#and there's nowhere else I can dump these feelings

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

can you PLEASEEEE do something with the idea of reader stealing/wearing katsukis clothes?? you’re the only one who i think will fully do this idea justice xx

pure fluff, reader is a thief, reader likes the way katsuki smells, roughhousing lol kinda ?? katsuki sorta tackles you, katsuki is a meanie, tickling, no pronouns mentioned in this one I don’t think ! lemme know if i missed sum else !!

a/n : hey so this has been sittin in my drafts for literal decades omg IM SO SORRY🙁🙁🙁🙁ALSO BTW TYSM FOR THINKIN I COULD DO UR ASK JUSTICE I WAS SO FLATTERED WHEN I READ THIS I WAS GIGGLING N SHIT🤭🤭i was always so excited for this ask but I literally never got around to doing it after my break n stuff, im slowly (and that’s suuuuper slowly im so sorry yall i suck) getting to all of your asks one at a time and im so grateful yall r still givin me the time of day honestly , so please be patient with me🤧💗💗💍 ! But anway enough dumping ! Anon if you’re still sticking around, i truly hope u enjoy this ! And ofc all of yall too ! much luv xxx!!

"you fuckin' thief.."

shit. you thought he'd be gone for longer.

lately, you’d been routinely sneaking into katsuki’s dorm room and nabbing some of his clothes. sweaters, hoodies, t-shirts : as long as they were in your reach, you’d grab them.

it's not your fault, really ! katsuki's clothes are so cosy and warm and they smell just like him. plus, they're perfect to snuggle in when he's busy, how could you not borrow them for a little while ?!

..except you can admit that you’ve been stalling..and a lot of his clothes were still in your room, but you still planned on giving them back..soon !

and you can’t even pretend, because you’re wearing on of his hoodies that had been missing for a good week now.

"katsuki, baby." you slowly lean away from his clothes drawer, your hand ready to snag a black hoodie of his slowly trailing towards the floor "i can explain."

"all my damn sweaters, my fuckin' hoodies. they all just vanished without a trace.." he starts, slowly stalking over to you. you squeak, slowing getting on your knees to prepare yourself should you have to break his ankles and sprint out of the room. he's fuming, eyebrows twitching "thought i was goin' crazy.."

"and all this time.."

"suki.." you try, voice wobbly as your knees shake with each step closer he gets.

"it's been fucking YOU ?!"

and he pounces.

with a squeal, you scramble and dash away just as he leaps for you and narrowly misses, he's got you cornered as you're on opossite sides of his bed while you beg for mercy and he keeps yelling at you to 'come here'. in a panick you grab one of his pillows and fling it at him.

it feels like the pillow slides down his face in slow motion to reveal a look so vile a demon appearing in front of you right now would scare you less

“you’re. so. dead.”

there’s really nowhere else for you to go. you’re truly cornered, you might as well just be buried right now. you think about the leftovers waiting for you in the fridge and how sero still hadn’t returned the manga he’d leant from you, but you’ve lived a pretty good life.

before your body can decide to move, katsuki leaps over to you tackling you and having you land straight onto his bed with a loud shriek.

frantically, you wave your hands around “wait, wait pleasepleasepleasepleasepleas-” but your begs of mercy are cut off when katsuki jams a finger into your side, causing you to yelp. he hovers over you with a mean smirk. and you know what’s coming.

“katsu—”

you don’t even get to finish before he jams his hands into your sides and mercilessly tickles you.

from an outsiders point of view? this is harmless. but your boyfriend is mean and the biggest asshole in the world because he knows all of your weak spots and the places he knows will have you shaking and gasping for breath. it felt like actually torture, really.

“thought you could get away with it, huh ?” he sneers, leaning down a bit more so he’s eye level with you “thought you could keep taking my shit and i’d just neeever find out, hm ? yeah ?”

“b-but i—ah ! didn’t—!” you gasp and squeal, choking on the sentences you can’t manage to push out of your throat as your eyes squeeze closed. you don’t have to see his face to know he’s enjoying this.

“you’re a fuckin’ thief.” he spits, backing up from you so you don’t headbutt him square in the nose from your thrashing. you’re response is nothing but a harsh gasp and he smirks wider.

you think he’s finally, finally taken pity on you when his fingers slow to a stop, but he glares down at you, hands still on either sides of you “say it.”

you can’t even catch your breath before he hurriedly pressed closer to your sides to scare you, you shriek “stop ! m’sorry !”

“not what i wanted you to say, try again.”

“you’re—” you take a breath “sucha”

his fingers graze your shirt and his eyes are wide, daring you to finish your sentence, you bring your hands up to try to hide his field of vision.

“OKAY ! okay, okay…” you slowly lower your hands away, finally dropping them at your sides with a sigh “m’ a thief…” you mumble in defeat, embarrassment creeping up on you not only from the fact that you got caught but that the blond above you clearly enjoyed your torture if the evil snickers you heard we’re any sign of that.

he hums in satisfaction “mhm, no good fuckin’ thief. should lock you up and throw away the key on your ass.” you hate how handsome he looks when he’s playful like this with you. your sides still hurt and your voice is croaky from how out of breath you were and for a moment you seriously thought you saw the pearly gates.

you pout, and all it does is make him smile wider.

your boyfriend is mean. and the biggest asshole in the entire fucking world.

“s’not my fault..your clothes are comfy.” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. “and they smell good.”

he scoffs, leaning down closer towards you “that’s cus i fuckin’ wash them. and i haven’t been able to lately cus someone’s been stealing my entire closet.”

“i didn’t !”

“was boutta make me walk around naked, ya moron. all my clothes are gone.” you roll your eyes, he never lacked in the dramatics department.

“you’re such a drama queen.” you whine, sinking into his comforter. he ignores you and he presses your cheeks together with one hand, chuckling at your smooched cheeks and furrowed brows.

“stop stealing my stuff.” he announces slowly. he’s clear, no way you could’ve misunderstood him anyway. he sighs and presses a quick peck to your lips still pressed together

“if you want one of my sweaters r’something, jus’ come ask me. can give you one..or whatever.” he finishes, voice slightly muffled in embarrassment as he shoves his mouth against yours again and again making wet kissing sounds and you manage a giggle. he rolls his eyes, but a smile slowly crawls up his face anyway as he releases your cheeks. you let out a happy sigh, opening and closing your mouth to get rid of the slight soreness.

“take this shit off though.” he tugs at the hoodie you’re wearing “stinks. need to put it in the wash.”

“no it doesn’t !” you protest, pressing the color against your nose in an attempt to keep it close to you “it smells like you!” you pout. he doesn’t respond for a bit, opting to squint at you while the tips of his ears turned pink. and in a second his snatched the bottom of it and ripped it off of you, ripping a pathetic scream from you.

he examined his hoodie with an unreadable expression before his eyes land back on you for a second, then he slowly starts folding up his sweater “you trynna say i stink ?” he says lowly.

“no. i wouldn’t wear your clothes if they were nasty” you scrunch up your nose “you can take back the sweater in my room, though. the smell is starting to wear off.”

“gee, thanks for offering to give me my sweater back. weirdo” he glares, spitting his words out sarcastically and you giggle at his extra emphasis on his ownership of the hoodie which earns you a huff.

“ i’m grabbing all the shit you took from me, and they stay with me.” he starts warningly “but you can keep this, i guess..” he adds, patting on his now folded hoodie ready for a cleaning. you smile happily, running your socked feet into his blankets.

“ oh, but don’t forget to wear it first after you washed it, want it to smell like you. otherwise there’s no point.”

“you really are a fucking weirdo.” he spits, but the way his cheeks burn bright red say he’s not truly mad about it. you laugh, and katsuki grumbles. “hope you learned your lesson, freak.” he taunts. you hum in fake thought, then release a sigh.

“yeah, i guess i did.” you concede, and he nods proudly.

and sure, yeah, you’re boyfriend’s a big meanie. but you do a great job at riling him up.

“for now.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Whiskey, Neat - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: snowstorm, bartender!Simon, tattooed!Simon, anonymous sex, sex w/ a condom, getting over a breakup, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, praise, alcohol

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: For Kinkmas 2024 (Anonymous Sex)

Caught in a snowstorm, you stop in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Drowning your time at the bar across the street from your motel, you find a little heat during the cold weather.

ao3 // main masterlist // kinkmas 2024 masterlist

“Another?”

You glance away from the television screen above the bar and meet brown eyes that are the same color as the drop of whiskey lingering in the bottom of your glass.

The bartender you lock gazes with places the open whiskey bottle on top of the bar. “This one is on the house.”

Arching an eyebrow, you observe the empty bar around you before answering. “I’m your only customer.”

The bartender shrugs. “It’s Christmas Eve. Feeling generous.”

More like there isn’t anyone else to make conversation with. Inside, it’s warm—almost toasty. The two television screens above the bar play old movies—the sound off but closed captions on. Around the ceiling dangle multi-colored lights that probably belong on a tree and not hanging in a bar.

You gently move your empty glass in the bartender’s direction. Lifting the bottle, he tops you off.

His name is unknown to you—his real name that is. Ghost is what he offered when you first sat down on a stool to drown your sorrows. Not only do you not know his real name, but half of his face is covered in a black half-balaclava. All you can see are his brown eyes and blondish-brown hair. There are tattoos—that much you know. The backs of his hands and fingers are covered in them, disappearing beneath the forest green knit sweater he wears.

It’s bizarre, but you haven’t said anything. Why should you? This is his establishment. You’re just a customer.

“Want me to leave the bottle?” asks Ghost.

Yes, is what you want to say.

The last few days have been fucking miserable. First, you found out that your boyfriend of three years was cheating on you. After dumping his ass and sending him packing, you had to promptly jump in your car and head out for the holidays, knowing you’d have to explain to your family why you came without him.

Then you hit a snow storm.

It was so light at first—just a dusting. But it quickly turned south, and now you’re stuck in this tiny fucking town in the middle of fucking nowhere with hardly any cell service.

“Better not,” you reply. “I need to be able to walk to the motel.”

Ghost cocks an eyebrow, his gaze momentarily turning toward the large window near the door. You follow his line of sight and almost flinch. The wind howls, occasionally rattling the window. Snow comes down in thick sheets. You can see the light from the streetlight across the street but not much else.

“Right,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“And what about you?” you retort. “How are you getting home in this?”

Ghost crosses his arms over his chest. It’s not a threatening stance. He’s completely amused by you. A sudden rush of heat warms the back of your neck and sinks straight to your toes before curling upward to seize your core.

Get a fucking grip.

“I’ll sleep here.”

“You’ll—here? At the bar?”

“There’s a pretty comfortable sofa in my office,” he says casually. “Has a pull-out bed. Helps on these…late nights.”

Jesus Christ.

Your pussy is wet, nearly throbbing. It’s fucking insane. Ridiculous. You broke up with your ex not even two days ago. What the fuck is going on with you?

“But there must be someone at home who might worry?”

Ghost snorts. “Maybe my cat.” He rolls up his sleeves to mid-forearm, revealing more tattoos. The man is fucking covered. “What about you?”

Single. The man is single and asking if there’s anyone who might be missing you.

You down the rest of your whiskey. “Only family. They know I’m delayed.” He nods, and you continue before you lose your nerve. “I just broke it off with my boyfriend of three years.”

Ghost straightens a bit, his gaze intense. “Can I ask why?”

“He cheated. A lot.” All the emotions from that moment begin to stir. The whiskey might have chased away some of the ache, but not all.

“Sounds like a bloody fucking fool,” replies Ghost. “Letting something like you go.”

You laugh. “You hardly know me.”

“And you hardly know me,” he purrs.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Feeling bold, you venture forward. “It’s storming pretty hard out there.”

“It is,” agrees Ghost. “The sofa has room for two.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” you tease.

Ghost takes your empty glass and places it in the sink behind the bar. “Don’t think anyone else is coming in.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

Ghost comes around the side of the bar, a set of keys in his hand. He leisurely heads for the door, locking up. Pocketing the keys, he saunters back to you, confidence in every step.

Placing his tattooed hand on the bar top, Ghost leans in. “You can go if you want.”

“And if I want to stay?”

His other hand finds the side of your throat, he draws you in until your faces are nearly touching. “Then let’s help you get over that ex of yours, yeah?”

Oh my God.

You don’t remember getting off the stool or the walk back to his office. All you remember are Ghost’s hands and the way he leads you. He’s not pushy—simply confident and eager.

The two of you collapse onto the sofa as Ghosts hands immediately go for your thighs and hips. With the door shut, it’s dark in the office, the both of you mere shadows. The small window in the ceiling provides little light—most of it is covered in snow.

Even in the dark, your gazes are locked. You sense his heat—sense his desire. His touches are languid and unhurried. Savoring. But touching isn’t enough. You need to kiss him, to feel his lips against yours.

It’s a small test, and Ghost surrenders, allowing you to remove the balaclava. Even then, you cannot discern the details of him. Not really. You gently trace his bottom lip, and his mouth opens, the tip of his tongue swiping against your skin.

You lean in until your noses brush, mouths moments from touching, but you do not close the distance. His scent invades you, filling your lungs as the whiskey burns in your veins. It is Ghost’s growl that draws you forward—that brings your mouths together.

There is not one kiss but many. Each one is a claiming—an eraser of your ex from your mind and body. Your fingers tug at Ghost’s clothes, wanting him to be free of them—to feel his skin against yours.

His answer is to respond in kind, and between the kisses, clothes disappear until there is nothing between your bodies.

Ghost’s palms squeeze your ass and your pussy clenches. You inhale sharply, and Ghost uses this moment to break away from your stinging lips to fall upon your neck, sucking and biting as his hands roam upward to play with your breasts.

Ghost hums softly against your throat. He works a nipple to a stiff peak. Once done, Ghost dips his head and swipes his tongue over it. Your back arches, hips rocking against him in desperation, his hard cock poking your thigh.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, hand descending to move between your legs, finding your clit.

He rubs at it gently and your breath hitches. Ghost explores, fingers moving further between to part you, finding you slick and wanton.

The next inhalation is his as he slowly eases one thick finger into your pussy. Your body immediately clenches around him. Ghost starts to pump his finger in and out of your pussy. His palm presses against your clit, rubbing up against it every time his hand flexes with the thrust of his finger.

The sensation of his finger sliding in and out of you is fucking perfect but it’s not enough to get you where you need to go. You want this man to dick you so good you won’t want to run back to your ex afterward.

“I’m going to taste you here now,” groans Ghost against your mouth. He emphasizes his meaning with an insertion of a second finger.

You have a moment to catch your breath before Ghost pushes you onto your back and drapes your legs over his shoulders.

Starting at your clit, Ghost swirls his tongue around it before tracing a path downward, leaving nothing untouched. With thighs spread, you’re completely open to him. An orgasm is rapidly building.

While your hips jerk against his hold, Ghost keeps you in place. He is setting the pace here—and you are at his mercy. Ghost’s tongue rotates in quick circles inside your pussy before retreating to trace the folds of your labia, and then sliding up to flick against your clit.

With his tongue on your clit, his finger presses against the entrance of your pussy before slipping in. Your body gives in easily, sucking his finger in until you take him to the knuckle. Ghost sucks your clit into his mouth as he begins to pump his finger.

You cry out, the orgasm ascending quickly. Moans of pleasure fill the room, and then you’re whimpering as Ghost continues to fuck you with his fingers and lick at your clit. The orgasm rolls into another, and it isn’t until you’re shuddering with overstimulation that Ghost retreats.

There is a moment of rest before his hand is around your throat, bringing your lips to his so that he can claim your mouth. You taste yourself as much as you taste him.

“I’m going to fuck any thoughts of your ex right out of that pretty head,” he murmurs.

Ghost eases you back onto the sofa. The hand at your throat lingers a moment before slowly sliding down between your breasts and over your stomach.

You hear the distinct sound of a condom wrapper. Ghost grunts and then his shadow moves, settling over you. With legs still spread wide, Ghost rests his cock against your sex. Your pussy pulses in anticipation.

He settles between your thighs, the head of his cock lining up and then slowly sinking in. You moan loudly as you’re stretched deliciously.

“You can take it,” he coos. “That’s it, love. Doing so well.”

More of him slides inside, your pussy fluttering—flexing—attempting to accommodate him. Ghost thrusts shallowly, retreating a bit before trying again. This time, your pussy accepts him greedily, the both of your groaning as he sinks to the hilt.

He takes control instantly. Each thrust is fluid and sharp, a pounding thing that drives you into the sofa. Your arms lace around the back of his neck, and Ghost’s face buries itself against the side of your throat.

“Feel so good,” groans Ghost. “Fucking perfect.”

One arm is braced up, hand firm on the edge of the sofa, fingers digging in for leverage. His other arm rests at your side, almost like a hug. You’re trapped beneath him, but it’s utterly delicious.

The room fills with the sounds of your slick pussy taking him. Each grunt and gasp of Ghost’s is hot against your skin. You cling to him, murmuring nonsense as he fucks you senseless.

You forget about the snow, about your shitty ex, and about the fact that you likely won’t make it to your family’s on time. This is a small town after all. They likely won’t clean the roads for days.

It means you can stay right here.

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[translatemunson]

save the date

top gun pilots x female!reader blurb cw: mentions of a dress. i believe this can be read as any of the daggers, minus nat (i'm writing something special just for our girl); lmk if i forgot anything.

You’ve gotten the ‘save the date’ months ago. The invitation only came through the mail a few weeks back, but it was 100% set in stone: you were attending your best friend’s wedding with your aviator boyfriend as your plus one. What you forgot to take into consideration was deployment.

It was like playing in a casino: you could get lucky and he wouldn’t be called for a mission until the wedding, or he would be god knows where doing whatever mission the Navy had for him, and you’d be missing him during the wedding.

And since you were never the luckiest person in the room, he got deployed. For six weeks. One month before the wedding date. Good luck telling all your friends you didn’t get dumped, it was just that your boyfriend was government property and they needed him overseas doing some good for the country. It was honorable, but still: you wanted to walk around the venue with a pretty aviator by your side.

It didn’t help that his internet access was limited, nor that you were having second thoughts about attending. Well, if not having someone with you was a problem, he told you he could get one of his friends to take care of you — just so other guys wouldn’t take a chance on his hot girlfriend. But it wasn’t just the lack of your boyfriend that was undermining your presence at the wedding.

One week the dress wasn’t good enough. The next one, just before his deployment, you weren’t sure about the tickets and hotel you booked — he said to keep them, even if he wasn’t going anymore, because you could use the extra space on the plane and the bigger bed. Your first email to him, while deployed, was about how nerve wrecked you were feeling now that your bestie asked you to do a speech. A few days later, you went through it with him, and he reassured you were doing amazing. 

“Gosh, this would be so much easier if you were here,” you admitted on your phone call.

“I know, baby. I promise to take you to a fancy event as soon as I’m back so I can have the chance to see you in that pretty dress.” He was trying his best to cheer you up.

But a phone call across the ocean wasn’t enough. You needed him there, with you, saying you look pretty even though your make up is nowhere near as done. Or telling you look like those old Hollywood stars when your hair was still on the hair curlers. Or saying you need to hurry up before it’s too late to get a nice parking spot at the venue. Or checking if you need a drink or something else during the reception.

You looked down at your phone, hitting “send” on another email, with pictures you took from the party. The whole place is covered with flowers and fairy lights hanging from the trees and ceiling, and you miss him so much it hurts more than your high heels.

You gave your speech minutes ago, and had one of your friends filming it for you. It was a nice piece about your best friend, how she was always the one saying you were gonna be married first but hey, look at you, alone at her wedding. Of course you made fun of the lack of a plus one, but it was fine. You brought back a few embarrassing memories, also spilled some tea on the fact that she had a list with the names for all of their babies. And if one of those names was not inspired by yours, you would be seeing her in court.

“Hey, do you wanna grab another drink with me?” Your friend nudged your arm. “I hate seeing you down.”

“Can you call the Navy and file an official complaint for me? I’ll give you his full name and call sign, so then later I can show up to the courtroom and use those as proof.” You threw your cell phone inside your bag. “Sorry, I’ve been under the weather since the news broke.”

“I know, babe, and I don’t blame you.” She gave you a soft smile. “I think a drink might help you. And maybe I can convince that waiter I’ve told you about to sneak a few sweets for us.”

“Just one more drink, then I’m going back to the hotel.”

“You’re no fun, you know? Maybe something good is happening tonight.”

“Unless you have a teletransportation machine here somewhere to bring me my boyfriend, you can’t trap me for another hour with the promise of good booze alone.”

At the bar, you got yourself your favorite drink. It would be better if he was there, his hand on your waist, making comments about the party or asking you the little details about the people there. It would be his first time in your hometown, getting to know the place you were born and raised. You loved San Diego, but a piece of you would always love your hometown.

“I just wished they had decent Wi-Fi at the ship,” you murmured. “I’ve sent like a hundred pics since I’ve arrived, but still no reply. I can’t believe my own boyfriend is going MIA on me.”

“Hey, maybe it’s just bad connection. And based on what you’ve told me, I bet he’s pissed he’s somewhere in the ocean instead of by the side of his gorgeous girlfriend.”

“Please plan a wedding in the next few weeks so I can attend one with him.”

“Why don’t you plan your own wedding?” She turned the idea around.

“And throw a surprise wedding? I’m crazy, but even I have limits.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t take him too many deployments to pop the big question.”

“I might have to ask him to divorce the Navy before we can get married. Sorry, but I won’t be the mistress in this,” you laughed.

Halfway through your drink, your friend ended up going to talk to one of your colleagues from high school, and you went back to your table, staying up and trying to swing your body in the rhythm of the song — just to get your mind off of things.

You checked your phone, one notification from your email’s app. You clicked on it as fast as you could, blowing out in frustration when you saw it was just a marketing email.

You saw someone approaching from your peripheral vision, and you heard “Tough night?”

“Don’t even get me started.” You pushed your face into your hand.

“Try me, honey.”

You turned your face. And, magically, your boyfriend was there. You blinked a few times, not believing he was really sitting next to you, in a suit. You held tight into his arm, and he said “Did she let you have way too many drinks?”

“No. I mean, are you real?”

“Yes, baby, I’m real.”

“How?”

“Finished the mission early, called in for a few favors, got on the first plane here, and asked your friends to keep it a secret.”

“Oh my, you’re really here.” You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. The last time you were this close, it was the morning before his deployment. You always took the days up to the deployment as a chance to spend all the time together. Ok, you had to work, and the house chores wouldn’t magically disappear, but as soon as you were both at home, you’d stick to his side as glue.

“Sorry I missed your speech,” he hugged you back. “I’ll watch the footage later.”

“That’s ok. I’m so happy that you’re here,” you kissed his cheek.

“C’mon, let me take a look at my stunning girlfriend,” he took a step back and, with your hand in his, made you spin on your toes. The flowy dress and high heels were far from your daily clothes. “You look better than in the pictures, honey.”

Your cheeks blushed, and you could bet even the make up wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Thanks.” You took a look at him, finally noticing how good he looked in a normal suit. The color suited him like a glove, and you were considering finding a good excuse to see him wearing it again. You kinda begged him to attend in those pretty white suits the Navy had, but he was always saying those were only for special occasions.

“Should we take a picture?” He rested his hands on your waist.

“Sure!”

Now that you officially had your arm candy with you, it was time to walk around the party introducing your boyfriend to your friends. They were all very friendly and excited to meet him, but also kept the Navy related questions to a minimum. He was all smiles and handsy, keeping you close to him as much as possible.

You got your picture, on the balcony, with the gardens as a background to your affection. Your friend convinced one of the photographers to take a few official pictures — she used the “He’s Navy and flew all the way here to be with her!” card. On the first pic, you were close, side by side, smiling but keeping your hands to yourself.

And then the photographer asked you to look each other in the eyes, and it was like your lips had a magnet of some sorts. He pulled you closer, and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. “Hold her like that!” the photographer said.

Once you had the pictures taken also on our phone, he took you to the dance floor. A slow song, something your parents would play in the car when you were younger, was telling the steps you were taking. Swaying slowly in the middle of the small crowd, soaking in that moment. You snuggled in closer to his chest, leaving him to lead you. 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” you confessed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything before.” He pressed his lips on the side of your head.

“That’s ok. You know I like surprises when they come from you.”

“I know. And I like being with you.” Another kiss on the side of your face. “And I love you.”

You  tilted your head back, connecting your eyes, “I love you too."

[terrythemerry]

I just watched Wish (2023) and it made me realize something kind of sad about Disney’s treatment of villains.

So Disney has a long history of villainy from the OG Evil Queen who is willing to murder a girl just for being pretty to the misguided like Auto thinking he’s protecting humanity in Wall-E. They are mean, jealous, prideful, vain, and many relish in just being the worst of the worst. However every now and then we get a glimpse of more complexity. Zootopia’s Bellwether dealing with years of racism and mistreatment, Gantu trying to stop what he thinks is a monster in Lilo and Stitch, Up’s Muntz being a heroic explorer before paranoia consumed him, etc. The thing that makes me sad about these villains is that not one of them has ever had a chance at redemption or change in Disney’s eyes and nowhere is that sadder to me than their latest villain, King Magnifico.

(Spoilers below)

King Magnifico is the magical founder of a utopian society that accepts people of all races, religions, and backgrounds. Who created this wonderful place after what is heavily implied to be a violent invasion destroyed his homeland when he was but a child. This past trauma led him to study magic and become a powerful sorcerer so that nothing could hurt him or the people he cared about ever again. His magic is a protection that he extends to all who choose to live in the city. The city is vibrant with a colorful community full of artisans, musicians, and dancers. He takes no taxes from them, but does take their one true wish upon joining this society.

When given these wishes it is understood that he will ensure their safety and possibly grant them one day. Something important to note about the physical manifestations of the wishes is that they give off a warm and comforting aura as they represent some of the purest parts of a person’s soul. Magnifico has been surrounding himself with this magical comfort for a very very long time by himself and I don’t think it’s unfair to say he has become addicted to their presence. The wishes are giving him a magical comfort through the kind souls within them, a feeling he could’ve probably also gotten if he had spent more time with his people.

It doesn’t look like he ever really got the chance to commune with his people properly because somehow the society kicked off on his wish granting abilities. People had to give him their wishes if they wanted them granted and eventually the ones that he couldn’t grant in good conscience or out of fear started adding up so he began locking them away. Keeping them safe so no harm came to the people. The rare occasions that anyone else interacts with these wishes is during wish granting ceremonies that the people are borderline rabid for. With good reason, it is their souls they’re thirsting for after all even if they don’t really know it.

However, Magnifico clearly doesn’t see it that way. He sees it as he’s given these people a wonderful safe haven from the horrors of the outside world where they can be whoever they want to be, do what they want to do, make what they want to make, and still all they see in him is a tool to fastpass to something else they want even more than the peace he’s given them.

This is clearly shown early on, before any of his evil behavior starts to take root, in relation to his assistants. We get a expo dump after the first song telling us that Asha wants to become one of his assistant to increase the odds of her grandfather’s wish being granted as there is a correlation between past assistants and having wishes granted. Something important here is that there have clearly been many assistants, suggesting that it’s a revolving door position without really explaining why. Who would want to keep finding assistants over and over again, when really you should find someone who could do the job long term right? Well we get to find out the likely reason when Asha steps up for the role.

When Asha comes to interview for his assistant position he sees she is nervous, he tries to calm her down, and he even manages to relate to her through fond memories of her kindly father who he clearly knew. After seeing her true resolve to do good he decides to trust her with something few people in the entire kingdom get to see, the vault of wishes. To which Asha doesn’t even hesitate to ask, after politely being told not to prior, if he’ll grant her grandfather’s wish.

Magnifico is blatantly stricken by her request, sadly remarking that most people at least wait a few months before doing so a.k.a pretend to be interested in helping him rather than trying to use him to grant a wish. This is likely why the assistant job is a revolving door. Magnifico tries to find someone who he thinks will truly and selflessly fulfill the role only to discover time and again that people are just using it to get direct access to him to ask for a wish. Then he can’t trust their true intentions anymore and moves them along.

After Asha makes her request he does take the time to look at her grandfather’s wish but dismisses it as too dangerous because it is the vague desire to inspire the next generation. Clearly we as the audience know that her grandfather means to inspire them to do good, but we have to remember Magnifico has seen the worst of society. He has seen the darkest wishes and desires of mankind and survived them. He brushes Asha off telling her she’s too young to understand, which is honestly true. She’s lived her entire life cloistered in peace and comfort thanks to him and the rules he has made. She has never had to know war, strife, or hardship thanks to him, yet she doubts his decision without understanding the trauma that guides it. This is what I believe pushes Magnifico into his villain arc, something that I don’t think we’ve ever really witnessed in a Disney movie.

Usually a villain already is the villain by the time the film rolls around, even the twist villains. Lotso had already been deliberately sentencing other toys to torture. Prince Hans was already planning to murder his way to a throne. Evelyn was already plotting her revenge. Magnifico wasn’t though. He was the hero. He had saved his wife and a whole city’s worth of people from whatever drove them from the mainlands. He wasn’t physically abusing/mistreating people like Gaston even if he was vainly basking in their adoration.

When Asha pushes him on the wishes he pulls back from her, identifying her in his mind as a threat and treats her as one. He dismisses her and tells her that her family’s wishes will never be granted by him, but he will still keep them safe as he has been doing. Essentially meaning nothing will change for her from what it has been. You know a happy loving existence of complete acceptance and wholesome family life or as Asha interprets it, a fate worse than death.

His interaction with Asha triggers him, as she’s pushed at the flaws in his reasoning for holding onto the wishes. The flaws are true, but his mind is clouded by fear of a lack of control, likely stemming from the horrors he witnessed in his childhood when he had no control. He also likely has a bit of an addiction to the warm fuzzies that the wishes give on top of his fears. While he’s ruminating on that some massive wave of magic blows through the kingdom and messes with the thing he’s already stressed beyond reason about, the wishes.

Magnifico frantically searches for any answer, even considering a dangerous tome of forbidden magic that he knows is trouble before his wife manages to talk him down.

The fact that he could even be talked down rather than ignoring her outright shows that Magnifico does have good in him. He’s just reacting out of a genuine panic. His panic is only worsened by huge mob continuing to beg him for wishes in exchange for doing what should be the selfless act of defending their kingdom from what is essentially perceived as an attack. Not having any faith left in his people he turns back to the evil book to give him the key to stopping this perceived attack.

Just to be clear King Magnifico goes to the big bad evil book not to gain more power for funsies, but to try to find a way to stop a perceived threat. Everything he does from this point on, such as threatening his wife, can no longer be fairly tied to him, because as the movie repeatedly tells us he is under the EVIL book’s influence. His wife even looks through the same book to try and see if there is a way to break the sway she knows it has over him, but says she can’t because the EVIL book said no.

Yada yada yada and Magnifico is sealed inside a magic mirror and smugly told to rot in the dungeon by his previously loving wife.

Seriously?! What the heck?! This guy was the perfect candidate for rehabilitation. He wasn’t flawless, but he wasn’t a murderous psycho like most of the other Disney villains. Disney loves to preach kindness, acceptance, and good will with their heroes, but never does it allow the message of change.

I was shocked going back through the catalogue and slowly realizing none of their villains, regardless of how tragic their origins are, are ever truly allowed a second chance. The hero may offer it, but the baddy never is truly expected to change or reform. Which is honestly super messed up to me. People make mistakes. Some can be small/insignificant, but some are big and do hurt people sometimes. That doesn’t mean they can’t change for the better.

Now I’m not saying every villain is redeemable or good, it’s just a bit surprising that for all the messages of kindness and acceptance we haven’t really gotten forgiveness in 100 years. Seeing the “bad guy’s punishment” just deeply bothered me this time. Probably because so much of the bad that Magnifico does is clearly a trauma response and as a punishment for not acting appropriately to said response he gets sentenced to eternity is magical cell.

[king-craftsman]

Fall From Grace

Dean Winchester scarfed down the last of his burger as he eyed the muttering student that walked by him. The last thing he wanted to do was research and so he quickly found one of the best diners in Baltimore. With the student gone, he was the only one remaining in the place, and for a moment he was almost worried every other person in here was a demon.

Ever since he came in and started enjoying his typical meal of burgers, fries, and pie as dessert, every single inside left. Everyone's besides him and the scoffing suited man who was wiping down the newly absent tables. Thankful for the quiet, Dean raised his feet, letting them sit on the table as he sat back and continued eating. 

“Excuse me, could you please take your feet off the table?” asked the stranger, clearly the owne

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a minute and I’ll be outta here,” scoffed Dean, rolling his eyes. He continued stuffing his face with the last of his food as his boots remained on the table Who was this guy even trying to impress? There was nobody else here! 

“Fine, can you please at least try to talk without your mouth full?” questioned the stranger. Dean simply glared at him, still eating. “It’s quite rude.” 

“Whatever,” replied Dean without even thinking, crumbs spilled from his full mouth as he spoke. “I’m about to leave this dump anyway.” That was it, the stranger crossed his arms and looked down at Dean. If the Winchester was smart he would have perhaps been a bit more privy about the man’s odd nature to the smarter Sam. Maybe he would have been smart enough to note how suspicious this all was - how a suited man was cleaning a diner all by himself, how this place seemed to pop out of nowhere only to garner great reviews and why this man’s eyes suddenly started glowing. 

“I don’t think so. You’ve been rude to me and driven away my customers. I think it’s time for a change in that attitude,” spoke the man. 

“Look I’m leaving anyway and I don’t-” started Dean as he stood up glaring at the man. But instantly his face began to fall slack, his frowning lips beginning to separate slightly as his furrowed brows eased. His eyes stared into the glowing eyes of the suited man and suddenly it felt so hard to move and-

“So hard to think, isn’t it?” said the man. “Just stare into my eyes, that’s it...just focus on them and let yourself just start to relax.” 

“Wha…” Dean instinctively reached for a weapon but he felt that he didn’t need to. He simply needed to relax and his arms were the next to fall slack, as he started to feel himself drop back in the diner seat. 

“That’s right...and in a moment you’ll just want to sleep, just keep staring, just relax…” instructed the man. Dean could feel the voice booming in the back of his mind, it echoed all around him and it just made it so much harder to ignore. Even as his vision blurred, all he could see were those hypnotic glowing orbs, almost turning into spirals as he just leaned back, relaxing further and further. “Sleep.”

The man snapped his fingers.

The sound seemed to boom and with that Dean felt himself slip into the sweet abyss of slumber. 

He didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, all he could make out was a low voice, whispering from the darkness. 

“Now you will follow all my suggestions whenever I snap my fingers, do you understand?”

Dean said nothing, but in his mind he knew that he had to follow all the man’s suggestions whenever he snapped his fingers. Anything from service to something as simple as-

“Wake up!” 

Dean instantly got up, eyes opening suddenly as he looked around to see himself in a dressing room, large wardrobes encompassed the walls filled with formal attire. He glanced around to see the man still standing over him, arms crossed. For a moment he wanted to say something, but his mind drew a blank, everything was foggy and he couldn’t even remember what just happened for the past hour. 

“What the- Where am I?” cried Dean. The Winchester instantly bolted up, ready to tackle the man if he needed to. 

“Stay standing there” spoke the man, the same snap of the fingers boomed in Dean’s mind and he found his body moving automatically. He nodded with wide eyes as his body stiffened in place. His feet felt so heavy and he couldn’t even take a step if he wanted to...and oddly enough he didn’t really want to.

“Start taking off your clothes.” 

“Yeah,” uttered Dean, blinking as he looked down at himself, surprised as to why he suddenly spoke affirmatively. But he was more surprised to find his hands beginning to unbutton his flannel shirt. “What am I doing? Stop this!” He had dealt with powerful magical before, but nothing that made him feel so...powerless, not even possession. 

“Every piece of clothing you strip, strips away a part of yourself, all those messy rude habits you have,” spoke the man, snapping his fingers again as Dean couldn’t help but nod, no matter how much he clenched his jaw and tried to stop. He stripped out of his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. It disappeared out of sight, and soon out of mind, much like his habit. “You won’t ever speak with your mouth full.” The fingers snapped. 

“I won’t ever speak with my mouth full,” repeated Dean. He wouldn’t, that was messy, rude, a bad habit that he had to stop. Dean blinked, this wasn’t him...or was it? He could hardly tell anymore with how hazy and fractured he felt as he began working on taking off his shoes and socks. 

“You won’t put your feet up on the table.”

Snap. 

“I won’t ever put my feet up on the table,” said Dean. He had to figure some way out of here, but his body wasn’t his to control and neither was his mind. But then again was it so bad...most people would take the chance to hurt him, surely this man was just helping get rid of those nasty habits of his. This man was here to help, thought Dean as he stripped out of his jeans. 

“You will not be rude to others.”

Snap. 

“I will not be rude to others,” replied Dean, instantly beginning to feel guilty for the way he was acting. He was loud, brash and annoying, ruining the day for the other diners. Dean reminded himself that needed to stop being so rude as he stripped out of his underwear, freeing his hard thick cock. Dean didn’t understand why he was getting so turned on, but his heart raced as that nagging shouting in the back of his mind telling him to stop, to get out, to call Sam or do anything, grew quieter with every passing moment. 

“Very good Dean,” said the man. Dean barely flinched at the man knowing his name. “Now that we’ve gotten rid of some of your bad habits. We need to add some good ones. So you see that nice suit over there? Why don’t you put that on. Every article of clothing you put on, will turn you into the new you!”

Snap came the fingers and Dean instantly nodded as he began walking over to see a perfectly measured suit and bowtie. He began suiting up and each article changed a part of him. The underwear was first.

“You will speak politely and courteously, no more of that rough southern drawl of yours.”

Snap.

“I will speak politely and courteously…” Dean barely had the energy to finish as his voice changed, beginning to sound more like someone who grew up in Washington than Kansas. He began to put on the shirt. 

“You will treat others with respect. In fact you’ll get a job at my prestigious private club as a bartender,” commanded the man, snapping his fingers. Dean nodded, suddenly the images of rough bars with plenty of whiskey was replaced with upscale high end clubs with suited men like him serving drinks. It was the perfect place for Dean Winchester to start serving his superiors with the respect they deserved. 

“Yes, respect...new job…” murmured Dean, blinking slightly as all memory and desire of being a hunter, dealing with the supernatural, all of it sunk to the back of the mind, growing quiet forever. He could never have a rough job like that, he thought as he arranged his new cufflinks and placed on the suit jacket. 

“You will want to be more sexual, showing off your toned body and serving your superiors the right way. But of course you can’t have any tattoos or scars defacing a gentleman like you.”

Snap.

Dean’s skin began to be washed over, his classic anti possession tattoo fading away like his old self as he groaned slightly. His cock throbbed as he felt his already impressive set of six packs abs tighten, his chest grew slightly broader, allowing for his pecs to be larger. His quads grew, expanding slightly as his biceps did the same. Somehow Dean’s body grew more impressive and better than the active hunter already was. 

“Serving superiors the right way…” droned Dean, as he began to put on the pants, the garter socks and the shiny polished shoes, a set of suggestions lined up and ready to take over Dean’s mind like a tidal wave.

“You are horny for men, loving them. You are also a skilled stripper, as my club and I cater to that kind of audience. Finally, you will forget about your previous life, you will simply Dean Winchester, a dignified gentleman.”

The last snap and Dean suddenly heard himself moan out loud, blushing slightly for such undignified behaviour, but he was sure his superior would understand as his new personality settled in. Dean looked at himself, admiring the view in the mirror as the suit perfectly fit his muscular frame.

“Yes…” said Dean. He pursed his lips, fixing his bowtie. 

“How do you feel Dean?” asked the man. “Do you feel any different? Do you like hunting or eating in diners?

Dean studied himself, for a moment he didn’t recognise himself before he looked at the reflection up and down. 

“No I’d hate that. I’d rather just start getting a job and focusing on being the best server I can be,” said Dean, speaking eloquently and brushing down his suit. He needed it prim and perfect. 

“Very good, I think I could find a position for you. Sit down. Tell me about yourself, Dean,” said the man. Dean did as he was instructed. 

“I grew up quite poor but managed to work hard in school, went to an Ivy League college and studied my best to follow my passions and be the best person I could be. Now I’m here, looking for a new job and new people to serve, all my jobs have been like that, it’s just something I feel I was meant to do,” explained Dean, not missing a beat.

He smiled, remembering his (new) life well, and all the experiences that came with learning proper discipline and the ways hot gentlemen like him are meant to behave.

“Very good. You’ve done well Dean and I feel like you’ve earned a reward. Come.”

Snap. 

Dean Winchester grabbed his crotch as he moaned out loud, wracked with pleasure. The only thing he could think was that besides ruining his suit and how wrong it was to act so inappropriately, it was the best he ever felt, and he would do anything for more of his reward. 

The next few days Dean’s life had changed drastically, the man drained his account to rent an apartment and buy expensive formal attire. He needed a job, not just for the money, but because it was what he was meant to do, and found himself being signed on as both bartender and stripper for one of the most prestigious clubs in the city. The new Winchester was a better one, at least that’s how Dean, and his new superior found it. 

He ignored his brother’s calls, deciding he would introduce him to the suited man another time, for now Dean felt himself putting on his own suit, smiling at his new self, excited and for good reason. 

Tonight was his first shift.

He knew now that anybody acting so brash and rudely around him would think twice about it, otherwise they’d find themselves like Dean where justice is served. 

If you would like to read more stories like this, then click here and check out 100+ explicit TF stories!

[aloysiavirgata]

Title: Nine Crimes

Author: Aloysia Virgata

Rating: Explicit

Category: MSR

Timeline: Pilot

Summary: For the anon prompt “Pilot Sex”

Notes: Thanks to @slippinmickeys for the feedback

***

It's the wrong time

She's pulling me through

It's a small crime

And I got no excuse

Damien Rice, 9 Crimes

***

A shabby motel, shabbier than the one that went up in flames. It’s made of concrete and third mortgage paperwork and the abandoned dreams of a better life.

Mulder paid the hundred bucks in quiet cash, the same way he’d bought them new clothes and toiletries at WalMart. Let Dr. Scully think he’d get reimbursed. Let Dr. Scully take her little notes.

***

His new partner looks frayed around the edges, even with her square shoulders and her Stanford pedigree. She’s filled with potential, but incomplete and unsure of her place in the world, even rewriting Einstein. Even with her serious brown-washed hair and her serious oversized suits and her serious Thom McAn heels, she’s green as it gets. He knows about the freckles under her drugstore foundation, that she’s a second daughter. A third child.

He knows about Jack Willis. He knows about Daniel Waterston.

He knows she has a body like Collier’s Godiva.

“An orangutan,” she’d said, prim. Laughed openly at his ideas even though he’s still something of a legend at the Academy.

Mulder has a type and Dana Scully’s nowhere near it, but damn if he doesn’t like her mettle.

***

It’s two by the village clock, storming again, branches scraping against the windows. He’s awake and restless and what was going on in the woods, what was-

A knock at the door. He says “Scully” as he opens it without even checking. Pajama pants and nothing else but he opens it without checking.

She’s in his room all at once, lush as a Frederic Leighton painting even in tacky WalMart sleepwear.

The cheap hollow-paneled door slams behind her and she says “Mulder, I-“

Scully blinks.

“I’m sorry. I knew you were awake, I knew somehow, but do you want to get dressed or-”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

She blushes hot at that, but doesn’t leave.

Mulder slouches against the wall, arms crossed. “So. What’s up, buttercup?”

Scully looks around for a chair, but there’s only the sagging full sized bed. Is there a chair in her room? Should they move there? He decides not to ask. He likes her on his turf.

“Can I sit?”

He gestures at the bed. “Mi dump es tu dump. However, I must remind you, this goes against the Bureau's policy of male and female agents consorting in the same motel room while on assignment.”

Scully looks mortified, then realizes he’s joking. She perches on the edge of the bed, hands splayed across her narrow thighs. She isn’t wearing a bra.

“Is it always like this?” Scully asks, looking up at him. “Is this my life now? Stolen corpses and hotel fires?”

Mulder sighs. He crosses the small room to sit next to her. He can feel the heat of her red-gold body against his bare skin. Outside, the rattle of hail.

“That’s the fun part. I mean, it’s not always like any one thing. It’s stolen corpses and hotel fires until it’s missing children and government facilities and…” he trails off, weary.

“Little green men?” Scully asks, with perfect innocence.

Mulder looks at her fully for a moment, then laughs. He’s not unaware of his own mythos, and full marks to little Dr. Scully for clearly not being intimidated by it.

“Yeah,” he says. “That would be an example. Hey, they still saying I caught Monty Props with a ouija board?”

She tilts her head. “I’ve heard ouija board, I’ve heard Bigfoot.”

Mulder can’t help himself. “What else? Since you’re a spy.”

A smirk. “Agent Mulder, are you asking me to gossip?”

“Shamelessly.”

She smiles wide then, eyes crinkled at the corners and brightly blue as St. Elmo’s Fire, the perfect eyes for a sailor’s daughter.

“Well. Reckless of course. Brilliant. Problems with authority. Crazy, despite your assertions otherwise.”

“Boring. What’s the good stuff?”

A little shy now, her eyes dropping. “Obsessive. Paranoid. Self destructive.”

“All fair.”

“Womanizer.” Something in her eyes when she says it, a little heavy.

Mulder’s surprised she owned up to that one. Wants to know which particular women she’s heard about but decides to leave it alone for now. “Intriguing. And am I living up to expectations, broadly speaking?”

“Well, you’re obviously crazy.”

He chuckles. “Obviously. Paranoid?”

“Jury’s still out, but the fire is in your favor.”

“Womanizer?” he asks, a little purr in it, because she’s in a playful mood and because he’d like to hear her squirm out of it.

She just scoffs. “After I showed up in my underwear and then lounged chastely, unseduced? Alas, Mulder. I’m going to have a lot to debunk.”

“I’d hate to-”

Lightning so bright it feels audible, simultaneous thunder that shakes the building. The room goes black.

Scully yelps and he feels static between them; the strike must have been just feet away from the building.

He reaches for her and she’s covered in gooseflesh. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Jesus, I just…that was close.” Bit breathless.

Lightning again and a roar of thunder. Hail.

The dark is so complete it has a weight to it. “You want me to help you back to your room? You're two doors down, right?”

Silence.

“Scully, are you-“

“Can I stay?” she asks, just above a whisper. “Because of the storm, I just…”

Lightning. Thunder.

His hand cupped protectively - unconsciously- at the back of her neck and he says, “Of course.”

A tree just outside is struck, and for a fraction of a heartbeat he sees her white face, her big eyes, and-

Knew about Jack, Daniel, and still never expected her to make the first move. But she swivels under his palm, turns up to kiss him in the dark and he doesn’t protest.

Her mouth is hot and firm, tongue shifting wet sand at high tide. Scully’s thighs straddled over his suddenly, Scully’s tight ass in his hands under that pink polyester. God she’s little, she’s-

They cannot see in the felty dark, but he feels her pull that awful top off and her breasts are against his bare chest as she grinds herself against him.

Hail, wind, rain. Mulder bites at her tongue and she sighs.

He’s rock hard, fumbling at her nipples, her throat, her drawstring. Heat between her thighs, even with them both half-dressed. He breathes in the hot saltwater scent of her cunt.

Mulder wants to fuck her with his mouth, wants to suck her like boardwalk taffy in July until she’s melted and pliant but this isn’t that kind of night.

Lighting, thunder. Storm moving away.

Dr. Scully’s sharp claws at his back, Dr, Scully’s knees bruising his ribs.

The dark, the dark….

He raises his hips from the awful bed, scrapes his pants down his ass, his thighs. Cock painful as a fresh bruise.

She reaches down and it’s okay because they cannot see one another, okay because the hail and the winds swallow the noises they’re making.

His new partner, this is so fucked up even for him, but there isn’t any light so he groans again when she rubs herself against his cock.

“Mulder,” she hisses, nimble fingers wrapped around his shaft. “God.”

The storm a mile off now and his partner rises up so he can pull her bottoms off. Rises, her hard thighs and her impossible waist and her raspberry nipple in his mouth.

She wriggles free from her own pajamas, legs smooth and muscular and tight against him. The heady scent of her makes him twitch. Jack, Daniel.

Ethan.

He knows, too, about Ethan.

Drenched, in the bottomless night of the storm. Hot wet anonymous curls because there is no light and Agent Dr. Scully is gone and it’s just this lithe body against his and he bites her nipples hard again; left then right and she moans. Arches.

Lightning farther now and what the hell, he pushes two fingers between her thighs and into the sweet, melting nexus of her body. Dripping, slick, frictionless, his partner, this is so fucked up, this is -

She cries out, Agent Scully, with her good hard belly against his and her nipple in his mouth and her intoxicating scent soaking into his fingers.

The storm now five miles off.

“Please,” she begs. Her voice is cinnamon and silk.

He pushes his wet fingers into her mouth to silence her and thank god it’s dark still. She sucks at him without evident shame. His balls tighten.

“Possibly a womanizer,” Mulder mumbles into her fragrant neck. Working his other hand into the melting hot depths of her. “But clean. However, I don’t have a condom.”

“Pill,” she mumbles, clit rolling against his knuckle. “Please.”

Thank her forgiving god.

Graceless, groaning, Mulder pushes his cock into her waiting body. He cannot see her face but he can imagine it; those cheekbones and her blown-rose mouth. She is tight and searing and soaked and -

Scully makes a low noise, starts riding him like a dressage pony. Fucks him. Begs to no one particular and fucks him with her kidskin body.

The storm at six miles.

Scully, crying out. She arcs her back and he can only imagine her breasts now, swollen and rosy and sweet and so sensitive and -

“Mulder, Christ. Please…”

Mulder lets go. His sister and Ray and Peggy and Billy forgotten and he thrusts into her, into the black hole at the center of the Milky Way and the unknown and the nothingness. He comes into her with a fierce desperation and Scully sucks his earlobes and his mouth and his throat and she drenches him in her hot slip.

Low, flickering light. A distant rumble.

Nine miles.

They fuck again, urgent and silent, at the gray light of four AM. He comes into her like Uranus, making the world.

She goes to her room after that, never looking back.

They do not speak of it for years.

[neversetyoufree]

Looking back, I wonder how much of Vanitas's choice in this scene is tied to the fact that he was given a choice in the first place.

So much of Vanitas's character is centered around the theme of self-determination (and the lack thereof). He is absolutely deprived of any control over his body and/or destiny at many of the key points in his life, and nowadays he's always desperately grasping at what few shards of self-determination he does have. This is why he freaks out when Roland talks about him being "under the vampires' power" in mémoire 15. It's why he's hung up on the idea of freedom as isolation from others' influence. It's why his main response to being triggered is to do something crazy and cause a scene; it puts him in control of the situation.

All that to say, when Luna destroys Moreau's lab and agrees to take Misha away, Vanitas must be desperate to feel some form of in-control, but I do not think he expects to be given any choice in what happens to him next. He's been conditioned not to expect that despite how much he wants it.

Vanitas certainly doesn't have much agency in how he lives his life as a child, as no kid gets to pick their parents or circumstances, and Vani has it especially rough with the death of his mother hanging over his head. Then his father dies protecting him, and he dies in a situation in which Vanitas is utterly powerless. Horror erupts into his life out of nowhere, and his dad throws himself in front of some fangs, and there's nothing Vanitas can do but watch it happen.

Next there's Vanitas's brief time training as a chasseur, which is one part of his history we know little about, so it's hard for me to say how free his choice was. He may have been pressured into joining, as we know the Chassuers aren't above pushy/manipulative recruitment of children (Astolfo), but I could also see his choice to hunt vampires made as a trauma response to the powerlessness of the vampire attack he survived. "I was powerless, so I'll claim the power to enact violence and make sure they can't hurt me or others again."

Then Vanitas is abducted by Doctor Moreau, which strips him of his agency just about as awfully as anything possibly could.

Vanitas the test subject has no bodily autonomy. He is poked and prodded and experimented on, because his body is an object of science to Moreau, not the vessel of a person with rights or self-determination. His only big active choices during his captivity are the choice to not run away for fear of somebody else suffering and the choice to volunteer in Mikhail's place. The only choices he can make are the choices to stay and throw himself even deeper into his own violation. Even his relationship with Misha is something that just kind of Happens to him. The kid is a force of nature that Moreau dumps on him without his say.

(This isn't Mikhail's fault, as Misha is just a child that wants affection, but having a needy, vulnerable little brother figure suddenly dropped on him in the midst of all that horror couldn't have made Vanitas feel less out of control).

Then Vanitas's torment by Moreau hits its climax, and Vanitas is told that not only has his body been violated by way of pain and torture—even his basic humanity has been and will be stripped from him. He now feels the disgust of having the blood of something he hates inside of him without his consent. And he's about to be killed, turned into a mindless husk of a "living key" instead of a person.

And that's when Luna shows up. This mysterious, incredibly powerful being appears and wreaks havoc on Moreau's lab like an avenging angel, and it agrees to Mikhail's request to take "us" along with it. Everything in Vanitas's life so far has taught him that he is powerless in the face of others' great power. Horrible shit just keeps happening to him forever, and this monstrous person sounds like they've just agreed to carry him off on Mikhail's request without a word of input from him. Of course he doesn't expect to be given a choice.

But he is.

Luna scoops up Mikhail, then they turn to Vanitas and ask if he would like to come along with them as well. After months or years of absolutely all of his autonomy and power being stripped away from him, the most powerful being Vanitas has ever encountered stops and gives him a choice about what he'd like to do next. They give him the option to go off on his own and decide his own fate rather than go along with them. And that's why Vanitas doesn't run away.

These are the images that flash through Vanitas's head right before he gets up and runs to Luna:

These moments are what inform Vanitas's choice. The memories of his father's death and Moreau's final experiment on him—his two most awful moments of abject helplessness.

When Vanitas runs to Luna and accepts their offer, these moments are what he's running from. He's fleeing from his inability to do anything or control his fate. He's running from a life of stolen agency. He's running toward the one adult who actually stopped and gave him a choice about what he'd like to do next.

Vanitas chooses Luna because they, despite having the power to kill or subdue him, give him the freedom to choose to accompany them in the first place. He's drawn to them not for protection, but as an escape to a life where he gets to keep making choices and grasp some agency.

Luna is the savior that gives Vanitas his freedom and autonomy back after it's stolen by Moreau. That's why it's so tragic that Vanitas carries their Mark in the present day. It's undeniable proof that, in their right mind or not, some version of Luna violated the fundamental trust and gift of autonomy that brought Vanitas into their family in the first place.

Luna's bite, both the physical violation and the transformation into inhumanity that it brings, is yet another way that Vanitas is stripped of all control of his body and fate.

[belladonazeppole]

The Many Suitors of Miss Fortune

"I fucking knew it!" Adam yelled while pointing at Husk, this asshole reborn as a sinner and didn't took him long enough to come to the hotel asking for a place to stay since it look that lot of sinners could recognizr him and they weren't happy.

Charlie, the bleeding heart that she had, accept him even if she wasn't excited of him be here but she believe that everybody deserve redemption even if that person was Adam who took a liking on Husk.

"You almost convince me that you were a dude!" For some reason Adam believe that Husk is a woman. Maybe it was his chest fur since Angel gave him a shampo that gave Husk more volume or maybe Adam is into woman with deep voices or he's just a fucking moron. "You look so hot that I can get over you having the bitchest personality in this dump."

"I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD YOU CAN'T BE THIS FUCKING STUPID! " Husk yelled angrily at Adam, he has this argument to many times and just fially he succed in making him see reason in that thick skull of his."I'M JUST IN DRAG!"

The fact that he comes from Adam just makes him lose hope.

Sadly he can't make this moron see reason but he was right in one thing, he look really good. Husk has to congratulate Angel for making his grumpy old ass look this great. Husk was wearing a golden-yellow backless dress with a slip on the side, golden heels to match, a short wig that was the same color that his fur. It make Husk remember his youth when he do some drag as "Lady Luck" but that was when he was alive.

"As crude and imbecile Adam can be, he is right for once, you look quite wonderful tonight, my dear Husker." Said Alastor while spawning out nowhere in the stool of the bar while glaring at Husk. That was actually kinda sweet from Alastor since after their deal was broken their relationship was.... weird. Alastor sometimes tried to treat still like his pet but now Husk could actually refuse.

Alastor still was a bitch in deer clothing but maybe they can move on from their owner/pet relationship, maybe even making Alastor see Husk as an actual person and not his cat.

"Thanks, Al. That—

"Your welcome! But I do have a problem while the dress fits you like a glove the color just don't see like the right one." He squints his eyes while looking at him up and down to then snapping his fingers making the dress changing from golden-yellow to red, "There! It isn't better? Red was always a color that look better on you, my friend."

Or maybe not.

"No thanks. This color fits me way better than red." He said with a smug smile while snaping his fingers and, return the dress from Alastor signature red to his original golden-yellow, which make one of Alastor's ears twitch.

"Just ignore them you can't deal with stupid or batshit crazy." Said Angel while not giving Adam or Alastor much of a thought, the first just flip him in return while the latter strains his smile, "Now give me a spin! I want to see all my hard work before your date ravish you!"

"DATE WITH FUCKING WHO?" Adam yelled now angry knowing that the hottie that he was trying to bang was gonna be bang for somebody else.

"Husker!?" Alastor was shocked that his former (pet) associate was having date he believe that he and Angel were going to one of their silly "going out" but that somebody was having interest in his oldest... friend. It make Alastor feel angry and possesive. Meanwhile, Husk just rolls his eyes and ignore the outburst of these dumbass but still does what his friend ask him, after all Angel did help him and looking like this-

"This is just a first date, Angel."

"Just do what I'll do."

"I won't do anal in the first date." He cringes at bit at the sound of radio interference but refuse to giving Alastor the attention, "Buuh you whore!" Angel said jokingly while Husk just snorted at him.

"There you are!" A new voice make himself know, that was coming from the TV, it was Vox, who succed in coming out of the TV before Alastor could destroy it. "Fuck you old fossil!!" He yell while giving the finger to the radio demon.

Ever since Vox saw Alastor defeat agaisnt Adam he become more bold in entering to the hotel to mock the other overlord and old rival much to everybody else annoyance. Even fake dating Husk to have more info but the dumbass become more invested in Husk.

He may become Husk unofficial sugar daddy.

They don't even fuck.

Vox just gaves Husk money like an idiot for doing nothing.

Again Vox is a moron.

"Are you gonna fuck a fucking TV instead of having me? The Dickmaster?" Adam asked in disbelieve, fuck he fall really hard in this one. "He looks soo desperate."

"Inded and needy." Alastor glare harder at Vox, "I would expect that you have a better taste than this, Husker." At hint of dissapointment was in Alastor voice. Vox, for the first time, didn't put a lot of mind on them, "And you two are better?" He asked while crossing his arms to them point to Adam, "You! A broke fallen angel that is so fucking desperate that come to the place that tried to destroy in the first place!" Now pointing at Alastor, "And you! A coward who escape in battle and treat him like a pet at best!"

Now looking smug, "While I'm a powerful overlord that has tons of money and can make any of his whishes reality."

"I mean he isn't wrong."

"True, but Husk has a date with somebody waaayy better than any of you guys."

"WHO?" The three of them ask in anger.

"Hoo Mama!"

The three sinners slowly begin to turn around to see Lucifer the King of Hell with a bottle of apple cider and his mouth wide open at the sight of Husk, so he was the date.

That motherfucker.

Lucifer seeing that there were more people watching him pulled himself together as best he could, failure of course, "I mean…uh- You look beautiful tonight Hu- I mean Miss Fortune, yes, that color suits you excellently." He said hurriedly as he handed the bottle of apple cider to Husk who only smiled at his reaction.

He hands the bottle to Angel, "Thanks, Duckie." He laughs a little as the redness in his cheeks appears, "But you have Angel to thank, he's the one who made my geezer self look this awesome."

"Uuhhh, thank you Angel." He said a little awkward as with the use of his magic made another bottle appear, "A thank you for making Husk look amazing…I mean more! More amazing than you normally look, you always look good but now? I almost fainted…"

He really was Charlie's father.

The same verbal diarrhea when they're nervous.

It was adorable if he was honest.

"I understand you look amazing today too, Duckie." He said once again using Lucifer's nickname which only made him smile more and more relaxed, "I'll wait for you outside."

"Thanks, Short King" Said Angel with the bottle in his hand and leaving to his room, "Have a good fuck you two!" He just waves his hand a bit awkwardly, "Don't worry I'll make sure Husk has a night he won't forget."

He was ready to leave until he sees the three sinners looking at him with daggers in their eyes, his awkward posture changes to an arrogant one while he flashes them the finger, "You three want to be me so badly right now."

"Adam, looks like third time's the charm after all. Alfred I'm sorry for not being able to stay for a conversation but I have date right now…. and who are you?" He said the last while pointing at Vox but shakes his head nonchalantly, "It doesn't matter if I'm honest. I have go to my date with Miss Fortune and if I'm lucky it will soon be Mrs Fortune." He said while sticking his tongue out between his fingers.

"Toodles!" He cheerfully as he leaves the three of them alone.

The King had a date and felt really lucky if he is honest!

(This takes inspiration by a small convo that @adyophene and I had it was too good for me not write.)

[sillygoofyqueer]

So, originally Crowyuan occured when Bingge was already Demon Emperor, then came the idea of him becoming known as the Corvid King while Binghe was still a little disciple. What if he transmigrates and becomes known as the Corvid King before Binghe is even born? What if he finds this poor abused slave boy and decides This Is Mine Now before realising Oops! He's taken the scum villain under his wing, metaphorically and possibly physically too. Too bad, that's his son/little brother now. Oh but what if he transmigrates a little earlier and it goes the same except it's with both Shen Jiu AND Yue Qi? Or with all the other slave children too because he feels bad just saving two, even if those two are the only ones relevant to the original plot?

Wow....the Original™ Crowyuan timeline........back in the good old days where I didn't have so many different AUs to think about.....(/silly I love them all) ANYWAY. Corvid King crowyuan would definitely stumble across the street kids - he gains B-points n shit through answering prayers and gaining followers, so of course he's going to listen to the prayers of some poor little street children with nowhere else to go. It's not like he doesn't have the means to look after them, whether that be giving them to couples who badly want a child but can't have one for whatever reason, or placing them into orphanages that he funds himself (note: they don't know that he's funding it, they just believe there's a generous rich person donating whenever they need the money). However, when he's dealing with this new band of street kids, there is one child who just....does not want to let go of him. He scorns Crowyuan's existence when the deity first finds them in the alleys, offering gentle words of reassurance despite the late hour and leading the children along (yes, "Come Little Children" style, what kind of animal do you take me for?). Unlike the other naïve idiots, Shen Jiu and Yue Qi have seen this played out before. A stranger comes in the night, promising food and a home and love, and those who follow are found not long after. Dead. Crowyuan watches on in...a mixture of respect and worry as one of the children tries to explain the danger of following strangers in the night to the others, and another stands back and watches it happen, scorn clear upon his face. These children should not know the harsh dangers of life, not so young, but it is good that at least two of them are smart enough to not trust strangers, even if that isn't necessary in this instance. So, he offers proof of who he is. He sits down and tells them who he is, and he makes them pray, so he can listen to what they want. The snappy, unimpressed child doesn't, he just glares and scoffs when his friend drops his head down, but then shifts as if to protect him if necessary. When he respond's to this friend's prayer aloud - "Xiao-Jiu would be happy and safe in a bed, I think" - everyone seems to startle. (Of course, he has to repeat this exercise many times until this snappish child, this 'Xiao-Jiu', finally relents). He finally is able to lead these children to a nearby orphanage, ran by people who could do so much good with just the right amount of gold, and he drops them off there along with a pouch filled with gold. However, when he turns to leave, Xiao-Jiu clings to him. He stares up at him with a sort of fury in his eyes, demanding to know who he thinks he is, ditching them after dumping them off with these random people. A street child who speaks to a god, whose fear of being left by his saviour outweighs his fear of the power this creature wields, and does not hesitate to cling to this deity's robes with his dirty hands.

[lady-djarin]

home

joel miller x f!reader (one shot)

warnings/tags: sickening fluff, established relationship, no outbreak, sarah’s alive and well, some touching and kissing between reader and joel, still adult content but no p in v. mdni

word count: 2.6k

a/n: not edited much (that’s my motto) but i just kinda dumped this out in one go so it could be bad. who knows.

* ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Dad!”

Ever since Sarah entered middle school she has become quite loud.

“Dad, there you are,” she barreled into the living room where you and Joel sat on the couch. “I need you to sign this.”

She pushes a piece of paper into his face along with a pen. He quints at it to read the small print. You grab it out of his hands when he tries to locate his glasses that are nowhere in sight.

“Oh the dance! How fun,” you handed it back to him and made sure he signed it as you shot Sarah a wink as she bounced happily on her toes.

You have been dating the single dad for around six months and you have grown quite close with Sarah. Joel has expressed how nervous he is about his baby girl getting older and all the things that come along with it. More than anything else he hates the idea of her dating. He signs the paper with his usual grumpy frown but does it nonetheless and in turn Sarah squeals and jumps up and down in excitement.

“Can you take me shopping tomorrow, I only have a week to shop for a dress,” Sarah put on her best puppy dog face that usually works on her father.

“I’m sorry angel I’ve got a job tomorrow,” he did look genuinely upset that he couldn’t spend the time with his daughter.

“I’ll take you, we can have a girls day,” you had been wanting to spend some one on one time with Sarah and this was the perfect opportunity.

“Oh my god, thank you!” She squealed again and jumped on you and wrapped you in a tight hug. She ran up the stairs talking mostly to herself about what kind of dress and makeup she was planning for her first dance.

“Thank you darlin’, you didn’t have to do that.” He rubbed your leg with his large warm hand and the other came up to hold your face as he kissed you tenderly.

“Oh please, I love that kid. Plus, I don’t think shopping is your forte,” you both laughed at how true that was.

Even though you’ve only been seeing Joel for a few months, you have never felt so at home. He and Sarah have welcomed you in like you were always meant to fit in their little family. You knew you were never one to have kids of your own but the young girl makes you feel more maternal than you ever have in your life.

~

You and Sarah spend the day in the mall finding stores to invade and try on every dress possible. She finally settled on a beautiful deep purple shimmery one that made her look way older than she needed to, but it was appropriate. Afterwards you found the food court and dug into some pizza and garlic knots.

“So… since your dad will never bring this up… are you going with anyone to the dance? Like maybe a boy? or girl, I don't judge.”

You knew she probably didn’t want to talk about it as pre-teens never do but you wanted to make sure she wasn’t going to do anything stupid. Her cheeks blushed a deep shade of crimson but she giggled slightly, telling you there was someone.

“I mean… I’m not going with anyone but my friends but…”

She was avoiding telling you the truth, maybe because she thought you’d rat her out to her dad.

“Look Sarah… I'm not asking to be a snitch, I just want to make sure you’re being safe and smart, that's all.”

She looked up at you with shyness but trust in her deep brown eyes.

“There is this boy… Ben,” she had the most radiant smile on her face telling you about her crush. He’s a little older than her but in the same grade and apparently very sweet and has blue eyes and dark blonde hair. You can imagine her sitting in class staring at him instead of listening to the teacher.

“So, are you going to meet him at the dance?”

“I mean we haven’t made plans but… I told him I’d see him there, and he followed me on instagram!”

It all reminded you of the days before adult pressure and complicated feelings. You smiled as she continued to tell you about him and the things she found endearing.

“Ok now, I have to ask and be the annoying adult but have you, you know… done anything with boys before?”

While she was only just under thirteen you still had to make sure, kids do anything these days.

“Like what?” She gave you a scrunched confused face then slowly realized what you were asking. “Like kissing?! Oh no that’s gross, boys smell anyway…,” she seemed to maintain her innocence for a while longer.

Thank god.

“Well that’s fair, but just remember, if a boy ever tries to do anything you don’t like, you can always say no. Don’t ever feel like you have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

She looked a little confused at your instruction but nodded anyway. She’s a very smart kid and strong willed, you have full faith in her.

The rest of the day was spent wandering around the mall and you both finally decided to end up getting your nails done.

~

Joel came home to find you both cooking dinner, a hoard of shopping bags littered the house.

“There’s my girls,” he ruffled his daughter's hair and covered her eyes jokingly as he kissed you deeply. “How was shopping? Successful it seems like.”

“Very…,” Joel’s eyes kept flicking down to your lips, as they often did when he got home from work.

“Dad, look! We got our nails done!” She splayed her fingers out so he could inspect her manicure. You let her get some slightly ‘grownup’ nails, small extensions with french tips. She said she’ll be the talk of the dance.

“Oh look at that… my little girl is all grown up…,” he looked a little queasy and you both laughed at his reluctance to let her grow up.

“Sarah, why don’t you put these bags away and I'll finish dinner, ok?”

She hugged you tight around your middle and mumbled about a million ‘thank you’s into the fabric of your shirt before grabbing her bags and darting up the stairs.

As soon as she disappeared Joel grabbed your hips as he stood behind you and pulled you into his hard chest. He attached his lips to your neck and ran his hands over your curves.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” His voice was low and gravely in your ear.

“Mmm, not today…”

He pulled you impossibly closer and nuzzled his mouth against your neck. “Well I do, I love you so damn much,” he continued kissing down your neck and any skin he could reach. “Sarah loves you too you know, she’s always talking about you…”

It felt like he wanted to talk about something else, something more. Your relationship has been going so well and it kind of feels like it’s time to take the next step. While you both know that this is it, there’s no one else for either of you, it might not be exactly time yet to tie the knot. However you have talked about sharing a space, the idea of living together is exciting to both of you.

“Well I love her, she’s a great kid, because you’re a great dad.” You turned in his arms and returned the kisses along his jaw. Just as you slid your hands into his back pockets, loud very teen sounding footsteps came racing down the stairs. You pulled away from each other but Sarah was too busy looking at her nails to notice. The timer on the oven beeped and as Joel and his daughter set the table you gathered the rest of dinner.

You sat around the table like you always did on Saturday nights and talked about the plans for the next week and the dance. You really did love your little found family.

~

The following Saturday you sat in Sarah’s room with her and a couple friends of hers, helping do their hair and makeup. Joel happened to have a poker game tonight with Tommy so he said bye just before the teen girl screaming got too loud. So here you were, a fully grown woman essentially playing dress up with a few 13 year olds. But you couldn’t be happier.

After the girls were ready and a lengthy photoshoot ensued, you were off. Four screaming voices all trying to harmonize to some pop song over the radio made your ears ring but seeing Sarah so happy made it worth it.

The plan was to pick her up around 10pm when it ended.

So you were super confused when you got a call from Sarah around 8:30pm.

“Hey girl, what’s going on? You ok?”

All you heard at first was a sniffle, then a deep breath before her wobbly voice came over the speaker. “N-no, not really…”

Your heart stopped for a second but you tried to stay calm.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to hide the urgency in your voice.

“Ben… he—“ hiccup “He was a… a total jerk!” Her voice was strained and scratchy like she had been crying for some time.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry… You know what, you stay in the office, ok? I'm going to come get you.”

She only mumbled a quiet ‘ok, bye’ before you slammed the phone down on the receiver and grabbed your keys. You shaved off probably five to ten whole minutes speeding through the streets to the school.

You quickly make your way to the office and find her with mascara running down her cheeks. She hiccuped and sniffled when she saw you before sluggishly standing and wrapping her arms around you. She sobbed slightly into your sweatshirt and you wrapped the one you brought her around her shoulders. After the teacher who waited with her waved you out, you gathered her into your car and made your way home.

But before reaching the familiar street you had an idea. Sarah had been slumped in her seat with the sweatshirt wrapped tight to her form until she saw the neon lights. You swore you saw her eyes light up when she saw the ‘Dairy Queen’ sign and it warmed your heart.

She got her usual birthday cake flavor of course, and you got your favorite. Before now you tried to let her have a few breathing moments but as you settled in the parking lot you tried to get some information from her.

“Are you ok?”

“Boys are so stupid…,” another tear slipped out of her eye.

“I know… I hate to say it but they don’t get much better.” You managed to get a laugh out of her which was an improvement. “What did Ben do?”

She spooned the thick ice cream into her mouth and tried to talk around it. “H-he was with that girl Rebecca all night and I tried to say ‘hi’ but he ignored me and pretended I wasn’t there. They were laughing at me…,” She resolved into sobs again and you rubbed her shoulder to try and comfort as best as you could.

“Oh god I’m sorry that’s so… shitty.” You never really cursed around her as she’s still young but this felt appropriate. It also helped draw out a laugh again, which made you both smile. “Look, boys like that are not worth your time. He’s playing games and you don’t want a boy who plays games. If anyone ever talks to you like that, it means they don’t respect you. You should only be friends, or more, with someone who respects you. Does that make sense?”

She looked at you with her red-rimmed and puffy eyes and you knew she got it. Of course she got it, she’s a smart kid.

“Yeah, I think so. Thank you… I'm sorry I freaked you out.” The light returned to her eyes as she giggled at her own words.

“You didn’t freak me out… too bad.” You were both laughing now, recalling the way you sped over to the school. “Look we can talk more if you want but I think you need some ‘you’ time tonight. Let’s get you some of my nice bath stuff and we can do a little spa night?”

“That sounds nice… thank you.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around your neck. On the way home you told her stories of things boys had done to you in the past. You did make sure to let her know that her dad was not one of them, he was the best kind of guy. Once you arrived home you gave her some bath stuff and gave her a clean towel and told her you’d wait downstairs for her.

You made some tea in the meantime and shortly after, Joel got home. Before he said anything he looked towards the stairs and heard the shower running. He gave you a quizzical look and you sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to like it.

“So Sarah had me pick her up early…”

He already looked concerned.

“She’s fine… it was boy drama. We talked and she’s still upset but she’ll live.”

He breathed out a dramatic sigh and you welcomed him into your arms.

“This is what I was worried about,” he sounded so defeated.

“Joel, it’s bound to happen. Every girl gets her heart broken, it’s inevitable unfortunately.” You rubbed your palm over his stubble and looked over his tired features. “She’s smart and strong willed. Boys will be intimidated by her when she realizes it.”

He softened at that. “Thank you for helping her so much, she really has opened up since knowing you.”

“She’s really something, just like her dad. He’s not too shabby,” you giggled as he pinched your waist.

“I’m not too shabby? That’s sweet.”

You mirrored his smile as he boxed you between himself and the kitchen counter. He kissed you deeply, pushing his tongue between your lips, tasting every inch of you. Your hum reverberated through your chest into his and your skin lit on fire from the inside out. Desire instantly pooled in your lower stomach and you ground your hips into his. This only resulted in his hard, jean clad thigh slipping between yours and pushing against your clothed sex. You moaned into his mouth and just as you felt like you were going to lose it, Joel pulls away and then you hear descending footsteps.

Sarah reaches the bottom but doesn’t come down, “I’m going to go to bed, I’m really tired. Sorry dad.”

“That’s ok angel, you sleep good. Love you.”

“Love you guys,” then she’s gone.

“‘Love you guys’?” you look at Joel with surprise. “Did she just say she loves me?”

He just stares down at you with this tender look, unresponsive for a few moments.

“Move in with me.”

It wasn’t a question but a plea. Like he couldn’t imagine you’d say no. Because why would you?

“Really?” Your heart raced.

“Yes really, we both want you here. More than anything.”

“Of course, I’d love to!” You squealed like Sarah did earlier tonight and launched yourself at him. He caught you around the middle and pulled you up, sounding giddy as you did while he spun you around.

You spent the first night in your now full time shared bed after Joel showed you all the ways he truly, passionately loved you.

You knew you were finally home.

[ofstoriesandstardust]

i bet on losing dogs (t.o./k.c.)

a/n: i watched this film less than 48 hours ago and i'm already unwell. here is my kate and tyler angst but mostly kate! tyler was a moment but kate was the whole movie!

summary: Somewhere along the way, you end up in Kate and Tyler's orbit. They've got you. (tyler owens/kate cooper/female reader)

warnings: tornadoes, i'm from california cut me some slack, angst with a hopeful ending, nightmares, hurt/comfort, temporary character death

word count: 4.1k

It’s by chance you ever end up in the path of the Wranglers and into Tyler and Kate’s lives. 

They aren’t even looking for someone to help manage the team but even Boone and Lilly can admit that with the attention they’re getting, they need someone who can keep up. 

So by chance, by luck, or all because of a tornado, Tyler ends up connecting with you through a friend of his from UA. 

The job description is unorganized chaos, simply put. Managing the crew on a day to day basis is enough, not to mention helping them manage the finances, stay within legal code, managing the social media, and getting their foots in the door for grants and sponsors. 

Boone’s convinced you’ll run screaming from the team all the way back to the city, Javi too, but it actually ends up to be a seamless fit. 

You help Lilly and Boone with the sales, the production of merch, and all the channels. You’re even the one who sets up a Tiktok, their donations and attention increasing tenfold. You research grants and donors for Javi and Kate and you help Tyler source new equipment for the team. 

When all is said and done, three months have flown by and Tyler is forever grateful you’d been blown into their path. You’ve blossomed with this crew and they’re changed because of it. 

Not to mention the way you’ve grown into Kate and Tyler’s relationship. Although they never say it, unsure of how to fold you into their dynamic, you’re there in ways that complement their already existing chemistry. 

Kate’s quite fond of you too, he knows. He would’ve seen it a million miles away, the way Kate’s eyes had sparkled meeting you, the way they do in the field. But she’d say the same about him, citing the way he goes soft for you in a way he’d only ever done for Kate. 

The problem is - he still can’t figure out how you even managed to end up here. 

“C’mon.” Javi says, nudging you. “How the hell does a city girl like you find her way to hell’s corner in Oklahoma, managing a bunch ragtag storm chasers?” 

You shrug, fiddling with your beer bottle, glancing out at the group sat around the crackling fire. You and Javi are sat a top Ty’s truck, the crew looking intently at you. “You just asking or you really wanna know?”

The group breaks into various calls, corralling you into telling them. 

“It’s kind of a long story.” You defend, a sheepish grin growing on your face. 

Javi nudges your shoulder again. “C’mon, tell us. We barely know anything about you city girl.”

“A couple months ago, at the start of tornado season, I was in Texas, for a friends joint bachelor/bachelorette party. We were at a rodeo and I had gotten separated from the group. An EF4 hit the place out of nowhere and I wasn’t able to get back to the shelter in time. I’ve always been terrified of tornadoes, we don’t got ‘em where I’m from, but- that was something else.” You shake your head, shaking off the memories. “I should’ve died. It should’ve killed me, but it didn’t. And all I could think of was that I had been given a second chance, just barely. And what I was doing just didn’t make sense anymore.” 

Boone lets out a low whistle as Javi’s hand finds your shoulder. Tyler can feel Kate tense in concern, his own brows furrowed. 

“Within the week, I’d quit my job, got rid of all my stuff, dumped my boyfriend, and broken my lease. I didn’t know where the hell I was going but I knew I couldn’t stay there. I just needed to- to find somewhere, someplace, where I could do something tangible. I kept thinking that what I lived through was only a sliver of a glimpse into what y’all experience your whole lives out here and I- I just wanted to help.”

“So you found the Wranglers.” Lilly finishes and you nod. 

“When I’d left town, I gave Lainey a call. Her and her fiancé had been the one hosting us at their ranch for the trip and asked Lainey if she knew of anything I could do, any place I could go. Next thing I know I’m on a plane to Oklahoma and some self-proclaimed tornado wrangler I’ve never heard of is picking me up from the airport.” 

“Is this why you refuse to go storm chasing with us?” Boone calls out as Tyler sits up straighter in his chair, Kate shifting as he does. 

“Hold on a damn minute.” He asks, the group falling silent. “Lainey’s fiancé, Smith, he’d been killed at a rodeo just this year.” 

Your eyes are cautious when they meet his. “Smith gave his life for mine. He’s the one who got me to safety and he paid for it. I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it.” 

It goes silent in the group as you avert your eyes. After a few moments, you slide down the front of Tyler’s truck, chucking your beer in the trash. 

“It ain’t your fault, you know.” Tyler calls out as you begin to walk away from the group. 

You freeze. 

“These tornados, they ain’t what they used to be. They take and take. Weather cares little of the price of human life.” Tyler says. 

“Those reports you see on the news, they’re true. They’re getting worse every year, that’s why we’re out here. It’s why you’re out here.” Javi follows up as you turn back to face the group. “We’re gonna find a way, to make things better. We’ll never be able to stop the weather, not completely, but maybe we can find a way to keep up with it.” 

“It’s okay to admit I’m not contributing much. I mean I don’t know shit about science and I don’t want to get near a tornado for the rest of my life. I’m-“ 

“Helping.” Kate protests. “You are. You might not think it but you are. We could barely do this on our own, we need you.” 

You’re hesitant to accept Kate’s words for what they are but the group seems to be giving their consensus and Tyler’s beckoning you over to him and Kate. 

“Listen,” He says, once you’re sat between him and Kate. “We might be the most ragtag bunch of hicks you ever met. But as this grows we ain’t never been able to do it without you. If we succeed, if we do this, you’ll have played no small part in it. You belong here.”

You spend the rest of the night tucked into Kate’s side the both of you quiet as the group carries on. 

It’s only as the group is getting ready for bed, Tyler putting out the fire, Boone leaving to find a bush to pee in, that you speak. 

“Sometimes I wonder why I got to live and he didn’t.”

Kate looks down at you. “You’ll drive yourself crazy if you go there you know. What you have that they didn’t. What you could do that they couldn’t.” 

“Will it be enough?” You say but Kate has no answer for you. 

Instead, she shifts upwards and away from you. 

“You should really think about coming out with us sometime.” She says. “Tornados are terrifying but they’re sometimes the most beautiful things. The way they manifest, the way the world just changes. You should give it another shot.” She gives you a soft smile before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your head. “Night. Get some sleep.” 

You lose track of how long you stare at the dying embers before Tyler comes back with another bucket of water to put the fire out for good. 

“You couldn’t have saved him, you know.” Tyler says, setting the bucket down. “But you still have a chance to help us save others. You might not see it but we need you.”

You nod. “Thanks Ty.” 

He gives you a smile. “Anytime kid. Get some rest. We’ve gotta get on the road bright and early tomorrow morning. And uh, think about changing your mind on doing some storm chasing why don’t you? There’s a whole world you’re missing out there.” 

-

It’s late under the Oklahoma skyline. Your friends have either gone off to their motel rooms or are partnered up into their own conversations but you’re too comfortable to move away from Kate, wrapped around her side. 

Your fingers brush up and down her skin, the dying fire crackling before you. As your fingers come to gently trace over her scar, you falter, smoothing your thumb over the skin. 

“Can I ask?” You speak softly. “What happened?” 

In the months that you’ve grown into this group, Kate has shared little of the story behind the scar. While you’re naturally curious, you know even more that it’s a missing piece to a girl and a relationship you’re still learning. 

Kate’s eyes look up at you, firelight reflecting a soft something you can’t name. And then she sits, tugging on your hand. 

She leads you to her shared room with Tyler, leading you inside as Tyler looks up from his phone he’s scrolling through.

It’s not unusual these days, to find yourself somewhere with these two. Whether it was curled up in their bed or around a fire or a diner table or in the back of a truck, you found yourself more and more drawn into their presence. The three of you were standing on the precipice is something and lately, it too often looked like you were the one hesitant to take the dive into uncharted waters. 

You pause at the doorway, surveying them. “You sure?” Kate nods and you slip inside, shutting the door behind you. Kate nudges you towards the bed and you go, Tyler’s warmth radiating off of him as your back finds stability against his broad frame. Kate climbs in the bed next to you, careful to leave her legs intertwined with yours. You feel her hands reach around your body, hands grazing Tyler’s. 

She licks her lips, breath shaky as her eyes flicker down to the faded tear of flesh. 

“It was six or seven years ago now. This project we’re doing out here, the one you’re supporting, it all started because of what Javi refers to as my science project.” Tyler straightens as she talks. “We… we failed.”

“What do you mean?” You ask softly. 

Kate’s eyes finally meet yours. “My friends, we were supposed to release the polymer into an EF1, maybe EF2. But- I was wrong. It was an EF5.” She screws her eyes shut. “I lost them one by one. The tornado took them from me and left nothing but devastation in its wake. The scar- it’s a reminder of them, of what I lost that day. The cost of what happens if I don’t get it right.”

“Kate.” Tyler says softly, a firm note hidden beneath it. Something in it tells you they’ve had this conversation before, that Tyler’s heard this story before. 

You wrap your arms around Kate, tucking your head on top of hers. “You’ll get it right, Kate.” You whisper. “You’ve got this.”

-

The next morning finds you with a storm on the horizon. 

You sit on the top of Tyler’s truck as he beams at you, hands on his hips. “So you coming or what, pretty lady?”

You smile at him, hands wrapped around the chipped mug Boone had lent you. Six months in the field and all you still really had to your name was your toothbrush and a pair of pajamas. “I don’t know, you promise not to drive me right into the middle of that tornado?” 

Ty chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve got my word. No fireworks or nothing. I’ll give you the best storm chase you’ll ever see.” 

“Kate coming?” You ask, unable to stop the hopeful question from tumbling past your lips. He nods, though his grin falters. 

“Javi too.” 

You shrug, handing the now empty coffee mug to him as he offers you as hand to slide down his truck. “Just tell me when.”

No less than a half hour later, the four of you are in Tyler’s truck, cruising down an empty stretch of dirt road of an abandoned town. Your gaze is on the horizon before turning it back to the people in the van. 

“So Javi, you never did tell me how you and Kate had met?”

A grin forms on his face. “Kate and I go all the way back, man. She was the OG storm hunter.” 

You can see Kate smile in the rearview mirror, your eyes meeting. “They’ve got their own handshake.” Tyler comments, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“When do I get my own handshake?” You comment, chancing a glance back out the truck. “Holy shit, that’s what we’re chasing after?” 

“She’s gorgeous ain’t she?” Tyler roars, the truck speeding up. 

“I never thought I’d see something like this.” You breathe, eyes going wide. “There’s so little sky to see in the city. Here’s that’s all there’s to see.” 

You can’t see the grin Javi is giving you, wonder taking over your features as you crane your head to look closer. “Yeah, you’re going to be sticking around a while.” He says softly. “You’ve fallen for the charm.” 

“Ty.” Kate says sharply, tilting her monitor. “Do you see that?” Tyler peers out into the distance where she’s pointing. The car rolls to a stop as them and Javi start using words you don’t understand. 

“What? What’s happening?” 

“Do we got time to get back?” Javi says, pulling his seatbelt off. 

Tyler shakes his head, pressing his seatbelt buckle as he presses another button on his truck. “No, we gotta get low. Now.” His door flies open, and you follow suit, shouting to Kate as you do, asking what’s happening. 

She grabs your hand as the wind begins to pick up around you. “I was wrong.” She says. “It’s gotta be an EF3, at least. We’ve gotta get down.” 

“Kate! Do you see any places?!” Tyler shouts, ushering the two of you away from the car. 

She pauses, scanning the area. “There!” She shouts, pointing to a storm grate a bit farther out more towards the main road. The four of you take off, but it’s obvious you can’t keep up. The wind rages as you feel your ankle twist. The collision to the dirt hurts less than you think it’s going to as the panic in you reaches its peak. 

You’re going to die here.

“No, you ain’t.” Tyler says over the wind, arms coming up to support your under your armpit.  “Not on my watch.” 

Another set of arms lifts you up, as Kate shouts to follow her. The boys carry you the best they can but your eyes are blurry with panic. Kate takes you from them, helping you over to the storm grate. 

“Kate, I don’t- I don’t want to die.” 

“Just hold on to that.” She says firmly. You do as instructed, laying on the ground. Tyler’s body follows yours, clutching onto the grate over your body. His body covers your own, sheltering you from the worst of the weather. 

It’s only then you realize you’re shaking, from the wind or the rain or the freezing terror, you’ll never know. 

“Stay down.” Tyler bellows over the wind. “Stay low and hold on.” 

You whimper, clutching tighter to the grate as the storm’s power increases overhead. “I’ve got you.” Tyler says, Kate repeating his words. 

You aren’t sure in the haze when it all stops, just that you can’t stop shaking and the tears rolling down your face won’t end. Kate’s fingers are around yours, gently prying them from the grate as she runs a soothing hand through your hair. 

“Are you hurt?” Tyler asks bending down next to you as Kate gets the last of your fingers off of the grate. Your shoulders are shaking, unable to stop the sobs wracking your body enough to answer. 

“You’re safe.” Kate whispers. “You’re safe, we’ve got you I promise.” 

And yet all you can do is cry. You feel Tyler tentatively reaching out for you, looking over your body for an injury he might’ve missed. His hands pause underneath the Wrangler sweatshirt you’re wearing, hesitating before they slip under. When they come back clean, he pulls you to your feet. 

“I’m going to carry you back to the truck.” He says cautiously. You feel him lift you up and your hands find purchase in his shirt. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.” 

By the time you reach the truck, the tears have stopped, drying in tracks on your face. “Kate.” You say softly, as Tyler sets you in the back of the truck. He glances over his shoulder, where he can see Javi presumedly comforting Kate. 

“She’ll be here in a minute. You okay?”

You nod. “Just- just shaken up. I panicked and flashed back I guess. What’re the odds you almost get killed by a tornado twice?” 

Tyler shakes his head. “You stick around here long enough, it’ll happen more than that. Look, we were all gonna head back to town tonight anyways. Why don’t you come back to Kate and I’s? I don’t think she’ll want you to leave her sight and I don’t want you to be alone.” You nod as Ty’s thumb reaches up to rub away some of the dirt. “You’re okay. We got you. We’ll take care of you.” 

Kate returns to the truck a few moments later, wrenching the other side of the back open. “You okay?” She asks softly, climbing in next to you. 

You nod. “What were you and Javi talking about?” She glances at the man before shaking her head. 

“Nothing. Say, do you want to come back to Ty and I’s place? We’ll get your ankle all fixed up, some clean clothes. It’ll be a couple days before we’re out on the road again. Give you a chance to regroup?” 

You nod. “That would be nice. I’d like that.” 

She smiles softly, reaching out for you. “We got you.” 

-

You’re tucked up under Kate and Ty’s comforter, the fan on low as your fingers find purchase in the soft material. 

“Kate? It ain’t your fault.”

Your head peeks up at the low voices on the stairs. 

“It is.” Kate says lowly. “It is my fault. How many times is it going to take for me to learn? She could’ve died.” 

“But she didn’t.” Tyler insists. “Aside from a sprained ankle, she’ll be fine. She’ll be on the road with us in just a few days, scheduling more presentations and fancy grant sessions than we know what to do with. Fact of the matter is she’ll probably be on the phone with Lilly tomorrow morning bright and early about new designs for like, keychains or something.”

Kate sighs. “I can’t afford to get it wrong this time.” 

“You’re not going to.” Tyler says, the stairs creaking, meaning he’s probably moving closer to her. “She trusts you Kate.”

“At what cost? They trusted me then too.”

“There’s no price to be paid here Kate. She trusts you, this team. She’s got us, the same way we got her.” Tyler sighs. “Let’s just get to bed okay? I wanna be next to my girls.”

Something stirs in your chest at the way he says girls as in plural but you’re too tired and strung out to dissect it. Kate slips into the bedroom a minute later, Tyler not far behind her. She climbs into the bed next to you, quick to climb under the comforter. Tyler follows suit on your other side. 

“We got you.” She whispers, but this time, you think she may be assuring herself more than you. 

-

This was wrong. Something was wrong here. 

It almost felt, like in some weird haze, she’d lived this day before. 

This was definitely wrong. 

“Kate, c’mon! Help us!” Javi shouts. She breaks from her reverie, running to the boys to grab you from them. 

“I don’t want to die. Kate, don’t let me die.” 

But it’s some ill-fated prophecy, the way she keeps failing, because the minute the boys let go, you’re gone. 

Your screams pierce through the air as all she can do as watch. 

The wind comes to a stop, it all falling still around them as the boys stand there in horror. 

“What did you do?” Tyler asks lowly. “What did you do Kate?!”

She freezes, unable to understand what just happened. 

“How do you keep letting this happen? How do you keep failing? How come you can’t get it right when it matters?” Tyler’s shout grows. 

A breeze kicks up again, a torn, bloodied Wrangler sweatshirt coming to lay at her feet. 

She’s going to be sick. 

“It’s your fault Kate!” Tyler’s harsh yell comes as she stands there, rain and wind whipping around her. She stares numbly at the spot where you had just been, the only thing left being the sweatshirt, feeling her fingers clench around nothing. 

You had been gone in a matter of seconds, slipping through her fingers like smoke. 

“No, but I-“ She licks her lips. “No, it can’t-“

It can’t end like this. 

“Yes, Kate, yes it is!” Tyler yells, coming closer to her now. “It’s your fault that’s she’s gone! It’s her blood on your hands! It’s your fault she’s dead, just like all the others!” Tyler shouts, pacing closer to her. She flinches, raising her hands to cover her ears to block out his yells. 

“Owens, stop.” Javi calls out but it all sounds muddy as she squeezes her eyes shut, willing for this to be over. 

Behind her eyes, she could still see the terrified look in your eye, the way you had pleaded with Kate to not let you die. The scream you’d let out as the wind had pulled you away from her. 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on her, wrenching her wrist away from her ear. 

“It’s your fault she’s gone. It will always be your fault.”

Her eyes fly open, mouth around a scream.

-

Kate’s scream shatters any illusion of silence in the house as both of your heads whip towards the bedroom. 

You’ve barely had a chance to rise from the table, where you’d sat with Ty in the morning light, Tyler moving closer to the bedroom, when Kate’s rushed footsteps pound against the creaky staircase and round the corner. 

Her eyes are wild with fear but her body sags in relief at the sight of you. She pulls you to her chest, all but collapsing into your embrace, a sob escaping her chest. 

Tyler’s brow is furrowed in concern, at least what you can see of him over Kate’s shoulder. One hand stays wrapped around her waist, the other coming to rake your nails gently under Kate’s sleep shirt as she continues to sob.

“It’s all my fault. I knew the storm was going to be too big- but I-“ 

You shush Kate, continuing her movement. “I’m okay, Kate, it’s okay.”

“It’s not!” She shouts, wrenching herself away from you. She wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand sniffling as she does. “It’s not okay! I could’ve gotten you killed!” 

“Kate, it’s not your fault.” You try to soothe, taking a step closer to her but all that does is prompt a fresh round of tears. 

“Yes, it is.” She nods sadly. “Yes, yeah it is. It was my fault then and it would’ve been my fault now too.” 

You shake your head, closing the distance she’s tried to create between the two of you. “No, it’s not Kate.” You say firmly. “It wasn’t your fault then and no one blames you for those losses. It wouldn’t have been your fault yesterday and I wouldn’t have blamed you either. The weather we chase is unpredictable and ever-changing. Loss is the name of the game we play.” 

She heaves a breath, her shoulders shaking. “You’re not an acceptable loss.” 

“Kate, if I had died yesterday, I would’ve died knowing you and Ty had done everything you could’ve to keep me safe.” You cup her cheek, brushing away a few tears as you do so. “You did everything you could’ve for your friends back then too.” 

“I couldn’t save them.” She croaks. “I couldn’t save you.” 

You crowd her space, nudging her nose with your own. “Hey, you know you did, right? You saw the signs. You knew to take shelter, where to hide. You did save me. The part that matters isn’t that you could’ve failed but that you didn’t.”

Kate’s forehead meets your own, her hand finding your fingers. “I- Please don’t leave.” She whispers. “Please don’t leave me.”

You feel breathless at her request, at the desperation in her tone. Your eyes meet Tyler’s. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper back. “I’m here Kate. We’re here.”

[yummyuta]

under the same roof | l.j ft l.m

♡ genre: smut - mdni! slight angst | roomates to lovers | word count: 2,455

♡ pairing: lee jeno x f. reader

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f. recieving)

♡ summary: tensions rise when your roommate mark goes out of town for a few days, leaving you with your other unfamiliar roommate jeno. will you be able to bridge the gap between the two of you or continue to avoid each other until mark returns?

♡ authors note: this idea was based off a dream i had (not abt these members) but i wanted to adapt it.

♡ song recommendation:

"should I just move out? i don’t want to cause any problems,” your voice tinged with unease. mark turned to you, his gaze softening. he took your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. the voices from the movie you were watching fading into the background. "dont be ridiculous, i want you to stay,” he said firmly before pausing. “however you aren't going to like this. i do have to go out of town for a few days for work.”

your eyes widened, and you felt a pang of anxiety. “please don’t go. or at least take me with you,” you pleaded, clinging to best friend and fellow roommate's arm. mark frowned, his expression a mix of sympathy and practicality. “if you get uncomfortable, you can stay with chenle or haechan or literally anyone else. i don’t want you to feel stuck here with jeno.”

just then, jeno emerged from his room and observed the exchange from the doorway, his expression inscrutable. "he hates me mark and i dont know why or how to fix it," you said, voice low. upon hearing that he shook his head and retreated back into his room.

it had been a few months since you had moved in with mark and one of his close friends, jeno. you felt like a burden, suddenly interfering on their space like this. you had unfortunately found out your boyfriend was cheating and had just gotten dumped, leaving you in a tough spot. with nowhere else to turn and mark being a saint, he offered his help to you. upon your arrival, you were told that jeno had a puppy like deamenor to him and that he was harmless. however, as soon as you stepped through the door, boxes in your arm slightly blocking your view, you crashed into his strong figure. looking up at him, apologizing profusely, he had an unreadable expression on his face, barely holding eye contact with you. without saying a word, he brushed past your shoulder and entered his room. since that day, you tiptoed around him, unsure of how to proceed. you weren't a very outgoing person to begin with, and making new friends was always an adjustment for you. mark tried to bridge the gap between you for the first few weeks, but it was no use, jeno wasn't budging. "hes stuck in his own ways. thats just jeno, but eventually, he will come around." mark was quick to say whenever he noticed you getting upset.

the next day, mark was gone and the apartment was eerily quiet. you wandered into the kitchen having just woken up, before spotting jeno. you barely acknowledged each other. reaching up for your coffee mug in the cupboard, you felt jenos gaze fall on you. "why are you wearing my shirt?” he asked, his voice slightly accusatory. jeno hardly ever spoke to you, not used to hearing him, you froze in place and muttered, “fuck,” under your breath. “i thought it was mark's. the laundry must have gotten mixed up." you studdered out looking at your feet, not wanting to meet his eyes. "but I can give it back.”

jeno's eyes softened slightly, a smile peeking its way onto his lips. he reached up behind you, outstretching his muscular arms, grabbing the mug you were having a hard time reaching from the shelf with one hand. he lingered for a moment, the sounds of your heart ringing in your eardrums. “keep it." his body pressed against yours, the other hand that was by his sides, brushing the hem where the shirt met the tops of your thighs. "it looks good on you.” he whispered in your ear. with that, he set the cup on the counter next to you and turned to leave the room.

later that day, you found jeno in the living room staring intently at the tv screen playing video games. you hesitated but eventually joined him on the couch. you didn't speak at first, his voice shocking you for the second time that day when he asked if you wanted to play with him. as the hours passed, you became more comfortable and ended up stretching out with your legs draped over his lap. jeno's hand lightly rested on them occasionally tapping or rubbing them when he wasn't pressing the controls on his remote. the awkwardness was fading as you got used to his presence. what was once an intimidating aura quickly softened and became comforting.

getting bored of staring at the tv screen, you and jeno began to further unwind with drinks and music, sitting criss cross on the living room floor, trying to break down the walls that had surrounded you. what better way to do that than with a game of truth or dare. eventually, the conversation turned to why jeno had been distant with you.

"i was nervous,” he admitted, his tone sincere. “i didn’t know much about you before you moved in. you’re one of mark's closest friends, and to be honest, i thought there might be something going on between you two, so i wanted to be respectful of that.” you laughed, and jeno jumped at hearing the sudden sound. it surprised him, but it was adorable, and he wanted to hear it more. "mark is like a brother to me, we ran around in our diapers together as kids"

jeno's cheeks flushed, a ting of embarrassment present on them. he moved closer, his eyes studying yours before continuing. “well, i think its cute how you cling to him.” you rolled your eyes playfully, you couldn’t help but feel flustered. “trust me, we aren't normally like that. i was only clingy to him because i couldn’t even go near you” you confessed, barely even registering what you said. jeno scooted closer to you, placing a hand on your bare knee. “looks like you can get close to me now,” jeno said softly, faces inches apart. your eyes flickered from his fingers, clutching the skin of your leg to the darkening pools in his eyes. you cleared your throat "um its my turn, i think," your voice becoming hoarse. "so what will it be truth....or dare" jeno quipped, lips curling upwards.

you felt a rush of emotion go through you. you didn't know if it was the liquid courage that you had, or if you were finally reaching a turning point but unable to resist, you whispered, “dare,” before leaning in. "i think you know what i want," he said in a hushed tone. his breath was mingling with your own, as you contemplated. just earlier today, you were terrified of the man, but that fear had turned to lust and greed. "fuck it" you murmured, placing your lips on his. jeno immediately took both your cheeks in his hands, pulling you in closer. the minute you moved in and crashed into him, you bumped him off his axis. he was flustered, and that never happened to him. you were beautiful and he knew he had to control himself for the sake of keeping the peace but now here you were in his arms, kissing him with such force, you knocked him even more off his guard.

you slipped your hands up his black tee. he was toned and felt incredibly hot against you. you broke away from the kiss, gasping for air. the sexual energy in the room was turned up 10x when he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the rest of his body. you had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight. to be honest, the moment you met jeno, despite how he treated you, you felt drawn to him and maybe that's why it upset you so much that he didnt feel the same or so you thought.

it had been so long since you had been intimate with a man. every atom in your body was relishing at the feeling. you were extra sensitive, his hands gripped your...well his shirt and hiked it up to your belly button, as he kissed down your neck, to your collarbones, practically ripping the shirt in all directions to get as much access to you as he could. once he reached the top of your underwear, he sunk his teeth into the fabric, pulling down. honestly, he wasn't sure what had overcame him. this urge was unlike anything he had ever felt. on one hand, he felt like he had to prove just how sorry he was for how he treated you before and showed you that he wanted to do better. on the other, he had heard about your breakup from mark before you moved in, and as be observed you this whole time, he couldn't imagine why any man would be dumb enough to cheat on you. he wanted you to forget all about the hurt and finally move on with him.

he looked up at you, searching your eyes for any hint of hesistation, but all he was met with was the same desire mirroring his own. "do you trust me?" he asked, wanting confirmation. you wrapped a hand around his neck, pushing him closer to where you wanted him. thats all it took for him to wrap his lips on your clit. a surge of electricity surged through you, his mouth hot and tongue wet and skilled. he flicked the nub before moving down to your entrace, diving in deeper and twisting and turning to hit all the angles in your walls. if this was his form of an apology consider all to be forgiven.

you tasted like hints of cherry from the soju you had been drinking. your thighs tightened around his head, entrapping him and closing any potential opportunity for air to seep through. he chuckled against your heat, sending vibrations further into you. the noises you made and movement of your hips pressing into his face, he could tell you were close, and as much as he wanted to taste you completely, the throbbing in his pants was becoming unbearable. he was griding into the floor, the thought of your pussy sucking in his cock was swimming in his head as he swirled his tongue in circles around your nub once more. he pulled himself away from you, and before you could protest, he leaned up, pressing his clothed dick in between your thighs and buried his face in between your tits.

"do you still think i hate you?" he whimpered into your chest as he continued his movements. precum was leaking through his sweats mixing with yours, but before he could continue, he wanted to be sure the sex filled air was clear. you brushed his dark hair out of his eyes, you were seeing the puppy look for the very first time. every worry, negative thought, any resentment you had felt towards him melted away. you brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you becoming insufferable. you realized then that you didn't need any more space from jeno. space was a response to fear, and you had no reason for that any longer. "i think we have come to an understanding now" you said before filling in the gap.

you were fully locked in to each other, his hips swaying and snapping into yours. your pussy was like a void, minds going completely numb as pleasure took over. it wasn't enough for you, as you clawed his shoulders and back, wanting his body as near to you as possible. your lips moving in harmony to the feeling of his cock curling into you. you felt like you were falling through the floor, your back digging into the carpet below you as jeno pushed and bent your body to his will. if you had known that you were living with a sex god, you would have made amends with jeno long ago.

curse words littered out of your mouth, your orgasm teetering over your head. you were clinging onto it for so long, unable to let go of this feeling. when jeno had his way with you, would he go back to pretending like you didn't exist when mark got home? you didnt want to think of it, you wanted to place your faith in jeno. it was only one night, realistically how much could this actually change things between you two. jeno slowed his movements down for a moment, noticing how you had tensed up and tears began forming in your eyes. he couldn't bring himself to fully stop, not when you were both this close to being fully enveloped in each other. he kissed away the salty tears as they fell, moving his hand that was leaving bruises on your hip to your chin lifting to meet his tender gaze.

"stay with me, i promise i won't leave you alone again." he said confidently. you saw a twinkle of hope in his eyes, the sparkle of the truth. your mind began to settle, nodding your head and blush, finding its way onto your cheeks. jeno sped his hips up again, knocking your foreheads together as he smashed his lips into yours again, drowning in them. your orgasm thrashed over you moments later, finally feeling at peace. the war between your mind, body, and heart was settling. you lay there with jeno on the carpet of your living room, basking in the feeling of acceptance of one another.

-------------------------------------------------------

you woke up the next morning in jeno's room, having moved from your previous spot after you had regained yourselves. remnants from your late night sexscapade still hanging in the air. you were still groggy when you heard mark’s voice calling your name from the living room. "y/n? are you here?" mark’s voice was full of concern.

you jumped out of bed, shaking jeno awake. "jeno! get up! go distract mark and keep him in the kitchen!" jeno rubbed his eyes, looking confused but nodded quickly. you scrambled to throw on some clothes. the urgency was palpable—you and jeno's stuff was scattered in the living room, and mark was dangerously close to discovering it. as you finished collecting your things and hiding them, you heard mark's voice getting closer and nearly collided with him as he exited the kitchen. reacting instinctively, you threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"whoa, you missed me that much?" mark laughed, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement. "was it really that bad without me?" he winced. you managed a laugh, "yeah, it was the worst." glancing over mark's shoulder and catching jeno's gaze. he was standing behind mark with a knowing look. you sighed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief.

you all settled down on the couch and started to fill mark in on the events of the past few days. "so, jeno and I spent some time together, and we actually got closer." mark looked intrigued. "oh, really? that’s great! what did you guys do?" you hesitated, choosing to leave out the more intimate details. "just hung out, talked a lot. it was... nice." mark offered a smile before wrapping his arms around both of your shoulders. "maybe i should go out of town more often then. i told you he would come around eventually." you could feel jeno's eyes lingering on you, and he added, "yeah, you should," offering you a wink.

♡ ending authors note: i was getting really into it and decided to split this up into another part, so that will be uploaded very soon! i hope you enjoyed

[2jinbi]

hi everyone :3 this is my first time ever writing anything. i’ve never written anything before but i have really bad jjk brainrot right now so i created this account to dump this stuff on. please ignore any spelling mistakes! english is not my strongest suite. im good at it but yk, im not an experienced writer. please feel free to give me criticism. i also dont know if this is formatted right because, well, refer to what i said before lol.

warnings: aged up chars, fluff, slightly ooc, uncle yuuji n auntie nobara 🥹, baby’s name is fumiko (fumi for short), just something fun and short and silly

“no, you can’t eat that!” nobara takes the rubix cube from the infant’s hand. she throws the rubix cube somewhere else as she goes back to filing her nails. she’s left wide-eyed, and you can already tell by the look alone she’s about to start crying. you never understood. yes, she was a baby, but even so, questions are questions. you stop what you’re doing and kneel down next to fumi.

“shh, come here,” your voice is a barely above a whisper. she bursts into tears and starts crying loudly as you place her on your hip and bounce her gently.

“somebody shut that damn baby up, please. focus is key.” yuuji says without sparing a glance at you. he’s too focused on his chess game—you can tell by his body language and posture. yuuji had picked up the hobby literally out of nowhere. you went over to his apartment one day and saw a huge chess board spread across his coffee table. “i learned chess three days ago. todo taught me. he beat my ass really bad. i learned to win against him, and just out of spite,” he chuckles.

“watch it. that’s my kid,” megumi warns. yuuji eyerolls to that—he knew he could never say anything bad about fumi in his presence. it’s not like he did, anyway. he loved fumi like his own; she was everything to him. he wanted to crack a joke but forgot megumi doesn’t joke about his kid. he heaves a sigh and blinks. “well, your kid is distracting me. i can’t focus with the crying.”

“shut up, yuuji. she’s just a baby!” nobara quickwits. fumi had settled down now, but only because she got tired of crying. you know she’d begin again anytime. “she’s right. babies will do baby things. plus, fumi’s teething now, and she’s in constant pain, so she’s bound to throw fits.” megumi defends. it brings a smile to your face.

“you’re not a very good uncle, ‘y’know,” you said amused. you opened your mouth to speak, but nobara got to it first. “beefing with a baby is crazy to me,” nobara raises her brows and whistles. “no way you guys are ganging up on me.”

fumi starts fussing again, and you can see her trying to escape your arms. she’s reaching her father. you frown slightly but walk over to megumi and hand her to him. he smiles warmly at her and kisses the top of her head. “hi baby,” he says softly. yuuji already accepted defeat. he knew megumi wouldn’t finish the game like this. “you’re so cute, baby. so cute,” he cradles his baby. you’re in awe at the sight. megumi never spoke like this to anyone—his voice was never this soft spoken unless it came to you or his daughter. you notice fumi’s eyes flutter, and she yawns. in a matter of minutes, she’s sleeping. megumi walks to your room and places her in the crib.

“she’s sleeping now. don’t worry,” he walks over to you and places a chaste kiss on your lips. “you’re so gorgeous. i love you so much.” you feel your cheeks heat up intensely. nobara audibly retches, and yuuji looks away, embarrassed. “ew. please get a room.” “agreed!”

megumi’s face twitches. “shut up!”

[fallen-gravity]

All jokes aside, despite the fact that multiple sources of canon tell us that Maui struggles with being empathetic and understanding where others are coming from when it comes to their needs in the way of emotional comfort, I'm gonna come out and say it: Maui is actually very good with being empathetic, but only in a very specific kind of way that only resonates with Moana.

(some fun analysis, please don't tag as a ship)

Here's the thing! I've been listening to Can I Get a Chee-Hoo? a lot lately, and the more I listen to it the more patterns I started noticing, and the more you unpack those patterns the more you start to understand why it worked to lift Moana's spirits, despite her being unreceptive to everything else he tried.

Namely that he went after her sense of identity.

Self-identity has always been hugely important to her. He's gotta know that better than anybody, given how many times she told him in the original that she is Moana of Motunui, and he *will* board her boat and sail across the sea, yadda yadda, you all know the rest.

And here's the thing! That's not even remotely close to the only time where the importance of one's identity comes up! (He, uh, wasn't there for one of those times, because one of those times was right after he took off and left at the result of frustration with his own sense of identity, but I digress for that specific situation), but do you know what the important thing to note about those other times is?

Both of those other times, she was reaching out and trying to comfort someone else by reminding them about their own sense of identity!!

I talked briefly about this years ago, but there's a tiny scene in the novelization for the first movie that's omitted from the movie itself. It's right after Lalotai, but far before Moana gets Maui to open up about his issues with abandonment. If I remember right, he's being a stubborn pouty mess about his hook not working, refusing to even get back on the canoe at all, and the way that Moana gets him to comply is with a speech that goes somewhere along the lines of "We will make it all the way to Te Fiti, and you will defeat Te Ka, and I know that because you are Maui." It's a tiny gesture, and nowhere near as sentimental as her later "You are not nothing, and maybe the whole reason the ocean sent me here is to help you see that”, (also from the novelization), but it works, because in that moment all he needs is that gentle push and a reminder of the strong and powerful person he sees himself as. It's not about how she feels about him, it's about him needing to have faith in himself. That's what works!! That's what motivates him to keep going.

The reason I bring all of this up is that Can I Get a Chee-Hoo? is his way of doing the exact!! same!! thing!!

The first line in the whole song!

You're down in the dumps, you think you're way off your game, but you can turn it around, just remember your name!

He's not calling out to some scared kid, he's calling out to the Moana he knows, the Moana who's unafraid to shout her name from the mountain-tops and not care who hears her! The Moana who stood her ground in front of the very same lava monster who took him down without flinching once! Maui doesn't need to say he's proud of her or that he believes in her, not directly, because this is his way of saying this is not who you are, you know who you are.

The whole song is calling out to that pride he knows she has for herself.

Who are you? Who are you gonna be?

He's not looking for a dramatic, over the top answer. He's only looking for things she already knows. She is Tautai Moana of Motunui, she's the human who restored Te Fiti's heart when he couldn't. She knows who she is! But she's lost her way, just as he had once, and this is his way of helping her help herself out of it. He makes a joke about their roles being reversed for the sake of quid pro quo, you helped me so now I'm helping you, but whether he realizes it or not, he's using her own words against her! "I know who you are. Do you? Do you remember who you are?"

He sings her praises, (literally), but none of them are exaggerated or overly boastful in the way he sings his own praises! (also literal). She's legendary, she's going to make history, but oh, you actually already did! I know your legacy! Everything beyond I know your legacy and your destiny and I know that you're great is only hypothetical to build her up! He never claims that she's going to destroy Nalo, or that she'll singlehandedly do anything impossible for a human, it's all can you imagine the stories they'll tell about you? because he knows that's what's important to her!

The reason it works is because it calls her to pick herself up, just as she had done for him. In the novel, where a song obviously needs to be replaced, it all boils down to the essentials of "...I’ve been low before, and I couldn’t see my path. And someone came along who I underestimated and she lifted me up. Someone I don’t want to underestimate herself right now.” It works because it's less about come on, we can fight this guy! in reference to Nalo and more about come on, I know you can believe in yourself better than that!

And perhaps the most important thing of all:

He uses her name.

It's established in the novelization pretty early on, even before they're reunited, that she misses him and all of the teasing and all of the nicknames that comes with him (not that she'd ever admit it out loud, she'd rather be caught dead). She's used to Curly, that name is second nature to her. She's annoyed by princess, but will still respond to it if he calls her by it. They're affectionate nicknames, by all means, but she knows Maui, and she knows he tends to fall back on teasing and jokes and avoiding the heavier topics.

When he calls her Moana, she knows that he's not messing around. He's not teasing her. There's genuine, serious truth to what he says.

Throughout the song, he uses nothing but her name. C'mon, Moana, you know you can do this. It's a lot different hearing I have faith in you, you're the bravest wayfinder there's ever been when it's attached to her own name. He isn't teasing her anymore, he's genuinely trying to reassure her of her identiy and her inevitable legacy and if all else fails then that's what I'm here for.

It works for her because he's demonstrating empathy towards the one thing that's more important to her than anything else. That's how she knows he cares. That's how she knows he listens.

tldr; Even though Maui isn't great at the whole understanding and empathizing with humans thing, the reason he's still able to resonate with Moana is because he's able to empathize with her in a way that others may not have been able to.

[aperrywilliams]

Satellite Call. Part I: What You Kept Hiden from Me (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Words count for this part: 3.2k

Series summary: Your world crushes when Spencer is arrested. Between finding a way to get him out and keeping you afloat, there is something else you need to focus on, too. And even when you thought things couldn’t go worse, a tragedy makes you question if you can make it through.

Part I summary: One of Spencer's trips to Mexico ends badly, and you don't know how to react and what to do.

Series warnings: ANGST (with CAPS). 18+ (MDNI). Some heavy topics will be discussed and shown here. Prison arc, but mostly from Reader's perspective and Emily’s. More detailed under the cut.

Spencer lies to his wife. Drug consumption (against their will). Pregnancy symptoms. Spencer is in jail for more than three months. Hospital visits, doctor’s info dumping (not accurate). Alcohol consumption. Arguing. Strong language. A lot of crying. Emotional breakdowns. A car crash happens (as in the CM storyline). Character dies. More hospital things. Miscarriage. More angst. Depressing symptoms. Mourning. Self-doubt. Suicidal ideation, and almost consummated. Emily is everyone’s emotional support.

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Spencer thought you would be outside the correctional, just as Penelope is now, waiting for him. But you are not. He either didn't ask JJ why you weren't with her picking him up from inside in the first place. Spencer just assumed you didn't want to be in there, and he understood your reasons. You stopped visiting him because it was hard to see him locked up like that and not do anything about it. Or at least it was what you said to him in a letter Emily handed him during a visit time when you didn't show up. It was a month ago.

After a tight hug with Penelope, Spencer couldn't help but ask.

"Where is she?"

JJ, Luke, and Garcia exchange a troubled look, something Spencer sure does notice. When he sees Garcia's glassy eyes, his gaze settles on JJ and Luke for answers.

"Spence, she—" JJ doesn't know how to express a fact she knows will break her friend.

"Man, she - we should go to the hospital right now." Luke chooses to point out what to do instead of why.

"What?! Why? What happened?!" A frantic Spencer starts to question. What the hell had happened to you? Why are you in a hospital? There are too many questions in his brain right now.

With a hand on his shoulder, Luke gently propels him to start walking to the car.

"We are going to tell you everything, I swear. But let's go to the car, okay?" This time, it's JJ's turn to speak, trying to make Spencer move.

Spencer hasn't felt so confused and afraid even in the four months of being locked up in jail.

---------------

Five months ago

Exhausted. It's the definition of how you feel after the draining case you just ended in Tampa. The jet is quiet enough to assume everyone is sleeping. But although the evident tiredness consumes your body and brain, you can't bring yourself to sleep. Instead, you look at your front, where your husband is reading a book. His eyes look heavy, but you know he can't sleep either, not before decompressing first. And for that, a good book tends to work most of the time.

It's amazing how you can love someone so much. After two years of marriage and a couple of years as coworkers and friends before that, it isn't easy to think of Spencer as anything less than your soulmate and the love of your life.

You are lost in your thoughts, and you don't notice Spencer's eyes on you, a lazy smile on his face.

"Where did that pretty little head go?"

You don't know if the blush on your cheeks is from being caught or from Spencer's loving tone. Maybe both.

"Nowhere in particular. Just wondering."

"Yeah?"

"Mm-mm."

"Care to share?" Spencer asks with curious eyes.

"Well," you start, smiling at him. "Since you brought it up and knowing we have two days off, what about a getaway out of the city, huh?"

It's not a sudden idea. You and Spencer have been thinking about doing something like that for a few weeks. After a chaotic couple of months at the BAU, you both need time for yourself.

Spencer's eyes softened—a little pout on his lips.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, but I promised my mom's doctor I would be in Houston tomorrow."

You don't remember Spencer telling you that. Could it be that you had forgotten?

"Oh. I didn't know. Something happened to Diana?"

Spencer shakes his head.

"No. Just the usual. The doctors are adjusting the treatment, and we're doing a follow-up, that's all."

Another source of stress for Spencer in the past months has been Diana's health. After an important decline, he got her mom into an experimental treatment in Houston. Spencer fought hard to get her admitted, and even if you weren't sure about it, you supported him in everything related to it. That's why you won't even protest losing another chance to spend time together.

"I'm sorry," Spencer apologizes when he sees you haven't said anything. Reaching for your hand, you hold it and squeeze it reassuringly.

"It's okay, Spence. You must be there. And maybe it's a good chance for me to have a long beauty sleep," you shrug. In all honesty, your body has been yelling for uninterrupted sleeping hours in the past weeks.

"I promise we'll make up for the lost time when I come back, okay?" Spencer offers, kissing your hand. You nod and give him a soothing smile.

Some weeks later, the loud ringing of your phone wakes you from your sleep. Not fully conscious of your surroundings, you pat to the right side of the bed, expecting to feel Spencer next to you, but it's empty. Then you remember you are alone because Spencer had to go to Houston again this week.

"Hello?"

"Did I wake you up?" A confused Emily asks at the other end of the call. You check your bedside clock, and it reads 11 AM. You have been sleeping for twelve hours now.

"Yeah," you rub your tired eyes. I think I caught something. My stomach feels funny, and I was so exhausted last night. What is it? Do we have a case?"

"No, but- Have you heard from Spencer?" Emily asks cautiously.

"He called last night and told me he would come back today." There is a tense silence between you both. "Emily, what's wrong?" you ask.

"You should come to the BAU." It's all she says, and you know something bad happened.

Everything has been a blur since Emily's call and your arrival at the BAU.

As you bolt into your boss's office, you see her, David, and Penelope there, a troubled expression on their faces.

Emily is who delivers the news. Spencer has been arrested in Mexico after a car chase and caught with drugs in the trunk.

It's like she is telling you a movie plot. There is no chance she is talking about Spencer, your husband. No, it can't be. Your husband left two days ago for Houston to check on his mom, as he has been doing in the past month.

But as much as you want to deny what you are hearing, Spencer's mugshot, appearing on Garcia's screen, is screaming the truth.

You think you might throw up. And you do. Quickly excusing yourself, you run to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach.

It's the same Emily Prentiss who enters the bathroom after you and holds your hair as you keep kneeling before the toilet.

"We are going to bring him back. I swear. Everything is going to be okay," Emily assures you, rubbing your back.

You want to believe her, but not knowing why this is happening makes it hard to think clearly.

You insist on going to Matamoros with Luke and Rossi, and no one dares to protest. You're visibly upset and confused, but staying in Quantico is not an option.

On the plane, Emily sits in front of you. You know why.

"I swear I didn't know anything, Em. I'm as confused as everyone," you confess. "And it's killing me. I know Spencer never would do what they say he did, but either I can explain why he was there."

"I know, but you must have caught something. Has Spencer seemed nervous or extremely quiet lately? Maybe a phone call or something that made him change his mood."

You think for a moment. Spencer has indeed been more pensive in recent weeks, particularly since Diana joined the new treatment. It's also true he's told you less and less about how things are going with her. But you assume it's because he's been worried about everything going well and not because something bad was happening.

A memory suddenly appears in your mind. One night after arriving from the BAU, you were making something to eat, and Spencer left his phone on the counter while he took a shower. You looked at the device, thinking it might be from work, but the name 'Dr. Medina' appeared on the screen. You didn't recognize the name because, according to what Spencer had told you, her mom's new doctor was Dr. Hammond.

"After he checked his phone, he quickly called back, but he went to the bedroom to make the call. I didn't pay enough attention. I should have done—" You trail off, and Emily rubs your arm to comfort you.

"Hey, don't. We don't know if that has to do with what's going on, so let's not get ahead of ourselves."

It's easy to say but almost impossible to achieve, especially when, upon arriving at the Matamoros police station, in one of the cells, you see your husband lying on a bench with his eyes lost in the ceiling.

"Spencer?" you mumble, but loud enough to catch Spencer's attention. He sits and looks at you with eyebrows furrowed as if trying to remember who you are. Some feet behind you, Emily, Luke, and Rossi stand, witnessing your interaction.

Without saying anything, Spencer gets up and walks over to where you are, only separated by his cell bars. With that closeness, you can see the several cuts all over your husband's face; his clothes are torn. But what shocks you are Spencer's red and lost eyes. He is visibly high.

"Do you know who I am?" you ask almost in a whisper, scared of his answer. Spencer nods slowly, his eyes shifting from lost to sad. He recognizes you.

"I'm sorry." It's not much, but you can't hold it against him right now, not when answers are required in the first place.

"Baby, it's okay. We're going to get you out of here, okay? But you need to talk to us. Can you do that?"

It's not until a couple of hours later Spencer fully returns to himself, the effects of the drugs leaving his body.

For the sake of the case, you stay out of it while Spencer tells the team what happened. You don’t want Spencer to feel uncomfortable admitting he has lied to you for weeks.

After Emily conducts a cognitive interview to get details that could help, Spencer returns to his cell. When Emily, Luke, and Rossi leave the police station to search for evidence, only you are left there with him.

Spencer looks embarrassed, and you can feel the gears in his head turning as he tries to find a way to talk to you. When he comes empty of words, he addresses you instead.

"Can you please say something?" His voice is tentative and pained.

"I don't know what you want me to say," you reply honestly.

Spencer sighs deeply. "Tell me whatever you're thinking now. Yell at me, tell me I'm a fucking liar, that I dragged you into this mess, tell me I'm a terrible husband."

You consider his words for a moment. Is it true everything Spencer says is what you're thinking? It probably is, but you don't feel like you have the energy to bring it out the way he wants. However, there is one underlying question that has been on your mind since all this started.

"Why? Why you kept it from me? You don't trust me enough to tell me those things?"

"No, don't say that. I do trust you," Spencer rushes to say, but he knows it's a weak defense considering the circumstances.

"Then I don't get it. Why, Spencer?" Your tone isn't accusatory but sad. You could have helped him if you had known. But he, for some reason, decided against it.

"I was trying to protect you," he says and shakes his head. "I know it sounds stupid now we are here, but it's true. I didn't want you to worry about my mom's situation. I'm so sorry."

Spencer is probably telling the truth, but it doesn't make you feel better. Not seeing him behind bars like this.

The helplessness of not having anticipated this situation and now being unable to do anything to solve it eats you up inside. Despite that, you know Spencer is having it worse. So you, as his partner and who loves him the way you never loved anyone, decide to put your feelings aside to be his support at this difficult moment.

"It's okay," you assure him, placing your hands between the bars to hold his. Spencer is quick to respond and grabs onto your hands as if you were a lifeline to him. "We'll figure it out."

Spencer's eyes fill with tears as he repeatedly murmurs, 'Thank you' and 'I love you.'

You have always considered yourself a strong and tenacious woman. Since you were a kid, you have been independent and able to overcome everything that came your way. But adult life has continued to test you, and this has been no exception. When you find out Nadie Ramos has been murdered and all the evidence points to Spencer, you're about to break down. Still, you can't because if you do, who's going to support your husband? You have to be strong. Some reprieve emerges when you learn Ramos is an American citizen and Spencer can be prosecuted on American soil.

Baby steps.

The jet is mostly silent, save for Emily's occasional page-turning or Luke's typing on his phone. Rossi seems to be sleeping. You and Spencer are in one of the back seats. Spencer's head is in your lap while you absentmindedly play with his hair, looking at the night sky out the window.

"You think Scratch is behind this?" Spencer asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. You consider your answer for a couple of seconds.

"I do. I mean, it's such a damn elaborate plan. I can't think of anyone but Scratch."

Spencer assumes a sitting position and examines your face. He knows you are upset. Cupping your cheeks, he looks directly at your eyes.

"I have no words to say how sorry I am. And I promise to make it up to you for the rest of my life when this is over."

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, you are met with Spencer's expecting gaze.

"I know you will." And you really think that. "I love you, Spencer. I'm sure we are going to get through this." Your voice trembles with emotion, but your words seal a promise you mean to keep.

"And I love you. So so much. God, I'm so lucky to have you." Spencer's arms envelope you in a tight embrace. You melt into him, breathing his scent. It's the way you usually use to ground yourself. It's hard right now because, once the jet lands in Virginia, Spencer will get snatched from you, for God knows how much time it will take.

When the BAU elevator doors open, you find JJ, Penelope, and Tara waiting for you all. Spencer has his cuffed hands covered with your FBI jacket so as not to attract too much attention. Garcia is the first to rush forward and hug him.

You only have fifteen minutes. Then, the police officers will take him to the station to book him and leave him in a cell.

JJ and Tara hug him, too. You assume they are giving him reassuring words, something you know he needs right now. From your peripheral, you see Emily exchange glances with Stephen and retreating to Emily's office. You can't say what's going on, but curiosity gets the best of you, and you follow them. You know Tara, Penelope, and JJ will keep Spencer occupied for a couple more minutes.

"What? Is the bureau abandoning him?" You hear Emily ask, visibly upset.

"They said Reid traveled with his personal passport and didn't inform the office. That's enough for them to step aside," Stephen explains.

"So we don't have legal support," Emily confirms, and Stephen nods.

You can't help but interrupt the conversation.

"What? Spencer will not have a defense?" Both Emily and Stephen startle and turn to see you. While Stephen gives you an apologetic look, Emily is quick to speak.

"Not provided by the FBI, but it doesn't mean Spencer will be alone in this. We'll find a lawyer for him."

"They do want to bury this, don't they? It's bad publicity, and Spencer will fall for it," you start to complain, your breathing picking up speed.

"Hey! We won't let that happen, do you hear me?" your boss steadies you and makes you look at her with both hands on your shoulders. "But for now, Spencer can't know. Not until we get this figured out."

As in cue, you look through Emily's window and see Spencer still chatting with JJ and Penelope.

"This is a nightmare," you mumble. Emily squeezes your shoulder.

"We're going to solve it, I promise."

You see Spencer looking around with a frown. Penelope and JJ are still talking to him, but Spencer seems to be looking for something, better said, someone: you. Cautiously, you descend the stairs to join him. You know you don’t have much time, and you know you can’t tell him about the lack of a lawyer.

“Hey,” Spencer calls when he finally sees you.

“Sorry, I went to talk to Emily about something real quick while giving you time with the team.” You don’t want to delve into specifics and hope Spencer doesn't ask about it.

“Thank you. Can we talk more privately?”

“Sure.” You both move to a corner with fewer people around. Spencer’s eyes trail every part of your face as he wants to engrave you in his memory. At the lack of words, you frown. “Spencer?”

“I know this isn’t going to be easy. I’m terrified, and not just for me. I’m scared about how this will affect you and us. I just want to say that I love you with all my heart, but I will understand if this becomes too much. You don't owe me anything. Don’t feel obligated-”

“Stop! Stop right there. Don’t even try to finish that sentence,” you rush to cut him off.

“But-”

“No. You are my husband. You are the love of my life. You are the person I chose to share my life with. In thick and thin, remember?” You cup his face so he can look directly at your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Physically, we’ll be apart, but I won’t rest until I get you out, and we'll be together again, okay?”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears, and so do yours. He leans down to catch your lips with his. He can’t hold you - he’s cuffed - but for now, you can do that work. Lacing your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss, and you can feel your tears mixing.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” Spencer mumbles on your lips.

“I know you will,” you mumble back before kissing him again.

Emily clearing her throat takes you both out of your bubble.

“I’m sorry, guys, but it’s time. Police are here,” she apologetically announces. You look at Spencer, and he nods. It's time. With a last lingering kiss and an ‘I love you,’ he turns and follows Emily down the hall. Spencer doesn't turn around because he knows if he does and looks at you, he won’t be able to leave you there.

You watch him walk away and wonder if this nightmare will end soon. You don't know if you'll have the strength to hold on to him and yourself and if the love you share will be enough to keep the hope of a better tomorrow alive.

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Next part

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[mymegrokosmos]

Joshua - Wasted

I had a dream, it was so realistic. Woke up in tears with a bottle of whisky. Overslept once again, if there was sunlight I missed it.

Soulmate AU / angst & fluff, happy ending

He sits on the beach, watching as you dip your toes in the water and laugh at the cold. The sun sets behind you and paints the sky beautifully but all he can see is your smile. The way the golden lighting washes over your skin, The way your eyes light up when you turn to him, and gesture for him to join you.

He shakes his head and smiles back, opening his arms as you come running over instead. You curl up against his side and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. There’s nowhere he’d rather be right now. Your smile is even prettier up close.

His heart aches as he opens his eyes, turning to find the other half of the bed empty. He was dreaming again. Your features quickly fade from his memory until all he can remember is the way you felt in his arms, the way his heart squeezes at the thought of going another day without you.

That’s the thing about soulmates - the sirens call of you drawing him closer and closer to madness every day that goes by and he doesn’t feel that spark blooming with anyone he encounters. Doesn’t find you. It’s been over six months now, since the dreams first started coming to him. Since he started having them every day at least.

They used to come every few months, then weekly sometimes if he was paying attention. They were foggier at first. More vague. It was easier to wake from the groggy depths of his sleep and brush off the cobwebs of you clinging to him. Now he remembers too many details. The smell of your perfume, the colour of your eyes even though he can’t picture anything else about them, the precise shape of the little heart pendant you wear hanging from your collarbone.

He doesn’t know why he knows these things. Why he’s allowed to keep these very specific details memorized while the shape of your face, your name, the sound of your voice all fading the minute his eyes open and his dream disappears like smoke  between his fingertips. Everything else about you slips away from him like sand as he rises into consciousness.

It’s driving him mad. It’s been weeks since he last showed up to work. Since he dragged himself out of bed for more than a microwave meal and a quick shower. And even those took most of his effort to trudge through. He spends his days drinking and hoping to drown you out of his brain. It never works. He knows it won’t but he has to keep trying anyway.

It might be a week since he last remembers being sober. Maybe two. Jeonghan’s called every day. He keeps letting the calls ring out. Seungcheol showed up at his door the other day, knocking until his voice went hoarse. Josh didn’t unlock the door. He knows if he doesn’t answer someone soon they’ll send Vernon next. It might work. He doesn’t intend to find out but then he didn’t intend to neglect his friends and his life for so long either. There just doesn’t seem to be much else left to try anymore. He’s long since given up hope of actually finding you.

You’re close, and he knows this, the dreams are always more vivid when you’re close to him, but the frustration of going out every day into a city of millions of people and somehow still missing you is doing his head in. It’s been months now since he gave up. Months of waking in a cold sweat every day, your name on the tip of his tongue and every single clue he has as a way of finding you erased from his memory before he can write them down or commit them to the long term memory bank. What’s left of it.

It’s Tuesday, he thinks, when they finally send Minghao and Jun to sweet talk the superintendent into letting them into his apartment. They make him soup from scratch, refill his pantry and groceries. Hao dumps all the half-empty bottles down the drain and makes him watch, staring at him straight faced.

He can read the disappointment in his friend’s closed off expression. The disapproval. The resignation and hurt are there too, a little deeper down. They tuck him into a blanket cocoon on his couch and then Jeonghan is storming his way through the door, followed by an already lecturing Chan and a defeated looking Scoups.

It takes them two days to divest his apartment of all the empty bottles and garbage. Another two to clear up the piles of old laundry and get it something resembling clean. It’s Sunday when Seungkwan shoves him into the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes, leaning against the door until he promises to shower. He sits there under the stream of hot water so long they send Vernon in to drag him out.

By Monday they’ve filled his fridge with home cooked meals. Mingyu has stress baked at least three batches of his favourite chocolate chip cookies. Wonwoo had to drag him to the store for more ingredients before he cried. Joshua still isn’t sure he feels anything.

He should feel bad. Guilty. Something. He loves his friends, cares about their wellbeing, and knows they mean well. They know this. And yet… all he knows lately is the apathy that keeps creeping into his very bones.

It takes them a few days to convince themselves he’s safe to leave alone for a few hours. That something is getting better. That at least he won’t be drinking again. He thinks it might be Wednesday when Hoshi and Dokyeom forcibly tug him out of the apartment. He only goes because Jihoon threatens to throw him over his shoulder anyway if he doesn’t.

They lose the other two pretty quickly to some cute dogs in the park that need to be cooed over and played with. He sits on the swings, dragging his feet through the sand while Woozi leans against the metal frame beside him, arms crossed over his chest. His friend doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to.

He just nods towards Joshua’s forearm, where a new tattoo has bloomed. His only one. The ink is beautiful, a colour rendering of a peony. Just one flower that takes up the entirety of the inside of his arm from wrist to elbow. He didn’t think they were supposed to be this large.

Seungcheol tells him it depends on the person. He’s stared at it enough to know every detail. Every furling leaf, every little star and moon that decorate the periphery and fill space around the flower. Every shade of pink that flush along the petals.

“So, she’s a gardener then?” Jihoon asks.

He shrugs. “Or a florist.”

“Hmm.”

“Cake decorator actually, to be specific.”

His head snaps up at the voice calling to him from across the park. Soft and clear. He knows it. He can’t say he remembers the way you sound but something warms in his chest and he’s on his feet in a flash. Jihoon eyes him warily.

“What’s going on?”

“She’s here. Woozi she’s right here.”

His friend starts but to his credit, turns to look around. “What does she look like?”

He sighs, hand running through his hair. “That’s the problem. I can never remember after I wake up.”

“Then how do you know?”

“I heard her, she was listening to us.” He taps his ear.

Jihoon nods, believing him despite how silly and borderline insane it sounds. They turn to each other and Jihoon’s grin lights up his face. Joshua finds himself smiling back for the first time in what feels like ages.

“I have an idea.”

All it takes is a few words. They hurt to utter, to force out of his throat. But if it brings you to him then it’s worth it. And it is. The look on your face, the way his heart tumbles in his chest as you approach them with your hands balled into fists at your side. He can’t help smiling despite every signal that says you’re upset with him.

“I don’t even like peonies that much. They’re not even that cool. Pretty though, at least.”

You don’t hesitate to get right up in his face and he grins, hand automatically slipping around your waist. You don’t seem to mind so he holds back the instinct to pull it back and apologize.

“Excuse me?”

“There you are darling.”

You melt a little at the adoration in his eyes. He smiles when you shake your head at him, all the anger melting out of your expression.

“You really do look like it.”

He blinks. “Like what?”

“My deer.”

He forgets completely that Jihoon is there, a few meters away now to give you both some semblance of privacy as he watches from a bench by the trees. His eyes fix onto where your hand lifts up one sleeve, on your matching arm, and his first thought is that your tattoos will press together every time you hold hands. As if he already knows you’ll grant him that pleasure. Then he notices the ink.

Your forearm is filled with earth tones, brown and green and beige. White and black. A beautiful deer in a grassy field surrounded by lovely buttercup yellow flowers. Instead of stars and moons decorating the empty spaces your fillers are little suns and petals, flower crowns and delicate beads. Pearls and shells for him become little forest animals and diamonds.

When he glances up again you’re smiling. He can’t help but smile back. You hold out a hand and he takes it, lacing his fingers through yours until you both let out a sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe you were here this whole time.”

“I’m glad I was.”

And just like that, he thinks he might never need to drink again.