#and considering he's mostly in that place...

[trashwithvariety]

so this has probably already been talked about in great detail since the end of the show (hannibal) but I just did a rewatch and I can't shut up about it. the incredible level of subtle details in this show is already insane but I noticed it much clearer in my rewatch during season 3 part two how quickly we see Will change.

during *The Great Red Dragon*, Will is back to mostly his pre-Hannibal self. We see him married with a family out in the country with his dogs and more specifically his clothes (I am going to be very specific about what he wears in this because it's these details that are so subtle but make his change so much more crispy). He's wearing very practical, warm weather clothes, looks like an outdoorsman.

like, reminder that this ↓

is how he shows up to meet Hannibal again for the first time in years. Glasses, coat, clearly clothes he would not think twice about wearing anywhere, kind of like how he dresses in season one. It's also in his expression and his stature (which bless Hugh Dancy for his portrayal of Will because I don't know who else could have done the subtle changes so eloquently)

now let me take you to the episode directly after (And the Woman Clothed with the Sun) he first sees Hannibal and has to come back to talk to him

i'm sorry??? Immediately with the crisp button down, tucked in, with the top buttons undone, hair slicked back, NO GLASSES and look. Look at how he stands and his expression and how comfortable he is, hands in pockets.

okay further evidence. And honestly arguably the scariest piece

it's the dead-eyed stare for me. We all know what happened to Chilton after this, and it's the fact that he knew what he was doing. God, Will was never more like Hannibal than he was at the end of season three. Clothes are not much different on purpose because he's playing the game now.

Sidebar that in almost all the scenes that he's bitchily talking to Bedelia, he's also very well dressed as if he's taking Hannibal's place in his manipulation of her.

By the time we see him in The Wrath of the Lamb, he has already decided that he wants Hannibal back. Vaguely suggesting to Jack to use Hannibal as bait for the Dragon, as if he didn't very well consider all the outcomes would likely lead to Hannibal escaping. The way they're looking conspiratorially at each other in the back of the van. How Will isn't even remotely surprised he walks out unscathed or how he doesn't question letting him drive them to wherever they're going to meet the dragon.

And once they get to the cliffside house, and they get settled and Will?

His shirt is tight, his expression is the SAME as the one Hannibal had in episode ONE season ONE, as he watches Hannibal BLEED OUT and wonders probably what they will do.

There are plenty of ways everyone that worked on this show displayed how Will was changing but I loved how they used his clothes to do it and how Hugh used his expressions to differentiate pre-Hannibal and post-Hannibal Will.

I could write a dissertation on this show it's insane and I will never shut up about my murderous gay husbands.

[blauequuleus]

@snow-leopard-777

I am gonna run with this idea for a bit

Tim has a new obsession

Or maybe it would be considered a project?

Either way Tim has found a new fascination in one Danny Fenton

A Danny Fenton who had now been living in the 33rd floor men’s bathroom for about 4 months now. It was a bathroom located, seemingly forgotten, in the back of an old unused office/storage area, that hadn’t been occupied by a team for about 3 years now.

With Tim having only found out about Danny after he’d been living there for, as Tim estimated, about a month

Now normally this would have been a cause of alarm for Tim to find out an unknown person had taken up residence just one floor above some of their more sensitive projects.

And it was alarming, until Tim started to dig for information about Wayne Enterprises’ new tenant.

And what little he found he did not like

But that was also the main point of Tim’s new fixation …the fact that he found such little information about Danny and his background

Now not to toot his own horn but Tim knows he can find information and dirt on anyone. Give him a computer, some wi-fi and 5 minutes and he could find information that could possibly crumble governments in the same time span.

But Danny was turning out to be a very frustrating yet fascinating case

Because Tim kept only finding more questions than answers about the guy and where he’s from

His, what was supposed to be quick, look into his new neighbor turned into a rabbit hole of government conspiracies and coverups. A whole town that seemingly doesn’t exist anymore but with active but empty online profiles claiming to be from there, a heavily encrypted recent tax record of the city and also a census that was mostly redacted. Not to mention there being some billionaire mixed up in there too.

What had really made Tim pause was some possible evidence of human experimentation by a shady government branch and a bounty for Danny placed by the same governmental branch Tim had never heard of nor could he find much information on. Which Tim would bet all his WE stock on were connected

Needless to say Tim’s new project had him deeply fascinated and slightly horrified that the Justice League had missed something as big as this.

So Tim after keeping an eye on Danny for a bit and realizing he wasn’t doing anything other than using the bathroom as a temporary home, lets him stay. With Tim keeping an unknown eye on him just in case.

Cause other than the new can of worms with Danny’s background check, Tim was also curious about the guy himself.

He was interested to figure out how Danny had managed to bypass all their security measures. Because WE’s security system was nothing to sneeze at. Heck just last week and alarm had gone off cause a fly had gotten into a restricted area.

Yet somehow this guy about Tim’s age had not only managed to get into the building, he’d set up a bedroom for himself and was able to keep coming and going undetected.

Obviously some kind of meta or possibly alien but Tim knew they had security systems in place to detect those kinds of things. So the fact Danny ignored all of that was very interesting.

Unfortunately it all came crashing down a bit when in a routine maintenance Danny’s little place was discovered.

Tim had been doing some work in his lesser known office he has when he just needs to get work done without interruptions, it’s on a more empty floor and is “coincidentally” one floor above Danny’s little apartment. But suddenly after some commotion he looks up to see the new object of his investigative obsession running towards his open door looking panicked and asking to hide him.

And who is Tim to turn down this golden opportunity of Danny coming to him instead of Tim having to figure out a way to approach him without scaring him off.

So now Tim has a choice: he could get Danny out of the building and maybe if Danny will let him help find Danny a new place to live or he gets Danny out but drops info about another abandoned bathroom on the 35th floor that had just been repaired and shouldn’t have maintenance come by again for a few months especially if Tim changes the schedule for that one

And so now unknown to everyone but Tim, and an increasingly frustrated security team, Danny now lives at WE.

Tim decides two things as well: the less people that know about Danny’s existence for now the better with that government bounty on his head and that this will be a great way to win Danny’s trust and get more information by helping him hide

And so Danny lives there in the WE tower with only Tim being the wiser as to who he is. Danny will sometimes pop out and visit Tim in his 34th floor office where Tim now keeps food and drinks.

And this is a great set up for a while with Tim getting to know Danny and helping l him on dismantling/untangling everything that lead to Danny being there. No it’s not a crush Tim just finds Danny smart, funny and very cute but on a professional level. But then it dawns on Tim after a close call with security he can’t just let Danny keep up like this so one fake id and employment later Tim unceremoniously adds Danny to the employee registry as a security tester.

He’d run the idea by Danny who readily agreed plus now Tim can pay him and give Danny a new start.

Tim never tells anyone about the new hire until security catches Danny on an off day but before they can escort him out of the building Danny tells them he works there. Which they don’t believe until they pull him up in the system and discover his title and that he works directly under Tim.

Danny running into a room: Hide me!

Tim: Under my desk! Quick!

Danny: *Jumping the desk* Thank you!

Security Guard running in: Mr. Drake-Wayne! Have you seen a suspicious man pass through here?

Tim: Hmm? No. Is something happening?

Security Guard: A while ago, someone reported that a homeless man was found sleeping in one of our less used bathrooms. It looks like he had been staying there for a while. He had an entire camp set up. He ran as soon as the security was called but we think he's still in the building.

Tim: Wow that's crazy. Hope you catch him

Security Guard: Thank you. I suggest you move down to level 1 until we're sure he's not a danger.

Tim: Of course. I'll be right there.

Tim: *Moving his wheel chair back to stare into Danny's eyes* He's gone.

Danny: Thank you so much for hiding me.

Tim: You're welcome. Take off your clothes

Danny: Excuse me?

Tim: Switch into one of my spare suits. We're going to pretend you're my guest and walked you right pass security.

Danny: Who keeps seven spair complete suits at work?

Tim: *Holding up two ties* I do. Now, this Aqua blue makes your eyes pop, but this classic black with silver stripes gives you a mysterious aura. What are we feeling?

Danny: ....the blue one is nice.

[stellamancer]

notes: time is a construct that bten!reader no longer understands. anyway, yes hellow, late gojo birthday fic that i am pretending that i'm not posting on megumi's birthday LMAO.

takes place in the same universe as beyond the unending night, however reading that fic is not necessary, all you need to know is that reader has a CT that can rewind time. slight and implied reader x gojo if you're squinting. also. reader is very unreliable narrator (there are some things in the narration that gojo responds to because reader is unaware they said it aloud oops.) not proofread.

wc: 944

“Your birthday was a couple days ago?” 

Gojo tilts his head toward you, expression passive for a split second before a broad grin spreads across his face. “It was! How did you know! Wait, let me guess, you—”

“The students,” you supply flatly before he can make any outlandish suggestions regarding how you happened across the information. “Yuta-kun mentioned it.” 

There’s a slight pucker to Gojo’s lips, but it’s gone almost instantly as he remarks. “Oh Yuta… He’s always been an exemplary student! Even going so far as to remember his dear old teacher’s birthday…” 

You stare at Gojo. There’s a trap here. Bait. It’s not well hidden either, if his exaggerated tone is any indication. You consider telling him straight up: it’s not possible to remember something you never knew in the first place. But instead, you decide to indulge him. “Do people usually not remember?” 

Now that you say that, you find the words hard to believe. You can barely call yourself a part of jujutsu society, but there’s no denying that Gojo is something of a big deal. There’s no way that these illustrious ‘higher ups’ would forget the birthday of someone as important as Satoru Gojo.

“It’s not that they don’t remember,” Gojo says, “it’s that they just don’t care.” 

The nonchalance in his voice stuns you, more so than the fact that you cannot detect even a hint of bitterness in it. They… don’t care? You want to be in denial, to think that that simply cannot be true. And yet…

You cannot deny it. 

Not when you know what you do of the top brass.

“Well, not the students,” Gojo adds, fondness seeping into his tone as the tiniest smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Threw me a party and everything. As expected of students of the Great Teacher Gojo!”

He puffs his chest out a little, clearly pleased, no doubt proud. 

“...did you do anything else?” you ask. Knowing someone as whimsical as Gojo, you can imagine him spending the day as he pleased, going from sweet shop to sweet shop spending exorbitant amounts of money on any and every sugary item he could possibly get his hands on. 

“Nope.” 

You blink at him. “What.”

“I was waaaaaay too busy to do anything else,” Gojo says with a dramatic sigh. “Honestly, I’m lucky that the students love me so much that they took on a couple extra missions just so we could party for a half hour.”

Gojo’s words have you gawking at him, slack jawed and in awe. You’re well aware that he’s a busy guy, but to only have had a half hour of free time on his birthday to celebrate is just…

“Don’t make that face.” His voice is quiet. Gentle. “It’s fine; I’m used to it. Just a part of being an adult, you know?”

He’s not wrong, but… 

Somehow, it doesn’t sit well with you. 

“....you’re done with everything you have to do today, right?” you ask, reaching into your pocket to check the time; it’s nearly midnight.

“Yeah?” Gojo answers, and while he sounds mostly amused, you think you can hear the smallest hint of confusion. “You thinking of having a late night snack together to make up for missing my birthday? How romantic of you!” 

“Not exactly,” you shoot back without missing a beat, but Gojo doesn’t seem to be disappointed by you rebuffing him. You outstretch your palm toward him and he inclines his head down slightly to show that he’s looking down at it. 

Gojo hums. He knows what you’re thinking. Of course he does. “You know that’s technically against the rules.” 

“And?” you ask as you stare back at him.

“You could get in biiiiiiig trouble, you know.”

Your gaze doesn’t waver.

“Could even be sentenced to death for it!” 

Your hand doesn’t move.

Gojo tilts his head to the side before heaving a sigh and shaking his head. He raises his hand, but rather than take yours, he reaches up higher and moves to flick your forehead. That would work just as well, and for a split second you gather your cursed energy, ready to use your technique, but—

You merely wince and Gojo tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow as your energy quickly dissipates.

“Change your mind?” he asks.

“Wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it,” you answer honestly. Did he actually flick you or did he just ‘pretend’ to? There wouldn't have been any point if he pretended. 

“What do you think?”

You frown as a playful, yet menacing grin spreads across Gojo's face. He knows full well that you can't tell, especially if you can't even see the point of contact. 

“Well wishes aside, the only other thing I can really offer you is time,” you deadpan. It wasn't like you were going to be stupid and give him a week or even a month, but…

Gojo wags his finger at you, tutting. “No, not true! There's something else!”

You give him a pointed look. What else could you possibly give? 

“Well, it's really more like an IOU,” he explains airily, before his tone shifts, growing quieter and more serious. “Just get stronger. Strong enough to take on missions just like me and maybe next year we can have a longer party.” 

You sigh. His suggestion is more practical, more useful in the long run, and while you can agree with what he's proposed… It's his birthday. He could afford to be a little more selfish. 

“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow, his smile ever wide and absolutely ominous. “I'll keep that in mind next time.” 

[heich0e]

Unkuna for your Christmas drabble game? 🫣

ask game: a christmas drabble from an established AU AU: uncle!sukuna

"ji-chan... why are you looking at pictures of underwears?"

sukuna jolts upright from his place on the couch, dropping his cellphone into his lap in a belated effort to hide the device's screen from the pair of big, curious eyes peering over his shoulder.

"for the love of—" sukuna cuts himself off, whipping around in his seat to see his nephew clinging to the back of the sofa. "stop spyin' on me you little brat!"

"i wasn't spying on you!" yuuji protests, wiggling a little as he attempts to hold himself up off the ground by gripping the sofa cushions with all his might. "you just weren't paying attention to me because you were looking at underwears."

"first of all," sukuna holds a finger in his nephew's face "there's no 's' on the end of underwear." yuuji blinks owlishly, his eyes crossing a little as he stares at his uncle's outstretched finger. the elder then uses it to flick the little boy gently between his brows. "second of all... don't tell your dad you saw that."

"why were you looking at them anyway?" yuuji asks, clambering the rest of the way up the back of the sofa to flop himself down into his uncle's lap. sukuna grunts as the kid lands over his thighs, shifting to accommodate the new intrusion.

"i wasn't."

"were too!" yuuji argues and then laughs.

sukuna sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"i'm buying a present for my friend."

"you're buying your friend underwears?" yuuji blinks up at his uncle in confusion.

"i gotta..." sukuna cuts himself off with a groan. "i gotta buy a christmas present."

"for who?"

"for someone."

"who's someone?" yuuji asks, tugging on the front of his uncle's shirt insistently. sukuna's eyes roll upwards as he takes a deep breath to find the will to deal with this pint-sized annoyance.

"i already told ya,—"

sukuna attempts to pry yuuji's hand off his shirt and then tickles him when the kid's grip refuses to slacken. his efforts are successful and yuuji instinctively lets go of the material when his sides are threatened by his uncle's underhanded attack. he squirms away from his uncle with a giggle, and then takes a seat at his side.

"—it's for a friend."

yuuji's lips purse thoughtfully as he mulls over his uncle's statement.

"i've got friends," sukuna says warningly, sensing what yuuji is about to say.

"isn't that a weird present to give to your friend?" yuuji ignores his uncle's unprompted defense in favour of his own point.

it's sukuna's turn to purse his lips pensively now.

and... fuck, the kid's right.

yuuji slips from the sofa and returns to his previously occupied place at the kotatsu, picking up his green safety scissors to continue his momentarily paused craft. he's cutting snowflakes out of paper to decorate the apartment, though he hasn't quite mastered it yet and is mostly just cutting out variously lopsided triangles.

sukuna flops down face first on the couch with a groan, mulling over his nephew's (annoyingly accurate) point. he listens to the sound of yuuji's dull scissors slicing through paper for a few moments and then picks his head up to look at him.

"hey... what would you get your friend for christmas?"

"i don't get my friends presents for christmas, that's santa's job," yuuji says, looking over at his uncle with an expression that seems to say 'don't you know that?'

a throb of irritation blooms behind sukuna's eyes.

"then how do you know they don't want underwear?" he asks tersely, though his anger is largely misdirected considering yuuji is only six years old.

"because underwears are boring," yuuji says matter of factly. "that's why papa buys mine for me. let your friend's papa buy them underwears, that's their job."

sukuna's lips part for a moment to explain that your father certainly would not be buying you the underwear he has been looking at on his phone a few moments prior, but thinks better of it in the last second.

"what should i get them, then?" sukuna finally asks, his tone far more defeated than it had been a moment prior when he was arguing with the child before him.

"dunno!" yuuji exclaims, examining the 'snowflake' he'd just cut (another hack job.) "what kinda stuff do they like?"

that's the problem. sukuna has no idea what you like—at least not in the way that's gonna help him with his gift giving. he knows what makes you flustered, what makes you scream, but he hasn't the faintest idea about what makes you... happy.

"i know!" yuuji whips around to face his uncle with a look of clarity on his little face, his eyes lit up in excitement.

sukuna waits eagerly to hear his revelation.

"it's fushiguro's birthday next week, and i got him a super cool spiderman toy. wanna see it?"

sukuna flops down on the sofa again in defeat, all hope abandoning him.

yuuji seems offended by his uncle's lack of enthusiasm. "i bet your friend would like it too!"

"don't think so, brat."

yuuji gapes. "but everyone loves spiderman!"

"maybe everyone who's six," sukuna snorts. "my friend's a grown up."

"grown ups can like spiderman too, me and papa watch it together."

"your dad's just an oversized kid anyway," sukuna waves his hand dismissively as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling overhead.

yuuji laughs, setting about cutting out another horrifically terrible snowflake. "that's what he says about you!"

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Hogwarts AU [pt. 2]

The second time they meet, Tim actually knows a little more than nothing about him.

He knows Daniel is Vladimir Masters godson, set to inherit the man's title, and he knows that his birth parents are both wizards, albeit eccentric ones. No one would tell him how they are eccentric, not to mention why.

He knows the boy is a second child among the three, and his older sister is going to Hogwarts next year while his younger one had just turned five. And Daniel himself is seven, just like Tim, which means they will be in the same year eventually. He doesn't know whether he likes that or not.

He doesn't know nearly enough about him to form an opinion.

What he does know, though, is that he absolutely doesn't like Samantha Manson.

Mother had met Mr. and Mrs. Manson at that same party that Daniel kind of ruined (Father's words, not his, Tim thinks that elephant trunks were an improvement), and, upon finding out that they have a daughter Tim's age, decided they should be friends. Which is how Tim found himself sitting in an offensively pink room on an uncomfortably soft pink couch that is threatening to swallow him whole, right across a girl in a pink dress and with a pink bow in her hair. Granted, they are all different shades of pink, but Tim still feels very out of place in his black pants and pale blue shirt with a tight collar.

However, the most unsettling part about all this is that Samantha hadn't said a single word in about ten minutes - so, since they were left alone in this horror of a room by their respective mothers - and Tim is fairly certain she hadn't blinked once, and she is glaring something awful at Tim. For all that he knows, she is probably coming up with a detailed plan of burying his dead body in the garden.

Tim honestly tried to start a conversation. Twice. The girl looked like she didn't even notice, so Tim just kind of resigned to his fate and decided to simply wait until this was over.

He really regrets not bringing a book with him.

Another few minutes pass in silence, interrupted only by some cheerful chirping of birds outside. And then, right as Tim starts to actually consider flopping down on the soft pillows behind him and falling asleep, he hears a knock.

Samantha turns her head to the window so quickly that Tim is afraid her neck will snap. But, as he follows her example and looks outside, he can't help but blink in surprise.

Daniel Fenton, wearing some kind of red jacket with a hood - definitely muggle by the looks of it - is hovering just outside the window. On a broom. They are seven, they are not supposed to have brooms yet! Or, at least, not the ones that can go all the way up to the window on the second floor!

"Bloody finally," Samantha rolls her eyes and jumps off her seat, nearly running towards the window, "What took you so long?" She demands an answer in a snappish tone that allows no excuses.

Daniel grins and shrugs, "Jazz almost caught me sneaking out," he explains, but his gaze is not on Samantha. Instead, he is looking over her shoulder, right at Tim, before asking, "Who's that?"

The girl turns around and scowls, "A boy that my Mum wants me to marry."

Tim sputters, feeling his cheeks heat up, but not out of embarrassment; it's mostly just frustration. She most definitely does not, they are seven, and their mothers can't be making plans like that!

Can they?..

Daniel laughs, bringing the broom closer to the window and setting one foot on the widowsill for balance.

"I would have invited you with us, but I only have one broom," he tells Tim, still smiling. Tim bites his lip.

He wants to go with them so badly. They look like whatever they are about to do is going to be way more interesting than Tim's whole life. But Mother will probably be upset, and-

"Don't bother, he is boring," Samantha huffs dismissively as she pulls the skirt of her dress up and climbs out the window, carefully holding on to Daniel's shoulder as she gets on the broom behind him.

For some reason, that makes Tim angry.

He sticks his chin up higher, straightening up in his seat and frowning. "I don't see how your inevitable fall from a broom is interesting anyway," he drawls, far more mean and uncaring than he wanted to.

"See? Boring," Samantha smirks, but Daniel just looks a bit confused and thrown off.

"I'm not gonna fall," he tells Tim with a certainty that makes Tim kind of want to apologize. But the girl behind him is still smiling like she won something, and Tim is not about to back down now.

"Live with that illusion all you want," he huffs and turns away, still keeping his back straight.

"Come on, Danny, let's go," Samantha urges her friend impatiently, and Tim is decidedly not looking in that direction. He doesn't want either of them to see him pouting. Also, maybe he just doesn't want to see them fly away.

But he still hears a quiet "Bye," from the window before the room goes back to silence, interrupted only by the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

When, mere moments later, Tim looks back to the window, both of them are gone without a trace.

—☆—☆—☆—

Visuals!

The offensively pink room and the way to escape:

Tim's opinion on Sam:

[Picrew]

—☆—☆—☆—

More notes on the people and the world around:

Mansons are, actually, filthy rich. They are a wizarding family, but they are way less concerned about blood purity than people expect them to be. A part of their business involves muggle products, and while they don't advertise it, they don't try to hide it either. Jeremy never attended Hogwarts, he was a Beuxbatons student, and Pamela was a Slytherin. Both of them don't exactly like Danny for separate reasons, but Pam likes to keep Vlad as a friend, and if that means letting Sam be friends with his godson, then so be it. She still tries to keep their contact to a minimum, but it's not like Danny - or Sam, for that matter - cares.

Janet and Pamela did not, in fact, plan to marry their kids; they just liked each other enough to have tea together and decided to combine it with throwing their children at each other. Although Pam does consider Tim a fitting pair for her daughter. Janet is of a different opinion.

The broom Danny took actually belongs to Jack - or, it belonged to him a few years ago, up until Danny realized the kiddie broom is not fun anymore. Jazz is constantly scared he is going to fall and break his neck, but Maddie thinks her son is good enough of a flyer. Besides, even if they did take the broom from Danny, he would just find a different thing to break his neck with, so Maddie just put a bunch of disillusionment charms on the poor broom so Danny won't be noticed by muggles and called it a day.

This is very much not the first time Danny comes to save Sam like she's a maiden in a tower. Also, Sam is not mean out of nowhere, she just likes Danny and hates sharing, and she is seven.

[<- part 1 | part 3 ->]

[maxwell-grant]

So given the last issue's showing of what exactly were the other teams that Classic Heavy said that they'd killed in Issue 6, cementing the extent to which there's always been a whole bunch of other super spy/cartoon warfare elite teams in this world that we weren't privy to and the whole offscreen deaths of the mercenary community that happened at the hands of the Classic Team, TF2 Medic's involvement with the Classic Team raises two pretty funny possibilites:

1: Ludwig's been with them for months, ergo, he must have been with them for the massacres of all those other teams that occured during the six months the Classic Team's been hunting them, and at no point did it ever cross his mind or bother him that his friends could be next. He doesn't even understand why Sniper's upset at him about joining them, there wasn't any team left to betray (and black market research doesn't pay for itself).

2: Ludwig's been with them for months, but given he has spent those months mostly dicking around with animal body part experiments, that he apparently hasn't gotten to actually be Medic in line of duty often (given the "Finally! Some field work!" line above), and that Classic Heavy considered him a coward and deemed him unfit to be on the field and didn't want to hire him in the first place, it raises the possibility that Medic WASN'T there for all the offscreen massacres - but he very much wanted to be and so he settled for putting baboon uteruses on the Classic Team whenever they landed on his table. He wasn't even planning to betray Classic Heavy until the last minute, this was just Medic being Medic.

[leoivys]

𝑺𝑬𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑻 𝑺𝑨𝑵𝑻𝑨 — 𝑱𝑨𝑺𝑶𝑵 𝑻𝑶𝑫𝑫

– contents; fluff and mostly batfam stuff instead of just romance

– summary; a casually chaotic Secret Santa with the bat family as Jason's partner.

– word count; 1.5k

The roofs of the houses were beginning to gain a white hue as more snowflakes fell gracefully – the children in the city found joy in it, their laughter echoed in the streets while they initiated snowball fights with their friends and neighbors. Adults were busy shopping or grabbing a coffee to catch up in the presence of their loved ones, and the holiday music played in every street. Christmas was known for bringing even the most distant people back together.

A part of you hated how cold it was, but it was your idea to take a walk around the city with your partner before you drove over to the manor for Christmas day like you usually do. However, how can one ignore such events on these joyous days just for their own comfort?

The fuzzy feeling of the gloves around your hands and your coat enveloping you in its warmth was rather enjoyable even if the world outside was freezing while you walked with Jason. A soft sigh escaped you as you finally entered Wayne Manor, welcomed by Alfred opening the door for you and the heat that escaped the inside of the building.

Greetings, hugs, and smiles were exchanged with more excitement than usual while you took your seat on the couch in the main living room amongst the rest of the family – everything was decorated; the tree that you all helped set up, stockings on the fireplace with everyone's names engraved on the soft red fabric and no one can skip Alfred's baked goods resting on the coffee table.

It's odd thinking that a few years back, most of the family members were off doing their own thing instead of being here and spending time with everyone else like Jason avoided them for a good few years before he finally gave in. Now, everyone was present and agreed to have a Secret Santa along with the rest of the activities scheduled for that day.

Tim and Damian were surprisingly getting along, wearing matching Christmas sweaters as well, and then you noticed Dick supervising the two with a proud smile drawn on his face as he kept a conversation with Jason and Steph. Duke was helping Alfred bring in more sweets on the table. Cass and Barbara were calmly chatting with you about various topics and the one at hand; who was Secret Santa for who?

Meanwhile, Bruce observed everyone with a hint of a smile and a sigh as the place filled with chatter and the life it lacked most of the year due to responsibilities, his shoulders relaxed as he was more than happy to host this event annually and welcome his family –and those who he considered family– home.

“Alright everyone, enough of your chit chats. Let's start.” Dick stated, too excited to wait even further as he quickly moved to grab a present from under the tree and took a moment to read the name on it and handed it to Cass, and then kept handing out presents to everyone.

Each family member got something based on their personality, training, or hobby, and some presents were filled with meme cards describing them. Eager chuckles echoed in the room before Bruce interrupted.

“Who got that for Damian?” He asked in a mockingly firm tone as he pointed at the young boy swaying a katana similar to the one he had when he got trained by his grandfather in his hands. Just before anyone could answer, Barbara did everyone a favor and started playing Christmas music through the speakers set by the tree.

Jason scoffed at the sight of Bruce's dynamic with Damian – it had been a while since a youngling had given him a heart attack, enjoying the show and unwrapping his present. His hands traced the hardcover of the book as he lifted it up and read the title; ‘All the light we cannot see’ which had him confused for a moment. He had that book in his library already, didn't he? So he studied it further, flipping through the first few pages only to find that not only was it a first edition copy, but it was signed too.

His eyes flicked to you as his hands traced the sign on the delicate page of the book before he snapped the book closed with a smile brighter than the star atop the tree. Jason immediately knew that his gift was from you since he had been ranting about how much he wanted this for the past month or so. His suspicions were confirmed by the smile on your face.

It was really hard to find it online and get it signed just for him, but you knew it would be worth it.

“You didn't.” Jason mumbled, finding the fact that he had this book in his hands as he clutched onto it like it might disappear into thin air.

The known-for-his-violent-ways Red Hood was now acting like a literal child on Christmas, completely awestruck and bringing you in a tight hug as he muttered his thank you's. His attitude earned a chuckle from you, his embrace giving you even more warmth while his heart was beating out of his chest.

Duke blinked a few times. The newest addition to the family was having a hard time trying to process the sight before him. “Is Jason okay, or is he having some sort of cardiac arrest?” he managed to mutter, his gaze shifting to everyone else laughing at his question.

Your gift consisted of newly made gadgets, upgraded equipment, and a personal touch with a vintage Polaroid to top it off – definitely Tim's job.

Yet you couldn't help but be thankful for those, given Dick's situation; shirts that were literally merchandise about his butt, an eye mask for power naps, and a ‘big brother manual’ book. “Whose idea was this?” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in mock annoyance, a small smile brightening his fine features.

“That's a brilliant idea, Dick.” Jason chimed in, not bothering to hide his usual smug smirk. It was definitely him who thought of that combination as a good Christmas gift for his older brother.

Meanwhile, Barbara wasn't having it easy either, with the present in her hands containing a vintage phone and a custom Lego set of Oracle. “A Nokia? Really?” She asked, a low chuckle escaping her lips as she turned to face Steph. “You're lucky I like Lego sets, but you're stuck in this with me.” Barb threatened playfully as she set the box by her side.

Stephanie raised her hands in the air in mock surrender, she didn't seem to mind the idea of building a custom Lego set in the company of Barbara; in fact, it was a good opportunity to spend a girl's night along with you and Cass while having a chit chat – or gossiping. “It's for emergencies. And the Lego set was cute.” She explained with a shrug.

“Fine. You'll see how cute it is when you have to build this many pieces.” Barb protested, her tone lacking real bite as she pointed back at the amount of pieces written on the box. “You're all invited to our suffering.” She commented jokingly, glancing at you and Cass.

Cass perked up at the idea, “I'll bring the snacks.” She said simply, her voice soothing as ever even as it held a bit of enthusiasm as she gave Barbara a thumbs-up.

Meanwhile, Dick was flipping through the pages of the manual and hastily reading the contents before he could comment on them. “Who wrote this?” He scoffed, shaking his head disapprovingly, and continued reading. “...’Always take responsibility for your siblings' mess-ups.’ Really, Jason?”

Jason leaned back in his seat and shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest as an amused huff escaped him. “Merry Christmas, Dick.”

Tim studied the merch, trying his best to bite back his laughter at what his eyes met while Duke observed alongside Damian, who decided to address the situation accordingly. “That was uncalled for, even by your appallingly low standards, Todd.”

Dick sighed and shook his head once more, yet he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face as he couldn't help but find the situation entertaining. “You're so getting payback next year. And I'm rigging the draw.” He stated as he tried on his nap mask with a proud smirk.

Bruce, sitting quietly by the fireplace with Alfred whom he had exchanged gifts with, took another sip of his coffee and sighed, allowing himself a small chuckle as he watched the banter unfold. He was prouder than he'd care to admit, of everyone in the room.

“Everyone, pause.” You interrupted every party in the room as you took hold of your brand-new Polaroid and held it out for a selfie, trying to make sure everyone was in the frame. “Say ‘Merry Christmas!’.” You exclaimed with pure excitement and messily snapped a picture, holding the moment forever captive.

a/n; Merry Christmas and happy holidays in general ♡

[sailorrhansol]

i'm a ho ho ho..... cheol/chan/reader.... bonus if chan is in a "learning" role and cheol is in charge of the whole thing :) :) :) my brain is a basic bitch i can't do anything with her

❀ Pairing: Chan x Reader x Seungcheol

❀ Summary: You always enjoy the office holiday party each year, especially when you get to do secret santa. This year, you enlist Seungcheol’s help to give Chan the perfect gift. 

❀ Word Count: 5,632

❀ Genre: PWP, Polyamorous, Established Relationship (Cheol x reader)

❀ Type:  Smut

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Just pure filth honestly. Fucking in an office when they totally should not be, mention of power dynamics in the sense that Seungcheol is both Chan and reader’s boss but they kind of skip around that even though Cheol explicitly makes sure to let Chan know it’s okay to reject, semi-public sex if you count the fact they’re in an office, implied but not explicit dom/sub dynamics with Seungcheol as the dominant and reader/Chan as the more submissives, oral (f. receiving) and vaginal fingering, pussy drunk Chan, spitting, multiple orgasms, a little bit of overstimulation, some hair pulling, biting, a lot of heavy kissing and making out, it is a light threesome - this is mostly reader and Chan with Seuncheol very involved in instruction/kissing/touching them. Nickname use: baby for reader, Channie for Chan and one (1) Cheolie for Seungcheol

❀ A/N: Mojo Jojo Siwa I love you so much. Happy belated birthday but also happy it-took-me-three-weeks-to-fill-your-request. I BELIEVE IN BOYS KISSING BOYS DURING THREESOMES SO IF YOU DON’T LIKE THAT SHIT GO AWAY. ALL SIDES OF THE TRIANGLE TOUCH IN MY WORLD BECAUSE BISEXUAL SUPREMACY. Anyway - here is this absolute filth and dream that Jo convinced me to write - I cannot be held accountable for how many times hands and mouth and spit are mentioned thank you 🫡

❀ A/N 2: THIS IS UNEDITED BECAUSE I’M THE GRINCH AND I DON’T WANNA BETA READ MY OWN STUFF. SPELL CHECK WILL HAVE TO DO FOR RIGHT NOW. 

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀ Haliday’s Request Event

Nervousness creeps up as you watch Chan open up his gift, eyes zeroed in on the way his deft fingers peel back the wrapping paper carefully. Chan is always so careful, his touch delicate and precise, sliding his fingers under the seam of the paper to pry it open without ripping anything. 

Holiday music plays loudly over the speakers on someone’s desk. Everyone talks and sips on drinks, gathered around the conference room table as Chan finishes opening his git, shedding the wrapping paper. He’s already grinning, lower lip tucked between his teeth as he shakes his head, red creeping up the side of his neck. 

You try not to react, pleased to see that he likes the stack of limited edition books you’ve gifted him. He runs his fingers over the decorated edges, just as careful not to damage them as he was with the wrapping paper. You squirm in your seat, sipping more champagne to quell the dryness in your throat and give you more liquid courage. 

Someone places a hand on your shoulder and you spare a glance upward, though by the scent of the heady cologne you already know it’s Seungcheol. He’s watching Chan with a smirk, his dark hair pushed out of his face and his glasses sliding a little down his nose as he watches Chan look around the table, flushed and pleased. 

“This is way over the purchase limit,” he laughs, scratching the back of his neck and shaking his head. Mingyu lets out an impressed noise, leaning over to see the books and ask what they are. “They’re a limited edition and signed copy of my favorite fantasy series.” 

“Damn, someone likes you,” Mingyu mutters, sipping his beer. “Time to guess.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker to you. You hold your breath, your pulse thumping in your throat as you try not to avert your eyes. Chan’s eyes drift upward to Seungcheol, who you can feel is equally amused. There’s indecision on Chan’s face, his fingers drumming atop the stack of books. 

“Come on,” Mingyu urges. “Guess.”

Chan’s eyes return to you. Back to Seungcheol. Then to you again. You grin, watching as he tries to work out which one of you bought them. You’re the only person in the office who would know how much he valued that specific book series, but Seungcheol is the only one in the office who makes overspending and spoiling his employees a habit. 

Especially Chan. 

“Fuck, it’s hard,” he admits, gaze settling on Seungcheol, finally. “You, boss?” 

Seungcheol chuckles, the motion of it shaking the back of your chair. You can feel his thumb brushing back and forth on your shoulder, soothing and warm. It feels nice, the champagne turning his touch molten. 

“Nope,” Seungcheol answers, popping the ‘p’ sharply at the end. “Sorry, Channie.” 

Chan’s blush intensifies as he drops his gaze, shaking his head. He cradles the books close to him, possessive. He spares you a glance when he says, “Whoever bought these is far too nice of a santa. I don’t deserve this.” 

He does deserve it. Chan is the youngest member of your company and by far the hardest working and the sweetest. Over the last two years, you’ve watched him grow from the shy, nervous junior employee to a full time member of the staff who is… still shy, but a little more confident in his work with an incredible mindset. 

Sure, your opinion of him is a little bit biased. Chan is your work husband, the person you’re closest to and who you can always go to when you need to vent about Mingyu fucking up your spreadsheets or for help when you have a last minute firedrill to solve. 

Despite, of course, your actual boyfriend being a few yards away in his executive office. 

Seungcheol doesn’t mind that Chan is your work husband. In fact, he adores it, teasing you when you get shy after vehemently praising Chan during a meeting or nominating him to take more responsibility to prove himself. He likes that Chan has you to take care of him, to lead him through the corporate world when Seungcheol is too buried underneath meetings and paperwork to do so. 

Someone else starts opening a gift, but your eyes are reserved for Chan. You lean into Seungcheol’s touch, eyes fluttering when his hand moves from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His grip is firm, kneading the muscles along the back of your neck until you’re melting. Your grip tightens on the flute of champagne a little, the plastic nearly cracking under your grip. 

When secret santa has finished, you stand up to help gather the leftover wrapping paper. Coworkers filter out into the main office, turning up the music and dancing around the cubicles as another bottle is popped. You help shove wrapping paper into a trash bag with Joshua, feeling a little dizzy and warm from the bubbles. 

A hand on your lower back makes you straighten. Seungcheol leans down, mouth brushing against your ear when he murmurs, “Go wait in my office. I’ll bring Chan in for his real gift.” 

Your stomach flips at that. You glance at Joshua to see if he notices, but there is nothing to notice. Everyone knows that you and Seungcheol are together - you’ve been dating for five years. He limits his affection in the office, but it's not uncommon for him to press a quick kiss to your head or leave his hand lingering on you for too long. 

Clearing your throat, you nod and let Seungcheol take over balling up the wrapping paper. You’re not drunk but you feel the buzz of champagne and excitement as you hurry toward Seungcheol’s office at the far end, away from where everyone has gathered around Soonyoung’s cubicle to take shots. 

Inside of Seungcheol’s office is dark. The blinds are shuttered so no one can see from the main bullpen inward. Lights glitter beyond the floor to ceiling windows, the city awash in color underneath the light sky, giving the illusion that the world is blanketed in Christmas lights. 

A heavy desk sits in the far side of the room with towering bookshelves behind it. Seungcheol’s monitor is off and his leather chair is pushed into the desk. In front of the desk is a sitting area, equipped with a full leather sofa, glass coffee table, and two arm chairs. 

You go for the sofa, hands shaking as you sit down, pressing the hem of your skirt down your thighs. Swallowing thickly, your eyes dart toward the door when you hear the volume of singing suddenly increase out in the main office. You grin, shaking your head when you realize it’s because Seungkwan has figured out how to use his portable karaoke machine gifted to him by Jeonghan. 

Shadows pass by the window. You stiffen, leaning forward and placing your hands in your lap when Seungcheol opens the door, letting Chan enter first before he slips in after, flipping the lock. Chan immediately stops in his tracks, looking at you before his eyes dart back to Seungcheol. 

Your heart races, watching carefully as Seungcheol starts to undo his tie, slipping a finger underneath the knot to pull it, walking toward you. The action hypnotizes you, your attention solely on him as he finishes undoing it, tossing it onto an armchair before his fingers work the topmost button of his shirt loose.

He sees the nervous look on your face and he wings, his grin lopsided as he rounds the couch to stand behind you. 

“Take a seat,” Seungcheol tells Chan, his hand landing on your shoulder. You react instantly, leaning into the warmth of his hand, nuzzling his forearm a bit. Chan follows Seungcheol’s instructions, his steps slow and full of trepidation. “We don’t bite, Channie.” 

You huff and Seungcheol chuckles darkly in response, amending, “Usually.” 

Chan is the picture of anxiety, wringing his hands in his lap and looking up at Seungcheol through his glasses with wide eyes. His gaze darts to you only for a second before he licks his lips and looks back up at Seungcheol, shifting back and forth in the armchair as he watches the elder. 

“Relax,” Seungcheol laughs. “You’re not in trouble. I told you she had a second part to her gift.”

“The first one is too much,” Chan drops his gaze to you. He picks at his cuticles, showing he’s as nervous as you feel. “You shouldn’t have. The rules were no more than fifty dollars.”

“It was too good not to.” He softens. “I wanted you to have it.”

“You deserve it,” Seungcheol agrees. His hand massages your shoulder, fingers brushing across your skin. You shiver under his touch, watching Chan as his eyes zero in on where Seungcheol’s hand is on your neck. He licks his lips, shifting. “That’s not the only thing she wanted to give you, though.” 

Chan chews his bottom lip. You feel skittish, twisting your fingers in the hem of your dress. You and Seungcheol had broached this subject several times before, though this is the first time you’re committing to voicing your thoughts to Chan. 

Suddenly faced with having to give him your proposition, you’re terrified. What if he says no? Worse, what if you upset him or make him uncomfortable? It’s a huge risk, what you’re asking, especially with the position that Seungcheol is in as your boss. 

The weight of how bad of an idea this is hits you fully. You open and close your mouth, unable to voice your offer to him, the question dying on your tongue.

Seungcheol’s fingers are still on your shoulder. He leans down, tilting forward to catch your gaze with his. His eyes are dark and calm, a cool lake undisturbed by anything, a constant you can always look to when you’re afraid to do something. You root yourself in his gaze, letting his proximity wash over you, comforting. 

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself this question isn’t coming out of nowhere. Neither you nor Seungcheol would bring Chan here to the office in the dark, away from everyone else if you weren’t borderline positive what his answer would be. 

“I wanted to um…” Your voice is hoarse, cracking with nervousness. You swallow, dropping your eyes into your lap, feeling both of their gazes. “Jeonghan said you kind of had a crush on us.” 

You peek up at Chan to find him white in the face. His mouth parts in horror and you realize this isn’t going the way you planned, your nervousness driving you to the wrong path. 

Seungcheol sees it too, giving you a gentle squeeze and telling Chan, “What she means, but is very bad at saying because she’s nervous, is that she wanted to give you a taste.” 

Silence hangs heavy in the air. Outside of Seungcheol’s office, you hear Mingyu singing All I Want for Christmas Is You. It feels apt, both you and Seungcheol staring at Chan as he looks back at both of you, mouth parted in surprise, chest rising and falling with how heavy he’s breathing now.

“I don’t… understand,” he says finally, addressing Seungcheol. 

“I think you do.” Chan starts to shake his head and Seungcheol tsks, sending a lick of heat down to your core. You know that voice better than anything, and the sound of it turns the air heady. “You can say no. This is the worst place possible for us to be offering this to you and I understand the implications of it coming from… well me. You’re under no obligation and we can go on pretending it didn’t happen.” 

“Jeonghan didn’t mean to tell me.” you tell Chan. “But when he did… I wasn’t mad. I told Cheol and he was pleased to.” You look up at Seungcheol, who smiles at you affectionately. His hand drifts to the back of your head, cradling it carefully. “He likes you too. And me - I like you.” 

“You like me?” 

You nod eagerly as Seungcheol grips your head and faces you back toward Chan. “So I was thinking… you could have an extra gift. If you wanted it. To see if you liked it.” 

“And what does… a taste involve?” Chan asks the question softly, his eyes flickering between you and Seungcheol. “Help me understand better.” 

“Her,” Seungcheol answers. “Whatever you want.” He pauses and smirks, adding, “You’re not ready for me. So just her… for now, if you want.”

Multiple emotions flit past Chan’s face. Confusion. Fear. Indecision. Anxiety. Desire. 

You see the desire there, the way he settles his eyes on you, dark and swimming with want. He doesn’t move, the silence filling the room as Seungcheol let’s Chan choose. You feel your own desire welling up inside of you, a shy and skittish thing that is perhaps too breakable to be offering this way. 

Chan is your mirror. You can see yourself in him, the want that lurks beneath a shallow surface, a fragile thing that he wants to handle but is too afraid that it’ll shatter. You lift a hand from your lap, reaching forward, palm up. Reaching for Chan, reaching for the thread that connected you since the first day he started. 

Your hand wavers there for a second, an invitation, a moment of vulnerability. Just when you think he’s going to reject you, Chan surges forward slowly, extending his hand toward yours. A smile lights up your face, growing even wider when his fingers tentatively skate over yours, rough and unsure. 

Tugging on him gently, you urge Chan from the armchair toward the couch. He’s like a frightened animal, eyes darting toward Seungcheol like he might intervene when he sits next to you, close enough to smell his juniper cologne but farther than you want him to be. 

Seungcheol lets go of your shoulder, walking around the opposite side of the couch. Chan looks at Seungcheol, alarm on his face. The elder chuckles roughly, sitting on your other side a little ways away and murmuring, “Relax, Channie. I’m just sitting down.” 

To further ease his anxiety, you pull Chan’s hand into your lap, lacing your fingers and squeezing. He looks at your linked fingers, marveling at them. It takes him a moment, but he squeezes your hand in return. 

“Can you look at me?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

He does. Chan finally looks at you, gaze raw and burning. Your toes curl when you see the amount of want there, the way his need is right on the surface, simmering. His eyes trace your features, scanning your face to the curve of your neck, dipping lower, lips parted as he drinks you in full. 

“What… What now?” He asks, dragging his eyes back up to yours. 

“Try kissing her.” Seungcheol leans back behind you, supervising. His voice is gentle and coaxing. “She likes kissing.” 

Chan looks at you, asking for permission. You smile, nodding eagerly as you tug on his hand. He obeys, sliding closer to you, thigh pressed against yours. Even through the fabric of his pants, you can feel the heat of his leg wash through you, intoxicating. 

He leans in slowly, his eyes darting toward your mouth as he does. You meet him halfway, breath shaking as you softly press your lips against his. His lips are soft and tentative, nose brushing yours gently. You sigh, leaning into the kiss, making it a little firmer. 

It’s innocent, but you feel the way his fingers tighten in yours, a gentle sound stuck in the back of his throat. You pull away slightly, lashes fluttering open to peer at him. You see your half-lidded eyes in the reflection of his glasses until he opens his eyes.

The urge to have him grows tenfold. Chan’s pupils are blown, the hungry look in his eye raw and real. It makes you surge forward, kissing him for real, letting the hunger for him channel through your mouth. He makes a sound low in the back of his throat, desperate and whiny as you school closer, leg looping over his to keep him in place. 

Letting go of his hand, you bring it up to his face, threading your fingers through his hair. His mouth is warm and wet as he kisses you slowly, tasting of champagne and the frosting of the cupcake he had earlier - sweet, just like him. 

Kissing Chan is unlike kissing Seungcheol. Chan is sweet and slow, running his tongue against the seam of your mouth tentatively while his hands go to your thighs, barely giving you a squeeze. Seungcheol’s kisses are demanding and all consuming, bruising your lips as he swallows you whole. 

Parting, Chan kisses the corner of your mouth, hesitating and glancing over your shoulder where he can no doubt see Seungcheol. Seungcheol must reassure him, because Chan smirks and leans forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Your head falls back, lips parted. His tongue is rough against your skin as he tastes you, a mix of tongue and teeth working toward your neck. Your fingers twist in his hair, blunt nails scraping at his scalp and making him groan quietly. 

“She likes when you bite her a little,” Seungcheol supplies from behind you. You feel the couch shift as he moves closer, his warmth radiating toward you as he settles directly behind you. His voice makes you shiver when he says, “Right under her ear - yeah like that.” 

Chan’s teeth nip at the soft flesh under your ear and you keen, melting at his touch. He grows more confident at the sound, his hands drifting to your waist, squeezing and holding you tight. You lean backward into the heat of Seungcheol, trapped between the two of them. 

It makes you dizzy. Seungcheol is firm behind you, keeping you pressed toward Chan, who is kissing his way to your shoulder, eager for more of you. One of his hands runs up your side, sliding up your arm until it settles on the side of your neck, his fingers gently pulling you to give more access. 

You keen and Seungcheol laughs behind you, muttering, “Hear the little sounds she makes? She loves when you touch her neck.” 

“Mmmm.” Chan presses kisses to the tops of your shoulders, looking up at you through his glasses. “What else does she like?” 

“If you want to see her come apart, eat her out.” Chan moans, burying his face in your neck. You shiver, feeling his hot breath against your spit-slick skin. “Yeah?” Seungcheol laughs. “Dying to taste her, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Chan whispers. He lifts his head from your neck, breathing ragged as he looks at you, cradling your face in his hands. 

You look up at him through your lashes, dazed. He looks so good in the dim light of Seungcheol’s office, his hair a little disheveled, glasses a little eskew. 

“Do you want that?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushes back and forth across your jaw, pausing to brush along the corner of your lip. You nod eagerly, unable to find the words and tell him that is exactly what you want. “Fuck. Yeah. Okay.” 

Chan sinks to the ground. Seungcheol plants his foot against the coffee table, pushing it back slowly to give Chan room. The younger looks up at you reverently and you feel your breath catch, watching as Chan settles on his knees, hands reaching to brush gently up your calves.

His touch is like fire. It feels too hot in Seungcheol’s office, sweat collecting on the back of your neck and along your hairline. You squeeze your thighs together at Chan’s gentle touch and he grins up at you, keeping his fingers feather light and teasing as he skims them up your thighs toward your dress. 

Seungcheol leans you against him, pressing his lips to the side of your temple. Chan leans forward, placing an open mouth kiss on your knee. You twitch, knee nearly knocking him in the face. Seungcheol admonishes you softly, reaching down to pry your right leg open and drape it over his, resting his arm over your knee to keep you pried open.

Chan’s hands continue to caress your skin, the drag of his fingers driving you wild. You stare down at him, panting slightly as he looks up at you. He maintains eye contact as he drags his mouth to kiss your inner thigh, watching as you react with a sigh. 

He moves his mouth upward slowly, each kiss firm but gentle, his lips blazing a trail upward. You feel your core ache for him, a hot, throbbing need that makes you whine a little bit, shifting in Seungcheol’s grip. 

Chan pauses but Seungcheol promises, “She’s fine. She’s very needy.” 

A grin splits Chan’s face as he presses another kiss to the softness of your thigh, followed by biting gently. That gets a reaction out of you, your hips twitching upward and your hands shooting to grip the couch with one hand and Seungcheol’s forearm with the other. 

“She loves when you start slow,” Seungcheol murmurs. Chan nods, taking his elder’s guidance in step. His hands creep toward the hem of your dress, hesitating. “Go ahead.” 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when Chan pushes the hem of your dress upward. The newly exposed skin feels cold in Seungcheol’s darkened office. Chan bunches the fabric at your hips and Seungcheol reaches around the back of your waist to hold it in place. 

With one hand on your spread knee and the other locked around your waist, Seungcheol has you pinned. The thought makes your eyes flutter, head tilting back as you watch Chan drink you in, his eyes dropping to the lacy underwear.

His mouth resumes its curious travel, kissing the tops of your thighs as his fingers brush the edges of your underwear. You let out a breathy whine and he smiles but doesn’t stop this time, teasing the crease of your thighs with his devilish finger while he gives a harsh suck to your skin. 

Chan rests his chin atop your thigh, eyes focusing on the wet patch of your under. He dips a hand between your legs, pressing the flat of his thumb against the dark spot on the fabric. You give a high pitched whine, fidgeting in Seungcheol’s grip. Chan grins, wiggling his thumb back and forth a little to apply pressure to your clit.

It is heaven. It is hell. Chan’s eyes drift back and forth from where he teases you to your face, unable to decide which he likes watching more. Seungcheol watches him with a smirk, his hold on you like iron, hot breath fanning your ear as he whispers for you to behave for Chan. 

You want to. You want to more than anything else right now, completely forgetting about the party going on outside the office, forgetting the way you’d been afraid to ask Chan if he wants this, forgetting anything else but the look in Chan’s eyes as he hooks his fingers in your underwear and pulls them down.

Lacy fabric scrapes down your skin slow-soft. It is delicious torture. Chan handles you like you’re something precious, something to be loved and treated with care. Your thoughts turn to static, totally hypnotized by the way he peels your underwear from your legs and tosses them somewhere else. His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your glistening cunt, groaning low in the back of his throat at what he sees. 

Chan slides his hands under your thighs, dragging you toward him a little. Seungcheol helps, peppering your face with butterfly-soft kisses as he slides you down the couch. You’re nearly folded in half as Seungcheol adjusts himself so that he’s sitting behind you with you between his legs. He grabs your thighs, hooking them on the outer edges of his knees to keep you open for Chan, who slides closer, licking his lips. 

“Look how wet she is for you,” Seungcheol purrs. You glance up at him. His dark eyes are focused on Chan, mouth twitching in a smirk. “Start slow. She likes you to build up to it.” 

Chan glances at Seungcheol and nods before his eyes fall to you. Dark. Hungry. Wanting. To see your deepest desire reflected in Chan’s eyes makes you insane. You’d only guessed at his affection for you and Seungcheol, but the fierceness of it drives you wild. 

So does his mouth. Chan drags his mouth up your thighs, kissing delicately. You hold your breath, fixated on him as he audibly plants another kiss before he moves to your center, hesitating. You try not to squirm and move closer, try not to force yourself on his mouth.

He can tell. He gives you a cock grin, letting out a huff before dipping forward, running his tongue up your center and oh oh oh. Your head falls back against Seungcheol’s shoulder, breath locked in your chest. Chan’s tongue is warm and wet, sliding up and down your pussy at a leisurely pace.

Then he moans. Your fingers dig into Seungcheol’s thighs, making him hiss. He hooks his chin on your shoulder, watching as Chan’s tongue circles your aching clit slowly before dipping back down. 

You’re burning, melting, disintegrating. Pleasure ripples through you when Chan dips his tongue tentatively into your clenching hole. That earns a loud moan from you. Seungcheol quickly hushes you, reminding you that you can’t be loud with a harsh whisper. 

A whimper falls from your lips. Chan grunts, closing his eyes as he fastens his mouth to your cunt, suckling gently. You throb under his mouth. He looks up at you, eyes misty as he flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. 

“Like that,” Seungcheol encourages when you thrash. “She likes it kind of messy too - spit on it.” 

Chan is obedient. He dips his tongue into your cunt, gathering arousal before he lifts his mouth, smeared in your slick, and spits directly on your pussy. You let out a loud sound that is cut off by Seungcheol’s mouth on yours, stealing you in a devouring kiss. 

One hand shoots to Seungcheol’s forearm to cling to him, the other to Chan’s hair when he reattaches his mouth. He moans audibly against you, the sound buzzing right through you to the pit of your stomach. He redoubles his effort, licking and sucking at you vigorously now to match the pace of Seungcheol’s tongue. 

They both swallow you whole. It’s overwhelming the best way, Seungcheol pressing you into his chest as he steals the breath from your lungs, Chan pressing your legs further apart as he buries his face between your legs, little sounds of pleasure dripping from his mouth as he loses himself in you. 

Seungcheol parts with you for a moment, lips swollen and pink as he looks down at Chan and grins. He reaches down, running his fingers through Chan’s hair gently, making the younger groan. 

“Look at him,” Seungcheol coos. “He’s been dying to taste you, huh Chan?” 

“Mhmm.” Chan licks a hard stripe from top to bottom. “So fucking good.”

“Tell him how good he’s doing baby,” Seungcheol whispers, pressing his mouth to your ear. “He’s working so hard for you.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp as Chan sucks your clit hard. You thrash in Seungcheol’s lap but he holds you still. Chan pins you down too, fingers gripping your thighs as he gets greedier, flattening his tongue and whipping his head back and forth. “Fuck fuck fuck - Chan.” 

“Just like that, Chan.” Seungcheol keeps running his fingers through Chan’s hair affectionately. “She’s gonna come for you, right baby?” 

All you can manage is a nod. You’re beyond the capacity for words, feeling your orgasm twist low in your stomach as Chan works your toward its peak. It feels like he drags you there screaming, the pressure building as he keeps going and going and going-

You break. Seungcheol’s hand clamps over your mouth and you cry through his palm, hips twitching and legs straining against both of their hands as you cum hard. Chan doesn’t care, pressing even further, drinking you in as your clit pulses in his mouth. 

When you quiet down, Seungcheol lets go of your mouth, hushing you with soft kisses as you whimper. Chan’s tongue busies itself as he leisurely licks your thighs, catching stray drops of arousal. You sag against your boyfriend, panting. He rubs his hands up and down your aching thighs. 

“More,” Chan murmurs, words a little slurred as he presses a sloppy kiss to your thigh. He inches closer to your messy folds, hesitating. “Can you take more? Please tell me you can.”

You nod and Seungcheol hums, pleased. “She can.” 

Looking between your legs, you watch as Chan grabs his glasses and rips them off his face, tossing them somewhere behind him. Your stomach flips at the site, lips parted and gasping when he dives back in, fucking you with his tongue. 

“Shit,” you squeak, hands flying to his hair, wrapping your fingers in his locks and twisting. He doesn’t mind the sting, too focused on you. “Oh my god.”

Seungcheol chuckles darkly. “Fuck, he’s hot. Use your fingers, Channie.” 

Nodding eagerly, Chan complies. He’s eager to comply, bringing a hand up between your legs. You hiss when he slides a finger in, the glide easy from your first orgasm. He removes his mouth from you, panting and lips swollen as his eyes focus on where he gently fucks you with his finger. 

“Another,” Seungcheol recommends. 

Chan does. He slides another finger in, tilting his wrist so that they brush just right. You moan his name, throaty and worn. Chan hums happily, kissing his way back up to your clit where he wraps his lips, sucking gently as he sets a slow pace with his fingers. 

It only lasts for a few moments before his pace increases, feeling the way you squeeze tight around him, hearing the way your breath turns shaky and uneven, watching the way you continue to grow slick with sweat. 

He fixates on your face, sucking at you hungrily in time with his fingers, driving you toward another release. Seungcheol’s mouth finds your jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. Again you’re pulled between the two of them, feeling stretched thin and overwhelmed by their mouths.

“I’m gonna,” You gasp, shaking in their grip. They both can tell. Seungcheol bites your neck a little harder, sucking the soft skin between his teeth. Chan turns ravenous, nearly folding you in half as he pushes into you, the wet sounds from his mouth bracketed by your heavy breathing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Every muscle in your body squeezes with the force of your orgasm. You can’t breathe, stars exploding behind squeezed-shut lids, breath stuck in squeezed-tight lungs. You’re barely able to hear Seungcheol murmuring in your ear, only able to hear the high-pitched ringing as you hit the top of your high, suspended for a moment before you start to come down.

You go boneless against Seungcheol. You feel spent, sucking in breaths of air while Seungcheol rubs his hands up and down your arms and Chan presses butterfly-soft kisses to your inner thighs, his hands rubbing your calves. 

The three of you stay there like that for a bit, quiet in the dark of Seungcheol’s office with the distant singing of your coworkers. You feel a bit floaty and dreamy, stuck somewhere between nearly asleep and happily present. 

Chan shifts and you drop your eyes to him, seeing him looking around, a little unsure what to do. You and Seungcheol notice at the same time, both of you extending a hand to him. Chan’s smile is shy and tentative, taking both of your hands and letting you pull him to his feet to collapse on the couch next to you.

Immediately you squirm toward him, half falling out of Seungcheol’s lap to fall against Chan’s shoulder. He laughs, lifting his arms and hesitating for a second before he wraps them around you. His lips are pink and swollen, still covered in your arousal. 

“That,” you sigh. “Was better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it, though?” he asks, glancing at Seungcheol. “Both of you?”

“Mhmm.” Seungcheol leans forward and presses a kiss to the corner of Chan’s mouth, pink tongue darting out playfully. “Mmm. She tastes good.” 

Pink creeps up Chan’s neck and flushes his face. Seungcheol grins and you can tell he’s just as smitten as you, leaning his head against the back of the couch to watch Chan settle down. He drags his fingers in patterns on your arm, eyes losing focus. 

“Was this just for tonight?” Chan asks. There’s a note in his voice that makes you look up at him. You can tell he’s unsure, a little nervous. “Just for giving season or whatever?” 

Your voice is raspy with disuse. “Not if you don’t want it to be. Cheolie and I like you.” 

“Really?”

You lift a hand, brushing strands of hair back into his damp hairline. “Mhm. We want to keep you, if you’ll have us.” 

Chan chews on his bottom lip, contemplating. Seungcheol watches in silence, but you can tell by the way his fingers drum on your thigh that he’s nervous. He might exude calm and confident most of the time, but you know he hopes Chan will say yes - that he’s desperate for it. 

“I think I like that,” Chan says slowly, looking at you both. “I would like that, yeah.” 

Seungcheol grins, closing his eyes as he reaches over and runs a hand through Chan’s hair. “Good. Also - it’s always giving season at our house. So buckle up, Channie.” 

-

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[avatarofthearchives]

Considering how little Gerard Keay shows up in canon, his character is likely my favorite in the series. Mostly because of his recurring theme's centered around personal autonomy.

When Gerard was born he had expectations he never wanted placed on his shoulders. He never wanted to get involved with fears, or deal with monsters that "made him so afraid that he could have thrown up," but in the end, it was the love he had for the monster he was born from that kept him chained to this dark world.

Then, the monster died. In a way that was so traumatic even his love for her wasn't enough to keep him from running. For the first time, he had really stepped away from it all. And the consequence of that was once again his freedom. He got arrested for his Mother's death simply of the fact that it was too….weird. There was no real proof he did anything. But the world he lived in was so incomprehensible to those outside it that it didn't matter. He was charged for a crime he didn't commit and was only let out on a technicality.

Which left him once again with his Mother. Who had new and improved ways to emotionally manipulate him after he "failed" to help with her death. He was back right where he started, until Gertrude "freed" him by burning the pages.

But he still wasn't really free. While he was now following Gertrude instead of his Mother, he was still following, walking deeper into a world that he once wanted nothing to do with. And he stayed in that world until his untimely death.

He didn't go out in the "line of duty" like Gertrude, or Mary, or John, or Tim. His death was simple, and that was when he should gotten freedom for the first time in the life. But then he was yanked back the living world by being forcibly turned into a "monster manual" that was left behind and exploited.

It was only when John burned his page that he was finally set free. That's why John's final word's to him being "Rest in....Just rest." mean's so much to me. Because John doesn't tell Gerry what he should rest in. He just...let's him rest.

For the first time someone truly let's Gerry go, and it's likely one the first friends he ever had.

The story of Gerard Keay mean's everything to me. He is the most side character's of all time.

[helluverse-rewrites]

Random tidbits/headcanons

I mostly just made this because I think there's some things I forgot to put in the other posts so here you go Ig

Starting off with a big one, Millie proposed to Moxxie using sign language

Millie often translates for Moxxie when he's talking to others

Moxxie won't admit this, but it really means a lot to him when someone learns sign language for him. He grew in a place that told him that no one would learn such a thing just for a worthless, waste of space like him. So it contradicts what his father said to him when someone at least puts in the effort and tries

Not only is Sallie May trans, Millie now also has a trans brother

Verosika would probably listen to boyfriend asmr for shits and giggles

Asmodeus hates alpha male podcasters

In my rewrite, Moxxie is more apathetic than in canon, so the conflict in Murder Family is different. That's all I'm gonna say

Stella is the living embodiment of "I'm not just a regular mom, I'm a ✨cool mom✨"

Fizz has a shit tone of medical trauma

Octavia has crippling abandonment issues

^ this is because Stolas would constantly tell her as a kid when she would be crying "Cut this nonsense out or else I'm leaving you. For good." Stolas would also say he'd take Stella with her. So basically she thought that if she cried as a child, her parents would leave her

^ this is why she's so quiet and pretends she doesn't care about anything. She learned that everyone will leave her if she shows any emotion

Yeah she doesn't like to cry in front of people anymore (Stella is completely unaware of this btw)

She just bottles everything up in general

Stella will just accept anytime Stolas or Andrealphus yells or threatens her, but she'll attack you if you mention her daughter

After some character development, Fizz would be good friends with Moxxie I feel

^ They would play a game where they would see how much random shit they could say in sign language before people start to catch on how much they're bullshitting. They would be saying the word 'watermelon' over and over again. Everyone is confused while Millie and Asmodeus are laughing their asses off

If M&M were to have kids, they would definitely go for adoption (COUGHSINSMASCOUGH) also because Moxxie is trans so they wouldn't be able to have children biologically

^ also they're broke so they need more money before they even consider that

Millie often worries about Moxxie when she's not there to translate his sign language. It's not that she doesn't think he can handle himself, Moxxie has been surviving on his own for a long time before he met Millie. It's just that he has a tendency to force himself to talk when no one can understand what he's saying, and Millie knows it hurts and exhausts him

Millie's family adores Moxxie. I hate the trope of dad disapproves of daughter's boyfriend. It's just pretty annoying and oftentimes the boyfriend is the sweetest guy ever

Her family is the most accepting family in the Wrath Ring and upon first meeting them, Moxxie was certain they hated him

That was literally the opposite though, they even helped Millie set up the proposal. They just wanted Moxxie to be their in-law so bad

Striker is kind of an older brother figure to Millie, he used to have playdates with her when they were little

Stolas is the most powerful Goetia, which is something he brags about constantly

Asmodeus is a huge fucking nerd and loves reading

Moxxie and Blitzø constantly steals Millie's fidget toys for fun

Dw Millie thinks it's funny

That's all I can think about for now! If I think of anymore I'll do a part two

[shallowseeker]

via @monstermoviedean

Oh God, oh God, no one knows how important this is to me, and because it's Christmas, I can't stop myself venting again.

<cue the image of Raphael’s vessel>

DEAN: So is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?

CASTIEL: No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.

DEAN looks away.

5x03

///

Instead, we find Dean, incredibly hungry and incredibly tired. Even though he apparently already already told Cas he was gonna crash, Dean delays his own rest, taking a moment to check on Rowena (aww!) and to try to refuel.

14x15

//

But before Dean can even eat or catch up with Cas, enter Sam:

So, Cas steps in to mentor Sam, hoping Dean can try his hand at connecting with Jack and get some much-needed sleep in the process (not to mention, getting to eat)!

14x15

///

Status of the team:

Cas has the Empty deal hanging over his head, and he’s scrambling to solve these unsolvable problems while also giving his loved one/partner time to rest. (And lordy geez, no wonder Cas tries to spare Dean… Even if it backfires spectacularly, it’s understandable given everything that he’s seeing Dean go through here).

Dean was head-injured and psychologically wounded from being The AU Michael vessel for so long. He likely feels directly responsible for both the Rowena and Jack injuries, as well as all the AU hunter deaths. (Note: Conjecture, but I think we see the first glimmer of emotional despair/crosstalk of blame aimed at Cas which is… fascinating. Sam of course misses it entirely, thinking Dean mostly made the decision to stay for Sam.)

Rowena was similarly psychologically wounded to Dean. She become the AU Michael vessel hoping that, although Michael would not honor his word, she could be strong enough to save the day, or at least hold him off for a bit. Then she failed spectacularly, watching her hands kill everyone she helped save from Apocalypse World.

Jack is perhaps the most severely wounded of all, sacrificing his soul in a move so painful that Cas and Dean can barely face it, lingering in the space of denial and forlorn hope. (Jack’s eating, so he must have a soul left, right? Donatello said he’s fine, so he’s fine, right?)

But Sam is spiraling so hard over his own losses, the above doesn’t even seem to occur to him. Sam has inflated responsibility, but it’s still so self-focused, I think?

Castiel: Maybe. *shoots Sam a knowing look after the case gets more complicated, and Sam yawns*

Sam: I'm good. I'm good, honestly.

Castiel: *dryly* Yeah, I know. Everybody's good. But after this, maybe Dean's right. *Then, chastising* You need to rest.

Sam: Can't.Just because I'm tired doesn't mean the monsters are gonna stop, you know? Doesn't mean anything. Plus we don't have as many Hunters as we used to.

In risking his own safety, Sam also risks the safety of those that love him. Cas is trying to mentor Sam, because Cas was crushed by the weight of his own authoritarian leadership, and like Sam, Cas too wanted to reject leadership, abdicate responsibility, and run away, fearful of “destroying everything again.”

///

However, even after snapping out of the need to run away, Sam only acknowledges his mistake in running Dean ragged and his own pain. I’m a little reminded of that moment in The End, where Sam calls Dean in a panic about his own destiny re: angel vessels, but doesn’t lead with empathy for Dean’s plight.

Sam: I hate this place right now. I hate it. Everywhere I look, I see them. I see Maggie.I guess that's why, uh -- why I was so desperate to get out of here, why I kept running us ragged. But I got to stop that. I-I can't keep running. I -- This is my home. This is our home. Dean, I think I just need some time.

Dean: *assessing, maybe a little disappointed* Okay.

Dean, seeing that Sam is very plugged into his own mistakes and emotional pain, but still isn’t considering the plight of the rest of the team, disengages.

Sam’s empathy for others is (404 Not Found)?

You ever just remember Dean kept an archangel trapped in his mind for months on nothing but sheer willpower?

[thechthonicherbalist]

My humble Altar

Before I put it away for the winter holidays and local solstice celebrations, here's my little pop-up altar, complete with offerings. Sharing in response to my friend @jehan-the-necromancer who has been curious for a while now and the lovely @chthoniclakewitch who asked about it.🥰 (I thought I might as well put the pics in a post, I hope you two don't mind being tagged. 🙈)

Mostly I'm working with Apollo and Aphrodite, Gods of Love, Sexuality, Queerness, Healing, Muse, Poetry, Inspiration and Beauty! The reason is mostly my own queer gender identity and sexuality, as well as a life-long love for art, music and writing.

But also my experiences with CSA, depression and hurt are relevant in regards to many of these topics, as well as the struggles that come as a result. Apollo and Aphrodite give me security, capacity to practice self-love and consider the love others have for me, when anxiety threatens to lie to my heart and make me doubt it. They are also who I turn to for comfort and where I seek refuge when these things get hurt or when it's difficult to navigate them. And they are the ones I pray to, when I want to extend my love to others or when I hope to see people I carry in my heart protected, healing and cared for. Especially in situations where I directly help a person with these things... Aphrodite helps me learn how to think, act, speak and connect with deep love and care for the human essence. Apollo helps me learn how to see the light and beauty of things and how to tap into my healing potential through creative expression. Both these things are life long journeys.

I also pray to Ares and Hecate. Ares because I am a very sensitive person who experiences others and their own emotions very deeply and easily gets very deeply impacted by them. It can be like I absorb the emotions of others and then have to work through them and understand them in all detail myself, even if they don't even fathom that or don't have to do that themselves. So I often carry lots of fear, sadness and hurt in my heart, or need to untangle the anger of others or sometimes also myself, because it mostly servers as a protective response. Simultaneously I have a profound inability to take in and hold the emotion of anger very well, due to complex childhood trauma where people with unresolved anger issues would lash out in life- and safety-threatening ways due to their lack of self-control and and cause both physical and emotional damage. Therefore it was equally life-threatening in this environment to express anger or any other emotion or to protect myself by removing myself from situations that overwhelmed me. To this day, there is nothing more terrifying to me than a person who cannot control their anger, who cannot communicate an issue, fear or a hurt in other ways than by lashing out. It still feels life-threatening, it gives me mortal anxiety and I can't process and react to that in real time. I will always shut down and struggle to comprehend even my own thoughts and memories in this moment. I am reduced to pure fear and survival instincts at this point. And it took me many years to learn from Ares that I am allowed to protect myself, guard my peace and well-being by taking breaks when this become too much, especially when I'm under intentional attack.

Ares reminds me that it is okay to feel and express my own anger, but also that I do not want to follow examples of toxic, unhealed anger expression, by reminding me of the warrior's honor. He reminds me that unfiltered emotion equals war and destruction. And in collaboration with Aphrodite and Apollo, that such things have no place in healthy, loving connections. That there is always a hurt or a fear underneath such strong and violent emotions, that seek to be protected. And that it is important to step back, to process my anger, yes, but to write it down, over and over until I am calm and understand the essence of what I want to express, without hurting the ones I love. And that others are equally responsible to do moderate their own emotions and that I don't have to expose myself if they have not been responsible enough to put in the work and effort it takes to learn how. Ares is also who teaches me to enforce boundaries. That I am worthy of divine and earthly protection and justice. That it is okay to fight injustice and mistreatment, instead of quietly tolerating it. That my well-being, my rights and my existence are worth fighting for. That my life and I am worth fighting for. Worth defending. That if nobody stands up for me, it is okay if I do that. That peace is fought for, negotiated over, not merely tolerated. He and Apollo are who I pray to, for strength and endurance in my battle against depression, chronic illness and now cancer. He is the first god I ever prayed to, who I ever recognized as a god, when I was a child.

And Hecate is... Hecate. The mother, the maiden and the crone. The witch goddess. Protector of the crossroads. Those who know her, know her. Those who do not... fear her. I pray to her for protection, for guidance. And to help me heal the witch-wound. The wound all people carry who have been othered or unjustly accused and punished out of fear for their knowledge and powers, rather than being honoured, heard and understood. She is also known as the goddess of Boundaries, the Underworld, Plants and Herbalism as well as the Moon. I'd like to say that my connection with her is much more... obscure and yet personal than with any of the other gods. I refer to her as mother, when I pray.

[mister0ctopus]

apart-mental issues part 1

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader

Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook. This story has three parts.

PART 1 of 3: burrito warrior fuck my life 5 stars thin walls tangerines what's in the box? mission: possible perfect! easy fix

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbor JK, Enemies to Lovers, Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: inspired by when i moved to my new apartment and my next door neighbor wasnt jungkook :(

🐙 Masterlist / AskMeeeeee!!!

🌯 burrito warrior

You did it!

After months of endless scrolling, awkward tours, and disappointments, you finally found the one—the perfect apartment!

No roommates? Check!

Near the bus stop, grocery stores, coffee shops? Check!

Near your school and work? Check!

Modern apartment with high-tech amenities? Yeah, not check. The building’s slightly dated exterior gave away its age, but hey, it was well-maintained and had that cozy, lived-in charm. So,

Vibes? Check!

It’s your first night in your new apartment, surrounded by a sea of sealed boxes ((except for a mattress you’d laid on the floor). You feel accomplished. The drive from your old place was a nightmare, and you’ve got exactly five boxes with you, mostly clothes, books, and some appliances. Everything else is apparently still “on its way”, thanks to online shopping apps! You’re so ready for this fresh start. New apartment, new life!

You’d even spotted your next-door neighbor earlier—a tall, cute guy with arm tattoos and a sharp jawline. An eye candy wouldn’t hurt. He didn’t seem to notice you as he checked his mail while walking to his door, and you were glad, given your limited social skills.

After a much-needed shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel and waited for your food delivery. Starving, tired, and ready to crash, you finally heard a knock at the door.

AAAhhh!!! My buritooo!!!

You had added a note to your order to leave the food by your door. When the knocking stopped, you sprinted to the door, too hungry to think straight.

You opened the door to grab the paper bag, but just as your fingers brushed the edge, your foot caught on the doorframe, and in an instant, you were slipping. Your arms flailed, grasping for anything to steady yourself, but it was too late. A loud thud sounded as your feet hit something heavy, followed by another crash.

Disoriented, you blinked and found yourself on the floor, head resting awkwardly against the door. Your towel clung to your damp body as you processed the scene: the potted plant was on the ground, soil scattered everywhere—and somehow, all over you. You groaned in disbelief, covered in dirt, your towel the only thing that kept you from being fully exposed.

Shit. Fuck. Great.

You didn’t move, your eyes squeezed shut in disbelief. The floor was cold against your skin, and as you stayed perfectly still, wishing this wasn’t real, a door swung open.

Your next-door neighbor.

Tattoos, sweatpants, an oversized shirt, messy hair—and ogling at the crime scene with his round, shocked eyes.

"What’s going on? You okay?"

His voice was calm but obviously concerned, which, honestly, was fair considering the sight before him: you, lying on the floor covered in dirt, a broken pot wedged against your feet, soil scattered everywhere. One hand was desperately clutching your towel—because, of course, dignity—and the other was gripping a bag of burritos. Oh, and your hair was still wet.

It’s like a storybook with no text—just look at the scene and you’ll get the plot.

“Oh, uh…” you gestured at the mess. “Yeah, fine. Just… gardening at midnight. It’s a thing I do.”

He leaned against the doorframe, huffing. “Cool hobby. Very niche.”

You huff.

"You need help? Didn’t break your spine or something? Here." He didn’t wait for a response, just offered his hand like it was the most casual thing in the world.

But you were too embarrassed to process any of it. You didn’t want help, didn’t want to exist, didn’t want to be perceived at all.

“Nope, I’m good. Just gonna lay here for a while.”

You wished you could just sink into the floor.

"Alright," he said, shrugging as if he’d offered you a hand, not a whole rescue mission. "If you say so. Holler if you need help, I’m right next door, as you can clearly see.”

He disappeared back into his apartment, leaving you on the floor with shame, dirt, and your burrito.

Never speaking to anyone here again? CHECK!

Once the coast was clear, you carefully got up, trying to shake the soil off your body, your towel clinging to you like it’s the only thing keeping you together. With a frustrated sigh, you reached for the door handle, but as your hand gripped it and you gave it a shake, you realized—it was locked.

You rattled it again, more forcefully this time, but no. It was still locked.

Locked out.

In a towel.

At midnight.

With a burrito in one hand.

“Fuck my life.”

🖕🏼fuck my life

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

You paced the hallway, trying to come up with the best course of action.

Minutes later, your next-door neighbor’s door opened again.

“You still out here?” His voice was casual, and you saw him standing there, now in a gray pajama set, holding a water bottle, looking at you like you were the weirdest creature he’d ever seen.

You tried to play it cool. “Oh, just, uh… admiring the hallway. Great maintenance work here. Big fan of this paint job.”

He tilted his head, clearly amused. He narrowed his eyes, “You locked yourself out, didn’t you?”

You stared at him.

Yes, observant king. Just goooo…

You groaned. But you try to sound optimistic “Yes, I locked myself out. But it’s fine! I’ll just wait here for the landlord in the morning.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head as his eyes scanned you up and down. "At midnight? In a towel? Freezing?"

You gave him a pained smile, doing your best to hold it together despite the chill creeping through your towel.

Leaning against the doorframe, he gave you a look that said he was mildly bothered by your situation. "I’ll call the landlord, but knowing Mr. Kang, he’s probably gonna pick up in the morning." He paused, then added, “Wanna borrow some clothes or something? You’re gonna freeze out here."

Before you could respond, he vanished inside his apartment. A few moments later, he reappeared with a pair of gray sweatpants and a hoodie, phone pressed to his ear.

"He’s not answering, but I texted him. Hopefully, he’ll see it when he wakes up. They should be able to send someone as early as 6 am.”

As soon as you had the clothes in hand, you quickly threw on the hoodie. It was so big, it reached your knees, so you skipped the pants altogether. It smelled so good you wonder what laudry detergent he used. Meanwhile, he was still fiddling with his phone, his eyes focused on the screen.

“You have no one to call?” he asked, clearly trying to come up with a plan to help.

You didn’t have anyone to call. Your friends and family were either overseas, or hours away, but you didn’t want to get into that. So instead of answering him, you decided to with your genius idea and ask the question that had been floating in your mind.

“I haven’t asked for your name. I’m YN,” you said, offering an awkward smile.

“Jungkook,” he replied, his attention still on his phone.

“Jungkook,” you repeated, testing the name on your tongue. Then, with a serious face, you asked him, “Jungkook, would you be able to help me if I asked you to break my door down?”

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 5 stars

"Alright, let's do it," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Jungkook was game. No hesitation. When you casually suggested the idea of him breaking down your door, he didn’t even blink—like he was waiting for you to say it.

He popped his phone into his pocket and strolled over to the door like he did this sort of thing on the regular.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he replied, smirking like this was the most casual thing to do. "If you want the door broken, we’ll break the door. Let’s keep it quick, though. We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“Alright, door’s all yours,” you said, stepping aside and plopping down on the floor.

Jungkook was already squatting by the door, eyeing the lock with way too much focus. You, on the other hand, were sitting there, happily devouring your cold burrito.

He took a step back, raised his shoulder, and rammed into the door.

It only took one, or maybe two, solid hits before you heard the satisfying crack of the door frame giving way. The door literally flew open, and you casually took another bite of your burrito.

He stood there, hands on his hips, clearly proud of himself. "Easy peasy, lemon squeezy." He glanced at you, asking, “You good?”

You gave him a thumbs-up, chewing slowly. “Yeah, excellent work. Five stars. Thank you.”

With a grin, he answered you with a thumbs-up and said, "Welcome to the neighborhood," before heading back to his apartment.

You strolled into your now wide-open apartment, finishing off your burrito.

That night, you used some boxes to keep the door “locked.”

The next morning, you opened the door to find your landlord standing there with a toolbox. He blinked at the door, taking in the wreckage.

You shrugged. “Sorry. Had no choice. Next door helped me out.”

He scratched his head before getting to work on the lock. When he finished, he gave you a pointed look. “Just… try not to have any more emergencies with the door, okay?”

You smiled. “I’ll try my best.”

🎧thin walls

You started to settle into your new place. There were still a few pieces of furniture you hadn’t assembled yet, but it was starting to look homey and feel cozy. You adjusted to juggling school and work, finishing the classes you postponed last year to finally graduate.

But every time you remember your first night, you wince.

Almost naked, dirt all over you, lying on the floor like you’re auditioning for a disaster movie. Embarrassing. Okay, fine, the burrito part was kinda fun, especially when he casually broke down the door…

You even reenacted the part where you were lying on the floor, just to see how ridiculous you looked.

The incident kept replaying in your head, and the more you thought about it, the worse it seemed.

You couldn’t shake how embarrassing it was.

You were thankful to Jungkook, sure. He basically saved you, like some kind of real-life Spider-Man, but why, instead of just thanking him like a normal person, are you avoiding him?

You’ve been dodging him for weeks now, and every time you even think about it, you feel like sinking with the floor.

And because you had been avoiding him, you became familiar with your next-door neighbor’s usual activities—what time he left for work, when he normally came home, whether he had visitors over…

Sometimes he’d have friends over. You assumed they were playing and/or drinking because of the cheers, banter, and sometimes you’d hear them wrestling (?), based on the violent slaps or panicked “ouch, ouch, I’m sorry, please put me down, Jungkookaaa!!!”

You knew he had the same friend group because you had already recognized them by their distinct laughs. There’s the windshield laugh, and then there’s the one with the high-pitched, sharp, hysterical laugh that’s always accompanied by clapping.

Thin walls.

They could be pretty loud, but they usually wrapped up before around 11 pm.

One night, when you had to wake up early for class the next day, you were kept awake by a girl’s high-pitched, giggly voice.

“Oh my god, Jungkook, stopppp,” she squealed, clearly not wanting him to stop at all.

Then came the sounds you really didn’t need to hear—the soft creak of a mattress, her breathy moans, and a muffled, “Fuck, you’re so good,” that made your stomach churn.

You groaned, stuffing a pillow over your head. “Fucking hell!”

This continued until dawn.

The next night, it happened again. Different girl, same obnoxious volume. This one was louder, theatrical, like she was auditioning for something.

“Jungkook!” she gasped, her voice echoing through the walls. “Right there, oh my god—”

You shoved your headphones in, blasted “Deep Layered Brown Noise,” and flipped a middle finger at the wall separating your rooms.

This kept happening for two weeks! TWO WEEKS!!! You were so done. Angry and ready to lash out, you thought, God, give me a break!!!

🍊tangerines

You were never the confrontational type. You were more of the passive-aggressive girlie... until you exploded.

So instead of confronting him, you carried on avoiding him. That was until you ran into him on the stairs, arms loaded with groceries in two paper bags.

“You need help?” he asked.

“Nope, I’ve got it,” you lied, seconds before one of the bags tore, and your tangerines scattered across the floor, some rolling down the staircase.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head. “You good?”

“Totally. Love chasing fruit in public,” you deadpanned, scrambling to collect the scattered tangerines.

He helped anyway, gathering what he could into his hands. “Here.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. You spotted a few tangerines still rolling down the stairs but decided it was fine. You could survive being vitamin C deficient.

“You’re still getting used to this ‘living alone’ thing, huh?” he said, amused.

“Yeah, well, I’ll never get used to having loud neighbors,” you shot back, surprising even yourself.

He froze, just as surprised as you. After a moment of thought, he bit his bottom lip and turned to you. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could hear.”

“Well, now you know. Thin walls. Thin fucking walls,” you snapped, your weeks’ worth of irritation spilling over before you stormed off to your apartment.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Jungkook holding the remaining tangerines he’d picked up from the stairs.

You could tell he was about to say something—his mouth opened slightly—but you snatched the fruits, avoided his gaze, and quickly muttered, “Thanks,” before shutting the door.

📦 what's in the box?

You were just about to shut down from exhaustion as you reached your door after your late-night shift when you noticed a package sitting by your door.

A brown box.

Thinking it was just one of the things you’d ordered, you picked it up and fiddled with your keys to get inside.

But just as you turned the knob, the door to your neighbor’s apartment opened. You panicked, your hands hastily sliding the keys in.

Oops. You'd already locked eyes with Jungkook.

He was standing there, grinning like a devil…

What’s he up to now?

In his hand is also a brown box, and based on the way it was crinkling at the top, it looked like it had already been opened, and you could see pink ruffles peeking through.

He strolled over to you, extending the box, and casually said, “There’s been a mix-up. This was delivered to me. I opened it thinking it was mine since I was expecting a package today, and it didn’t have a name on it, just the unit number. Sorry if I missed that.”

“Uh... okay?” you muttered, still not fully processing what was going on.

“I believe that is mine,” he smiled, casually gesturing to the box you were holding.

“Oh, okay,” you muttered, quickly swapping boxes with him. But the moment your fingers wrapped around your box and your eyes landed on the contents inside, your jaw dropped.

The entire box was full of pink toys—pink dildos, pink handcuffs, a penis-shaped headband, a pink gag, and… was that a penis-shaped stress ball? Who even invents this stuff? Genius! But oh my god.

You checked the box for any details, but nope—no name, just your unit number and address.

“It’s for my friend,” you blurted defensively, but your voice trailed off as the absurdity of explaining yourself hit you. Why are you explaining?

“Sure it is.”

You didn’t have to look at Jungkook to know his grin was now a full-on, teeth-baring smile. You could feel it.

Without saying another word, you quickly turned your back on him and hurriedly unlocked your door.

Once inside, you grabbed your phone, and angrily dialed the number for the suspect—

“Heyyy!” came the cheerful voice of Hwasa on the other end.

“Hwasa, I swear to God!” you started, feeling the panic rise in your chest. “Why did you send bridal party package to my new apartment?? We all agreed to send it to you!! Oh my God, my neighbor opened it, because our package got mixed up! He saw all those freakin dildos! Also, why didn’t they put a name on it?!”

“Girl, calm down! Why you panicking like this?” Hwasa said, her voice as chill as a cucumber. “First of all, I didn’t order it. It was Jen! Or was it Stace? Whatever! And it’s a discreet store, so they don’t slap your name on the box.”

“Make sure to fix this, okay?” you said, voice high-pitched with stress. “Send all orders to YOU from now on! I’m going to die of embarrassment here!”

“Oh my God, chill out! Why you so pressed about this neighbor seeing your fun box? What’s the deal, huh?” Hwasa teased, a mischievous grin in her voice. “Wait—hold up, is he cute? Is that why you’re shy shy?”

“I’ll tell you everything at the party, okay?” you huffed, trying to shake off the embarrassment. Then, you switched gears, like the best bridesmaids you are. “But seriously, we need to make sure Aera doesn’t suspect anything about her bridal shower, okay?”

🎯 mission: possible

Avoiding Jungkook became a serious mission. You had your reasons—perfectly rational reasons, mind you. It wasn’t like you were being dramatic or anything. It was just reason upon reason stacking up like a Jenga tower, each one reminding you why you needed to stay away from him and make sure nothing else added to the pile.

But humor me, you silently asked the universe: why did every encounter with him have to be either embarrassing or irritating?

Fortunately, you knew his schedule by now (thanks to the thin walls, but screw you still): he left just as you were getting up for school, and by the time you came home after work, it was late enough that he was probably already asleep.

No run-ins, no more awkward exchanges.

For three glorious weeks, your plan worked. You didn’t see him. Not once. It was bliss.

Lofi hip hop radio chill.

Jungkook-free, stress-free.

Perfect.

☕️ perfect!

It was one of those days that felt like it had lasted a year. Work was exhausting, your studies were an endless grind, and everything was going wrong. You got home, drained, and just wanted to curl up with a giant cup of coffee to prepare for your next round of studying.

But of course, your coffee maker had decided to just... stop working. Or something. And you had run out of instant coffee. Perfect.

You stood there, staring at it, willing it to work, until you finally snapped.

“Are you seriously kidding me?!” you screamed at the broken appliance, as though it would suddenly decide to come to life and apologize.

Frustrated, you suddenly craved some air, so you grabbed your trash and decided to throw it out—along with the useless coffee maker—and let your anger loose in the dumpster.

But frustration quickly morphed into full-blown rage, and for a moment, you felt like you wanted to fight someone. You were so angry that tears pricked at your eyes, as though crying was the only way to release it. But you wouldn’t.

So, instead, you kicked the garbage can. Only to hit your toes, causing you to squat in pain.

Now you were laughing, because the universe clearly hated you. Yes, definitely Mercury in retrograde. Nothing was fucking working!!!

And then, you heard footsteps approaching. You turned, and—of course—it was Jungkook.

Of all the days.

He gave you a concerned look. “You… okay?” he asked, tossing his trash into the large green bin.

“I’m fine. Just… you know, enjoying the ambiance. Haven’t really explored this part of the building.”

He stared at you, clearly not buying it. “Right. Well, if you need anything... I’m just next door.”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded, because, hey, if he didn’t see you having a full-on mental breakdown, it didn’t happen, right?

He didn’t see it, right?

🍬 easy fix

The next morning, you woke up with a headache and an overwhelming sense of dread, bracing yourself for another long day. You got ready, but as you stepped out of your door, you froze.

There, sitting neatly beside it, was your coffee maker. Placed in a box, looking all shiny and clean.

And taped to it was a note, written in neat, handwritten scrawl: “It was an easy fix – JK.”

You blinked at it for a solid thirty seconds. What the hell?

You picked up the coffee maker and set it back where it belonged, plugged it in, and saw the ON button light up. You stood there, clutching your chest, staring at the note.

Jungkook had fixed your coffee maker. Just like that. He never had to, but he did. Out of the kindness of his heart?

This was... sweet? Too sweet?

And now, you were feeling things—things you weren't supposed to feel. Things like gratitude mixed with an embarrassing amount of attraction.

Listen... don’t judge, okay? If you’re a child who grew up with busy parents, barely seeing them, and left to tend to yourself, acts of service like this are dangerous.

Because they make you feel important. And loved. And other things you’d rather not name because it’s better that way.

But, you’re feeling things.

And it's making you uncomfortable.

1/3

a/n: lmk in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what you think! <3 Thank you and happy holidays if you’re celebrating! :)

-🐙

[matrixbearer2024]

Also how old are the Stan twins by the time Dipper and Mabel are 12? I’m assuming they’re in college but feel free to correct me.

By the time Dipper and Mabel are 12, the Stan Twins are out of college(technically). If we place the AU in 2024(they were born in 2003) they're already 21, and considering that most undergraduate programs could typically last 2-6 years- their undergrad courses (BSBA[Bachelor of Science in Business Administration] for Stan and BS(CMB)[Bachelor of Science in Biology with specialization in Cell and Molecular Biology] for Ford) are 4 year courses. They haven't been delayed or are late in any educational progress so they've only got a year left of undergrad.

They study in Graviton University Oregon, because I didn't have gravity falls "exist" technically. The town exists and that's where the university is, just more urbanized and without any of the wtf weird creatures that reside in the town from canon.

By the way, the niblings haven't been born yet considering that Shermie isn't even married yet. I plan on Shermie getting married by new year of 2025 and settling down in Piedmont with his girl, and the niblings will be born the year after around the same time the Stan Twins finally finish undergrad.

That's not the last of it though since they both still plan on moving up to masters and Ford wants to get a Phd(he starts with one and then starts collecting them like Pokémon) and it's mostly where they diverge paths as Stan throws himself into more of accounting/enterprenurial and Ford into researcher/biologist.

I don't really think Stan uses his knowledge on business too much at the start however since I do plan on him being scouted for a sports team(Haven't decided between basketball or baseball yet) before he graduates and while building his career as an athlete he finishes his masters(he takes 3 years to do it instead of the usual 2).

Ford had his fun in undergrad, so he fully commits to studying at this point and like in canon is pretty damn advanced compared to the rest of his peers. The curriculum and subject weights have definitely shifted from canon but I still do think it would only more or less take him 7-8 years to get his first doctorate.

By the time the niblings are 12, the Stan twins are 34, Sherm's 42.

Stan's spotlight as an athlete is waning and he's mostly helping run Fidds' family business, he's practically acting CEO in Fidds' place and is very comfortable with the pay he's getting. Stan wasn't really hardcore into sports anyway, he just took the opportunity because it presented itself to him and frankly he's okay with that. He starts drawing comics again as a hobby and with Fidds' help eventually becomes a comic-book artist part time since a businessman is his main gig post sports stardom. Much like some iconic artists and writers in DC and marvel, he ends up joining them when people like the series he puts out and the more "retro" artstyle.

Ford is making innovations left and right in the realm of genetics and biotechnology ever since graduating at 30 and he's got Fidds and Bill to help him with the more techy parts of his work. Ford hasn't stopped studying entirely though and honestly collects honorary PhDs to keep himself well rounded, not to mention he consistently attends seminars or science conferences to keep on top of the newest discoveries or updates to what's going on in the world. It wasn't his dream or intention of becoming one of the "greats" that go down in history but he really might at his pace, it's not something he thinks or cares about though.

You could argue that their life is practically being fast-tracked here but honestly, I think the pace fits them. It's a lot less chaotic compared to canon but considering how driven these two are, I think it's a pretty comfortable pace.

By the way, despite the busy life and all that- Ford tries his best to go to all of Stan's games live even when Shermie or Caryn miss it, despite the fact he doesn't really know anything that's going on just which team his brother's playing and if he's winning. Similarly, when Ford is called to give conferences to explain his findings or research Stan is more than happy to fly out to where he is and sit in just to give his support despite not knowing a damn or understanding whatever the hell his brother is talking about LOL

They're still very close considering that they didn't ever have a fight that tore them apart, they respected each other's wishes and interests and just talked. They always talked. I suppose that's ultimately what makes the big difference.

[acupofinkedblood]

Skateboard x worrisome reader

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

• Let’s get one thing straight and the other one not. First of all, for some reason you have been smitten by this self-proclaimed king of the Skatepark — which is actually true to some extent — that is also the guy who wants to impress everyone with his skating skills even when it comes with him landing right on his face. As for the other thing: With all due respect, what did you see in that guy? His charm? His demeanor? His face card? Well, list all the things you love about him if you want. Skateboard isn’t actually that bad, he’s still a lovable guy to you. Especially when he is literally your boyfriend. But if you say he’s a nice guy who only does silly things with no bad motives then I’m going to hold your hand before shaking you back into reality

• Did you know he is the leader of his very own gang, or were you completely unaware of it? If it’s the latter, then I don’t blame you. Like, just look at him, there is no way anyone could have guessed that he is that big of a hotshot in Playground. He doesn’t seem to take anything seriously that much, so it does seem like a surprise to you when knowing that. To know that your boyfriend who is also coincidentally a gang leader despite his laid-back attitude sure does sound like something that only happens in a dream, but then again, that’s just how he is. Maybe he does tell you before but you can’t really hear it clearly, or he just straight up forgot to inform you about his gang. Well, now you know

• Seriously, Playground isn’t a place that should be jokingly considered to live in safety or just stay there for a short while in general. To be able to live in Playground without losing a limb is beyond impressive. Violence and chaos are lurking in every corner of the region itself. Moreover, because it’s Windforce’s territory, not even the Banland’s police force dares to interfere anything that is going on inside Playground at all. It’s understandable if some demons decide that it’s best to move to another place due to the jeopardy of that place, they do it for their own safety after all. That place is pretty much a hellhole stimulation for newcomers

• When you first met Skateboard, you were a bit taken back when knowing that he was actually a Playgrounder. It’s nothing personal, but you aren’t deaf. You have definitely heard about the rumors surrounding that factor yourself. If you keep an eye on the news, maybe you might see a few robberies or accidents caused by Playgrounders mostly. Okay, judging people by their factor wasn’t the right thing you should do, sometimes the stereotype can be wrong after all. However, couldn’t help yourself but felt like you should put your guard up around Skateboard. At least before you know that you can trust him

• And he managed to just do that. Not only did he succeed in earning your trust fair and square, he also won your heart in the process as well! His laid-back demeanor caught you off guard. Aside from Boombox, he was probably the first good impression you had of Playgrounders for quite a while. Sure, he was rather cocky and full of himself sometimes, but you knew that Skateboard just wanted to have fun doing so. At least you haven’t seen him dragged anyone down in the mud before, so you assumed that he wasn’t that in the category gangster’s stuff, only a troublemaker — Because like I said before, who would have thought Skateboard out of all people was a gangster? — or at least, he didn’t get involved in it too much

• And now you just realized how wrong you were when making that assumption, eh? Because not only is your boyfriend belongs in a gang, but he has built quite the name for himself as the leader of said group as well. Skateboard is full of surprises, isn’t he? Pick up your jaw sweetie, I know it’s hard to believe, but that’s the truth about your boyfriend who you think that doesn’t have much of a braincell. Hell, even I don’t understand how is he the leader, so just bear with me

• Of course, the moment you realize that about your boyfriend, you have mixed feelings that you can’t really name it all. But there is this one feeling that you know damn well that is there inside your heart: Worry. You are worried about your own safety, but you are also concerned about his safety even more. SFOTH above, who knows what sort of danger that is attached to this line of work he is dealing with almost daily? You can only imagine, and it sends a chill down your spine

• Sure, you know Skateboard is more than capable of defending himself against whatever life throws at his direction. Trust me when I say that Skateboard is stronger than most people give him credit for. You gotta have a deadly grip to use your board to beat the living shit out of someone almost immediately while still keep it in your hand without slipping away, not to mention the muscles he has built in during his time skating and fighting, especially on his legs. He is toned — although it isn’t that obvious, probably a sleeper build — but you know that he can beat asses up if he wants. But that doesn’t make you less of a worrywart than you are, does it?

• It’s not like you’re underestimating him, no no. But you’re afraid of what if he overestimates his own ability and bite more than he can chew. Gang’s activities are what make you worried most about him though. They aren’t technically the safest to some extent: From fighting, to doing drugs or drinking the night away, then back to illegal deeds before it starts leading back to violence again. You have heard enough about how most people who have died in Playground were involved in gangs’ fights whether they are a just a civilian or not, you don’t want your boyfriend to be the next. Your worries are valid, considering that you only wish him a proper safety

• When he comes home all injured again, that’s when you have the chance to step into the scene with a medical first aid kit and your typical lecture to his reckless behavior. He has lost count how many times have you brought up this topic ever since you knew he was a gang leader. Hell, he has mesmerized your words because of how much you keep repeating it in his ears. Skateboard might probably click his tongue when you mention his broken horns that he has to wear a pair of fake ones to hide it as a point of how dangerous it can be, he will argue back with his excuse on it’s just a minor accident that happened years ago when he was still a rookie. Now look at him, he knows himself better now. He can take responsibility of his own actions and the mistakes that come with it. The gang needs him after all

• Skateboard usually jokes about your overprotective behavior towards him, although it’s obvious that he can take care of his own bullshit. But he is just that: relaxed, borderline careless, a bit cocky though always looking for entertainment around him. He doesn’t really want to stop, he is quite the adrenaline junkie after all. You know damn well that you can’t talk him out of this life, so at least all you can do is to get some sense of self-protection into that thick helmet of his. You’re not babying him, you’re just looking out for him in distress. You know him well, and it’s better for you to just say it over and over again so it will stay inside his mind rather than an unwanted accident

• To say that there aren’t arguments between the two of you because of that is unrealistic. You two have your own points of view that you wish to keep, and it will lead to conflict. Knowing Skateboard, he will walk out first before the conversation goes too far beyond his control. He does that because he needs time to think for himself too. Fuck, Skateboard knows that you’re worried, but you’re going to be the death of him if you keep keeping that attitude up. He loves you, he really does. And as much as he hates it, you have a logical point even when it’s completely against his idea at first. Skateboard will try his best to figure a way to help balance the situation between the two of you, and he won’t mind asking for help from his close friends or even his fellow gang’s members for that purpose. Have some faith in him, he wants the best for the two of you so that you both can reach an agreement

• In the end, believe me when I say that he does understand your point to some degree. It’s just that he doesn’t want you to think that he’s going to bid you a goodbye after dying in a gang fight or something. He knows better than just sticking his head into serious situations which he knows that it will be the end for him. With a few peacemakers and his sincere promises to keep his head on his neck, you finally get over your anxiety and just accept his style of life. Though you can still be such a mother hen sometimes, but not too extreme like before anymore. Skateboard can live with that. He doesn’t mind you nagging him here and there sometimes after all

• You have soon come into terms with his lifestyle. He promises that he will keep you updated on how is he at the moment so you can give your heart a break from exhausting it off by pacing back and forth in your place while you overthinking some stuff that might happen. Skateboard can be so unserious quite often though. Imagining him face-timing you just so he can show off the pile of people he has dragged around because they dare cause problems inside his territory. Don’t worry, he won’t show you the details of it, it’s more like how he tells you to stop worrying because he gets his own strength. You will be a bad liar if you say it doesn’t make you laugh a few times he does that, because you do

• Skateboard’s gang is like his family, and he just wants you to give them the benefit of doubts. He has been their leader for years without being beaten up to death before — minus those times when he got hospitalized before he met you — he knows what is he doing. Give them a chance, they aren’t that bad. Especially those who have followed Skateboard from the start. Heck, they can even do you a favor by keeping an eye out on him whenever you’re not around

• His gang members see you as family as well. It’s an unspoken rule for them to greet you like how they normally do to their boss — which is also your boyfriend — in a casual yet still friendly manner. If you ever find yourself in a tough spot, just a word and they will back you up through Skateboard’s orders. ‘In the gang, we’re all fam’ is what they told you before. Despite you’re not exactly a part of their gang, they still treat you like one. Here’s a tip to make it easier for you to get used to them: Just see them as Skateboard’s siblings or distant cousins. It will feel like a family reunion rather than a gang meeting. And hey, it does fit them actually, since they also see each other as family too

• Sometimes when he isn’t wearing anything, he just hops in and cuddle with you in an affectionate manner. It’s not something else that you have in mind, get your mind off the gutter. The reason why he does that is so you can feel his presence bare against your body, to know that he’s still there beside you. He knows how worrisome you can be. This is the least on the list of what he can do for you to help you relax. Funny thing is that it actually works since it does soothe your worries somewhat. Feeling his body, tracing every muscles and scars on his body across his body— it serves as a reminder to you that your boyfriend is still there, in flesh and bone with a beating heart

• He loves it when you feel the damages on his body. Each scar is a story to tell, and he doesn’t mind your touch lingers a bit more on it. Same goes with his actual broken horns. While you’re at it, he will coo sweet reassurances into your ear to let you know that you can’t really get rid of him that easily. The two of you are a package deal at this point. Sure, Skateboard isn’t technically the best with words. Nonetheless, he still knows how to calm you down enough verbally while he uses physical affection to give you that sense of comfort. Get emotional with him if you want, he won’t judge. He understands your feelings after all

• Skateboard loves you, please remember that. As long as you’re happy, he’s happy too. He doesn’t mind you being a nervous wreck. That just means he will have to spend more time with you to let you know that everything will be alright. You will be alright. He, too, will be alright. Skateboard is willing to put up with you for it, so don’t worry. You’re not a bother to him, never have been

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: My idol notices at me today (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑).ᐟ.ᐟ

[carbonfiction]

A little suprise

Summary: After another cosy Christmas morning shared together, it’s time for the gifts. Little things thoughtfully bought, wrapped and passed over. This year however, theres something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

Master list. Words: 1.2k

Warnings: tw mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy announcement. (Chosen to tw this simply bc im aware of how tough it can be for those struggling with conception/fertility ect, especially this time time of year. i want you to know my heart is with you, your time will come🫶) Lumberjack Logan is a sweetheart, mostly just a nice lil finding-out-he’s-gonna-be-a-dad Logan fluff with a smiiiiige of swearing. Lo calls reader “momma”

The parasites in me yearned for origins dad Logan, so I had to write origins dad Logan. Or in other words, its Christmas and I desperately can’t stop thinking about that large man with a teeeeny tiny baby.. Tadaaaaaa <33 merry Christmas loves!

Christmas morning was always peaceful in the howlett household. It would begin with sleep laced kisses, limbs tangled together as you hold each other close. It's hours before either of you actually leave the bed, too warm and content with eachothers presence to even consider it.

But when you do the first place you go, after the bathroom of course, is to the kitchen. Logan begins breakfast- or nearer brunch by then. While you make sure the coffee machine is switched on and freshly brewing the hot liquid into your usual cups- a cheesy wedding present from a friend, mugs that read 'Mr' and 'Mrs'.

Then, once dinner is roasting slowly in the oven for later, come the gifts. All soundtracked by a movie playing in the background. Little things wrapped and passed over- for you comes a cosy pair of pajamas with matching socks that you'd pointed out a while back, along with a little hamper full of your favorite treats; a perfect mix of sweet and savory to snack on when the mood takes you; or when wrapped up tighter watching a movie.

While you gift him a fresh collection of cigars and workboots that offer a little extra comfort to those long days he spends at the yard on his feet.

But.. Theres also something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

You steady yourself with an anxious exhale before you tap logan on the knee. "Theres one last one.." you say with a smile, quickly retreating to the bedroom and coming back to stand infront of him with a neatly wrapped box in hand.

Logans brow rises, a crease then wedging between them as he looks over the gift and its carefully tied bow. "Thought we agreed on a couple things each?" he murmers.

Hes right, you had agreed that, both having felt like each others company was all you really needed..

"Well, its a Surprise..” you trail, urging him to open it as nuterally as you could. Anxiety festering deep in your chest, part of you unsure just how this would go down.

Its silent as his fingers pluck and pull at the ribbon, deftly untieing it until its left in a pile besides him on the couch. Next is the lid, decorative tissue paper also following as his eyes rake over the unveiled contense.

"Sweetheart?.." logan questions in a whisper, fingers gently lifting out a pair of tiny booties and a matching flannel shirt; Both purposely mirroring items he owned. "what.. what’s all this?”

Logan feels his heart hammer in his chest, mouth going dry. are you telling him what he thinks you are?

“What’s it look like Logan?" you giggle softly, a hint of nerves in your eyes as you look down at him. You grasp an ultrasound photo and the positive test from the pocket of your sweats then, placing them in his hands over the little shirt.

You watch as his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, crease flying away from his brows as he takes in the words written on the test; illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. 'Positive'

“You-" he starts, words trembling dryly from his tongue. "you’re really pregnant?”

Tears begin to sting at your waterline as he looks up, your gazes meeting as you nod, bottom lip bitten tight between your teeth. "yeah, ‘m really pregnant.. gonna be a dad lo”

Sure, you'd had conversations in the past about this situation, had both agreed kids would be something you'd like to share one day, but you never actively began trying. Never fucked for the sake of conception. It had just.. happened.

A birthday celebration mixing with a slip up in taking your birth control- an accident you weren't sure you felt guilty for at this point, not with the look clouding over logans features.

Features soon shared by the little you or him growing inside you.

You wobble forward as Logans arms engulf your waist, pulling you toward him with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a toy they'd wanted forever.

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, landing wetly on your fingers as they find home in the soft tufts of his hair.

“I’m gonna be a dad.." he murmers incredulous and full of wonder as his forehead presses into the fabric of your shirt. You dont know if hes talking to you or himself, but its just quiet enough for you to hear it through your now hiccuped sobs.

“Are you happy?” you sniffle, still slightly unsure. He feels you pull at his hair until his gaze meets you, chin resting gently on your ribs.

“shit sweetheart, yeah" he smiles and its bright on his face as he stands to hold you properly. Logans lips press against yours, the kiss filled with unspoken emotions as the addictive taste of him hits your tongue.

He holds you tightly at the waist for a few moments and its with trembling fingers he pulls back. His head dipping to look you in the eyes, touch twice as gentle when his hands come up from your sides to gently cup your cheeks. Calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that still fall "course I'm happy, are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah Im happy" you assure, teary eyes brightening. "beyond happy even"

A grin lights logans expression as he looks down, glittering as bright as the Christmas lights surrounding you.

"You know, I was.." he starts, clearing his throat as it crackles with emotion. "God i was just thinkin what a pretty momma you’ll make but.. you already are a momma huh.." one of his hands move again, deft fingers creeping under your shirt now until his large palm sits gently against the small swell of your stomach. Your heart skipping at the feel of the cool metal of his wedding band. "growing our kid in there..”

“Well, it’s technically sill early d-“ you go to say, but he cuts you off. “Your glowing already you know that sweetheart?"

His lips find yours again, fingers still cupping your jaw as his next words press against your mouth in a soft coo. "My beautiful girl.. Our baby's gorgeous momma"

Your arms wrap around his neck, swaying gently as love drunk grins adorn both your faces. The room filled with a new kind of excitement. A memory made you know both of you will remember forever. “i Love you Logan...” you affirm, hushed.

"Love you more sweetheart, like you wouldnt believe." he honeys back softly, stroking his thumb over your belly again "Giving me the damn world here"

Its silent then for a while after, appart from the crackle of the fire. Post dinner you both rest full, wrapped up in each others arms on the couch. you lying curled onto his chest.

Your fingers alternate drawing shapes and drumming on his left pectoral, wide grins still adorning your faces as you peek over at the test, photo, boots and flannel still sitting on the coffee table.

You hum softly then, breaking the silence with a simple whisper of his name. "Logan?"

He responds just as quiet, hand still not having left its new home on your tummy. "Yeah sweet girl?"

"Once i get huge.." you start with a teasing glint making logan cock a brow as he listens. "Im reserving the right to be carried around the house.."

That makes Logan chuckle, the louder rumble shaking beneath where you lay as you too break into a fit of giggles.

He shakes his head, lips kissing your hair softly as he speaks, still deeply amused. “Whatever you want momma, whatever you want."

Is this my best work? Fuck no, fluff is my kryptonite. But Was it a sweet thought? Yeaaa..