#and one of the boys was a bit anxious and wanted a dog to make him feel safer at night it was too cute

[unamused-kookaburra]

The epic highs (cooing and laughing over the dogs with my mum) and lows (tearing up and getting emotional in front of my parents) of watching the doghouse with my mum and dad.

[g4rvez-r3id]

When You’re Lost in the Darkness, Look for the Light

Ex! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: Your ex, Spencer Reid, has just lost his girlfriend due to her being murdered. When all else fails with the BAU team helping him get through this loss, the only person left to help is you.

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: established past relationship, maeve arc, takes place after 8x12 “Zugzwang”, mentions of death and suicide, technically an AU for 8x13 “Magnum Opus”, spencer is obviously still mourning maeve, mentions of lauren storyline, mentions of breakups, reader was in a past relationship before spencer, kinda sad, hopeful ending(?) let me know if i missed anything! <3

Author’s Note: i feel like this was a bit rushed, especially towards the end butttt i might make a part two to this- just let me know if i should :)

It’d been a few weeks since what happened. Spencer witnessing his girlfriend being murdered right in front of him by her stalker. You knew that he was taking it hard, of course, who wouldn’t after seeing something like that?

The team had been frequently visiting him. Garcia had stopped by with her ninth gift basket on his doorstep, since he never answered. JJ had offered to bring the boys over to cheer him up but Spencer would never answer. Even Hotch, and Morgan tried to get him to get a breather outside of his apartment but of course, Spencer never answered. Blake and Rossi knew that he needed his space, knowing that a loss like this wasn’t easy.

Everyone on the team had tried, everyone except you. And honestly, why would you? Your breakup with Reid was enough reason not to go and see him.

You two had broken up when he’d found out you’d known about Emily taking her death. (You weren’t even supposed to know about it, you had just stumbled across Hotch and JJ having the conversation after you’d found out that your best friend was dead.) After she’d come back when they had a lead on Ian Doyle’s son, Spencer had later confronted you and told you he couldn’t forgive you for knowing for ten months and not telling him about it.

You expressed just how much it pained you not to tell him but that she couldn’t risk telling him. He had to understand that. Frankly, he didn’t.

And it seemed that he still hadn’t forgiven you since then.

It’d been over a year since you last had a full conversation with him since then, only opting for small talk or only talking when it was relevant to whatever case they were on.

And then you found out about Maeve. There were whispers around the office, Spencer was smiling more in the office, he was secretive and not to mention the case with the payphone that you and Blake took him to after needing answers regarding a case. You and Blake badgered him, wanting answers as to why he was being so secretive.

And then his words confirmed it for you — “Because I don’t want them to know about her, okay?”

And so, he had a girlfriend. And you were perfectly okay with that. Of course, it hurt that he’d moved on but someone had to, eventually, right?

Since then, you had avoided him any chance you had. If you two were alone in the kitchenette, you were the one who left first. If there was a spot on the jet open next to Spencer, you’d offer it to someone else quietly. You figured pushing him away — even professionally — was the best thing you could do for your own mental health.

But then Spencer’s girlfriend had gone missing. And you weren’t exactly forced to work a case but it sure felt like it when Hotch said that you guys would be working on your free time. You had half the mind to walk out of the bullpen right then and there. But then you looked at Spencer. Spencer, who looked like a kicked puppy dog with his sad eyes, messy hair and anxious stance and pleading, begging the team to help find her. And you knew that he’d always be your weakness, no matter what. And you’d like to think that maybe he’d do the same for you if the roles were reversed.

It’d taken a few to discover that Maeve’s stalker was Diane Turner, a research assistant at Mendel University where Maeve used to work. Diane applied and was rejected for a PhD after submitting a doctoral thesis about spontaneous cellular death in suicide patients, due to said thesis being biased as it contained references to her own parents, who’d committed suicide. She targeted Maeve, believing she was the one responsible for rejecting her PhD.

You remembered the minute you heard gunshots in the building, heart dropping at the possibility that it may have been Spencer who was shot at, since he offered to trade himself for Maeve. And thought it was better if the team were to wait outside of the building.

You remembered trying to talk him off the ledge but he simply ignored you and went into the building anyway without a vest.

You remembered Spencer trying to talk Diane down as she held a gun to Maeve’s head and growing anxious at the fact that Diane was getting more and more angry.

You remembered what Maeve spoke to him — her last words — “Thomas Merton, he’s the one you can never take away from us.” The proof of how much she loved him.

You remembered Diane pulling the trigger on herself and Maeve and Spencer’s painful pleading as both Diane and Maeve landed on the ground in a puddle of their own blood.

And you hated it but you remembered Spencer falling to his knees, sobbing over Maeve’s body. You could hardly believe it, even when it happened right in front of you. You’d fallen beside him, hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him the best way possible. And he grabbed your hand. Granted, he probably didn’t know or didn’t care enough to know who it was in that moment, but he took your hand anyways.

And since then, not a word from Spencer. And it was starting to worry the rest of the team.

But when you arrived in the office a few weeks after, staring at Spencer’s empty desk, JJ had spoken up and said — “Everyone else has tried but you. And I think you’re the person he needs right now.”

You’d responded, telling her that you’re probably the last person he wants to see right now in his time of mourning. But JJ had encouraged you. You’d known him in ways the team didn’t. Hell, you dated him. And you also knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

A few years before you dated Spencer, you had had a boyfriend. You were dating him for three years until he lost his life in a car accident. You were heartbroken from the lost and you didn’t go to work for over a month after. The only person that gotten you through that had been Spencer. He always had a way with words and you remembered him being there for you the entire time you dealt with it. A couple of years later, you and him finally began to date.

And now here you were, standing outside of his apartment, wondering how the hell you got yourself in this mess. You’d told Hotch that you needed to take care of something and that you wouldn’t be joining them on this upcoming case. It was true and it wasn’t like you to just call out of work unless it was an emergency. It technically wasn’t a lie, Spencer was your emergency. And you knew that Hotch would understand.

You’d hesitantly knocked, so quietly. “Spencer? It’s me,” You’d spoken up, your voice hoarse. “I, uh, I know I’m the last person you probably want to talk to right now… but… I’m here. If you need anything, I’m right here.” You assured.

To make your point, you moved two of the gift baskets away from the door so you can plop right down on the floor to sit against the door. “And I’m not going anywhere.” You rested the back of your head against the door. “And we don’t have to talk. We can wait however long you need to. I’ll be here.”

“But, please, give me something so I know that you’re alive in there.” You asked and quietly pleaded, “Please.”

You’d waited thirty seconds before you lost hope entirely and then three soft knocks came from the other side of the door and you smiled to yourself in relief that at least he was conscious.

And soon the minutes turned into hours, with you resting your head against that door and shifting a couple of times to get comfortable. Spencer still hadn’t budged since he’d knocked on the door. You’d taken the opportunity to help yourself to one of Garcia’s gift baskets since Reid hadn’t seemed to claim them. You’d opted for one of the fresher baskets since the others had probably been sitting for about a few weeks now. There was a basket with the mini chocolate chip muffins that you snacked on while sitting there.

And after hours and hours of still waiting there with no peep from Spencer, your eyes began to flutter closed at how sleepy you were getting. Sleeping outside of Spencer’s apartment wasn’t the best place for your back or your neck but you had slept in worse places.

You’d probably succumbed to sleep at least a few hours later until you had a rude awakening involving Spencer finally opening his door.

You hit your head right on the floor, which had woke you up. “Ow.” You muttered and looked up, seeing Spencer’s ghostly figure standing above you. You could’ve sworn you were dreaming. “Spencer?”

“You’re still here?” He asked, confusion in his voice. You finally stood up from the floor and nodded at him to answer as he began to walk away from the door and went back to the couch.

It was then that you got a look at his apartment. There were books on the floor everywhere. If you knew better, you’d say Spencer may have thrown them out of anger, pain. Old takeout boxes on the kitchen counter and living room table. It smelt like death — (but it actually might’ve been Spencer). You had to squint to look around since it’d been so dark. “Oh, Spencer…” You mumbled and turned to him on the couch. He was in a fetal position on the cushions, his hair falling in front of his face with an evident frown engraved on his face. He looked like a fragile child and it ached your heart to see him like that.

You found yourself kneeling in front of him and brushed the hair away from his face — like it was second nature to you. Like you’ve done it before. And you have.

You looked around, wondering what you should do, what you can do. And you finally find something small to start with. “When was the last time you slept in your own bed?” You asked and Spencer didn’t answer. You expected that.

You stood up from kneeling in front of Spencer and walked to his room, grabbing a few clothes — a plain t-shirt, a pair of underwear, plaid pajama pants and a pair of mismatched socks. You then went into the hall closet to pull out a towel and a washcloth for him and walked towards the bathroom to start running the water. He always liked it not too hot or not too cold but just warm enough.

You walked into the living room and found Spencer sitting up on the couch. “Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ve got it running the way you like it.” It took a few seconds but Spencer nodded at you and began to trudge to the bathroom. He’d left the door a crack and you wondered why he did. But then it occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to feel quite alone for a minute and you were right there if he needed anything. And he knew you had a guilty conscience, knowing that if he had closed the door and he’d done something to himself, you’d never forgive yourself. And you wouldn’t want him trapping himself in the bathroom either.

As Spencer went into the shower, you’d taken care of the rest of the apartment. You started with opening the blinds to bring some sort of light in and then with the kitchen counter, clearing out all of the old takeout boxes and washing dishes and wiping down the table and putting the books back on the shelves. All except for one. The Narrative of John Smith, it’d been the one book that he was clutching onto the entire time she’d been here until you told him to get into the shower. You knew he needed to put that one away on his own terms.

You fixed the couch up, laying the throw blanket neatly over the couch and then walked to his room, setting up his own bed. Wanting for him to be as comfortable as possible.

When he finally exited the bathroom, you didn’t hear him. You hadn’t heard his footsteps as he looked around the living room, seeing how you tidied up the place while he was in the shower. He almost thought you left, until he heard your humming from the other room. You were singing to yourself, a habit you picked up often doing casual things like laundry or spring cleaning. He missed the nonchalance of your presence and as he walked towards the door and found you making his bed, he missed it even more. Missed you even more.

You finally noticed that you weren’t alone, looking up to see him in the doorway and you smiled towards him. “Oh, hi.” You said and he walked into the room, looking down at his newly made bed. “Are you feeling better?”

He didn’t answer verbally, just shrugged.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, you look down at his perfectly made bed and say, “Why don’t you get some rest?”

Spencer nods at you weakly and gets under the covers. You almost want to tuck him in, like he’s a child, but you refrain from doing so. You look down at him and felt like you’ve done everything you could for him. Made sure he showered, tidied his apartment. Surely he’s sick of you being here now.

You ease the awkward tension, sucking in a breath and patting your knees. “Well… I’m just… gonna… see myself out. Get all of the rest you can, Spencer. No rush to come back, just take your time.” You assure finally and silently plead him to ask you to stay longer. Because you don’t exactly feel accomplished at the fact that you haven’t done anything except ask him to take a shower and clean his apartment. It didn’t really feel like a win. Instead, you felt more heartbroken for Spencer.

And somehow, by some miracle, you felt him grab your hand and you turned to face him and his gleaming eyes. “Can you…” The words trailed off from his lips as he stares into your eyes. “Can you stay?” You look at him, with wide eyes. It was like he read your mind. “Please?”

You look at him and try to maintain your composure as much as you can. Because this is the first time he’s asked you to stay the night since you two were together. “Yeah, of course, Spencer.”

He moves towards the other side of the bed to make room for you and you’re shocked by the gesture. You hadn’t shared a bed with him since you were together, either. You sit up against the headboard and he gravitates towards your thigh, resting his head on it and closes his eyes and your hand finds his hair, running a hand through it and trying to maintain his curls at the back of his neck.

Then, you remember. You look towards the drawer next to the bed on your side and wonder. You open the drawer and sure enough, there it was. The brown comb you left behind. You often used it to brush his hair, especially when it was shaggy down his shoulders and he’d often rest his head on your thigh like he was doing now and you’d run your hand through his locks until you’d finally bought a comb. It surprised you that he still kept it. You would’ve thought it ended up in his ‘Y/n box’ like how everything of his ended up in your ‘Spencer box’.

And like second nature, you began to brush his damp locks with the comb, trying your best to angle your arm to not interrupt his rest. You softly smiled at the scene, his eyes closed and nose scrunching every few minutes or so.

You’d suspected that maybe he’d fallen asleep to you combing his hair because his breathing evened and he was quiet with his eyes still remaining closed. But you still found yourself still combing through his hair despite getting the tangles all out.

“I miss her,” He admitted and for a moment, you stopped your movements, not only because his words shocked you but also because you thought he was asleep. “I miss Maeve.” He added and you notice as his lip quivers at his own mention of his dead girlfriend and you do everything in your power to keep your lip from doing the same.

“I know.” You say, your voice so soft and nurturing as you continued to comb through his hair.

Spencer doesn’t say anything else but you were glad he’d spoken out just what he was feeling in that moment. You lean against the headboard, wishing to say more but what Spencer really needed right now was someone in his corner, not someone who wanted to give their own opinion about the situation or relate to him — just someone to listen to him.

You continue brushing until you finally decide that his hair is silky smooth and place the comb on the table next to you and look down at his resting face and instead of the frown you’d seen earlier, you finally see some sort of look of peace. Of course, the sadness is still etched on him from a mile away. But you glad to grant him some form of peace in a time where he’s most desperate of it.

You begin to run your hand through his hair, massaging his scalp like you often used to do when you were together. And for a moment, it’s like you two are dating again and it’s like it’s casual, like you’ve done this before — which you have. But it’s been so long, you never thought you’d be in this position again.

Eventually, he falls asleep on your thigh and his soft breathing is more even than it was before and his mouth is slightly parted as he sleeps. And you don’t care about the crick you’re going to get in your neck from this headboard, you don’t care that your leg is dead and that your pant leg is slightly damp from his wet hair. What matters more than anything right now is him getting the rest he deserves.

And what mattered more than anything and your goal was that Spencer was going to fight through this gaping hole of darkness and find his light eventually. And somewhere deep down inside of you, though you’d never admit it out loud — you hoped that that light was you.

[evergone]

Theodore Nott General + Dating HCs

Theodore Nott x reader

Warnings: Smoking, alcohol, nudity, swearing.

Description: General and dating headcanons.

Smokes mostly when he’s anxious or angry (or any other negative emotion) rather than as a recreational activity.

Has tried to quit, but never sticks with it.

A big fighter — hates it when people talk shit about you or his friends and is almost always the one to start fights.

So protective of you it’s not even funny, and Blaise and Draco are always there to back him up when he fights for your honour or whatever.

Physical touch and quality time are his two biggest love languages because he didn’t get much of that when he was growing up. After that its gift giving, acts of service, and words of affirmation (he’s not a big talker).

Always has to be touching you in someway, be that linked pinkies or you sitting on his lap.

If you’re a legimens he always wants you to be reading his mind so you can see how pretty you are.

Argues with Hermione Granger’s annotations in the library books and forces you to take his side even when you think he’s wrong because “you’re [his] girlfriend and therefore you have to be on [his] side.”

Doesn’t personally wear glasses but loves to try on yours if you wear them — especially if you’re really blind.

Loves it when you read to him (he just loves the sound of your voice).

Prefers essays and non-fiction to fiction.

Is surprisingly good with kids. If you have siblings then they’re probably obsessed with him.

Not a big pet name user because he likes the sound of your name but when he’s drunk or feeling particularly soppy he’ll call you ‘lovey’ and occasionally ‘baby’ or ‘babe.’

Doesn’t mind being called pet names, but also prefers his name. He just adores being called ‘Teddy.’

He swears he doesn’t have a best friend, but everyone likes to assume they’re his best friend which can be a bit difficult when someone mentions this (“I’m literally his best friend, Blaise, what the fuck?” “He barely even likes you, Pansy!” “He doesn’t like either of you, I’m his best friend.” “Shut up, Draco, I’m his girlfriend and therefore his best friend.”)

In actuality, his best friend is probably Madam Pince.

So smart its not even funny. He’s coming in the top three ranks for every class he takes.

Also has no time for stupid people. If someone can’t keep up with his brain than he just won’t talk to them ever again.

Never wants to be a Death Eater and when Draco told him that he was, Theo didn’t talk to him for a week.

Has read almost every book in the library.

Sometimes reads muggle books as a sly form of rebellion against his father.

His favourite book is one you bought him for his birthday.

Doesn’t really like animals all that much but if you have one he’ll tolerate it (the kind of guy to say ‘no’ to getting a puppy and then gets it for you but ends up as the puppy’s biggest fan, like, buying a million different dog beds and including it in family photos).

Loves to take baths with you, especially if you let him wash you or you wash him.

You’d think his favourite place at school would be the library, but its actually his dorm. He loves it when you stay with him for the night — mostly because he likes to hold you, but partly because he likes when everyone gets to see you walking out of there in the morning.

Has a million photos of you up on the walls of his dorm and his bedroom at home.

His favourite pastime is taking you shopping.

Prefers to hang out at the shops with you, Pansy, Daphne and Millicent (and sometimes Astoria) than staying behind with the boys because he gets to pay for all your stuff.

Dresses better than anyone in the school and expects you to dress just as well.

Takes you to every event he’s invited to because he’s a little more popular than you.

Definitely doesn’t think or know he’s popular though. He thinks he’s such a little recluse that nobody really knows who he is, but everyone knows him and so many people think he’s incredibly cool. Draco and Blaise make a point not to let him know this so he doesn’t get a big head.

Doesn’t know how to cook so you try your best to teach him.

Loves everything you make for him.

His favourite type of music is vocal jazz.

The two of you didn’t have a secret relationship per se, but neither of you told anyone when you started going out and just let everyone figure it out using context clues (Daphne and Pansy were so offended that you didn’t tell them and will never forgive you for this).

If you weren’t already a part of his friend group, he wouldn’t put in any effort to introduce you to them because he’s not a sociable person himself, but Draco, Pansy, Blaise and Daphne would have all included you so quickly.

Hates taking you home with him because his father is such an arse, much prefers your home (especially if your half-blood or muggle born).

Is so intrigued by muggle things, would have loved muggle studies if his father let him take it as a class.

If your family are very aligned with your cultural heritage he does everything in his power to learn about it. He loves dressing in your traditional dress.

[sy-on-boy]

Damian's not nervous about who will win the right to dance with him. He doesn't care. Obviously.

Except Anya Forger is now lagging behind in the trivia quiz. She rattled off her first few answers with ease (genuinely surprising, how would she know about the milk and his dog? He can't imagine Ewen or Emile would tell her), but now she's struggling and giving out ridiculous answers. Who on earth is Benjerpoop Peeface GooFallo? Is Anya really that stupid? And why is he getting anxious about Anya not winning??

Someone has four points. One more point and this random girl will be dancing with Damian. Damian gulps nervously. Anya only has three points. The next question will determine his fate, and he doesn't trust Anya will know the answers to these highly specific questions—

Wait.

Highly specific question.

Damian can ask a question that only Anya knows the answer of.

Damian is so frazzled that he barely questions why Anya is the only one he wants to dance with. Or the integrity of him helping Anya win. All he wants is to the stop the imminent danger of someone snatching Anya's (rightful?) spot.

Damian raises his hand. "Ewen, can I ask a question to the ladies?"

Ewen looks a bit surprised by how the reluctant Damian is suddenly involving himself. "Sure thing, bossman! It's your dance partner after all. Come up!"

And now Damian's faced with the intense scrutiny of the five girls. Anya's stare seems particularly piercing, but she always has that effect on people. It's almost like she can read minds.

Anya suddenly jolts and looks away like she's nervous. Huh. Right, she's probably nervous because that other girl is one point away. Damian has to think of a highly specific question that the other girl will never know the answer to, and a question that only Anya can answer. It shouldn't be that hard considering they're in the same class and they did a lot of stuff together... Damian blushes at the thought of their extensive history.

But wait! Focus! This isn't time to blush. Except he's not blushing. Totally not.

Damian clears his throat. Everyone is looking at him. They're at question 13— an unlucky number, and coincidentally the number pinned on Anya's dress, so maybe it's a lucky number after all?

"Question 13: name one food in my ration can during the bus hijacking!"

There's a ripple of surprise when Damian mentions the bus hijacking. The other four girls look nervous. That's right, Damian knows Becky and Anya have suitors who admire their bravery during the hijacking, but no one seems to have mentioned that to Damian so far... and that scratches an uncomfortable scar in his heart. Hey, Damian was also involved in saving the class. Why didn't anyone admire his bravery, then?

See, this is a strategic question. None of the other girls seem to care about the hijacking, but Anya was right next to him on the bus. Her best friend's company provided the rations. Moreover, this is about food, and Damian knows how Anya invested is when it concerns food. She'll know the answer. He knows she knows.

In addition, Damian thinks he made the question quite open ended. She only has to name one food. Damian tries to recall them in his head: beef jerky, mints, digestives, hmm, what else...

"Salted nuts," Anya says.

A hush falls over the crowd. Everyone's looking at her, but she's looking at him. Damian's heart does an odd little thump.

"... I remember that because Sy-on boy gave the nuts to me."

Damian wasn't even thinking about that connection. Honestly, he had been so stressed that he could barely remember giving Anya her favourite nuts. Well, more power to Anya.

"That is correct," he says, and he can hear Becky cheer from the sidelines. Suddenly flustered and overwhelmed by how Anya remembers that little detail, Damian steps away and lets Ewen continue with the quiz.

Anya is up to four points, and she's tied with the other girl. That thought makes Damian nauseous. Anya only needs one more point, and they absolutely cannot let the other girl win—

Ewen begins what could be the last question. "Question 14: Which person does Damian love best?"

Damian instantly whips his head towards Ewen, his face beet red. "HUH?!" he screeches. He was already feeling fluttery and jittery from earlier, and now Ewen has to do this? Does his best friend want him to die, huh?!

At least it seems like everyone else is equally flustered. They yell out wrong answers, and Damian feels a rush of relief upon seeing the other girl with four points get it wrong. But wait, she isn't the only one with four points—

Anya presses her button. Her eyes are wide, as clear and as beautiful as glass, shooting a devastating arrow into Damian's resolve.

And before she says a word, Damian knows she knows. From her expression, he can tell she has the correct answer. Because of course she knows him the best out of these girls. Anya Forger, the commoner who stole him away.

He knows exactly what she'll say, and he's almost terrified by how she pinpointed that, but at the same time endlessly relieved that she knows such an important part of him. They're just kids who want their fathers to love them, aren't they? She understands him. She sees through him.

... Ah, why does it feel like Anya can see through all of him except for his heart?

Anya opens her mouth.

"Sy-on boy loves..."

"You," Damian thinks, his inner voice suddenly astronomically soft. "You win."

[oddballwriter]

Moon Boys with a Pregnant Reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and reader being pregnant 

Author’s Snip: Something wholesome to go with the previous headcanon about calling them your husband.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Steven Grant

Absolutely over the moon

I've said it before I will say it a million times more, Steven wants to be a father SO BAD and he wants as many as you two can manage. So when you're pregnant he shakes with joy

Steven makes it his job to make sure your pregnancy is the easiest it can be

He looks up remedies for any symptoms to help ease them and consults on mom forums to ask for advice on what he should be doing

Steven also researches the development of babies in the womb, like their size at each point in time/stage, what they're able to do, all that

To him, the best and most important part is when they start to kick and hear. Once the baby can hear he makes sure to talk to your bump so that they're used to their voice. It's as wholesome as you think it is, man is just yapping like he always does.

"When you're out here it's going to be great. We have everything ready and set for you."

Steven starts making a picture book so that the baby can look through it when they're older and also have memories. Marc and Jake make fun of him for it but they look through the photos that he's put in already like the first sonogram and the progression of your bump with side notes like "You're about the size of an apple in this one."

Steven gets a bit of a spending addiction once it's time to start buying stuff. He can't help it. He'll be there at the store and passes the baby aisle and he sees all the cute onesies, clothes, mobiles, and the tiny little shoes. My goodness, the tiny little shoes.

You have to tell him no and it breaks your heart a little to say no to him, but you already have like three baby mobiles and plenty of clothes.

Steven is honestly the dream father. All the women in the vicinity of you will see you and him out together and come up saying that it's so nice to see a man taking care of and being so involved in the pregnancy

When you're close to being due Steven can hardly sleep. What if you go into labor right now? Or in the middle of the night when he's out. Or what if you sit down too fast and that triggers it to start. Honestly, you need to tell him to calm down

Marc Spector

Marc makes it his job to take care of you and protect you

You know the deal. Marc's anxious about being a dad and that he's going to do it wrong or not protect them, so he starts being protective of you while pregnant to feed his need to be protective and prepared. It's nice and all but when you first started out he was a bit in your space

Eventually he tones it down but he is still being a bit of a guard dog

He closely checks all the food while you're at the grocery store to make sure nothing is in there that you and the baby aren't meant to have

Also, you will always get the lighter bags. Always. Marc will carry all the heavy ones and no, you can not convince him to let you carry one bag. You're carrying the baby, that's the only 'heavy' thing you should be carrying

He's also very picky and methodical. Steven said that pregnant people 'nest' but it seems like somehow Marc has taken most of that

He cleans everything until he deems it clean enough and places things in spots that "seem right". However, when it comes to the placement of things in the nursery he always asks you for your opinion because you, as the one carrying the baby, get the final say

When your baby starts to kick and your baby bump gets more prominent he gets all soft and mushy, emotional even. He was just preparing for something that he was expecting but now he knows that this is real. You're actually pregnant. You're going to have a baby with them and raise a child together.

It actually makes him cry, in a good way, because this is his chance to prove himself of being worthy of having joy and happiness to himself

For a good long while, Marc spends his free nights laying with his head next to your bump and just basking in the feeling. He talks to them too.

"It's just crazy to me because... you're there. You're actually real. You can hear me and you can kick and all that. And when you come out I can hold you and you can make noise and cry and squirm around. It's crazy. You're real, and I'm your dad and I'll get to see you grow up and teach you how to be a person."

When you're close to being due, he and the boys make a go bag so that you can be ready for when you go into labor but Marc sort of falls back into the intense need for preparation that he gets anxious over it and will check the go bag over and over and over again to make sure everything is in there

You need to tell him that it's alright and that the things in the bag aren't going to sneak off somehow

Jake Lockley

Jake makes sure you're happy

In his mind, there's no need to stress over the baby's growth because the doctors and check-ups take care of that. If something is wrong or needs to be done then they'll tell you and you can do what they said to do. But otherwise, he's more focused on you.

That's not to say he isn't doing anything. Of course not! He makes sure you're comfortable and healthy and that you aren't taking on any stress or workloads that might cause strain

Jake 100% is the one who builds everything, and he's good at it, and fast as hell. He built the whole baby crib in like five minutes and then started the next thing

I do feel like he takes on making the pregnancy more fun though

And by that I mean he makes stupid jokes to make you laugh

He quotes the how is prangent formed video all the time and says "pregananant" and "pregante" regularly

When you're in your final stage of pregnancy and are very pregnant he picks up everything that you drop because he knows you can't do it because the bump makes it impossible to bend down

He's seen you try before, and it's funny to him. You look like Chicha from Emperor's New Groove. That or you sit on the floor to be able to get it and then can't get back up.

He's very wholesome though. He's got the sonogram in his wallet as a keepsake to look at from time to time while he's at work

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[bitin-and-barkin]

Loving Someone

What would the healing process be like after your so-called death?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mostly just filler and going into the mind of Arthur, he's so goddamned anxious, paranoid too, tw: talks of suicide, execution, death, and other bad stuff, no smut, mostly just arthur having a mental break, probably out of character, he's starting to go yandere, tw: yandere-esque behaviour

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 3 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 2 here

__________________________

Arthur had lost people before.

When Eliza and Isaac had first died, he was only able to ever see their graves. Already buried, a cross put up. One moment they were there, and the next? 

They were gone. 

When he lost his Pa, he was young. Small and feeble. Sitting in the crowd, silently attending his own father's execution.

His Pa hanged him in front of him.

He wasn't sure how to react when it happened. Whenever someone was hanged there was always someone crying at the stands or nobody there who knew them well enough to weep for them.  

But when he looked at his dad, there wasn't much of a father there to mourn. Just bits and pieces of one.

When his Mama died, he wasn't there to see it. Only the aftermath. Her throat leaking red, and her eyes glossed over.  A certain shade of purple on her neck and face. The sun shone off her blood like something holy was done.  

He was much younger at that time, so he didn't really understand what happened. Death, that is. Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to him. It had always been a part of his life. 

In the wolves howling at night, mauling a buck, leaving its insides on its outsides and in the sunlight to rot. 

In the knobby, motionless, dogs on the side of the streets and in the quiet, grey toned graveyard in town.

So he could tell that something was wrong. He just didn't have a name for it.

He could see it though.

That there was some sort of new emptiness inside of her.

He had always carried that emptiness with him. An unspoken thing, it was the burden he bore.

People had come and gone. As time passed, it grew bigger and bigger. 

And so he filled it with money, and heists, and grand plans and demands from others. 

Alcohol and blood, his own and others among other things.

As he got older whenever he thought back to his mother he wondered if she really birthed a baby boy and not just a hole that would never fill. 

Always wanting more and more.

Always hungry, swallowing everything down. Every complaint and request, finishing them. Handing it to them on a silver platter. 

Never spitting anything out, but always coming back when others' plates are full. 

Nobody ever really said anything. It was convenient. Having a yes man, a loyal one, a Johnny on the spot. 

You had realized this behavior a long time ago. He's always choking on his food but saying he could handle more.

But when you walked in, for once he was full. 

For once he was loved.

And although he wasn't made for intimacy, nothing was able to take that away from him.

During the day he could feel your love underneath his fingernails and in the clothes that you sewed up for him and in the bird songs you'd always stop to listen to.

You were always a constant for him. He loved you like a fire loved its hearth. With enough love to make it home.

You gave him life.

And he knew he didn't deserve his.

He knew he wasn’t a good man. 

There was always a hope that some way the bad inside of him would be able to serve the good inside of you.

And that maybe one day he could make himself worthy of being in love with you. 

He always cared for you in the only way he knew how.

With bruised knuckles and busted lips, 

Slow dancing into the night with you and the blood in his mouth.

Acting and your sweet darling and as your perfect killer and as your rotten soldier. 

Doing it all if it all meant you would still smile at him in the mornings and nights.

Doing it all if it meant you would fill that void inside of him and stop it from swallowing him whole.

You had grown used to it.

He was protective, that was it.

He was the protector. Doing the sinned slaughter that would save the people.

And you couldn't say you didn't appreciate being prized by him.

Prized more than anything else in the world.

But this? This was something entirely new.

You didn't know much about loving others, your life hadn't afforded you it, and neither did Arthur.

But you knew this wasn't what love was supposed to be like.

Acting like a wild animal in a way. Backed into a corner by life itself.

1 week in and Arthur had practically snarled at Sean when he tried to drag him away from your bedside to a job.

2 weeks in and he had bashed a couple of Bill's teeth in for making a joke about you.

Commenting about how your love seemed to be one only made so you could lick each other's wounds.

He called it unsightly. The blood on his face afterwards wasn't too pretty either.

The way he was acting proved his point, though. Like everyone was your enemy and the entire world was too, too much.

He was finding his vices in you.

Only you.

Not in the normal way, the way a woman would look for her wife at the end of the day.

It wasn't in the sex or the looks or the meaningless chatter or even the comforting familiarity.

It was the edges of your fingertips, and in the rasp in your voice.

It seemed to be just you in its entirety.

Like a breath of fresh air.

The point is, a month had passed since you came back. You were healing. Arthur wasn't.

And now you had a problem.

You wanted to get back to jobs. Sure, it was a bit early. There was a odd ache in your arms here and there and when you bent over, you swear there would still be a phantom feeling of blood and Guarma Rum dripping down your back.

It was the O'Driscolls favorite after all.

But mostly, you were healed. Dutch had even cleared you for the smaller jobs. You knew, he knew, everybody in camp knew.

Except Arthur. Except him.

Approachable wasn't the way to describe him.

At least for anybody but you.

He had killed hundreds over the years in the name of Dutch's ideals.

But you were always so soft in his arms despite it all.

You trusted him.

But you're not sure if he trusted you.

With this, in specific. With your life.

You weren't sure how he'd react when you approached.

It was nearing 11 PM when you finally came.

Wolves howling at the moon miles away, people singing and swaying at the campfire after a long day.

Arthur was among them.

You told him you wanted to meet him there, that you needed to finish something up.

In reality you just needed a moment to think of a way to do something impossible.

To convince him that you were okay.

He was sitting there waiting for you.

You quietly walked over.

He was drinking at the campfire, his leg bouncing up and down. Trying to play it cool, but you could see through it. He was getting antsy.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Sitting next to him, he softly smiled the moment he saw you.

A quiet smile, one that only you could fish out of him.

Only you.

Placing his hand on and over yours.

Carving his fingers between yours.

He didn't say anything as he did. It was second nature.

"Arthur."

His eyes flicked towards yours, turning away from the campfire.

"Hm?"

You breathed out.

The smog from the campfire still dancing in the air.

"How are you?"

"I feel fine." He hummed. He seemed satisfied with you by his side.

You smiled.

"Good." He slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

You guys talked for a little bit. About your days, what you did.

It was nothing exciting, but it meant the world to him.

His head was filled with honey. You words lazily coating his brain, sinking him into the ground as everything else faded into background noise.

Just you and him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm going on jobs again."

Now? His thoughts ran silent.

His lips pursed, cutting off his breath. He looked around camp.

It was such a quick difference, like lightning and thunder. A crackle through the air. Nervous electricity still coursing around.

Scanning the area with his eyes for he didn't know what. A reason, maybe.

Everybody was still laughing at little nothings, but it felt like they were jeering at him.

He turned his eyes back to you. He was nervous, that was to be expected. Just tell him you would be fine, and he would be fine too.

Except it wasn't that simple.

"Why?"

You raised your eyebrows at this. He kept talking, never meeting your gaze.

"You don't need to go out, especially not so early after you got back,"

He nervously chuckled.

"I mean, is Dutch really nagging you that much?"

You weren't sure how to tell him you brought it up to Dutch.

Stuttering over his words, he kept talking.

"Do we really need money that much?"

"I heard of this stagecoach up near Flatneck Station, from what I've seen it's always something expensive they're carrying. Could make an easy pretty penny for us, real easy."

"Just yesterday you were tellin' me that your back hurts, and we're still changin' out your bandages every single day."

"You really oughta just stay here. Really."

His head was turned away. He has stopped talking after he kept stumbling over his words. His voice changing into meaningless hums.

Thoughts running through his head like an electrical current. Or maybe more like a bullet in the barrel of a frictionless gun.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

At any other time he would've muttered something sweet but clever or placed his hand back on yours and pulled you forward into his arms.

But now his head shot back like it was an order.

Looking at you, his face was indescribable.

Wild eyed. Ashamed of something.

Afraid even.

You were scared. You were both scared.

Was something more or less scary if you were next to someone who was equally as afraid walking into it?

You couldn't imagine all the bad things that could happen. Having to walk into a town of Raiders and Outlaws.

You weren't fragile.

You were scared, but..

It was like an open wound for you at this point. Painful and gaping, but slowly healing.

You still suffered for it every day, an ache at the back of your head. But you were healing, making good, no great process.

You were talking and walking and had come so far from before.

He had pushed you to stay home while healing, tearing others a new one for trying to even just put you on guard. Looked like he was gonna have a heart attack when you were "straining your back" by just carrying hay.

Looking into his eyes now, there was something new in them. Confusion. Abandonment. Hurt.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

You were moving past it.

You knew he loved you but,

Why did it still seem like the entire world to him?

You brushed your hands against his stock-still face as he stared far past your gaze.

Was he okay?

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything.

There was a certain ringing in his ears as you spoke. More like a flatline than anything.

He was silent. Didn't respond.

But what was he supposed to tell you?

He knew he was overreacting, that he was being dramatic and controlling but he couldn't shake the feeling that...

How was he supposed to tell a knife there was nothing funny about spilling blood?

He didn't see any blood but he could feel himself bleeding.

His grip on his pants tightened. He tried to drag the conversation away, simply saying you guys could talk about it in the morning. That you were both tired. That you could discuss it with a clear head later.

You seemed hesitant at best. You said there was nothing to talk about later. Almost seeming confused.

For 6 months he couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. And so many times he woke up he prayed this day would be the last. So many times he stared at the gun, the knife, the rope. Sitting by your tent waiting for you to show up like old times.

You were going to be fine. You were going to be fine on your own. Weren't you?

Were you?

It was irrational, really. Overdramatic, stupid, a million other labels. Primal, even.

He could not make you understand. He couldn't make anybody else understand what he was feeling whenever he saw you. He couldn't even understand it himself.

What was he supposed to say? That he never could've done anything he did without you? That he'd never forsake you? That he needed you to support him? That you were the only person in his entire life that loved him? That you were his only friend? That he only loved you? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that mattered? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that made sense? That he didn't love himself?

How was he supposed to say he never understood intimacy or lust until he met you? That he had never felt want like how he wanted your skin against his?

Like how he had never felt fear like he did now, now that you were pulling away from him?

What was he supposed to say to you?

It was stupid, only a fool, a real fool would feel like this.

But all his insecurities were swallowing him whole and it felt like you were proving every wrong thing about him right.

You were the dull blade that he twisted inside himself. Keeping a wound from closing but keeping it clogged at the same time.

The only thing stopping his guts from spilling onto the ground.

But his guts were already contained in that cabin where he found your finger, when you first went to that stupid parley, when he cried in Hosea's arms after you left him.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid. It was fear then anger then bared teeth at anybody who approached.

Like a body hitting the ground, like a rat running a maze.

It all had to end eventually. You were gonna leave him eventually.

All alone again, with a dying father and a killing leader and a lucky brother who he hated yet loved.

Alone again.

He knew time had to pass. That his time was long gone, that yours was going down with his soon.

Hand in hand.

So soon.

But why did it have to be so soon?

And why did it have to be you?

He sharply swallowed. He was looking at the floor now. He doesn't remember himself turning his head down.

Dipping down, almost as if to cry.

Your hand was still on his shoulder. You quietly repeated your question.

He silently nodded.

Patting him on the shoulder, you stood and walked away. Telling him to get some sleep.

As you stepped and staggered, he could see a limp in your walk.

He desperately wanted to get up. To tell you something, anything that'd get you to change your mind.

But he was frozen in place. People were still talking and laughing like the world hadn't just collapsed in on him.

Classical music wafted out of Dutch's tent. He turned his gaze to it. It was still lit up, the flaps still open.

He silently stood up and began walking towards it, almost as if in a trance.

You weren't going on any jobs.

You weren't well enough.

He knew that. And he was going to make sure Dutch knew of that too.

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So the results on my last poll were pretty split down the middle, so I'm doing both of them. He'll run away with you soon, dw. Prolly kill Colm while he's at it. Sorry for taking so long, I was buzy🙏 rise and grind brothers

@photo1030

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: the announcement

authors: inspired by several asks and convos with ya'll about these dream children of roman and solana. 😭

warnings: none

words: 2.3k

*photos found on twitter*

tags: @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @lov3rla03 @annfg8 @jayjayem1999

@that-one-anxious-mango @fearlesschimera @wwecrazed2010

“Our house used to be quiet, ya know.”

Solana rolls her eyes as she sets the timer on the oven for the homemade chocolate chip cookies she’s had a craving for all morning. Just one of the three trays she’ll have baked when all is said and done.

Her family has a big appetite. Especially the boys.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she pokes a little fun, “that was before the children, my love.”

“And the dogs,” he scoffs, mind briefly wandering to Dulce. Two years later, he still finds himself waiting for her to walk her lazy self into his office and plop down in her bed for a nap or to roll onto her back for a stomach rub. Her passing is still something that gets to him from time to time.

Solana's giggles pull him from his brief recollection as she removes said apron and walks over to him. Hands on her chest, she looks up, asking, “you ready?”

Roman sighs. Not necessarily. He knows this is about to be a shitshow, but it's also something they can’t put off any longer. “Let’s get this shit over with.” He takes her hand in his, walking them towards the living room, stopping near the staircase. “Kids! Family meeting!” As expected, a chorus of protests sound from up the stairs. Another heavy sigh, followed by a much firmer, “now!” 

An almost immediate wind of silence as husband and wife journey into the living room, standing near the 80inch flat screen TV. Roman isn’t surprised to find that Aroha is the first to arrive, skipping into the living room wearing that ballerina costume she seems borderline obsessed with. Tutu and all. Also, not surprising, is the fact that Coco has tagged along with her, settling into the bed in the living room. 

“Look, mommy! I’m a princess!” Aroha spins around, making Roman crack a smile. While her infatuation with wanting to wear costumes all the time can be a challenge, especially when it’s time for school and she has to wear her uniform, her softness reminds him a lot of Leya and Solana. She’s taken after their personalities.

“You’re a beautiful princess, mija.” Solana compliments, accepting the hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. They share a short conversation in Spanish before she’s over by him, reaching to be picked up. He easily obliges, smile widening when she kisses his cheek and lays her head on his shoulder.

Lina and Leya are next to arrive. Lina is clearly gym bound, given her matching workout set that Roman is about to comment on when she asks, “daddy, can I use the big gym tonight? I need to lift.”

The big gym would be the separate mother-in-law suite that Roman had turned into a gym when Lina and Tama started expressing increasing interest in fitness and working out. So much so that Roman found his initial gym that was built in the main building no longer serving its purpose.

Thus, the renovation. And again, having seen what Lina wears to train from time to time, he’d rather her only see their property and nothing beyond it. 

“Sure.” It’s an easy, agreeable thing.

Lina fist pumps the air. Roman then notices that Leya has come with her sketchbook tucked under her arm. He watches how she sits on the sofa, legs crossed before she pulls it out to continue whatever her latest creation is.

So much like Solana. 

Tamasā, Tama, is the next to come down the steps, a huge jump allowing him to bypass the last three. He directs his attention to Roman, “dad, can Lina and I use—”

“Already asked him,” she cuts him off, texting away on her phone that her eyes are glued to. Roman scoffs a bit. She better not be talking to that grown man looking lil boy. “You’re late. As always.”

Tama sucks his teeth, muttering, “man, whatever.” He walks over to Solana, giving her a hug that he has to lean over for. At freshly turned 15, he’s almost the same height as his dad. “Hey, mama.”

“Hi, baby.” She kisses his cheek as their oldest son falls down on the other sofa, also pulling out his phone.

“Boys!” Solana calls, giving Roman that ‘of course, they’re the last to come’ look. It’s not surprising. Roman is certain them boys have ADHD or something. They’re always on the move. “Come on!”

“Mom!” Koa calls down with an almost whine. “I’m about to beat the wizard!”

Roman walks over, still holding his baby girl and easily calls up the steps, “Imma beat you, that wizard, and your brother if ya’ll don’t get down here now.”

The Tribal Chief already knows his second set of twins are gaming together, from their separate rooms, using that online play feature shit. There’s grumbled protests and stomping as the 10 year olds finally make their appearance, pouting and scowling. 

“Fix your faces,” Roman warns as they begrudgingly walk into the living room and opt to sit on the floor. He’s about to say something when they pull out those handheld gaming systems, but Solana beats him to it.

She speaks in Spanish, the boys responding back in Spanish before putting the devices on the floor next to them. 

With everyone settled, Roman carries Aroha over to the sofa so she can sit next to Leya. Leya offers a warm smile to her little sister, sharing the art with her. Even with the age difference, they’re close. Roman gets it. The two of them are so much like Solana, having taken so much after her. In all of the good ways.

“Wait.” Tama suddenly sits up, excitement painting his face. “Is this about my car?” He smiles, and Roman almost feels like he’s looking at himself many years ago. Like the girls have taken after Solana, Tama has definitely taken after him in looks. The spitting image of himself when he was a teenager. “Am I getting—”

“I’m not getting you an Aston Martin,” Roman shuts that down real fast, unsurprised when his son scowls. Again, his twin.

“But Lina and Leya—”

“Didn’t crash a car before they even got their damn license,” he shoots back, easily. Tama can be….distracted at times, hence him crashing Roman’s Bugatti when learning how to drive. One of Roman’s favorite cars. 

Aroha then decides to ask in the sweetest voice. “Daddy, can I get a pony?”

“No, baby, you cannot get a pony.” Animals. His youngest is also on this animal fixation as of recent. She almost threw a fit just the other day when he refused to stop for the ‘little baby’ she saw on the side of the road when he was bringing her to gymnastics practice.

Possum. 

The little baby was a fucking possum.

Of course, his younger sons seem to see an opportunity to get their request in since Aroha’s was denied. With perfect synchronization, they start off with their application.  “Can we get a—”

But, Roman is already three steps ahead. “I’m not getting ya’ll no damn lizards.”

Koa and Kai have wanted reptiles for a while. And they’re gonna keep wanting them, at least until they’re grown and out of the house. Dogs, Roman can get with. Anything else is a hell no. Especially some damn lizards. 

Kai, the more crafty of the two, is the one to object. “But, dad, they’re bearded dragons!”

“Dragons?!” Aroha’s gaze shifts into horror as she buries herself into Leya’s side. “I don’t like dragons.”

“Baby, dragons aren’t real,” Solana comforts, offering a warm smile. 

“Would ya’ll stop scaring your sister?” Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. This is going exactly as he expected, except they haven’t even dropped the news onto them yet. “Now look, this meeting isn’t about any of ya’ll getting anything. You get things all the time anyway. That’s why the house looks the way it does.”

Roman has a low tolerance for most things. Granted, there’s always an exception for his kids, even on days like this where they are clearly on one. So while he has denied the requests thus far, it’s more often than not he has packages arriving daily. Either things the kids have suckered out of him, things Lina and Leya have ordered, Solana even. Not to mention Koa and Kai who somehow have a damn Amazon account of their own.

He’s still trying to figure that out, though something tells him Tama had something to do with it. 

But as a result of the constant arrivals and items being purchased, the house being filled with stuff, it’s always clean. Solana likes keeping a tidy home, and the kids are good with their chores. Usually. But still, Kai and Koa practically have a gaming and tech set-up in their rooms that could make even the Geek Squad jealous.

Tama has every pair of Jordan’s to ever exist. Lina too. Each having their own rooms just for their shoes.

Leya’s room is a damn art gallery with her often painting and designing her walls every couple weeks. 

And Aroha’s bedroom is more or less a playroom. The girl has dolls everywhere. 

The kids are all spoiled rotten, but they’re still respectful. And that’s all Roman cares about.

“Your dad and I—Well, we have something to share with you all.”

At that, the younger kids have returned back to their previous headspace of receiving. “Are we going to Disney?!”

Yes, they are going to Disney. Roman willing to sacrifice his mental wellbeing for a few days to make the kids happy. It’s been a couple years since they last went, and they’ve been wanting to go, so Solana and him have been working on that behind the scenes. But, it’s a surprise, so he’s not about to confirm as such. 

“No. We’re not going to Disney.”

Lina chuckles, still texting on her phone as she jokes. “What then? Are you guys pregnant again or something?” At that, she looks up, sharing a small laugh with Leya and Tama. However, that laughter is quickly cut short when neither Solana nor Roman offer any sort of disagreement. 

Or deny it.

Lina’s jaw drops. “Wait…..” She looks over at her mom. “Mami? Is it true?” She speaks in Spanish, Roman not needing to speak the language to understand what’s being asked. She snaps her head to Leya who’s looking over at Roman. 

“Dad?”

A deep breath followed by a shared look with Solana who gives him the non-verbal go ahead. Time to rip the bandaid off.

Roman doesn’t hesitate or stutter as he announces, “your mom and I are having another baby.”

And thus it begins. In less than seconds after it leaves his mouth, the group erupts with various expressions of shock and borderline panic.

“How does this keep happening?”

“Why does this keep happening?”

“Where is it gonna sleep?”

“Can I go live with Aunt Naomi and Uncle Jimmy?”

“Is that all you and mama do?”

“Alexa, how do I get adopted?”

Roman lets them get it all out before his loud voice silences the room. “Alright, that’s enough.” Temporary silence. That’s all.

Koa crosses his arms over his body, scowling. “Where do these babies keep coming from?”

“The baby fairy!” Aroha answers with the happiest expression, like she’s just shared this great big secret with everyone that will make everything all better and solve world hunger. “The baby fairy puts lots and lots of babies in mommy’s tummy, and then they come out her vagina.”

That last portion makes all of the boys turn up their nose in disgust. Kai being the one to shout, “that’s nasty!”

“You’re nasty!” 

“Naw, mom and dad are the nasty ones to keep making all these kids.” Tama sucks his teeth, adding on almost desperately. “Aren’t ya’ll kind of old to keep doing this?”

Aroha jumps off the sofa, pouting and defending. “Daddy’s old, but he’s not that old! He’s baby santa old.”

Roman looks over at his wife with all of the confusion only to her covering her mouth and looking away, clearly trying to hide her smile.

“I’m not old,” he defends. 

Lina rolls her eyes. “Dad, come on. You get more gray in your beard every day.”

“Yeah, well, if ya’ll kids would stop stressing me out—”

“So then why’d you make more?” Tama mutters it to himself, but it’s still loud enough for his father to overhear. One sharp look from Roman making him cough awkwardly as he focuses on his latest kicks.

Solana clears her throat, redirecting all the attention onto herself. “I know—I know this is a lot to take in, and it’ll be an adjustment for everyone, but it’ll be fine.”

“I really think we should talk again about me, Leya, and Tama getting our own pl—”

“That’s not happening.” Roman shuts that shit down so fast, once again reiterating his main point every time this is brought up. “I’m not getting ya’ll a penthouse. This is your house. You’ll stay here.”

“With all these kids?” Lina pouts and gestures to the younger kids who are somehow now arguing over the existence of dragons and princesses. “This is torture in some countries.”

Leya smiles, asking gently, “how far along are you, mama?” 

Solana’s smile is soft as she answers, hand resting on her stomach. “6 weeks.”

Tama gives a smile as well, rubbing his hands together. “Bet it’s another boy.”

At that, the twins roll their eyes, Leya poking fun, “no way. Another girl.”

“Wanna bet?”

As the teens start placing wagers on the sex of the baby and the younger kids continue their passionate debate, Solana hugs her husband, eyes closing when he kisses the top of her head. His hand on her belly, content and pleased.

However, the timer on the oven going off seems to be the thing that breaks all conversation, Tama asking, "mama, you baking?"

Solana smiles, leaning into Roman's chest. "Chocolate chip--"

She can barely finish her statement as all of the kids, Coco too, are suddenly rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen, now arguing about who gets dibs on the first set.

"Oldest first!"

"No way! Guys first!"

"You guys always get first!"

"Cause you two always eat them all!"

"Mommy! Daddy!"

Solana giggles into Roman who's only sighing again, index and middle finger pressed against his temple.

"Maybe we should hear them out on the penthouse idea."

"Roman!"

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 12: LOOKING FOR THE NEW WORLD

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, dubcon, oral sex, mentions of depression, angst, character death

ੈ✩ wc: 5k

ੈ✩ a/n: who else is sick of these two. i sure am

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

January, 2011

There’s a black cat that likes to hang out around your apartment. It’s small, a bit on the thinner side, with striking amber eyes. It reminds you of someone. 

It nuzzles against your legs now as you sit on the stoop, nursing your third cigarette of the night. Tobacco for dinner and some leftover hot and sour soup from the last time Shoko forced you to get takeout with her.

“You gotta stop with those,” she had muttered when you had finished eating, excusing yourself for a cigarette despite the snow. “You’re gonna fuck up your lungs at this rate.”

“How extremely hypocritical of you.”

“The nicotine makes you more anxious than before,” she laughed. “And I want you alive in this lifetime.”

You’d smiled weakly in response. Allowed yourself one cigarette before bed and another that was shared with her before she left for Tokyo again.

Your stomach rumbles again at the thought of real dinner. The cat sniffing you meows. 

“You’re hungry, too, huh?”

As if it understands you, it mewls. 

You ash your cigarette and scoop it up in your arms as you walk to the konbini for cat food and multiple cups of ramen. Despite the odd looks you get around the store, no one bothers you or reprimands you for having a little fur ball attached to your shoulder. 

The cat takes a liking to your apartment, immediately splaying itself on your carpet. You’d have to vacuum later if you were going to house it. Get a litter box, too. It was probably all against your lease, but it had been a long time since you had taken care of anyone other than yourself, and you were still lacking in that department ever since the previous autumn.

“Sorry about this,” you mutter as you pick up the cat, lifting it to the light. “Ah. A boy.”

The cat meows, as if agreeing. You decide to call him Jiji after the black cat in Kiki’s Delivery Service. A fitting resemblance. There’s an annoying, familiar voice in your head that tells you it’s a bit cliche.

The poor thing walks with a limp you don’t remember him having. There’s a deep cut on one of his back legs, probably left over from a stray dog that bit too hard. The flesh heals quickly with the slight of your hand.

He treats the place like a personal jungle, which is saying something considering how bare it is. You make yourself some subpar ramen, attempting to turn it into stir-fry with the puny vegetables in your fridge. It was something warm, at least. It goes nicely with the Asahi you bought. You’re allowing yourself maybe half of the six-pack tonight. Any more and you’d be inviting yourself to wade in a pool of pity.

You stare at the mini calendar on your fridge. The third of February is circled, taunting you. It wasn’t like you’d ever forget, but you marked it anyway as if to punish yourself. 

You jump when the doorbell rings. It can’t be Shoko. She’d left for Tokyo days before, and there was no reason for her to be back so soon. Utahime wasn’t the type to show up unannounced. 

For fuck’s sake, it couldn’t be. 

You didn’t even tell him where your new place was. The knocks on the door turn to a rhythmic pounding you recognize immediately and it makes you want to start digging your own hole. Begrudgingly, you open the door.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, the curl of a lip hinting at a teasing smile. There’s barely enough time for you to process a response back because of how quickly he walks in. 

“How did you know where I lived?”

Satoru grins, teeth and all. Annoyingly bright and shark-spiked, hair covered in light snow. 

“I have my ways, baby.”

“You need to leave.”

Jiji cowers curiously by the foot of the couch, blinking at the new stranger. Satoru looks at you quizzically.

“Replaced me already?”

“Yes.” 

He ignores you and plops down the paper bags he was carrying on the kitchen counter, like he’s done it a million times before. A bottle of rose, packaged daifuku. A carton of strawberries. For some reason, nearly everything in the grocery bag is pink.

“Got you your favorites.”

“Satoru, these are your favorites.”

“Ours, then,” he huffs childishly, pouting. “I was in town for a mission. Thought you would want to, uh, do something for his birthday.”

His last sentence is rushed like it’s an afterthought, but it’s the most damning one. You can’t help the rage in your veins when he says it. As if Suguru is dead or missing instead of flourishing on his own path. Rot turned to bloom.

While you glare at him, his expression is neutral, bordering on sheepish.

“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts, so.”

“Because I didn’t want to talk to you,” you say bluntly.

He sighs. “You can’t ignore me, forever, y’know.”

Something bitter crawls up the cavern of your chest at the same time something heats up. It wasn’t fair, the way he looked at you all pouty. It made you feel like you did when you were merely the maid’s daughter, wanting to appease him in any way you could. You feel slightly nauseous despite your stomach feeling terribly empty. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Have you talked to him?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs.

The two of you stare at each other in silence for a bit before you clear your throat. 

“Thanks for the groceries, but you can take them back to your hotel or whatever. You can’t stay here.”

“I’m not trying to crash at your apartment, anyway.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Satoru?”

“Seduce you, I suppose,” he mutters. “I’m sure the hotel mattress I have would be better for your back. You can—”

“No.”

“Fine. Have dessert with me. A glass of wine. I just want to be with you.”

You curse yourself. Satoru is always tempting just by being himself, but you did really like the brand of wine he brought. Right now, you need a drink more than anything else. 

Watching reality TV with Satoru is not how you expect to spend your night. The silence is uncomfortable, nearly suffocating. It’s not difficult to notice how much he wants to touch you, his fingers twitching on the fabric of your couch. 

“Where’d this fucker come from?” He nods his head towards Jiji, who has jumped onto your left shoulder. You can sense jealousy in his tone, funnily enough.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold, rolling your eyes. “He was a stray. Got bitten by something so I healed him up.”

“How lucky.”

“Uh huh.”

Satoru clears his throat and thumbs around the rim of his wine glass. Fidgety. He leans closer to you, petting Jiji as an excuse. 

“How’s the… independent study? Or whatever.”

“It’s good. I work at the greenhouse every other day.”

He nods slowly and pours you both another glass. It doesn’t take long for you both to finish the bottle. His cheeks are as pink as the daifuku, half-eaten and abandoned on a plate in front of him. You’ve graduated to playful quips despite your mostly guarded demeanor, feet hoisted on his lap as he rubs them absentmindedly. 

“You should probably get back to your hotel.”

“Huh?”

You look at him. Satoru’s gaze flickers in between mischief and reverence. He’s also clearly not paying attention to what you’re saying considering his eyes are fixed on your bare shoulder. 

“It’s late,” you sigh.

“Not that late,” he scoffs. “S’not even ten.”

“I have a lab early tomorrow,” you lie.

“...Alright. Wanna finish this for me, then?” He holds out the last half of the mochi and feeds it to you. He blushes slightly. You still open your mouth for him without having him to ask. 

“It’s good.”

He nods. Leans over to wipe a bit of red bean paste off the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His eyes lower onto your lips as he sighs, right before he kisses you.

You let him. 

He feels the same as he always does. It’s been almost two months since you’d touched him — the last time being inside a karaoke bar bathroom an hour after Shoko had convinced you to come out for Satoru’s birthday. 

You had done so, unwillingingly, still not over the wound of being left and still angry with Satoru. Even so, it was still easy for him to make your knees weak, leading you into a random stall in the men’s bathroom while Shoko and Utahime forced Nanami to sing an 80s ballad. 

It was your first time properly spending time with the underclassman, so it embarrassed you immensely to walk out with your lipstick smudged. You remember overhearing Nanami ask Utahime about you and Satoru, to which she simply laughed in pity.

They’re on and off?

Divorced right now, Shoko had quipped.

Gojo was married to her?!

Fuck no. He wishes.

“Sato—” you mumble into his mouth.

He shuts you up with his tongue against yours, his hand cupping your chin. You knew he would get you a little tipsy and probably make a move, and you knew full well that you would let him. He chased you easily even when he could have anyone he wanted. 

His movements are sloppy and languid. Drunk, perhaps — he was a lightweight through and through. He groans lightly at the taste of you, how sweet you are like always. His other hand moves to your nape, clutching the back of your head to rest on the couch cushion with him hovering over you. Already, he was slotting his knee in between your legs. 

Satoru could already feel his insides stir at the thought of being inside you again. It had been too fucking long. He was sure that his dick would probably melt once you let him in. 

When you feel his hand underneath your sweater, you break the kiss. He sees it as an interruption rather than an end as he chases you, face leaning in again. He was pretty when he was drunk on you, eyes half-lidded like that. It was infuriating. 

It takes you a slight push and a turning of the head for him to realize that you don’t want him. 

“Why are you—”

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I– I don’t want to.”

His face falls. You can’t stand it, how he looks like a kicked puppy. You refuse to fall for it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with me?” he tries. “To the hotel?”

You’d slap him if you could. Your hands don’t move an inch. They only tremble.

“I said no. I’m sorry—” Why are you apologizing? “I have to get to bed.”

He blinks at you, dejected. For once, he doesn’t beg. Doesn’t give you a smartass reply. He stands and runs his fingers through his hair. 

“Okay,” he sighs. He wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t. “Sweet dreams, Twigs.”

June, 2010

There’s a funeral before you leave for Kyoto. It’s the first time you deal with the corpse of a classmate.

You’d watched Shoko work in the morgue meticulously, wrapping the body in plastic. You knew she was probably used to the smell of death by now. At that moment, you were both numb to it.

“You don’t have to stay here, Nanami-kun,” you told your junior softly. He’d been sitting next to you in a plastic folding chair with a warm towel over his eyes for nearly half an hour, saying nothing.

“It’s fine. Not like they’d dare to assign me another mission right away.”

You glance at Nanami now, dressed in all black, and his face looks even more tired than it was under the morgue fluorescents. Sallow and pale, his complexion matching Suguru’s. 

You were all much too young to go to so many funerals.

The smell of death still lingers at the ceremony, too. It must be psychosomatic, the way the suffocating temple air makes your gut twist into itself. Yu Haibara’s smiling portrait stares back at you. 

You’d never experienced anything like this before. You knew the cost of being a jujutsu sorcerer, the horror of nearly losing Satoru the subject of your nightmares. It was different for it to be real, to pick up the bones of a boy whose light shone so brightly with chopsticks. 

Suguru looks older than he is. You noticed lately that the circles under his eyes have gotten worse, sometimes like a bruised purple in the shadows of his room. He didn’t leave it often, never opened his blinds despite it being summer. Morose as he is, he still looks beautiful.

You sit in between him and Satoru during the service. You shed no tears. No one does—the grief is all-consuming, wrangling everyone by the throat. You’re sure your fellow classmates are feeling numbness more than anything. 

You crawl into Suguru’s bed that night. He almost doesn’t acknowledge you, save for the movement of his arm over your middle when you nestle into his chest. His hair is still slightly damp from the shower he took. He hadn’t bothered to put his clothes back on.

“You okay?” you whisper. “We missed you at dinner.”

“Migraines,” he mumbles. He’s been getting a lot of them lately. That or nausea. Another thing that was psychosomatic—Suguru could barely eat lately because of the nausea. Even when he eats enough, it’s there, as if the curses he swallows are making a cesspool of his gut. 

He blames it all on heat fatigue, but you know better. Even with his model-like cheekbones, his face is starting to look a little thinner. 

“Did you take anything for it?”

“Yeah,” he lies. He might’ve taken some gas station gummy just so he could pass out and maybe not wake up for twelve hours before you came in. 

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair. It’s too wet for him to be resting on his pillow. You want to comb it for him, dry him with the towel like a beloved pet. He breathes shallowly as he revels in the feeling of your fingers across his scalp.

“Have you been drinking enough water?”

“Christ. Yes.”

Suguru immediately regrets his sharp tone the minute he sees your eyes flicker with meekness. He sighs, cradling you closer.

“Sorry. I’m just… fucking tired.”

“Yeah, me too.” There’s an awkward silence. 

“God,” you mumble, almost to yourself. “What happened was horrible.”

“Ha. That’s reality. Could be any of us tomorrow, or the next day.”

It’s an awful thing to say, but you know he’s right. He doesn’t say it to be spiteful or insensitive, but his words sting nonetheless. It’s the air of bitterness you can sense from the lilt of his tongue. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still feels uncomfortable when you’re trying to be affectionate with him. 

He looks at the sadness in your eyes and makes an attempt to change the subject. “Do you wanna… watch a movie or something?”

“I should probably go to bed soon. I have an early mission tomorrow.”

“Seriously? After what just happened?”

“I don’t really have a say in what gets assigned to me,” you say sheepishly. 

“We all keep throwing ourselves back into work. The very work that gets our friends killed,” Suguru scoffs. “And for what? For a bunch of weaklings? Fuck.”

You pinch your brows together. “Suguru–”

“They’re the ones making the curses, anyway,” he mutters. “It’s fucking ironic that we have to protect the weak but we’re the ones who are never protected. Always martyred, instead.”

“The weak?”

“Non-sorcerers. Us sorcerers exist to protect the weak—it’s bullshit, sometimes.”

“You sound like Satoru.”

He lets out a bitter laugh at that. “So I’ve really gone off the deep end, huh?”

“No,” you sigh, caressing his jaw. “We’re all just grieving. I’ve been feeling a little crazy, too.”

He looks at you earnestly, licks his lips. “Kyoto will be nice.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I suppose it will be nice.”

“Don’t you get sick of it all?”

“Of being a sorcerer?”

Everything, he wants to scream.

“I don’t know. It’s the first thing I’ve done for myself. I mean, for others, too—that’s the whole thing—but it means more. Like I’m… worth something.”

“You’re worth a lot more than that. You always have been.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he’s also telling himself the same thing. You’re not exactly sure what he means. You like being useful, you’ve learned to like having to perfect your technique. You know you will never be as strong as Satoru or Suguru. You don’t know that Suguru is metamorphosing into something beyond his control, ever since he saw a bullet go through a girl’s skull.

His words stick with you as you fall asleep in his bed.  

You’re worth more.

September, 2010

You feel like you’re about to vomit. Blood trickles down Satoru’s palm, the sharp pin of the button in his hand still in his unfurling fist. 

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” Yaga-Sensei grimaces. “Suguru fled after killing everyone in the village.”

You can’t look anyone in the eye. You only stare at the blood on Satoru’s palm, thinking of his hands, of Suguru’s. Hands that were soft around your neck, rough on your waist and down the planes of your thighs. Hands that killed 112 people in a small village. 

When you couldn’t call him, you took the bullet train to Tokyo immediately. You thought he’d gone missing, ran away, anything but the reality of the situation. Suguru could be sharp-tongued, had rigid edges, but he was always kind. He believed in fairness above all—it was what you admired most about him. Even when he could be cruel, he could be kind.

You didn’t think he could be cruel enough to commit a mass murder in cold blood. You feel the hallway spinning, nausea crawling up your sternum and up to your head. Suguru had killed a village, and he’s left you and Satoru, and he didn’t even say goodbye.

You really need to lay down before you throw up. 

Yaga cancels your missions, so you have nothing to distract you. Nothing to do with your hands except curl your fingers around the cool bed sheet beneath you. For the next day, you stay like this — twisted inside yourself, knees tucked to your chest. Satoru is there, too, and for the first time in his life, he has nothing to say. This is a kind of grief that neither of you knows how to deal with.

“Satoru,” you whisper. “We should eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You said you haven’t eaten since this morning,” you frown.

He shrugs. He was fine with laying in bed with you, suspended in the thick tension of unspoken words. Satoru was often explosive when he was angry, but he didn’t have the energy to do anything about Suguru’s betrayal. Not unless he could find him on his own, but at this rate, Suguru could be out of the city already. 

He’s slightly watery-eyed. Something is dormant inside of him and you’re waiting for it to snap, show its teeth. You are ready to be the thing in between his canines.

He takes you eventually. Wakes you in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, prompted by nightmares of fire and bloodshed and Suguru’s glare. Satoru claws at you in his sleep until you’re holding his face and shaking him, telling him to breathe slowly. 

His breathing only gets faster. The hole that Suguru leaves inside of him needs to be filled. 

And then, your hair is in between his fists, your flesh in between his teeth. He has to take you apart so you’re like him, but you know that you had fallen apart the moment Suguru’s phone number failed when you tried to call him. 

“Satoru,” you whine. “Slow down.”

“Can’t,” he mutters, his voice rough as he gropes you in the dark. “Fuck, sorry. Need you. Missed you.”

With the way he manhandles you, you might think he’s sleepwalking. His eyes are wide open, midnight blue in the darkness. He whines when you turn away from him. 

“Please,” he chokes out. “Need it.”

You’d seen him like this before. Desperate, begging, frantic—usually because he was upset or angry. He would never tell you the details of what was in his head, only that he absolutely needed you, needed your body to satiate him. Your body was a temple for him to confess and repent in, yet it hollowed you out as if you were the one sinning.

“Shhh,” you coo, nervous. “It’s alright.”

He was like a child despite being a man, one much bigger and stronger than you. Infinitely powerful, yet he could reduce himself into a creature of need so intensely that he’s convinced you that your touch is the only remedy. 

You wrap your arms around him and he intertwines your legs together. You can feel his cock against your stomach. His face is buried in your neck, teeth nipping your collarbone. You always let him take all of you when he’s like this, never minding the feeling of being stretched thin, a taut sinew inside a predator’s mouth. You would be the balm to his chaos, always.

He lets out a heavy breath when he moves your panties to the side and his tip catches on your entrance. It’s a sound of relief, of quenched thirst. You gasp when he fits himself all the way inside you. Your body feels like a geyser ready to erupt.

He’s done this before after nightmares, after tough missions. Sometimes you would be asleep —you told him you didn’t care, and usually, you don’t. To be wanted by Satoru felt like a blessing even when it hurt like a curse.

You were sick on each other. 

His movements are hurried, kissing your neck sloppily as he ruts against you. He pushes inside and begins with quick thrusts. A full nest inside of you, your walls melting. He squeezes you tightly, his arms almost painfully clutching your waist as if he needed you tethered to him, skin sticking to skin. 

You aren’t wet enough for you to cum just yet. It was aching in you a little bit, the deepness of his cock inside you.

“S-Satoru,” you whine. “Hurts.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up — fuck — make it up to you.”

He pulls out of you and throws you against the bed, holding your legs down and parted for his mouth. He eats you like a meal, his mouth sucking on your clit brutally enough for you to become overwhelmed. He sighs as he feels you gush around his fingers. 

“Close,” you gasp. “Fuck me.”

He turns you over and humps in between your legs, slipping in and holding you down. His weight on you is almost comforting. Your head feels like it’s underwater. 

“You can take it,” he hums. He kisses your nape, bites at your shoulder. If he wasn’t so delirious about it, needing you as much as he does, he would take his time. Write his name into your skin with love bruises.

His cock had to be stirring your insides together, your cunt like whipped butter. He groans when you clench around him. He knows how close you are, despite being half-asleep, half-feral. He’s had you memorized. 

It was too hot for him to be on you like this, his body too heavy. You come at the same time, both of your voices blending together into a choked whimper. Your hair sticks to your neck with sweat.

“Y’feel so good,” Satoru mutters. “All the time.”

He gets up to piss eventually, otherwise he probably would’ve fallen asleep inside you. You hadn’t noticed the small tears at the corner of your eyes. You come back to yourself, feeling a flurry of emotions come out of your pores—sweat and tears, Satoru’s warmth spilling out of you like dripping candle wax. 

He holds you again and strokes your hair in silent apology. You fall asleep. You don’t dream.

He’d fucked you into the next afternoon, apparently, because you don’t wake up until 1 pm. The sheets are warm with his presence, but there isn’t a warm body next to you.

When he comes back, his eyes are bloodshot. 

“Satoru?”

“He… he left,” he says. 

“What do you mean he left?” 

“Shoko found him and called me. He thinks he can create a world without non-sorcerers, he’s fucking—“

“Satoru!” you snap. 

He shuts up, looks at you with big eyes, wet and dark. 

“You— you saw him?”

“Yeah, just now—”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you demand.

He blinks at you, at a loss for words. He was half-asleep when Shoko called, scrambled to put on pants before he basically warped to the middle of Shinjuku. Seeing Suguru again was whiplash. 

“I didn’t want to—you look so peaceful when you’re sleeping, y’know,” he stammers, running a hand through his haphazard white locks. Lingering bedhead. “And I didn’t want Suguru to think we were, you know, ganging up on him—”

“I wouldn’t care about being woken up if I got to see him!” you scoff. 

“You’re upset.”

“Of course I’m upset he’s my… he’s my friend, too!”

I loved him, too.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

You must be red in the face. Your face stings with a wash of irritation, your nose twitching as if you’re about to cry. 

“What did you say to him?”

“He’s turned his back on Jujutsu society. That’s all there is to it. He thinks it’s justice.”

“You didn’t try to stop him? You just let him go?”

“I couldn’t kill him. You know that,” he says, his expression hard. 

Your throat catches on a lump, a ball of malignant rage threatening to choke you. The red string that connects you and Suguru has frayed limp. Between you and Satoru, it only tightens around your neck. 

“I could’ve talked to him,” you start babbling. “I could’ve–”

“Don’t be stupid. You know how stubborn he is. You really think that you would’ve made a difference?”

You narrow your eyes, wiping them before tears start to fall. “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I just… I just know him–”

“And I don’t?” you snap. 

“I didn’t say that.”

“It’s what you’re implying.”

Satoru scoffs. “You don’t get it. He’s set on this idea of his. You wouldn’t have changed his mind, I promise you.”

You shut your eyes, feeling the dagger of his gaze twist itself into your chest. There was that feeling again—knowing that you would never be like either Satoru or Suguru. You knew that perhaps Satoru would have more power over him, and despite that, he still left. 

You weren’t there for the past two months, didn’t see the dead look in his eyes. You would never understand him. You think that maybe no one would. You hate how desperately you wanted to know him, how intensely you would claw your way for love in a way that mattered. Years of being with Satoru proved that—you still felt beneath him. Beneath both of them.

“Hey. Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“Don’t shut down. You always do that when you get upset,” Satoru grimaces.

You chew on the skin under your lip nervously. Your hands shake. You hate that Suguru has probably only shown a certain percentage of himself to you. There was no room for you to be entitled to the intricacies of his brain. 

The space between you and Satoru is a chasm. You don’t know what to do with your frustration. The only options in your head right now are to take it out on him or let it fester within yourself until you explode. Neither will do much in terms of closure. 

Satoru stares at you with jealousy stirring underneath his skin. It’s the earnestness in your hurt expression. It’s making the guilt inside him multiply like a virus.

“Are you in love with him?” Satoru asks, his voice hoarse.

You blink at him. “I don’t know,” you whisper.

“Do you love him more than you love me?”

“What? What does that have to do with–”

“Just answer.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” you mutter. 

Satoru winces, your words a sharp sting to his face. He hadn’t preferred either of you over the other, but he was protective of you in a way that he didn’t feel for Suguru. It ran deep enough to make him crazy—Suguru knew that. For some reason, it wasn’t anything that Satoru could admit out loud. 

He sighs heavily. “I love both of you. You know that.”

“Why are you asking this, Satoru?”

“Because… fuck. Because it doesn’t matter how much you and I loved him! It doesn’t fucking matter. He’s gone, okay?”

He’s too consumed with the thought of you beside him on that sidewalk, surrounded by a crowd. Tunnel vision set on a beautiful boy with sharp eyes, casually ready to leave the both of you in the dust. Part of him hates how much you love Suguru, how much Suguru seemed to love you back. He hates how much you’re fussing over his best friend when all he’s ever done since he met you was fuss over you. 

He hates how much he loves Suguru. So much so that out of his own selfishness, he wanted to face him alone when Shoko called. He didn’t want you beside him when he confronted Suguru, didn’t want to see the inevitable tears on your face once Suguru walked away. 

Satoru is convinced that you were made from him, and if he’s lost one soulmate, he refuses to lose another. 

And yet, you look at him coldly, like you’re going to leave, and his heart jumps out of his chest.

[chrisevansonly]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐜 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: the day had finally come to bring little matteo to the track. charles had been waiting for this day since he was born, but made sure to wait until you were ready. now matteo is 6 months old and his father couldn’t be more excited to show him everything he could about f1

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧��𝐬: mentions of anxiety, harsh media but other than that, lots of fluff!

𝐚/𝐧: here she is! chapter two and man have the past few days been taxing on me, i’m just trying to focus on writing and ignoring everything else so, i hope your enjoying this series and are looking forward to this chapter! it’s a bit on the shorter end but i hope that’s okay, i haven’t been feeling well lately<3

𝐰𝐜: 900 ish…?

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

It was finally the long-awaited day, well for Charles at least, where little Matteo was finally going to be heading to the track to watch the grand prix. Well technically you had agreed to qualifying day and if all went well then you would come back for the race on Sunday. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to bring your baby boy to watch his father do what he loves, you were still just an anxious new mom, and your husband knew that.

“Okay, extra bottles…his pacifier, pluto the dog”

“Baby, I think you have everything..”

Shaking your head you paused

“Charles, I need to make sure I have everything because if I don’t and he freaks out I-I just”

“Whoa..okay..”

Charles placed his hands on your shoulders, your eyes coming up to meet his which of course were full of nothing but love for you

“Are you sure you want to come?” he asked, no hint of disappointment at all

“Yes, I do..Char I promise I do..I’m sorry I just am all over the place I suppose”

Charles nodded, understanding exactly where you were coming from, thankfully the two of you were able to have a quiet moment together as Matteo napped before you had to leave

“It’s okay, I know you’re anxious, but we’ll take it one step at a time okay? When I can’t be with you I know Joris or Marta will be right?”

You nodded

“You also know if you need anything at all you can have someone from the team get me right away right..?”

He waited until you nodded once again before pressing a kiss to your forehead

“Right…no you’re right..okay I think I have everything ready to go then”

“Good, then let’s go get the little man and head out!”

-

Monaco was a beautiful city, but on race week and weekend it seemed to get that much more magical. The paddock was no different, familiar faces and friends could be spotted easily, Charles’s family around as well which was perfect for Matteo

“Bonjour petit ours!”

At the sound of Arthur Leclerc’s voice, Matteo squealed as he began to wave his little arms around, the younger Leclerc brother quickly coming over and taking him from you, before leaning forward to pull you in for a hug, placing a kiss on both of your cheeks

“Bonjour chouchou”

“Hi Thur, nice to see a familiar face”

He smiled

“Yes I would think so, this year is a bit crazy, I was just about to walk over to the Ferrari garage if you want company?”

“I’d love that! Where is Carla?”

Matteo placed a hand on Arthur’s cheek as he babbled away, his little eyes looking at everything around him

“Oh she is on her way, i’m sure she’ll be glued to you both”

Ever since you’d started your relationship with Charles and had the chance to meet Carla when she came into Arthur’s life, you’d been super close to one another, it was like having a little sister all in one.

“Well he seems to be quite content to be here”

You smiled as you looked at your little one, his eyes still enamoured by the sights and noises

“I’m surprised, I was so anxious he’d be scared of everything”

“He is a Leclerc, he was born for this.”

Arthur sent you a wink as you both arrived at the garages, truth be told the comment he made had sent a bit of worry throughout you. Charles grew up karting, and it was something he had begun to talk to you about with Matteo, and you were absolutely terrified. Terrified at the thought of him getting in that little kart, terrified to watch him go fast and potentially get hurt. It was a thought for another day.

Matteo had settled back into your arms as his uncle kissed his head and then walked away towards some of his F2 friends he’d spotted, giving you time to bring your baby boy over to the garage. It wasn’t long before he let out his tell tale excited squeal, and it meant he had either spotted his father, or Max Verstappen. Matteo’s relationship with Max was something so adorable, he’d gotten close to the dutch driver from a young age, and he and Kelly had always been two of the first people you’d call to babysit, besides your mother in law of course.

“Hey there little speed demon!”

You rolled your eyes at Max as he was quick to come over and take Matteo from you

“Oh sorry Y/N didn’t even see you there” he teased

“Sure, no I totally understand, I’m virtually invisible when I’ve got this cutie with me”

Max went to rebuttal when an arm slipped around your waist and a pair of lips pressed to your temple

“Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie”

“Aww merci bébé!”

Leaning into Charles you laughed as Max was quick to cover Matteo’s eyes

“Come on, we need to escape, too much grossness here for you baby leclerc!”

“Bring him back before quali please!”

Charles yelled as Max began to walk away, the red bull driver yelling a ‘you got it!’ back before it was just you and your husband.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked letting you lean further into his side, knowing you needed a bit more comfort, especially when Matteo wasn’t around

“A bit better, Teo’s been loving every second..I should have known everything would be okay”

“No, it’s okay to be anxious you know that, it’s his first time here…I know you’re anxious right now knowing he’s not with you”

You hated how easily he could read you, and man did he know you inside and out like a book

“He’s safe with Max, i’m sure he’s gone to see Kelly as well, if you want I can call him?” he offered which had you shaking your head

“Oh no, let him enjoy his time, though i’m sure Maman will be over soon begging to take him, I think she’s jealous of Max”

This had Charles laughing as he nodded in agreement

“Yes she was telling me the other day that he spends far too much time with Max”

“We’re so lucky aren’t we?”

“We are.”

It always occurred to you that unlike some families you would never ever run out of love, in fact you had an abundance of it. From your friends and family, to Charles’s friends and family. Matteo would always grow up with so many people around him that adored him just as much as you and Charles did.

Even if there was a deeper conversation waiting and gnawing at you to be had, it could wait for another day. Right now you only wanted to focus on your family and Matteo as he got his first taste at Formula One track life. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face seeing how happy your boys were. Charles had settled into being a father so gracefully, managing his time at work and at home in a way that had you so grateful.

“It’s almost quali..we should go find Teo”

“Good idea, Max has stolen my son enough!”

Shaking your head, Charles took your hand and began to walk towards the one spot you knew where he would be. Soon enough, you saw your little boy laughing and clapping as he was entertained by not only Max but Christian as well.

At least you knew if Ferrari didn’t pick him when he got older Red Bull would.

english translations:

Bonjour petit ours - hello little bear

Bonjour chouchou - hello sweetheart

Tu n’es jamais invisible pour moi, chérie - you are never invisible to me baby

Aww merci bébé - thank you baby

ʚlittle karter series tag list

@goldenmclaren @a1leexxa @piastricodedfr @treehouse-mouse @therealcap @goldenalbon @wintfleur

[softfem-dom]

just being delulu about hybrid!outsiders au, you're just a young wealthy woman that has her life solved thanks to being the heir to your father's succesful bussiness. You just have to sit around in your desk, in your huge countryhouse, and do some stupid paperwork. You just have to sign and aprove and decline and repeat, easy, right? Well, you are really starting to dislike the utter silence in your house. Everything is too quiet and too empty and you sure as hell ain't gonna have kids anytime soon without a partner. So you head up to the locel hybrid kennel, because it's better than adopting and paying for pure breed dogs when there are ones about to be sacrified. And then, once you enter, you're greeted by the sight of a lot of hybrids in pitiful conditions. Mostly males. So you head up to the closest worker and ask "which is the one that is closer to being sacrified?" and the man simply points towards a small cage with a tan-skinned hybrid (that looked scared out of his mind) "that one" he replies nonchantaly.

So you go and try and adopt that stray Greyhound hybrid, named Johnny, only for other dogs to start barking at you. Seemingly, to get Johnny you had to get Dallas—a Canary Mastiff—. And to get Dallas you had to get Two-Bit—a Siberian Husky—. And to get Two-Bit you had to get Steve—a Weimaraner—. And to get Steve you had to get Sodapop—a Golden Retriever—. And to get Soda you had to get Ponyboy—a Belgian Tervurem—. And to get Ponyboy you had to get Darry—a German Shepherd—. Basically, they were an inter-breed pack and either you got them all or you got none. And, against your better judgement and because you couldn't just let them be sacrified —because you were sensitive like that, damn—, you ended up taking them all in.

—Wich was at both the best decission of your life and the worst mistake you've ever made—.

,,

Darry was goddamn glad you had agreed to take them all in, mainly because you were more-or-less his age and he was no longer the only figure of authority in the group. He was the most helpful, often offering to help you wash the dishes or cook lunch.

Johnny was the most shy one of them all, he had a guarded nature and it seemed something had happened to make him all-the-more anxious and wary around new people. However, he seems to be taking a liking to you by the way he usually drops on his knees under your desk whenever you're working and rests his head on your lap —more often-than-not playing around with your skirt or pants—.

Ponyboy was the youngest, but surpsisingly not the most hyper despite still being practically a puppy. He's very smart and will often correct you just to (affectionately) get on your nerves, he also likes to read your books so you better keep anything with inapropiate content out of his reach if you don't want an earful from his brother Darry.

The most hyper price is won by both Sodapop and Two-Bit, they're just two overeager hybrids that are completely ecstatic about living in your house —often sticking their noses where they shouldn't, but oh well. Soda is very hyper, constantly orbiting around you and asking about everything you do —even when you're just cooking and he has seen Darry cook plenty of time before, he just wants you to talk to him—. There are no thoughts™ inside his pretty head, and also the most reactive to praise. Just slip in a "good boy" or "such a good job!" and he's melting into a puddle of goo in the floor, tail wagging furiously. Two-Bit is hyper too, but more on the restless side of the spectrum. He just needs distractions, put on mickey mouse on the TV or give him a newspaper to tear apart and he's all good 👍.

Steve is more.. on the reserved side, a little more grumpy and stubborn —and the only one to have ever flared his teeth at you—. It's not that he doesn't like you, at the contrary:; he damn loves you for taking the whole gang in, but that's just his personality. He'll show how grateful he is by helping you out in subtle things, like picking up the toys from the others and placing them all in one place so you don't go crazy when it's time to put them in their box, or by making sure no one —Dallas— steals anything personal from you.

Dallas is the biggest deal out of them all though, he's just completely unhinged. He doesn't follow your rules and is constantly going out of his way just to do specifically what you told him not to —thank god that Darry's there to keep him in his place from time to time—. He's a total bastard, and is always being a bitch about things and also always saying comments about your body and how hot you are. Also you're pretty sure a few panties of yours have gone missing.. But, in the end, at least your house is not empty anymore, neither silent, constantly echoed in: "mommy!" that's Johnny. "ma'!" that one's Steve. "mommaaaa!" that's Ponyboy complaining about something, no doubts. "miss mommy!" those two are, no doubt, Two-Bit and Soda. "mama~" that damn sing-song tone is Dallas'. And yes, Johnny, you can read him a book even though he's clearly able to do it himself. Yes, Steve, you know where his shirt is, but he can't go around shirtless like that.Yes, Ponyboy, you can give him a can of coke even tho he's obviously able to get it himself. Yes, Soda and Two-Bit, you can put the channel in which they stream mickey mouse™ even if they already know which it is. And yes—oh, actually no, Dallas, you won't shower him, he can do it himself.

SORRY THE DELULU HIT HARD 😭

[sugar--brown]

The mechanisms were Jon's college band AU

You see this AU crossover between The Mechanisms and The Magnus archives? Yeah, I like that one.

But I prefer the two groups being only linked by Jon. So, Nicholas is not Toy Soldier, Basira/Georgie is not Ashes, etc... I just like to think Jon has the coolest friend group/family to hang out outside of work and no one except Rosie knows about the mechs.

I want to try writting a chatfic too, so here it is. It's just the first chapter but I'm so anxious that I can't continue for now...

- Monday, 06:02 - The crew of the starship Aurora

Jonny d’Ville: sent a photo

[The Magnus Institute stands tall over the photographer; they had to bend backward a bit to capture the top of the building. The grey sky of this early September morning makes a great background for the golden dome, which overlooks the institute]

Jonny d’Ville: I am here.

Ashes O’Reilly: didn’t you work here for 4 years now?

Gunpowder Tim: yeah you sound like a little kid telling his family that he arrived safe

Raphaella la Cognizi: are we ur family jon? its so sweet

Toy Soldier: Awww (づ￣ ³￣)づ

Jonny d’Ville: Shut up! You are the ones who insisted that I send you news more often.

Nastya Rasputina: Just say you are nervous about your new job and that you try to buy time by talking to us.

Nastya Rasputina: Iris whishes you good luck.

Jonny d’Ville: Are you together right now?

Nastya Rasputina: Yes Jon, at 6am we are not at work yet. Only you do that.

Ashes O’Reilly: wait hang on why are you awake Tim?

Ashes O’Reilly: I thought you were doing the night shift

Gunpowder Tim: Don’t worry big sib Alex, I go right to bed after giving some support to our first mate ;)

Jonny d’Ville: It is captain for you.

Gunpowder Tim: FIRST MATE

Nastya Rasputina: FIRST MATE

Ashes O’Reilly: FIRST MATE

Toy Soldier: FIRST MATE

Raphaella la Cognizi: FIRST MATE

Marius von Raum: FIRST MATE

Drumbot Brian: FIRST MATE

Ivy Alexandria: FIRST MATE

Jonny d’Ville: Oh! Now you are all here!

Toy Soldier: Take it as us wishing you good luck (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Jonny d’Ville: Fine. I do not have time for that anyway, I am already late.

Nastya Rasputina: You are certainly NOT.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- - 09:32 -

Jonny d’Ville: Does anyone know how to find and catch a dog without any property damages?

Gunpowder Tim: … what?

Raphaella la Cognizi: do u have some dog food with u?

Jonny d’Ville: Of course not!

Nastya Rasputina: Context.

Jonny d’Ville: Yes, right.

Jonny d’Ville: Elias (my boss) decided to assigned a third assistant to the archives. He’s sloppy, slow, clumsy and had let a dog in. It had been thirty minutes that we all try to catch it.

Gunpowder Tim: Aren’t you supposed to work in some kind of archives, J?

Jonny d’Ville: I do.

Raphaella la Cognizi: i want to meet ur new assistant

Raphaella la Cognizi: i like dog send a picture!

Jonny d’Ville: Yes, thank you Raphaella, I will. But, I really need to find the beast before it makes serious damages or my boss learns about it.

Gunpowder Tim: You didn’t see where it went?

Jonny d’Ville: Sadly, no. It went straight into the depth of the archives.

Nastya Rasputina: I can feel your anxiety through my phone. Deep breath, it’s not the end of the world.

Jonny d’Ville: It could be the end of my career.

Nastya Rasputina: No.

Gunpowder Tim: Send us a picture Jonny-boy, maybe we could help!

Jonny d’Ville: sent a photo

[The photo is a bit blurry and dark, but it’s possible to see shelves full of files and papers, boxes on the ground and a few old office furniture scattered around. On the floor, a muddy trail is barely noticeable.]

Raphaella la Cognizi: paw prints!!!!

Gunpowder Tim: Follow the mud Jonny!

Nastya Rasputina: Just treat the dog like a very active cat and bring it back outside, its owner should search it.

Jonny d’Ville: Thank you, everyone, I think I hear it now.

Raphaella la Cognizi: No prob!

Gunpowder Tim: You got this!

Nastya Rasputina: Don’t freak out and don’t overthink it. It’s just a job like any other.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- - 10:23 - The crew of the starship Aurora

Toy Soldier: Did I just miss Jon chasing a dog in his workplace?! ｡･ﾟﾟ*(>д<)*ﾟﾟ･｡

Raphaella la Cognizi: he promised to send a picture

Toy Soldier: (❤ω❤)

Jonny d’Ville: sent a photo

[It’s a closeup of the spaniel sniffing at the camera. The pavement of the sideroad is visible just like the wagging tail of the dog]

Raphaella la Cognizi: doggie! thanks jonny u made my day! pet it for me!

Toy Soldier: ฅ V•ᴥ•Vฅ!!! <3

Jonny d’Ville: My nerves are officially fried.

Toy Soldier: More than the time you asked Georgie out?

Jonny d’Ville: shut up!

Raphaella la Cognizi: come on j! it can happen to anyone no need to stress

Jonny d’Ville: I don’t need a surprise new coworker who mess things up first thing in the morning.

Raphaella la Cognizi: sounds like good story!

Toy Soldier: Yes! Tell us!

Jonny d’Ville: It’s nothing. Just Elias not warning me that I will have a third assistant. And the said assistant let a dog in the archives when he arrived. He looks clumsy, dumb, and useless.

Jonny d’Ville: I swear! He tried to buy me with a cup of tea! How disgustingly sweet is that? And he wears the most hideous and soft looking jumpers I have ever seen!

Jonny d’Ville: Disgusting.

Jonny d’Ville: Why is no one saying anything anymore?

Raphaella la Cognizi: nothing nothing

Toy Soldier: Just go back to work! ρ(- ω -、)ヾ(￣ω￣; )

Jonny d’Ville: Right. Yes. Better to get back. Have a nice day.

Raphaella la Cognizi: luv u!

Toy Soldier: (⌒ω⌒)ﾉ

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- - 12:11 - Tim to Jules

Tim: Marius

Tim: Marius my good man

Tim: Marius our real psychologist

Tim: Marius our ship doctor

Tim: Jules! It’s important come on!

Jules: Can’t I have one lunch break in peace?

Tim: Not when Jonny is dropping bombs like that in the group chat!

Jules: Let me check

Jules: Oh my

Tim: Soooooo?

Jules: yeah, the new assistant caught his attention.

Tim: just like with Jun!

Jules: like with Jun?

Tim: we never told you this story?

Jules: I know they were best friends over their mutual love of gothic, tragic, and angsty storytelling and that Jun taught him queerness but I’m not sure how it applies here

Tim: we didn’t tell you! Oh this is great! Let me tell you what happened before Jun and Jonny became Dr Carmilla and Jonny d’Ville.

Tim: well technically Jun had had already her persona but you see my point

Tim: alright so Jonny was this weird, emo, kid in first year of college. He was a mess really, worst than when you met him.

Tim: Jun was a Japanese student here in London to study for a year before going back to Japan and welcome London’s students. Exchange program yada yada yada…

Jules: I know that, you know?

Tim: shhhhhh… let me tell the story

Tim: so! When Jun started to be better than him in their literature class, Jonny was mad! I wasn’t even his friend but I could see it, the two of them spent all their breaks bickering. Jonny in his soft, shy, but angry voice and Jun in her broken English mixed with Japanese.

Jules: Wait hang on

Jules: They weren’t friends because they were good at the same things?

Jules: I thought that Jonny always treated Carmilla like some kind of idol, having a little crush on her and all.

Tim: they did after exchanging notebooks by accident! Jonny loved Carmilla’s songs so much and Carmilla loved his stories so much that they finally talked normally and became friends

Tim: and yes Jonny had very strong feelings for Carmilla from the start, but he’s just terrible at expressing it

Tim: like a kid bothering another one because they don’t know how to keep their attention on them

Tim: but I doubt it was romantic

Jules: Wait wait wait

Jules: are you implying that this new assistant Jonny just met is his new crush?

Tim: that’s what I’m asking you!

Jules: well… it’s true that Jonny has troubles to express himself…

Tim: mh mh!

Jules: but it could also be because he’s very stressed from having being promoted to head archivist and having to deal with someone new when he requested his colleagues.

Tim: yeah, “colleagues”

Jules: We both know what he means ;)

Jules: My diagnostic: we can keep an eye on it

Tim: Yesssssss

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- - 17:01 - Archives team baby!

Timothy had created the group Archives team baby!

Timothy had added Sasha

Timothy had added Martin

Timothy changed Sasha’s name for Hacker

Timothy changed Thimothy’s name for Inspector Tim

Inspector Tim changed Martin’s name for New Guy

Inspector Tim: Here we go! All done!

Hacker: Well that was quick, one minute after the workday is done. Impressive.

Inspector Tim: What can I say? I am a man of many talents! ;p

Hacker: Can’t deny that.

Hacker: But if allow me…

Hacker changed Hacker’s name for Sasha

Inspector Tim: Hey! I didn’t allow you!

Sasha: It would be easier for Martin to remember our name if we keep them written on this chat.

Inspector Tim: But he needs to know the dynamic too :(

New Guy: I don’t mind either way… whatever you prefer

Inspector Tim: Don’t be shy! We are all friends here!

Sasha changed New Guy’s name for Martin

Inspector Tim: :( :( :(

Sasha: Let’s keep it simple for now.

Inspector Tim: Alright alright but I keep Inspector Tim because I’m wonderful

Inspector Tim: So! Let’s play 20 questions!

Sasha: I thought you wanted to do it at a pub

Inspector Tim: This is the sober version, so we can compare ;)

Inspector Tim: Here’s the rules! Sasha and I know each other so we will team up. We will ask a question, you answer, and you ask a question, and we answer. 10 questions by team! Got it?

Martin: I think…

Sasha: Play without me, I’m entering the no signal part of the tube.

Inspector Tim: aw :(

Inspector Tim: Well I start then! What do you think of Jon?

Inspector Tim: Martin?

Inspector Tim: I see you typing for three minutes straight now, I’m getting worried

Inspector Tim: No pressure! You can refuse to answer.

Martin: Sorry!

Martin: It’s hard to find the right words…

Inspector Tim: Relax!

Inspector Tim: I won’t tell him ;p

Martin: I guess he’s alright… he seems professional and hardworking, I’m glad to work with him

Inspector Tim: That sounds like more a job interview but fair enough! Don’t hesitate to come see us if you have troubles, he can be a bit…

Sasha: special.

Inspector Tim: Yeah! That! But he’s nice

Inspector Tim: Deep deep deep down

Inspector Tim: (glad to have you back sash’)

Sasha: Your turn, Martin

Martin: What is your favourite band/song/music?

Inspector Tim: A safe choice but a very interesting one, very smart…

Sasha: Since I know Tim is busy googling the exact song he wants you to judge him on, I will answer first.

Inspector Tim: *thumb up*

Sasha: I like songs which tell stories, no matter the gender, I’m not a fan of generic lyrics.

Sasha: @ Inspector Tim your turn

Inspector Tim: Already?!

Inspector Tim: You lost your flamboyant speech

Inspector Tim: The archives fed on it

Sasha: Stop being dramatic and answer the question

Inspector Tim: Kay kay

Inspector Tim: It’s I kissed a girl of Katy Perry

Inspector Tim: The perfect mix of queerness for me

Sasha: Tim is pan, for context. So a song celebrating lesbian loved by a queer man is a good definition of him.

Martin: That’s great!

Martin: I mean no

Martin: Yes!

Martin: I just want to say that it’s great that you are comfortable with it

Martin: Not like you couldn’t be!

Inspector Tim: Relax Martin, I get it

Inspector Tim: And thank you!

Sasha: Really, Martin, we just want to integrate you in the group, so no stress.

Martin: Thank you

Martin: It really means a lot

[kenmakodz]

CANDID LOVE ˙✧˖📷

06. brain food ☆

writing in-between cuts!

a quiet knock on the door catches your attention, which was previously focused on scrolling through random shows on Netflix. a weird feeling, you get. an emotion that seems to be the love-child of excitement and nervousness. there's no time to run away from these feelings, though, so you get up and open the door for the poor boy who's been hauling 3 bags of food.

"my god" he sighs, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "i think my stomach has eyes. there's no way we're finishing all this in one night." you laugh, noticing how he's holding his arm out of pain. "i've definitely done the same, more times than i'd like to admit-- here, sit down for a bit." gesturing to the couch, you sit down and pat a spot relatively close to you. he takes this offer with open arms, considering he'd walked pretty far. "sorry i took a while, hopefully i didn't keep you waiting too long?" his hands fidget together as he takes in your room. it's the size of a triple, but you have it to yourself. it's quite surprising how nice the school treats transfer students, considering how main students are usually shoved into a tiny room with 2-3 other people. you place your hand upon his; a ballsy move, but you know how it feels to be anxious about things. you don't want him to be anxious with you. "it's fine, really. i don't mind waiting for you." you smile, moving your hand back to it's previous position. embarrassment clearly runs through his body, but to you he just looked starstruck. after a moment of pushing these feelings back, he returns your smile. "i'm glad, then. um, can we eat? i fear my stomach is going to wrinkle up if we don't." "yes yuuta, we can eat."

"okay, okay. this seems good for now, i think?" he sits back from the laptop you two have been sharing, taking a second to re-read the outline. your eyes scan the page as well; it's a very.. rough outline. you start laughing at the last few lines, where he'd begun to give up on being professional. after all, only you two will see this draft. "why are you laughing?" he pouts, thinking you're making fun of the ideas laid out. "oh relax," you lean back with him, realizing he's gotten much closer than before. "i can just tell that you were rushing writing the final scene." his head whips to you and a hand clutches his chest, feigning shock; a sarcastic gasp falls from his lips. "how could you! we worked very hard on this!" your hand pushes his away from his chest, the both of them landing on his lap. "oh, shut up. i'm just teasing." he huffs anyways, a facade you've become accustomed to. after all, one of your best friends is nobara kugisaki.

reaching to a stuffed dog to your side, you hand it to him. "here, will an emotional support dog help?" he sighs, wrapping it in his arms. "i suppose." laughing again, you sit up and grab the laptop once more. "you're so dumb." he grips the toy more, you don't realize it, but he likes the way it smells of lavender just like you do. "what are you doing now, don't you think its enough for tonight?" you stop to think, after sending the draft to your phone. "well, we'll need to send casting calls to the neighboring schools sometime soon.. but i guess we can be done for now." he closes the laptop for you and places it on the table once again, looking back. "good, we can do that another time-" his sentence is cut off due to his phone practically blowing up in the room over. "sorry," he starts, getting up and handing the stuffed dog back to you. "let me go check on that."

"hey, sorry again. my friends were blowing up my phone for some reason." he comes back into the room where you two were sitting before, unsure if he should sit back down. he can't read your face, and you can't read his either, despite you both feeling the same way. "it's okay. you can sit back down if you want to stay a bit longer..?" you look down for a split second, anticipating the rejection he was about to give you. "i was looking for shows before you got here, but i couldn't find a good one." you try to convey what you say as a question, but it almost comes out as a plea. he doesn't say anything immediately, and you almost get upset? looking back up, you realize he's already getting ready to sit back down with you. "i'd love to stay. i also have an amazing suggestion for a show." your eyes light up, and it feels like the room filled with more air the way you both sighed with relief. "oh really?" you tease him, as he takes back the toy he'd left with you. "lay it on me then."

fun facts -> TWO PEOPLE PINING FOR EACHOTHER BUT NEITHER KNOW IT!!!! a classic trope. chefs kiss. yuuta offered to go get snacks not only because he was starving, but he also needed time to calm himself down before going to y/n's dorm. he was scared. scared that he'd say something stupid, give her the ick, embarrass himself. you know, the works. once he got there though, it felt like he never wanted to go home again.

-> GOD I LOVE THEM SO MUCh. screams. kicking my feet like a little girl writing this chapter.

previous, masterlist, next [07. i hate men (except you two)]

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[vevobly]

Being Misty Quigley's Girlfriend Headcanons (Pre-Crash) [Part 1]

A/N: Ignoring Misty being absolutely "boy-crazy" with Coach Ben almost to the point of obsession, I'm making you her object of love instead! Devour and enjoy, my fellow Misty enthusiasts.

Misty is absolutely devoted to you. Like in the original story, being anyone's girlfriend (especially the person she loves) means the world to her. The girl goes above and beyond to make you feel loved, sometimes even to the point of it being overwhelming. You don't want to know the lengths she'll go to just for you.

Misty showers you with affection through small but intense gestures like leaving notes in your locker, crafting handmade gifts, or constantly checking in on you to make sure you're okay. For Misty, your happiness means everything.

To your surprise, Misty is strangely confident in your relationship. Of course, that doesn't mean all is well with her. Misty is pretty insecure, especially about her place in your life. Sure, you love her now, but will you still love her after a few years? She constantly worries that she's not good enough for you or that you might leave her for someone else.

Because of this, she tends to ask if she's doing enough to make you happy or if you still love her. You always have to remind her from time to time that you're with her because you want to be, not out of pity or obligation, as she sometimes thinks. While her insecurity can be a bit too much, you understand her and always reassure her.

Misty is your personal cheerleader and your number-one fan. It doesn't matter if you're just participating in a school event, studying for a big test, or even having a rough day! She’s always there to support you (over-enthusiastically). She'll bring you snacks, shower you with praise, and offer to help with anything you need. Again, it can be overwhelming at times, but you appreciate whatever she does for you no matter what.

Knowing this girl? There is no doubt she has trouble understanding boundaries, especially yours. She often wants to be around you 24/7, and if she feels like you're pulling away, even just a little. She will get anxious, extremely anxious. You have to gently remind her occasionally that you're your own person, you have your own space that you need which she invades intentionally or unintentionally habitually. And while she struggles with the concept at first (she believes in that whole thing about couples being one when in love), she does try her best to respect it. Of course, the fact she never fully relaxes unless she's near you is an entirely different matter for another time.

If it wasn't obvious already, Misty absolutely loves doing things for you. It doesn't matter if she's helping you with your homework, making you lunch, running errands for you, or whatever; this girl will go out of her way to prove just how loyal and devoted she is. Aside from words of affirmation, acts of service are her way of showing how much she cares about you. You're the treasure she wants to keep all to herself, the jewelry she values more than anythi-

And of course with Misty being Misty, she'll sometimes go overboard with it. Doing things you didn't ask for—like organizing your locker or buying you things you don’t need, just because she thinks they’ll make you happy. Do you hate it? No, but it can be annoying and even frustrating at times. Again, you love her, but sometimes her love for you can be suffocating.

Misty is extremely protective of you (similar to a poodle dog). She can't stand the absolute idea of anyone hurting or even slightly upsetting you. Just like I've said before, this girl will go to great lengths for you. Especially if it's to ensure you're safe and happy. This girl won't hesitate to jump up to your defense if anyone says anything negative about you. She'll be quick with it too regardless if it was someone close to you or not.

You can bet Misty's protectiveness verges on possessiveness sometimes. Yeah, she loves you, but she doesn't want anyone else other than her getting way too close to you. Once again, you're nevertheless any smarter about it. Excusing her behavior again and again after the other.

Misty is hella big on physical affection. She's always eager to hold your hand, hug you, or kiss you in public. She doesn't care what other people think, none of them matter when she has you with her. And besides! Being affectionate with you is her way of showing the world that you're hers.

While you absolutely enjoy it, once again, it can be a bit too much. Especially in public spaces. Every once in a while, you have to remind her to tone it down in front of others. I mean, with the way Misty is towards you, you guys could be mistaken as two horny hormonal teenagers. (Jackie even made a few jokes about it, saying you guys were practically devouring each other's faces. You made no comment about it even after Natalie casually stated she caught you two getting heated in the janitor's closet.)

Misty is a quick victim of jealousy. She gets easily jealous of anyone, especially your friends if she feels like they're taking up too much of your time. She'll ask a lot of questions (practically interrogating you) about your plans with them and sometimes even try to insert herself into your friend group.

While she'll never openly admit it, it's obvious she fears being replaced. So you have to reassure her every now and then that your friendships with other people won't diminish your love for her.

You can guarantee Misty rambling on and on about her interests from minor things such as obscure trivia to major things like her passion for becoming a nurse one day. She is incredibly eager to talk your ear off about anything and everything she can, to show you whatever. You're always interested in what she has to say, but her certain ardor for macabre stuff is something else and you won't lie that you don't find it a little unsettling. But this is Misty! Your weird yet completely wonderful girlfriend so you don't mind it that much. It's not like Misty would do anything about her knowledge of those things immorally, right..?

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hello! Could we get your opinion on which tkdb cat would make the best biscuits?

They are just silly buggers, mischief babies if you must and we love them for that

Best kitty cook pulling overtime

Kaito is a cuddly baby, whenever possible sneaking between your arms and napping enjoying your body heat. It just rarely happens because the other cats tend to monopolize your nap times. He also does it when he gets anxious or Romeo gets close to his hiding spot.

Sho kneads both his and Leo's bed each night and if you pick him up to nap and Leo isn't around he will make biscuits on your bed.

Towa is just a silly baby that loves his human and physical contact! It's totally unrelated how he brushes against your legs and tries to fuse with you when you return home smelling of other cats or spoil Ren too much.

Haku is another loving boy who waits in bed for you when it's your time to sleep and even whine if you don't follow him, after he will paw at your tummy, your lap, your chest anything he can get his paws on to keep you in bed longer 🥹🥺

Only if he feels comfortable

Jin does biscuits in your tummy when he is about to sleep and you feed him catnip, he is high and sleepy and his baby instincts take over.

Leo, two faced as always, will make biscuits in your blanket when you record him, acting all sweet and baby-like but when the video stops so does his act.

Ren paws at his pillow when the gameplays gets good.

Romeo is very picky but ends up kneading his little silk pillow in a corner after his annoyances (Ritsu and Taiga) went to sleep and needs to relieve some stress from his paws. He does accept a little massage and lotion to his paw beans.

Ritsu was separated from his mommy at an early age so when he is VERY comfortable or under anesthesia he makes biscuits as if you were his mom.

Zenji does biscuits in one specific scenario, when you have to take Jiro to the vet for the night, he sneaks into that zone of the house and kneads it before sleeping in his brother's bed. In the morning he is gone.

Yuri does it sometimes when he gets sick, draping himself in your comforter in your bed until you come check on him.

Rarely does biscuits

Thoma rarely has the time to fix his little bed and knead it before sleeping and even more rarely does he want to cuddle, when he kneads he uses too much claw and ends up hurting a bit

Luca is a somewhat cuddly cat but hardly ever does he allow himself to be so vulnerable. He is your knight and has to protect you!!

Alan used to do it on Thoma before Jin came home and he went to help him, now he fears stabbing you or the kitties with his claws so he only does it when Thoma comes to him to chat a bit.

Haru is too busy hurrying after the critters in the yard and trying to save his favorite baby from Taiga. His paws hurt a bit at the end of the day so of you massage them with lotion he will purr.

Taiga LOVES to de-stress his claws, the only reason I don't call it kneading is that whatever pillow or fabric he chose ends up torn to shreds. He still hasn't torn Pikaboo apart because Haru manages to snatch it back.

Subaru is a very skittish kitty so he rarely feels comfortable enough! The few times you see him make biscuits is in his hideout or in your bedroom with the door closed but he stops when he senses any other cat or human.

Rui dislikes physical touch so he won't ever knead you or the other cats, he rarely makes biscuits on plushies.

Lyca was raised by dogs so you wouldn't have thought he knew how to but to your surprise you once caught him making biscuits on Subaru in the sun once or twice.

Old man Ed rarely -if at all- kneads anything, preferring to sprawl himself in your lap while you fawn over him.

never one to do unnecessary things, Jiro doesn't see any point in that so he doesn't do it. IF you managed to make him do it (somehow??) he would accidentally do it too hard and stab your skin enough to bleed.

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

5 Times, He Knew

A new series when your man just knew that you were the one for him

yay, I came out of my den and finally wrote something. sorry guys but it was a very hectic 6 months for me a lot of things happened and I found myself not writing at all but I will try to be more active. apologize and sending you kisses MAIN MASTERLIST.

1. Coffee order

Coffee was Clark's lifeline, ever since adapting to the new city, moving from FarmVille to Metropolis. Coffee, freshly roasted coffee, was his ticket to calmness. When he met you in a coffee shop, he enjoyed the way you considered your coffee important in the day as much as he did.

Bit by bit, coffee by coffee, you two grew close. Relationship close. Small dates turned into night-long discussions about the anime Perfect Blue, lunches that were way longer than the prescribed 45-minute break from work, and drinks in the night, which ensued a little sneaky session in Clark's truck.

Remembering all the small details about you, your routine, your memberships that drain your card, some of which he reminds you to unsubscribe since you don't use them, places you go to calm and relax. Even when he is patrolling, flying through the clouds, he likes to ensure you are safe. Most of the time, listen in on your conversations with your friends while you say components about your man.

But one of the things that makes him a winner in your books is… you remember his coffee order.

white decaf mocha with one pump of caramel syrup and whipped cream on top with chocolate sprinkles

Once, when you came to him after work home, you brought coffee for the two of you. You knew about Clark, you knew about Superman, and you knew about Kal-El, and all of them liked coffee. When you offered the coffee to Clark, reciting the coffee order without hesitation, he swore he fell in love all over again.

'But that's not all. I have something else.' 'What?' 'A pupicino for Krypto!"

Scratch that; Clark was already in his mind buying you a ring.

2. Bachelor watch time

Clark is a romantic person; he is cheesy... so cheesy it borderlines into date-time reality shows, ei The Bachelor. A man/woman who has a harem of people fighting over their hearts and while some drama and unforgettable moments ensue, sign him up. He enjoys watching Bachelorette and Bachelor and especially enjoys watching re-runs with you. He enjoys the way he can talk to you about it, tell you his theories about the contestants, and say his thoughts about the outfits.

Clark enjoys talking about the show after, slicing his ideas for dates on the show more so going far to write a draft for a new episode. Clark loves to spill his thoughts when the roses are given. He loves the way he can talk about it to you with no shame. It is a guilty pleasure; he knows it is. But it feels so good. Clark speaks about it like it is fine art---

'Have you seen the way Rachel looked at Ashley? The stare was so intense. I've got goosebumps, literal goosebumps.'

"The way Micheal gave the rose to Michele and said the wrong name! Such an idiot. I would never forget your name."

'He is talking to like 20 ladies. Name swaps are bound to happen.' 'Tomato potato.' 'That's not how the saying goes, Clark.' "I lived on a farm."

But what Clark enjoys when you talk to him about it. That interaction about it, a safe space for him to talk about it when sometimes you match his energy about it.

3. Dog Walks

They say "People who your dog doesn't like, don't be around them"- a very smart person (me)

But that wasn't your case. Krypto adored you, and you adored Krypto. More so than Clark, but don't tell him that. Krypto enjoyed your company and loved the dog walks with you leading him.

Clark loved you, so when he was ready, he had you met his trusted family member…

"Darling, I want to warn you beforehand. Krypto is a great boy, but he might growl a bit. So when he does that, go behind me." "Okay." with an anxious door opening, Krypto sat in front of the door wagging his tail at Clark's chosen partner walking with few steps, licking the inviting hand. And after that first contact, it was pure love and compassion.

Clark knew that Krypto was a great judge of character, but sometimes Clark felt a bit jealous.

Even now, when he cruised along Metropolis, checking if any daytime crimes were happening around the Metrolois central park. No crimes, just you and Krypto walking side by side in the park. A sight that called a smile upon his face. Lowering himself behind a tree, he wanted to see it better, even with his perfect vision. Seeing Krpyto enjoy the ball being thrown for him as he ran to catch it while you laughed and called him sweetly into your arms. Clark didn't have a big family, he had his lovable parents back in Smallville but no one else in the Metropolis. So, having you and Krypto, he thanked his lucky stars each night, knowing that having a small and meaningful family was all he needed.

Sure, he knew that Krypto loved you more than the caped superhero, but no one could blame him for that.

Clark was also crazy for you too.

4. Moving In

After deciding that you two would live together, Clark was the ever-helpful mover packing each box and happily carrying it into your shared apartment, feeling excited about the new chapter in his life.

Making a big step like this was everything Clark wanted, normal steps suited for his story. Placing down the boxes, Clark felt a sweet relief in the empty apartment that was bare and empty with only Clark, Krypto, and you.

Clark didn't care that the apartment was empty and that there was no bed but only an air mattress. All he wanted was you and him, and Krypto. He was a lovesick fool.

"What's with the grin?" "Nothing… I just love you…" "And I love you too… now the fun part begins…. Ikea furniture set up…" "oh no……"

5. First Dance

Clark was no dancer; the big guy had two left feet. He was constantly bullied and never picked for the Smallville Corn Night dance.

When moving to Metropolis, he never gave it much thought, leaving them to collect dust in his brain. So when he met you, he was a bit confused about why you were dancing in the kitchen while making pasta. Okay… it was more so hips swaying and bit of humming, but for our non-dancing boy, that was full-on dance-breaking.

"Why are you dancing in the kitchen?" "Dancing? What do- oh you mean this?" "Yes." "Well…while I wait for the pasta to cook I like to dance a little. You don't dance?" "…." "Then dance with me. I will show you."

Taking his hand, you lead Clark a bit, his steps mixing a bit as you guided him while soft Spanish music plays in the background. Feeling a bit out of his element, Clark looked into your eyes, seeing the way they sparkled and your signature smile that he loved to the ends of the universe. Feeling him move in a circle slowly and gently with you, he didn't mind as much now that he was dancing in the kitchen.

In that moment, he felt understood, not made fun off, but rather being shown something new that he can enjoy with you. Enjoy it with you.

[anothertimdrakestan]

Touch What You Love - Batboys x Reader Headcanon

I'm late to this trend but it's the one where people ask their partner to touch the parts of their body that they love. And PS, your body is perfect :)

Jason Todd

- Jason's gaze was usually trained on you, even when you were too busy starring at you phone

- But, he couldn't help but grin when your eyes finally met his

- "Jay, you wanna play a fun game?" you bit your lip as he nodded, twisting on the couch to face you "Well Gamemaster? What is it?" he replied

- You took each of his hands in yours, his palms completely covering your entire hand, his fingers brushing the inside of your wrist "I want you to touch your favorite parts of me" you whispered, looking up from your hands to meet his cloudy eyes

- "All of you" he muttered, his hands practically burning as he slid them up your forearm, curving to caress your shoulders, and slowing as his hands wrapped delicately around your neck

- "Right here especially" his voice deepened, fingers pressing pressure points that made you inhale sharply

- "Can't forget these" he smirked, dragging his middle finger across your bottom lip, applying enough pressure to push your lips apart, your shallow breaths pushing and pulling until he lowered his grasp back to your chin, tilting it upwards so your gaze met his

- "Every part of you the sunlight can touch I love, and ever part it cannot, I cherish even more," his voice was deep, but soulful, like he knew you needed to hear it with ever fibre of his being, his fingers having slid under your shirt to delicately trace up your sides

- At your loss for words, he leaned back, letting the tight, heavy air dissipate as he added "Okay now you do the same, but if it's not, you know, (he glanced down) I'm gonna be pretty damn offended." You couldn't help but laugh, heart still fluttering from his previous remark.

Tim Drake

- "Timmy, will you humor me with something?" you grinned as he spun around from his chair, getting up to plop himself next to you on his bed

- "Anything for you!" he cooed, tucking a stray piece of hair back into place.

- You smiled, "Okay, it's this TikTok trend where you ask your boyfriend to touch his favorite parts of you." you tilted your phone so Tim could watch a video of a couple, the boyfriend instantly grabbing at his partner's ass

- "Very crass Y/n, if you wanted to be held you could've asked" he yawned, but you stopped him, saying "No, like your favorite parts, what makes me special?" And you noticed his demeanor change when he realized how serious you were

- His hands immediately cupped your face, his pointer fingers tapping your temple

- "Here. Everything in here I cannot touch. Every one of your passions, the way you love people, your selflessness. I love you when you're mad, when you're anxious, and when you cannot love yourself." he whispered confidently, a slightly smile tugging at the corner of his lips

- his hands moved to hold your own, he said "I love these hands. The way they protect, hold, and cherish the things that make you happy. God, I love seeing you smile" he grinned, his right hand holding your cheek while you tugged thoughtlessly on his left hand, squirming under his gaze

- "I should say I love what's in here" he mumbled, tapping on your chest to signify your heart, "but we are both smart enough to know your true love comes from here" he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

- "Any man could take one look at your perfection and know they want you" he said, his eyes dragged up and down your figure. "I guess Im lucky you chose to let me find the perfection they cannot see" he leaned in to kiss you, your heart bursting with pride and love for your sweet boy

Damian Wayne

- "Dames, what are the odds you do another tiktok trend with me?" you put on your best puppy dog eyes as he scoffed

- "Beloved, as long as you promise it has absolutely no dancing I would be willing to attempt a simple trend-" he groaned in response before you interrupted saying "Perfect!"

- Crossing the room you were now both seated on a couch facing one another. You began "okay, the trend is you touch your favorite parts of my body."

- he starred at you beyond confused. "What constitutes favorite? The most physically pleasing or appealing? The most unique details? You must be more specific my love" to which you rolled your eyes, "I should've known you'd need an example" you giggled before cupping his cheek in your hand

- "I love your eyes Dames, to everyone else they can be so cold and piercing but when you look at me I feel like I'm home, and I swear I can feel the way you love me every time you look at me" you grinned, watching him squirm under your doting gaze and affection

- "I see the idea, and I must thank you Beloved, you know how much your kindness means to me" Damian began, reaching for your right hand, holding it with both of his

- "I have always noticed the little things. The way you fidget with your nails, or reach for me when I'm upset. I love the way you hold me, it reminds me I'm valued, needed, and your grasp reminds me I'm home." he sighed, shoulders relaxing as you threw your arms around him

- "Oh Damian Im happy to be your home, you're my home too." You beamed, lacing your fingers with his while you happily opened tiktok once again

- "I still refuse to participate in any more dances Beloved, but I quite liked this one concept" he grumbled, letting you settle into his chest as he watched you begin mindlessly scrolling through new videos "You really aren't gonna forgive me for the renegade are you?" you teased as he shook his head in response

Dick Grayson

- Dick burst through your apartment door, "Babe! Saw your tiktok, let's do this shit!" he hurried up to you while you stood frozen in shock having just sent the cute new trend less than 10 minutes ago

- "Um, the touching one? Right now?" you laughed slightly, still confused at his excited tone

- "Uhhh yeah? You're crazy if you think I'm passing up an opportunity to feel up the love of my life!" he cooed. "Spin, let me decide where my first place trophy is headed" he winked, swirling his pointer finger to encourage your spin

- "Dick, it's been 10 minutes. I'm not spinning again." You said exasperated as Dick's eyes bore into you.

- "You don't get it sweetheart! How do I select my all time MVP body part when everywhere I look is perfection! On my way over, I was like 'ass for sure' but then I got here and noticed your lips and goddamn they're prime for kissing. But then I thought about how I'm totally a thigh guy, or should I stick to my roots and choose your eyes, they were the first thing I noticed after all and I-" he rambled before you cut him off "okay, you win, you can tie all of it but at least come kiss me" you groaned

- with a triumphant grin he swept you into his embrace, pecking your lips before pressing a kiss on each cheek, continuing down your neck, to your chest, where he paused "new game. I touch every part I love, over, and over again. If you know what I mean" he winked, carrying you bridal style towards your bedroom while you laughed uncontrollably at his tickling kisses

- "Don't you have anywhere better to be Richard! I was about to make dinner!" you teased, fully enjoying his affection

- "I'm about to be between your legs, and I firmly believe there is no place on earth I would rather be darling"

~ hope you enjoyed! i read all comments/reblogs!~