#and then they reveal they got married for the tax break

[calicomarie11]

So I know we all assume Buck and Eddie have keys to each other’s houses, but we are sleeping on all the other things they have keys to.

I want someone to realize that Buck just has a key to Eddie’s truck and Eddie has a key to the Jeep.

They share a storage unit, because it’s cheaper that way.

There’s a safety deposit box at the bank with both of their important docs (cough, Eddie’s will, cough).

They share a note file with all the passwords for their streaming services and Chris’s school apps.

Just, sometimes I think we don’t make them codependent enough.

[exielimon]

My inspiration comes to me in the worse moments, did I write this instead of sleeping how I should have been doing? absolutely.

Enjoy some bunnies, this is-

Do not interrupt ravioli

(914 words ahead)

“Finally, some time for ourselves” Legend shut the door of his room with a sigh, Ravio had his own room but Legend had been away too long and there was no way he wasn’t going to spend as much time with his husband as possible, if a bit secretly.

So Legend crossed the room and sat on the bed, Ravio was immediately beside him, rubbing his shoulder in a side-hug and pressing feather kisses to the side of Legend’s face.

Legend let out a heavy sigh as he melted into it, finally surrendering to the affection after a couple of hours of holding back in front of his brothers, in his living room. And after even longer of being away from home.

He was just glad Ravio didn’t take offense when Legend didn’t show much affection besides hugging him as a greeting and sitting beside him, understanding his embarrassment and not pushing it. “I’ve missed you” he murmured, eyes closed.

“I’ve missed you too, so dearly” the clad in purple whispered behind his ear, low but not without that dramatic accent Legend secretly found nothing but endearing.

Ravio kissed the tip of Legend’s pointed ear before using his hand on his husband’s cheek to turn his face and press their lips together. Legend sighed at the contact and didn’t hesitate to return the kiss with all the love, warmth and excitement he’d saved for his husband for months now.

Now the thing is: Legend had missed his dear husband, and… well, they were married, a bit of desire was expected. And alright, it wasn’t like he wanted to take him now, not with the chain just downstairs but he still wasn’t going to be satisfied with just a side kiss, not if they were alone in a room.

Legend snaked an arm around Ravio’s waist and without pulling their lips apart, hoisted him up so he was sitting on his lap, knees digging in the mattress at each side of legend’s thighs. Ravio responded by wrapping his arms around Legend, fingers digging into soft, pink-streaked hair.

“Let yourself relax, my hero. I’ve got you” Ravio whispered again, pulling away just enough to say it. Legend surrendered into his husband’s comforting embrace as the other pushed him lightly to fall backwards on the bed, now Ravio was above him and he couldn’t be more happy.

Legend’s hands were on Ravio’s hips as their lips danced together, tongues digging into each other. Legend was happy, his lover was with him and he was safe and between his arms and his family was in his house with him, Legend let himself relax and feed into the passion in the kiss.

Of course, someone had to interrupt.

The door swung open, revealing an uncertain Wind, looking at something outside the room in the direction of the stairs. “Hey Ledge,“ Ravio flinched up, pulling away but not rising, snapping his wide-eyed gaze to the direction of the interruption before Wind turned and took in the situation mid-word “do you th- oh-“

Legend was honestly more annoyed than embarrassed, he sighed “is Sheerow eating window sealer?��� He sent an annoyed glare at the sailor.

“N-no? but can Wi-“

“Then don’t bother me” Legend cut Wind off, reaching up to pull Ravio by the collar down to press their lips again, Legend repeating the other’s earlier move by wrapping his arms around Ravio and comb his fingers through the dark hair, to which Ravio surrendered easily.

“A-alright, Wild will make dinner in your kitchen then” Wind rushed his words and closed the door as soon as they were out of his mouth. Wind sighed outside the door and scoffed “tax purposes my ass” he rolled his eyes and walked downstairs with a smile, happy that Legend had found love.

Legend, the moment the door was closed, wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again, but he also didn’t want to break the already weak moment.

He pushed up and off the bed, standing but not breaking apart in a stubborn act. He made Ravio walk backwards and gently pressed his husband’s back to the door, one hand to his waist and the other hand reaching out to the knob to put the lock on.

Ravio chuckled against his lips as Legend’s hand returned to caress Ravio’s cheek and keep kissing for a few more minutes.

And now just the final touch; being comfortable.

Legend crouched a little settling his chest to the level of Ravio’s waist, hugging him close and hoisting him up to carry him back to bed and settle beside him to keep the kiss, his husband giggling through it all.

After a while they had stopped and settled on just cuddling in bed, Legend clinging to his husband tightly and Ravio welcoming him into his chest, between his arms, calmly silent, just basking in each other’s presence.

“I love you, you know”

“I know. I love you too, you know?”

“I know.”

Was murmured into each other.

There was a knock at the door followed by Wind’s voice again— good at least he had learned to knock— “Dinner’s ready, come down if- if you’re hungry.” The uncertain, muffled voice called, before steps sounded down the hall and the pair knew they were left alone to decide.

“C’mon, you have to try Wild’s cooking, it’s amazing”

“ooh~ do you think he’ll share a recipe or two?”

They came downstairs with their hands intertwined, lips swollen and hair messed up.

(thx for reading!)

[cure-orchid]

I’ve still got some strong hyperfixation going on for one of my newest fandoms ‘The Ghost and Molly McGee’ (which I will eternally regert not watching sooner) and wanted to share some of my headcanons I’ve come up with over the last four months.

* There are a few months between ‘Jinx vs the Human World’ and ‘The End’, enough for a third season to take place. Most of the leaked scripts occur with a few exceptions: They do not find the ‘Williams’ lunchbox, by extension ‘Scratch from the Past’ doesn’t occur, Dead and Breakfast was revealed to be getting cut before the cancellation so it also doesn’t happen. And ‘Forever Home’ occurs after ‘The End’ (more below)

* I already posted my headcanon conclusion for the Chairman Ollie arc. I was going to post more on that but I’ve decided to wait (more at the bottom of this post)

* Molly is remaining positive for Scratch’s sake after he leaves. She is sad and talks about it with the others when she can…

* Then ‘Forever Home’ occurs (with Geoff in Scratch’s place) a month after Todd leaves. Patty dying and not becoming a ghost hits even harder since the loss of Scratch is still fresh. Molly allows herself to grieve in front of the others but her positivity is noticeably shaken for a week or two after. A movie hits too close to home during date night with Ollie and Molly finally breaks down and fully opens up about her sadness and fear of losing people and being alone. Ollie is the second person she’s ever opened up to about this, Scratch was the first. After that she is truly able to start healing.

* Todd visits Brighton a year later. One scheme and a hug from Molly later and his memories from his time as a wraith return! He remembers Molly first but slowly the rest come back to him.

* After remembering everyone and having a true reunion. One of the things Scratch does on his last day in town is have a one on one talk with Ollie. Scratch figures he’d understand how he feels best since they both suffered memory loss for a time and both care deeply about Molly. Ollie tells him how hard it really was on Molly and how they’ve all been looking out for her.

* Molly and Scratch keep in touch, and Adia is let in on the truth about Todd and ghosts. They have yearly visits to Brighton.

* Scratch and Adia do get married, which may or may not be motivated by tax benefits, and have a quick ceremony at a courthouse. Best Man Geoff brings wraith Molly through a portal so she can be there as their flower girl, she’s already making the joy flowers anyway.

* Molly and Libby go to college in Brighton, while Ollie goes to college in Perfektborg. Being long distance besties with Scratch has prepared Molly for a long distance boyfriend so she’s not freaking out as bad as she would have at 13. They meet every other weekend and video chat frequently.

* Mollie get married once they finish college. Scratch and Adia take an extra trip to attend and the former is the best man. Libby and Andrea are the maids of honor. Libby realizes that with what Molly is planning, Andrea will find out about ghosts one way or another. They break the news early and introduce her to Geoff and Jeff, she’s freaked out but it gives context to some early events.

* Scratch and Adia die in a hang-gliding accident when Molly is in her early 20’s. They don’t reunite right away but Molly figures, and gets Geoff to spill, that Scratch is waiting to make a grand entrance at the funeral. He and Adia scare everyone not in the know at said funeral when they emerge from their graves. Molly and Ollie present the ghost couple with a large dollhouse and they move in with them.

* The girls future’s are pretty obvious, Molly becomes mayor of Brighton, Libby writes novels, June is a scientist, and Andrea marries Alina and her vision board becomes a reality. As for the boys, Ollie becomes a therapist with patients living and dead. Darryl is part of some government task force, that is all he is able to divulge.

* Mollie have their first daughter a few years later, Piper Chen-McGee. She inherits the swoopy hair and living with ghosts her whole life gives her a hyperfixation on the paranormal. From the moment they met and she grabbed his snoot, Scratch has been a doting uncle to her and the two are really close.

* Five years after comes Joy Chen-McGee. I haven’t thought too much about what she would be like but for sure she continues the legacy of enhappifying/engoodifying, enhappigoodifying if you will.

* Once they die, Ollie becomes the chairman for good. He has a white robe made for Molly, it doesn’t have any special powers but she’s already got her unique joy energy.

So I was already planning on writing a Ghost Friends one shot, I was going to save it for Halloween but I’ve decided to move it up and release it in around a month.

In addition, I’ve got two other fics that will be released after; one will be an anthology fic focusing on Ollie, exploring his character, his interactions with different characters, and going through his chairman arc! The other will be Molly and Scratch reuniting, because these two are family and it’s cruel to keep them apart.

I’m not sure how long it’ll take to churn these out, but the Ollie fic should start in June once I finish the Ghost Friends oneshot.

[tayfabe75]

Hi. Not sure if this was answered before. Sorry if it was! I am not really sold on the Tayfabe idea. Do you not think that the risks are enormous when Tayfabe comes to light. For Taylor she is already so rich it does not matter. But the band are not in the same tax bracket so to speak. Would the fans completely be alienated? Also how do you see a reveal or will there not really be one but just breakups on both sides and the tour being over and Matty and Taylor quietly spend a while together they announce they are together maybe even married?

Regardless of whether or not kayfabe is happening, I believe Taylor is going to take a bit of a break from music (since it is rumored she has some upcoming film and possibly television projects on the horizon), so the band might be on a break soon anyway. Though admittedly, I'm not sure how all of that works between tours as-is.

And, if kayfabe happens to be correct and is eventually revealed, it will be entirely by their own hands and they will not make themselves look bad doing it. Deception would not be the motivation for kayfabe, but would be a byproduct of it. The real motive is to protect each other's privacy and mental health.

When they first tried to date publicly, it ended with a well-documented breakdown for Matty. From then on, we got several interviews where Matty describes, sometimes in detail, why he couldn't be Taylor's boyfriend. And a few weeks after their alleged 2014 breakup, Taylor says this in an interview:

"You always kind of have that person, that one person who you feel like might interrupt your wedding, and be like, 'don't do it, 'cause we're not over yet'. I think everybody has that one person who kind of floats in and out of their life and the narrative is never truly over."

And wouldn't you know it? In 2023, all of the fears Matty had once expressed about dating Taylor manifested before our eyes. Remember, I believe Matty got cancelled on purpose - so he walked right into the fire knowing what awaited him, because he helped start that fire via Adam Friedland. And, he may or may not be working with Nick Mullen on a project called 'Canceled'… so, that's my guess for an eventual reveal.

But who knows! Again, it's a rather unconventional theory, so I don't expect many people to entertain it lol Lastly, a kayfabe reveal could have very positive rippling effects, perhaps getting people to investigate the other ways it is utilized, like in American politics.

[artzychic27]

Jean x Austin Beauty and The Beast AU

Once Upon a Time… There was a happy young Prince living a blessed life… Until he became friends with three total assholes who pretty much helped to ruin his reputation with the kingdom

They got him to raise taxes, punish his people for the dumbest reasons, and turn away those in need of the most help

One night, the Prince hosted a ball where he only invited the most influential and richest people

The ball was going well… Until a beggar woman came knocking at the door. The asshole princes turned the woman away and insulted her to no end, and even goaded the Prince into doing the same

Fed up with the four of them, the beggar woman threw off her cloak, revealing her to be a beautiful enchantress. The asshole princes tried to apologize, but she was having none of it. The enchantress pulled out her wand and conjured up a spell… Only for the asshole princes to use the kind prince as a human shield and have only him suffer from the enchantress’ curse, turning him into a beast who wreaked havoc around the ballroom, attacking everyone on sight

… So down in the village…

There’s Jean, an eccentric young man who doesn’t give two fucks about gender and wears dresses whenever he feels like it

His father, Dejah, is a local playwright and Jean is often cast in his plays. Not out of favoritism, he’s a great singer and actor

But quite a few people don’t see it that way and feel nothing but jealousy towards Jean. And it doesn’t help that he’s stunningly attractive, either while they’re just… Eh.

Oh, and Jean’s not really looking for romance right now, but there’s just this one guy who won’t quit… Let’s call him Anar Cissique (See what I did there?) Also, Anar’s got a henchman named Santiaco Lyte

Anar even tried to trick Jean into marrying him, but our favorite thespian is way smarter than some narcissistic pretty boy and leaves him face-planted in the mud

One evening, Dejah is going out of town to attend a convention. He asks Jean if they’d like anything for when he returns, and all they want is a rose. (Sweet kid, huh?) So, Dejah leaves, only to get lost in the dark forest while riding horseback, then his own horse just abandons him

So, before it can rain, Dejah seeks shelter in a lavish but terrifying castle hidden no one in the village has ever noticed before. You’d think one would notice or remember a big-ass castle, right? Well, I guess not

Dejah goes in and is only greeted by a couple of disembodied voices coming from the many, many shadows. They show him his room, but that’s not what he’s interested in. He’s just checking out the creepy room with a glowing red rose just sitting right in the middle. And who’s going to miss a single rose?

Before he can even touch a single petal, a massive hand grabs his wrist, and Dejah finds himself being dragged into a dungeon where another disembodied voice, much gruffer than the last ones, tells him he will stay there for eternity

It’s been three days and Jean still hasn’t heard back from their dad. They’re about to make a report to the police when Dejah’s horse runs over to them. Jean rides the horse into the woods Dejah was going through, gets lost, abandoned by his horse, and finds themself at the castle

They go in, remaining unaware of the whispering coming from the shadows, and eventually find Dejah in the dungeon

Dejah warns him to leave, but Jean’s not abandoning his only family. Before he can get the door open, he's stopped by the owner of the castle

Brief argument until Jean boldly offers to take his father’s place and asks his captor to step into the light, revealing a 6’5 beast with dark brown fur, large horns atop its head, and sharp fangs. The beast dragged Dejah out of the castle and sent him on his way

Stunned by what just happened, Jean allows the beast to drag him up to his lavish bedroom where he finally breaks down crying

After a few more minutes of crying, Jean meets the castle staff… But they’re all spirits of the castle

Reshma’s skin shines like diamonds, Marc leaves behind a trail of ink and can make his origami come to life, Cosette’s appearance is constantly changing based on their mood, Ismael can disappear and reappear in a puff of smoke and step through walls, Denise’s hair looks like a galaxy and stars dot their skin, Simon has guitar strings in his arm he’ll often pluck, Mireille always has a storm cloud over her head, Aurore has a sunny cloud, Lacey is constantly floating, and Zoé’s heels change height depending on her mood

Jean quickly befriends them as they sympathize with his current situation

After a less-than-wonderful encounter with the beast, they invite him to a spectacular dinner complete with music and amazing choreography

Afterward, Jean wanders into the forbidden west wing and finds the enchanted rose given to the Beast by the enchantress

Before he can touch it, the Beast shows up and scares him into the woods where he is ambushed by a pack of wolves, but the Beast rescues him, injuring himself in the process

As Jean nurses his wounds, the two work their way up to being acquaintances, and he even learns his name, Austin

Back in the village, Dejah fails to convince the other villagers of the Beast, his castle, and Jean's imprisonment.

Anar, seeing rescuing Jean as an opportunity to win their hand in marriage, accuses Dejah of being insane and convinces the villagers to send him to an insane asylum. (Damn, a lot of people in this story are assholes, huh?)

Meanwhile at the castle, Austin and Jean grow closer as the days go by and end up sleeping in the same bed are never seen without the other next to them. The spirits finally manage to convince Austin to tell Jean his feelings for him while the rose still has a few petals left

After sharing a romantic dance with Jean, Austin is about to profess his feelings to him, but then Jean confesses how much he misses his father

So, because he's a sweetheart, Austin gives Jean a magic mirror so Jean can see Dejah's situation

Austin releases him to save Dejah, giving him the mirror to remember him with. And the spirits are just: Bro! Come on!

Back in the village, Jean reveals Austin in the mirror much to the shock of the townsfolk, proving Dejah's sanity... But, makes Anar jealous when he realizes Jean is in love with Austin

So, he claims Jean was charmed by dark magic and has him thrown into the asylum carriage with Dejah. He rallies the villagers to follow him to the castle to slay the Beast before he "curses" the whole village

So, there Jean and Dejah are, locked in the carriage... Until Ismael teleports himself and Mireille to the village so Mireille can strike the lock with lightning, freeing Jean and Dejah

During the battle, the spirits (Along with Santiaco who was abandoned by Anar) fend off against the villagers while Anar hunts down Austin

He tracks down Austin to his tower, where he's too depressed to fight. But then Jean's back! yay! And he starts fighting Anar. Just when he's about to kill him, Austin spares the bastard because he's a good guy... Then Anar shoots him right before falling to his death because karma

Austin dies just as the last rose petal falls, and the servants are now bound to the castle forever- So sad

As Jean tearfully professes his love to Austin, the curse is undone, reviving Austin, and restoring him and his servants to their human forms. Oh, and the villagers remember there was a castle and a royal family

Austin and Jean get married, and all is well, The End

[uf200singleproject]

The Impact of the Stigma: Societal

Progress for any social or political movement will naturally fluctuate, and that is certainly true of the single positivity movement. Between “spinsters” coming into the public eye as an undesirable group and the efforts of women like Susan B. Anthony, there was resistance and advocacy. Between the definition of the “New Woman” and the release of Disney’s Brave, there was resistance and advocacy.

We have seen positive change, but there is still resistance on the ground, and single women continue to experience it on scales from societal to internal.

In Lisa Lynn Hancock’s dissertation “How Women Experience and Respond to Singlism: Stereotyping and Discrimination of Singles,” for unmarried individuals, there are tangible repercussions to being single, as supported by a range of literature on the subject: “discrimination has been demonstrated to manifest in inequities in pay, housing rights in the military, promotions at work, subsidized employee benefits, Social Security benefits, estate taxes, capital gains taxes, insurance, housing, in vitro fertilization, adoption, family care leave, travel packages and experiences, club memberships, and even expectations for longer work hours.”1

As long of a list as this is, it wasn’t at all difficult to visualize how each category is impacted for those unmarried. Many of these programs were set up with the nuclear family in mind, and the societal expectations that come with marriage and parenthood have room to bleed through in spaces that weren’t.

And Hancock’s research didn’t end there—as of 2005, “researchers were still finding participants more likely to describe singles as lonely, shy, unhappy, insecure, and inflexible.”2 And as of 2013, “Narrative research revealed that single women were generally perceived as less happy, having fewer social skills, being less successful, being flawed, and having less life satisfaction than married women.”3

While a decade has passed, when it comes to a cultural mindset, I think it would be overly optimistic to believe that these perceptions have fizzled out so quickly. I wanted to hear firsthand what it was like to be on the other end of these assumptions over time, so I reached out to a family friend for an interview. Michelle is in her late 40s and unmarried, though she had been engaged in the past. No matter what question I asked, the most prominent topic in our conversation turned out to be religion, and for good reason. We were both raised Christian, and I was unsurprised to find that she one of the primary struggles she encountered—both in getting engaged and breaking it off—was religious pressure to marry from both her family and community.

In the West, I can imagine that this brand of religious pressure and traditional obligation is common for single women to experience. But Michelle and I agree that certain perspectives surrounding gender roles along our religious lines have noticeably lightened over time. She told me that in her community, around the time she got engaged, “people started to figure out that women could help out without a husband, and that women could preach, and that nothing had caught on fire since they started, so it would be fine.” It's a great thing to see this kind of change in real time, but Michelle made sure to tell me that even as certain people grow and change, "when something is taught for so long, there's plenty of judgement left over." That line was especially impactful to me because, though I'm not sure she meant it this way, that leftover judgement can often come from yourself. 1. Hancock, Lisa Lynn. How Women Experience and Respond to Singlism: Stereotyping and Discrimination of Singles. Walden University, 2017, p. 8. scholarworks.waldenu.edu/dissertations/3994/.

2-3. Hancock, Lisa Lynn. How Women Experience and Respond to Singlism: Stereotyping and Discrimination of Singles. Walden University, 2017, p. 33. scholarworks.waldenu.edu/dissertations/3994/.

[oonajaeadira]

I’ll Never Fall In Love Again: Scene 5: You May Now Kiss the Bride

Fandom: The Bubble

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader 

Warnings: none. A little rusty wordcraft after some time away.

A/N: This one’s a bit longer, stuffed with a bunch of half memories and a swirl of rushed, weighty moments. I could have split this one in two but didn’t really want to. It should be a whirlwind, and for that, I do not apologize.

The intimacy coordinator doesn’t seem to know that you and Dieter were–are–married. Not interested. No assumptions. Two actors, professional agenda, plain as that. She’s just here to do her job, and there will be no nonsense, there are boundaries, there must be consent.

“Twice, Gerard,” she chides from under her austere, German haircut, opting for Dieter’s character name, not bothering to use his real one. “No more. It is once, twice, break. Noses to the right, no tongue.”

“How about teeth?” He is trying so so hard to keep the twinkle out of his eye and the IC glares him down. He returns a self-defacing grin, meant to charm, to be submissive. “I don’t think he would invade her mouth, but I don’t think he wants to let her go, either. I mean, look at her.”

Now it’s your turn to glare.

“Justine,” she barks at you, similarly foregoing your actual name, and you jump. “You consent to this?”

“Suuuuuuure.”

“Fine. We add that in. Please add it to the notes.” She doesn’t even look over at her assistant, just places the order and moves in to point to areas on your body. “Hands can go here, here, here, and here. That is your canvas. Do not paint outside the lines. Now kiss.”

It’s hard enough to naturally execute a staged kiss with a stern woman ordering you into it. Let alone in a rehearsal room full of PAs and pop lights. Let alone with Dieter fucking Bravo and all the baggage that entails, both bitter and sweet.

But still. You’ve shared staged intimacy with him before. And muscle memory kicks in. His huge hands cupping your jaw should make your shoulders want to jump in reflexive defense. Instead, your body remembers–this posture, this gesture, this warm breath on your face, these eyes yearning after your lips–and instantly melts into its safety. 

You almost forgot how his mustache tickles. 

You almost forgot how he grips, his fingers fighting against his desperation, trying so hard not to bruise.

But the gentle pull of his teeth at your bottom lip, that’s new. 

For him. That was always your move.

He’s gone back to the sandalwood shampoo. That’s nice. You almost forget where you are--

“Ach. No. Clumsy. Remember your light. Your nose gets in the way, Gerard. Try again.”

You hope the step back from your scene partner isn’t too fast. 

Or too slow.

________

“I got a little over-zealous.” Dieter shuffled through the french doors of a large-ish bedroom, the walls covered in a riot of figures, studies in the shape of Dali’s slender women, half finished, heads like bouquets, door knobs, something slightly penile– “Was gonna repaint it, but thought you might wanna pick your own color. Home it up however you want.” The ice clinked in his whiskey glass as he spun toward the floor-to-ceiling blinds to push them open, revealing a nice little balcony looking up over Dixie Valley toward the scrubby hills. He tilted his head back for a second to let his sunglasses shield him from the sun that poured through, an annoyed hiss sucking through his teeth betraying a possible hangover. “Got a new mattress coming. You don’t wanna sleep on the one that was here.”

A shameless grin as he winked a red eye over his Ray Bans at you.

Morgan was right. His house was large enough. No mansion, for sure, but a sizeable place for two people; it’s far too big for one. Must have picked it for the tax write-off. You’d certainly have enough privacy.

His bedroom was on another floor–four in all, built into the hillside–and two different living room lounge areas on separate floors. You could go days without seeing each other without much effort.

“Are you sure you want me to paint over them?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I haven’t been back in here since the acid trip that birthed these. Just like, 36 hours of fucking around and a shit ton of macaroni balls.”

He painted all of this, in all this detail, in a day? And what the hell is a macaroni ball?

“Well, then, if you really don’t mind, I guess I might get someone in here this week to get it done. I’d like to get out of my condo lease before another month comes due…”

He choked slightly on a sip of whiskey and cut the air with a splayed hand.“Wait. You’re giving up your lease?”

“Well…yeah. It doesn’t make sense to pay for something I’m not living in. I mean–”

“Don’t do that. I got it.”

You blinked. “What do you mean, ‘you’ve got it’?”

“I can cover your rent. You shouldn’t…give up your own place.”

“Oh.” An awkward silence. “I…thought I was going to live here, satisfy the requirements, keep up appearances–”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” the ice clinked again as he swung his free hand forward to find your shoulder, not sure if it was to steady himself or you. “You’re welcome to make it your home. Really. Go fucking bonkers. I just thought you’d want to keep a space that was yours. To retreat to.”

Twisting to look out through the bedroom doors into the wide open second floor living room lounge and then back again, you cocked an eyebrow. “I think I have more room here, D.”

“I mean, a space that doesn’t have,” he gestured sloppily around his head and then out toward the walls, “my aura saturating it. Like, a space that doesn’t have my ass smeared all over it.”

He didn’t laugh with you, but allowed the time to let yours pass. “I don’t mind that as long as you don’t mind me rubbing my…aura ass or…ass aura all over your house.”

That, though, yanked a half-smile out of him. “Not at all. Your ass aura is a welcome addition.”

“Good.” Dieter was a big weirdo, but his heart was in the right place. This was going to be more pleasant than you’d anticipated. A warm little breeze ruffled the curtains as you whispered a humble thanks.

“Cool. Great. Hey, mmm–” downing his whiskey and walking out of the room to the tv area of the lounge, “you wanna smoke and watch some porn?”

Ah yes. That aforementioned “aura.”

“Um, no? But…I wouldn’t mind getting high and watching Xanadu….”

That won you an eager, unchecked grin.

“Amazing.”

_________________

It started off one night by asking him to help you navigate the complicated system of streaming services and on-demand channels he had set up through an expensive all-in-one portal. He found the movie you were jonesing for and you ended up on the lounge couch with his feet in your lap while you both ugly wept over the ending of Wit.

After that, the next few weeks was an almost every-other-nightly ritual of him wandering down to the lounge, asking sheepishly if he could join you, and then a combo of one of you sprawled on the couch, the other on the floor or being lap support for feet, one of you stoned (usually him), stuffing your face with popcorn, late nights chewing over cinema history (or Dieter’s Hollywood conquest history) and player’s choice for passing out there or in your own beds.

Dieter ended up being the roommate you always wanted, one that made you realize how quiet and lonely your single-bedroom apartment had really been. Sure, he stumbled into your area more often than he’d promised, but he was always welcome. Sure, he left a wake of spilled wine and soggy popcorn and kitkat wrappers and greasy pizza boxes on the coffee table, but he also was on good terms with his cleaning lady who was able to somehow leave the place immaculate every morning, even if he was sprawled out snoring atop the mess. In and out before you woke, you had a suspicion that she was some kind of magical house brownie with eternal patience and goodwill. Every evening you shuffled off to your room leaving Dieter in a pile of bathrobe and paraphernalia, you wondered if you should drop her an offering of cookies and milk. Or, like, a crisp $100 bill.

He spent a weekend here or there off somewhere for a photo shoot or pickups for the movie he shot right before Fall of Timon that was set to come out during awards season…Hunger…something? Strike? Yes. Hunger Strike. And you, you navigated your way through a few meetings with an immigration agent and set about filling out some preliminary paperwork. Morgan helped, mostly by pulling some industry strings to pull your life sentence with Dieter down from the requisite three years.

A week to the day before the wedding, you realized how unreal it all seemed. Shouldn’t you be stressed? Planning? What were you forgetting? Everything was being taken off your plate by a high-profile wedding planner you never actually saw, so it was actually a routine day when Uri Malani’s assistant showed up at the house with a rack of a half dozen dresses out of which to choose from the designer’s upcoming line.

Weddings for actors are never the stressful affairs that they are for many people. Actors spend much of their professional lives in the spotlight, they have a plethora of opening nights on stage or wardrobed awards nights or show up twenty feet high on a big silver screen. A wedding is just another day on stage. Nothing has to be perfect because they’ve learned that anything can be improvised and still be amazing.

So the tailor session for your wedding dress was much like an at-home costume fitting; this was, after all, quite literally, just one more role to play. Except that the dress was worth $8000 and sponsored by Malani’s design house. It wouldn’t be yours to keep, but then, what would you do with a dress you’d never wear again….

….a dress that was really only a costume…for a fake-ish wedding….that you agreed to in order to further your career...not like it was for love or anything...not like it was...

“Hey. You okay?”

Dieter had come home while you were stood on top of a tailor’s box in the downstairs living room, a beautiful white silk creation cascading over your shoulders and piling in gleaming yardage around your feet. He’d taken up a seat on the far end of the room, knocked over something decorative on an end table when he propped up his feet to better support his sketch pad, using you as his personal model. “Like a fucking Venus in her seashell,” he mumbled, assessing all the white fabric.

The tailor had run out to his car to find a packet of buttons for this particular dress, leaving you to stare at yourself in the traveling full-length mirror.

Pretty. Simple. Innocent maybe. The perfect little sweetheart to tame the Hollywood beast. The reflection had replaced you with a …bride. And some deep crypt in your heart opened up. And some errant thought you once thought was dead came ambling out, attacking when you least expected it. 

There in the mirror was a bride who was you and you were a bride and that bride was sobbing and beyond it should have been a Dieter kicked back in an armchair but instead there was a sketch pad laying ruffled and bent on the floor where it was dropped and your friend striding across the room wide-eyed and fingers twitching and looking about as scared as you felt–

“Hey. Hey Babycakes. Hey. What the fuck is happening here.” Suddenly he was before you, his hands wandering through the air around your elbows, stuck in two gears at once, oscillating between wanting to clutch and yet keeping a forced, respectful bubble; a man that wasn’t practiced in the art of comfort and knew it.

“I just,” you put up your hands, trying to calm him in return, a signal that he need not be so worried. “I just…I don’t know…sorry. This is all just happening so fast and it shouldn’t be a big deal but…”

Oh.

You hadn’t thought of that until exactly that moment.

“I just realized that I won’t just ever have a wedding. The wedding, you know? That…my husband–my future husband–will never just be my husband. He’ll never just be the most special person in my life…like, he’ll always be my second husband as far as everyone’s concerned. And that wedding’s gonna have to either just be simple and take a back seat to this one or it’s going to have to be bigger and better in every way and I won’t be able to enjoy it…maybe…I don’t know….”

“Hey.” 

You didn’t even realize you were shaking until his hand folded around yours to find it a still, warm place to be. And when you looked up to the mirror again, there was a bride, puffy-faced, standing aloft on her short pedestal in an artsy Sherman Oaks living room above her slovenly groom in a stretched-out t-shirt whose thumb was worrying her knuckles and who was gazing up at her in a heartfelt study of concern and fear.

“Cakes. We don’t have to do this.”

His voice had the same effect as turning the heat down on a simmering pot and you felt your heart returning to manageable speed as you squeezed his fingers in your own.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It just hit me hard and fast. I’ll get over it. I mean, it’s just a dream, right? There’s no saying I’ll even marry anyone else. I’m so picky and focused on my career so…” But when you met his eyes, you saw that his pot was still threatening to simmer over. “Really. It’s okay, D. Just promise me we’ll have fun, okay?”

Letting go of the breath he’d been holding, his face settled into a slovenly, relaxed smile, relieved to have an assignment. “Yeah. I can promise that.” His eyes shot wide. “Oh shit. Vows. We have to do that shit don’t we.”

You laughed, lifted his hand to kiss his thumb as the tailor came back into the room. “Yeah, we do. Just don’t promise anything you can’t deliver, Bravo.”

“You wouldn’t believe what I can deliver, missus.”

________________

Nobody could ever say Dieter Bravo wasn’t an amazing actor.

“Listen. I may have got my ass kicked off a few sets when I was just starting out, but I can say that I’ve never broken a contract. I sign my name onto something? I commit.”

A perfectly sunny day. A beautiful ocean-view trellis. A veil made of silk orchids spilling over your hair. Your parents watching from the front row, flown in specially for the day. 

Dieter didn’t believe in holding hands during the vows. But apparently he did believe in hugging you tightly against him and very openly weeping. “I can’t believe you said yes to me. Babe. You’re just…you’re the perfect wife for me. You came into my life and it’s been fun, you know? I promise you, we’re gonna have fun.”

It was sweet, really. You knew he wasn’t only putting on a good show, living up to the weirdness that people expected from his eccentric, chaotic persona, but it was also evident that he was actually allowing himself to feel this, to give into the fantasy of being a husband for someone he cared about. 

And, of course, you knew he was doing this for you. Living these vows in real time. Because the harder you giggled against him in front of the ocean and everyone you loved, overcome by the ridiculousness of it all, the harder he sobbed, his voice all but cutting out completely, just an absolute mess.

He stumbled forward a little, stepping on your toes, but it hardly mattered. To match his white groomswear–a beautiful white jacket and vest over black trousers–he’d opted for white crocs. That way, he said, he wouldn’t hurt you when he fumbled the first dance. And you were actually touched that he’d festooned them with the jibbitz you’d bought him that day at the Farmer’s Market. It made you grin like an idiot on your march down the aisle. And if you ever got nervous enough to drop your gaze, there they were, a reminder that this was all just too silly, that you were both in on your own private joke.

As much as he’d assured you that you didn’t have to adopt this crazy scheme, it surprised you that Dieter actually took it as seriously as he did. Not the fake marriage thing, but the whole…formal wedding part. You knew him well enough. This was not his style. If Bravo was going to seriously marry anyone it would probably include nudity and psychotropics. 

But at least he was making sure you were both having a good time at everyone else’s expense. As long as he wasn’t high. That’s all you asked of him on the day. Just for him to be coherent enough so you wouldn’t be left alone in all of this. And you were relatively sure he was going to keep his word on that.

“You’re so talented smart and and pretty and I’m fucking lucky I met you. You like all the same pizza toppings I do and I’m so happy you’re the last person I see before I fall asleep. I know what I’ve got. I’m not giving this up. I’m gonna take care of you,” he pulled his expression together into a mask of fearful determination. “And I’m gonna be who you need me to be.”

Damn, he was Sell. Ing. It.

Your eyebrows shot up as he went in for an early kiss, smashing his lips into yours, his fingers digging into your back, the combination of his vows’ forceful sincerity and the desperate eagerness of the kiss sending you both stumbling.

After that, it was a balancing act between your mouth and your heart, one of them delivering the vows you’d prepared–the promises to treat him gently and be a good partner, some quote by Emily Dickinson about the wildness of the sea and the beating of your heart–while the other worked to quiet all the fire alarms that his words had set off in you.

It was just a show. Just another show, that’s all. You would let the emotions guide your actions in a truthful way, but in the end, the curtain always comes down and you get to take your bows and dump your flowers in your dressing room and then go out and get a drink.

“And I promise you, Dieter Bravo, that you will enjoy every damn moment of having me around.”

And he laughed through his watery eyes and you kissed him back, giving his bottom lip a good-natured nip as you let him go, the wedding guests exploding in applause as the officiant made the final declaration and nobody but you heard Dieter when he whispered, “Yes ma’am.”

Now that? That was a five-star performance.

________________

Most of the reception was spent apart from one another. You both quickly realized that whenever you stood in one place together, silver and glass rang out, demanding satisfaction and wouldn’t stop its incessant din until your lips met. You planned for one or two kisses during the ceremony, probably one after the dreaded first dance, but you’d both forgotten about the abhorrent clinking tradition. And it wouldn’t do to look like you were avoiding it.

Dieter wasn’t the best kisser–kissing probably not being his focus when he was intimate with people–but he was warm and gentle in a way you hadn’t expected, his lips were big and soft and his nose got in the way. It got easier and more natural every time, but it was still a struggle to make sure it looked as if every one was your thousandth, and not your third.

By the time he was swaying against you, his lips finding your temple during the first dance, he had nailed the role. “How are you holding up, missus?”

“It’s going fine. My parents are happy.  They liked your last film and I told them about how nice you were to me during Timon. I mean, they also think you’re a bit of a clown with a flat ass, but they’ll come around.”

“Bold of them to assume. The jacket covers my ass. Mostly.”

“YouTube. The Venice Beach incident. The reason I’m here, remember?”

“Well, shit.” His cheek pressed into your forehead, seeking support.

And you lent it, winding your arms further around him, urging him to lean in. A subtle shift in his sway, a slowing, a softening as you rubbed comfort into his back. “How are you doing?”

“Fucking exhausted.”

“Those crocs letting you down?”

“I meant emotionally. This is a lot of work. Even a union day’s only ten hours long.”

“Just think how well you’ll sleep tonight.”

“Shit. That reminds me,” he sighed, exasperated. “Planner booked us the suite here. The bed’s a California king, but I’ll take the couch if you want.”

“Should be fine. Do you snore in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

“Do you fart in your sleep?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

And, like thousands of newlyweds before you, you chuckled softly into each others’ shoulders, your wedding guests most likely imagining a much different conversation.

The last verse of the first dance began–a cover of an old love tune neither of you had chosen but everyone had immediately started sighing over–and you let words go, simply fueling each other through the last big duet of the performance.

Your head fell naturally to his shoulder, and his chin held you there as you both just rode out the time.

The sun was setting. The fairy lights taking over.

His shoulder….ample, supportive.

Sandalwood….

And the last verse of the first dance ended–a long final note that both of you allowed to resonate between you as everyone applauded in adoration–and you stepped back to find each other’s eyes, then, according to the script, each other’s lips…

…but then neither of you let go.

In fact, both of you held on just a little harder.

There was a flash, a moment where the spell was working on you, that maybe you wanted it to be real. A flicker of heat and the need to be consumed by him. As your body received the kiss that was meant to satisfy expectations but was fulfilling other surprising deficiencies, its chemicals fired to match the action, and as his fingers twisted the silk of your dress, they wrung a tiny whine from you–

–signaling an end to the effect as he broke away.

Or so you thought.

But then…his eyes…his pupils blown wide, his dark eyes darker with–

“Dieter, are you–”

“Hey, do you wanna have–”

“--are you…high?”

You could almost feel the ramp of his heart as you caught him in the headlights. Those wide pupils darting back and forth between your own. A moment gone on too long that you took for guilt over misbehavior but would later recognize as fear of rejection.

Until he deployed his defense mechanism and let the dumbest, sloppiest smile slide across his face to serve as both an admission and an apology. And you growled through a gritted smile.

“Really, dude? At our staged wedding? My family’s here!”

He laughed and gave you a squeeze, nearly lifting you off the ground. “Told you. Fun. D’you wanna hit?”

“No, you fucking dork. Just…don’t let my parents find out. They’re really weird about that stuff and you already have a track record.”

It was half chiding and half resigned amusement. The man was a disaster and everyone loved him in spite of it, you were no exception. He was zero good judgment and a fine example of a charming but hapless mess. But you knew he was good for his word, knew he wouldn’t embarrass you. And that was–you reminded yourself lovingly towards him–about the best you could expect out of Dieter Bravo.

________

“Roll. Action.”

It’s the mark of a good director, scheduling an intimacy shoot on the first day, especially if you need your actors to have a newness, an electricity, that little spark of desperation and awkwardness that makes the chemistry bubble.

But that certainty changes when the actors have history.

It’s the mark of a genius director to take two actors with history and throw them opposite each other when the characters themselves are fighting against their own past.

“I still love you, Justine.”

“I very much doubt that.”

“It’s true.”

“Yeah?” You hit your mark, tilt your chin at him in challenge. “Prove it.”

In his everyday persona, Dieter is an agent of chaos and an absolute menace. But to his credit, he takes his job seriously, a consummate professional. His hands go here, here, and here, and they avoid there, there, and there, just as the intimacy coordinator instructed. He kisses once, twice. No more.

He’s added a few subtle ingredients–a press of foreheads, a shared breath, a thumb across your cheekbone. And a hum of satisfaction.

But he forgot the nibble. It’s not necessary, and he originally added it just to dig at you. 

And of course he knew that something deep in you would notice--and secretly resent--the omission.

The little shit.

The IC  isn’t on set for filming.

Fuck it.

You put your hands there. You kiss him a third time. You give him a little nip.

And he smiles into the kiss. And does not let go.

A whistle comes from the DP.  “Good take. Let’s do another for safety.”

Annie’s voice floats in contentedly from the darkness in the direction of the run monitor. “Let’s do a few. Dieter, don’t hold back. He needs to show her how he really feels. This is his one chance to make her love him again.”

There’s no will in you to pull away from him so fast, this time content to stay in your light while the shift is reset. But you manage to give him a look, a half-hearted reprimand–

Dieter….

He counters with a cocked eyebrow.

Hey. Fun, remember?

And Dieter, still holding on, never having looked away, calls back to the director, “Can do.” 

______

______

NEXT

SERIES MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[hiccanna-tidbits]

WHAT UP @ohlooksheswriting HAVE AN INDIRECT CONTRIBUTION TO HICCUNZEL MONTH

SO I think my main reservation about shipping romantic Hiccunzel has always been the fact that I stan Hiccanna and Jackunzel so hard, like. I simply cannot look at Rapunzel x Hiccup and NOT go “but what of Jack and Anna??? Are they now fated to not find true love??? They’re gonna be so sad D:”

So the obvious solution all along was to have Hiccup and Rapunzel date Anna, Jack, AND each other, EZ

And HiJack and Annunzel are pretty solid gay ships, so like??? It kinda WORKS???

And thus the RotBTD discord came up with Hijannunzel, which might well be the most blursed ship in existence XD Legit poly ships are too powerful. Once you start shipping them, it’s like “oh, this solves SO many problems??? And also if they all got married and got a tax break they’d be OP as hell??? And having a 3-way support system of awesome people to kiss and cuddle and hang out with would be SICK???”

ANYWAYS! I decided to style this so that I put a thing I think each pair would bond over between their pictures because I think it’d be neat!!!

Rapunzel & Hiccup: Art!!! He sketches, she paints, and they definitely draw each other and nerd out over different art styles together!!! Catch them on an art museum date any day. They’ve also definitely made art of each other, and the rest of the polycule. Rapunzel & Jack: Outdoorsy winter fun!!! Like Rapunzel is literally ALWAYS down for a gigantic, Extra snowball fight and you can’t change my mind. Punz just really likes being outside (I mean, she was locked inside for years, can you blame her???) and appreciates all the seasons, but like...overappreciates winter because she figures it could use the love XD Anna & Jack: Sweets!!! I am 1000% convinced both these kids are sugar junkies. Anna has a preference for chocolate obviously, but Jack will devour anything with a sugar content Tooth would absolutely not approve of. They also both adore hot cocoa, and you can’t change my mind. Anna & Hiccup: Dragons/animals in general!!! Anna’s such an animal whisperer in Frozen 1, like. She gets three ducklings to jump into her hands, befriends Hans’ horse, vents to her own horse, and sees a guy talking to his reindeer like a buddy and just immediately starts doing the same thing. Ain’t no one convincing me Anna wouldn’t think dragons were the coolest shit ever, and she would try to (perhaps unwisely) befriend every single one.

Couldn’t include in this one, BUT ALSO:

Jack & Hiccup: Flying and thrill-seeking!!! Like they both seem to be hardcore adrenaline junkies, if Jack letting the wind blow him around every which way and Hiccup literally inventing a funky winged device so he can fly with Toothless is anything to go by. These two would really love flying and exploring together! The adventures AND the poor decisions would be unparalleled XD Rapunzel & Anna: Flower appreciation!!! They both dun got big springtime vibes, and would probably be constantly picking wildflower bouquets for each other. I feel like they’d get into gardening, and try to befriend all the pollinator bugs--even the scary ones XD Love that they both have floral motifs, and Anna’s is a sunflower while Rapunzel’s is...a literal sun flower XD Also love the idea of them bonding over girly stuff in general, and doing things like dress-shopping and meadow-frolicking together :D

Anyways, they all share an apartment and have movie and video game nights where they all get into a cuddle pile on the couch and it’s wholesome and fantastic. They also like to crash fancy parties paired off and then stage dramatic “reveals” where they get caught cheating on each other and make a whole production out of it, solely to be chaotic. Also to snack on fancy little cheese blocks on toothpicks and crostini. Have a great rest of your night.

Pic credits available upon request!

[johnnysnostril]

nct 127 as royals [18+]

♔ kingdoms + empires ♖

this has got to be one of my favorite scenarios so far. ive put together a little something for the people who are obsessed with the royal + medieval times. let me know which kingdom or empire you’re in! enjoy, xoxo 

empire of

❅ ELPIDA ❅

colors: yellow + gold

moto: “be delicate like a flower, hopeful like an angel.”

your position: the page ☾❀|❀☽

cares for the royal clothing

assist with dressing the royals

pick out ball gowns and attire for royal dances/weddings

emperor taeyong’s trustee: <<doyoung>>

shields you from witnessing illegal matters

protects you from unexpected dangers

accompanies you to royal fittings

his secret: you are his mistress. he comes to you whenever he’s feeling vulnerable and weak. you’ve been sleeping with the emperor for a few months now and you’re starting to fall in love with him. you want to admit your feelings to him but you know that he’ll never leave the empress just for a page.

sexual desire: <<blindfolding/handcuffing>>

look at you- tied up and blinded. now, i can explore your body without interruptions.

empire of

✤ IRIS ✤

colors: emerald green + white

moto: “listen to the gods- they will never lead you wrong.”

your position: the physician ☤

in charge of the royals health

partake in surgical procedures

assist in healing the wounded knights

emperor taeil’s trustee: <<taeyong>>

supplies you with out of country medicine

shows you how to make potions

provides you with illegal knives to perform difficult surgeries

his secret: emperor taeil is planning on poisoning the empress. with your help, along with his trustee- he is ending his arranged marriage, that he never wanted to be apart of. with her gullible attitude, the empress believes you are no harm. little does she know, that you are the one who will witness her last breath.

sexual desire: <<submission>>

tell daddy how much you love it when he makes you feel helpless.

empire of

ᕯ IPHIOS ᕯ

colors: cream + brown

moto: “show no mercy, show no fear.”

your position: the squire ⚘

apprentice to the knights

witnesses training for battles

eyes and ears of the empire

emperor johnny’s trustee: <<jaehyun>>

teaches you secret death pressure points

reveals all hidden secrets of the knights

shows you secret passage ways through the castle

his secret: he’s cheating on the empress with a queen from another kingdom. somehow, you ended up being his second mistress- landing the position of the squire, by promising to protect his secret from the knights- who are ordered to kill the queen mistress per the empress. although the empress has knowledge of emperor johnny cheating on her, she had no idea about you. and you and emperor johnny will keep it that way.

sexual desire: <<master/slave>>

you follow directions so well, don’t you? master will have his way with you and you’ll behave- like a good little slave, won’t you?

kingdom of

❈ THPHIC ❈

colors: peach + silver

moto: “all that is gold, shall be silver.”

your position: the watchman ✇

watches over the castle

report suspicious behavior

create safety tactics

king yuta’s trustee: <<jungwoo>>

supplies you with foreign bombs

helps you plan stakeouts

provides you with secret information about other kingdoms

his secret: his mother was a servant to his royal father. his blood is not complete royalty. you and jungwoo are the only ones who know his secret- the two of you protect it with your lives. every now and then, you and king yuta will sleep together- as a thank you for keeping his secret.

sexual desire: <<public sex>>

and while everyone is watching, you’d be screaming my name- begging me for more.

kingdom of

✵CHARMOLIPIL ✵

colors: black + burgundy

moto: “never let them see your weak side- show them what they will fear.”

your position: the messenger ∺

relays messages from the king to other kingdoms

witness court trials

bring threatening news to the knights attention

king doyoung’s trustee: <<taeil>>

provides you with weapons that you aren’t licensed to have

helps you falsify information to threaten other kingdoms

supplies you with poison potions

his secret: you witnessed him kill his father so he could take over the kingdom. king doyoung has demanded you be the messenger, running to other kingdoms to let them know that the king is finally dead. he uses you as his secret weapon- having secret late night meeting with you, informing you of your weekly work. as these meeting progress through the months, you start to slowly fall in love with him- letting him know that you’ll do anything to keep his secret and to cover him. the king is slowly catching feelings for you but won’t show his true feelings just yet.

sexual desire: <<threesomes>>

the both of you look so wonderful on your knees. now, please me.

empire of

✾ HALARA ✾

colors: royal blue + plum

moto: “wait for the perfect time, then attack.”

your position: the treasurer ∞

in charge of tax collecting

tracking debit with other empires

monitors the state of the empire

emperor jaehyun’s trustee: <<mark>>

helps you hide stolen money

forges numbers for the books

providing transportation and housing for your escape

his secret: you and emperor jaehyun have been stealing money from the empire. the two of you have convinced the empress that there is a traitor among the castle. emperor jaehyun has planned the escape for the both of you- leaving the empire behind for the empress, as he has fallen deeply in love with you. 

sexual desire: <<erotic spanking/servant play>>

ah- you’ve disobeyed me again, servant. bend over, you know what time it is.

kingdom of

�� CHRYSEOS ❂

colors: red + violet

moto: “stay gold, always.”

your position: the marshal 〶

ensures that the kingdoms laws are enforced

responsible for securing the kingdoms boarders

organizes patrol and responds to threats

king jungwoo’s trustee: <<haechan>>

protects your illegal work regarding protection of the king

assists you with hiring hitmen for the ones who threaten the king

provides you with handguns/weapons for the knights

his secret: you and king jungwoo have been legally married in another country, for five years. the queen has no idea that she is technically a mistress. you plan to hire a hitman to take out the queen, robbing her of her jewls and kidnap the king- to live your life in your home country; where no one knows of your work with the king. 

sexual desire: <<roleplay>>

you look exquisite in royal clothing, my dear. what would be even more delicious, is you bent over the queens royal chair.

empire of

✥ MERAKI ✥

colors: gold + black

moto: “take everything, forgive no one and leave no trace.”

your position: the spymaster ⌖

observes the empires criminal elements

spies on other kingdoms+empires

uses collected information to protect the king

emperor mark’s trustee: <<yuta>>

supplies you with illegal torture devices

provides you with secret maps to other kingdoms+empires to break into their castles

helps you protect the king

his secret: you are his long lost love. as he was promised to another female at birth, he fell in love with you as a young man. you were brought into the castle by his father who was the emperor, as an orphan child of a passing village. before the emperor’s passing, you promised to watch after the castle and his reigning son. every now and then, you and emperor mark find yourselves in deep love with each other, but you can’t bring yourself to destroy the lee empire with your own desire.

sexual desire: <<face sitting>>

you’d look even more beautiful, straddling my face. i bet that you wouldn’t be able to ride my tongue without making a sound. 

kingdom of

۞ AGAPI ۞

colors: baby blue + gray

moto: “everything in the world is about sex, except sex. sex is about power.”

your role in the castle: the steward ❦

in charge of daily management and supplies needs for the castle and the king

responsible for financial and legal matters concerning the castles estates

represents the king in court, while he is away

king haechan’s trustee: <<johnny>>

covers up your mistakes

protects you from unwanted information being released

prints money illegally and uses it to help you pay for supplies

his secret: king haechan is planning to have the queen assassinated so you can fill her role once she is gone. johnny is the only person who knows that you and the king are sleeping together. although king haechan doesn’t know just yet, you are pregnant with his son-

sexual desire: <<domination and rough sex>>

no one will be able to hear you cry out in this dungeon, my love. but, i do think you need something to occupy that throat of yours.

[wutheringmights]

For ctb's birthday, can I ask how did Lincoln's romance with his spouse happened? (If you're not going to answer this in story though)

Because I cannot write the Lincoln/Ganondorf slow burn romance that they deserve, I have been dying for someone to ask me more about them

So here's a quick summary of how it took 15 years for these two to get married:

Lincoln Harkinian is 17 years old and already the Master Knight of the Knights of Hyrule

Things have been rough since a) being the youngest of the knights makes it hard for anyone to acknowledge his leadership and b) his abusive father had disparaged Lincoln’s name before his death two years back

So things aren’t looking too hot

But they are looking better because now there’s a civil war looming on the horizon

Apparently the Gerudo are using tax hikes on imported goods as an excuse to break off from Hyrule

Being a war hero would boost Lincoln’s credibility immediately, so he should just go off and fight in the war, right?

Wrong

Lincoln pays attention and realizes that the Gerudo representatives are doing their best to deescalate while the Hylian are increasing their threats

SomethingIsWrong.png

So he starts sticking his nose in all the wrong places

He decides he needs to find out everything from the Gerudo’s perspective

So he needs an audience with the Gerudo Chief

Naturally, Lincoln is denied an audience

Which rings alarms in his head because the Gerudo Chief might be notoriously reclusive but Lincoln is obviously trying to help

(Lincoln has always had a bad case of Resting Bitch Face, so don’t blame the Gerudo guards for thinking that this scary looking Hylian kid who is literally the head of the Knights of Hyrule wasn’t serious about trying to find peace)

Lincoln, internally: Guess I’ll just have to sneak in and force the Gerudo Chief to talk to me

Imagine Lincoln sneaking into the palace under disguise, turning the corner and seeing this tall voe reading in the courtyard, surrounded by flowers

20 year old Ganondorf, who has never met anyone who wasn’t Gerudo or even a man before: WHAT THE FUCK

Lincoln, realizing he's the first Hylain to see a Gerudo voe in 100 years: WHAT THE FUCK

And that's how Lincoln got locked up in prison for a few days

And that's the first time they met

Now you have to understand Ganondorf’s perspective because, sure. This crazy teenager just broke into his home and seen him, so he should be put to death before this whole potential civil war scenario gets worst. But Ganondorf is curious, and he wants to know more about the world outside the Gerudo Fortress. So he goes down to the palace’s prison to talk

He and Lincoln talk and sure enough, the Gerudo are being framed by some members of the Hylian court

Lincoln also has this moment where he’s chained to the wall, a little bruised and beaten, and he sees this handsome man on the other side of the cell who is intelligent, charismatic, and goodhearted; and he thinks: oh

Lincoln is released on the condition that he stops the war and keeps Ganondorf’s secret

He goes back and forth between Hyrule and Gerudo Town for months as he tries to stop the civil war from happening, consulting with Ganondorf until, finally, Lincoln has enough proof to reveal the plot and stop the civil war

During this time, Ganondorf and Lincoln talk a lot not only about politics but about themselves, and Lincoln falls deeper and deeper for Ganondorf

Meanwhile Ganondorf is just happy that he’s made another friend :)

Finally, the war averted and it is time for them to part ways forever, with Lincoln promising to keep Ganondorf's secret while Ganondorf resumed his lonely existence

They are both giving what is supposed to be their final goodbyes when neither of them can take it any longer

Lincoln, who even in youth is a man of unfaltering conviction: “I love you. Let’s get married.”

Ganondorf, who didn’t see this coming at all: “Uhhhhh I’m already engaged?? I was literally about to suggest we stay friends and invite you to my wedding??”

Lincoln, ready to die for embarrassment: “Ok cool I’ll be there but please forget everything I just said.”

Ganondorf: “Can we still be friends?”

Lincoln, about to cry: “Sure.”

Ganondorf’s marriage was arranged, with his wife supposed to act like his face in all public matters so that he can continue being chief without letting the secret of his existence slip

That is to say that the wedding is super small, but Lincoln goes and he spends the entire time happy for his friend but a little heart broken

But Lincoln likes to think he’s a good guy, so if Ganondorf isn’t interested in him, then it’s his duty to move on and cause no further problems that can ruin their friendship

For the next ten years, Ganondorf rules the Gerudo from the shadows while Lincoln runs the Knights of Hyrule, earning respect as time goes on

But Lincoln makes sure he still visits Ganondorf as much as he can, bringing back stories of the outside world and the people he meets

Lincoln is even good friends with Ganondorf’s wife and is considered an uncle figure to their three girls: Elham, Amal, and Juri.

During this time, Lincoln is trying his damnest to get over Ganondorf without cutting off the friendship, but none of his relationships stick

Honestly he wouldn't be trying so hard to have a relationship at all if people weren't constantly bugging him about settling down for happiness (Gaudin) or continueing the Harkinian line (Jakucho)

It’s during this time that he meets Warriors’s mom, Marigold, and has a one night stand with her. When he finds out she’s pregnant, he tries to make things right by proposing but is rejected

A few years later, he starts a relationship with Linkle’s mom, only to realize a month in that she was already married. He dumped her then, unaware that she was pregnant.

All of his other relationships fail because he honestly doesn’t feel for anyone else the way he does Ganondorf. And he might be able to get over him if they had agreed to part ways for good, but the fact of the matter was that Lincoln was not going to abandon Ganondorf, so every time he thinks he's about to get over Ganondorf, he stops by Geurdo Town for another visit and falls all over again

Ten years later, Ganondorf’s wife can’t take being a public figure that is as stuck to the palace as Ganondorf is anymore and asks for a divorce. Ganondorf agrees because, yeah. His life sucks and no one should be stuck living it if they don’t have to.

Lincoln supports Ganondorf during and after the divorce, not daring to hope that this might mean Ganondorf might reciprocate his feelings

He starts to visit more and spend longer amounts of time at the palace to keep Ganondorf company in his newfound bachelor life

Twenty-seven year old Lincoln, constant inner monologue: we’re just friends we’re just friends we’re just friends we’re just friends we’re just friends we’re just friends we’re just friends

Thirty year old Ganondorf, watching Lincoln relaxing in the courtyard, closing his eyes to rest for the first time in days: I’m so glad my friend is always here to support me no matter what. He actually looks really good right now with the sunlight in his hair…

Ganondorf:

Ganondorf:

Ganondorf: Ah.

Ganondorf thinks that Lincoln has gotten over him years ago, so he’s not about to come barging in and messing things up between them. So he’s content to just continue being Lincoln’s friend

And Lincoln is dying more than ever because his longtime crush is now single again but he refuses to do anything about it because Ganondorf has already turned him down once and he’s not going to trouble him by bringing it up again

So they stay in this limbo for years

Five years, to be exact

Badia, Ganondorf's one other friend is dying. She does not like Lincoln but at this point, she can't stand watching Ganondorf pine for so long, especially when paired with Lincoln's pining

Finally, there is quiet night when Lincoln is visiting. They are both in Ganondorf's study. Ganondorf is playing the piano, absorbed in the music until he turns to look at Lincoln and sees that he has pulled up a chair next to him, and he is resting against the chair arm as he dozes off in sleep. And Ganondorf decides in that moment that he cannot imagine his life without Lincoln in it

Ganondorf, gentling brushing Lincoln's hair out of his face: "Lincoln?"

Lincoln, barely stirring: "Hm?"

"Let's get married."

"Ok."

"..."

Lincoln, suddenly awake: "WHAT!"

And they finally talked about their feelings and got married a week later

And they've been married for ten years

So your biggest takeaways should be this:

Lincoln and Ganondorf got married and were already an old married couple

They actually bicker a lot, but they still agree about the fundamentals

Lincoln is actually the super romantic one and proudly tells everyone that fell in love with Ganondorf at first sight

Then he bitterly adds that Ganondorf then made him wait for 15 years

Ganondorf is the more chill one and is the one who keeps Lincoln in check

Because Lincoln has his moments of frustration where he has to cause problems on purpose

Ganondorf is also the one with the brains, which is saying something because Lincoln is also very smart

He's also the charming one while Lincoln has never figured out how facial expressions work

But Ganondorf is also the only one who can decipher what Lincoln is trying to say beneath his hard expressions and super blunt means of talking

Lincoln is not a great communicator. Ganondorf understands him anyway. Ganondorf doesn’t even need to say something for Lincoln to know what he’s thinking. They are super in sync. If you cross either of them, you’re in trouble.

Lincoln always makes Ganondorf’s tea. Ganondorf always plays the piano for Lincoln. They like the quiet life together

[hrtiu]

Writing prompt idea- Bobannec marriage with the mandalorian vows? Maybe it’s a sincere but spur-of-the-moment thing between the two of them. I love your writing for this pairing! :)

Sorry it takes me so long to get to these prompts! I am still working through them, though, I promise! This one is great, thanks so much for the prompt <3

The heat on Tatooine was dry, but every once in a while the temperatures soared so high that the air was still heavy and sultry with it. On just one such day, Boba Fett rested in Fennec’s basement study at the palace, his back slouched in a wicker chair and his feet propped up against the edge of Fennec’s desk. He could be in his own study, of course, but the basement was always coolest on days like this, when even old Jabba’s powerful refrigeration system struggled to cool the ancient palace.

Fennec poured over a stack of flimsi and several datapads, her eyes flitting across each page for only a few seconds before moving on. Boba left most administrative work to Dr. Pershing—his brilliant mind was perfectly suited to paying bills and sorting the junk mail from what deserved Boba’s attention—but Fennec took on some of the more complicated business matters personally. She was a genius with a ledger, bringing Boba’s empire comfortably into the black less than two years after they’d started working together.

“Are you free next Tuesday?” Fennec asked, not bothering to look up from her datapad.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Keep it free. We’re going to Mos Eisley.”

The corner of Boba’s mouth turned down in distaste. “For what?”

“I’m making an appointment at the courthouse to get married. The tax benefits are ludicrous.”

Boba froze, his back arched midway through a stretch. Marriage. To Fennec? Taxes?

“I didn’t think we were the tax-paying type,” he said once he’d recovered enough to find his voice.

Fennec set her datapad down and looked over at Boba, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Only amateurs don’t pay their taxes at all. You have to give them something to throw them off your scent.”

“You want to get married to get a break on our fake taxes? On taxes that only represent a fraction of what we should be paying?”

Fennec narrowed her eyes at him. “And you have a problem with that? How do you think we got such a healthy surplus?”

Boba got to his feet and reached for his helmet. This was not a conversation he wanted his expression visible for. “We can afford it. Just pay the damn taxes.”

He started for the door, but the cold tone of Fennec’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What is your problem?” she asked. “It’s just a legal status.”

He turned on her. “It’s not just a legal status. Not to me.”

Her eyes flashed. “We’re already practically married. What are you not ok with? Do you want me to move out?”

“No!”

“Do you want to stop sharing finances? Do you want me to sleep with other people? Do you want to sleep with someone else?”

“No!” Boba, more forcefully than he meant to. Then he noticed the flicker of doubt glinting in Fennec’s eyes. Funny, he didn’t think he’d ever seen something like that in her expression before. “No…” he repeated, softer this time. “Of course not.”

“Then… what’s the problem?” Her voice had gone quiet—almost delicate, though Boba would never admit to even thinking of her that way.

“I don’t want to get married in the same place that spice addicts get sentenced, that’s all,” he said. “Even if it’s just for taxes.”

Fennec slumped back in her chair with a sigh, and Boba’s body relaxed. They’d fought enough over the years for him to recognize a ceasefire when he saw one.

“Fine. We don’t have to go to the courthouse,” she said.

“Good.” He stepped out of the office and closed the door softly behind him. As he walked up the stairs out of the basement, he stubbornly ignored the knot forming in his stomach. He’d won the argument, so why did he keep feeling like he’d lost?

---

Boba barely saw Fennec over the course of the next three days. She’d always been somewhat elusive, disappearing for a few days at a time when she needed space, but this was the longest she’d been gone in years. It was the longest she’d been gone since they’d started sharing a bed.

Boba told himself he was fine with it. She was like an itinerant tooka, coming and going as she pleased. He knew he needed to be patient and let her come to him.

On the third day after their argument Boba walked into the master suite and immediately knew she was back. The signs were everywhere, subtle but unmistakable. The pile of shoes Boba had left by the door had been straightened, the lamp in the corner that Fennec liked to read under was lit, the closet doors—which Boba never bothered with—were shut. Afraid to spook her, Boba stepped cautiously further into the suite.

“...Fen?”

“In here,” her voice called from their room.

He followed the sound into their room, where Fennec tossed him his favorite blaster before he had time to register the sight in front of him.

“You have your armor on? Good,” she said.

Boba clutched at the blaster automatically, but his eyes stayed glued on Fennec. She was wearing a jet black gown that swept to the floor in elegant, draping fabric. The top twisted and criss crossed over her collarbone, tying behind her neck and revealing her shoulders. Her toned arms were hard with muscle but somehow her curves still showed through, her hips smooth and inviting and her skin begging to be touched.

“Fen… What’s this?” Boba managed to get out.

She picked up her sniper rifle from the bed and slung it over her shoulder, the thick leather strap at odds with her gazy dress but somehow still at home on her body. “You said you didn’t want to get married in a courthouse. So I did some research.”

“Research?” Boba was struggling to follow her, his mind both pleased and utterly bewildered by this turn of events.

“Yes.” She stepped towards him, sniper rifle still slung over her shoulder, and took one of his hands in hers. “I thought we could get married the Mandalorian way.”

“Oh…” This couldn’t be real, could it? Boba wondered in a daze. Did Fennec really know him so well? Could she see so far into his soul as to understand what he wanted before he even knew it himself?

That shadow of doubt passed across Fennec’s expression once more, and her grip on Boba’s hand tightened just the smallest amount. “Unless that’s not what you want,” she said.

That rare, precious show of vulnerability shook Boba from his daze, and his fingers squeezed Fennec’s back. He locked eyes with her and swallowed thickly, unexpectedly nervous.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he said.

The corner of her mouth turned up and she responded, “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

And just like that, they were husband and wife.

Boba dropped his blaster to the floor and surged forward, pulling Fennec into a fierce kiss. She returned in kind, her lips moving against his in a way that was achingly familiar yet just as thrilling as the day they’d first kissed. He broke away long enough to push her onto their bed, then he was back on her, his tongue dragging a hot line up her neck.

She squirmed under him, then pushed him away so she could remove the sniper rifle from her back. Once her weapon was out of the way she snaked her hands around the back of his neck and drew him back down to her, her eyes dark and shining with an intensity only she held.

“What’s with the blaster and rifle, anyway?” Boba asked between breathless kisses.

She chuckled into his ear, her voice throaty and irresistible. “I don’t know, it just seemed more… Mandalorian.”

He snorted in response, though he couldn’t deny she was right. His wife was always right.

His wife. What a thought. Boba’s hand crept further and further up her thigh—his wife’s thigh—and he felt himself getting lost in her. With a jerk of her hips, Fennec rolled him onto his back and all he could do was stare up in wonder at her beautiful, lethal face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her braid hung over her shoulder, messy and nearly undone. She was the most flawless woman in the whole galaxy, and she was his. She was perfect, and he was hers.

She leaned down to him, and Boba lost his breath. “You know we’re still going to the courthouse next week, right?” she said, her voice husky and commanding.

Boba chuckled and drew her closer to him. “Damn taxes…”

[wishuhadstayed]

Plus One

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Word count: 3000ish

Summary: it’s baby time y’all!

Warnings: pregnancy complications, angst

Author’s Note: to those who have been waiting, I AM SO SORRY. I hope this will be worth it! Part 8? to Begin Again. Please feel free to yell at me in the comments if you feel so inclined.

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Conversation flowed in the dining room and kitchen of the Hotchner residence as the BAU team and family impatiently anticipated the forthcoming announcement.

“It’s a boy, has to be,” Morgan mused.

“No way. Definitely a girl,” JJ contradicts.

“As much as it pains me to say, I think I have to go with Morgan on this one,” Emily admits.

“Garcia?” JJ inquires, “What do you think?”

“I have to agree with Chocolate Thunder on this one, love,”

“Are you all taking his side?” JJ asks with indignation. “I’ll bet you $50 that it’s a girl!”

“Oh you’re on, sweetheart,” Morgan complies with a winning smile.

“I don’t know if it’s a girl or a boy,” says Reid, “but I do know that I wouldn’t bet against JJ.”

“Thanks, Spence,” JJ replies, patting him on the shoulder. “Emily, Rossi? You wanna get in on the action?”

“Oh I am so staying out of this,” Prentiss responds. “Count me out.”

“I’m in with Morgan for $50,” Rossi states.

“Alright, but you’re all gonna be sorry,” JJ says with a smirk.

Overhearing the lively discussion, you enter the room.

“Children, what’s going on here?” You interject, “Don’t make me break up a fight.”

“Y/N! Just the lady I wanted to see!” Exclaims JJ. “May I?” She asks, gesturing towards your growing baby bump.

“Sure, go ahead,” you reply. “Do I even want to know?”

“We’re taking bets on the sex of the baby,” she replies placing a gentle hand on your belly. “And I am so totally going to win!”

“You can’t possibly know that, JJ,” Morgan interrupts.

“Call me crazy if you want,” says JJ, “but a mother knows.”

“I suppose you’ll all find out soon enough,” Aaron cuts in, placing a strong arm around your back and pressing his lips to yours for a quick, tender kiss. “Shall we?”

With that, everyone makes their way to the backyard, where a large golden balloon awaits.

Picking it up from the ground, Aaron asks, “Everybody ready?”

He didn’t really have to ask. The answer was unanimous.

“YES!”

“Jack, would you like to do the honors?” you inquire, holding out a safety pin for him.

“Can I?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course you can buddy. Just be careful, okay?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Dad and I will count you in, okay? On three.”

Together, you and Aaron slowly count, “One, two, THREE!”

A loud pop from the balloon momentarily startles the crowd and then..... a cloud of pink confetti floats to the ground.

“YES!” JJ shouts in her excitement. “PAY UP, LOSERS! We got a baby shower to plan!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several weeks later found you strolling through the back door of Rossi’s home into the yard where you’d married the man of your dreams not so very long ago.

This time it’s decorated for a slightly different occasion. Pale pink lanterns and streamers adorn everything in sight. A picnic table covered with a pink flowered cloth looks like it might collapse at any moment beneath the weight of a mountain of gifts wrapped in pastel paper. Heart shaped balloons are tied to the corners of another table on top of which is a giant bowl of pink punch, more food than you thought possible, and a breathtaking cake, decorated with tiny pink roses.

A tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality and you turn to see three beautiful, smiling faces. Women that you consider to be not only friends, but family at this point.

“Penny, Emily, JJ,” you say as your eyes begin to well up with tears, “This is too much! You shouldn’t have gone to this much trouble.”

“Oh this is the least we could have done for you, doll face,” Garcia interjects. “Nothing but the finest for my very best friend.”

“Don’t worry about it, my clean sweep at the gender reveal paid for most of this,” JJ jokes.

“You look absolutely radiant,” Emily adds, pulling you in for a hug.

“Where’s the boss man?” Penelope asks. “He’s coming isn’t he?”

“Oh yes” you reply. “He was helping Jack out of the car. He told me to come on in. He’s probably inside hanging out with boys for a minute.”

At that moment, you feel a pair of familiar arms encircling you, one across your chest and one just underneath your baby bump. A soft kiss on the cheek and he turns you around to face him. The tender look in his usually stern eyes melts you as he smiles and says,

“There’s my girls.”

“I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you too, darling.”

“Alright love birds, it’s time to get this show on the road!” exclaims Morgan, coming through the door with both Henry and Jack in tow.

“Thanks for keeping the kids entertained, Derek,” you whisper. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Mama. I’ve got it all under control,” he reassures with a wink.

“Should we be worried?” Aaron jokes under his breath.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Garcia offers, trailing off behind them.

Rossi and Reid bring up the tail end of the group, along with Jessica, Jack’s aunt, who had been previously supervising the kids.

“How are the parents-to-be feeling?” Rossi inquires.

“Overwhelmed, and so grateful,” you reply. “I know JJ said she covered most of it with her winnings, but I think we all know you pitched in too. And you’re a fantastic sport for letting the girls decorate your whole house pink.”

“Anything for some of my favorite people,” he replies patting you both on the shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Reid chimes in. “This baby’s really lucky to have such loving parents.”

“Reid, stop. You’re gonna make me cry,” you squeak out, pulling a tissue from your purse.

Just then, Jessica wraps an arm around both of you.

“Jess, you know you didn’t have to come,” Aaron says.

“Nonsense!” comes her reply. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

As you go to sit so you can open presents, Morgan pulls out the chair for you, then pulls one out for Garcia as they settle in to watch the kids.

Maybe you were mistaken, but you could have sworn you saw a flirty look pass between them. A mischievous grin crosses your face. Perhaps you should do a bit of your own matchmaking.

“Jack!” you call. “Don’t you wanna help Mama open some of her presents?”

“Yeah! Can Henry help too?”

“What do you think JJ?” you ask.

“As long as it’s okay with you,” she agrees.

The kids ran up to help with their very important present duty. Jack retrieving smaller presents and helping rip the paper. Henry mostly just playing with the shiny bows. Thus leaving Morgan and Garcia free of responsibility.

When the last present had been opened, and the last game played, Aaron made his speech.

“Y/N and I just wanted to thank you all so much for being here today. We love each and every one of you like family, and we are truly grateful for all your love and support. We are truly blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives. Thank you again.”

As everyone was leaving, Penelope pulled you to the side.

“Did you call the kids over for help specifically to leave Derek and I alone together?”

“Penny, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” came your reply. “I’m just getting too big to be bending over to grab the presents and I thought it would be fun for the kids.”

“If you say so,” she says with a skeptical look.

As she walks away, Aaron whispers in your ear, “You are so wrong for that, you know?” with a playful shove of your shoulder.

“Oh they’re perfect for each other and everyone knows it. Besides, she played matchmaker for us and look what happened,” you reply, rubbing your belly.

“Okay, okay!” he surrenders with a grin. “You’re right. You’re always right. You win.”

——————————————————————————

As the weeks crept by, your little family was not so patiently awaiting the arrival of its newest addition. Being pregnant and taking care of a 6 year old without your husband was extremely taxing, making the moments that you did have with him exceedingly special.

Moments like today. It was nothing exciting, just sitting on the couch, enjoying each other’s company, but sometimes that’s all you really need.

Seated across from each other, You can’t help but admire the sweet look on his face as he touches your belly.

“I still can’t believe we’re having a baby girl,” he mentions.

“Neither can I,” you agree. “She’s gonna be smart,” you state, resting your hand on top of Aaron’s. “A lawyer like her daddy.”

“She can be anything she wants,” he says, looking up with his smile revealing the stunning dimples that caught your eye on your very first date. “As long as she’s happy.”

“God I love you, Aaron.”

“I love you more, angel.”

But mom duty never stops.

“Oh!” you exclaim. “It’s almost time to pick up Jack from school and I haven’t even started dinner!”

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” Aaron says. “I’ll take care of everything, you just relax.”

“But I,”

“Ssshhhhh,” he interrupts. “No buts. I will pick up Jack, I will get dinner. You deserve a break.”

“Alright, if you insist.”

“I do.”

He leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours.

“I’ll be back soon.”

What felt like an eternity later, you hear the front door open and two distinct sets of footsteps.

“Mama!” Jack yelled, scrambling up into your lap for a hug. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, buddy,” you reassure, pulling him close to your chest.

“What’s for dinner, honey?” you ask?

A playful smirk forms on Aaron’s face, raising your suspicions.

“You’ll see. In the meantime, Jack how would you like to watch a movie with me and mom?”

You all settle on the sofa, Jack in Aaron’s lap and your head on your husband’s left shoulder. Just as you were drifting off to sleep near the end of the movie, a knock at the door startles you awake.

“Dinner’s here!” Aaron announces. “Come on buddy,” he encourages Jack. “Help me out.”

As you reach the table where the food is being laid out, tears begin to spring to your eyes.

“I got you fries and chocolate shake. And a cheeseburger. No mayo, extra pickles.”

“Babe,” you squeak out, “you remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. It’s all you talked about while I was away on my last case.”

You laugh and pull him close.

“I knew I married you for a reason.”

——————————————————————————

Around your 36 week mark, Aaron called from his hotel room to check on you.

“How are you, love?”

“Still pregnant,” you gripe.

“I know you’re exhausted, mama. I’ll be home tomorrow. Just remember the go bag for the hospital is packed and sitting right by the front door, just in case.”

“Yes, Aaron. You remind me every day. Honestly I think it’s bit overboard, I’m fine.”

“I just worry about you being alone while I’m gone is all. It never hurts to be prepared. Anyway, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Love you too honey. Good night and be safe tomorrow.”

——————————————————————————

When Aaron arrived home the next night, he was greeted by the sight of you dozing on the couch.

Easing himself down on the edge, he swipes a lock of hair from your face. He softly kisses your forehead and watches as your eyes flutter open.

“Aaron?” you murmur. “You’re home.”

“I’m home,” he whispers. “How are my girls?”

“Better now that you’re home. I’ve had some pretty intense back pain, but otherwise fine.”

“Well sleeping on the couch probably isn’t helping,” he states matter of factly.

“Oh thank you doctor,” you reply sarcastically, giving his arm a playful slap. “I would never have known.”

“You’re welcome,” he says with a shit eating grin. “Let’s get some sleep.”And with that, he sweeps you off the couch, heading for the master bedroom.

——————————————————————————

You woke the next morning still in pain, but not wanting to disturb Aaron. You struggle to sit up, finally managing after a few tries. You pull back the sheets and immediately get a sense of panic and dread at the sight of blood on the hem of your nightgown and the sheets beneath you. As the tears begin to stream, you instinctively call out for him.

Waking up at the sound of his name he asks, “what’s wrong, baby?”

But he realizes the problem before you even get a chance to respond.

Amazingly he seems not to panic at all. The tears and hysterics don’t faze him at all. He simply grabs you out of the bed, carries your directly to the car, and buckles you in.

“Stay right here,” he instructs. “I’m getting Jack and we’re going to the hospital right now.”

What seems like an eternity later, but in reality was only a few minutes, Aaron emerges from the house with Jack and the go bag.

He peels out of the driveway and drives to the nearest hospital with no regard for the speed limit.

When you arrived to the emergency entrance, you look at him with a panic stricken face.

“I’m scared, Aaron.”

“Don’t worry darling,” he says soothingly. “I’m going to get you some help.”

The next thing you know several people are helping you out of the car and loading you onto a stretcher. As they wheel you inside he follows closely behind with Jack asleep in his arms.

“What going on?” you plead.

“I don’t know, love but they’re going to help,” he reassures.

Just then you overhear a member of the medical staff informing Aaron that he’s not allowed any farther.

“What do you mean he can’t come with me?” You wail.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but bleeding is very serious. Both you and the baby could be in danger. We need to get you treatment now and we can’t have any family in the room.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says in a very calm and sure tone. “They’re going to take good care of you. Everything will be fine.”

“FINE? Nothing about this is fine!” you shout. “I can’t do this without you, Aaron.”

“Yes you can,” he replies, holding your hand. “You’re the strongest woman I know. You have to. Do it for her.” He says, placing his hand on your belly.

“We have to go now,” one of the nurses insist.

“Be strong for me okay?” He pleads, gaining a short tearful nod from you in response.

“I love you,” he calls out as they wheel you swiftly down the hall. Just before the stretcher is out of sight he hears your response.

“I love you more.”

——————————————————————————

Collapsing into a chair in the waiting area, mind racing with worry, Aaron does the only thing he can think of at the moment.

The phone rings, and then,

“Aaron! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon after a case,” Rossi says. “We don’t have plans today, do we?”

“No, Dave. It’s Y/N. We’re at the hospital.”

“Wow, I didn’t think she was due for a few more weeks.”

“She’s not,” Aaron explains, his voice beginning to break. “When we woke up, she was bleeding. From what I understand, it’s pretty serious. You’re the first person I thought to call.”

“Oh my God,” Rossi breathes. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Should I call the rest of the team?”

“Yeah, I think that would be best. I could really use some help with Jack. He’s still asleep for now, but,” Aaron pauses for a moment, choking back tears. “I don’t know what to tell him when he wakes up,” he finishes quietly.

“Just hold on, Aaron,” Rossi replies. “We’re coming.”

——————————————————————————

Within an hour, the whole BAU team was crowding the hospital waiting room. Hugs were exchanged and Aaron had handed a still sleeping Jack off to JJ.

Everyone waited in tense silence, not knowing quite what to say.

“I’m scared out my mind, Dave,” Aaron confines to him. “I can’t lose her. I’ve been through too much already. And Jack, God it would crush him if anything happened to her.”

“I think he’s waking up,” JJ whispers.

“Dad?” He asks in a daze as he wakes. “Miss JJ? Where are we?” He questions now aware of the unfamiliar surroundings.

Coming over to squat down in front of him, Aaron does his best to explain.

“Well buddy, this morning mom got sick, so we brought her to the hospital, and the doctors are taking good care of her.”

“Is she going to be okay?” he inquires. “And my baby sister?”

“I hope so, the doctors are working really hard to make mom better okay?”

“Daddy, we should say a prayer for Mama,” Jack responds. “And my baby sister too.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Jack,” Aaron responds, as he quickly turns away to wipe a tear.

The whole group gathered closely around Jack and Aaron. Everyone took turns saying prayer for the health and well being of Y/N and her unborn daughter.

Moments after the last amen was said; just when Aaron thought he would die if he waited a moment longer, a doctor came through the doors.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

Aaron stood, bracing himself for the news.

“Is it alright if I speak in front of the group?”

“Yes, they’re family. Please, just— do you have news about my wife?”

“Sir,” the doctor continues with a look of concern. “You all may want to sit down for this.”

——————————————————————————

Tag list: @ange-must-die @agenthotchner @moonstuffsteve @poetsacademia @hotchners-slut @arganfics @ladyreapermc @rousethemouse @less-intelligent-spencerreid @tgibstan @themanip @word-scribbless @quillvine @glizzieborden @miss-united-ace @samayoshito

[causeiwanttoandican]

Harry, Meghan and me: my truth as a royal reporter

I've covered elections and extremism, but nothing compares to the vitriol I've received since I started writing about the Sussexes

By Camilla Tominey, Associate Editor27 March 2021 • 6:00am

It is probably worth mentioning from the outset that I never, ever, planned to become a royal reporter. I mean, who does? It’s one of those ridiculous jobs most people fall into completely by accident.

I certainly wasn’t coveting the position when I first found out how bonkers the beat could be after covering Charles and Camilla’s wedding in 2005. Desperate for ‘a line’ on what went on at the reception, journalists were reduced to flagging down passing cars in Windsor High Street and interrogating the likes of Stephen Fry about whether they’d had the salmon or the chicken.

Watergate, this wasn’t.

Yet when my former editor called me into his office shortly afterwards and offered me the royal job ‘because you’re called Camilla and you dress nicely’, who was I to refuse?

Having planned to get married myself that summer, and start a family soon afterwards, I looked to the likes of Jennie Bond and Penny Junor and figured it would be a good patch for a working mother as well as being one I could grow old with. Unlike show business, when celebrities are ‘in’ one minute and ‘out’ the next, the royals would stay the same, making it easier to build – and keep – contacts.

So if you’d told me that 16 years later, I would find myself at the centre of a media storm over a royal interview with Oprah Winfrey, I’d have probably laughed in your face. First of all, only royals like Fergie do interviews with Oprah. And since when did journalists become the story?

Yet as I have experienced since the arrival of Meghan Markle on the royal scene in 2016 – a move that roughly coincided with Twitter doubling its 140-character limitation to 280 – royal reporters like me now find themselves in the line of fire like never before.

We are used to the likes of Kate Adie coming under attack in the Middle East, but now it is the correspondents who write up events like Trooping the Colour and the Royal Windsor Horse Show having to take cover from the keyboard warriors supposedly defending the Duke and Duchess of Sussex’s ‘truth’.

Accusations of racism have long been levelled against anyone who has dared to write less than undiluted praise of Harry and Meghan. But even I have been taken aback by the vitriol on social media in the wake of the couple’s televised two-hour talk-a-thon, in which they branded both the Royal family and the British press racist while complaining about their ‘almost unsurvivable’ multimillionaire lives at the hands of the evil monarchy. And all while the rest of the UK were losing their loved ones and livelihoods in a global pandemic.

Having covered Brexit, general elections and stories about Islamic extremism, I’ve grown used to being sprayed with viral vomit on a fairly regular basis, but when you’ve got complete strangers trolling your best friend’s Instagram feed by association? That’s Britney Spears levels of toxic.

Having a hind thicker than a rhino’s, it wasn’t the repeated references to my being ‘a total c—’ that particularly bothered me, nor even the suggestion that I should have my three children put up for adoption. At one point someone even said it would be a good idea for me to drink myself to death like my mother, about whose chronic alcoholism I have written extensively.

No, what really got me was the appalling spelling and grammar. I mean, if you’re going to hurl insults, at least have the decency to get my name right.

Yet in order to understand just how it has come to pass that so-called #SussexSquaders think nothing of branding all royal correspondents ‘white supremacists’ regardless of who they write for, or sending hate mail to our email addresses, offices – and in some cases, even our homes – it’s worth briefly going to back to when I first broke the story that Prince Harry was dating an American actor in the Sunday Express on 31 October 2016. Headlined: ‘Royal world exclusive: Harry’s secret romance with TV star’, the splash revealed how the popular prince was ‘secretly dating a stunning US actress, model and human rights campaigner’.

Despite my now apparently being on a par with the Ku Klux Klan for failing to acknowledge Meghan as the next messiah, it was actually not until the fifteenth paragraph of that original article that the ‘confident and intelligent’ Northwestern University graduate was described as ‘the daughter of an African-American mother and a father of Dutch and Irish descent’.

Call me superficial, but I was genuinely far more interested in the fact that Harry ‘I-come-with-baggage’ Wales was dating a former ‘briefcase girl’ from the US version of Deal or No Deal than the colour of her skin. A ginger prince punching well above his weight? This was the stuff of tabloid dreams. Little did I know then that covering the trials and tribulations of these two lovebirds would turn into such a nightmare.

The online hostility began bubbling up about eight days after that first story, when Harry’s then communications secretary Jason Knauf issued an ‘unprecedented’ statement accusing the media of ‘crossing a line’.

‘His girlfriend, Meghan Markle, has been subject to a wave of abuse and harassment’, it read, referencing a ‘smear on the front page of a national newspaper; the racial undertones of comment pieces; and the outright sexism and racism of social media trolls and web article comments’. Meghan’s mother, Doria Ragland, had apparently been besieged by photographers, while bribes had been offered to Meghan’s ex-boyfriend along with ‘the bombardment of nearly every friend, coworker, and loved one in her life’.

Suffice to say, I did feel a bit guilty. Although I hadn’t written anything remotely racist or sexist, I had started the ball rolling for headlines like the MailOnline’s ‘(Almost) straight outta Compton’ (referencing a song by hip-hop group NWA about gang violence and Meghan’s upbringing in the nearby LA district of Crenshaw), along with her ‘exotic’ DNA (which I subsequently called out, including on This Morning in the wake of ‘Megxit’ in January last year).

Omid Scobie, co-author of Finding Freedom, a highly favourable account of the Sussexes’ departure from the Royal family, written with their cooperation last summer, would later insist that the couple knew the story of their relationship was coming out and were well prepared for it.

I can tell you categorically that they weren’t, since I did not even put a call into Kensington Palace before we went to press for fear of it being leaked. (I did later discuss this with Harry, when I covered his trip to the Caribbean in November 2016, and to be fair he was pretty philosophical, agreeing it would have come out sooner or later. But that was before the former Army Captain decided to well and truly shoot the messenger, latterly telling journalists covering the newly-weds’ tax-payer-funded October 2018 tour of Australia and the south Pacific: ‘Thanks for coming, even though you weren’t invited.’)

The royal press pack is the group of dedicated writers who cover all the official engagements and tours on a rota system, in exchange for not bothering the royals as they go about their private business. It was a shame this ragtag bunch, of which I am an associate member, was never personally introduced to Meghan when the couple got engaged in November 2017.

I still have fond memories of a then Kate Middleton, upon her engagement to Prince William in November 2010, showing me her huge sapphire and diamond ring following a press conference at St James’s Palace with the words, ‘It was William’s mother’s so it is very special.’

I replied that she might want to consider buying ‘one of those expanding accordion style file holders’ to organise all her wedding paperwork. (Reader, I had given birth to my second child less than four months earlier and was still lactating.)

Not meeting Meghan did not stop royal commentators like me writing reams about her being ‘a breath of fresh air’ and telling practically every TV show I appeared on that she was the ‘best thing to have happened to the Royal Family in years’.

As the world followed the joyous news of the Windsors’ resident strip billiards star having finally found ‘the one’, the couple enjoyed overwhelmingly positive press culminating in their fairy-tale wedding in May 2018, which we headlined ‘So in love’ above a picture of the bride and groom kissing. I tweeted the wedding front page, along with the original story breaking the news of their relationship with the words, ‘Job done’. Yet, as Meghan would later point out in a glossy Santa Barbara garden, that was by far the end of the story.

According to the Duchess’s testimony before a global audience of millions, the seeds for their royal departure were actually sown by an article I wrote in November 2018 suggesting she made Kate cry during a bridesmaid’s dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.

Claiming the ‘reverse happened’, the former Suits star railed, ‘A few days before the wedding she was upset about something, pertaining to, yes, the issue was correct, about flower-girl dresses, and it made me cry, and it really hurt my feelings.’

She then went on to criticise the palace for failing to correct the story – suggesting that royal aides had hung her out to dry to protect the Duchess of Cambridge.

All of which left me in a bit of a sticky situation. As I told Phillip Schofield on This Morning the following day, ‘I don’t write things I don’t believe to be true and that haven’t been really well sourced.’

Having seemingly been completely bowled over by Meghan’s version of events, Schofe then went for the jugular: ‘I have to say, though, that’s all addressed in that interview, isn’t it, because she [Meghan] couldn’t understand why nobody stood up for her?’

Yet someone had stood up for her, on that very same This Morning sofa: me.

As I told Phil and Holly on 14 January 2019, as more reports of ‘Duchess Difficult’ started to emerge, ‘I think she [Meghan] is doing really well, she looks amazing, she speaks well. She has played a blinder.’

So you’ll forgive me if I can’t quite understand why Meghan didn’t feel the need to correct this supposedly glaring error once she had her own dedicated head of communications from March 2019 – or indeed when she ‘collaborated’ with Scobie, who concluded in his bestselling hagiography that ‘no one cried’?

Moreover, how did the Duchess know a postnatal Kate wasn’t ‘left in tears’? And if she doesn’t know, what hope has the average troll observing events through the prism of their own deep-rooted insecurities?

It appears the actual truth ceases to matter once sides have been taken in the unedifying Team Meghan versus Team Kate battle that has divided the internet.

Make no mistake, there are abject morons at both extremes spewing the sort of bile that, ironically, makes most of the media coverage of Harry and Meghan look like a 1970s edition of Jackie magazine.

It perhaps didn’t help my case that the day before the interview was aired in the US, I had written a lengthy piece carefully weighing up the evidence behind allegations of ‘outrageous bullying’ that had been levelled against Meghan during what proved to be a miserable 20 months in the Royal family for all concerned.

The messages – to my Twitter feed, my email, my website and official Facebook page – ranged from the threatening, to the typical tropes about media ‘scum’ and the downright bizarre. Some accused me of being in cahoots with Carole Middleton, with whom I have never interacted, unless you count a last-minute Party Pieces purchase in a desperate moment of poor parental planning.

Another frequent barb was questioning why the press wasn’t writing about that ‘pedo’ [sic] Prince Andrew instead – seemingly oblivious to the fact that no one would know about the Duke of York’s links to Jeffrey Epstein if it wasn’t for the acres of coverage devoted to the story by us royal hacks over recent years.

It didn’t matter that I had repeatedly torn the Queen’s second, and, some say, favourite son to pieces for everything from his propensity to take his golf clubs on foreign tours to that disastrous Newsnight interview.

Contrary to the ‘invisible contract’ Harry claims the palace has with the press, royal coverage works roughly like this: good royal deeds = good publicity. Bad royal deeds = bad publicity. We effectively act as a critical friend, working on behalf of a public that rightly expects the royals to take the work – but not themselves – seriously.

So when a royal couple preaches about climate change before taking four private jets in 11 days, it is par for the course for a royal scribe to point out the inconsistency of that message. None of it is ever personal, as evidenced by the fact that practically every member of the monarchy has come in for flak over the years.

If Oprah wasn’t willing to point out the discrepancies in Harry and Meghan’s testimony, surely it is beholden on royal reporters to question how the Duchess had managed to undertake four foreign holidays in the six months after her wedding, in addition to official tours to Italy, Canada, and Amsterdam, as well as embarking on a lengthy honeymoon, if she had ‘turned over’ her passport?

While no one would wish to undermine the extent of her mental health problems, could it really be true that she only left the house twice in four months when she managed to cram in 73 days’ worth of engagements, according to the Court Circular, in the 17 months between her wedding and the couple’s departure to Canada?

And what of the ‘racist’ headlines flashed up during the interview purporting to be from the British press, when more than a third were actually taken from independent blogs and the foreign media? The UK media abides by the Independent Press Standards Organisation’s Code of Conduct ‘to avoid prejudicial or pejorative reference to an individual’s race’, as well as by rigorous defamation laws. And rightly so – the British press doesn’t always get it right. But social media is the Wild West by comparison, publishing vile slurs on a daily basis with impunity.

Some therefore find it strange that such a litigious couple would claim to have been ‘silenced’ when they have made so many complaints, including resorting to legal action, over stories they claim not to have even read. There is something similarly contradictory about a couple accusing the tabloids of lacking self-reflection while refusing to take any blame at all – for anything.

In any normal world, informed writing on such matters would be classed as fair comment, but not, seemingly, on Twitter where those completely lacking any objectivity whatsoever are only too willing to virtue signal and manoeuvre.

As the trolling reached fever pitch in the aftermath of the interview, veteran royal reporter Robert Jobson of the Evening Standard called me. ‘Don’t respond to these freaks,’ he advised. ‘It’s getting nasty out there. Watch your back!’

Yet despite my general sense of bewilderment at the menacing Megbots, I can’t say it didn’t appal me to discover a close friend had received online abuse, purely by dint of being my mate. After discussing the lengths the troll must have gone to to track her down, she asked me, ‘Do you ever worry someone might do something awful to you?’ Er, not until now, no.

Of course it’s upsetting, even for a cynical old-timer like me. Worse still are people who actually know me casting aspersions on my profession on social media. Often these are the same charlatans who would think nothing of sidling up to me for the latest gossip on the Royal family, while publicly pretending that reading any such coverage is completely beneath them.

Most pernicious of all though – not least after Piers Morgan’s departure from Good Morning Britain following a complaint to ITV and Ofcom from the Duchess – is the corrosive effect this whole hullabaloo is having on freedom of speech. When you’ve got a former actor effectively editing a British breakfast show from an £11 million Montecito mansion, what next?

I cannot help but think we are in danger of setting race relations back 30 years if people are seriously suggesting that any criticism of Meghan is racially motivated. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me. When Priti Patel was accused of bullying, the very same people who willingly hung the Home Secretary out to dry are now the ones defending Meghan against such claims, saying they have been levelled at her simply because she is ‘a strong woman of colour’.

Of course journalists should take responsibility for everything they report and be held to account for it – but Harry and Meghan do not have a monopoly on the truth simply because the close friend and neighbour who interviewed them in return for £7 million from CBS took what they said as gospel.

If she isn’t willing to probe the disparity between Meghan saying someone questioned the colour of Archie’s skin when she was pregnant, and Harry suggesting it happened before they were even married, then someone must. There’s a name for such scrutiny. It’s called journalism.

The public reserves the right to make up its own mind – with the help of the watchful eye of a free and fair press. But that press can never be free or fair if journalists do not feel they can report without fear or favour. I’m lucky that a lot of the criticism I face is more than balanced out by hugely supportive members of the public and online community who either agree – or respect the right to disagree. Along with the hate mail, I have had many thoughtful and eloquent missives, including those that good naturedly challenge what I have written in the paper or said on TV, which have genuinely given me pause for thought.

I am more than happy to enter into constructive discourse with these correspondents, who are frankly sometimes the only people who keep me on Twitter. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the bloody thing if this wasn’t my day job.

With the National Union of Journalists this month declaring that harassment and abuse had ‘become normalised’ within the industry, never have members of Britain’s press needed more courage. As Winston Churchill famously said, ‘You have enemies? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.’

Who would have thought that the preservation of the fundamental freedoms that we hold so dear should partially rest on the shoulders of those who follow around a 94-year-old woman and her family for a living?

If I’d known then what I know now, would I still have written the bridesmaid’s dress story?

Yes – doubtlessly reflecting sisterly sobs all round. But after two decades in this business, I am clear-eyed enough to know this for certain: whatever I had written, it would still have ended in tears.

[looney-mooney]

Thinking about making an au where Sam and Max are Haru’s distant, crazy gay American uncles who she hasn’t thought about in a while. Until she starts seriously dating Legosi, after which she’s like “maybe I should contact Uncle Max, he’s been married to a vigilante canine for ages”

Details for the Insane Beastars/Sam and Max au under the cut

Max of course DEMANDS to see his niece and her crazy new wolf boyfriend, so they end up going on a trip to the Beastars version of New York City. Louis ends up going along and paying for the trip, because he was already headed over for a business deal so they might as well.

The Beastars version of New York City is obviously culturally different from the Beastars version of Japan, and Legosi ends up getting a new perspective (as he always does.) There are some bugs who can actually talk here (???), and meat isn’t considered taboo in the same way. Most people sign up to be meat donors in their driver’s licenses, because there’s a tax incentive. This move has considerably lessened the strain between Herbivores and Carnivores, so though there’s still definitely some tension between the two groups, those who vehemently insist that carnivores and herbivores shouldn’t interact or date or anything are generally considered right-wing bigots. Most people don’t even really see a separation anymore - carnivores can be meat donors too, and some herbivores here eat meat sometimes. Most Americans are just omnivores.

Systematic racism is still a thing, obviously, because America just Sucks Like That, but I’m White so I’m not even gonna attempt to map out the History of American Racism with Furries. Just know that most people in America have at least a little bit of mixed ancestry, and Legosi probably thinks that’s cool and fascinating while everyone else is like “you seriously didn’t know about the Great American Melting Pot? Bruh have you been living under a rock”

Max is part piranha and no I am not elaborating

They also don’t have permanent Beastars in the States. The closest thing they have to a Beastar is the President, which in this world is… basically the American Beastar. I’m having this be the case mostly so that President Max still fits in with the Beastars Lore ™

Geek exists, and is just a bit younger than Haru and Legosi. She’s probably in high school, but taking college classes at the same time, because Geek’s just. Like That. She’s probably a monkey. Haru isn’t sure what she thinks about Geek at first, but then they start talking and plotting mutant botany projects together and Haru decides that this is her favorite cousin actually

I think Sybil should be at least part fox. Maybe even kitsune-coded, since she changes careers so often? Doctor Mama Bosco’s probably either a dog or a sheep, maybe a sheepdog hybrid? Whatever she is, she started her cloning experiments with insects, which is how Sal and the other talking insects in New York came to exist. Bosco’s probably one of those experimental spider goats or something. The Stinkys are carnivorous seafolk of some sort, originally from the Hudson River but migrated to Land when the river got too polluted for their ancestors to keep living there exclusively. Grandpa Stinky was probably fascinated by land culture and particularly cooking as a young sea-land immigrant, and just messed with the art of cooking as much as possible, which led to the insane food he sells at his diner. I am not going to attempt to assign Abraham Lincoln a fursona.

Legosi spends a good chunk of the trip trying to impress Sam and Max, because these people are members of Haru’s Family and he wants them to like him, but then Legosi ends up star-struck by how well Haru’s uncles work together. He’s never seen partners quite like them in action before, and tries to get them to teach him. But these guys aren’t shonen anime mentors, they’re Sam and Max, so it becomes more of a “hey back off buddy just be yourself and maybe trust your partners a little bit more”

Max in particular really tears Legosi a new one, really gives him a nice good shovel talk. Like, Max likes the kid, sure. Legosi’s the BEST kinda crazy and also a really sweet guy and he seems to care about his niece a lot. But he’s really, REALLY annoyed by how much Legosi shuts Haru out of his life. Like, she’s Max’s kin, she’d be able to take care of herself, she doesn’t need you to protect her to the point of reverence, she needs you to let her in. And not just sexually! Though he has some health class tips and condoms if they wanna do that, cuz he’s the cool uncle. But if you wanna be her partner, you have to RESPECT her, kapiche? Stop treating her like some damsel in distress, she’s tougher than you think. I will end you if you don’t stop infantilizing her.

Sam and Max teach Haru how to fight at some point, because no relative of theirs is gonna go through life not knowing how to defend themselves! Max specifically teaches Haru how to use her hammerspace, and now nobody is safe from her wrath. They also taught her how to use a gun, while scolding Louis for never teaching her this incredibly important life skill! For shame.

Imagine Haru with a gun. The power she would wield. No wonder Paru nerfed her

Speaking of Louis, I’m sure he gets involved in the misadventure somehow, probably by getting accidentally tangled with the villain’s plot during his business deal. I’m sure it’s tangled up in the reveal that Mama Bosco was involved with the anthropomorphic insects, just cuz that’s the biggest and newest difference between these two cultures, and might also somehow nod to the systematic racism in America and how fucked up that is.

Might also address how capitalism is the root of all evil, and how the pressure to conform to capitalism in order to maintain a position of power in his attempts to make the world a better place while also giving Legosi and Haru the space to have their own relationship (while also forcing himself to maintain the charade of a heteronormative arranged marriage with someone he isn’t even remotely attracted to) has been slowly but ruthlessly breaking Louis in a terrible cycle, and how he’s spent so much of his life hiding behind masks that he doesn’t even know who he is anymore. And now he’s in a cage again, but this time he put himself there, with his own actions. And Legosi has to tell him that he doesn’t have to pretend all the time, that he’s his best friend and he wants to help. That he and Haru both love him, and they want him in their lives.

The whole adventure probably ends with Haru saving her boy’s butts, and ruthlessly affirming what Legosi just said. Demanding that they BOTH stop hiding from her, and BOTH stop trying to “protect” her. That she NEEDS them, and she wants them to need her. That they don’t have to be Beastars to be PARTNERS.

And then the whole family (yes I’m including Louis and Legosi in this family) beats the villains up and goes out for a celebratory meal or something IDK how to end things

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things-First Day Jitters (Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None.

A/N: There will be a Part 2 to this piece based on S3E10 in order to give some groundwork to the dynamics amongst the team once the reader joins them. Enjoy reading! I had so much fun making this piece. 

The Purest Things Masterlist

au! october 2007

"Criminal profiling is more of an art than a science. Modeling a criminal profile demands the precise marrying of psychological and rational instincts with the crime scene's particulars. What steps would you take in the process of analyzing a suspect to form a solid profile," the stoic BAU Section Cheif asks.

"First, I would want to accumulate all attainable information about the crime to help explain the "how" and "why" of the offense," you counter.

"What kind of information?"

"I'd want to acquire knowledge on the victim to examine the victimology. For example, I'd determine the victim's career and place of employment, friends, family, social status, criminal records, and daily routines and habits. Then, I can look at the connection between the victim and the unidentified subject. Did they know each other, or are they strangers? Why was the victim targeted, and was it them specifically, or are they just one quarry in a tangled web of attacks?"

You look for some signal in Cheif Strauss's attitude as to whether or not you should continue. 

Let’s ramp this up a notch. 

Taking the liberty of doing so regardless, you continue.

"Then, I want to know more about the attacker. I want to classify him...or her, as well as the offense. Why did it take place at a specific location? What is the motive? Is the suspect an amateur or a professional? This collection of data helps to assemble a proper crime assessment. I can now paint the picture of what happened before, during, and after the attack. Next, I can start to hypothesize and formulate a complete profile; I can deduce the kind of person we are dealing with. This assessment includes the age range, social status, what type of career he or she may hold, their I.Q., anything that describes the attacker. Now, I can give the profile to investigators and work to capture the assailant. The profile not only helps track him down but also helps refine the interrogation process."

Pausing the video recording, David sets the remote on the table.

"Academically, she's perfect for the job, Aaron. But will she fit in with the team? She seems too well trained, too straight from the textbook."

"That's why I wanted you to see this next part."

They both watch you in expectation.

"If I may Section Chief Strauss...as much as academic training benefits a student in laying the foundations for their selected career field, all of the studying and laboring over perfect grades becomes virtually obsolete once on the job. Instead, implementing the mechanics and learning through experience, trial, and error is far more beneficial. Executing what you've learned in the real world and refining your expertise in the field is the only way to accurately reveal whether or not you are capable of doing your job."

Rossi snickers at your straightforwardness. Aaron crosses his arms, struggling to fight back the urge to smile.

"Care to expound on that?" Strauss proposes.

"You don't trust the current...organization within the BAU. You feel as though Unit Cheif Hotchner and his team pose a threat to the unit. However, I think you put more emphasis on the chain of command. Specifically, you don't trust Agent Hotchner. In the entirety of this vetting process, you have continually undermined the Unit Chief's role in selecting a new agent. He has not been included in any of our telephone calls. Never once have you cc'd him on our emails. Nor has he been invited to sit in on our in-person interviews. I think the only time I've set eyes on him was in the lobby. He seemed to be completely unaware of my presence and purpose here. I'm sure that were I to be hired TodayToday, I could walk right into his office, and he would be blindsided entirely by my arrival and position on the team. Now, if I am to be apart of this renowned group of individuals, I want to know that I will be a part of it. I do not intend to be an outsider in my field or a pawn for higher-ups' ulterior motives. So, with all due respect Cheif Strauss, I would like to withdraw my application. If any of the aspects that I have touched on prove true and impact my role within this unit, I have no interest in undermining an established team that has no place for me."

Rossi claps Aaron on the shoulder, "She'll do just fine."

**********

You step inside the lobby of the FBI Academy. Although the sight is not new to you after your intense vetting process, it now takes on a new meaning. You have a new purpose. Processing your surroundings, you regard the entryway's clean efficiency. Considering the darkness that looms over this bureau, the lobby is welcoming all the same. 

So this is what my tax dollars have been paying for.

Noticing that an elevator has arrived, you call out to the person inside one of the many lifts. They hold it open for you. The sound of your clipping heels progresses as you run across the glossy tile floor. High heels may not seem like the most logical choice for your first day of work in the FBI, but when wearing them, you feel elevated. As if the world is your stage and you are the ballerina dazzling the crowd in her pointe shoes. Sure, they are uncomfortable at times, but wearing them can almost be considered a superpower. A quintessential accessory of the iconic femme fatale.

The woman in the elevator gasps as you climb on board, startling slightly.

"Are those Jimmy Choos?" She squeals.

You laugh and shake your head, peering down at the patent leather footwear, "No. I wish, though! They're just some old Steve Madden's I got on the clearance racks." Seeing her shoes, you imitate her enthusiasm, "Those are unique! I've never seen a green...quite that color on shoes before."

Chuckling, she thanks you, "Shoes are one of the many ways I express myself. I'm pretty sure at this point I have a pair of shoes in every color for every mood. Today I was feeling a little envious, so I chose this lime green."

"Envious?" You ask.

"There is a Doctor Who convention going on this weekend, and I have meet and greet tickets for the entire cast, but I've been called in on a case. Meanwhile, three of my friends from counterterrorism are on their way to meet David Tennant as we speak. So yes, I am envious."

"Oh my gosh, I heard about that! Catherin Tate is going to be there too. God, what I would give to meet Donna Nobel in the flesh."

"You watch Doctor Who?" Her eyes widen.

You shrug my shoulders, "I'm a bit of a self-proclaimed Whovian."

Shoving her bags underneath her shoulders to free her hands, she stretches them to you, "Penelope Garcia. We are going to be the best of friends."

Taking her hand in yours, you introduce yourself, "I'm Y/F/N/ Y/L/N. I look forward to having a best friend in the building. Today is my first day."

"Oh sweetie, you are going to do amazing," she looks up at the floor number as the elevator dings, "Well, this is my stop."

Stepping off alongside her, you notice her slight surprise. "Mine too," you announce proudly.

"Wait," she whispers, holding a hand up to your face in a stopping motion, "Today is your first day. Oh! Are you the newbie?"

"Today is my first day as a profiler at the BAU, yes."

Stomping her feet repeatedly, she cheers, "Oh, this day keeps getting better! My darling, you will fit in just fine. Now come with me. There's another fellow Whovian I'd like for you to meet."

Following her through the enormous glass doors and into the department, you can't help but feel slightly overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle. "Welcome to the bullpen," she turns around, beaming, "Oh! Spencer, come hither, the new girl is here!"

The young man spins around in his chair and raises his eyebrows, giving you a once-over; he strolls across the office to meet you. You can't tell if he is too tall or too thin. Perhaps, his head is just considerably big for his body, or his lengthy hair gives that illusion. When he nods at you, holding his hand out to greet you, he looks slightly like a little bobble-head doll.

"Dr. Spencer Reid at your service!" He melodically sings.

Nerdy pipe cleaner. I like him.

"It's a pleasure, Dr. Reid. I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N."

"I read you got a full ride through college and graduated from Berkley with a semester completed at the University of Kent for Psychology of Criminal Justice, and you have a degree in Forensic Psychology."

You nod, impressed by his research—time to dazzle him with yours.

"And you, Dr. Reid, attended Caltech. You completed your undergraduate degree at 16, and you hold Bachelor's degrees in Psychology, Sociology, and Philosophy. Very impressive."

"You forgot PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering," he adds.

You nod, "My apologies."

Breaking a tiny smile, he shifts his gaze to the floor as you notice the light tint of pink shading his cheeks. Unable to resist, you feel the heat rise to yours as well.

"Ah! You must be our newest recruit—Benvenuto nell'esperienza della tua vita," a gentle voice echoes from behind you.

Turning around, you see a familiar-looking, dapperly dressed older gentlemen gliding down the stairs to greet you.

"And you are Agent David Rossi. I attended one of your guest lectures at Berkley three years ago," you reach your hand out to meet his.

"Call me Dave, and you can thank me for inspiring your career choice later. Right now, we have a case. It looks like it'll be a first day via baptism by fire for you kiddo," he lifts his thick eyebrows and winks at you. David motions for you to follow his lead, and you eagerly journey behind him.  

In the conference room, you are met with the eager faces of four other new colleagues. The first to catch your eye is the herculean adonis, whose attention fixates on you. You watch as his eyes scour you top to bottom, taking your whole body in.

Four words. Sculpted by the gods. Where has he been all my life?

"Where have you been all my life?" The statuesque man purrs, running his thumb across his bottom lip.

Ha. Jinx. You can buy me a drink anytime.

"Hiding from men who lead an introduction with that," you strut over to shake his hand. A knot swirls in your stomach as your finger-tips touch, but you quickly dismiss it as mere infatuation.

Throwing his head back in laughter, he responds, "I like you already. Derek Morgan."

"It's nice to see you again," the bright, blue-eyed young woman you recognized as the media liaison smiles, "I'm Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me J.J." On the day of your first interview with Strauss, she offered you directions to the Section Chief's office.

Next, Agent Prentiss introduces herself. Her thick, raven-colored hair elegantly falls to her shoulders and encompasses her diamond-shaped face. There is a spirited as well as clever expression in her eyes.

Finally, Agent Hotchner stands up. You are taken aback by his astute and severe manner. He's taller than you recall, although you have only observed him from afar. Like most men, he seems to have become an automaton of the modern workplace, measured and valued just for his productivity and obedience. He is tense, most likely swallowing intense trauma and concealing it so he can get up each day and do the same tedious job again and again. Most men display these traits in the way they parent, becoming domineering companions, stacking decay over destruction until their home-life collapses. What remains is a mass of bitterness resentment.

Yet, he exhibits none of this. Beneath this rather tough exterior, you can discern that he is the kind of handsome that infiltrates your bones, that exudes an air of olden times before he's even said a word to you.

Tag List:

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[mrfandomwars]

AU where the Top 20 Heroes know about OFA

All might decides, wether because he was pressured by Gran Torino or Sir Nighteye or both, idk, but All Might decides to tell the top 20 heroes about OFA, in case he is in a position where he has to pass his quirk and doesn't have the time to give them all the story of the Quirk

(HC)Kind of like what happened with Nana with her friend En.

Anywho, cue chaos

Because what

It takes a while for the top 20 to understand what happened

For example, Rei is wondering why Enji is so shell shocked while taking care of baby Touya and Baby Fuyumi

*On a bright side, though, he realized that, technically speaking, he is one rank ahead because Toshinori does have help*

*Yes, this is based on that one thing I rebloged a while before, if you can find it pls send me the link

CONTINUING ON!!!! The top 20 get busy, helping either the load of All Might, so he can either rest or look for AFO OR help by trying to look for clues on where AFO is themselves

They also hunt down Toshinori and force him to sleep

Also, because of the whole OFA revealed thing, the top heroes are closer than before, with team ups and such

It also means that they are there to help take Enji out of his obsession of becoming number 1, either by forcing him to train with them or by forcing to go to therapy with the threat of ratting out to the Hero Commission about his 'unstable mental space'

They weren't actually going to do that

Side Note: The Top 20 also know that they can't tell the Hero Commission about OFA because either they would use it to blackmail All Might or force him to pass it on or worse

Anyone who tries to tell HPSC or any criminal organization will be dealt with

By whatever means necessary

Anyways, if Enji got worse, the heroes would remove Rei and the kids from home and try and get Enji back to his old, as in good, way as soon as possible.

It was then that Rei shared pictures of her, the kids and All Might in the BNHA version of Disney Land

The Press: 'Did the Wife of the Number Two Hero Leave him for All Might? More at Seven!'

Enji sulked a bit when he was back to normal because of that

Also, Enji, when he no longer was an a-hole, made it clear that if Rei wanted to leave the marriage that he wouldn't stop helping her family or stop her from seeing the kids if they somehow ended up spending most of the time with him

The Heroes also made sure that if Rei needed, they would break her out and hid her

Rei thanked them but decided to stay, with monthly trips to Marriage Counsellor with Enji, both in the agreement that if the other decided that the relationship wasn't working that they would either break up, or keep being married for show and taxes and stuff until they found someone else they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with

Also, when Touya started to insist on to become a hero/use his quirk, the Heroes were there and helped Rei and Enji deal with it

I feel like I should mention that Enji social skills are better in this au

As is his popularity ratings because of the other heroes

Oh wow, I have been focusing on Enji the Todoroki Family a lot

Just going to say this then: Weather or not, Touya still ends up becoming Dabi is undecided

Ok, now back to the other heroes

They force Toshinori to rest, going as far as to hunt him down in broad daylight and/or threatening him to reveal any embarrassing story they have to the press

Toshinori never rested more in his entire Hero Career

The Press is going wild, some trying to guess why the heroes are working together more now

The gossip rags go as far as trying to see if anyone is dating anyone

'Breaking news! Is Endeavor dating All Might?'

'Thank you Yumi, now- Wait, is that Endeavor running after All Might throwing fire at him!?'

'Yes, Endeavor was under Mind Control, no, we won't talk more about the incident.' = Endeavor Agency

When AFO vs All Might happen, the heroes minus Endeavor go help with the fight

They didn't want to make it so that kids didn't have a father, even if Enji himself admitted he wasn't the best one

Anyway, some heroes end up dead, other's injured enough to retire and a few unlucky ones got their quirk stolen

They reassure Toshinori, who blamed himself when he discovered, that they didn't mind

They did take down the worst villain in the history of Japan, so if that's all it took, they don't mind.

Toshinori still feels guilty, especially when the heroes that recovered/ weren't able to go to the fight, go chasing after him to insist that he rests

The Most effective method is sticking the Todoroki kids + maybe Rei, if she isn't busy, on Toshinori on strict conditions to not let All Might go

Also, side note: Rei now is able to do a college online (as it was easier for her at the time, later on she might go in person) and to sell some ice sculptures to her own bank account thanks to the Heroes not minding being babysitters

And slowly turning almost every member of the Todoroki family into their fans, enough that, no matter what they tell Enji, he is their number two hero

Also also also, Toshinori isn't as hurt as in canon, but AFO is more hurt, as there were more people to help All Might in the fight, so while AM isn't top health, thanks to the help in the fight and making sure he actually rests from the 'evil monster that appeared and tried to take over Japan that needed the top heroes to take them down' (as the press and people think), All might ends up having a few more hours in canon, but when he passes on the quirk to Izuku his hours shorten to 3 like in canon

No, the heroes didn't know that All Might passed on OFA until the school year started

Enji, storming in during the sports festival where the heroes that knew about Toshinori's condition and said person were, having talked to his son: What the Hell Yagi!? Why didn't you tell us you had a kid!?

Toshinori: *Coughs blood while the heroes that know and do not know about OFA are in an uproar while Midnight pass money to Ectoplasm but refuses to give some to Cementoss, they don't know for sure that Izuku was from a one-night stand, so she won't pay you*

Also, as people rise up to the charts, they are told about the secret, but only after a while when they are sure that they can trust them

Haws took the longest, and it took Miruko, Best Jeanist and even Endeavor to reassure them that they would keep an eye on him for Hawks to be told

He hasn't betrayed their trust, mostly because he doesn't want to and the rest because the Comission never asked him if he knew about All Might's quirk sooooooo

Also, they try to make sure the charts don't change much from the top 20 upwards, or if it does it's someone who was already in the known, as to not reveal the secret too many times

Which heroes who aren't in the know Do Not Like

Also, when Toshinori's time for the day is up (which, btw, the heores were concerned over the fact that it somehow lowered to 20), he calls in other heroes to replace him

Yes, this is an invitation for someone to make a fic where a hero is there with Azawa and Thirteen when the USJ happens

Anyway, cue very weirded out UA about how all the top heroes seem to passive agreesively force All Might to rest or appear and take over the classes after kicking Toshinori out