#and it was a situation of if i complained i would only get dismissed as being pissy about stupid things. so i just. didn't.

[haarute]

something i realized in the recent years is that while my mom is a very nice person and i can understand why she is the way that she is sometimes, she had a history of always dismissing and throwing away things that were important to me, and in hindsight that certainly had an effect on both my trust in her and how much i was willing to ever share, and also just turned me into a dumpster goblin because i just gave up on ever having nice things so why bother ever caring about my personal space at all ✌️ i'll just live in the filth because we'll never have anything better after all !!

[cherryredstars]

Not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m new to tumbler :D but hi love ur writing followed you in an instant!

I was wondering if you could write something for a very low self esteem, inexperienced reader who goes to uni so is like 21 or something and is Miguel’s neighbor. They live in this building and their other neighbor is a rude lady who complains at the slightest Noise basically. she doesn’t dare bother Miguel but is always bothering the reader since reader can’t tell her to f off. Reader is just such sweet chubby lil cinnamon roll :(

Idk if I should have been less descriptive or more TvT; ?

Anyway hope you’re doing great :D don’t forget to hydrate ♥️

1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Sexual Touching (With Clothes on), Slight Fluff

Summary: He helps you, you help him.

A/N: This is perfect, don’t worry, love!!!

Word Count: 2.4K (Not Edited)

This is most definitely going to leave you a crying wreck in your bathroom later.

Your nerves were already on high alert with finally becoming independent and moving out of the college dorms, that pesky exam and assignment you procrastinated on working on, and your job has been firing and hiring people left and right. The last thing you needed was your cranky old neighbor, (it is crazy to think that you once thought she was going to be a kind old woman who would give you cookies when she was lonely), to come banging on your door with a  list of complaints and reasons why she could get you evicted. You do not know what to do, never being in this type of situation before. Honestly, you do not even know about half the things this woman is accusing you of. 

You can only stand there, hand tightly holding the door open as you try not to cry from stress. In your head, you are counting in an effort to make sure your breaths are coming out evenly. The last thing you want is to have a panic attack and have your neighbor add the threat of a mental hospital to the list. You nod along weakly to what she says, letting out whispered apologies that only seem to make her angrier. 

“You useless teenagers and your need to ruin good things, don’t think I forgot when you tr-”

“Is there a problem here?”

His voice is deep and smooth, causing the both of you to jolt. You visibly relax when you turn your head to find Miguel standing outside his apartment door. He has just gotten back from work and running errands, his lab coat draped over his arm as he holds paper bags in his arms. His hair is slightly tousled from the autumn breeze, and a few strands of his black hair are scattered with grey. His sweater hugs his arms and torso in a way that is mouthwatering, and you quickly look away when his eyes meet yours.

Miguel is the only neighbor you really know. He had helped you the first time you moved in, hearing the way you struggled to bring some things up to your apartment. He offered to help, carrying in boxes faster than you could into your apartment. When you had gotten furniture, he was happy to come over and assemble it for you. He is so kind to you, offering to help with a leaking pipe or to answer any of your questions about how to do something. You might have grown a slight crush on your neighbor, something that slightly freaked you out when you realized because of the obvious age gap the two of you have. You have not even finished college yet and he is in his mid-thirties working in a big corporate lab. 

Miguel clears his throat and you look back at him. He stares at you expectantly, totally ignoring the stuttering woman who tries to answer his question. He is only ever interested in what you have to say. You flush under his intent gaze, quickly shaking your head. You do not want to cause more problems, and you definitely do not want to have your cranky neighbor form a bigger vendetta against you. 

Miguel’s eyebrow raises, definitely catching the anxious expression on your face. He hums dismissively after a minute, eyes lazily trailing back to the older woman. His nose scrunches up slightly at the sight of her and he looks away again as the woman stops trying to defend herself. Miguel shrugs, the paper bags rustling with their contents. He turns to face you, once again ignoring the older woman. 

“Then you wouldn’t mind helping me put away my groceries, right? Can’t get my keys with my hands full,” Miguel speaks in a lazy drawl. 

You are quick to nod your head in agreement, stepping out of your doorway and closing the door. The woman steps back, a displeased look on her face as she watches you walk over to Miguel. Miguel keeps his eyes trained on you, watching everything you do. You are shy when you smile up at him. With your back turned towards the old woman, you mouth a ‘thank you’ to him. His eyes instantly snap to your lips, intently studying your exaggerated words. His eyes seem to darken for a second before he blinks and it is gone. His eyes trail back up to your eyes and he tilts his head slightly down. 

“Keys are in my pants pocket.”

You quickly nod, whispering out an ‘okay’. Your face burns as you have to get closer to him to not knock into his arms. The angle is slightly awkward, your hands slip into his pants pocket and your face burns from having your hand so close to his…thing. As you try to find his keys, Miguel looks down at you with a heated look. He watches silently for a few minutes before looking back up and over your shoulder to the older woman. His face is masked in indifference, maintaining eye contact with her until she fidgets and turns away without saying a word. 

At the same time she walks into her own apartment, you make a sound of victory as you finally retrieve his keys. You dangle them in his face with a proud smile, and he gives you an amused smirk. He steps away from his apartment door, giving you room to step in front of him and unlock his door. As you insert the key, you feel Miguel press up against your back. His warmth seeps into your spine and you are quick to bite your tongue so you do not let out a squeal.  

His breath tickles your neck and ear, warm and slightly minty. “What did I tell you about standing up for yourself, hmm cariño?”

The question rumbles with his voice and you have to hold your breath in order to not make an embarrassing sound. You turn to look at him over your shoulder and instantly regret it. He has not moved his face yet, and you are a breath away from him. If you leaned forward the slightest bit, your noses would be touching. You gulp nervously, and Miguel’s eyes trail down to your lips once again. He lets out a deep hum as you lick them nervously. 

“I- she’s not that mean to me.” You whisper out in the older woman’s defense. You cannot help the way your lashes flutter as you try to meet his eyes. 

Miguel scoffs at your defense, finally backing away from you. He shifts his hold on the bags, freeing his hand to turn the doorknob. Your hand is still there, and your breath hitches when his large hand encompasses yours. His hand moves both yours and the doorknob, making a combined effort to open the door. You are still watching him from over your shoulder, mouth slightly opened in awe. Miguel looks down at you, something playful in his eyes as he tilts his head to the side. 

“You’re blocking the doorway, cariño. The ice cream I got you is going to melt.”

Your blush returns from the pet name and you stutter out an apology as you rush inside his apartment. It’s warm, and you’re hit with the smell of him. You find the light switch and turn on the lights, flooding the whole place with a warm glow. Miguel follows you into the kitchen, placing the paper bags on the dining room table. He rummages through them, glaring at you when you try to grab one to start helping. His hands connect with something cold, and he pulls out a personal pint of ice cream. He hands it over to you and you turn it around to see the label. Your eyes instantly light up when you read the brand and flavor. Last week you had ranted to Miguel about how the grocery store did not have your favorite ice cream in stock as he was fixing a problem with your internet. The whole time he just hummed along, you did not actually think he was listening. 

He smiles softly at you as you beam up at him. He turns back to the groceries, sighing when he sees your hand reaching for the bags again. He turns to you with a bored expression. He gently removes your hands from the bag, telling you to go eat your ice cream before it melts. You grumble playfully under your breath, complaining about how you were supposed to be helping. He chuckles as he follows after you, getting a spoon out for you. 

“I thought the whole point was that I was supposed to help you put the groceries away, not eat them.” 

Your complaining is cut off by a yelp when Miguel grabs your waist. He lifts you up, putting you on top of the counter. Your eyes are wide as you look at him and his head nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You squirm slightly from his proximity. 

“You can help me by sitting prettily and keeping me company. Tell me about your day.” 

He pulls away then, returning to the dining room table and carrying a bag to the counter next to you. Your eyes are still bashful as you watch him, quietly opening your ice cream and beginning to eat it. Miguel starts to pull contents from the bag and looks over at you expectantly. Hesitantly, you begin to go through your day, easing into it the more you talk. You speak between bites of ice cream, half paying attention to Miguel as he walks around the kitchen to place things in their proper places. Occasionally, he looks over at you as you speak, his eyes trained on the way you place the spoon in your mouth and lick at the delicious treat. 

You are almost done when he puts the last thing away. He walks over to you as you continue talking absentmindedly, just finished slipping the spoon out of your mouth again. You stop talking when Miguel’s eyes drop to your mouth, his thumb coming up the swipe at your lower lip. When he pulls it away, a bit of melted ice cream is stuck to his skin. His eyes meet yours again when he brings it to his mouth, licking it away. He hums in appreciation for the taste. 

Your mouth drops open with a gasp as you watch, eyes trained on the pink muscle. You watch as his lips form a sly smile, and you blush as you look back into his eyes. But his eyes are still trained on your parted mouth, eyes dilated and hungry. He leans forward slightly, hand returning to rub at your bottom lip before he replaces it with his lips. He is not kissing you exactly, only sucking on your lip until it is swollen and red. He gives it a small nip before he pulls away, his hands falling to rub your thighs. It causes a small whimper to escape your mouth and Miguel basks in the noise. 

His hand seeps closer and closer to the area between your thighs, grabbing the carton of ice cream and moving it to the side. His hands hastily return to the area between your thighs, fingers brushing against your center. Your breath hitches and you look down to where his hands are. Your attention is snapped away when his gravelly voice meets your ears. 

“Continue with the story, querida. You don’t sound like you finished.”

You stutter over your words, the topic of conversation blanking from your mind. Miguel chuckles knowingly, his fingers continuing to brush up and down until they land on your clothed bud. He presses into it hard enough so you can feel it through the fabric of your pants and panties, gently reminding you where you left off. You nod nervously, hands snapping up to meet his shoulders as you feel wetness rushing into your panties. You stutter and choke on your words, eyes shutting as you rotate your hips sloppily into his hand. The movement is jerky, and you feel slightly embarrassed at how painfully obvious it is that no one has ever touched you like this before. But Miguel seems to like it, likes the idea that you’re untouched and he is the only person who has seen you like this. 

It gets even better when you make those soft noises, cutting yourself off and having to be reminded about what you were saying. Miguel continues his hand movements, pressing into you and rubbing and stroking. Your wetness has seeped through your panties, dampening the material of your leggings. If you were not lost in how good it feels, you would have been grossed out and uncomfortable. A weak call of his name escapes you and Miguel looks up from your cunt to look at your face. He hums in acknowledgement, watching as you try to pull his face closer to yours in a kiss. 

He swiftly avoids it, and you would have curled into yourself at the blunt rejection if you did not become distracted by his mouth suck and licking along your neck and jaw. Your mouth falls open with a moan, head leaning back to give him more room. He groans against your skin, fingers pressing tight circles to your clit. With a few hard circles, your back arches and your hold on him tightens. Gasping moans leave you and you feel the band in you snap, releasing more wetness into your panties as you finish. Miguel pulls his head away from your neck, keeping his fingers to your bud as you ride out the orgasm. Once you slump back down, he pulls his hands away. As you catch your breath, Miguel cleans up the mess on the counter. He reaches over, closing your melted ice cream and putting the spoon in the sink. 

You are still in a daze when he pushes the warm container in your hands, his own hands gentle as he lifts you off the counter. Your eyes are glossy in after-lust as he gently guides you out of his apartment and into yours. His warm hand leaves the small of your back, massaging your sides before he whispers a thank you into your ear for your help. You are only pulled completely out of your daze when you hear your door lock and close as Miguel leaves. You turn to look at the door, cheeks blazing as you clutch tightly onto your ice cream.

You are totally getting a noise complaint for that old woman tomorrow.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5

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[ynsvnte]

Our world collided ! — Nishimura Riki

Genre: fluff, angst-ish.. Drabble, opposites attract, friends to lovers, childhood best friends, high school au

wc: 1.2k+ (1238)

warnings: kissing (like once), pet names (pretty girl), jealousy

pairing: emo!niki x coquette!reader

Masterlist

“Okay that’s enough” Niki says while pushing your hands off his hair.

“What—no I’m not even close to being done..!?” You complained, hoping he’ll let you continue to let you play with his hair. The current situation being that Niki’s hair being into pigtails along with some of your hair bows attached. You thought it was cute..while he thought the opposite. “It’s hurting my scalp, take these off me now..” he demanded.. you noticed the slight pout only his face. Making you chuckle.

“I’d rather not..” you say, squishing his cheeks. He rolls his eyes before grabbing a hold of your wrist and pulling it away from him.. “I warned you..” That’s all you heard until you felt the wall against your back.. you close your eyes at the impact until a few seconds past and you open them seeing Niki infront of you kneeling down to reach your height.. your heart sped up from him being this close..

“Umm…” you say hoping he would (not) back away. Niki gets closer noses barely centimeters from touching each other.. you breathe hitched. Niki notices this, smirking.. you could feel your face getting hot. You felt like he was going to kiss you.. that’s until he pulls his face away from yours.. laughing at your reaction.. “Why so shy..hmm?” He asked while smirking.. you glare up at him, clearly embarrassed.

But that won’t stop him from teasing you. “I’m not shy..just..surprised..” You said your gaze softened..you glance up, he’s staring at you.. you look away before walking away from him..disappointed.. Niki sighs at the sight of you walking away.. “Did I really make her upset?” He asks himself, wondering.

The school day was near the end.. you looked up the clock.. 15 more minutes left and then you can leave. You’re lucky this time you don’t have class with Niki. As you only have 2 with him and lunch period. You got distracted, letting time fly by quickly. You check the clock again..so so so close only 2 minutes.. you just go ahead and start packing up your things..within those 2 minutes the bell finally rings dismissing all the students for the day. You past students trying to avoid bumping into Niki ever since what happened earlier. You really had your hopes up, expecting him to like you after all these years of being friends and yet…nothing. You quickly pick up your pace and walk out the gate.. you usually walk home with Niki as your both next door neighbors having your moms be best friends back in their days. You don’t see him anywhere, not bothering to wait too..you just start walking home..alone which is rare.

You’ve made it home taking off your shoes and tossing them out of your way. You set your bag down. Walking to your room. Opening the door you rush towards your bed, jumping onto it. Letting the cool sheets hit your face. Your aching body feels better when the feeling of your bed hits it. You rest a bit before leaving your room seeing what’s there to eat. While you wait for your mom to come home.. you find some kind of chips and decide to snack on it.

You make your way over to the living room..you can see through the sheer curtain.. something catches your eye.. two figures walking.. side by side. You walk a little bit closer seeing its Niki.. and another girl.. you don’t know her..never seen her either.. you frown at the sight in front of you.. “that should be me” you thought.. you noticed he still had the bows you used on him from earlier.. clipped to his bag. You take one more look before you see them both entering his house.. you just too push whatever just happened out of your mind.

Hours later..you couldn’t stop thinking about Niki with another girl aside from you? You knew he was earlier scared by girls no matter who it was except for you of course.. the unknown girl left about an hour ago you look out your bedroom window seeing the light in Niki’s on. You see the cup and strings from your window from the outside.. that’s how you and Niki used to communicate.. you resist using it.. thinking it seems foolish.. but you decided to anyway.. you open up your window.. a gust of wind blowing your hair out of your face.

You pick up the cup.. tapping into it 2 times remembering the code you both set up a long time ago. You weren’t expecting him to answer.. a few moments of silence passed you debated to go back inside or try again, before tapping your finger twice again.. you hear his window open up.. you look up seeing him.. in a basic black tee.. yet he looked so good. Moonlight shining his skin.. giving it a youthful look. Niki was in the same daze as you admiring your face.. doe eyes.. staring straight right at him.. plump lips he wishes to one day kiss. Niki slowly picks up the cup speaking into it.

“Need something..?” He says, your throat goes dry.. it’s like you never talked to him before. You clear your throat.. “Umm—can I get my hair bows back..I’m using it for tomorrow..” you made that up..it was the only believable one to get an excuse to talk to him.. “oh I don’t know if I can throw it at you..” “no I mean can I come over just for a bit..” you say.

You can see his reaction slightly confused but agreed anyway. You take a short trip to his house..going through the back door like it was your own home. You go up to his room. You knock before he opens the door for you. Niki is met with you and your hello kitty pajamas.. and hair in 2 braids decorated with bows. “Hi..” you said slowly.. Niki moves aside allowing you to enter. You keep your gaze low, but from a far you can see your bows.. you quickly grabbed it.. “That’s all?” Niki asks..

“Yes..wait actually yea.. no I mean no….i still have something to ask” Niki close the door, sitting down on his bed.. “yeah?” You get embarrassed to ask this but you continue on.. “Umm..I was wondering who that girl was..that you know you were walking with earlier..” you said avoiding his gaze completely. You hear him chuckle lightly.. “that..oh well..she just wanted to hang out..knowing her intentions..but don’t worry I don’t like her..” “why would I be worried if she likes you or—“ Your voice slowly fades away when you realize Niki's face is close up to yours. “There’s no denying it..I can see right through you..” you knew you were already blushing by now. “Not that I would want you to deny it..because..I so happen to feel the same..” he added smiling at you. You never see him smile. Always having a blank face for most part. Niki holds your jaw bringing your face closer to his before colliding your lips together. Lips against lips. His soft lips against yours. The kiss was tender..slow.. moments later he pulls away.. “Now pretty girl, care to cuddle..” he offered, holding his arms out.. you smiled at him.. “Of course”

Author’s note: get a little inspiration from the book I’m reading rn which is if he had been with me RAHH 🦅 back with my writing haven’t written for Niki in so long along with sunoo WHICH I NEED TO DO ASAP! Crazy how this was in my drabbels for 2 days while my hee one is a month and it’s not coming out anytime soon 🙄💀

© ynsvnte copyright 2024

[petertingle-yipyip]

COINCIDENCE - MATT MURDOCK

//it was intended as a rewrite but is just a part three i guess, idk there was a lot of discussions so peer pressure. plus the original request wanted a happy ending so i did that!!// pt1 // pt2

Pairing: Matt x Wife!Reader

Word Count: 2,083

Summary: The problem never ended, just hid. The most painful solution is acknowledged but Matt refuses to stand idly by.

The rest of the day was a blur. Matt only stayed for one hour and left. Your other classes complained that they didn’t get a special guest speaker, and while you wanted to explain it to them so they weren’t upset, something wasn’t sitting right in your stomach.

You were still upset with Matt. The idea of Elektra being in your shared apartment made you feel like the other woman, even though you were the wife. You wanted to burn down the building, throw Matt’s things into the dumpster, knock Elektra’s perfect teeth in, punch Stick in the nose. You were still so angry.

The reconciliation was supposed to be enough. That’s what your mother had always told you about marriage. Nothing was too big for you two to get over if you loved each other. Sometimes someone had to swallow their pride and forgive a fight before you lost the other. But why were you letting him off the hook without knowing that he’d do anything you asked? And what was to keep Elektra from making moves on him?

Once your kids were finally out and dismissal was done, you dropped back into your work chair. The photo was still face down, and maybe that was the indiciation you really needed that nothing was really settled.

You picked up your phone.

“Foggy Nelson.” Foggy answered.

“Hey, Fog… Did Matt make it back?” You asked, filing assignments into folders and sliding them into your bag to grade later.

“No, he said there was something he needed to take care of before you got home. Why?”

“Can I come by the office then? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure? Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You sighed. “I thought it would be a ‘sweep under the rug’ instance but it’s just… not.”

“Okay, yeah, come on by. You want me to have some food delivered?”

“You’d be a lifesaver if you did.”

“Pizza will be ready when you get here.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you in a bit.”

You ended the call and finished packing up your classroom. By the time you were done, nothing made any more sense than it did before. You were frustrated walking to your car because talking about things was supposed to help.

But you and Matt hadn’t really talked about it, had you?

You told him how to resolve the physical part of the issue. Get Elektra out of your apartment and finish whatever mission he was on as Daredevil. The latter you only added because you knew he wouldn’t leave well enough alone, stubborn bastard. But it didn’t get to the heart of the issue.

Just answer the question!

Elektra!

The understanding settled in your stomach like a rock. Despite your marriage, despite everything she had done to Matt, he said her name. He knew you were in the next room. He knew you had been restless, unable to sleep without him beside you. He knew there were nights you had stayed awake until you heard him come in just to know he didn’t die out there. He knew you would’ve dropped everything if he had called you from an alley and needed your help to get home. But maybe, all of that, he’d still do for her.

You walked into the building, smiled politely to Karen, and walked into Foggy’s office. He smiled widely and brandished the still steaming pizza. You closed the door behind you.

“I think I need a divorce.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“What happened to ‘hello’? ‘How are you’?” He replied, setting the pizza down. You almost laughed. “What’s going on?”

You sat at the table and he sat across from you. You spoke quickly, giving every detail you thought relevant. He listened quietly, probably comparing it to what Matt had told him about the situation. When you finished, he sighed heavily.

“I thought it’d be enough to just hear him say he didn’t mean it.” You sniffled. At some point during your story, you began crying. “But I can’t stop thinking. Is she friends with his friends? Does he think about her? Is she less controlling? Easy-going? Well-traveled? Well read? God, she makes me so upset!”

“Okay, let’s slow down a little.” Foggy offered.

“She’s beautiful.” You laughed bitterly. “And he loved her. She’s been on the other side of his bed.”

“They haven’t even talked before whatever came up.”

“I know it’s crazy, but I can’t stop thinking that he’s been thinking of her when he’s talking about me.”

He was quiet for a minute, taking it all in. You took the time to eat some of your pizza. So many thoughts were running through your mind.

Did you want the divorce? Did you need the divorce? Would Matt agree or would he drag it out in court? Would you be about to convince Foggy to help with your side or would he remain loyal to his friend? Whose side would Karen take? How long with Elektra wait before stepping in?

The questions were so loud you didn’t even realize Matt had shown up. Your eyes went wide when he sat beside you, then you immediately turned your glare towards Foggy. Your friend put his hands up in surrender and offered a nervous smile. When your stare didn’t lighten, he ducked out of the room.

“Y/N…” Matt began and your heated gaze turned on your husband. “I thought-“

“You know, it’s a real coincidence.” You cut in sharply. “Without her even being here - Well without me knowing she was here - she was back in your life. It was like she just knew. Now her name comes up once, comes up twice, comes up every goddamn minute since I saw her.”

“You know I don’t feel that way about her.” He insisted.

“But she’s in the same damn city every damn night. And wow, what a coincidence that you’ve lost all your common sense now, huh?”

“Seriously?” Matt scoffed and you crossed your arms. “I’m the one that’s lost it?”

“Last week, we were perfectly fine. We were normal. Now, it’s like you’ve been holding space for her in your life, and now she’s right there to fill it.”

“There’s no space! It’s only you!”

“Is it?” You laughed in disbelief. “It’s not someone trying to turn the past into the present tense?”

“No!”

“If she wasn’t here, would you be going after the Yakuza?”

His mouth opened then shut. He clearly thought better of whatever his initial answer was going to be, so he took a moment to decide on a better answer. “Not immediately, I don’t think so.”

“I’m surprised she’s not trying to suck up to ask your friends.”

“Y/N, sweetheart-“

“Don’t sweetheart me, Matthew.” You said sharply, maybe sharper than intended. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.” He defended.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry. You told me the truth, minus seven percent. Which just so happened to be the important seven percent.”

“This isn’t about Elektra.” He shook his head.

“It’s about you, you fucking idiot! She’s the girl you outgrew. That’s what you told me! Isn’t that what you told me?”

He nodded quietly.

“Then what the fuck was that when Stick got you to say her name?” You screamed.

There it was. Your admittance to what truly started it all. When he had said it, your heart sank. It fell into a hole so deep in your chest, you still didn’t feel it beat in your chest. You went through your day as normal as you could, but everything in your body felt numb. You felt hollow and you thought you could blame it on Elektra’s general presence.

But you were wrong. When it came down to it, when it was just you and Matt locked in a room, the truth came out. It wasn’t completely Elektra’s fault.

It was Matt’s.

“What was that, Matt?” You asked quietly, hot anger shifting to betrayal.

“I don’t know.” He admitted. “I want to say that I was just caught up in the moment.”

“You were defending our marriage two seconds before.” You scoffed. “You don’t have to lie to the woman that loves you. I can do that myself.”

“I never meant for this to happen.”

“That doesn’t change that it did. That doesn’t change that you hurt me, Matthew. Why can’t you admit to that?”

He reached for you, to feel your body whether it be your leg or your arm. Without thinking, you scooted your chair back. He froze immediately and his brows furrowed behind his glasses. You tensed in your seat when you realized.

You had never shied away from Matt’s touch before. You never avoided him.

“So you meant it…” Matt said quietly. You didn’t need his super senses to hear the heartbreak. “You want a divorce.”

“You said you’d pick Elektra.” You confessed quietly. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“I’ve already picked, Y/N.” He leaned forward in his chair. It was as close as he dared to get to you. “I know what I said. I know that you heard it and I know that it broke your heart. If I could take it back and just think about that goddamn question, I would.”

“So why didn’t you?”

He couldn’t answer.

“Hell’s Kitchen is nice, but who do you really want by your side?” You pressed. “And when you and Elektra inevitably break up again, would it be a coincidence then too? Would it be worth it?”

“I can’t lose you.” He nearly whispered.

“I’m going to stay at a hotel for a little while.” You decided. “I won’t draw up divorce papers just yet, but I am considering it… Call me when you can actually have this conversation with me.”

“Y/N..”

“No, Matt, just don’t. I love you so much, but I… I can’t just pretend this will go away. I thought when we talked earlier it was enough, and I was able to forget for a little while. But once the kids were gone… Fuck, it hurts. I’m so confused.”

“I’m not.” He looked at you hopefully. “I love you, Y/N. I want you. I would marry you again and again. I choose you, always.”

“Not always… What might be the only time it truly mattered, you chose Elektra. I get the whole notion of having soft spots for first loves, and I know Elektra was different for you. I accepted that when I fell for you. But look at what she’s done, what she’s put you in the middle of.”

“I chose to get involved.”

“Yeah… And it might’ve cost our marriage.” You stood. “Was it worth it?”

“No.”

“Good. Sit with that regret for a little while. When you can stand in front of Stick, with Elektra in full health, and honestly tell him you pick me, you can come find me.”

“I’ll do it right now.” He stood quickly and took a step to block your path to the door. “I care about Elektra, but not the way I need you. Please…”

“What am I supposed to do, Matt, just let it go?”

“No… Please, just give me a chance.”

“I am, but I need to think and so do you.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“And I need you to need me, just me.”

“I do.”

You smiled slightly to yourself, thinking for a brief moment of your wedding. You knew it’d be a lot of rebuilding to get your marriage back to what it was, and it wouldn’t really start until Elektra was gone. You didn’t know her true motives with Matt but you could take a guess. Regardless, he was trying to convince you and you so badly wanted to believe him.

So you took the chance.

“I’ll be at the Presidential for the rest of the week. Figure it out, Matt, or I’ll do it for you.”

You didn’t return to your shared apartment until that Sunday. When you did, Matt was waiting for you. No sign of Elektra’s presence was a relief. No sign of Stick either.

Rather, your favorite flowers were on the coffee table, the newest book from your favorite author and a stuffed animal were beside them.

You stared at them in appreciation.

You didn’t believe everything was back to normal, but Matt was showing you that he was going to try and fix it. He was fighting for your marriage, so you would too.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene II: The Crazy Idea)

After being cornered by your friends, you find yourself in an even more complicated position due to your impulsive decision.

Part warning: none, just my bad attempt at crack humor Words: 2.6k A/n: If you paid attention, I've been using his gifs from season 9 so the timeline is somewhere along there. And while writing half of this, I realized Emily wasn't even on that season, but for the sake of fanfiction and pure imagination, let's ignore the human error of this stupid author. Thank you. Let me know what you think!!

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

It took you exactly seven hours and fifteen minutes to finally gather the courage to head to Penelope's lair. The morning had been a blur of paperwork and reports, leaving you mentally drained and chained to your desk. But no matter how much work you plowed through, your mind kept drifting back to last night's disaster and how your friends had planned the whole thing.

Frustration wasn’t enough to describe how you felt. You found yourself gripping your pen so tightly it threatened to snap in your hand, and your fingers pounded the keyboard harder than necessary as you typed out reports.

Eventually, you found yourself daydreaming about ways to get back at them. You imagined a dozen different ways to plot your revenge, each more elaborate than the last, and although it provided a temporary sense of satisfaction, it wasn't enough. 

By the time you wrapped up your last report, your frustration had reached its peak. You decided you couldn't wait any longer. You headed to JJ's desk first, hoping to catch her and get some answers, but it was empty. With no sign of her anywhere and your patience wearing thin, there was only one other person who might have the answers you needed.

You made a beeline for Penelope’s office. The moment her door came into view, you knocked sharply and then entered without waiting for a response. You weren’t surprised when you found Penelope and JJ huddled over a monitor, their heads snapping up in sync at your abrupt entrance.

“There she is!” Penelope exclaimed, turning around in her chair. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh, really?” you replied, crossing your arms. “I wonder what could possibly be so interesting about me.”

Penelope and JJ exchanged a quick look, barely suppressing their chuckles. 

“How did it go last night?”

You groaned at the memory. “I can’t believe you guys tricked me!”

JJ laughed and turned to you, her expression almost apologetic. “Look, we’re sorry, okay? We just thought it would be…” she looked over at Penelope, trying to come up for a word before settling with, “Fun.”

“Fun?” You exclaimed. “Manipulating your friends into awkward situations is your idea of fun?“

Penelope waved her hand dismissively. “It couldn't have been that bad. Did you guys talk it out?”

You stared at her pointedly as if the idea of you having that conversation with him was absurd.

“No.”

“Did he apologize for anything?”

“No.”

“Come on, there had to be some deep, meaningful conversation,” JJ chimed in, trying to hold back a grin.

You scoffed. “No.”

“Did he walk you home?”

“No—wait, yes, he did,” you admitted, recalling the memory. “But he complained the whole time about how inefficient my route was and how there were, and I quote, statistically shorter paths to my apartment.”

“How sweet of him,” Penelope observed, deciding to ignore the last part of your rant. Then she wiggled her eyebrows. “Did he lean in for a goodnight kiss?”

“What? No!” You sat on the only empty chair in the room, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “Nothing happened.”

“Did he at least say something sweet when he walked you home?” Penelope prodded, trying to dig deeper.

You shook your head, a resigned sigh escaping you. “No, because it was nothing like that. We talked, we ate, he walked me home. That’s it.”

“Sounds like the start of something to me.”

“Totally the start of something,” Penelope nodded enthusiastically.

You rolled your eyes. “There’s nothing to start because we can’t even stand each other.”

“Well you know what they say,” Penelope sang. “There’s a thin line between love and hate.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, trying not to show how unnerving her assumptions were. "That's ridiculous."

“But he walked you home,” she pointed out.

“So?”

“So that’s got to be something,” JJ joined in. “Spencer’s not exactly known for going out of his way unless he wants to.”

“He was just being polite,” you insisted, feeling cornered. “He walked me home because my apartment was on the way to his place.”

Penelope tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, on his way, or making a way?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache brewing. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Maybe he’s being subtle about it,” JJ suggested, trying to sound reasonable. “He’s not that forward when it comes to expressing his feelings.”

“No, guys, it wasn’t anything like that,” you insisted, your voice rising slightly in frustration as your eyes moved between the two of them. The room felt smaller with each passing second, the walls closing in as they stared at you expectantly. They were enjoying this way too much.

“Oh, but it could be,” Penelope persisted. “You’re both single, smart, attractive people who spend a lot of time together.”

“You two are unbelievable.”

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” she continued, her voice softer now as she reached out to pat your hand. “We’re your friends, and if there’s something more, we’d love to support you.”

“Or if you prefer to keep it a secret, we won’t tell anyone.”

“Exactly. You can trust us. We’re really good at keeping secrets.”

“So good.”

“So good.”

Your patience snapped, frustration and pressure boiling over. “Fine! Yes! We’re going on another date!” You blurted out, the lie spilling out in a moment of desperation before you could stop. “Happy now?”

Silence fell over the room as Penelope and JJ stared at you, stunned. Then slowly, realization dawned on their faces, and a chorus of excited squeals filled the air.

“Oh, I knew it!” Penelope exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

JJ grinned at you. “Really?”

The weight of your words hit you like a cold splash of water.

What had you just done?

“This is so exciting!” Penelope gushed, her enthusiasm mounting. Then she turned to you. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

You suddenly felt a wave of panic. You scanned their faces, seeing only genuine excitement and curiosity, no hint of doubt and discomfort swelling inside you. How could you explain that there was nothing to tell because there was no second date? That it was just a knee-jerk reaction to their relentless teasing? You couldn't possibly confess now, not without making everything infinitely worse.

But how were supposed to tell him? The idea of deceiving not just your friends but also involving Spencer in this lie made you feel sick. The room seemed to spin as you tried to come up with some way to ease the damage.

“I... I wanted it to be a surprise?” You managed to say, although the words sounded more like a question. Your lie felt hollow even to your own ears, but Penelope and JJ seemed to buy it, nodding and exchanging excited glances.

“This is going to be amazing,” Penelope said, practically bouncing in her chair. “So when’s the next date?”

Your mind raced. For there to be a next date, even a pretend one, you needed to talk to him. The realization hit you hard, the full weight of the lie you'd just created sinking in. You'd have to involve him in this deception and the thought made you feel queasy. You imagined the awkward conversation, the look of confusion—and likely frustration—on his face. This was going to be a mess.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, scrambling for a response. “Uh, soon. I-I’ve got to go talk to him about it, actually.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up even more. “Oh, planning it together! That’s so sweet!”

You forced a smile, slowly rising from your seat. “Yeah, super sweet,” you mumbled, your voice barely steady. You could feel your cheeks burning as you stumbled over your lies. “I, uh, better go find him now.”

Without waiting for a response, you bolted out of the room, your heart pounding in your chest. You mentally kicked yourself with every step. You had let them get to you, allowing their teasing to push you into this mess. You couldn’t believe you had let yourself get caught up in this lie.

You paused in the hallway, briefly considering turning back and telling them the truth. The thought lingered for a moment, the idea of ending this charade before it spiraled further out of control. But you quickly shook your head, knowing that backtracking now would only make things worse. You could already imagine how unbearable the teasing and explanations would be.

No, you’ve gone too far to back out now.

Continuing down the hallway, your steps quickened as you searched for him. You finally spotted him by the pantry, absentmindedly pouring too much sugar into his coffee. You walked up to him and leaned against the counter, watching him stir his coffee with more force than necessary.

“I did something stupid,” you blurted out, catching his attention. He looked up before glancing back down at his cup.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“No, listen.” You leaned in closer, lowering your voice. “It’s about last night.”

He finally looked at you, eyebrows raised, clearly surprised as to why you would bring up anything from last night.

“What about last night?” He asked, bringing his cup to his lips.

The words tumbled out in a rush. “I was with JJ and Garcia, and they were teasing me about us, how we supposedly have this… thing going on now. I couldn’t take it anymore. So…” You watched him take a sip of his coffee. “…I told them we’re going on another date.”

He choked, the drink catching in his throat. Coughing, he set the cup down with a sharp clatter, his eyes watering slightly as he regained his composure.

“You told them what?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” You rushed to explain. “They wouldn’t stop pushing and I just wanted them to shut up. I thought if I said something like that, they’d just leave me alone. But now they expect details, and I… I need your help.”

He took a deep breath, trying to process what you were asking of him. “Let me get this straight. You, of all people, told them we’re going on another date, knowing full well how we—” He paused, searching for the right words. “How we don’t get along. And now you want me to help you keep up this lie?”

You nodded, and he called out your name in frustration.

"Last night wasn't even a date!”

“I know! The words just… came out.” When you saw him shake his head disapprovingly, you let out a groan. “I’m not thrilled about it either, okay? But I’m kind of… desperate here.”

Spencer took another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving yours. After a moment, he set the cup down, gripping it in his hand.

“No.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “No?”

“No,” he confirmed before turning around, walking back to his desk. “I’m not going to help you.”

You shuffled along, trying to match his pace. “Why not? This could actually get them to stop.”

“Do you even hear yourself? This is crazy. You can’t just spin lies and drag me into them because you want to avoid a little teasing,” he retorted, sitting down and starting to shuffle through some papers on his desk, clearly trying to end the conversation.

“It’s not a little teasing! They’re relentless,” You pressed, leaning against his desk. “Come on, don’t you ever get tired of them trying to set us up?”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend to date you. What’s next? A fake wedding?”

“Don’t be dramatic. We just need to show up together a couple of times, act mildly interested in each other, and then we can break up. We fake it, we tell them it didn’t work out, and we move on. It’s simple.”

“Of course, because nothing says ‘simple’ like faking an entire relationship.”

You crossed your arms and took a deep, calming breath. “Look, I know it’s not the greatest plan, but can you think of a better way to get them off our backs?”

Spencer stared at you, his eyes narrowing as he considered your words. “You realize you’re trying to deceive a team of profilers, right?”

He had a point, but you weren’t about to back down. “Wasn’t this your whole idea in the first place?”

“My idea was for us to act like we get along, not pretend that we’re in love.”

“It doesn’t even have to be convincing,” you argued, leaning in slightly. “Just enough to make them back off for a while. Besides, if you start laying it on too thick, they’ll never believe it. They know you don’t have much experience to begin with.”

Spencer looked offended, his brows knitting together. “I have experience,” he countered. “Just because I’m not flaunting it doesn’t mean I’m completely clueless.”

“Oh, yeah? When was the last time you were in a relationship?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and when you noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, you realized what you had just implied. There was a tensed pause as you both stared at each other. You both knew the answer to that question, and you both knew you were treading dangerous territory.

But before either of you could break the silence, a voice cut through the tension. “What are you two lovebirds fighting about now?”

You turned to see Derek standing by his own desk, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. And then you saw it, an opportunity. If Spencer wasn’t going to agree to help willingly, you were going to take matters into your own hands.

You straightened your shoulders and faced Derek. “We need to tell you something.”

Spencer sensed what you were about to do and quickly stood up. “Wait—“

“Reid and I are dating.”

You heard Spencer take a sharp inhale. There was no turning back. The nerves in your stomach tightened, but you decided to ignore it and focus your attention on Derek instead. His eyes widened in surprise, looking between the two of you.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, crossing your arms and standing your ground, while Spencer remained silent beside you, his expression unreadable. “We decided to give it a shot.”

“At dating? As in romantically?”

“I don’t think there’s another way to describe it.”

Derek stared at you both for a moment longer, then his shock gave way to a broad grin. “Finally.” He let out an amused laugh “Took you two long enough.”

He approached with a playful swagger, clapping Spencer on the shoulder and ruffling your hair, which you quickly swatted away. “Can’t say that I’m surprised, but congratulations.”

Spencer looked at you, and you glanced back at him. Derek, oblivious to the tension between you two, grinned widely.

“I guess all that tension was just unresolved passion, huh?”

Your eyes snapped at him. “Morgan!”

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in mock surrender, still wearing a broad smile. “I’m just happy for you both. Seriously.”

You stared at him, bracing yourself for more teasing, perhaps a joke about what supposedly happened last night, or worse, something embarrassingly inappropriate. But to your surprise, Derek didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded with a genuine smile and returned to his desk, resuming his work.

You and Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process the sudden shift. You both were so used to his relentless teasing that his quick exit left you momentarily speechless.

You slightly leaned towards him as you continued to stare at Derek hunched over his desk.

“Do you hear that noise?” You whispered.

“What noise?”

“Exactly. This is the sound of peace,” you replied with a slight grin, turning back to Spencer. “See? This is already working. If we keep this up, we can finally get them off our backs.”

“I still think this is a bad idea,” he muttered, giving you a pointed look.

“Do you have a better plan?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m all ears if you do.”

Spencer sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if weighing the pros and cons. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this…” He trailed off, looking genuinely conflicted. “This is going to backfire, you know that, right?”

Sure, he could be right, but at the same time, you believed this plan was harmless. It seemed like a simple solution: a fake relationship played out convincingly enough to appease your friends. It was supposed to be straightforward—an act, a performance without real consequences. Nothing could go wrong if you controlled the narrative.

You finally looked up at him. “Don’t worry,” you said, trying to sound confident. “It won’t.”

But as the words left your mouth, you realized, you weren't entirely convinced.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

THE HOT MEDIEVAL & FANTASY MEN MELEE

SECOND ROUND: 6th Tilt

Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) VS. William Thatcher, A Knight’s Tale (2001)

Propaganda

Frodo Baggins, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) Portrayed by: Elijah Wood Defeated Opponents: - Dong Yilong [Henry Lau], Double World (2020) - Prince Chauncley [Daniel Radcliffe], Miracle Workers: The Dark Ages (2020)

“The bluest of blue eyes, the burden, the sacrifice, the sadness… When I was in middle school and the movies were coming out, you were either an Aragorn girl or a Legolas girl. I was a Frodo girl.”

William Thatcher, A Knight’s Tale (2001) Portrayed by: Heath Ledger Defeated Opponents: - King Arthur [Charlie Hunnam], King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) - King Vortigern [Jude Law], King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

“13-year-old me had such a HUGE crush on Will Thatcher / Ulrich von Liechtenstein, and you know what? 13-year-old me was RIGHT (and had much healthier taste in men). He's a dreamer, he's sweet (except maybe when you're dismissive about jousting...), he gives to others despite having little himself, he has the most charming, contagious smile. And to play us out... he's blonde! He's pissed! He'll see you in the lists! Lichtenstein! Lichtenstein!”

Additional Propaganda Under the Cut

Additional Propaganda

For Frodo Baggins:

“cracks knuckles Okay, everyone. My time has come. Let me tell you all about the beautiful, wonderful treasure that is Frodo Baggins.

"He's intelligent. He can speak and write in Elvish, and he's mischievous, at least at the start of the story. His best friends are Merry and Pippin, and you can't tell me he didn't get into shenanigans with them once in a while. Whether it's repeatedly stealing Farmer Maggot's mushrooms as a kid in the book, or pushing Sam towards Rosie and cackling like a maniac afterwards in the movie, this makes him more relatable and imperfectly human, for lack of a better term, and you can't help but laugh with him.

"He's brave. Oh, he is so brave. Not in the sense that we would usually think- he's terrified the whole way through, and who wouldn't be in his situation? But he lets himself cry, lament his fate, feel whatever he needs to feel, do whatever he needs to do... and he gets up and keeps going anyway. He keeps going even though he's carrying something that's literally killing him, and rarely complains even though he'd be well within his rights to. This quote says it all, really: 'I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.'

"But most of all? He is so, so terribly kind. He's kind to everyone he meets, even to those who arguably don't deserve it, such as Gollum and Saruman. He loves the people/world he loves so much that he's willing to sacrifice himself to save them without any hesitation or thanks. And it's his kindness towards Gollum that actually ends up saving the day in the end! How could anyone not love him?”

For William Thatcher:

“HE'S SO CUTE AND BRAVE AND STUPID AND DETERMINED AND FUNNY AND POETIC AND HE HAS BIG BEAUTIFUL BROWN EYES AND FRECKLES AND HE'S BISEXUAL-CODED HE'S MY BOY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH”

“The only man that could have pulled off a David Bowie dance scene within a medieval ballroom.”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Green | Part 2

"I don't jump around like that!"

Tags/Warnings: Bunny hybrid! Single dad!Jungkook, Fox hybrid!Reader, strangers to lovers, Fluff, romance, major fluff, crayons and frogs

Length: 2.5k Words

-> Masterlist

There is no taglist for this fic.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

“Is it bad timing?” You ask over the phone, whine Jungkook can be heard fighting a fierce battle against his little toddler, who’s clearly currently winning.

“No- Minji-“ he starts, before he addresses you. “Not- not No towards you, you never call during a bad time, I promise, I always want to talk to yo- Minji come on now!” He sighs, little girl having escaped his lap again- refusing to bend to her father’s only wish. “I promise I want to talk to you. Minji is just..”

“Having one of those days?” You giggle, and he smiles to himself.

“I guess so.” He admits. “She wants to go out and play, but I can’t get her into her outdoor clothes.” He sighs, before he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, you called because you wanted to chat and all I do is complain-“

“no, no no its fine, really.” You dismiss, truly not offended at all. “I uh.. I’ll let you battle your daughter for now. You can.. uhm, we can.. I don’t know. Talk later maybe.” You offer, and he looks at the phone a bit upset.

“I..” Well, there’s nothing there to apologize for. He’s not sorry he’s in his situation, neither is he sorry who he is or what his daughter is- it’s just an unfortunate situation you’re both in. “..yeah. let’s talk later.” He agrees, and you quietly say your goodbyes, making his heart hurt quite a bit.

Just because he’s not sorry, doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel guilty.

Minji seems to notice his shift in emotions quite quickly, quietly reaching for her outdoor pants again that he’s been trying to put on her these past twenty minutes or so- now obediently trying to put them on herself, though she does reach for his hands to get him to help her quite quickly. And even while dressing her, jungkook can’t help but think.

Will you ever be able to accompany him and his daughter out like that? Push the swing she sits on, hold her hand when he’s got his full? Maybe.

Maybe not.

All he knows is that once he’s at the playground, sitting on the bench alone again to watch the little toddler play in the sand with another prey hybrid kid, he feels as if he could be the one to throw a tantrum any second now.

Crying out, begging for the world to just let him have you.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Minji is happily walking through the mall with her dad, holding his hand tightly as to not get lost, when suddenly, as Jungkook has stopped to look at an interesting discounted product in the shelf, he can feel her tug a little as she seems interested in something as well now. “Hm?” Jungkook wonders without taking his eyes off the value pack of baby wipes, before he looks down at his daughter, who’s staring somewhere, one hand prodding at her mouth absentmindedly. “What’re you looking at, hm?” He wonders, looking into the direction she does, when he spots it.

Or rather, you.

You’re wearing simple clothes, clearly not out to impress anyone but just to get what you need, but he can’t deny that you’re still appealing like this, even though you’re not even wearing makeup from what he can see. Your fluffy tail is slightly swaying from side to side as you put something into your shopping cart, unaware of being watched.

Jungkook is curious. It seems like you must’ve made an impression on his daughter- because she appears to recognize you, most likely by your striking features. And while she’s still clinging to him, her interest in you is obvious.

As if you can feel eyes on you, you turn a little to lock eyes with Jungkook- who waves a little, before urging Minji to do the same- but at the obvious sign of being spotted, she instead hides behind his legs, as if that would protect her from the danger of you- even though there is nothing to fear. You wave back, and Jungkook can see that you’re masking your disappointment over the little girl still clearly feeling some form of natural fear.

“Come, let’s go say hi.” Jungkook tells his daughter, who looks visibly troubled by that proposal, torn between natural fearful instincts, and her inner curiosity. Suddenly however, it seems that her decision has been made- as she makes a sound of protest, slipping around his legs to attempt to walk off, if it wasn’t for Jungkook grabbing the back of her wintercoat in the last second. But she’s eager, whining in complaint- and only now does he realize, you’ve walked off, probably thinking that would be for the best.

But not for Minji.

Remembering the dinner, Jungkook has an idea on how to maybe solve this clearly frustrating issue for his daughter- picking her up easily, to walk after you as you’re now standing in front of a large collection of different tubs of ice cream. “One might think you’re the prey trying to escape.” Jungkook jokes, and the second you look at him, clearly worried, he feels his heart jump.

Because his plan is working.

The fact that Minji is now in close contact with her father gives her an intense boost of confidence- hands reaching out for you now, curious eyes fixated on your actual face now, no longer avoiding eye contact. It makes you both a bit intimidated but also hopeful that maybe, this is a sign that with a bit more work at familiarizing yourself with her, there might be a chance.

“Hello.” You greet, careful not to move too quickly, though the little hybrid girl is clearly not that jumpy anymore, giggling happily when she notices your tail wag behind you, hitting the metal shopping cart- pointing to it to show her father, who’s smiling just as much about it. “I didn’t mean to run off- just.. Thought, I don’t know.” You stumble over your words a little, but Jungkook reassures you.

“It’s fine, really. I don’t wanna.. Stall your shopping trip either. Just.. We both wanted to just.. See you, I guess.” He says, while his daughter becomes a bit fidgety, wanting to get down again. “Minji baby if I put you down you gotta stay close though.” He gently scolds her, simply receiving a sound of protest.

You’ve noticed this as well- the fact that she pretty much doesn’t talk, whenever she’s aware that people are watching. She only ever babbles with her father, but that’s to be expected. Most prey hybrids are very withdrawn and shy, so its already surprising she appears to be very much okay with you so close already. And the second he puts her down, she’s already running off-

Though not very far, as she instead happily holds onto your tail, even laughing when you look at her with eyes wide open, completely surprised.

“I’m so sorry-” Jungkook starts, but you shake your head, smiling, and waving him off.

“No, no-” You reassure. “I’m.. Happy.” You nod, carefully looking at Minji who’s running her hands through the fur of your tail, shyly grinning up at you before she lifts your tail to hide herself, making both you and Jungkook laugh.

Maybe she’s just not that scared of predators?

But that suspicion is instantly debunked as two wolf hybrids casually walk past you both to get to pay for their things, making the little bunny hybrid instantly jump back to her father, clinging to the fabric of his pants.

So why is she alright with you?

“Would you.. Like to come over sometime?” You ask Jungkook, fidgeting with your hands a little nervously. “I.. You know. Just for some.. Casual chatting. Maybe cake? I can bake pretty well.” You rant, and Jungkook looks at Minji.

“You wanna visit Dad’s friend with him?” He asks her, and she looks at you, thinking- before she nods, reaching for something in Jungkook’s shopping basket, before she drops it in your cart- and on closer inspection, it’s a small pack of frog-themed hairclips. “Oh? You don’t want them anymore?” He wonders, but his daughter shakes her head.

“..for me?” You ask, and she nods, smiling before she runs behind her father again, curiously poking her head around his body as if to play hide and seek with you. “Well.. Not what I’d usually go for, but they might look nice. What do you think?” You ask Jungkook, who’s caught off guard for a second, having to look away a bit bashful, nodding.

“Y-yeah! I mean, anything would suit you, since you’re really pretty..” He rants, nervously licking his lips before his tongue plays with the piercings of his bottom lip, unsure how to act. This isn’t exactly what he expected- but it’s also a surprising turn of events that makes him happy.

“..thank you..” You respond, before you wave at the little girl, moving to do the same towards her father-

But Jungkook instead hugs you goodbye, unable to help himself in that moment.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━

When you open the door to your apartment, Minji is very wary.

It’s to be expected- it's not just a new environment, but it also smells entirely of you- a predator hybrid, her natural enemy of sorts, at least in instinct. So it doesn’t shock him, and neither you, that she’s clinging to her father, stuffed animal in her arm while the other one clings to her father’s pantleg. But one look at you does seem to make her perk up- ears suddenly standing tall and turned towards you, shy smile on her lips while she grins into her dark green frog-plushy. “Hey. We’re a bit late-” Jungkook apologizes, but you just wave him off, letting them both inside with a smile.

“No bother, you texted me after all, so I was prepared.” You tell him, inviting them both into your living space that’s fairly small, but clearly yours. It’s vibrant, a bit chaotic, but overall a home, and not just a place you exist in. The little girl looks around already, most likely having her attention caught by all the decoration, pictures on the walls and colorful interior design you have. Jungkook also notices two awards hung up on the wall near the TV in the living room- and he’s reminded of your profession again, giving him an idea on how to coax his little girl out of her shell again.

“Hey, do you wanna know something cool?” Jungkook asks, squatting down in front of his daughter who looks at him, ears pointing towards him in curiosity. “Dad’s friend can draw really well. Maybe if you ask her nicely, she can show you?” He proposes, and at that, Minji looks over at you, who seems caught off guard- but you instantly walk to open a small room- an office that looks pretty chaotic, obviously the place where you work.

The shelves are full of books of all sizes and colors, but what seems to catch Minji’s attention the most, is a familiar bookcover- the same she has had for quite a while now, green frog family something she remembers very easily.

“Wait- you’re the author?” Jungkook wonders, holding one of the multiple little picture-books in his hands, the specific one Minji is looking at a new one she’s not seen before.

You nod. “I didn’t know she read that one.” You giggle. “This uh.. It's the new one that’ll be published next month. You can look at it if you like.” you tell her, well aware that she most likely can’t read it yet, but probably enjoys looking at the pictures anyways.

“Well, she doesn’t read, really..” jungkook chuckles, watching his daughter carefully stare you down while she picks up the book, something brewing in her brain with the way her ears move so distinctively. “she mostly looks at the pictures, and makes up her own story.” He explains.

“it trains her creativity.” You tell him, as you walk out the room with her hot on your heels, eyes still burning Luke little lasers on the back of your head. “which is important, you know? Many parents.. just leave their kids with the TV or something and call it a day.” You sigh, closing the door behind you before you watch Minji jump on your couch, eager to look at the little book.

“minji, don’t jump like that!” Jungkook scolds, and you can’t help but smile to yourself at the almost challenging glimmer in his daughter’s eyes, as if she’s quietly sending a message- one that’s so obvious, even you receive the signal clear as day.

“But Dad does it!” she suddenly chirps at you. “All’the time!” she mumbles into the backrest of the couch. Jungkook gasps at both the sheer audacity of his daughter airing out his bad habits like this- and the fact that she actually spoke directly towards you.

“Well, I’d love for you both to feel right at home.” You say gently. “So I don’t mind if you jump a little, bunny.” You tell her- and at the nickname she grows shy, hiding away to instead bury her head into her book.

Jungkook smiles at the interaction, and follows you into your kitchen to make some tea, enjoying the moment with you to its fullest. “…I really don’t jump around like that, by the way.” He suddenly tells you with such a serious tone that you can’t help but laugh at him. “Hey, I’m serious!”

“serious? Maybe, but not honest!” You giggle, making him smile as well, unable to really do anything else but. This whole situation feels like a dream really, with you at his side and his daughter warming up to you. He’s sure there will be hurdles, it won’t be a smooth ride just because right now things are looking up- but he also has found a new unique feeling.

A feeling that this might actually work.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Back home, Jungkook has busied his daughter with her coloring book and favorite crayons, while he himself prepares some dinner in the kitchen. And all is calm and well, until his daughter calls out to him from her room, a whine in her tone signaling that she needs his help urgently.

“What’s up?” He wonders towards her, before she holds out two crayons she’s never used- one red, and one orange. “What’s with them?” He asks, while she pouts to herself, thinking seriously about something.

“which is dad’s friend?” she asks, and Jungkook laughs.

“I don’t know? Maybe both of them, hm?” He wonders, and she nods- suddenly determined as she runs back to her coloring book, occupying herself again while he smiles and shakes his head, directing his attention back to the pan on the stove.

It’s only later, when he cleans up the table and finishes putting away the dishes, that she stands in front of him again, this time with a neatly ripped out page of her coloring book. “Wanna put that on the fridge?” He asks, and his daughter nods.

The picture showing three frogs, two green and one thats colored in orange and red.

[tinylilacbun]

I got reeaaally inspired for this one and it might be a biit dark😭 (from the scene where Rafe litteraly ask Wheezie if she wants drugs) how about toddler/little!reader (it's up to you) who catches Rafe doing drugs and as innocent as she is, she thinks it's sugar and keep asking Rafe to try it 🤭

I love these scene based requests sm!!

Warnings: age regression, drugs + consumption (not by reader!!)

Rafe takes out his phone, nodding to himself at seeing how late it is. You should be napping for 30 more minutes, enough time to do a quick line.

Despite knowing that he shouldn't even be doing it with you in the house he just can't help himself. He tried to stop doing coke for your sake but it's not as easy as he thought it would be. So, he's still decent enough to only do it when you're sleeping or out and about.

He places his phone on the table in front of him, leaning back to fish out the baggie from his pocket, carefully pouring a good amount of its content onto the table. Next he grabs his credit card to prepare a line.

Leaning down he snorts the line, sitting up straight again he tilts his head back and wipes his nose. The moment he lifts his head again he curses under his breath when he sees you standing in the doorway with your lamb held in your hand.

"You should be napping." He says, quickly but subtly moving everything from the table that you're not supposed to see, sniffing and rubbing his nose again.

"Want to cuddle...you weren't there." You mumble quietly, fiddling with the ear of your plushie, a slight pout forming on your face. "What you doin'?"

"It's- grown up stuff." He simply dismisses, leaning back in his seat he pats his thigh, spreading his legs a bit more.

Without hesitation you rush over to him, getting comfortable on his lap, your favorite place to sit and take naps.

"Can I twy some of the sugar?" You suddenly ask and Rafe huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, definitely not. That's nothing for little girls like you and I want you to forget what you saw, a'ight?" He gently grabs your chin, tilting your head up so you see that he's serious.

"But-" the moment you start to complain he raises an eyebrow, cutting you off.

"Ah, don't forget who you're talking to. I said forget it." His hold on your chin tightens a little for emphasis.

You pout again but try to nod anyways, knowing that you should listen to what he says. Daddy always knows best. The phrase repeats in your head time and time again in situations like this.

"Yes daddy." You answer quietly.

"Atta girl..." Rafe smiles at you, pulling you closer to kiss your cheek.

You start to giggle and smile, the situation instantly forgotten again the second you get affection from him.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity

[woso-dreamzzz]

Flowers

Chloe Kelly x Reader

Summary: It's a tradition

It was becoming a bit of a habit.

You wrote it off as a joke the first time it happened. You came into England camp with a smile and a flirty wave to the camera.

You turned to the corner to see Chloe on one knee with a singular tulip in her hand.

"For you," She said in a dramatic joking tone," My lady!"

You laughed and took it from her, curtsey deeply to play along. You knew the cameras were eating up the interaction so you caught Chloe's hand and pressed a kiss to it.

She laughed and jumped to her feet, tucking you under her arm as she winked and pointed at the camera. "And that's how you get a girlfriend!"

"Is that what I am?" You said back with an eye roll before looking back at the camera. "Don't listen to her, everyone, she's too cocky to think she's done anything wrong ever."

"Come on!" Chloe complained," Don't tell me you weren't wooed for a second there!"

You held up your index finger and thumb, squashing them against each other. "The tiniest of seconds," You said before walking off to go to your room," You have to try better than that, Chloe!"

"I'll get you!"

The next time Chloe surprised you with flowers was on a pitch inspection for the Euros. You were completely exhausted from having spent most of your night up talking to Tooney and binging on the food you had snuck in.

"My love," Chloe said dramatically as she dropped to her knees in front of you and pulled out a fairly crushed tulip," Take this as a token of my undying love!"

"I'm pretty sure that flower is dead," You replied dryly.

"Shit," Chloe muttered before clearing her throat and offering it to you again," Take this as a token of my affection!"

"The dying flower? Gee, Chlo, why don't you just stomp on my heart now?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back! You'll fall for my charms!"

"Bye, Chloe!"

It became a bit of a tradition and soon the fans were being updated every week of the Euros campaign about Chloe's attempts to woo you.

"Hey! Wait!"

You tried to back out of the door when you saw her but with Millie and Rachel behind you, you couldn't escape.

"Jesus, Chloe," You breathed out as you looked at the tulip in her hand," Where are you getting all of these flowers from? Surely, you're going broke?"

"Love has no price tag!" She declared dramatically as she assumed the position on her knees and cleared her throat. With her other hand, she unfolded a long sheet of paper.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," You laughed in disbelief as Chloe recited poetry that she had obviously written herself from the way she was trying to rhyme your name with various household objects. "Are you nearly done?"

She gave you a deadpan look. "Excuse me," She said in faux offense," But I'm trying to declare my love for you and I'm only halfway through the rooms of your house. I would like silence and cooperation for this part, please."

You jerked your thumb over your shoulder to Millie and Rachel. "And the bodyguards are here, why?"

"To make sure you can't escape."

"Oh, so this is a hostage situation. Thanks for letting me know."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Can I get back to this now? Please and thank you."

The further you got into the tournament, the more public Chloe's jokes got.

After the semifinals and the celebration on the pitch after you won, Chloe threw you over her shoulder and carted you around on the lap the team took.

As she went by, she collected the tulips that she clearly had convinced the fans to bring with them before trapping you between her and the stands.

She cleared her throat. "My love-"

"No!" You pointed," No sappy nicknames! Start again!"

She looked pointedly at the crowd before starting again. "My love of you is as endless as these flowers! They just keep coming and coming!"

You opened your mouth to complain about how she was only holding five flowers when more rained down from above you.

It shocked a laugh out of you.

"Nine out of ten delivery!" You said, still laughing," Could use some work!"

"Oh, come on! That has to be a ten out of ten!"

It all comes to a head at the finals.

The rush of adrenaline felt like nothing you had ever experienced before.

"Hey, match winner," You said as you collided with Chloe.

"Hey!" She yelled over the triumph of the crowd. She produced a singular tulip and raised it into your view. "Are we doing this or what?"

You took it.

Then, she kissed you.

[suskz]

bro I'm the biggest nerd emoji I've ever met so I loved what you wrote w chan and nerd!reader... do you think you could do it w changbin my bias??? I need his muscles pinning me down to the bed i swear... ty your writing is so yummy and perfect food 🤤

My little lucky charm

pairing: Jock!Changbin x Nerd!fem!Reader

t/w: smut ; piv sex ; unprotected sex (don’t do that kids) ; coming untouched ; size kink ; submissive reader ; a lil’ bit of dirty talk ; use of pet names (baby, bunny).

w/c: 1.9k

a/n: decided to combine those two together. Hope you like it! ^^

It’s only when he stands in front of you that you notice his presence in the house. You didn’t hear him come in, with the volume of your headphones turned up.

You startle a bit but quickly dismiss the surprise, returning your gaze to the TV screen.

“Hi baby,” you pout your lips seeking a kiss which he doesn’t refuse. You take one side of the headphones off, “Sorry I’m not looking at you, can you wait til I finish this game?”

“It’s okay, baby.” he reassures you, settling down behind you on the couch, placing you between his legs.

“How was practice?”

“As usual, but the coach took it a bit easier on us this time.”

“Oh, that’s fortunate!”

It’s not fortunate, it’s just practice before a match. And you should remember what usually comes before one of his matches, and he would like to remind you, but he’d feel selfish interrupting you, so he just sits quietly.

—

He moves his eyes from the phone to you when you curse once again at the video game. He looks at you for a few seconds and then glances at the clock.

He silently complains about how quickly time is passing and goes back to watching the video on his phone. He doesn't want to disturb you; he knows how important it is for you to win that battle in the video game and he doesn't want to interrupt your gaming night. But you're taking a really long time.

And he knows how long these gaming nights of yours can be. He doesn't want to go to sleep after 2 a.m.; he needs to be awake tomorrow.

He turns off his phone and sets it down next to him. He can't talk to you because you're wearing headphones and wouldn't hear him, so he places his hands on your hips and you jump slightly between his legs at the sudden contact.

"You scared me, babe." You chuckle and move the side of the headset without the microphone away from your ear. "Felix, Felix, you've got it, you've got it!" You almost shout to your friend on the microphone, but then a sigh escapes your lips as you feel your boyfriend's lips gently kissing the back of your neck. But not innocently. The kisses are wet and long, sometimes lightly sucking the skin.

And you start to grasp the situation.

"Fuck! I'm about to die!"

"Get to safety! I'm coming to help!" Felix says from the other end as his character runs toward yours.

"What are you trying to do?" You whisper to Changbin as you wait, turning your head to look at him.

"I know you know." He responds in a slightly pouty voice.

And it's at this moment that you remember. He has an important match tomorrow.

That’s why at the end of the game —naturally won— you say goodbye to your friend, ready to log off from the game.

“Go fuck your man.” He responds and your cheeks flush violently. “And tell him I said hi! Bye, Y/nnie!” He says, and before you can say anything, he exits the game.

“Why are you so red?” Changbin innocently asks you, and fuck, how much you just want to smash your lips against his to wipe that childlike expression off his face.

You don’t need to though, because he’s the first to unite your lips in a needy kiss. His tongue requests access to your mouth and you immediately part them to let him in.

It’s between heavy breaths, steady hands on hips and in hair that you stop, but only to undress.

And he doesn’t know if it’s from that time when you playfully measured arms with the other guys and he saw how small yours is compared to his, or from those comments you make about the size of his muscles compared to your body, or because right now your body seems to shrink when the loose clothing you were wearing is removed from it.

But what he does know is that his cock twitches at the sight.

You glance down to where it rests on your thigh, already half-hard, and smirk, a light blush covering your cheeks, “What was that for?”

His cheeks flush and he can’t bring himself to tell you, “You’re sexy.” He says instead, caressing your thighs with both hands, tracing your stretch marks with his fingertips. It’s not a lie though, you really are sexy.

But you know what it’s really for. You’ve noticed it for a while now, seeing it in the way his eyes fixate on you so intensely every time he lifts you up, emphasizing how small you seem in his strong arms, and in how every time he craves to have your hands on his chest, making them seem so small and his chest even bigger, and in how he squeezes his legs together every time you point it out.

You get up but only to sit on his lap. His hands don’t stop caressing you, reaching up to your ass, while your faces are so close they almost touch —your lips almost brushing.

“You’ll have to give me a good luck wish for tomorrow.” He smiles against your lips.

“Good luck.” You say cheekily.

“You are my luck.” He captures your lips again with his.

That’s right. It has become a habit; every night before a game he has sex with you, and every time the day after the game ends well. It has become a kind of good luck charm.

When he feels you shift, he interrupts the kiss. You sit on his lap now with your legs in front of you, knees bent upward with your pussy on display, placing a hand on his leg behind you to try to balance yourself.

You take his hard cock in your hand, watching the muscles of his abdomen tense and immediately relax, and you move it so it can hit your pussy, its tip right on your clit, eliciting a slight moan from both of you.

You slide it up and down, moving your hips, “Your cock is so thick, always stretches me so well.” You guide its tip to your entrance and tease him by moving it in and out a couple of times.

He groans, “Come on, put it in.” His breath is shaky and muscles tense, waiting for you to do something.

And there’s no need to be told twice. You let him in just like this, in this position, keeping your legs wide open so he can see clearly how he’s being sucked into your wet hole.

And he practically throbs with his eyes fixed on that spot as he feels the tight stretch his cock makes in your cunt.

“Mhh, tight pussy.”

And you move like that, legs spread wide, grinding on his lap, moving back and forth.

“Think you can take more?” He looks up at you. Yes, you can, but it’s always fun to play a bit.

“Yeah, but- you’re so big, you know how it ends.” you pout as you say the last words.

“I know you can do it, you’re my good girl.” He encourages you, “My pretty princess can do everything, can’t she?”

And he knows how it will end, you both know it, that’s why he talks to you like that. It doesn’t take long, in fact, before your legs start trembling and you feel a burning sensation spreading through them from the effort. It’s difficult to ride him with his thick thighs between your legs, forcing you to spread them so far.

Your pace falters and a frustrated huff leaves your lips. Changbin’s eyes settle on your face and he smiles.

“Aw bunny, everything okay?” He asks you, feigning concern, stroking your side where his hand was gripping tightly just a moment ago.

And you know he’s just pretending, because you know well how much he gets off on watching you struggle like this to take him.

A whimper escapes your lips.

“Aw, is it too big for you to take?” He fake pouts, not expecting an actual response from you. “Want me to help you, baby?” You quickly nod at his words.

And he doesn’t need to be told twice. His arms rest on your back and he reverses your positions without pulling out.

“Let me take care of you now, I’ll make you feel real good.”

And he does, so much so that your nails are now digging into the flesh of his biceps as he pounds into you, seeking the perfect angle to hit your most sensitive spot and make you come untouched on his cock.

You’ve told him so many times that these nights are for him, not for you, and that the focus should be on him, but he still wants to do his best for you to make you feel as good as possible.

His hands grab your arms, detaching them from his muscles and holding them steady from the wrists at the sides of your head.

“I know you really love my muscles,” he grins proudly, “And you love when I use them to hold you down like this, don’t you?”

You do, you both enjoy it. He loves seeing you so helpless beneath him, moans and gasps the only things you can manage to utter. And you love knowing you can’t do anything to free yourself because he’s too strong for you, and that you are completely at his mercy, for him to do whatever he wants with you.

“Bin, deeper, please,” you plead, “Spread me w-wider, however you want, I wan-wanna take all of you, want- to make you feel good.”

He groans at your words, at how desperately you want him to do whatever he pleases with you, “You’re too good to me, bunny.”

His arms move so that they end up under your knees, and his hands return to hold yours steady just as they were before.

It’s obscene. Almost humiliating for you, the way you completely surrender to him and how easily he has control over your body.

A lewd moan escapes his lips, finding himself balls-deep inside you.

“Bin, keep going, please don’t stop.”

“Are you- are you going to come?” He asks, and he’s close, you can clearly tell from his tense tone.

“I’m- I’m almost there.” You want to use a hand to reach between your bodies and touch yourself, to give yourself that last push to climax, but you remember you’re restrained when you try to move it. “B-Binnie, please, can you let go? I need-” your words are interrupted by a surprised moan as his hips give a sudden, stronger thrust.

“No, you don’t,” he asserts, “I can make you come like this too, I-I want to make you come like this.”

He’s done it before and knows how to do it, it’s just challenging, especially with how close he is now.

But oh, he manages it and does it really well.

Your body trembles as he rides you through your high and follows shortly after, pulling out of you and vigorously stroking himself, painting your cunt with white ropes.

Only a few minutes later, you’re lying in bed, cuddled together under the warm covers, his arms wrapped around your body.

“After this, I’m sure we’ll win tomorrow.” He says confidently.

“A good night of sex is just what gets you pumped, huh?” You laugh teasingly.

“Actually, it’s you who gets me pumped,” a smirk forms on his lips at your sweet laughter, “You’re my little lucky charm.”

[malinthebodyguard]

Young Royals is anti-monarchist propaganda (always has been) 

I think it’s fair to say that most of the fandom was quite happy with the finale. However, I’ve seen a handful of posts by people who were unhappy, specifically  those who were unhappy with Wille giving up his place in the line of succession. These criticisms range in everything from dismissing Wille’s choice (Wilhelm has made a harsh decision without thinking of the consequences, this won’t actually make the media circus around him go away), to those disappointed in how the monarchy in general was represented (Wille could have modernized the institution, no one in the show attempted to consider how the monarchy could be good, actually). I don’t want to invalidate anyone’s feelings about the finale. If you didn't like it, that’s more than ok and I don’t want to argue with anyone about their taste. 

But when it comes to criticism about Wilhelm giving up the throne,  I do find myself frustrated at what I see as a fundamental misunderstanding of what this show was trying to communicate. Young Royals, plain and simple, is a story that  denounces the incompatibility of antiquated and hierarchical institutions (Hillerska, the monarchy) with equality and justice. 

If you’ve had the displeasure of being my fandom friend you’ll know that I’ve spent the last 3 years yelling about how this show is about abolishing the monarchy. I even wrote a lengthy  fanfic with the sole excuse of having Wilhelm arrive at this conclusion. Still, I knew that whatever statement the show wanted to arrive at, we’d only really be getting to it at the end of the show. 

Seasons one and two were setting up all the characters on the chessboard for the end: Wilhelm is the Crown Prince, although he does not want to be. He and Simon are in love, but Wilhelm’s role drives a wedge between them. Erik’s legacy and August's spot next in line are keeping Wilhelm in his place.

 From episode one, I think the show was telling us about the many things that are wrong with the monarchy, but I don’t think it’s until season three that these discussions become more explicit. Is this why some people were disappointed by the ending? Maybe so. Still, I wanted to look at how season three in particular answers some of the questions or issues  people are bringing up regarding both the monarchy and the Wilhelm’s choice. 

What do you like about the monarchy? 

Season 3 Episode 4 is the first time we hear an explicit discussion about why the monarchy could potentially be a good institution. I’ve seen some people complain that the show didn’t give this idea enough thought. 

I completely disagree with this take: the short conversation Wille and Simon have in this episode  is succinct, but still effective at presenting both arguments in this debate. A  longer and more drawn out conversation would have been a bit unrealistic and probably boring to watch. These are not academics having a debate, but two teenagers who are talking about what for them is emotionally charged.

There’s also no need for a longer, more detailed discussion. Wilhelm does provide a very good answer to the question: The monarchy is there to unite the people. To be a neutral party in situations when the government cannot or will not interfere. 

A quick civics lesson: In parliamentary democracies, the monarch serves as the Head of State. 

This role is predominantly representative, although in many places the government is formed in the name of the monarch. This could, theoretically, grant them some political power-- since they could technically reject the winning party from forming a government. However, in most parliamentary monarchies, the King or Queen simply has to accept whatever decision is made based on election results.

However, the value of the Head of State is precisely in its apolitical nature. Regardless of who’s in power, the head of state is a neutral ambassador of the nation, both in and outside of their country. Their job is diplomatic and representative, and one that is thoroughly divorced from politics. This is what Wilhelm meant when he said that the monarchy was there to ‘unite the people’. Whenever I’ve spoken to pro-monarchy folks about their beliefs, they cite this as the reason why they like it. 

It’s easy to see why Wilhlem would latch on this as his main argument to defend the institution. I don’t think there is anything inherently bad about having a separate head of state that represents the country. I don’t think the major grip with this issue is the having a head of state, but the fact that the head of state is a hereditary position. Simon says this himself twice in this episode: the issue is not that the head of state exists, but that the head of state is not an elected position. Furthemore, the head of state is a role that is imposed on a person not by their talent as a public speaker or negotiator, but by a simple accident of birth. 

The job’s legitimacy or importance should not be above any individual’s right to autonomy and self-determination. Furthermore, considering that taxpayers are the ones who finance this position, shouldn’t they be able to elect who it is? 

Let’s imagine a scenario where a friend tells you they’ve gone into a career because everyone in their family works in that industry, and they simply had no choice in the matter. It wouldn’t even matter if they were good or bad, they had a job in this career guaranteed from birth. 

 Would you not be concerned that maybe your friend is unhappy for a rather unnecessary reason? Would you not think that perhaps someone who actually wanted the job would be better suited for it? Would you think it right for a company to hire someone simply because of their family history? Would you consider any of this fair? And what is so special about monarchy that makes us have a different answer for it than we would if the question was about law or medicine? 

You’ll always be famous. 

Another common criticism I’ve seen is that Wilhelm will inevitably regret his decision, especially once he realizes that public scrutiny will not be going away. This is true, Wilhelm will likely always  be a figure of public interest. But to me, this has always been a negative consequence of the monarchy, and I have a hard time seeing this is a valid reason why he should stay in it. 

From the second we meet him, we know Wilhelm is uncomfortable with both the public attention and the scrutiny placed on him. However, this goes a bit further than that. I’d argue than more than the  scrutiny itself,  Wilhelm is weighed down by having to keep a public image. Because, remember folks, Wilhelm is not merely an awkward teenage boy with acne and a crush. No, no, Wilhelm is the State. Wilhelm is going to be a publicly-funded representative of the nation . This means, of course, that there’s a narrative, as he mentions himsef, that needs to be put forward. One that’s generic, serious, and unproblematic: 

From the get go, Wilhelm is uncomfortable with the inauthentic and performative aspect of his role.This is a constant we see with Wilhelm in seasons one and two: every ‘performance’ he has to do fills him with nausea, anxiety, or some sort of discomfort.

In season three, Wilhelm begins acquiescing to this performance. Uncomfortable as he may be, for most of season 3 he’s accepted that this is his role. However, the attention this season shifts from Wilhelm to Simon, who’s now the one facing public scrutiny. The difference is that, unlike Wille, there’s no role for Simon to play. Nothing about who he is or what he believes is compatible with the public image the monarchy is putting forward. The only thing he can do in this situation is disappear, and Wilhelm is tasked with having to ask that of him. 

I know a lot of people were exasperated at Simon’s very bad and clumsy social media presence. I’m not gonna argue that my boy wasn’t being a bit cringey, because he absolutely was. But I think the larger commentary here has more to do with the expectation that these two teenagers have to censor and edit themselves to comply with a particular PR image. 

Ultimately, the criticism that Wilhelm will always be famous leads us straight back to the institution. Why does an underage boy have the same PR expectations as a politician? Why is a teenager dating his classmate + being cringe online justification for doxxing him? Unfortunately, no abdication is really going to undo any of this, and things are certainly going to be crazy once Wilhelm announces he’s stepping down .

However, this time around both he and Simon will at least have the agency to decide what they want to do with their public image, including the decision to disappear from the public completely if that’s what they want.

Queer representation 

This a sentiment that has been in the fandom for some time now. This was the main argument why some people wanted Wille to stay in the monarchy. Sure, the institution has always been about bloodlines and tradition. But wouldn’t it be so nice to have Wilhelm as a symbol for the queer community? I’ve always found this idea a bit shallow. I’m not sure how much of a symbol of a queer and progressive country Wilhelm could be, when the whole idea is predicated on absolutely no one having a choice in the matter. Is it really impressive to accept the queerness of the guy you already had no choice in accepting?  

There’s three scenes in season 3 where the potential Wilhelm -and by extension Simon-  could have for the queer community come up.  Farima brings it up in the first episode, but the framing here is reversed. Wilhelm isn’t serving the LGBTQ community by being a queer Prince, but the monarchy is using Wilhelm (and his queerness) to appear progressive.

The show, however, does humor this idea with the May 1st photo. We see what Simon and Wilhelm could potentially do for the community by simply existing as who they are: they’re inspirational. It gives Simon, briefly, hope that maybe something good could come out of this. 

But this moment is quite literally framed by politics. It doesn't matter that Simon is not participating in that manifestation, anything that is slightly connected with politics is a challenge to neutrality of the monarchy. This same idea is stated more explicitly int the next episode, when Wilhelm is reviewing the options for his charity.

Ultimately, any action significant enough to be truly impactful, would be bordering the limits of what could be considered political. He's got to stick it out with these quite frankly boring and limited themes, all for the sake of staying on the very narrow lane of things that are not political.

The weight of the crown. 

Stories about Kings and Queens usually carry the same fundamental tension of duty vs self. 

In order to rule, our protagonist has to sacrifice themselves, usually for the sake of their country and people. The Crown is an excellent example of this type of story. Sacrifice in that series is framed as something noble and selfless. 

Young Royals started out with this same fundamental tension, but the main difference is that Young Royals has framed this debate as a question: 

Why should Wilhelm give himself up, his happiness, the love of his life, and  his mental well-being? What’s so important and valuable about this institution that requires this sacrifice?

Wilhelm’s journey is about accepting and voicing his answer. He doesn’t want to be Crown Prince, he doesn’t want to be King. 

But by virtue of taking part of this journey with him, we’re able to examine this question from a different perspective: Is this institution valuable enough to justify all of this? I think the show is inviting all of us to evaluate this situation and arrive at the conclusion that it isn’t.

Even someone like August, who wanted this, is weighed down by the realization of just how much the crown weighs. Of course, a big part of the fandom probably doesn’t live in countries with parliamentary monarchies. Still, considering the worldwide popularity of the British Royals, for example, I still think it’s a worthwhile exercise to question the validity of these institutions. Are they really worth sustaining? And if they’re not, why should we continue to drag them on into the present, citing tradition?

[momentomori24]

[This has been sitting in my draft for a while lol]

When it comes to Curly's failings, I always see people bring up his obvious failure to protect Anya and him prioritising Jimmy, who was the rapist in that situation. Which is completely valid btw and we should rake him through the coals for that alone even more. But I also see too many people saying that Curly "didn't enable Jimmy" or playing softball for his actions. And I could maybe see where that comes from if that incident was the only thing we had to point to-- but that wasn't all he did, is it? Curly being indifferent or not taking Jimmy's mistreatment and belittlement of Anya seriously was hinted at so much earlier than that.

Namely, the very first time we play from Curly's point of view. Let's just skip the fact that Curly was putting everyone in danger by not taking his psych evals seriously and simply giving the same answers to pass them even tho he was shown literal minutes after this scene being clearly not-sane, and go straight to the point I actually wanna get into. Which is this:

These scenes in isolation wouldn't be that bad. From his pov, it's played off as comical and it is. Jimmy being a brony (not really lmao) and getting playfully dragged over it is funny. But unfortunately this is the first example out of many for Curly's complacency. Anya is complaining about Jimmy not taking his psych evals or her seriously, which is easy to believe considering how much he rags on her for "not being a good nurse" (she kept Curly alive on hopes and dreams how dare you). So he keeps making her do silly and inappropriate reports she clearly doesn't wanna do, which is kinda shitty (also borders on harassment). But rather than actually saying something about Jimmy's behaviour or even acknowledging how it sucks he says this:

Mate, that's not a good thing 💀 He's clearly aware that the problem is Jimmy's lack of respect for Anya specifically. He knows that if he, his friend and a man in power, were the one doing the evals Jimmy wouldn't try that disrespect. But it's Anya, a meek woman who ranks lower than him so he thinks he can get away with it (which he DOES), and Curly's shown as comfortable in knowing that. He doesn't chew Jimmy out for making Anya uncomfortable nor does he reassure her that he will do something about it. All he does is take it off her hands this once and helps Jimmy power through it to get a good diagnosis (even tho we know he's DEFINITELY not sane either). He doesn't even mention Anya's discomfort or confront him on his inappropriate behaviour, just teases Jimmy in good fun instead because he doesn't think of it as anything serious. It's subtle and pretty minor in comparison to everything else, but I think it's worth pointing out. Especially because this convo takes place after Jimmy had assaulted her, which makes this so much worse.

If you need any more evidence of Curly being an enabler you need not look further than Anya herself. And I'm not just talking about the way he failed her here-- I'm talking about Anya's own view of Curly and the way said view influences her actions.

Just look at her choice of wording. "What would you have done". This is in response to him saying that she could've come to him if she were feeling stressed, which she-- in his eyes-- didn't. The question itself implies that she had no faith in Curly to actually help despite his insistence that he would've, which I think is significant because it shows that she's very much aware of Curly's shortcomings when it comes to her situation AND it's one of the first (or the first time) she actually verbalised her lack of trust towards him or anyone directly. Prior to this scene she had told him about her rape and the rapist, presumably because she trusted him to handle it. And he dismissed her because the rapist was his best friend, and that evidently deeply scarred her. Enough so that she secretly took the gun and hid it someplace else and didn't even tell Curly were that was, because she knows that if Curly has access to it there's a so much greater chance Jimmy will have too, insinuated by the line "the least I can do is make sure he never gets it either". Speaking about the gun:

It sucks so bad that this perception of him isn't even inaccurate nor unjustified. That despite everything Jimmy had done to her and everything he could still do to her, he'd very likely still not allow her access to the gun for protection. Because that's exactly what he didn't do anyway. He didn't attempt to keep her safe from Jimmy, instead he just pretended that nothing was wrong and still let Jimmy's belittlement of her pass. He didn't give her the gun after the incident, because she wouldn't have hid the case if he had. Despite his desperate reassurance that he'd do anything, he did nothing but make it worse for her and she KNOWS that. It's so frustrating knowing he entrusted the axe to Swansea when he needed it but not the gun to Anya when she needed it too. Also this:

The fact that his knee-jerk reaction to her admitting that she's pregnant was "Who would you--" is so fucked, especially considering she's already told him what happened. "Who would you" what? Who would you fuck? Who would you have sex with? That choice of wording drives me up a wall-- SHE wouldn't and didn't do anything or anyone. That was JIMMY. The potential sentence implies that she had any choice or agency in her pregnancy. She didn't. And the fact that Curly had to ask "who" insinuates that he's been putting Jimmy's action out of sight and out of mind the whole time, choosing to not think about them or what happened to Anya at all. And considering he still made her do Jimmy's evaluations despite being able to do them himself and literally didn't even think of making sure she gets psych evals done too--especially AFTER getting sexually assaulted--that might actually be the case (I haven't seen anyone make a stink about that piece of info so I'm going to because what kinda colossal fuck up IS that??).

I vaguely had a post like this in mind but seeing so many people be like "well Anya did some wrong stuff too like leaving Curly alone with Jimmy but you don't get mad at HER for that so why is Curly not doing anything about Jimmy being alone with Anya so different??" actually makes me want to blow some people up. Jimmy's an abuser, sure, but Anya has no real reason to believe that he'd actually harm Curly. From her perspective, they were close, close enough that Curly would not only let Jimmy continuously disrespect her but also get away with assaulting her too. That, and she knows that Jimmy was closer to Curly than anyone and more likely to be civil around him than he ever was to her. She has barely any reasons to suspect Jimmy would harm Curly when they're alone. Curly, on the other hand, has every fucking reason on the planet to think Jimmy would harm her when they're alone. He knows he raped her (likely in her room at night too). He knows that he sexually harasses her. He knows that he doesn't respect her at all. And that was BEFORE the crash. Anya tried insisting on giving Curly his medicine, only for Jimmy to keep aggressively insisting that he'll take care of it despite her protests. Curly didn't try to keep them separate at all even though he was the Captain and had the power to do so. And this should go without saying, but leaving your rapist alone with his best friend that he was close to and enabled/protected him and leaving your friend alone with the woman he raped (and might have repeatedly assaulted given his free access to her) is NOT THE SAME and I'm going to start chucking some people down a waterfall because what the fuck is that argument 💀 Actually leave it to the fandom of the game where the rape of a woman is the catalyst for the events that unfold to use her trauma to defend the guy that enabled it in the first place. Bloody hell.

The reason why this whole Curly discourse pisses me off is because it-- from what I can see-- ONLY brings up his failures 1-0 days before the crash and the Dead Pixel scene (or all the discussion around other points are drowned out by those two). Those scenes, while important to talk about, are not the only things he's done, and focussing on those as the only things is a mistake that comes short of understanding the issue. When it comes to Curly the main defences I see for him are "he was trying not to escalate the situation" and "he was trying to keep things under control the best he can" and "he was waiting for the right time to help Anya", but those don't work when you look at the bigger picture of everything he's done.

He half-assed through his psych eval despite clearly not being sane (and KNOWING he's barely sane, he literally admits it to Jimmy's face). He still continued to task her with Jimmy's psych evals. He brushed over Jimmy's sexual harassment of her as a joke. He didn't think about making sure she got psych evals done herself after being raped. He gave Swansea the axe but didn't give Anya the gun despite it being for "unrest amongst the crew" (whatever the hell THAT means). He let her assault slip his mind that she had to remind him. He's literally a blond man. He took no action to hold Jimmy responsible for anything, and prioritised how his violation of Anya would affect him rather than her. He ignored her demands for him to get rid of Jimmy. He still allowed Jimmy free reign of the ship as co-pilot even after he was openly fantasising about killing everyone and had a major motive and the means to do just that. He was potentially thinking of making her miscarry to cover up what happened. He was so accustomed to her sucking up being disrespected and disturbed that he didn't even notice a difference in her behaviour until she hid the fucking gun. There's so much other shit he's done and hasn't done, and not talking about them or glossing over them makes it so easy for people to argue that he isn't actually an enabler or just minimise the severity of his neglect.

And while I'm already dragging Curly through the mud, I might as well just drag Swansea too. I've seen too many people being like "Anya should've told Swansea instead" and "Swansea was the one that actually took responsibility". Like, y'all realise he's not that much better than Curly, right? He already knew about what happened to Anya-- he admits it to Jimmy's face-- but he didn't do shit. He knew, but he still got completely shitfaced for months despite her earlier protestation to that (for very understandable reasons). He knew, but he still let Jimmy have the axe AND be alone with Anya while having it. He knew, but when Anya locked herself in the Medical and Daisuke and Jimmy asked for his help he didn't budge nor really showed any care. He knew, but the reason he finally decided to do something about Jimmy wasn't Anya, it was Daisuke. Her suffering and her eventual death weren't enough for him to take action either.

This game, on top of everything else, is a great depiction of rape culture. It doesn't just include the rapists, but the people (mostly men) that stay silent, do nothing, make excuses for and protect the perpetrator for whatever reason, and Swansea and Curly (Curly way more so than Swansea) are both active contributors to the environment that allowed for evil to flourish and continue unhindered until it destroyed them all. And while that arguably doesn't make them evil themselves or as bad as Jimmy, they are so much more a part of the bigger problem than the fandom likes to admit.

[Ok since this is kinda gaining a bit of traction please consider helping these guys out here, here and here. Thanks!]

[schrodinger-swriter]

Can I Ask for Husks fluff alphabet?

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, Z preatty please?🥺

(I'm sorry I almost hit the limit. I'm obsessed with him😭)

A, C, I, J, K, N, P, and Z for Husk

No need to apologize! If I wanted a smaller limit I would have said so in the original post! Nothing wrong in wanting to get the most out of something C:

I hope you enjoy this, Anon, it was fun playing with Husk's personality in this! He reminds me of a grumpy grandfather.

Confession, I thought for the longest time Husk was a.. well dog. I.. Don't know why I thought that, perhaps it's the face markings and his name being "Husk" (Like Husky) that caused my confusion. For two years after the pilot I was... rather dumb..

What do you mean Husk is 75.

ATTRACTION:

He enjoys those who are more honest with themselves and aren't pushovers. He can hardly stand those in denial. He calls it as he sees it when he's pushed to do so. This is less of an attraction thing, but I feel he would be most compatible with someone he can be real with and can be able to deal with his bluntness. In a way, you keep each other in check.

CUDDLES:

Small and soft, warm too. He's a cat, so it feels like snuggling into a large cat! I don't think he would be too deep into PDA, the most he would be comfortable with doing is quick kisses when someone else is passing by.. usually... more on that later. Though, now that it's mentioned, I don't think he would be too big on physical affection all that much.. now don't get me wrong he loves a good back massage every now and then, but it's going to take him a while to curl up next to you for cuddling. Little spoon.

INJURY:

Would ask you what the hell happened while wrapping your wound.. Goes from scolding you for being a jackass if you just. Threw yourself into danger, but will go on to say you have some guts. Stern when it comes to you taking it easy so you can heal properly... is not phased by any false play ups of your pain, though depending on his mood he might let it pass. For a bit..

If he's the one injured he's stubborn, insisting that it's not that big of a deal. Dresses and cleans it appropriately, all while nursing a bottle of booze. Dismissive when talking about what led to the injury. Might be a little standoffish if you try to take care of him, especially if you come off as trying to baby him.

JEALOUSY:

He deals with his jealousy the same way he deals with all of his other problems. Alcohol. He sees another man chatting you up? Alcohol. Sees you laughing a little too much at some chumps joke? Alcohol. Someone talks brings up how you seem so lively around another person? Alcohol. I think you get the point. However, if it's a case of you being pushed into a situation you don't want to be in, he's going to pick up on your discomfort and drag you away... does not make it seem like you have somewhere else to be, no, he just tells the other person to fuck off as he takes you away. His fur sometimes fluffs up in annoyance. Pulling that pin from the C section, in regards to PDA, he will tug you to his side to further push the effect that you're taken.

KISSES:

Bunny kisses. You know, you two touch noses and nuzzle a bit. He doesn't allow it often, but it is something you two do every now and again. He defaults to kissing you on the mouth, quick pecks usually aren't for him, though... Sometimes leans over the counter of his bar to steal a kiss when no one else is around. This goes for both giving and receiving!

NO:

He can't be with someone who heavily relies on physical touch, it's simply not for him and he can only compromise so much. That's not to say he wouldn't try, because he would. However you can only sacrifice your comfort so much before it becomes a problem, you know? I don't think he would do well with people who complain.. not vent, more so whine about everything. He seems far too irritable to be able to deal with that in his day to day, outside of the bar.

As for actual deal breakers within an established relationship... I think it would have to be a stubborn person. Funny, coming from him since he's stubborn. But Husk appears to still go with the flow of everything, even eventually befriending the rest of the cast. No, when I say stubborn I mean people who can't take their heads out of their asses to see that there's other things to worry about and shit like that. He can only give you so many reality checks before throwing in the towel. Bonus negative points if combined with the complaining thing.

PETNAMES:

Do not call him "Kitten" he might actually be upset by that. On top of that, it's so... basic... predictable. It's not special. No, something that basic wouldn't work on him... and that's not considering the fact he himself isn't too big on petnames. Though.. seeing that he died in the 70s, I enjoy that the thought that he defaults to names from that decade. I believe he would call you "Dollface" or even just "Doll"

It'd take him a while to grow used to the idea of being called anything other than his.. name.. but he looks like a "Pumpkin" or a "Lovey"

.. just don't call him that around Angel, he won't hear the end of it..

ZZZ:

Tends to sleep either sprawled out of curled into a ball. Really it depends, though more often than not he sleeps sprawled out. Doesn't like being held while he sleeps, so cuddling while you guys doze off is off the table. Though, he wouldn't mind you scratching between his ears or shoulder blades sometimes... maybe you'll even hear him purr. Will take a decent amount of time before you get to the "sleeping in the same bed" stage. Old man snores, so good luck with that.

[ghostsforghosts]

A Mutually Beneficial Deal

COD Regency AU... I've been holding off on making this because I don't really enjoy writing period-typical homophobia (or really homophobia in general), but this AU keeps pulling me in. And I had a vision of an idea, so here I am. If you haven't already guessed, Reader is male. Summary: You were a baron, the lowest rank in the peerage and you had only gotten the title because you were the only son in your family. Your father had died recently, giving you the title because he had no brother to give it to. Since you were of low ranking among the ton, your family was in desperate need of marrying into a wealthier family. However, you were introverted and not really looking forward to marrying a woman, so your mother's attention switched to your baby sister who was the oldest of your sisters. As the only man of the house, it was up to you to find a suitor for you sister. Word Count: 2, 145

"You can't just go marrying another Baron," your mother said to your sister, Susannah. She sounded exhausted with her, having to repeat this several times ever since your father died. "We need more respect in the ton now that your father is gone, so you need to marry up. You need marry…an Earl. An Earl will help us with the debts your bastard father left us."

Susannah pouted at your mother, but the pouting didn’t last long as your mother glared at her. “Mama, please. I understand why not a baron, but an Earl? What difference is there between an Earl and a Viscount? A Viscount can make us financially stable,” she complained.

Your mother tutted at her, really displeased that Susannah seemed to have her head in the clouds with how often your mother had told why her betrothed couldn't be a Viscount. "Foolish girl, look up from your books and pay attention from time to time. The reason why not a Viscount is because Earls are guaranteed to have enough money for our debts and we will gain so much more respect if you snag an Earl instead of a Viscount."

You tapped your foot, wondering why you had been called here if your mother was just going to ignore you and berate your sister. You stood up, instinctively smoothing out your coat as you did so.

"Mama, I have paperwork to get to, please excuse me."

You moved to leave, but your mother wasn't having it.

"There's nothing more important than ensuring your sister gets married to a reputable man," your mother answered, giving you a withering look. She was pleased when you sat back down, continuing now that she knew you were listening. "Perhaps, while you stood near the walls during balls, you've noticed anyone who is a good suitor for your sister. You need to do more in this situation than be Susannah's chaperone. I can't do everything here."

"I hear mostly of scandals, Mama." You tried your best not to shift beneath her gaze, knowing she wouldn't like you showing the slightest hint of fear. "Most of the men I hear about are not men Susannah should be with, considering their rakish reputations. But I can certainly make more of an effort to find suitable men for her," you added, wanting to appease her.

Your mother smiled, but it was a harsh smile that would fade quickly if you didn’t do what you said. “Good, I’m glad I can count on you, {Name}.”

She then turned back to Susannah, dismissing you with a wave.

You didn’t hesitate to get up once more and to finally leave the drawing room, knowing that if you had stayed, she would’ve dragged you back into the conversation. And you did really have paperwork to do.

Once you got to your study—it was actually your late father's but it was now yours since you were a baron—, you sat down with a sigh. You had so much to do ever since your father died and your mother just kept piling things onto your plate. You didn't know when you would get to finding Susannah a suitor, but you'd have to make time.

The day passed by and you had busied yourself with paperwork, telling your mother you'll skip out on eating dinner with them since you were going to go to the gentleman's club in search of a suitor for Susannah. Your mother was happy, so she let you go.

Going by carriage, you arrived at the gentleman's club you've been a member of since you were of age to do so.

It wasn't the most lavish and expensive gentleman's club in the ton, but it was enough for you. And it was enough for some earls too, which would help in seeing who was an eligible suitor.

"My Lord Baron!" The man who owned the gentleman's club, Edgard Shakerley, said as you stepped inside the club. He greeted you warmly, despite not knowing you that well. "I'm glad to see you here again, Lord {Name}. We've missed you and we're sorry for your loss."

You merely smiled in greeting, not liking the way everyone seemed to extend their condolences every single time they saw you. You made your way to the main room of the club, sitting down after getting a drink.

Thankfully, the very small group of friends you had made while being a member of the gentlemen's club were also there and you sat with them. They knew better than to offer their condolences, instead asking about how your workload was.

"I have so many people to write back to and so many payments to do, it's exhausting," you complained, happy to have people to talk to. You lounged in your chair, oblivious to everyone except your friends. "And on top of all of that, my mother is tasking me with the job of finding a good enough suitor for Susannah. Which is why I came here, hoping to find someone reputable. An Earl."

One of your friends, a Viscount named Griffith Yorke, perked up at that. "A reputable Earl, you say? I have just the man in mind, and he's coming this way."

Before you could persuade him not to call out to his friend, Griffith had done so with no prompting.

"My Lord Earl! It's so good to see you! Come, Lord Riley. Sit with us."

You turned your head to look at the man Griffith was talking to, seeing a huge, scarred man who was walking with a cane. You knew this man, but mostly everyone did.

He had brown hair and brown eyes that were haunted, his stature tall and built. He filled out his clothes wonderfully and moved gracefully even with the limp he had gotten five years ago after returning home wounded from the war. His cane was made of oak wood, its shine lost due to years of the earl using it, his clothes perfect even as he moved.

Despite being upset at your friend calling the earl over, you couldn't help but agree that Lord Earl Riley was an honorable man. He was involved in no scandal that you had ever heard of and all that the gossip the ton spread about him were just of them hoping he'd take a wife soon. There were no rumors of debts he piled up or rumors of him having premarital sex with debauched women.

He was just a regular man, who simply was not one to socialize much. He seemed a lot like you in that regard.

"Everyone, this is Lord Simon Riley," Griffith said, gesturing to Lord Riley when the lord had stopped in front of the group.

Everyone greeted the earl and introduced themselves in turn, a chair being pulled up for him. You ended up sitting side by side as everyone else asked the earl how he was and what he was doing at the gentlemen's club.

Somehow, though you expect it was Griffith's doing, you end up sitting with just Lord Riley an hour later. Everyone gave some excuse or the other for needing to leave, bidding you both goodnight. Griffith was the last one to leave and he whispered something in Lord Riley's ear before leaving.

You stared at the bottom of your fourth glass, feeling the buzz of the alcohol. "I need a suitor," you blurted out, more inebriated than you thought you were. You cleared your throat, still not looking Lord Riley in the eyes but you looked up in his general direction. "My sister, Susannah, needs a suitor. A reputable one and an Earl."

Lord Riley raised an eyebrow, drawing your attention to the jagged knife scars on his face. "I do need a wife," he said surprisingly, taking a sip of his own drink. "The debutantes keep swarming me every time marriage season comes. It'd be nice to have a reason for them to back off."

"Are…" Your throat felt like there was a rock in there and you swallowed hard, trying to get the words out of your mouth. "Are you suggesting you marry my sister?" you asked, wanting to leave no room for misunderstandings.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Lord Riley was still holding eye contact with you, refusing to look away whereas you couldn't bear to look into his eyes for too long. "You want a suitor for your sister and I want a wife to make the other women leave me alone. It seems like a beneficial situation to the both of us to me."

You couldn't stay help yourself but reveal the entire situation, giving the earl more information than your mother probably wanted you to give a potential suitor. You talked about all of the debts your father had wracked up while he was alive, how his debtors were still wanting money despite his untimely death.

By the time you finished saying everything, you two were one of the last few lounging in the gentlemen's club, the only lights being the candles which casted a soft golden glow on your huddled figures. You both had lowered your voices, knowing that this subject shouldn't be loud for others to hear.

Lord Riley was so close to you now, his long legs brushing against yours with every small shift of his body in his chair. "I'm surprised you're not also marrying this season, since you could marry up as well and get a sizable dowry from your future wife's father," he said, but his words weren't judgmental but curious.

He was curious about you, showing you attention most high-ranking men in the ton wouldn't. It was certainly something new to have someone so popular among everyone else be willingly sitting with you for this long.

"I don't really want to marry a woman," you admitted after a while, finding the strength to do so. You were worried Lord Riley would turn you in to the authorities, but you only saw the same non-judgmental look on his face he had been sporting the entire time you talked. "I know I will have to, eventually. But I just can't fall in love with women and it feels wrong to marry one when I know it'd be a loveless marriage."

"I'm the same way," Lord Riley answered, giving you the same sincerity you gave him. He sighed, wiping away the condensation on his glass with his gloved thumb. "But most marriages are loveless at the start and to be respected, we have to hide away our true selves. Your sister… I'm sure she's an amazing woman, but I will never love her. I can, however, give her and your family financial stability and status that will allow her and you to live comfortably."

You honestly couldn't ask for a better solution to your family's financial situation, but you knew that you shouldn't solidify anything until your sister agrees. She was, after all, the one whom Lord Riley would be marrying.

You stood up suddenly, placing your glass haphazardly on the table before you. "I should go, but I will write to you with the answer to the deal you propose. I just first have to talk to Susannah about this," you said, bowing to Lord Riley. "Goodnight, my lord."

You turned to walk away, but Lord Riley's hand reached over to grip your wrist. His fingers wrapped around your wrist quite easily, leaving just a little bit of space between his fingers since you were no dainty man.

"If your sister agrees to this arrangement, perhaps we don't have to resign ourselves to being alone in our desires." His brown eyes bore into yours, his words causing shivers down your spine. "We don't even have to act on them, we can just bond over being in the same situation. Just think about it, okay? I'll settle for just seeing you because of my courting of Susannah, if that's what you want."

Your heart soared at the offer, wanting to say yes. For so long, you have hid your true self and your desires from your friends and you longed to be truthful with someone. You yearned to have someone know what you were going through, to have someone who could understand and who you could understand in return.

But the offer was not one that could be rushed. You'd need time to see if that was what you wanted or if you wanted to be professional with Lord Riley.

So you merely nodded, glad that was all the answer the man needed before he let go of your wrist. You took one last look before bidding him goodnight once more, turning on your heels afterwards and leaving.

It seemed like your family's luck was turning and there was a light at the end of the tunnel. If your sister took the offer, that is.

Flower banner made by @/dollywons and reblog & mdni dividers made by @/cafekitsune

Requests are open!

[lil-binuu]

If he hits you once

TRIGGER WARNING: manipulation, possessiveness, domestic violence.

I'm a little late to the yandere party (sorry @peppymintdreams i couldn't help it)

This is fiction, not canonically accurate, and not romantic. (I do NOT condone any romanticisation of any kind of abuse.)

If you're underage, be weary as this is quite heavy and not like my usual content.

It is a bit weird to write this stuff, but I wanted to explore the idea of what barista would do in a situation where they realise that their life is not, in fact, a wattpad story and sometimes you can mistake someone who is actually really dangerous and a horrible person, as someone who you love.  And while ofc, this is not Elias canonically, i still wanted to write what he could be like as a more realistic person - especially because the abuse from his father would have affected him regardless, whether it turned into his own aggression or not.

830 words

packing your things to move to another safe house has brought up the topic of your freedom.

“Elias-“

“I’m doing this to keep you safe.”

He already knew what you were trying to talk about. 

“I- I know, but- I want to have freedom. I need to have freedom.”

“You already do.” He replied, blunt and rude. 

“No, I don’t. I can’t speak to my friends, or family, I can't even go outside.”

“You can’t when it’s this dangerous. Do you have any idea how easily you could die if I’m not there to protect you?” 

You hesitated. “I-I know, but I-”

“You don’t stand a chance out there, not without me.” 

You swallowed. You knew Elias was protecting you in a way you couldn’t yourself, but he didn’t have to say it like that. 

Elias stepped towards you, taking your hand. “You know I just want to protect you.” 

You nodded, eyes dropping to the floor. “I know.” 

“So let’s not fight about this.” He wrapped his arms around you in a hug. “You know I’m right anyway. You’re weak, Y/n. You can’t look after yourself, you need me.” 

You frowned. Maybe it was true and you just couldn’t accept it. Elias was there to protect you, why would you try to argue otherwise? He only wants what’s best for you. 

Elias pulled back, facing you with his eyebrows raised, expecting. 

“I’m sorry.” You answered, fulfilling his request. 

But why should you be sorry? It was a legitimate worry, your freedom. Didn’t Elias want you to have freedom too?  

“Come on, we need to keep packing.”

Elias turned away from you, back to the bag he was packing full of clothes. You couldn’t  allow him to change the subject, not when your freedom was at stake.

“Elias,” you sighed, “I wasn’t done talking-“

“Well I am.” His raised voice thundering over your own.

You don’t think Elias had ever spoken to you like this before. Like he didn’t even care about you.

“You can’t make me live like this!”

“I can and I will.” His words cut into you like a knife. This was a side of Elias you had never seen. 

He had never spoken to you like this before. He had never argued with you, never disregarded your feelings, but all of a sudden your concerns were dismissed. Your voice was dismissed.

You could only stand there and stare at him. 

“It doesn’t have to be like-“

“Are you trying to get yourself killed? Elias shouted, shutting you down completely.

“You seriously think you would still be alive if it weren’t for me?” 

Your frustration got the better of you.

“I don’t need you to protect me!” You yelled. 

A hand came down quickly onto your face. 

You froze. 

The side of your face almost numb from the impact. You could hardly register what just happened. 

You slowly looked back to Elias, swallowing as tears began to flood your eyes. 

His chest rising and falling quickly, you could see how angry he was. But did he just hit you? 

After protecting you for so long, promising to keep you safe, you never thought Elias would be the one to hurt you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have protested against him so much. You didn’t need to anger him, if only you just listened to what he said without complaining. 

But his anger was now imprinted on your skin. 

Elias took a step towards you, reaching out his arm. Instantly you brought up your hands in front of your face. 

“Baby, why’d you flinch?”

You looked at him through the barrier of your arms, bringing your defence down as you realised he hadn’t hit you a second time. 

“I- I..” You choked on your excuse, tears rolling down your face.

“Baby?” He exclaimed, his bittersweet concern almost mocking.  

“You know I would never hurt you, right?” 

You blinked up at him, confused and scared.

He wouldn’t hurt you? He wouldn’t? But your face was red and stinging.

“B-but.. You..” Your hand raised to the side of your face, gently touching the injury. 

“Ah, but I didn’t mean to. I just got so angry, babe. You know I can’t help it.” 

“W- what?” you whispered, searching his eyes. 

He leaned down to your face. 

“Don’t argue with me and you won’t get hurt.” 

You finally realised what you had gotten yourself into. Elias wasn’t some protector, no, he was just another man who made empty promises to keep you around. His words were just lies, sweet lips and a sweet voice in the hopes that you would believe his sweet facade. 

Now you just felt stupid. Why on earth would you think that putting your heart and soul into someone like him would work out? It doesn’t matter how much you like him, under all the leather and chains, he’s just another man with issues.  

And you knew you needed to leave. There was nothing else for you to do.

Silently, you continued to pack. But you weren’t going to a safe house or staying with Elias any longer. You were getting out.

yualll this is kinda shit but whatev

Remember; If they hit you once, they'll hit you again.

And to all of my beautiful people out there, if someone treats you badly in any way it's never ever because of you and you are not alone. Call me up i'll beat their ass. Stay safe <3

[autisticlancemcclain]

The first bout of whispering, Shiro can ignore. He’s a teacher by trade, after all. Astronaut, sure. Paladin, even. But he always expected to be a teacher, trained for it, and he knows when you put a group of teenagers in a room and expect them to start learning by lecture, there’s going to be some whispering. He’d be concerned if there wasn’t, frankly.

But as it keeps happening, again and again, to the point where it’s almost constant, Shiro begins to lose his patience.

“Lance, Hunk,” he says, catching himself long before then. He tries to smile, gentle but firm. “Everything okay?”

The two boys clam up immediately. Lance even begins to lean slightly away from Hunk, although Shiro’s not sure he notices.

Shiro frowns, puzzled at the reaction. That’s — uncommon. He’s seen embarrassed, seen sheepish, seen unbothered, even seen downright rude, but Lance looks almost… afraid. And Hunk looks at him with a lot more anxiety than the situation calls for, but Shiro is beginning to notice that that’s just Hunk.

The both mutter some semblance of apology, and Shiro moves on quickly, unwilling to dwell on the incident too long.

For the rest of the briefing, he keeps an eye on them. He’s still focused, of course, as their break-in and recon on a nearby Empire warship is not only hugely dangerous, but will also be hugely beneficial, but he lets his notes do a lot of the talking for him. He flits his eyes to the pair every so often, and while Hunk meets his eyes on occasion, smiling slightly, Lance keeps his head down, hunched over his tablet.

Shiro notices that the tablet is powered off. He doesn’t write a single note.

His shoulders are hunched up to his ears.

———

“Alright, kiddo, good job.”

Keith grins, stepping backwards and bowing to finish the fight. Shiro bows back, matching his smile.

“You did great.”

“I know,” Keith says cheekily. “You’re getting easier and easier to beat. Probably because you’re elderly.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Am I.”

His annoying little brother hums, completely unconcerned. He steps off to the side and starts swinging around his training stick, very clearly showing off. “Mhm. It was super easy to fight you. I just went whoosh, smack, bam! —” he punctuates every sound with a swing and slash of the stick — “and every hit just landed. Honestly, I think a punching bag would have been more of a challenge. Adam is a way better spar partner than you. I wish I was shot into space with him.”

Shiro’s eye twitches. It’s a clear goad, he knows it is. Keith isn’t even trying to hide it. He’s a twerp with too much energy and too much experience pressing all of Shiro’s buttons — a favourite button of his, of course, being the bit of…healthy competition Shiro has always had with his boyfriend.

(He’s well aware of the irony. He hears Adam pointing and laughing in his head every time he endures Keith’s complaining about Lance pulling his mullet, so to speak. In fact keeping his mouth shut about the parallels is the only thing keeping him from throwing Keith down the laundry chute. He’s waiting for a moment when the reveal can be well and truly devastating.)

Shiro manages, with herculean strength, to step away from his turd of a brother, putting his training stick away.

“I am leaving,” he says loudly, pointedly turning away. “I said I’d train one hour with you and not a second more.”

He feels Keith’s pout more than sees it. “Coward.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shiro snorts, waving his hand dismissively. He hears swishing sounds, and the clicks of buttons — Keith is starting up his own training. Again. “Don’t be late for dinner or I’ll send Lance after you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t maim him,” Keith mutters. “Sometimes I just want to wring his neck.”

Shiro is very familiar with that feeling. Or at least the raving about it. He used to feel great pleasure in driving Adam to that point, just because he was hot when he was mad. But Shiro values his limbs — or at least what’s left of them — where they are, so he keeps the comments to himself as he makes his way out of the training room, meandering back to his own quarters.

He takes his time showering and redressing, knowing he’s got some time before dinner. He thinks Hunk even managed to wrestle Coran out of the kitchen, which means no food goo. It also means that he’s banned from even breathing near the kitchen until the food is fully cooked and completed — which is a bullshit ban and one based in false accusations — but he’s sure he can help set the table, or something. Stir a pot. He’s good at that.

He towels off his hair, not bothering to style it, and takes his time walking over to the kitchens. The castle floors are cold under his bare feet, he finds himself wishing he had the lion slippers Lance made him. They’re very warm. He never wears them because he’s terrified of ruining them, but it’s so icy in here that he might start having to, or else he’ll freeze.

As he approaches the kitchen, he hears voices. He freezes, quieting his steps and pausing behind the wall to listen. Hopefully no one else walks by, or that will be humiliating.

“— all you have to do is ask, Lance, just casually, it’s not even —”

“— it is even, Hunk, it’s the worst and I’m not doing it, why would I inconvenience —”

“— it isn’t! Not even a little! It’s the smallest tiniest thing!”

“Hunk —”

Hunk throws his hands up in exasperation, spoon going flying and splattering some kind of blue sauce all over the cabinets. Neither of them even blinks at it.

“I am tired of watching you struggle, Leandro! Heaven forbid you ask for help!”

Shiro frowns. That’s not good. That sounds serious.

“I asked for help,” Lance huffs, arms crossed over his chest. “I asked you, didn’t I?”

“I don’t count and you know it,” Hunk says sharply, mirroring him. “I already knew.”

Lance looks away, clenching his jaw. His fingers are tangled in his jacket’s sleeve, tense.

“You don’t have to help anymore if it’s too hard,” he mumbles. “I can handle it myself.”

Hunk softens. “It’s not that, Lance.” He wipes his hands in his apron and pulls Lance to his chest. Lance goes, although he doesn’t move his arms, burying his face in Hunk’s shoulder. “You know it’s not that. If that’s all we have then I’ll keep doing it, damn the consequences.” He pulls back slightly, nudging Lance back so he can look him in the face. “You can just do better, dude. All you gotta do is tell Shiro about your —”

A hand claps over Hunk’s mouth, cutting him off, and Lance squeaks, “Hey, Shiro, hello, hi!”

Shiro startles. He scrambles upright before Hunk turns all the way, so at least he’s only seen crouching by the door like a weirdo by one person.

He clears his throat. “Uh, hi.”

“You’re banned from the kitchen,” Hunk says, muffled. How he looks so mighty and dignified with Lance’s hands still very much pressed to his face is well and truly beyond him. Shiro is frankly awed.

“I just came to help set the table,” he assures, hands held up in surrender. “Promise I’ll stay away from the actual food.”

Hunk narrows his eyes, but must decide he could use the help, because he nods, stepping backwards so Lance’s hands fall back down.

“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m making stew. You can set out utensils if you must but know I’ll judge you heavily for it. Lance, come help me finish up.”

Lance scrambles after him, avoiding Shiro’s gaze like he’s sure he’s going to get yelled at. Shiro watches him go, perplexed.

———

The next few days are, for the most part, manageable. Their mission goes well, Keith is surprisingly mellow — Shiro suspects the little nerd has discovered a library of some kind — and distress calls are minimal. All in all, Shiro should be taking the time as the blessing it is and catching up on some much needed R&R.

Instead, he’s worrying about the Blue Paladin.

Shiro can’t say he knows him well. They’ve hardly been in space a couple of months, after all, and while Shiro must have taught him a couple times — he was in the piloting program so it’s almost impossible that they didn’t cross paths — the Garrison is huge, and Shiro largely teachers younger students. Shiro can’t recall teaching a Lance, anyway.

But he can tell something’s off.

Besides the fact that Hunk keeps looking at Lance with concern, the Cuban seems…withdrawn, almost. He still works hard in training and smokes them in any kind of long distance, but there doesn’t seem to be any joy in it. Even his arguments with Keith seem halfhearted, which Keith will never admit leave him agitated as much as it has Shiro’s eyebrows raising. Shiro is sure, basically, that something is the matter, and surer still that he has to be the one to fix it.

How exactly he should go about it…well, that’s the part he’s struggling with. He knows Lance is kind of star-eyed around him, even though they’re on the same playing field, so Shiro’s not sure just regular talking to him about it is going to do something. And he seemed pretty resistant when Hunk pressed, in the conversation Shiro overheard. He’s just not sure what to do.

Luckily, the situation starts to resolve itself.

“Hey, Shiro, can I talk to you?” Lance mumbles into his breakfast, as everyone else is distracted by Pidge and Keith’s loud argument about cryptids (Shiro has heard it too many times at this point. He’s tuned it out).

Shiro blinks. “Sure,” he says, trying to keep the shock out of his voice. “Now?”

“Uh, after we eat, maybe.”

Shiro tries very hard not to seem over enthusiastic. He sucks at that, so it doesn’t work, and it seems to make Lance more stressed, which only stresses Shiro out more. By the time everyone has finished up and people are starting to file out to various tasks, the tension between them is so thick Shiro feels as if he might suffocate.

Suddenly, as if he propelled himself, Lance springs to his feet, snatching his bowl and Shiro’s and powerwalking towards the kitchen sink. Shiro, startled, follows him.

“You okay?” Shiro asks softly, noticing the whiteness of Lance’s knuckles, clenched around a sponge, and the robotic way he scrubs it across a dirty spoon.

Lance says nothing. He keeps his eyes trained resolutely on the soapy water, spine ramrod straight, nerves bleeding from him in waves.

Hesitantly, Shiro rolls up his sleeves, standing beside him and beginning to dry what he rinses. As Shiro gets close he gets tenser, shoulders hiked up to his ears, but as the minutes drag on, empty kitchen echoing the sound of swishing water and clanking cutlery, he begins to calm down. Shiro watches his face relax, easing its worries twist, and terror fade from his brown eyes.

He hands Shiro the last clean dish to dry, then pulls the plug on the sink, darting over to grab a hand towel and starting to dry.

“Can you write mission plans in pink?”

The words rush out of him, like he’d been holding them between his teeth for God knows how long and they’d finally spilled out. He looks almost nauseous after he says them.

Shiro blinks. That was…not what he’d expected.

“…Why?”

“It’s perfectly okay if you can’t,” Lance continues, as if Shiro had not spoken. “I mean, whatever. I’ll figure it out. I’ve gone without this long, after all, and it’s totally doable. Of course there’s the migraines and the agony but that’s all light work. It’s war, after all. Ha.” He chuckles nervously.

He’s shrunk in on himself, looking almost small. Shiro stares at him with a dropped jaw and wide eyes. Lance doesn’t even notice, eyes focused intensely on the hand towel, breathing worryingly erratic.

“I just swore to Hunk that I’d ask, you know. He said it wouldn’t hurt. And of course it wouldn’t but I don’t need it. It’s just. You know.”

Shiro cannot stress enough how much he doesn’t know. He hasn’t felt this lost in a while.

“Pink makes the letters stick to the page. And I know that sounds stupid as shit and that’s because it is stupid as shit, unfortunately. Dyslexia is the dumbest thing in the world, actually. And who named it that? You know how hard that word is to spell? It’s hard. They should have called it — I dunno, I just mean, it’s whatever. It’s fine. I’ve handled it this long. Uh.” He looks up, finally, and maybe he doesn’t know how to make sense of Shiro’s expression, because he winces, shame overtaking his face. He sets down the towel and gestures vaguely behind him, stepping towards the door. “I’m just gonna — go. Sorry. See you later. Sorry.”

He all but flees out of the room. Shiro barely manages to snag the back of his hoodie, holding him in place.

“Lance. Chill a second. Give me time to respond.”

Lance looks deploringly at the door, then back at Shiro. He looks like he’s accepting his death. Shiro can’t help but feel the teensiest bit offended.

“I’m not going to bite you,” he says, aghast. “Jesus, kid. You’re going to give me a complex.”

To Shiro’s great relief, the remark makes Lance grin. Some of the tension eases from his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“From what I’ve heard, that’s a compliment,” Shiro says lightly. He pulls out two chairs, orienting them so they’re facing each other. He deliberately takes the one farthest from the door, so Lance doesn’t feel trapped. He gestures to the other one. “Sit.”

Lance does.

“Now. From the beginning and with a little less fear, hopefully. Tell me what’s up, kiddo.”

Lance looks down at his hands, where he’s picking at a scar on his wrist.

“Um. So. I have dyslexia. I can’t read too well.”

Lance cringes as he says it. Shiro wonders who he has to kill for putting the idea that this is something to be ashamed about in his head.

“Cool,” Shiro says, as encouragingly as he can manage. “The main character of my favourite book series as a kid had dyslexia. I was jealous of everyone who had it. I used to pray for it.”

The revelation startles a laugh out of Lance, like Shiro hoped it would. The tension melts right off of him.

“You prayed?”

“Every night,” Shiro affirms, grinning. “I even crossed my eyes and pretended when it didn’t work. My mother didn’t believe me for a second.”

“You’re a dweeb,” Lance says, sounding kind of awed. Like he’s shocked that Shiro, too, is a nerd loser on this castle full of other nerd losers. “Dyslexia sucks.”

Letting his face settle into something more serious, Shiro nods. “I imagine it does.” He reaches over and squeezes Lance’s hand, subtly stopping him from picking at the skin. Keith has the same bad habit. “Writing in pink helps?”

Lance shrugs. “Sorta. Dunno why. But things are less squiggly when they’re written in pink or red. Not perfect, but it’s something. I can hardly read at all when they’re in black; it’s like my eyes are spinning out of my head trying to focus on ‘em. Gives me migraines like you would not imagine.”

“And thus Hunk whispering the plans to you so you don’t have to read them,” Shiro surmises, the whispering during briefings suddenly making sense. Guilt twinges in his belly.

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way. Didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Of course not,” Shiro says gently. “I get it now. Sorry for not understanding.” He frowns, remembering something. “I should’ve asked beforehand. Or suspected something, or known better, really. I had a kid a few years back in one of my astronomy courses. Li-something. I marked all his stuff in red for the same reasons.”

Lance makes a very particular face. Warning bells go off in Shiro’s head.

“I appreciated that very much,” Lance says politely.

It takes a moment for it to click.

Shiro considers banging his head against the table.

“Please tell me no,” he begs, ears reddening.

“It was a great honour to be renamed by the Takashi Shirogane,” Lance insists.

“I had you in my class for three years!” Shiro says, aghast. “I — I called you Li all the time! In front of people!”

“I didn’t want to correct you! That’s — embarrassing!”

Shiro cradles his head in his hands. Dear God. He knows he’s not great with names, but — Jesus. To rename a kid. Blatantly. Other teachers must have thought he was some cruel jackass.

“I think there was a Li McKinney ahead of me in roll call,” Lance offers, patting Shiro’s back delicately. “So. Pretty easy to mess up.”

“Did you write your name as Li on tests? And assignments?”

“After the first couple times, yeah. Hunk laughed at me. At a certain point I’d just dug myself too deep, I think.”

Shiro sighs, dragging his hand down his face. It’s still quite hot. He looks up at Lance, who’s mouth is twitching.

“You were short as shit back then,” he observes, trying to picture the kid in his class. “Like, shorter than Pidge.”

Lance scowls. “I was — saving up on growth spurts. Yeah. So. Purge that from your memory.” He smirks. “Like my name.”

Shiro groans. “I’m never hearing the end of that, am I.”

Lance smiles. “Probably not. I didn’t know you were uncool. It’s interesting. I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, but reaches over to mess with Lance’s hair, like he would Keith. Unlike Keith, Lance freaks out way harder, screeching something about hard work and artistic expression.

He smiles. “Glad you came to talk to me, kid.”

Lance sticks out his tongue, but he looks pleased, too. “Yeah, yeah.”