismal, a subtle disappointment and reassignment to your subordination. Yet, when you finally can see his eyes again, lit through, there’s no sharpness, no sign of the Unit Chief. Hotchner the Relentless. There’s only kindness, and concern, a man willing to drive two hours for dessert looking back down at you. 

“I’ll try,” you murmur finally. 

Reaching up, he turns off your light. 

You don’t watch him walk away, instead turning to find the comfort of the red light again, as it blinks back at you reassuringly. 

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly.

[sramoonlight]

Mask off

What if the batfamily had their own spider?

Content you’ll see here: Batfam, neutral!reader, subtle crossover, weird romcom.

English it’s not my first language so please be patient!

New York City was an important thing for you, of course it was your mother city and also the place that you feel more secure, let’s not talk about the rat problem or the homeless people, let’s just vibe out with it.

You and your mother weren’t people of money, your mother works on a known company, Alchemax, it’s not good paid but enough to let you survive with just a halftime job

You could ask your father for some money but… you don’t know who he is! You just know he is a rich playboy back in Gotham, anyways, neither you or your mother would ask anything from him, it’s not the way you do things

Oh! A surprise note, you’re a spidey, well not just a THE! There’s no one else like you out there, well the meta humans but they’re at cities that you don’t care much about, maybe a little but the only important thing is that they don’t make your job hard.

Speaking of which, you’re doing a great job as a hero beating the shit out of a non important villain, geez they want to ruin your dinner with your mother

Good that you just kicked their face and now they’re out

— Thank god! Okay, let’s do this quick, shall we? — you shot your webs wrapping them around their body, with an approval hum you used one web to take your backpack — Tell the cops that your friendly friend spidey did this —

You ran out of there trying to be as quickly as you can, if you aren’t quick you’ll miss the fancy dinner your mother worked for.

Swinging like you always do, you arrived at a near alley taking off your suit as you pulled out formal clothes doing your best to put them on and take off the suit without flashing anyone, not that there where someone but still

2 minutes before the curfew you entered the restaurant, fixing your hair as you sat down in front of your mother, like a clock a waitress puts a plate of food in front of you, how luxury was this place?

— You made it on time — She said with a serious expression as she started cutting her steak, you did the same — I’m getting better at this — with a chuckle you started chewing the food.

A trivial conversation started, your mom talking about some issues at work as you tell her your issues being a Spidey, after a seconds she looked at you, the smile on her face disappearing

— Love, I have something to tell you — Here it goes, you prepared yourself fixing your posture — give me your shot — You smiled at her

She took a deep breath, her face turning dark

— I need you to go to your father’s — and it felt like your life was falling apart, moving from New York? That was your city! You can’t just abandon it like nothing! — Before you say anything, I know you have responsibilities but so do I, and.. I don’t want to neglect you —

You kept your thoughts, your mother wouldn’t ask you this if she didn’t have to and that felt horrible, you nodded accepting her words.

— Good, you’ll leave this weekend — this is going to suck.

Saturday morning, you were placing your things at the back of the taxi, it felt so wrong to leave but you can’t deny that it’s for the best.

Your mother looked at you, her have filled with regret but determination, she won’t ask you to stay and that makes you sick because you know that she’ll need to this.

— I need you to be safe there, Gotham isn’t like New York — she said as long as you turned to see her, you nodded walking to her and she kissed your forehead — I will mom—

Now on the car you think, you are leaving New York with no one to care care of them, the anxiety is on your stomach as you try to think that no one would do something

Dr. Octavia is in jail, the green gobbling too and many of them are too, maybe little criminals but you want to think the cops would do their job or at least you want that.

The taxi dropped you at the airport and you took the airplane, by the night you’re now waiting for one of your father’s employees to take you out, with a sigh you type a text to your mother

“Mom, I’m at Gotham”

No response.

— Are you miss (last time)? — an old man ask you and you turned to see him, with a nod you walked to the limousine.

An awkward silence filled the car as you tried to think of something else, you do know your father has another 4 children and you can’t but think they’re going to be bratty as hell.

You took a glimpse of the streets, they’re even more nasty than New York’s

— Im Alfred Pennyworth, by the way, I know you may be curious about your new home but don’t worry, Wayne family will treat you nice — the way he talked about it made you shiver

It felt weirdly wrong to not be able to tell, your spider sense won’t tell you about social damage and that pisses you off.

A few more minutes passed and you were already at the manor, for the last time you checked your clothes leaving the limousine

You don’t know why did they send you this when it was only you, you sighed again following the butler to the living room

— You must be (reader) — a man, you recognized him as Bruce Wayne greeted you with a smile and you analyzed his looks

That… didnt looked like poor Brucie, he shakes your hand, before you could pull away he pulls you but to hug you

— Im so happy to know you — another shiver, this man doesn’t know about consent.

He gives you a tour that you can’t remember now, anyways, you’ll be there only for a weeks and you’ll be back at New York, right?

— You’ll be attending the same school as my youngest, Damian — he said smiling at you, you had to lay your head showing your confusion for him to notice

— Oh, you don’t know your brothers.. we’ll have a dinner tonight for you to meet them —

He pats your shoulder leaving you there, you looked around assuming that this is your room, much bigger than the one you have on New York but that can work, you didnt notice when your bags were there

That butler sure is good, you think before sending your mom a text

“Im at my father’s”

Maybe she’s still at work you think, yeah, that’s it

You smiled scrolling through your phone, your friends asking you if you arrived safely, you’re going to miss them but you remind yourself that you’ll be there in a couple of weeks.

…

How many hours passed? You looked at the battery on your phone.. 27%

Before you could do anything, there’s a knock on the door

— Miss (Reader), dinner is ready — you made a sound making sure he knew you heard him before getting up

You sighed, how many times did you do it? You left your room following your intuition and magically it did lead you to the dining room, there, around four people were sitting there making you feel nervous

Where could you sit? You looked for an empty place but Alfred makes his way in front of a chair pulling it out of you, you thank him before sitting down.

— (Reader) let me introduce you to Dick, my oldest — you looked at the man who smiled making you smile at him, he looks like a good guy — Tim and this little tanned boy is Damian — you followed his gaze trying to memorize the faces

Well, they’re quite different so it would be easy

Wait, didnt Bruce Wayne have a fourth child? Weird, maybe you did your research wrong, anyways.

The dinner was silence, you were but everyone keeps talking to each other about things that you don’t know but you don’t plan to guess either

— You don’t look like father — The tanned guy, you assume it was Damian, say that looking at you with a completely blank face, you had to look at Bruce Wayne to notice that indeed, you don’t look anything like him — How do we know you’re his kid? —

Ouch, you can’t blame him, he’s a person of money of course you have to pay attention to details just to about scams, but you had to thought

You’re sure exactly like your mother, like, same hair and eyes maybe yours it’s a different hair type but that doesn’t matter

You sighed, there’s nothing you can use to prove that you’re nothing but a kid sent to take care of, something you sure hate

— Im sure my mom did a DNA test, Mr. Wayne sure has it — you said chewing your meat, you can hear a cough

— You can just call me dad — this person, Bruce Wayne looks like a person yearning for being part of you life and you can’t but think that he is like this because of what he suffered as a kid

Someone seeking for attention, nothing like you actually.

— It’s okay Mr. Wayne — You refused to give this man what he wanted, instead smiling as a way to shut his words, he looked hurt and you can’t blame him not when your words sounded harsh — Im just here until my mom feels is good for me to go back home —

But instead of receiving an answer you heard nothing, you raised an eyebrow but before you could say anything

— Im sure hungry for dessert! Aren’t you, little bird? — you waited for the person Dick mentioned to reply, nothing, you realized he was talking to you

— Me? Uhm, I don’t actually eat dessert — you mentioned new to this short chat, you sure did when you had the moment to eat a fancy dinner, this sure wasn’t but whatever

— Really? Well, you have to get used to it — you still don’t understand the rich people and their actions.

The way to the school was silent, sure Damian is younger than you but only by a few years so you still had to be with him at school, speaking of which

This is nothing like the public school you used to go to, you’re sure that this place isn’t something fancy because they’re various type of students, not just the typical white students from an American comedy.

Walking through the halls as you wrote the steps you just did in your head to not forget them on your first day, sure it is a huge school but your intuition may help right.

You opened the door of the classroom making your way to an empty seat, the class didnt last long ‘til it started, you didn’t hear much of what the teacher she was saying until she started passing list

— (Reader) Wayne? — you made a confuse expression

— Here, and it’s (Last name) not Wayne — you said not wanting to be disrespectful but the idea of being placed as a rich person made you feel sick.

The teacher looked at the papers on her hands humming

— It says that you’re a Wayne, im sorry — so it wasn’t a thing she said because she knew who your father was

So weird.. maybe they did this so you won’t need of your mother, anyways, you’ll be here only for a couple of days.

The class continued like it should, the others did too so you found yourself on your way home sitting beside Damian who was scrolling through her phone

— Uhm, Mr. Pennyworth — you called

— You can call me only Alfred, miss — that sent a shiver through your back, you couldn’t

— Yeah, uh, it looks like I’m not being called by my last name on the school system —

The man stays silence before he chuckled, you assumed that it was of how weird it sounds, but you guess he would have it cover

— You’re a Wayne — Damian said, rising his gaze from his phone, you had to whisper a low “excuse me?” For him to show you something

And for second time in this week, you felt your heart going down

Alchemax, the place were your mother work exploded in an accident just the night before, how could you? Wait

The looks everyone gave you at the dinner, did they already know? But how could your mother know that it was going to happen?

Why? Why?

But the way back was silent.

[ficsiwontwrite]

!!! System! Shen Yuan AU !!!

Airplane wasn’t changing things, and no matter what tasks the system tried to put forward the only difference in the world was that the An Ding Peak Lord was more stressed and overworked

So a new variable was needed, and since the system tasks have been completed perfectly chances are the problem is in the system… so the solution is to shove the work to someone sentient who would be invested into changing the story!!

So yeah airplane gets a notification that the system is being upgraded and suddenly his terrible system has a personality

System Shen yuan would consume (?)all the information the original system had and before going online would have created an entire tasks tab that include daily/weekly/monthly/yearly/unlimites tasks plus main tasks and as soon as he was online he would great airplane with a passive aggressive message and send him to work

Shen yuan would be much more generous with points but he hates the shop system, the dumb things that can be bought there will them have descriptions like “this scenario pusher will make clothes tear like in a bad horny donghua” being 100% ready to turn it into sqh himself if he dared to be a scum and use it on some unsuspecting woman

The first time sqh failed a s!sy task he was full of dread, punishments are very trauma inducing after all, but them the worst punishment sy can bare to deal is making him 1st pov some of binghe’s more tame suffering, like hunger, bullying and the tea spill first meeting… which could have been bad if the senses and feelings where in sync but it was all toned down to zero… SQH them understands the new system as some kind of softie tsundere lmao

S!sy would feel bad about the harsh punishment and send some easy task with a high reward the next day….. “there needs to be a carrot, not only a stick!” (I do love me a dumbass shen yuan)

They of course would banter and end up caring about each other, everytime sqh says/does something sy thinks is stupid he’ll give tasks like “read 10 books about x and write a 10k words essay about x” or when he is tossed around in a mission or by mbj he’s send missions for Jim’s to get stronger…

By the second month there’ll be missions like “eat 3 times a day”, unfortunately for shen yuan sqh already trusts him and feels safe enough to bend the tasks, so not only he will half-ass boring tasks to get the hide of y magical beast and making a coat (sending liu qingge to do it, mostly) which sy approves for being smart BUT he would also eat like melon seeds instead of stopping to eat full meals

Shang Qinghua will end up having to scroll detailed 1k worded self-care tasks…

This au would be focused mostly in cumplane dynamics yes but I thinks it would be really hilarious if sy started to make sqh do tasks that would take him close to xxx because sy wants to see them (choose the SQH x SY x ??? of your preference)

Of course s!sy would be making his mental gymnastics and justifying his tasks as totally no homo “wdym i want to look to lqg’s pretty face? I just want you to be strong enough not to dumbly die!” “Yes you do have to ask for a book on monsters from Shen Qingqiu himself, he’s so greedy he must have hidden away the best one” “you get hurt so frequently, you simply must go to Mu Qingfan and get personal classes on first aid” “No, you can not send a disciple with a mensage to Yue Qingyuan, it’s important to communicate face to face with your sect leader in such matters” etc etc

[fluffeebunzzz]

Love and Deepspace ✨️

The LI's being parents - Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Sylus and Caleb

Self insert x Reader

Warnings - none, Fluff, slight angst with Caleb if you squint on the song.

🌟 Xavier: I think would be a boy dad, I can totally see him with your son passed out on his shoulder. Taking after his dad with his excessive amount of sleep bordering on concerning. His soft little sighs as his little hands hold onto Xavier's shirt while his Dad just plops himself down onto the floor inbetween your legs. Leaning his back against the couch and leaning his head back to look at you from his position. "Requesting head rubs for me and our little star?" Who are you to deny the both of them? You have two hands, after all.

🐟 Rafayel: Rafayel is a girl dad through and through. He would be the type to spoil the hell out of your daughter and when she develops his over dramatic antics he's regularly requesting back up from you.

It all started when Thomas gifted her an artist Barbie for her birthday and since then your daughters been trying to paint everything she could get her hands on. It also didn't help that the paint she procured was from Rafayels reject bin, a mass of shades and paints that didn't pass his quality test. "No sweet pea, you can't use that shade of green, its bad. It would clash, here let me get you-", "You're bad Papa!" She would shout back at him in a childish outburst that only a toddler could do so confidently. Confidently enough that it would leave Rafayel flabbergasted while he watches her proceed to paint her Barbie car that horrible seafoam green he hated while he yells for you to come help him.

"Y/N, OUR SWEET PEAS BEEN POSSESSED."

⛄️ Zayne: Whole heartedly believe he would be a girl dad, no question about it. I can see him reading her bedtime stories and being the one to provide emergency surgeries to her stuffed animals. "Mr.Stuffins hurt his paw again? Where'd he get hurt this time snowflake?" Through fat tears holding Mr.Stuffins disembodied limb your daughter would bable back, "H-he got caught on t-the slide when I went down and I hurt him." Smiling softly he'd wipe her tears away and pat her head gently before taking the limb from her hands. "It's okay sweetheart, Papa's going to fix him right up. Do you want to help hold him steady?" Letting her know it's okay and so she can get closure on accidently hurting her stuffie.

🐦‍⬛ Sylus: Sylus I can see as having two daughters with you. You're currently pregnant with your second while sitting on the couch next to Sylus. All the while your 3 year old is digging through your hair supplies, determined to make her dad pretty. Grabbing handfuls of butterfly clips and star clips to press in, she's creating sporadic patches of hair that sticks up in small pigtails. Her hands clap together in joy as her work comes together while Sylus is gently teasing her - "Be careful, little bird. You're going to make your dad go bald." Giggles erupting from her as she grabs another clip with red gems surrounding it, reaching her small hand out to his for his approval before he laughs and gives the go ahead. (Do you or do you not feel Bonita Sylus?)

🍎 Caleb: Caleb would 100% be a dad to twins, 1 boy and 1 girl. He was absolutely ecstatic when you told him, clearing off his schedule for the next two weeks leaving Liam to handle things unless under dire means. He's immediately taking you to pick out nursery supplies, making the spareroom in Skyhaven into their nursery and getting giddy over baby clothes with you. He's already plotting out decorative themes, airplanes, ships, apples, sunflowers, you name it. His favorite nursery find in particular was the windchimes he found while picking up formula that you could program to play certain songs - his go to song for it was "You are my Sunshine".

He also knew that the pregnancy was going to take it's toll on you just due to the nature of it being twins and thus after giving birth to your twins he purchased a twin holster. That way he could keep the two strapped to his chest while they slept against him while he cooked dinner for the both of you. Your son was starting to get fussy when Caleb crouched down to grab a pot to start his soup base in as he rubs a soothing hand against his back bouncing himself on one heel as he stands. "Shhh, its okay peanut I got you. Mama's resting, are ya hungry?" He'd offer, reaching into the fridge and moving to heat up some of the milk stored for your babies. Swiftly popping a warm bottle into your sons mouth, while checking on your daughter who's still out cold on his chest. Listening to the quiet content sighs your son was making while drinking Caleb starts humming a soft nonsensical tune to himself, or should I say it's only nonsensical if you havent heard the song that would play on the windchimes in their nursery. Caleb continues cooking for you and your family. He's forever grateful to you for being back in his life and for gifting him his sunflower babies.

[bogleech]

TOP TEN DINOSAURUSES

maybe you're wondering my most tenned favorite dinosauruses??? The science study of dinasacacers is called "dinosaurusology" by leading experts like myself, and it is constantly changing as we make new uncoveries almost every tuesday when we find new bones in my cousin rob's garage (he hasn't thrown anything out since the 90's!) As such bear in mind that up to two facts I am about to share could become dated over the course of the next century, however as both the king and queen of science this will only be true if I'm still available to approve the new facts. If I'm dead or kind of tired then nobody will ever know what's true anymore so you should be nice to me. #10: OVIRAPTOR

OVIRAPTOR was a good model for what all dinosacans were like: it was a wrinkly lizard that slithered in filthy dirt and had difficulty standing upright because its bones were made of rocks. This is why we have the term "the stone age," so be grateful you're living in "the bone age!" Oviraptor's name means "eggs velociraptor" because it was a kind of velociraptor that stole eggs. It didn't know what to do with them because nobody invented cooking yet and raw dinosaur eggs were disgusting, so every oviraptor starved to death.

#9: IGUANADON

This was the last known photograph of IGUANA DON (not to be confused with his cousin iguana dan) when george washington invented photographs 2 million years ago. Don was an ugly disgusting hilarious lizard monster with one horn on its nose and he died because he evolved a dining room in his torso exactly the right size for 21 cavemen to walk in and eat his kidneys. This was not helped by don's instinct to sleep on a big porch under a chandelier.

#9 DIMETRODON

DIMETRODON was the most common dinosaur of jurassic, which was the fifth and final era of dinosaurs after the ice age but before the ediacaran. In fact dimetrodon was the very last dinosaur to ever exist on earth before they were all eaten to death by the ediacaran's dominant predator: a species of swirly looking weird rock. Nobody knows why these swirly looking weird rocks died out, but it's most likely because dimetrodon was so poisonous from its diet of entirely pufferfish. You can tell it was a sea dinosaur because of its fish fin! #8: PTERADACTYL

PTERODACTYL was a regular dinosaur until it got married to a species of bat and its bat wife laid a bunch of pterodactyl eggs! This woodcut is however inaccurate: flying would not be invented until president obama discovered the first airplane in 1998, so pterodactyl couldn't possibly have stayed in the air and just immediately fell. The long 900 million year reign of the pterodactyl abruptly ended when the last one finally hit the ground (it took longer in those days because the oxygen disaster made so much more air) #7 SNORKASAURUS

SNORKASAURUS was completely unique among all dinocaurs by having a really long neck. It was one of the largest creatures to ever roam the earth at over 7 feet tall, or exactly 12 meters to those of you living in Liberia or Myanmar! This is the last known photograph of snorkasaurus, giving birth to the first cavemen. Snorkasaurus went extinct because all of them did this instead of making baby snorkasauruses. This is because like all dinosaurii they had only a tiny peanut for a brain, and nobody was around to give them 'the talk' because that wasn't invented yet.

#6 SMILODON

SMILODON was a very special dinosaurn because it was the first one to stand up on its hind legs after years of rigorous exercise and weight training. By inventing this new way of walking, Smilodon made it possible for the first monkeys to evolve! This is called "convergent" evolution.

#5 BULBASAUR

BULBASAUR was a majestic and beautiful species of neopet unfortunately disliked by the scientific community because it is the reason there are no flying dinosuars. Bulbasaur was the first ever flying dyanasar ever invented, 19 billion years ago on September 10, 2001, but the project was discontinued when its first test flight ended in a tragic accident. That's right: on September 11, 2001, Bulbasaur crashed into the stock market, causing the great depression that lead to the civil war :'( now to this very day, flying dinosarers are against the law.

#4 YOSHI

YOSHI is a type of dinersaulophus called a "bird," which was actually the second attempt by early neanderthal alchemists to manufacture a street legal flying dinnersauran, but the New Zealand government realized if dinophlofbuses can fly, then bats would no longer be special, and since bats are New Zealand's only major export it would have been an economic disaster. The queen of Australia (New Zealand's largest city) ordered the CIA to sand all of the wings off of these early prototype birds. Every bird tragically went extinct when it looked down, noticed how high up it was and remembered it could not fly, activating the effects of Earth's gravitational field.

#3 ANOMALOCARIS

ANOMALOCARIS was the dinosorcerous that discovered the first primitive cave painting of a modern day crab and invented carcinisation. All the other dinanders laughed at Anomalocaris for wanting to turn into a crab, but guess what??? Every single kind of dinosaur is dead but there's a crab still alive at 29, making it the oldest person in the world. Who's FUCKING laughing now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#2 EARL SINCLAIR

This is the last known photograph of Earl Sinclair, seen here as an uncredited extra in "Avatar 3: Lost in New York." Earl Sinclair was a sindonaur species that could disguise itself as a human by putting on sunglasses, a necessary adaptation in order to hide from the largest predator dancasore to ever live: Mellisuga helenae. However, near the end of the coal age, M. Helenae finally remembered that sunglasses hadn't even been invented yet. Look carefully, and you'll notice nobody is wearing sunglasses at all in this scene, making Earl Sinclair stick out like a sore thumb! If you're still having difficulty, here's a zoomed in image of this majestic thunder lizard:

Unfortunately......this wardrobe malfunction made Mr. Sinclair just as obvious to his ancient enemy, and the last Earl Sinclair's brains were sucked out on September 11, 2001, the darkest day in British history because he was the only one who knew the recipe to chicken mcnuggets (the only british food.) To this day all british people are extinct but you can still see their fossilized skeletons waiting in line at the department of motor vehicles.

#1 CONCAVENATOR

Concavenator was an Early Cretaceous carcharodontosaurid up to six meters in length with an unusual pointed crest on its back.

[sunderwight]

Imagine how much Shen Yuan and Airplane would hate it if an actual PIDW fan transmigrated in too, though.

Like, one of the guys who genuinely loved the stallion novel harem-building aspects, the weird-yet-vanilla het sex, the willingness to throw the plot out of the door just to have yet another interchangeable woman throw herself at the hero. Someone who only ever had nice things to say in the comment section, who unironically referred to Airplane as a master storyteller, who bought some of the VIP chapters (if he liked the wife Bingge was destined to wed & bed), couldn't name any of the monsters or sex flowers or most of the male side characters, had a Xin Mo keychain and once commissioned fan art of Sha Hualing (favorite wife) looking sexy in a pin-up pose, and told Peerless Cucumber he was a weirdo who took things too seriously on more than one occasion.

I think he'd bother Airplane the most. Shen Yuan would be annoyed and tell him his taste was in his ass, but that's about it.

But Airplane? I think at first he'd be inclined to enjoy having an uncomplicated "fan" of his work turn up. This guy actually praises him! He has nothing but flattering things to say! It's like a dream come true! Except... well, Airplane himself is perfectly aware of the decisions he made in his writing and why (he sold out deliberately, not because he thought it would actually make for a better story -- say what you will about whether or not it's worth it, but the man knows what he's doing), and also I suspect kind of resents his own popular audience whenever he has to interact with them for more than minute.

After all, these were the patrons he had to appease and appeal to, the readers he had to worry about offending or alienating, the ones who were paying the bills but also would have vanished at the drop of a hat if he hadn't given them a steady supply of what they wanted. It's not the audience he actually desired, it's the one he decided not to offend in order to maximize profitability. Peerless Cucumber might be a pain in the ass, but he's a pain in the ass who picked up on the story that Airplane himself originally intended to tell, and wanted PIDW to actually be that. Which has gotta be kind of gratifying, in a roundabout way.

I think it would stress Airplane out to have someone approve of the things he himself didn't even approve of. Like on the one hand this guy seems to have only a good opinion of him, but on the other hand it's based entirely on a false impression and Airplane actually agrees way more with Cucumber's assessment of his writing, because he wrote it badly on purpose. Since the guy has a good opinion, that's something Airplane can potentially lose, and he'd be most likely to lose it by revealing the truth about his own creative intentions and his actual tastes and inclinations. A ticking time bomb of disapproval that could go off at any moment to who-knows-what effect.

He'd hate it. Eventually every time User No.3 came around he'd just be like:

[ID: A gif of Skeletor from Masters of the Universe gliding through a blue magical barrier and then reaching back to punch and shatter it. End ID]

[filialdisciple]

once again thinking about sqq unintenionally becoming a harem master in the eyes of can qiong and civilians.

it starts off with him saving one of binghe's future wives because ! she was one of the more interesting wives !! with powers that ariplane retconned in later chapters for no reason !!!!!!

"What a sweet girl," Shen Qingqiu murmurs as he opened the thank you package delivered to him because she wanted to thank the immortal master for saving her from a beast that in PIDW had traumatized her into becoming a recluse.

Shen Qingqiu hums as he touches the new hand-painted fan. Sweat begins beading on his neck at the murderous glare his white lotus Binghe was directing at the object in his hands.

This master is sorry, Binghe, but this fan is too precious to throw!

Shen Qingqiu clears his throat, "It would be good if she sends more gifts," to her future husband Binghe, of course.

That way, his sweet bun realizes that this was nothing more but a gift to her father-in-law. Aiya, why is the glare even worse?

a week later, sqq saves another wife by complete coincidence on a trip down to the village. she insists on joining him back to cang qiong and sqq gives in because of how persistent she was.

binghe breaks the plate of snacks he was holding when he bumps into them.

sqq: oh shit binghe's jealous. quick gotta send her his way and make them spend more time together

and then the lady just asks him about sqq and whether he's married single looking for someone.

and it keeps happening. sqq isn't sure either why he's meeting all these future wives. maybe the system wanted him to give his future approval? the system was being a bitch and seemed to enjoy his confusion over the way events had been continuously unfolding.

but then one of binghe's sly wives—a scammer who airplane contradictorily describes as pure-hearted at her core—comes up to him one day and tells him, "I have your baby."

And she shamelessly does it in front of the whole cang qiong delegation.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't know where or who the shrill keening sound was coming from.

[thesadisticsiren]

I need more content of Shen Qingqiu and Mobei Jun becoming ... not QUITE friends, but once Mobei Jun understands that Shen Qingqiu is NOT flirting with his husband I think they could vibe?

Them just sitting in a room quietly for an hour because binghe had some demon clan to deal with so shen qingqiu was gonna visit airplane bro but hes caught up with finalizing some trade agreement documents. Neither says more than 5 words total the whole time and both would consider it a pleasant interaction.

They could bond over having a scarily competent spouse who can burst into tears on command. And Binghe could approve of this 'friendship' because mobei clearly isn't going to attempt to steal shizun because he's got his OWN peaklord he's in love with. Idk what Shang Qinghua would get out of this but like I think he'd approve.

Also I'm just saying sqh and lbh have a type as well, and it's ice faced beautiful men who internally love so much they don't know how to express it

Do you see my vision.